#i remember it came during a really crappy part of my life too

[midtown-parker]

spider-man: homecoming is my ultimate comfort movie

[gatitties]

Hello. This is my first time making a request, so pardon me for any mistakes I might make, english is also not my first language, lol. May I request a teen! AFAB male reader (trans FtM) x Kid pirates (platonic)?

The reader is the user of the Itai-Itai No Mi, a fruit with the power to control pain sensitivity. The reader is chronically ill, born with Classic Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, so you could see how the fruit comes in extremely handy. He can control his own pain levels and transfer pain between himself and others, outside of battle, he often uses his powers to overextend himself, and during a fight, he can debilitate enemies by accentuating the pain from his own wounds and then transferring it to a target. Since he's physically weak, he keeps a distance, using a bow and arrow. He's really passionate about chemistry, so he usually laces the arrows with nervous agents, urticants, or other chemical weapons.

However, the powers from his fruit are nothing but a mere illusion. He can go on with his daily life, using his powers as analgesics and pretending he's not sick in the first place, but even though he's not feeling pain, he's still getting hurt.

If that wasn't enough, the reader is alexythimic, so he's constantly thrill-seeking in an attempt to alleviate the boredom that comes with his dulled-out emotions. This gets to the point where the reader just completely neglects his health because, well, he's not in pain. It also gets to the point where his body simply starts falling apart, being too unstable to keep him going. He hides this to the crew and pretends that nothing is happening, though the bruises and huge atrophic scars that appear from the slightest injuries are kind of a give-away.

Anxiety and anger are the only two emotions that the reader can easily identify, the rest being vague, confusing, or apparently non-existent. As he sits on the edge of his bed, feeling like a burden to the crew, those two emotions overtake him. The reader already has dysphoria and uneasiness regarding his body, a thing which he rarely talks about; despite dressing boyish he definitely doesn't pass as both his voice and body don't match his mind. And now, if that wasn't enough, his body fails him once more. "Why do I have to deal with the burden of something that doesn't even belong to me?" He asks himself.

As he gets sicker and sicker, his mind has him trapped in this endless cycle of boredom, fear, rage and indifference. At this point, everything, from his body to his head, feels like he's been sentenced to life in prison.

One day the reader simply collapsed, and the crew has to sit there, puzzled, as they figure out why the usually full-of-energy reader now has faceplanted the floor. I'll leave the rest to you (?) sorry if this is too long, lol. I've been feeling crappy about my physical and mental health, so reading something like this would be nice.

─Kid pirates x Teen!AFAB male reader (FtM) (platonic)

─Summary: Your world is slowly collapsing in the face of your illness, your powers don't seem to help and you are becoming more and more physically and mentally devastated.

─Warnings: a little angst, dissatisfaction with body, small panic attack

Naah, you did absolutely fine, I'm sorry this took so long and I hope you're really okay now love, I wish you all the love in the world and lots of hugs <3

You lost count of how many days you've been feeling this way, a sensation that tingles your body and persists until you fade it with your powers, the sensitization control worked well, however you had the reminder of the scars and the touch of your own skin, remembering that no matter how hard you try, you were still a helpless and insecure teenager with a chronic health problem.

The moments when all the discomfort was left behind was due to the lack of understanding when it came to deciphering feelings, the crew didn't help much with that issue, after all, they, for the most part, weren't the happiest people or those who spread nice or self-care messages, definitely the Kid Pirates weren't the most suitable to fully develop your lack of interpretation of emotions.

Even though you had never had any problems before, something inside your mind was eating away at your conscience little by little, devouring every little corner, you don't know when it started, but you felt trapped in a cycle, repetitive days seeing your face, your body, you didn't look like yourself, you weren't the person you imagined in your confused mind, you didn't like yourself, and even changing your physical aspects in a certain ways, there was always some minimal detail as a reminder, the tone of your voice, the shape of your body… it seemed like a constant fight against yourself, a tug-of-war in which your thoughts brought you down morally.

"Hey kiddo, don't just stand there, we have to go now, don't forget your things."

Heat gave you a little push on the shoulder, taking you out of your train of thought, as if the world had returned to its normal speed, you nodded, leaving to pick up your bow, arrows and those new poisons that you had been making in your little laboratory inside Kid's workshop.

Wire, who came right after you left, narrowed his eyes, watching as your hunched figure faded through the dining room door, sharing a look with his companion as if they read each other's thoughts. They were both the first to notice how you seemed more subdued and distant every day, as they found themselves spending more time with you, although at first they attributed it to you simply being tired, something told them it was something deeper than simple tiredness.

"Do you think something's wrong with the boy? He's been avoiding spending time on the deck lately."

Heat nodded at his friend's question, knowing that you seemed to be avoiding everyone lately, making a mental note to ask you about it, both of them split up to get their weapons as well, they were going to rob a small town in about ten minutes.

Your gaze was lost, focused on your bow, lips in a thin line, you clenched your fist around the weapon, startling when you felt a huge, cold hand against your head, Kid had a habit of giving you caresses on the head a little roughly before a battle, a strange feeling stirred inside you, something that you supposed was good since it was not the same feeling you had when you experienced anger.

"Be careful and all that, but above all, crush them."

Kid was certainly not the most encouraging person, but taking a few minutes with you before each battle made you feel good, a small, shaky smile decorated your face for a few seconds, unknowingly, your captain's words had added more weight to your shoulders, of course, not intentionally, but you would feel like a complete useless if you did not do your job well.

The moments before and during battle always become a blur of images, as if you have no control over your own body, leaving it on autopilot, just shooting from a distance, only physically intervening if some idiot dares to get too close to your position.

You didn't have to make much physical effort most of the time, you conserved a lot of energy by having a more defensive position, leaving the action and enjoyment to your bloodthirsty comrades, but your enemies were not in front at the moment, your own immune system was the one who decided to give you a rear stab, like a traitor. Your senses began to fail and immediately fear settled in the pit of your stomach, a strange and unexpected sensation, your body began to tremble even when you insensitized it with your skill, your hands, your legs began to not respond, the tingling at the tip of your fingers intensified and it seemed as if your skin was cracked and dry.

The failure in your system made you fall from the tree you were in, with your senses completely disoriented you began to feel pain like small needles sticking into every corner of your body, your chest rose and fell rapidly, your pharynx seemed to close like a snake taking your breath away in a deadly strangulation.

Killer, who was the closest to your position, was the one who heard the smack of your body against the ground, as well as your weak moans, giving you a sidelong glance, his body went cold in a second as he saw how you struggled to stay conscious, forgetting about his main task, although it was practically finished, he immediately went to you.

"Hey, hey, are you okay? Damn, have you been attacked? Please listen to me, try to be with me just a little longer and don't lose consciousness... kiddo? kiddo!"

He shook your body carefully, trying not to touch the parts of your skin exposed and full of scars, Killer despaired when you began to close your eyes, taking you in his arms quickly, returning to the safety of the Victoria Punk, completely confused by your sudden fainting, yes, he knew that sometimes you left your own skin at work, in battles, but you always seemed to be full of energy, ready for another assault, what happened this time? There were no enemies around.

It was the day after that event, you met up with the group of four, Heat, Wire, Kid and Killer looked at you expectantly, making you shrink in your own place, you didn't know how to start talking, you felt pressured, caged at that moment, there were so many things you wanted to say and yet so few words with which to explain yourself. You didn't speak that day, or the next, or the following week, which got on the crew's nerves, although they weren't the friendliest or funniest pirates, they were still like a family and despite not showing it to the outside, they all had a deep concern for your state, so broken and fragile being a simple teenager.

Wire had to stop his captain from exploding at you because of this whole strange atmosphere of uncertainty, and if it weren't for Killer, who decided to take matters into his own hands, Kid would surely have taken out his problems with an argument, luckily, his best friend and co-captain was much gentler, perhaps, one of the only people on board who could make you understand in a less complex way the feelings of duality you were going through.

Of course, you released some emotional weight after a long talk with Killer, it didn't make all your worries go away, the chronic illness will haunt you until the end of your days, it was something you had to bear and accept, and they would take care of keeping your mind away from bad thoughts.

They don't know how they'll do it either, solving such complicated, emotional and personal problems wasn't something they had much experience with, but they'll go through this process together, they promised that you'd never have to feel that way again, that you'd never go through that again, but it'll still take you some time, the most pessimistic thoughts are the ones that take root the most in the mind and destroy it, but at least, they already have somewhere to start.

[maxdibert]

I’m rereading the Harry Potter books, and the amount of hatred I feel toward Hermione is insane.

I was always a very shy student who struggled with learning because everything distracted me during class. When I asked the teacher a question or was asked something directly, it was incredibly important to me because it was the only way I could truly learn—through direct interaction. Unfortunately, I always had the "luck" of sharing classes with those types who love answering questions that weren’t directed at them, trying to stand out as “the smartest” or meddling in my business.

While the fandom adores Hermione for being “so intelligent” and knowing all the answers, she’s actually a nuisance. Supposedly being “the smartest” and having this constant need to prove herself, she hinders others from learning by butting in where she doesn’t belong.

I think it’s very biased when, for example, Lupin says she’s “the brightest witch of her age” or something along those lines. Of course she stands out—she never lets anyone else answer before she opens her mouth or gets called on.

Honestly, the only reason I like Hermione is because she’s the only well-built and developed female character in the entire bloody series, since the rest are absolute rubbish, and honestly, Rowling makes them terribly one-dimensional in general (which is ironic considering she likes to pose as a feminist). But as a person, Hermione would drive me up the wall.

As a teenager, I thought some people disliked her because of that misogynistic trope where proactive and intelligent women are always looked down upon or labelled as annoying. But as the years have gone by, I’ve come to the conclusion that no, it’s because Hermione was annoying.

I wouldn’t have been able to stand having her as a classmate because I found teacher’s pets and those constantly trying to get teachers’ approval pretty revolting. Nothing disgusted me more than a brown-noser, and if they were also the type to always speak up, act like a know-it-all, and throw a fit if they got anything less than an A+, my dislike would’ve been through the roof.

I mean, I was never the type to tell someone off if they hadn’t done anything to me personally, but I remember this girl who got really upset because she always got top marks and took her grades so seriously (as if they actually mattered in the real world), but she came second in Literature because she was absolutely awful at interpreting and analysing texts. She was great at memorising but had the imagination of a rock. And she threw an actual tantrum over it, like, girl, you can’t be good at everything, relax. Or this university classmate who got mad because another girl,not her, received the highest distinction in a course. And that girl was supposed to be her friend, like ??? Honestly, people like that should be sent straight to the stake.

I never took my studies too seriously because I saw them as a means to get a degree and a job. The things that have truly interested me, I’ve studied on my own, and what’s been most fulfilling and educational for me has been travelling, working crappy jobs, and meeting loads of people. In the end, your grades don’t mean much because they guarantee nothing in life.

That said, I’d absolutely hate having a student like Hermione in my class. Imagine being a teacher trying to check whether your students are doing their homework, understanding the lesson, or simply trying to encourage them to speak up and express themselves because that’s a crucial part of their cognitive development — but you’ve always got that one kid cutting them off, correcting them, answering when nobody asked, or interrupting your interaction with other students just to show off.

I’m sorry, but if I were Snape, I wouldn’t be able to stand her either, because she’s actively sabotaging your work with the other students. It’s all me me me me, and a classroom isn’t just about you; it’s about everyone learning. Honestly, I would’ve really struggled not to tell her to shut the hell up at some point.

I also don’t think she’s brilliant. She’s tenacious, disciplined, and clever. She’s good at studying, memorising, practising, and she’s diligent — and these are very good and valid qualities. But brilliance comes from natural talent developed through practice, and she’s not naturally talented — she just works very hard.

[coraniaid]

Buffy for the character asks?

General opinion/how much I care about them:  What can I say about Buffy Summers? When she was fifteen years old a representative of an ancient mystical order told her that she alone had the power to stop bad things from happening in the world, thereby confirming something she had hitherto only strongly suspected.  She had to keep a fundamental part of her life secret from the world for years but she never learned how to tell a convincing lie because she was too busy thinking up puns.  She had a 95th percentile SAT score despite mostly studying in between fighting vampires in a cemetery every night and cutting classes to sneak out of school and fight yet more vampires during the day.   All her favorite teachers died or never noticed she existed.  She is both a quintessential only child and somebody who would fight a god to save her annoying little sister.  She blackmailed the management of a fast food chain so that they would let her keep doing a minimum wage job she hated with co-workers whose last names she can’t remember.  She burned down her old high school gym and blamed it on mice and blew up her new high school library while she was at her graduation ceremony and she sunk her hometown into a giant hole in the desert and drove away in a school bus.  She died twice before she turned twenty-one.  She is one of my favorite fictional characters in any medium.

A ship I love: I didn’t really talk about why I love Fuffy in my Faith answer, so let me try now.

Of all of Buffy’s shadow selves, Faith is the one who spends the most time actually in her shadow.  She doesn’t get later character development that takes her in a different direction and makes her her own person; she didn’t start out as something else entirely and get reworked later when the plot required it.  She doesn’t even get the illusion of a family and moments of happiness, like Drusilla has in Season 2.  When Faith’s not hanging out with Buffy she’s sitting alone in her motel room or lying in a coma or counting down the months in jail.  She exists to be a version of Buffy who is not Buffy, who is worse than Buffy, who doesn’t have friends or family or any external support.  That’s really all she is.  And she knows it.  And she hates it.  How could she not?  “You get the Watcher, you get the Mom, you get the little Scooby gang … what do I get?”

Because Faith is Buffy – the part of Buffy who never came back after she ran away from home and got kicked out of school; the part who can admit to craving a little more than low-fat yogurt after a night patrolling; the part that never got to make friends with Xander and Willow in Season 1 and never had a Watcher who cared about her –  so on a fundamental level Fuffy is about Buffy accepting those suppressed and hidden angry parts of herself.  But it’s also about Faith accepting the forgotten and ignored parts of herself that are present in Buffy: the idea that she can be a hero, that there are people in the world who care about her, that there are people who she can trust.  It’s about asking what if all of the Season 3 subtext – Faith’s whole arc this season paralleling Angel’s a year ago, and “what are friends for?” and “It’s kind of a Slayer thing”, and Joyce marching in the Slayer Pride Parade – was text, and what if the show existed in a world where the characters could act on it?

And because of how Season 3 turns out, it’s also about Buffy and Faith forgiving themselves, and each other, for doing almost unforgivable things to each other.  Because there were never meant to be two of them, and they’ve never been able to tell each other what they mean, and because “kill me, you become me”, but she tried and it didn’t help.  And it’s about crappy presents and knives to the throat and forehead kisses and shared dreams and hopelessly entangled destinies.  It’s ”She could be terrified.  Maybe [...] she’s sorry and she’s alone” and “You think you matter, you think you’re a part of something, and then you get dumped” and “All my life there was one person who tried to be my friend” and “I tried so hard to help you and you spat on me” and “Willow said you needed me.  Didn’t really give it much thought.”

As much as I wish Faith was in Season 7 more, part of me is glad that this is all we got, because I really don’t think the show could ever have done all this justice. And the little we get is enough to make me a bit crazy.

A non-romantic relationship that I love: I already talked about Buffy and Willow, so I will try to subvert expectations a little here and go with Buffy and Giles.  Not the fandom version of their relationship I like to complain about where Giles is an uncomplicated Good Dad, but the messy and complicated and heartbreaking version where he just won’t allow himself to be that person.  

I mean, I think it’s very clear from the show that Giles really does care about Buffy far beyond the extent he is supposed to as a Watcher (he tries to go and fight the Master in her place! Even though he knows it would kill him!  Even though this is Season 1 of the show and we’ve not yet seen Giles fight a single vampire!) but that everything about his training and his past tells him that he shouldn’t.  Buffy cares about Giles a lot (“You can’t leave me, I can’t do this alone” / “it’s a little like having Mom back”) and it’s clear that she would really like Giles to be more involved in her life (she wants her Mom to invite him around for Christmas, she goes to his house for Thanksgiving, she tries so hard not to show how hurt she is when she confuses his attempts to be dispassionate with genuine disinterest) but Giles is convinced that he cannot be that sort of parental figure for Buffy and it would only hurt her if he tried, and so – by purposely distancing himself from her and not letting her get close to him– he ends up hurting her in exactly the way he fears.

And the tragedy is that I think Giles really does believe the line he keeps feeding Buffy about how important it is not to be “distracted” by “personal concerns”.  When Quentin Travers told him he had “a father’s love” for Buffy, Travers meant it as a rebuke – and that’s exactly how Giles takes it.  He thinks getting closer to Buffy would be bad for her!  He thinks by leaving her in Season 6 he is helping her become self-reliant and a better Slayer!  Of course he is wrong, but that’s what he thinks, and it is consistent with how he’s always thought.  It’s not character assassination or some unjust subversion of his previously established personality: it is a natural and predictable and awful thing for him to do.  And he does it because he cares about her and doesn’t know what to do about that!  He thinks she’s a much better person than he is (“she’s a hero, you see.  She’s not like us”) and he doesn’t want to bring her down to his level!  “If you care so much about [these people], why didn’t you leave town?” Ethan asked him in The Dark Age, and Giles didn’t have an answer!

The NOTP: Going to cheat a bit here (honestly, mostly because it feels a bit mean to keep picking on Xander at this point), and say that the ship I don’t like isn’t with a specific person but rather with an idea that I see applied to all sorts of ships.  Namely the idea – not supported at all by the text – that Buffy’s various romantic interests are Good People who teach Buffy important life lessons and make her a better person or protect her from the dangerous world around her.  I mean, sorry, but this is not how it works! This is a boring fantasy you have projected onto the show in place of what it was actually telling you.  The feminism of BtVS is paper-thin, but give it some credit!

In canon, Buffy absolutely does not learn from her boyfriends.  She does not rely on them for emotional support.  They all cause her more problems than they help her.  She rescues them.  She makes them better.  Honestly her boyfriends all kind of suck.  Because that’s her type!  She likes losers with no friends who are kind of obsessed about Buffy Summers! (Losers just like Faith!)

Buffy textually hates it when Angel talks down to her: we see repeatedly how furious she gets when he treats her “like a kid” or makes important decisions about their relationship on her behalf.  She doesn't mind physically upstaging Riley (“I was holding back a little”) and secretly likes it when he gets hurt because, to quote Dawn, “she says you look even cuter when you’re all weak and kitteny”. The iconic twin shots of Spike and Buffy in The Gift and After Life are deliberately staged so that Spike is looking up the stairs at Buffy and she is looking down at him (“you’re beneath me”, as she told him in Fool For Love).  And as she says later in Conversations With Dead People:  “Their opinions don’t matter.  They don’t know.  They haven’t been through what I’ve been through [...] I feel like I’m better than them.  Superior.”

So, you know, the preferred power balance is pretty explicit here! I don’t think the show is being excessively subtle. And yet people keep insisting that, oh no, Buffy learns a lot from her boyfriends, or that she can’t possibly cope without their support, or writing fanfics where they swoop in to town to rescue Buffy from trouble. But that is not who Buffy is!  She is not some unsophisticated naif or damsel in distress.  She would hate that so much!  Ship Buffy with whoever you want, but let her be Buffy!

… but also, yeah, rewatching the second season really reminded me how awful I’d have found Buffy/Xander and how glad I am that the show stops hinting at that after Becoming.  Sorry, Xander.  You can take solace in being … well, a loser with friends?

My biggest headcanon about them:  Some time after Chosen Buffy definitely goes back to college and gets that English degree she deserves.  I don’t want to think about Buffy living in a gloomy castle in Scotland and still being forever isolated from the world or about her becoming a cop with superpowers or whatever other nonsense the comics insist happens to her after the show ends.  I want her to be able to have some time off and read some poetry and make Willow jealous academically.

An idea for a fanfiction I would like to write/read about them: One day I will finish my Season 7 rewrite in which Drusilla is the Big Bad and Faith gets broken out of prison earlier and Amy and Willow get to have a proper resolution and Kennedy is another Slayer from the start and Marcie and Ethan come back for cameos and people remember that Jesse and Kendra ever existed and Dawn actually gets something to do.  But first I will probably have to start writing it.

Something that makes me think of them: Nothing makes me think of Buffy.  I choose to be like this (for some reason).

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

STAR GIRL I CANT OMG😭 (it's Starlight )

Anyways

So Starlight is 100% dating Hughie while yes she also was forced to date Homelander for the public eye until (I think it's been a while) episode 6, herogasam, MM (mothers milk he's a character btw) filmed her do an Instagram livestream where she exposes Home boy and quits her jop as hero in Vought (i don't really know how to explain it)

So Soldier Boy and Homelander fight cause Soldier boy also wanted to kill Ryan (the kid from Becca {Butcher's wife} and Homelander, since he r@ped her while she was working at Vought, later in season 2 Ryan accidentally kills her, wanting to protect her from Stormfront (a nazi bitch who used to be with SoldierBoy during WW2 {Kinda fucked up} and was dating Homelander {also fucked up}), by using his lasers) so now Homelander is mad because he thought that he could have that American family typ of shit since he found out that Soldier Boy was his father. Soldier boy still gets thrown out the tower of Vought from Queen Mave (the red head hero from Vought who didn't appear in season 4, not firecracker) where it was also believed she die in but she just had a few injuries and went to live with her girlfriend (the gf is not a supe and only is like in 5 episode) on the Countryside where Homelander could never bother them ever again. ( SPOILER THIS WHOLE THING HERE IS A SPOILER: IN THE END OF SEASON 4 AFTER THE POST CREDIT SCEAN HOMELANDER IS SEEN WALKING IN A LAP OF VOUGHT WHERE A TUP IS AND THEN HE SAYS "SO THATS WHERE YOU BEEN {DAD??[NO CLUE IF HE SAID DAD OR NOT]}" AND THEN IT SHOWS SOLDIER BOY SLEEPING IN IT )

And yeah the supes have their own movies where they basically just lie about they life to make themselves look good cause spoiler alert they are not good people and Butcher and his crew know that so they try to take down every supe, mostly Homelander cause he r@ped Butcher wife and got lied to by Vought that she just died or went missing when then Grace? (I think was her name) showed up and showed him a security footage where both Becca and Homelander walk in a room and stay in to from 2+ hours before Becca walked out completely discomfort and her whole make-up messed up

)Sorry for bad grammar English isn't my first language(

<also how much you know of the backstorys???(sorry if its too much)>

I really need to watch more of this show (or rewatch what I’ve seen), it’s complex 😅

Ok I knew parts of that but I didn’t know who Ryan’s mom was, so thanks!

As far as backstories…

I know Soldier Boy had a crappy dad and that he got kidnapped and none of his teammates came for him, and that redhead chick that he loved hated him. I also know he was a horrible dude and he beat up…that guy who sees cartoon characters (I’m so sorry I forgot his name 😅)

And I remember Billy had an abusive father and…his brother died? After Billy left him alone with the dad? I think?

And honestly that’s about it, I mostly watched for Jensen so I don’t remember a lot of it besides him 😅. But I did end up really liking Billy Butcher

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2000 Tom got me a list of holidays throughout 2004, so I made a holiday file so I can have them available to add to calendars when I make them up.

I forgot to add a wheel mouse to my list of non-doll stuff. I may have that mural today! Tom told me yesterday we could look for one at the hardware store we’re going to this morning, but I have a feeling they won’t carry them. It’d be just my shit luck, too. Especially when he’ll have plenty of time to put it up since he’s gonna be taking time off during the time mom stays with us. We’re gonna head out of here around 9:00 and go to the hardware store first. Then we’ll go to Mary’s, help load the TV into the truck, and then head back here. I got the space in my office clear for the entertainment center. They’re also giving Tom a metal file cabinet which he’ll keep outside for his tools.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2000 Boy, this rat is full of surprises! Ratsy, I mean. Yesterday he was panting and seemed to be so weak like Scuttles did before he died. He looks like he lost some weight, too. However, when I got up at 4:30, he was upstairs! How’d this weak old thing manage to climb up to that tube?!

The phone company never did need to come out to the house to fix the phone. It’s working again. At least, for now it is.

Good news about Mary: it looks like the cancer is contained to her throat, so all they’re going to need to do (hopefully!) is just radiation therapy. Also, Dave’s mom will be in around October 16th, so that’s when Ma will stay here unless she changes her mind. She’ll be here a week or two, I guess.

It’s just about October 1st, my weight deadline. Since it’s been over 2 months since there have been any significant changes in my weight, and since I’m still yo-yo-ing between 112-116, I’m going to have to write off losing any more weight as the impossible dream it is, like it or not, and just hang onto what I’ve got.

Speaking of dreams, why do Doe and Art have to casually butt into my dreams so often? Ugh! I get so sick of them popping into my dreams whenever the fuck they feel like it. They intrude upon my dreams as if nothing ever happened. We all live together in most of the dreams. Last night I was washing our laundry like I would as a teenager. We had those crappy stackables like we had in Phoenix. They nearly overflowed, and the dryer only ran if I held the button down. When they came in from being out somewhere, I mentioned my frustrations about it to Art. Doe seemed to be in her own little world. I said I was sick of having to depend on something that didn’t work half the time and would do laundry by hand. Art said he could fix it and I was like, fine, but put up a clothesline so I can hang dry clothes when the dryer conks out.

Once the sun comes up I turn the AC off and turn the fan on continuous run, then I opened most of the windows to let the fresh air in. Once the sun really starts rising, I shut the east side windows. I have the retreat, bedroom and kitchen windows open now, and it is beautiful! It’s dead quiet too, the way a remote country area should be. It’s been quiet and it’s hard to believe that for a while there, I was hearing music nearly every day. I couldn’t get any peace in Phoenix with the windows shut, so it’s nice to be able to open them and not have those fucking freeloaders screaming, bouncing balls, and blaring music right outside the windows. I can’t fully feel the wonders of not having those sick fucks just a few feet away, though, cuz they are still a part of my life. It sort of dampens the mood, knowing that although I can’t see or hear them this doesn’t mean I’m free of them. I’ll never be free of them. I remember how shocked and disbelieving I was when the blacks moved. Meaning, I just didn’t feel like it was over. Well, obviously it was far from over.

I don’t usually watch talk shows these days, but I was doing things to keep myself awake to push my schedule around faster, and what I saw on Oprah was really scary. It’s sooo damn easy to get the most innocent people convicted of all kinds of things. All you have to do is swear they did whatever. This segment was on capital punishment and innocent people who spent years on death row before they finally were set free. I’m still for capital punishment, though. Better to fry 9 guilty people and 1 innocent person than to let just 1 guilty person go free. What’s scary is how many incompetent lawyers there are out there, how you can get convicted with no physical evidence tying you to the crime, and worst of all, just by someone’s word for it, and it’s usually not the word of a reliable witness, either. I’d be going down for these blacks even if my prints hadn’t been on the mail, and even if I’d had someone else make the call from a pay phone or something. All the bitch has to do is say I did it. What do I do when they fuck with someone that reacts differently than I did? What do I do when someone kills one of them and they point the finger at me? Even if I had an airtight alibi, which would be hard to do when you’re home all the time, the cops would still insist I had something to do with it and so would they. Well, I just hope that when they push the wrong person too far and when that person snaps and harms them, they know who it is and that they finger that person and that person only. I also hope I’ll be somewhere like Helen’s or the dentist’s so I’ll have an alibi when it happens. Assholes like them may live long, healthy lives, but at the same time, they’re living on the edge. Especially the blacks.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2000 Got my weight back down to 115 pounds. Guess I got a bit watery, but I should also cut my calories for a while. Yes, my metabolism’s faster, but I shouldn’t be doing 1500-2000 calories for too many days in a row.

The incompetent fucks at the phone company have really been fucking with our service. It’s hit or miss as to whether or not the phone will be dead when we go to make calls or leave messages. I told Tom he should just live with it, knowing how poorly people take to complaints, but he got fed up and called them. They say it’ll be fixed by tomorrow, but that’s what they’ve said a million times before. I know each time he calls and bitches that our service is going to get worse. Meanwhile, instead of leaving messages, since I know he may not be able to retrieve them, I’ve been typing them. Especially if I’ve got more to say than can fit on the memo board. The things I usually tell him are trivial stuff, like about the rats, etc.

Not only am I still finding tons of those annoying black bugs, but I also found a big, creepy spider earlier. Hope we can bomb soon.

Mom needed around 50 stitches the other day after she scraped her leg with the car door. That’s one sharp car door! She said Mary and Dave were out talking about whatever right before they were getting ready to head out. This is when Ma started to get into the car and cut herself. They rushed her to urgent care. Now all we have to do is hope it’ll heal quickly enough without getting infected. They gave her antibiotics.

When Tom went to see her yesterday, she gave him a bag with lots of material for me. Most of it’s dull, but what do you expect from an old lady? Bright shiny colors? I’m still happy to have it, though.

Another Ashton-Drake catalog came yesterday, and since there are too many dolls I want, I reevaluated the ‘stuff to buy’ list and narrowed it down to just 6 non-doll things I want to get, excluding household stuff like awnings, pressure tanks, etc. Besides the fire Indian, since we don’t know what she looks like yet, I want a Latina, an Indian, and a bride.

I knocked off the retreat table from the list. Unless I really get into sewing, which I can’t picture, we don’t need a table other than what’s already in there for that room. I almost knocked off the water lamp, but I did knock off the bedroom mural. The more I thought about it, the more I think it’ll look funny in there and throw the balance off there. Especially with the way that room’s laid out. An open room like the living room, though, will look great muraled. I knocked off the mattress pad, cuz they probably don’t make any built-in ones as soft as I like anyway. We’ll just stick to pads. Besides sewing stuff and clothes, I only want the living room mural, a CD changer, a tree for the dining corner, new towels, exercise gloves, and a water lamp.

I’d still like the doll kit and maybe some plastic dust covers which they sell. I can get 5 covers for the cheapies for $20. I don’t need their record book. I keep records electronically. After having time to think about the dolls I see in a catalog, some wear off me, some grow on me, and some keep their first impressions. I still want Marisa first (Hispanic), then Star Dancer (Indian), then a bride (white) called With This Ring, as in with this ring I thee wed…

Knocking some of the things off the list will save money. Also, by the time I get these 3 dolls, there’ll be 10 more I want, so wanting 6 non-doll things is better than 10.

Here’s an idea: If I get $35 for my birthday unless it’s needed for bills, groceries, or some kind of necessity, I’ll combine it with whatever pennies are left over from Tom’s electric razor loot, and get the living room mural! That’ll knock it down to just 5 non-doll things, and then I can maybe get 1 of the 3 dolls I want for Christmas! It always goes without saying, though, that the necessities come first.

Later…

Tom said that he warned the phone company that we weren’t about to pay for anything we couldn’t use. Therefore, we’ll just go cellular if we have to. Anyway, they’re supposed to come out to work outside the house today. Tom said I can just ignore them if they knock, cuz they don’t need to come in. No prob. At least I shouldn’t have to worry about them waking me up. I was up over 18 hours yesterday and slept till nearly midnight, so I shouldn’t be needing to go to bed till late afternoon. If we do drop the main phone, I’ll give Paula the cell number.

Star Dancer’s a nice doll, but I think I’ll put her on hold and go after Marisa and the bride first.

Dave’s mom is coming to visit from New York in October, so Tom’s mom may actually stay with us for a week or two, believe it or not.

Forgot to mention that Ratsy was out yesterday morning. I couldn’t believe it! He didn’t run around like he used to, though. It was still quite an unexpected and pleasant surprise for the old, arthritic guy!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2000 We are getting the big screen TV, after all! I didn’t get up till 7:30, and I guess Tom had just gone to bed, cuz he left me a note saying he spoke to Mary. Cool! I think I’ll take the entertainment center in my office, cuz it’s just not suitable for the mice. Especially when I want to have more cages set up.

I both dread and look forward to tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it because I want to find out what’s going on with Mary, but I dread it, knowing it’s not going to be good news. I’m not only back to 115 pounds, but to 116! What the fuck did I do to gain more than 5 pounds back, and so fast? I was stuck, but now that I’m not, and now that I took a water pill, perhaps I’ll drop back down, but why the fuck can’t I just fucking lose 15 more pounds and keep it off?! I’m sick of this yo-yo rut I’ve been in!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2000 Maybe not that predictable. I actually have a light flow and would count this as being a period.

I also had a vibe saying I’ll need a full hysterectomy when I’m between 36-37. This fits. I mean, it’s something God would do, but why in my mid-30s and not when I was 20? Obviously, he wanted me to feel teased by his not cumming, even though I knew deep down since I was a little girl that I’d never have a kid. How do I feel about having a hysterectomy? Well, again, I don’t like my decisions being made for me, and I don’t like having more and more options and doors slammed shut on me, but decision-making is also hard for me because I’m not used to it. So, it’s one less decision I have to make (having invitro) cuz I’m just so undecided, and I have been for the last few years. Meaning, I’m not dead set against a kid, and I’m not dead set for one, either. I feel that if I never try for invitro, I’ll wish I did, and if I do, I’ll wish I didn’t. So, one less tough choice to make. Also, a hysterectomy would end Tom’s fears, but that doesn’t mean he’d start cumming. He’s not going to do anything that’d admit I was right about him being scared. Periods are a bitch, so that’s a plus there; not having to deal with them. So, knowing I’m not fated to have a kid, knowing I don’t want one bad enough like I used to – I’ll take a hysterectomy if that’s what I’m in for. As long as I don’t have any serious suffering to do along the way – sure, why not? I don’t mind cutting out on periods a decade or so early.

I cut out on Ratsy’s wheel. He no longer uses it to wheel with. He’s just too weak. He only uses it to sit on, and he got his foot caught between the rungs again for the fifth time. So I chained it up high in the cage, out of his reach, for Houdini to sit in, but he seldom wheels. He prefers getting his exercise by running around loose.

I forgot to mention that the renters were hammering at midnight last night. Yeah, that’s an Arizonan for you. I was lying in bed reading when I heard it, but just for 5 seconds. I can’t imagine what the fuck they’d be hammering at that hour, and Dan’s place was too dark to be the one doing it. I figured it was the renters, cuz when I looked out back at midnight the front light was on. An hour later it was off.

I printed out all the calendars for Mary, Dave, mom, and the ones for us, grids and all. This is because the phone’s so fucked up he can’t download the holiday list I wanted. If he manages to, though, I’ll just write them in on the calendar we’ll keep in the kitchen by hand.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 25, 2000 Wow, it’s only just after midnight and it’s already down to 64 degrees out there. For the first time this year, I can really feel winter starting to set in. Thank God! It’s still hot in the daytime, and I still don’t miss the bitter cold of New England, but after having 8-9 months of nothing but intense heat, it’s nice for a change. I don’t mind a couple of months of a little shiver after sweating my ass off for so many damn months!

It’s been days now since I’ve seen Ratsy climb up to the tube. How sad it is seeing him get so old and feeble. Still making funny noises, too.

Later…

We decided to get rid of the Internet. Why pay for something we can’t use since all they do is crash us or not let us online? Besides, the extra money wouldn’t hurt. We still don’t know how much more these freeloaders are going to cost us. It’s one thing for me to go down on account of those who harassed me for years, but another to do it while we’re broke!

I didn’t run heat last night, but if it had gotten a few degrees cooler I would have. Remember, temperatures feel cooler than they do in the east out here. 80 degrees is miserably hot in New England, but here, 80 degrees is quite comfy with how dry it is. So, when it got down to 74 degrees in here early in the morning, it felt like it was in the 50s.

Although I slept from around 8:00–5:30, I was still tired when I got up. I guess it’s because I’ve been waking up constantly throughout my sleep. Hopefully, if the freeloaders will ever let me go, I’ll sleep better. But until this shit is over and until I find out how much more I gotta pay for something I should never have had to pay for in the beginning, I’m pretty stressed out. Anyway, I ended up lying down this evening. Tom said I was out cold for nearly two hours, but I thought I had barely dozed off and that it had only been for about 45 minutes. Nerves have a way of really beating one down!

As I figured would be the case by today, that little gush I had last night is gone. I’ve tapered down to just a few spots here and there. At least that much is predictable. So now I’ll have to deal with the expense and hassle of wearing a liner till I get another half-assed flow in a week or two.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 2000 And now it’s been exactly one year since we left Freeloaderville! God, how did my life come to be such a mess despite having such a quieter area and nicer house?! Well, anything’s better than living with Doe and Art or Brattleboro or Valleyhead or Oswego Street, the NHA, PHX, etc.

I decided to highlight all my entry dates in yellow. It shows up the best, even on paper. On paper, all the other colors are much darker than they appear on screen, making the text hard to read.

All our calendars are made up, except for the date grids. This is because I’m waiting for Tom to get me that holiday list. He said he couldn’t get online most of the day cuz our wonderfully competent phone company just had to go play with the lines again, and the phone was out all day. Anyway, for our 4 calendars, which will go in each of our offices, plus the kitchen area, plus the guest room, I’ve used a wide variety of pics. Pet pics, scenery, wildlife, flowers, etc.

Believe it or not, I’ve added a little bit of floor work to my workout routine. I still think floor work alone can only get you so far unless you’re old, weak and feeble, or some 200-pound mama, but it helps, in addition to the Bowflex exercises. I’m only doing my lower body, though. It’s just something extra to do to give extra help to those more problem areas.

Houdini was so cute earlier. I made us a tortilla treat, and he jumped up in my lap as soon as I sat down on the floor, trying desperately to grab a piece before I could get the chance to tear him off a piece and hand it to him. Just like the last time I did a rollover, he’s adapted his schedule to mine. Guess that rat likes me a lot! Ratsy was having trouble breathing and was making these funny noises. Tom said he doubts he has much longer to go, but every time I think that he surprises me with living on and on. He’s a toughie!

Daytime weather’s still hot, but evenings and mornings have become pleasant, even chilly. I won’t need any AC for the rest of the night until the sun comes up. Another week or two, and we’ll be turning the AC off and using heat at night.

Later…

What the fuck is going on? Just what the fuck is this? I was sitting there when all of a sudden I felt wet down there. Well, it turns out I’ve got my period, yet I just had one, although it was half-assed, a couple of weeks ago. This is more than just spots too, although I don’t expect it’ll last long. I expect it’ll drop to spots and that I’ll spot for a week or two till I get another half-assed flow. Just like last time, it started instantly, in the middle of my day. The only thing that’s different this time around is that I have no cramps, whereas the last time I had tons of cramps for so little bleeding. Usually, periods start in your sleep. What is this? Wacky hormones? Menopause setting in early? Something else?

There is some good news. I hit down at 111 pounds! And coincidentally, I recently had a vibe of hitting down at 109 pounds. Finally! I thought I’d never quit bouncing between 112-115 and my not having any vibes or dreams about losing more weight for seemingly so long, was rather discouraging. Anyway, my metabolism’s really speeded up. I’ve been consuming 1500-2000 calories a day lately. I’m starting to feel more and more like my old self like when I was in my 20s. The one who could eat whatever she wanted without worrying about it, although she certainly eats less junk nowadays. The one whose body spit out and rejected calories, for the most part, rather than gladly taking them in to store them as fat. I’m almost a new woman, too! My coffee with sugar in it is almost gone. I’ll be a sugar-free woman in no time!

Despite my lack of desire for my limp-dicked husband, I kind of couldn’t help feeling somewhat bummed and humiliated by his apparent lack of interest in me as I paraded around him naked. He’s had plenty of opportunities too, day after day, but he just doesn’t want me. Does he not want me, or does he not want sex, though? Guess I’ll never know. I may still have a fat face, neck and ass, and I may still be a bit thick-waisted with hips still a little too wide, but I could be worse. I know I don’t look great; certainly not like I did when we first met (although he tells me I’m beautiful), but I’m not an ugly blimp, either.

It got all the way down to the low 60s yesterday before dawn, and I don’t expect we’ll need the AC for the rest of the night. It’s not even 9:00 and it’s already dropped to 77 degrees out there.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2000 She got me. Yeah, but this time it wasn’t the black bitch. It was Doe. Once again, how wonderful it is to know I never have to see my parents again or ever be abused by them again, but what a shame it is to know I have to live with the memories. Memories that pop into my head spontaneously. It doesn’t matter what mood I’m in, where I am, what I’m doing; they can come to mind any time, any day, any place. And believe me, the memories are almost as detrimental to my mental health as the actual events were. They really cause a lot of stress, anxiety, sadness, and sometimes, still a bit of anger, too. How one can hurt over something that happened nearly 25 years ago? Telling myself it’s done and over with, I can’t change the past, move on, don’t think about it, it can’t happen again isn’t always so easy. No one could easily forget that their own mother would’ve left them to die if circumstances had been just a little bit different.

I was forcefully remembering the time I starved myself for a few days at the beach. I had no liquids either. Hey, I was only around 10, so I didn’t know any better about the importance of water. On the third day of no food/liquids, I couldn’t lift my head off the pillow when I awoke. I probably wrote about this before, but anyway, she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for me. Her exact words to me, and I remember them as if she’d said them just yesterday, were, “You did it, you correct it.”

That’s some mother I had, huh? Yeah, I did a stupid thing, but what do you expect from a kid so young? Utter perfection? If it weren’t for that bedroom being right off the kitchen, and if it weren’t for the cabinets containing food being about 5’ away, I’d be dead for sure. I remember how strenuous it was to get up, grab that Devil Dog out of the cabinet, then hop back into bed. I pretty much fell back into bed. Anyway, I could ever so barely muster up the strength to do this, and I remember it took 10 minutes to slow my heart down and gather enough strength just to eat the damn thing. I think – tell me I wouldn’t have died if the food had been further away or even on another floor. Tell me my own mother wouldn’t have let me die – but she would have. She just didn’t care. Perhaps I did the wrong thing by saving myself. Maybe I should’ve let myself die instead of fighting for my life that day while she played backgammon in the next room with her gal pal Charlotte, determined to have a good time and not let her virtually dying daughter ruin her day. Maybe I should’ve let go and given up, sparing myself many years of emotional and physical grief, and maybe teaching this pitiful excuse of a mother a lesson. Maybe it would’ve served her right if I’d died when I jumped instead of breaking my arm. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Later…

Another hour will mark the date we moved exactly one year ago. I never would’ve believed it in a million years if someone had told me the freeloaders would still be a problem, either!

I feel both rejected and relieved by Tom’s not hitting me for sex after all this time. Maybe I don’t turn him off, but I sure feel like I don’t turn him on, either. I feel like the last time I really turned him on was when we first met. It’s that way for me, too. I know most of his turnoff stems from his baby fears and his stubbornness to admit this to me. I still think something’s wrong with me, but it doesn’t matter cuz a woman doesn’t have to be sterile for a kid to be not meant to be. I just wish he could see this! Even if he opts to never cum again, I wish he could see that there’s no way I could conceive anyway, and if there ever was the slightest chance that I could, he’s made sure that that’ll never happen.

Regardless of who’s afraid of what and of what’s destined, I wish I’d started things off right! I wish I’d let him screw me from the get-go and not been like I was; having to go slow. I wish I’d been on birth control. Maybe that would’ve saved us from a lot of BS; if I had gone by the fact that most guys don’t want kids, and by the fact that I’ve known pretty much all my life that that wasn’t meant to be anyway, and had gotten on birth control or gotten myself permanently fixed.

Sometimes I wonder – did this man, who’s so wonderful and so close to perfect 95% of the time, trick me into marriage by telling me he’d cum regularly and that he wasn’t afraid to have a kid? Did he, and is he still, assuming I’d just throw my life away on account of his cumless dick and fears to just sit home all my life and clean the house? Did he assume I’d give up and lose the desire to pursue my dreams? Well, I definitely lost the desire, and I’d definitely rather be bored here at home with him than worse off all alone somewhere else. If I’m right about any of this, though – how dare he take me for granted like that, assume so much, and risk losing me while doing it! I may not want a kid like I used to, but the point’s still the same – he’s always lied, strung me along, and made such lame excuses about it, and I wish to hell he’d come clean. If he hasn’t yet, he obviously never will level with me honestly about his not cumming, unless he intends to wait till after menopause. Nonetheless, he should’ve leveled with me up front. I had a right to know the truth from the start. Not figure it out for myself in time by watching his actions. If he had had a genuine physical problem or came out and bluntly admitted to not wanting a kid, that would’ve been OK. I’d still have loved him enough to marry him. And whether or not he continues to bullshit me, I’m with him for life either way, but it’d still be nice to hear the truth. Knowing the truth and seeing the truth is one thing, but having it admitted to you is another. I don’t expect I’ll ever get an admission from him like I should have up front, but better a late one than to never receive one at all.

Do I want him to hit on me tomorrow, Sunday, our usual sex day? Yes and no. If he’s reading my journals he’d know I might be ovulating at this time (if I really do) so that may either scare him off or scare him into playing games, which he also finds quite amusing. You know, the one where he “forgets” how to fuck me, or is just too soft altogether. Sometimes he never gets hard, other times he deflates right before he’s about to enter me. Then again, I might’ve mentioned bleeding a couple of weeks ago, and so he wouldn’t necessarily need to read this with his great memory. And he has an easier time, like most of us, remembering the things that are most important to him, too. Anyway, I want him to hit on me so I don’t have to feel like some abnormal freak (something I feel enough of already), and I don’t want to feel like a turnoff, but he turns me off as well, just for different reasons. So, I don’t want him to hit on me, cuz I can’t get aroused because of his predictability and because of his not getting all that into it. It’s hard to get off by someone who doesn’t get off by you, and God only knows I managed to do so for the first year or two. I’m not saying I’d necessarily get off regularly if we suddenly had spontaneous sex where I never knew what to expect in bed from him, and where there was a 50/50 chance of his cumming, but I might more often.

Tom may find me more of a turnoff than any other woman he’s been with, due to how bad I wanted a kid at first and cuz of my aggressiveness, but I don’t think he’s ever been a very sexual person to begin with. He’s just not big on sex and is even sort of prudish. The guy wanted me to shut the blinds in the bedroom one time, and I was like – oh, please! How the hell are people going to see in a house with no lights on, in the daytime, from a few hundred feet away? If it weren’t for his low drive and prudishness, I might wonder if he was cheating. They say that if you’re not getting it from your mate, you’re getting it elsewhere, but this usually applies to those with an appetite.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2000 Got new ink cartridges, and again the black is smudgy. Black, purple, red, and pink text is a bit smeared, but blue and green text is OK. Even so, I managed to print out decent-looking 2001 calendars. What is it with this brand, though? Is it just me that’s getting the defects? I’m sure it is, cuz certainly they couldn’t all be this way, or else they’d be out of business by now. Why is it I always have to be the one to get the defects? Does something up there feel I’m such a defect myself that defective things are a perfect match for me? Damn! Defect this, defect that. Another tire blew, too. It was fixed for free, but must we suffer so much more breakage and hassles than usual?

Got a Social Security statement in the mail showing my barely existent work history. It was kind of neat to see, nonetheless.

Woke up at 112 pounds. I suppose that’s why I can’t shit today, huh? I’ll be back to 115, I’m sure. At least I don’t have to be so stingy with my calories anymore, and can very easily maintain where I’m at as long as I stick to the exercise like I have been consistently doing so for nearly 6 months now. Even so, I’ll only treat myself to the wonderful caramel-flavored cappuccino they make now only once a month. Maybe even less often than that.

For calendars, I printed out Ma’s Christmas calendar, and pictures for calendars we plan to have around the house, but I didn’t do the calendar part of it yet. That’s because Tom’s going to go online to get me a holiday list. I told him I don’t need to know Jewish ones or meaningless ones like Flag Day. I just want the ones that he won’t work on.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2000 Tom just went to bed and I’m recording the individual gymnastics competition.

Shortly after he got in, a knock came at the side door again. My heart started booming almost as bad as UPS had it going. After a couple of knocks on the side door, I saw a uniformed black guy go to the front door and knock there. I thought it was a Palm Harbor rep, and they seemed pretty desperate, so I finally agreed to open the door. His shirt said, “school maintenance” and he said he was looking for a house with a boy who has to walk over 2 miles to a bus stop, and he said they’re looking for a better route for him. He asked Tom how to get to a certain address, but he had no clue any more than I did as to its whereabouts. Why would you go knocking on doors asking for better directions when you can look at a map?

We read together, and Tom sketched an outline of the land, house, and things we plan to build and add to the place. We talked about putting a camera outside so we can see what wildlife and any vehicles that may approach the house. I like the idea (the kind of surveillance camera a bank would use). Also, although it’s very unlikely anyone would want to go out of their way to bust in here, the camera should be a good deterrent to anyone with common sense.

Tom says there’s a cat in the neighborhood. It might live next door, but we’re not sure.

I’m gonna be sending Paula a little Christmas present. I decided I’d send her one of the 2001 calendars I made up that I don’t think came out all that good, although I’d think she’d like it, and a copy of my story. I got an extra copy since Ma was able to make out the smaller print copy. I’ll keep the large print copy I got and send Paula another smaller print copy.

I was saying earlier how people make such big deals out of such little things – well, they made a big fuss about how amazing it was that one of the Olympic swimmers was deaf. You mean you gotta hear yourself swishing through the water to be able to swim? Oh, please!

Another thing that made me just want to reach through the TV and slap some heads, was the silver medal gymnast winners. They cried and got all miserable and depressed over getting the silver and not the gold, and I’m like, it’s just a piece of metal for Christ’s sake! Even if they didn’t get gold, silver or bronze, if I had half their body fitness/muscle/measurements, and half their skills, I’d be on cloud 9. Talk about being greedy and getting bent out of shape for nothing!

Well, I’m gonna go get the oven cleaning. I do it at night when it’s a bit cooler. It’s so cool; just turning a knob and having the oven clean itself without my having to do any scrubbing at all.

Later…

All the all-around medalists were Romanians. They’re the ones that won the gold in the team competition, too. I was glad to see the ones that stripped their silver medals off in disgust during the team competition not get anything for the individual meet, cuz they’re just too spoiled. Selfish little bitches. If you can’t appreciate silver, you don’t deserve shit.

What I saw during a news report only serves as a reminder of how unfair life is. Funny how someone can get away with beating someone up, while I go down for sending non-threatening mail to someone who made my life a living hell for years. I wish I was a black guy! Yeah, a black lady got kicked out of the Olympics for drugs, and cheating – something they love to do, and she and her fiancé were at the airport preparing to leave. Meanwhile, a cameraman films them, the fiancé flips, beats the snot of the cameraman, then gets away with it. The cameraman had to go to the hospital, and this is something that was filmed. You could hear the whole thing, including all the threats, and see most of the action, yet all the cops did was talk to the assholes. No arrests at all were made. Some world we live in. I tell you, it’s a great time to be a minority in this world, and it’s always a great time to be a guy. Wish I could paint myself black and put a dick between my legs on court day!

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 2000 Tom’s home now. God, I got pissed at him this morning! I felt both insulted and hurt. I still feel that he’s defending those freeloaders and that he’s on their side by the way he’s gotten on my ass for my part in all this and with the way he’s stressed how much he wants me to work out my anger problem with Helen. I feel he feels they did nothing wrong, even though he’s admitted they were noisy and rude. I’ll bet the bitch’s boy toy never says some of the things Tom says to me. Does that cock say he wants her to see a therapist when she rants and raves about me? I’ll bet he doesn’t. Does that cock tell her to “move on” when she bitches about me? I’ll bet not.

It started when I came stumbling out of the bedroom just when he got up. I expressed to him that I was a bit stressed and frustrated cuz the black bitch was eating at my brain like she does on and off, and then he starts in with how he hopes Helen can help me to control my emotions, etc. What an insulting thing to say! As if my emotions aren’t normal with all that’s been going on? I’m being dragged through the mud by the very people who perpetrated me. Of course, I’m going to be somewhat emotional at times. I’m sick of people implying there’s something wrong with me when I show emotion. Can’t someone get stressed out and angry at those who wrong us? I didn’t hit him or harm myself.

Then he insults me further by saying I should move on. Move on? And how can I do that? How can I do that when I have to go and face these fuckers again in court, make weekly calls to Sharon, deal with probation officers, and God knows what else? That is not moving on. When the day comes that I don’t have to do something solely because of them, then I can move on and begin the healing process of what they’ve done to me and put me through, but not until then. And the thing of it is, is that I’ve told him this before when he’s told me to move on. If he’d listened to me he’d know why that’s just not possible while I’m still under this bitch’s thumb. That bitch practically owns me.

I’m just sick of being made to feel like I’m screwed up while he’s perfect. I reminded him that he’s got problems too, yet I don’t suggest he go run to Helen to find out why he blames me for his not cumming and says I’m pressuring him when the real reason has to do with his own fears. I don’t suggest he go run to Helen when he gets moody/frustrated by things I think are the most ridiculous things to get moody/frustrated over. I’ve accepted that unlike me, he doesn’t want to get help for his problems and he never will. Meanwhile, I’ve accepted him as he is, even if some of his ways affect my day-to-day life, so why can’t he accept me? Just because I express myself in a more aggressive manner than he does, and just because I’m not afraid to show/express my emotions, doesn’t mean he’s any better than I am. He’s more content with life and with his ways than I am about life and with my ways, but I’m me and he’s him. Period.

Also, his saying I need help “controlling” my emotions is contrary to what he’s said in the past. In the past, he’s told me not to try to control my emotions and to just let them be whatever they’re going to be. Anyway, although he denies this, he obviously has just as hard of a time with hearing me vent my anger and frustration as I do with having to feel these emotions, so I think it’d be best to bitch about life and the people in it to Helen only. And in my journals, of course. It’s Helen’s job to sit and listen to people bitch, so I might as well get our money’s worth and let her do what she gets paid to do.

This whole freeloader thing has gotten so out of hand and so blown out of proportion. People are either forgetting or just not willing, to see the big picture. The big picture is – they victimized and harassed me. And like I said before, nobody forced that bitch or the people back east to read my mail. All I did was send this bitch mail, not kill her. I never once directly threatened her or her associates in my mail, either. We all get letters and mail we don’t like from time to time. So? Big deal! If you get letters/mail you don’t like – throw them out. If you get messages you don’t want to hear – erase them and move on. But this spiteful, sensitive-in-the-wrong-kind-of-way bitch couldn’t move on, and therefore, I cannot move on. I just can’t believe the big stink people will make out of such petty bullshit! If we all ran to the cops/courts about mail we don’t exactly like or want, the bulk of us would virtually live at the police station and courthouse. You mean, there are actually people out there who can’t handle a few phone calls and a letter or two? I can see it freaking out a woman who got mail/calls from a violent ex or something like that, but good, God! I’d hate to see them try to have to deal with the shit the freeloaders put me through and all kinds of other shit I’ve had to endure during my life. I’ve often thought I was weaker than most people. Maybe not. Maybe they’re the ones that are actually weaker and maybe I’m a little tougher than I’ve given myself credit for.

Later…

Although I was up 18 hours yesterday, I only slept 7. I felt rested enough when I got up at 1:00, though. It’s nice to take a break from the pressures of the alarm. I can’t take weekends off like Tom and most people can from alarms, cuz it fucks my schedule up and makes it hard for me to back it up to where I’m going to bed earlier and able to get up earlier, too.

I’m quite proud of myself for doing hundreds of ab crunches a day. However, and sadly enough, I don’t have anything to show for it. My stomach looks almost exactly like it did months ago. Tom suggested that if I want to change my appearance quicker and shed some more fat to expose my muscle that is definitely there under all this fat, I should cut out my refined sugar intake. For the most part, the only thing I have containing processed sugar is what’s in my coffee, but I don’t have just one cup a day, either; more like 4-6 cups. I have a cup of regular when I get up, then decaf throughout the rest of the day. Perhaps he’s got a good point. A lot of these athletes who work out like I do, although much more extensively, do not allow themselves sugar. It’s not so much how much you eat as it is what you eat. As long as I work out regularly, I don’t have to be stingy with my calorie intake and that’s all well and good, but I still have a layer of flab that jiggles and that I shouldn’t have. Not for as fit and as solid as I am otherwise, and not after paying over a thousand dollars for this exercise equipment. Tom thinks I look thin and fit, but I disagree. I don’t look huge and horrible, but I don’t look like I have any muscle, either. It’s too hidden. If I can shed the fat that’s covering it, then I’ll look thin and fit. When I look at my upper arms, for example, as they hang limply by my sides, I see no muscle tone whatsoever. When I feel the thing, though, that’s a different story. Then I can feel the muscle definition. I can flex the muscles in the shoulder area and see those, but for a home gym like Bowflex, I should be able to see the muscles I’ve got just by standing relaxed. I shouldn’t have to flex them through fat. So, since tea is pretty boring, I’m gonna switch to coffee that you brew and use sugar-free creamers and artificial sweeteners like Sweet-n-Low.

Tom saw his mom, who was stressing out over Mary, which is understandable. Mary’s got an appointment tomorrow. I laughed when Tom said Mary said she’d feel embarrassed that people got all worried for nothing if it turned out not to be a big deal. Better to be embarrassed for nothing than to find out you’re either going to die or you’ve got a rough road ahead of you. She’s a wonderful person; I think she’s got a rough road ahead of her, but will probably be allowed to live.

Don’t know how long Oreo and Butter Rum are gonna live, though. Oreo’s throat tumor is nearly as big as her head, although she doesn’t appear to be in any pain or unable to get around. I just noticed Butter Rum’s tumor on her side yesterday. To say mice and tumors go hand in hand is quite an understatement!

Later…

They got me again. Yeah, the old folks, sister, brother, and the whole sick clan just popped into my mind and I’m having an awfully hard time shooing them out. They’re like cockroaches that just don’t quit! Instead of unpleasant and unwanted thoughts/memories of them bringing anger like they used to, they bring anxiety. Like remembering a car accident or something like that would. I’m just glad I ditched them from my life when I did. No, I wish I’d done it sooner, but better late than never. I can’t believe no one’s been killed yet, and I still firmly believe that as soon as Art or Doe goes, there’ll be major violence at the funeral if not murder, and I’m just sooo glad I won’t be there! Larry, Tammy or Ronnie will go at each other in some way. I just know it, and I’m just so glad I won’t have to be in the middle of it, cuz I’m no little girl anymore. If Ronnie, who’s no match for me, came at me, I know I could never restrain myself from clobbering him. Since around the time I came to Phoenix, I know I wouldn’t have any self-control if anyone were to threaten or come at me. I’m just too bold now to cower down, win or lose. I’ll stand my ground at any cost and not allow myself to be bullied like I have been in the past. It scares me to think – just what would I have done if Larry, Bill, and others were within arm’s reach when I was burning with rage at them? Would I have killed them or beaten them so bad that they would’ve wished to hell I did?

Anyway, it sure would be nice if Helen, or anyone, could give me total amnesia when it came to these people! How I wish to hell I could delete them from my memory!!! I’d do it in a heartbeat. What a depressing thought, though, to know that I’ll have to live with the horrible memories connected to the people back east, plus the blacks and Mexicans, for the rest of my life. They can pop into my head and visit anytime they like and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I guess it’s better that they can intrude upon my thoughts, rather than in my life (even if some of them are still very much a part of my life), but it’s tough enough as it is. Them butting into my thoughts is intruding upon my life.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 2000 Tom just went to bed. For the rest of the night, I’ll be reading, listening to music, maybe singing softly, and watching the women’s gymnastics that I’m taping. Although tonight’s games run for 5 hours, you barely get an hour of gymnastics. That’s because they have other events too, along with commercials and interviews with the Olympians.

I’m a bit stressed and depressed right now, but what else is new, huh? If it ain’t one thing, it’s another. I still can’t believe I was ever thrown in jail and forced to go to court for this shit with the blacks, regardless of whether or not she and her cronies did shit to us to deserve it. I mean, it just seems so petty! What a waste of time and money going after me for this. Never once in my mail to her, or to the Mexicans for that matter, did I ever directly threaten them. So she got some mail she didn’t like – big deal! We all get mail/letters we don’t like; should we all go running to the cops about them? This world is so damn sensitive and spiteful! All she had to do was not read it, throw it out, and forget it. Same goes for Bill and Tammy. No one made them read my mail and listen to my calls. If they didn’t want to hear from me, all they had to do was erase my messages without listening to them, and if they didn’t like what I had to say in my letters, they shouldn’t have read them. They should’ve and could’ve just ditched them and moved on.

Although I don’t vibe it as strongly as I did for a while, I still fear going to jail. Not just because of God’s “lock-up” pattern, but cuz the state wouldn’t mind spending the money. They waste money all the time.

If these assholes had been white, would the law have come down on me like it did? Somehow, I doubt it. Like I said, times have changed. You could kill an off-brand in the past and get away with it, no questions asked, but today, if you so much as dare to even look at one wrong, you’ll get lynched for it. Just like all the rights used to go to the whites in the past, all the rights now go to the minorities. Everyone’s quick to believe the word of minorities before the word of whites.

Tom said that he hopes Helen can brighten my outlook on my future. That’s a laugh. If she could do that, then we could’ve done that ourselves by now, but why bother? My future’s my future no matter how I look at it. It’s etched in stone, a done deal, destined to be what it’ll be. I realize more than ever that I’m never going to be fully happy and content with life. The next 35 years will be 85% bad, just like the last 35 years (almost) have been 85% bad. I’m not going to repeat past mistakes again by tricking myself into believing I have a destiny other than the one that’s meant to play out. No, I can’t have a career or a family should I decide I want one, and that’s that. There’s no sense in getting me to think I could have/do things I wanted to, just to be let down and disappointed by reality in the end. This is my destiny. I’m living it right now. I’m going to court for the people who victimized me, I’m cleaning the house, doing my usual hobbies, etc. That’s my life. Period.

At least my life is much better than it used to be and I don’t have as many problems/worries as I used to. I may not be able to pick and choose a career or have a kid, but at least I’ve got my freedom (I hope) that I’ll always be able to keep and hang onto because of not having a kid. At least I’ve got Tom. That’s the most important thing right there, even if we don’t turn each other on (sex really is such a small, insignificant part of a relationship) I don’t have to deal with things alone in an apartment in the city, and I do have some things to look forward to, too. It’ll take time, but I know I’ll get more dolls someday, go to Vegas, play miniature golf, etc. There’s still some life left out there to be lived by me.

I had a hard time getting up when the alarm went off at 9:00 today, cuz I had trouble falling asleep last night, so I decided – fuck it, I’m doing a rollover. I need a break from this little blackie and to take back my life and to have a little teeny bit of control over it, if only for a little while.

I hope to hell I get a chance to express myself in court. After these freeloaders lie about me, I want to be able to tell the truth about them and let the courts know, even though it won’t do me any good, that these people are perpetrators too, and that I’m a victim as well, and let them know why. I feel that keeping quiet about them would not only make me feel like I lacked self-respect, but it’d make me feel like I was covering for these people, and I sure as hell don’t want to protect these assholes from the truth, even if I don’t have the evidence to do them in for their wrongdoings. They’ll never do a day’s time for what they did to me and they’ll never pay a dime for it either, but by God, I’ve got a right to tell my story too, and to let the judge know just what we’re dealing with here!

In my next letter to Paula, which I hope won’t be handwritten, I expressed my concerns to her about the bad vibes I’ve had pertaining to Justin. I didn’t tell her that part of it was logic, having nothing to do with being psychic, cuz of the kind of mother she is. I knew all along this was coming, but it’s getting closer – him being in trouble with the law. We’re talking big stuff, too. I have drug/robbery vibes, but not like I do with assault, rape, and possibly even murder. I didn’t want to scare her, but I felt it my duty as her friend to warn her.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2000 I’m in the mood to write, but I have nothing to say. Perhaps that’s for the better, though, cuz lately, whenever I do have stuff to say, it isn’t good news.

Guess I’ll get on with my scanning project. I’m still scanning in signs from my signing book, then I’m going to crop them, make wallpaper out of them, and print them out when I get new ink.

Later…

Liar. He’s such a liar and I’m sick of it. He’s working out with energy he’s not supposed to have. In reality, he’s got enough energy for sex every day. So it’s not energy he’s lacking, it’s desire. But why can’t he just admit it? I did.

Anyway, UPS scared the shit out of me today. They knocked on the side door and my heart started booming so loud and so fast. I thought it was going to jump right out of my chest. I ran to the living room and looked out the front windows. At first, I saw nothing. Then I saw a UPS truck heading out. We got a letter saying we’re behind on our house payments. Yeah, I suppose I can thank a certain freeloader for that. Anyway, he said that that’s why we’re getting the loan. It went through, but we haven’t received the check yet. After I thought about it, I realized that the cops wouldn’t have knocked on that door. At least the ones that were here didn’t. Their door of choice was the front door to knock on.

I finished scanning all my signs. I changed my mind about printing them out. If I wanted them printed out, I’d have left my sign language book intact. The idea was to convert to an electronic version.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, 2000 Paula’s going to be getting 3 envelopes from me. That’s cuz I handwrote what I normally print out for her. She normally gets 6 pages of text. Especially with all that’s been going on. Well, those 6 pages of text turned out to be 27 handwritten notebook pages.

Saw another prairie dog by the well again yesterday. I put some salad out, but I don’t know if they got it.

Just when one fear of mine is eased, pertaining to our infamous freeloaders, another one pops up. Tom pointed out that it’s unlikely that the freeloaders would know any of the judges in the courthouse we’re dealing with, cuz she didn’t even know where to sit. That’s nice, but it’s a certain fetish of God’s that worries me. He has an obvious fetish for having me locked up, confined and stuck in places I don’t want to be in. There were the camps I was forced to go to (even if I got kicked out of them), the beach I was made to sit on every goddamn day of the summer, the hospitals and schools I was confined to, the apartments I was stuck in, etc. So, doesn’t it sound like having me go to jail would be something God would allow to happen? That’s totally something he would do. It fits into my pattern, so to speak, and that’s scary.

If there’s anything I learned about Arizonans, it’s that most of the people out here, unlike most of the people back east, tend to spite themselves to get at others. People have their ups and downs in all parts of the country, but out here they’ll make total fools of themselves to bring others down. That’s why I was surprised that the blacks and Mexicans would turn the mail over to the cops; cuz of all the shit I wrote about them, both true and untrue. On the other hand, if I’d sat down and thought about it, I’d have realized – they wouldn’t care. They were too full of hate and venom to care. All that mattered to them, and all they could think of, was getting at me.

Later…

Right now I’ve got mixed emotions about one of my biggest curses – sex. I’m glad he didn’t want it for the second weekend in a row, cuz you know how sick of it and bored I am by it, but now he says he’s gonna start working out again. Well, not that I expect he’ll stick to it, but if he hasn’t got the energy for sex, where’s he gonna get the energy for working out? And if he was too bummed out to screw cuz of Mary, how can he work out? I just don’t get it. I know that from the get-go this man has been terrified of the thought of impregnating me and I know he has a low appetite, but what am I missing here? Just what is it about me that has this man so turned off? I sense there’s something else besides the two basics. It’s more than a lack of desire and a fear of a kid, but what? What is it? Something I said or did? With me it’s simple – I lack the desire to have sex with him cuz he’s too predictable and it’s boring. Also, his lack of desire to cum snuffs out my desire to cum, and it’s not new and exciting anymore. But with him, I feel there’s something else to it. Something I’ve been missing for the last 7 years. Something not so obvious like his baby fear and his not being big on sex to begin with.

Maybe he didn’t touch me this weekend cuz of how I told him I felt I still had irritation down there. I even had him look at me to check for any signs of redness or anything, although he didn’t see any. He said it was up to me whether or not we did anything this weekend, but then I told him, no, it’s up to you (since when is anything about sex up to me?). He said OK.

Other than that, I saw the pickup go by without any music, I’m watching gymnastics in the Olympics, which is in Sydney Australia, and that’s it. Can’t sleep in tomorrow as long as that black bitch owns me. She owns my life, and therefore, I gotta be up cuz Don’s gonna call any time now.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 2000 Tom had a good idea for the big plastic pipes the well cocks left; to use them as supports for the porches and fill them in with cement. I like the idea. Then maybe for once and for all I can stop having to play Leak and Bucket, although in this case, it’s Leak and Towel. Having rain seep under one of the doors is better than having rain leak through several spots on the ceiling, but enough is enough of the leak curse! Especially with a brand-new house!

I’m glad today’s Saturday so I can have one more day off of sex, and I hope to hell he’s too stressed out (not that I like to see him suffer), or at least not in the mood to screw around tomorrow. I’m really afraid it’ll hurt. I still have irritation down there that just won’t quit. I know I could be the one to make an excuse, but again, despite the fact that he’d be perfectly content to never have sex again, such as I would be, I feel so guilty! I just can’t get over the guilt of saying no to him, but if I could just get over it since I know, logically speaking, I shouldn’t feel guilty, then I could say no more often to his games and to the same old, same old. But for now, when he approaches me for sex with a little grin on his face as early as 1:00, I just don’t have the strength to say, “No. I know you’re up to something, which no doubt is the I-just-can’t-seem-to-get-in-there game, and I’m not in the mood for it.” Again, it totally amuses this guy to see me turned off.

Let me go cook his chili-mac and vanilla pudding, then I’ll write more. I like to cook for him on weekends. Makes me feel more of a wife, so to speak.

Later…

Here’s the status on Mary: she went to the doctor and they’re gonna do more testing to find out how widespread the cancer is. If it’s contained within her throat, they’ll do radiation therapy, but if it’s spread out, they’ll have to resort to chemo, which means the poor girl will have to go bald and puke her guts out. Now why can’t this be happening to a fucker like the black bitch I’m cursed with? Huh? Why does it have to be someone like Mary?

Mary’s pretty disgusted with David right now and I don’t blame her. After doing a disappearing act for quite a while, David and his family visited Ma on Thursday and she told them about Mary’s case while she was at work. Well, they didn’t even have the decency to call her later on. I know having kids robs you of your life, but that’s downright selfish and insensitive! Ma’s gotta do what she’s gotta do, but again, I’d will very little money to Ray, David and Steven (although who knows how helpful/supportive Steven would’ve been if he’d lived locally), and most of it to Mary and Tom. They’re the ones that have done the most and cared the most.

There’s not much more to say about my visit to Helen. Just that she thinks I should’ve pushed my case with the freeloaders the legal way. Yeah, right! By the time that might’ve gotten me anywhere, I knew we’d be long gone.

I didn’t yet get into my dull and sometimes shitty sex life. I just said that Tom’s a wonderful guy with the exception of the fact that he’s a slob and he sucks in bed. She grinned at that one. She also grinned when I mentioned how where there is one Mexican there are 50 when I was explaining just how many freeloading assholes I had to deal with.

When I told her I didn’t think she could help me with my anger after all this time, she said, “There are no magic words I can say to you, but that there’s a time for learning things.” Maybe, but even so, I have my doubts about her until and if I’m proven differently.

She too, believes there’s a reason for everything, and I told her why I believe in curses as well as blessings. One of the things she said really hurt, and that’s that most of her life has been good, in her opinion. Not that I’m not happy for her, but a good 80%–85% of mine has been bad in some way or another, and this only went to prove that yes, I was singled out for a reason. Why else do some people get what they want in life and find more happiness than others? Maybe there is such a thing as reincarnation and I’m due to be compensated in my next life. Maybe my next life will be mostly good, and maybe I’ll be one of the ones to get the career she wants, to get the kid if she wants it, etc. Tom said the problem he has with the reincarnation belief is that there are more people now than there were years ago, so where did all the souls come from? Good question. Maybe they were created when the new people were created. After all, these souls would’ve had to start somewhere, wouldn’t they? But then there’s been times when the population has dropped, so where do all those souls go and how is it determined which ones come back? I don’t know, maybe the souls that don’t return are the ones that get fried in hell. Still, why has God picked on me so much? I know he’s picked on lots of others too, some in worse ways, but let’s just take me, for example. Why? Why has he been so determined to keep me from much happiness and the things I want? Is it a vengeance thing? A compensation thing? Maybe I already did live, and in my last life, things were great most of the time.

Not that they shouldn’t be, but things have been very quiet around here. No pickup banging by, nor have I even seen it go by quietly. No renters, no Danantics. But of course, now that I’ve written this, it’ll all change.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 2000 I still haven’t finished all I discussed with Helen, but that’s simply because I wanted to take a break from the fucking subject. It’s been nothing but black this and Mexican that, just like when I lived with them, and aaarrrggghhh!!! Blacks and Mexicans, courts - I just get sooo fucking sick of them! I started to write earlier, then it was like, enough is enough! I need a time-out from this freeloader shit, even if it’s only for a day or two.

Anyway, back to the freeloaders and the story of my life. It won’t let me do a rollover, despite the fact that no one’s booming and my dentist, therapy and court dates are far enough away because Don could want me to hop on into his office any sec. I just don’t know for sure, but my guess is that I won’t be seeing him for 2-3 weeks, judging by what he told me when I called him yesterday. I can’t take chances, though. I need to be ready, alert and available for whatever may come up, which means I gotta stick to being on days.

I was amazed that I got right through to him on the first try. I called, a woman answered saying, “Pre-sentencing,” I asked for Don, she put me through to his extension, and he picked up. He didn’t sound friendly or like an asshole. He was just there. I have a feeling, though, that things are gonna reverse themselves like they usually do (unless it’s a curse that just won’t quit), and that he’s going to turn out to be a real asshole. I just can’t imagine having two Sheila’s in a row, even if one of them has a dick between their legs. Anyway, he asked me when my sentencing date was, I gave it to him, and he said we still have time, so he’s not worried. Then he told me he still had other cases to go through before he got to mine. He asked whereabouts I lived and that was it till he calls me back. Tom said it could’ve been a test to see if I’d really call. Yeah, I think it was cuz OK – people are incompetent, but even so, I find it hard to believe that the interview lady didn’t know he couldn’t have gotten to my case that fast.

I’ve done major cleaning around here the last couple of days. I just got sick of being bored and wanted to do anything to get these freeloaders off my mind for a while till I’m forced to deal with them again. It needed a good cleaning, too. I gathered up all the dolls and dusted them. I put them all, except for the biggest two, on one of the tables by the mice and took a picture of the crowd, too.

Heard from Dan last night. At least I think I did. There were a couple of times, although it was hard to hear over the fan, where I thought I heard a car stereo. When I looked out towards Meadow Green, I didn’t see anything either time. The first time I checked Dan’s, his place was dimly lit, including the carport, but I didn’t see any movement. The second time it was brightly lit and I saw the taillights of a car leaving his place, suggesting the car with the stereo might’ve visited, but I can’t be sure. What I heard could’ve been a loud, rumbling engine for all I know.

I’m gonna take a break, then I promise to finish up with Helen.

Later…

Just fried up a tortilla, which the rats also love. They weren’t as thrilled with the baked potato skins, though, as I thought they’d be.

I’m kind of bummed about this, cuz I really wanted to get down around 100–105 pounds, but I think it’s time I cut my losses and just settle for being 115 pounds. I just don’t have the willpower to lose any more weight and I’m sick of working so hard. There are worse things in life than being 10-15 pounds overweight, so I think I’ll just move into the maintain status now. I think asking to be 100-105 is as unrealistic as the black bitch was. You’re being unrealistic and setting your expectations too high if you think you can harass people and get away with it without getting some kind of reaction. Well, I’d be just as foolish to think I could lose 10-15 more pounds and keep it off, too.

Since I’ve got all weekend to write about Helen, I’ll start writing my letter to Paula, since it’s obviously going to be a while before I get cartridges.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 2000 If only I knew how soon Don wanted to see me. Then I could do a rollover if I wanted to, cuz I won’t see the therapist till October 12th (I guess she’s going on vacation), the dentist till October 23rd, and the courts till October 30th. Well, I’ll find out tomorrow when I’m scheduled to call him. I’m sure he’ll want to see me within a week. He’s going to want to see the person behind the voice.

Anyway, I could do a rollover cuz I doubt they’ll be booming for a while. I was wondering why I hadn’t heard them yesterday or the day before. Well, Tom told me two planes hit that were flying from CA. I was like, already?! I didn’t think they’d crash again so soon after starting flying again.

Later…

With the exception of birds and lizards, Desert Winds Ranch continues to be a ghost town. Haven’t seen any p-dogs or snakes.

OK, now for my trip to see Helen S. Unlike Paul, she was what I pictured her to be; a plain-looking, middle-aged woman. She was fairly petite, fortyish, with close-cropped blond hair. Probably the married-with-children type (depending on how far God allowed her to go with that if that’s what she wanted) and she had the nicest, most comfortable therapy office I’d ever been in. All the other therapists had rooms no bigger than closets, with hard-backed or slightly cushioned chairs you find in most waiting rooms.

Later…

God, why is it that as soon as I get busy doing something, I have to shit? I guess it’s better than being stuck. Anyway, I spotted something good along the way – a p-dog! Yeah, it was down by the well. Still none in the usual spot out front.

Anyway, Helen was in this old house in Tempe that reminded me of the old house next to the small Community Care building in Springfield that I’d see Martha in. It wasn’t as old, but it was still weird being in a house like that cuz there just aren’t many houses in Arizona over 50 years old and with two stories. We stayed on the first floor, though. We came into a little entryway and found paperwork waiting to be filled out. God, I am so sick of filling out forms! No one was at the desk. Helen said something about her secretary being away. Anyway, once she got to be 15 minutes late, I decided to give her a total of a half-hour, or I’d walk. She was 20 minutes late and I asked if she was usually that late, cuz no offense, but $25 was a lot for us to be paying for her to be late. She said I’d still get my 50 minutes and no, she wasn’t usually that late. The 50 minutes flew by fast, too.

She led me back to an office with cute little knickknacks and even a bowl of candy. I sat on a plush loveseat while she sat in a regular chair such as what was in the waiting room. Unlike my other therapists, she scribbled down notes the whole time. From the moment we sat down, it all came flying out. Mostly the events of the last few years. I rambled on and on non-stop. She seemed untouched by most of the things I’d told her. Not that she didn’t necessarily care or empathize with me, but like she’s heard it all. That sort of thing. She may not be able to really relate to anything I’ve told her, though. Her life may have been “too good” for that, in a sense, but I’ll get to that later.

Up front I told her that I talk fast and tend to change subjects a lot and that I have ADD, making it hard for me to focus. I also told her I tend to talk a little loud what with my being hard of hearing, and that due to my loudness, I may sound more emotional than I really am at times.

I didn’t get too much into my childhood yet. There was only so much of my life I could cram into 50 minutes. It’ll take several sessions before she knows it all, so to speak, if I see her several more times. I told her about the blacks and Mexicans, the NHA, and mostly about the events that led me to her. I told her I’ve had a problem with anger, too. I just hope she can remember everything we discussed, despite her notes, since it’ll be a month before we meet again unless the courts make me see someone else. If they do, at least they’ll pay for it.

Later…

I was trying to read, but the black bitch won’t let me. Yeah, it’s that time again where she’s eating away at my thoughts and she just won’t get the fuck out of them. This bitch just doesn’t go away! I know she never will, either. I do fine for a while (although it’s been depressing for me having to face up to knowing my life is truly over) and then she pops into my brain like a bad disease and I can’t kick her out and cure my thoughts of her. She’s just not easy to get rid of when you consider how pissed off she makes me. I got to thinking – if she really does work for the courts, and since she’s already abused her authority this much, how much further can she go? How much further will she go? If she’s pals with any of these judges or has any way of influencing them, I’m fucked. Another thing that worries me is having to pay money directly to this bitch that she certainly doesn’t deserve or is owed by me. This bitch owes me. Hundreds of dollars, and maybe even thousands when this is ever over. Tom said they might make me pay her the cost of changing her phone number, if she did, but I doubt she changed it. I’m sure they’ll find some reason to force me to pay her something since I’ve been forced to do everything else concerning this little fuck, but I can’t see paying for her to change her number as one of them. She’d want me to call her so she could get me into as much trouble as possible.

I’m just sick of people telling me what I gotta do. And where I gotta go. It’s just so unfair! Sooo, so unfair. Life is so fucking backward it isn’t funny. God, kill these fucking freeloaders! And do it in a way so I couldn’t possibly be blamed for it, like a fatal car wreck or something, please! If you have any mercy left for me whatsoever, just a tiny inkling of respect – kill them and give me my life back (not that it ever fully belonged to me)!!!

Always with me, always with them.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12, 2000 All’s been quiet for the last couple of days; no music or gunning. This is Maricopa, though, so that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

I had the strangest cramps today. Not only are my periods getting erratic beyond description, but so are my cramps. Why can’t my period just start and simply stop like it’s supposed to? Why do I have to spot on and off for weeks at a time? It’s gotten to the point that I’m doing this monthly now. Earlier I felt slight cramps that turned into heavy cramps, out of the blue, at such an odd time of day. I thought the 4 ibuprofen tablets I took were going to be worthless, cuz it seemed to take quite a while to relieve the pain. What was strange was that the cramps came in waves. Usually, you either have them or you don’t. They’re a steady thing. Nonetheless, mine came in waves and seemed to be concentrated more on one side. At first I was surprised I had nothing but spots for all those cramps, but then I got more of a flow. More flow than I’ve had in a couple of months or so.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 2000 Got another day of freedom where I can just live my life, but come tomorrow, it’ll be time to humiliate myself yet again at the counselor. Not cuz I’m shy or afraid to discuss my troubles, but cuz I feel I’ve been reduced to therapy mostly on account of the blacks and Mexicans, but definitely more by the blacks. We lived together longer, this case is now about them, and they’ve certainly humiliated me much more than the Mexicans. Tom disagrees, but I see having to resort to therapy after all these years as a huge demotion in life. And if I think the last court date was humiliating, wait till next time! Next time is gonna be when the blacks get up and say how horribly I treated them, all the while appearing to be perfectly innocent little angels. I just wish I’d videotaped them and their shit, kept the note, saved the phone messages, etc.! With my shit luck, it wouldn’t have done me any good, though. I’m being compensated for getting off in the past, and I’m sure I’ll also be compensated by the therapist and probation officer. Because Cassandra was so nice, I’m sure Helen won’t be so cool, and because Sheila was cool, I’m sure this cock I gotta deal with will be a major hard-ass. Even Paul said that although most probation officers really do want to work with clients, see them succeed and get them off their caseload, there are a few that are a different story. Yeah, I’ve been in enough funny farms to know all about power-play. There are at least a few power-tripping assholes in every batch of teachers, managers, probation officers, and within any of the more authoritative fields. Well, I’m counting on being stuck with one of those Donna A/Margaret M types.

I don’t expect it’ll do me a damn bit of good, but Tom wrote that character reference letter nevertheless. He wrote it well and I appreciate his doing what he said he was gonna do. Of course, he wouldn’t dare mention that they did stuff to me, too. Much more than I did to them. Again, I don’t think he thinks they really did much wrong. He said something about not wanting it to sound like we hate these people. Well, I certainly hate them, but what he said was fine. He said I was caring, considerate and good with animals. He mentioned how I write to his mom and am seeking counseling for my anger problem. He also wanted to stress that what I did is in the past and not an ongoing thing that stretched into this year.

Neither of us screwed this weekend cuz of all the stress that’s going on. What else is new, huh? It wasn’t just my shit that snuffed our desire, but Tom’s really bumming about Mary having cancer and so am I. It’s just sooo unfortunate and sooo unfair. How do people screw regularly enough to have kids? (those that can have them) Life is one thing after another, so where do they find the time and how do they get horny throughout life’s constant ups and downs? Well, I still get horny and get off even when the shit’s hitting the fan, so maybe it’s just a matter of who we get off with. Unlike when we first met, I can’t get off with him not getting off and not getting all that into it. His fears snuff my desire and I’d just assume to take care of myself. I’m sure he feels the same way but for different reasons. He can’t get off with me cuz he’s too scared I’ll get pregnant. He’d never get off, though, even if I had to have a hysterectomy. To him, getting off after a hysterectomy or menopause would be admitting my beliefs about him were right, so he wouldn’t get off as a cover for the truth, but I can see right through him regardless. Anyway, if I can ever get these freeloaders out of my life for good, it’ll be on to something else. Something that’ll no doubt be an ongoing problem for years, since I rarely have big problems that last just weeks or even months. But you know what? I’ve dealt with these fucking freeloaders being a huge problem for 4 years now, and I’m sick of this shit. Really sick of it! If I gotta be so damn destined for one problem after another, be it long-term or short-term, then I’m ready for a change. A breath of fresh air would be welcomed any time, even if it ain’t so “fresh.”

I could tell by the way I shit this morning that I had been stuck for a couple of days. I practically shit 4 times in a row and was a pound lighter afterward. I guess my metabolism is speeding up over time, cuz I can’t believe all the calories I’m able to get away with lately! Yesterday I had nearly 2000 calories and I thought for sure I’d be 117-118 pounds, but nope. I still need to cut back again to try to lose some more, though. I’ve also increased my workload. Meaning, I’m doing all the exercises every day, rather than some one day and the rest the next. I’m proud of myself for not missing more than 2 days of working out since I began last April. I still have a long way to go, though, and I don’t know if I can go any further, but we’ll see. Like I said, this is right where I got stuck the last time. The only difference is that it’s easier to maintain the 113-115 pounds this time around, whereas the last time, I had to struggle to stay down there cuz my body wanted desperately to get back into the 120s.

Later…

Tom talked to Mary today. She hasn’t seen the oncologist yet, but she has a list of referrals. She’ll probably see someone next week.

I’ve still got mixed emotions about seeing this therapist. What can she tell me that could really help me? If I couldn’t help myself, and if Tom couldn’t help me (although this last round of mail really purged most of the anger in me), then how can this stranger help me? What could she possibly say to me that’d help? Tom says that sometimes it’s the things that are the most obvious that are the answer. The things we least expect. Then he reminded me of how I was the one to solve the computer problem we had, which was something so obvious, yet he’s the one with the expertise.

Although the bulk of my anger towards the people back east has dulled out, and although the same thing would eventually happen with the freeloaders as well, if they’d only get the fuck out of my life and stay out of it (cuz the relief of finally having them out of my life would be so strong that it’d override any other emotion), I don’t know how I’m going to handle future neighbors that piss me off. I just know that I’m not going to deal with them the way I did with the freeloaders. The way I’ll probably handle them will be in the only way I really can without worsening things for myself - by just taking their shit. All one can do with assholes like the freeloaders is just ignore them.

No, not ignore them. They make that impossible. So, since they can’t be ignored, the best thing to do is nothing. Taking action, legally or not, almost always makes things worse, so I’ll just sit and listen to it the next time I’m near people like that who blast music, party outside for hours at a time, etc.

Another thing that bothers me about seeing a therapist is that it’s just one more thing I gotta do cuz of the freeloaders (I’m sick of doing for the freeloaders!), and while I’m doing this for Tom too, what’s he do for me? Meaning, I quit smoking for the guy, I’m going to therapy for the guy (not that some of this isn’t for me as well), but would he ever go see someone about his not cumming if I asked him to? No, of course not. If it were up to him he’d never discuss it or deal with it. He’s the way he wants to be and I do accept and understand the fact that no one can make people change. The courts can make me see a counselor or a probation officer if they want, but they can’t make me want to or change me in any way. If he’d prefer to make one lame excuse after another about the way he is, and if he’d prefer to stay the way he is – fine, cuz a kid’s the last thing I want to be dealing with anyway, and I still feel the same on that issue as I have for the last few years now. I’m OK with not having a kid. I’m just not that desperate anymore, though I’ll always wonder about it. Nevertheless, I’m looking forward to not having a kid, but I don’t like being controlled by him or God when it comes to my right to choose. It should’ve been my decision to make. The only thing I’m grateful for is that we never had a kid up till now, but if I changed my mind and decided at 40 years old that I wanted a kid again, I should have the right to have one. I didn’t kill anyone. There’s nothing to say I’d treat it like Dureen and Tammy treat their kids, so I should have the freedom of choice.

But I never will. I’m prepared to live my whole life childless, and again, it’s OK. I’d rather be bored than run ragged by a child, and like I said, life’s hard enough as it is. I don’t need to bring a kid into this world to suffer it’s non-stop BS. But I don’t want to hear no bullshit excuses, and I don’t want to be controlled, either.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2000 My measurements are ridiculous: 36-28½-35½ with 21” thighs. The thighs are doing better, and losing over 2” in the thighs in 5 months is good, but losing a measly 1½ in the waist is pitiful. So is my waist size relative to my tits and hips. If my tits and hips are going to be 35-36, my waist should be much smaller. It should be a 23-24 period. Especially at my height. I’d happily settle for a 25, though. Nonetheless, I’m never gonna be the 33-23-33 I’d like to be with 18” thighs. Tom thinks I’ve lost a sufficient amount of fat and inches in the last 5 months, but I feel it went too slow, and that I’m stuck where I am right now. October 1st is getting closer, and once again, if I still haven’t lost any more weight by then, I’m going to move into the maintain status. I’ve got mixed emotions about this; yes, I want to lose more weight and get smaller, but I’m so sick of all this hard work! Things could be worse, though. I could be 150-200 pounds like your average American woman. Well, I’m definitely not your average American or even non-American woman. Most women have kids. Hell, I can’t even sleep with my own husband I’m such a light sleeper, and I can’t even have a normal sex life.

The renters took a Saturday off and didn’t blast off last night. Haven’t heard from Dan either, but I keep the fans on during the late afternoons/early evenings, and all day on weekends.

My ink died so I wrote by hand letters to Paula and mom, Mary and Dave, although I’d already had a few pages printed for Paula. I just wish she’d write back! At least once a month. If she doesn’t work, how can this be asking too much of her? How can it be asking too much even if she did work? I wish she’d write monthly, not just to let me know what’s going on with her, but to let me know she’s alive and getting my letters. How do I know she isn’t dead or in jail/prison and not getting the letters when I don’t hear from her for months at a time? If I don’t hear from her in another month or two, I should probably stop writing till and if I do. I don’t want to be sending letters she may not be getting and have all my time, money and work go to waste.

I finally got Tom to dust and vacuum his office. He even neatened it up a bit, but it won’t last. By the end of the day, the room will be chock full of junk again.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 2000 Got some really shitty news. What else is new, though, huh? This doesn’t pertain to me; it’s about Mary. The lump samples they took from her throat are cancerous. How sad. She is so cursed. Not quite as cursed as we are, and not always in the same ways, but still, hasn’t God put her through enough? She has a type of lymphoma in her throat, and you know what, although I don’t have a death vibe on her, I wonder if she’s “too good” to get through this as well as Bill has (if he wasn’t exaggerating or lying altogether about what he had) because you know how it is – the more of an asshole you are, the more likely you are to live longer, and vice versa. Bill’s been carrying on a normal life for years now and will live a full life, but what about dear, sweet Mary, despite the fact that most cancers are now treatable and survivable? Dear sweet Mary who would never verbally or physically harm a fly? We won’t know more till she sees a cancer doctor next week.

And once again, my anger and hatred towards God and his cruel, unfair ways only deepen.

I asked Tom what one of the most humiliating experiences he ever had was, and this is what he told me: He told me that when he was in the Air Force, he refused to take the required flu shot, not because he had anything against flu shots, but because he felt like he was being controlled by being ordered to put something into his body. So he refused and then a couple of weeks later he got the flu. He said it was humiliating to have to ask for the very thing he refused.

I can relate to his dilemma all too well. I know what it’s like to be controlled and have things forced into my body that I didn’t want in my body (all the years of psych pills). I also know what it’s like to be controlled by not having things in my body I did want in my body once upon a time, too (a kid). Still, I’d trade places with him in an instant. Not that what he went through wasn’t bad, but at least he didn’t go through the same old shit from so many different people, some being your so-called family, and for so many years. I’d also trade in the years of freeloader shit I’ve been going through for a flu shot argument anytime.

It’s back to being June out there, scorching hot. It’ll cool down soon enough, though.

Not much else to report on till the renters blast off tonight, and of course, Dan could decide to get engine happy any time now, as the day cools off.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 2000 Yesterday was sooo humiliating. So so fucking humiliating! But first, I was surprised I only slept till just before 9:00 this morning, but it’s a good thing cuz they are back to booming in the sky. They boomed by just after 9:00 and again a little while ago, and I doubt it’ll be just a few days that they’ll fly this time around. The odds of them crashing another plane so soon seems quite slim. But if they closed the bombing range, then where are they flying to? Maybe what Tom heard was just talk. Anyway, I won’t do a schedule rollover like I’d planned.

Tom agreed with me about Paul not calling cuz he really thought he missed me in court. He was calling to remind me about court. Then why couldn’t he have simply said so? What is it with society and their dancing around the subject? Why is society so afraid to be blunt? The English language was created for a reason. Even so, for some strange reason, people see direct honesty as rudeness.

Tom woke me up at 5:45 with coffee and I was dog tired, cussing the assholes out in my head for waking me up even more here than in Phoenix! By 6:30 we were out the door headed for the dead Denny’s by the hotels we stayed in (and I thought life was so rough and frustrating then!). I got bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausages. Next time I think I’ll just get pancakes. They’re really good and I don’t have them that often. I also hope that next time there won’t be any ants on the bottom of the syrup holder like there were the last time.

We got to court with nearly an hour to spare. When Paul first came into view, I knew it was him, even though he didn’t look like I pictured him to look. For some reason, I pictured a chunky blond guy, not a thin dark-haired guy. This guy was just under average height, kind of scrawny, fortyish, Italian-looking. Anyway, he bored the fuck out of me with legal talk. The legal talk was basically about the terms and conditions of my plea bargain deal. He said he personally felt this judge we were going to face was “strange,” but not to let myself be shaken up by him. Well, I personally didn’t find anything off about him, but I don’t intimidate that easily anyway, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ever allow myself to be riled up or bullied in any way by any kind of authority figure. It did piss me off when the judge read how an attempted stalking charge meant that I caused the poor little bitch to fear for herself and her family. My ass she was scared! She was pissed, was what she was, and she only went to the cops out of spite. Anything to get at me. Besides, sending journal excerpts is NOT stalking.

I guessed we’d be stuck at the courthouse till noon–1:00 and I was right. What shouldn’t have taken more than a half-hour took nearly 4 fucking hours. I won’t hold my breath, but right now it’s looking like I’m going to get just one year’s probation and counseling, which is better than 3 years of that shit or jail, but I never should’ve had anything to begin with. I did nothing wrong. All I did was express myself. No one forced the bitch to read my mail. I’m sorry if she had a problem with what I said in my journals, but you can’t fuck with people and expect not to have problems as a result of it, and again, the law may say I did wrong, but I say they’re lucky I didn’t do more than I did. A lot more. They got off quite easy by me since it was nothing but words – words I really needed to get off my chest - and I don’t feel one bit sorry for these people. I just don’t.

Anyway, Paul says to me, “Everything will be fine. Believe me, I’m a conservative thinker. I don’t tell all my clients this.”

Yeah, right! I mean, how do I know if he’s bullshitting me or not? The cop bullshitted me, so why/how can I trust him? I won’t know till this is finally over someday, but it is over with the Mexicans. At least, that’s what they told me. Part of the plea deal stipulates they drop the Mexican shit altogether and change the stalking charge to attempted stalking with it being dropped down to a misdemeanor instead of a felony pending “successful” probation (I started with a class 5 felony and now I’m at a class 6 undesignated felony).

Yeah, well, I ain’t about to breathe a sigh of relief and celebrate my finally being free of the black bitch, cuz it’ll take time going by without incident for me to believe it. You know what they say – seeing really is believing. I wonder why they dropped the Mexican lady and kept the black one. Could it be because I called the black bitch and not the Mexican lady? Tom thinks she works in the courts somehow, somewhere, and that’s how she got this pushed as far as it’s gone and knew where we’d be yesterday. He believes Mr. Biased was telling the truth about dropping it, but she abused her authority within the courts to push it and says that’s the type of job a welfare program would have – to wean them into some form of city/court job. Yeah, the fucking bitch looks like court personnel of some kind, so maybe Mr. Biased did tell the truth, and maybe this bitch is abusing some kind of power. There’s no denying that this bitch and Miss Mex look like direct opposites. The Mexican lady was huge and sloppily dressed. This bitch is slim and dresses with style and neatness. A classy-looking professional, so to speak.

We also suspect a huge possibility that Mr. Biased knew damn well it wasn’t over when we had our little “chat,” and that he and the bitch may be close friends – as in VERY close friends – based on the way they carried on in court.

Nonetheless, if having to be arrested, spend the night in jail, and lose all this money and time we lost isn’t humiliating enough, how do you suppose I felt when the bitch and her boy toy showed up to watch things play out in court?! As if I wasn’t already humiliated, degraded and victimized enough!!! This must be how a rape victim feels, I thought, having to face her abuser all over again. It’s a wonder they didn’t show up for my last court date. I know I’ll have to see these sick fucks at least one more time too, cuz they sure as hell wouldn’t want to miss the fun part – the sentencing, which will be on October 30th. No, they wouldn’t miss it for the world. Tom was wrong when he said they’re no longer involved and that it’s just me and the state from here on out unless he didn’t want to tell me differently. I knew deep down that they had a right to be there, but I just didn’t consciously think about it with all I already had on my mind. I should’ve known, though, and it just goes to prove how vindictive and determined this little bitch is. She just doesn’t know when to give up and let sleeping dogs lay and move on. She just won’t go away! I felt victimized all over again by them being there, and I just wanted to fucking smack them! Wanted to shout to them, to the judge, to everyone, that they were 10 times more the perpetrator than I ever was, and list the abuse they put me through, and Tom, too. Wanted to look that bitch in the eye and ask, “Did you really think you could do all you did to us and not get a reaction of some kind in return?” That’s what’s scary about these people; they don’t know right from wrong. They think it’s OK to harass their neighbors, and who knows how far these very sick and very determined people are capable of going, despite their charming appearances? I know they’ve got our address, I just know it. Maybe the Mexicans do too, but truthfully, the Mexicans seem more the type to hunt me down and do God only knows what to the house than the black bitch and company. You just never know with these people. You just never know. Maybe they’re waiting, biding their time. Maybe they’ll come crawling back out of the woodwork in a year or even a few years? Like I said, they just won’t go away. Always with me, always with them.

They say talking or writing about your problems helps, and usually it does, but sometimes it just reinforces all my negative feelings and intensifies my emotions. Tears of anger, frustration and humiliation are in my eyes right now as I write this. How much longer am I going to be these people’s victim? How much more time and money am I going to lose to these people? I know they’re going to end up making me pay a monthly court fee of at least $50, and God knows what they’ll make me pay directly to the bitch herself.

Later…

I have to write about this rather horrendous and traumatic ordeal in spurts. It’s just too upsetting. These fucking freeloaders are still very much a part of my life and it makes me sick!

Hello, Dan. What took you so long to start your engine-gunning shit up again? Yes, it’s definitely Dan. No doubt about that. I brought in one of our 3 box fans, cuz the sound machine’s too soft to drown out his shit, and it looks like this is gonna go on for hours. At least he’s nothing compared to what I had to endure from both sets of freeloaders. I won’t even think of fighting any noise out here, cuz as I learned the hard way, that’d just make things worse.

Tom said that in respect to what I feel about these people, it was funny how she didn’t want to walk by me. Under normal circumstances, I’d find it funny too, but nothing about these sick twists is the least bit funny. Nonetheless, the cock walked by us and sat next to Tom (I was on the aisle). There wasn’t any bench space anywhere else on that side of the room and the front row was reserved for lawyers, so the cock walks by us, glances at me with an I don’t know what kind of expression, then sits next to Tom who was on the inside. The cock’s expression was almost that of a sad one, but I don’t know. This thing never struck me as a very emotional kind of cock, anyway. He’s very Art-like, under his bitch’s thumb. She dictates and dominates the relationship. This would be easy enough to tell even if I hadn’t seen it before in couples like Art and Doe. He’s passive, while she’s an aggressive, loud, tyrant of a bitch who thinks she owns the world and everyone in it.

Anyway, just as he was passing us, she called to him, then spun around and left the courtroom (it would’ve been even funnier if Tom had stuck a leg out and tripped the cock). Maybe he passed us and sat near us to let us know they were there - who knows? They might’ve noticed that I noticed them before. As I turned and glanced towards the aisle, I found myself staring right up at that sick face of hers and she recognized me right away. So shortly afterward, he left, then together they came back and sat on the other side of the room, getting their kicks out of watching me up at the podium as the judge went over the legal terms of my plea just as Paul had, asking if I understood this and that, if I was on any medication, etc., while they got to get away with their shit. How lucky that bitch is that God spared her the humiliation of having to walk by me. Why couldn’t he have spared me the humiliation of being arrested, jailed, and robbed of my time and money by my very own instigators? Huh, God?! God, I hate you!!! I really do!

Maybe he’s compensating me for not having anything happen to me when Stacey and the butch pulled me into court, and for dodging getting served for the bottle toss. I don’t know, but either way, I’ve paid enough! OK? I’ve been made to pay enough! This is wrong and He’s got to know it. Just living with these people for the years I lived with them is enough, to say nothing of all the emotional stress, anguish, anxiety and frustration these people put me through in Phoenix. How much more can you hate me, God? How much more can you punish me? When is enough ever enough? Who are you gonna sic on me when I finally am free of these freeloaders someday? The renters? Dan? Someone else? Someone not even in the area yet?

Later…

Tom got in a little while ago, saying he didn’t hear a thing from Dan. So he didn’t go on for hours this time, huh? I’ll still keep my fan on. This guy’s home all the time, and he could start his shit any time. Besides, the circulating air feels nice.

Got some cinnamon scent cartridges for the office and master bath. Still got that tropical mist oil in the bedroom.

I asked him about the bombing range closing, and yup, it’s all talk and no action. He said he heard they were contemplating shutting it down. They won’t shut it down. I can guarantee that, and if they did, things would get noisier by way of people’s music around here. In a way, I don’t want Dan to shut up, cuz I know I could be replaced with something worse. At least they can’t get right up to the house!

I also asked him why he thought she wasn’t at the courthouse when I was arraigned and he said she wouldn’t have known about it, and remember how the judge asked – has the victim been notified?

Some “victim” she is! Poor, poor little bitch. What a victim - boo hoo!

After seeing the black bitch, I wondered if I saw the Mexican bitch, or at least their associates, but I don’t think so. Not if they dropped them from my life, and I didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they were in the wrong room or connected to the inmates who were also present in one section of the room. This time, the jail folks didn’t appear on TV, they were there live, sitting in the jury box. There were about a dozen cocks (mostly white) handcuffed and chained together, and a few women, too; two non-whites and a white-zitted blimp. Anyway, a couple of adult female Mexicans with a couple of kids around 5 and 8 sat behind us for a while. Again, I didn’t recognize any of them, but I could’ve sworn that after one of them got up to talk to the sheriff in charge of the chain gang, she gave me a slightly smug smile as she passed by me before she and those she was with left the courtroom. Again, I don’t know if there’s a connection or not.

After the courtroom drama, it was off for more bullshit at the adult probation department where we waited an eternity after I filled out a general info form. A woman finally called me and took my picture with a digital camera. One that takes the picture right onto the floppy rather than onto a card you insert into a special floppy like ours. After that, we went to a different floor where she asked me nearly 200 questions, which took about an hour. A lot of them were alcohol and drug-related and didn’t apply to me. So much for wanting to not give out too much information, as I prefer. I’ve learned through experience and by having information about me used against me that it’s best not to tell people any more than they need to know. I was tempted to lie when she asked me if I’ve ever tried to commit suicide, but I’d already answered enough personal questions as it was, questions that could be checked out and verified, that I decided the truth would be best. She asked me questions about our finances and my family. I told her I wasn’t in contact with my folks and she asked me about my childhood. How was I disciplined as a kid? she asked me. By having the things I liked taken away from me, being emotionally and verbally abused, and sometimes slapped around too, I told her. What was the most traumatic experience I had as a kid? At first my mind was overwhelmed with a zillion different things and I simply told her there were numerous experiences. Later, after the question had time to sink in, it hit me what the answer was: being sent to Brattleboro, Northampton and Valleyhead. Runner-up to that would be my emotional state primarily through my grade school ages. God, was I sooo depressed! Stressed and depressed, but definitely depressed. That woman really depressed me with the way she controlled me and cut me down!

Some questions seemed to be totally irrelevant, like do I think tattoos and body-piercing are OK? I said yes, a person should have the right to do as they choose with their bodies. One amusing question was, are there any gangs, graffiti or gunshots in my neighborhood? There certainly are gunshots! (I explained the hunters to her and just how remote we are) I answered "some" when she asked me if I felt cops really help people and if I felt authority figures abuse their position. I answered "yes" when she asked me if I felt society was to blame for most of the world’s problems. That, and God, but I left God out of it. Again, what people don’t know and don’t need to know won’t hurt them.

After asking me more questions like, do I think it’s OK to obtain money illegally if I can’t legally (naturally I said no, but who knows what I’d really do if I were in a desperate situation), she gave me a couple of envelopes with both addresses and return addresses on them, saying I could get anyone, including Tom, to write a character reference for me. Tom, and maybe Mary too, will be doing this for me, but I don’t see what good it’ll do. Anyone can get someone to write good things about them. So what? Loverboy could write about how wonderful his sick bitch is, but would I believe it? Of course not.

She asked me what I felt I should get for this, and after I expressed the fact that the “victim” isn’t the only victim in this case, I said I felt therapy was enough, but would accept both therapy and probation, stressing my need to “move on.” That was my only lie. What do I really feel I should get? I can’t be given any time back that I’ve lost and nothing can take away the emotional suffering I’ve gone through on account of this, and even physical when my stomach would act up, but what I should get is restitution for any sums of money I lost to this. I should be paid back the bond fee, parking costs, gas money, and things like that.

I’ve got to call my probation officer, Donald, on the 14th, but at least I have over a month before I have to go back to court and be victimized and humiliated all over again. And just because we struck a deal with this plea bargain doesn’t mean it’s guaranteed to stick. It’ll depend on the judge. He could disagree with the deal and send me off to jail, so I haven’t 100% escaped the threat of jail. So, a male PO this time, huh? The woman told me that although she couldn’t be certain, Don may go for just phone contact since I live so far away. Yeah, right! I’ll bet you anything he’ll want to see me within a few days after my call on the 14th. I’m sure he’ll want to see me in person once a week, although if the judge lets us stick to our deal, it’ll lessen over time.

Later…

Tom’s gone to bed. Life may suck in general, but I look forward to the little things in life – reading in bed together this weekend, a stunt show and a new movie I’m taping, etc.

If I remember any more questions the court lady asked me or anything else of significance, I’ll jot it down. Meanwhile, I was determined not to let the little shits get me down, so I enjoyed the rest of my day. Went to a couple of bookstores that were practically side-by-side. One had mostly new books, and I didn’t like the way it was laid out. I like books to be laid out by subject as well as by author. The next store was better organized and most of their stuff was used. I got 4 books, mostly supernatural suspense, rather than mysteries.

I was so exhausted by the time we got back 8 hours later that I napped for a couple of hours. I closed my eyes to block out freeloader thoughts, but they slipped in under my eyelids, for God’s sake! Then into my nightmares, too! That bitch even controls and lives in my damn dreams! I gave a yell as I woke up (I guess we were chasing each other around the courthouse) and Tom was on the phone with Mary who asked what that was. Oops! I’ll tell her in my next letter that I simply had a nightmare.

It was great going to bed last night knowing I wasn’t going to have to get up to an alarm, even if I didn’t sleep as long as I thought I would. I wouldn’t have been able to anyway with them booming by, but I’ll take my chances tomorrow. They might boom by tomorrow, but maybe not, so I’ll sleep in tomorrow, too. Come Sunday or Monday I’ll go back to setting the alarm and getting up around 8:00 - 9:00.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2000 Paul called at 1:00, scaring the shit out of me. He calls apologizing, saying he’s worried he missed me in court, and I was like – What?

I told him court was tomorrow, and he was like – Oh, today’s Wednesday.

I thought to myself, no shit, you stupid ditz! What kind of lawyer forgets this? I wondered if there was some other reason he really called that I wasn’t seeing. The pig that came before the swat team used the Robin H story to verify who I was, the biased pig, God knows why, told me it was over when it wasn’t, so again, am I missing some load of bullshit here? Was he really calling just to see if I was around? I don’t see why he would. I never gave anyone any reason to think I’d run off, as much as I wish I could run from this shit. I’m just so sick of it!!! 4 years. 4 fucking years! When is it ever gonna end, huh? When?!?! God, set me free of these sickos.

Sorry – never mind. You’re the wrong one to be asking for any kind of help.

Our Maricopa freeloaders in the red pickup went in and out quietly. Yup. Stereo is broken. For how long, though? Will they fix it? Learn to live without it? Move out?

I thought I heard planes booming at 2:30, but I couldn’t be sure. It could’ve been thunder, but I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that cloudy. I just hope I can sleep until I wake up naturally the day after tomorrow. I am sooo tired and it’s been sooo long since I’ve slept without having to wake up to an alarm.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 2000 Just left Sharon my weekly message, reminding her that I’ve got court this Thursday. I am not looking forward to this! How humiliating this is going to be! It’s been nearly a year and a half since I lived with the blacks and almost a year since I lived with the Mexicans, yet I still live with them. I still do what they say I have to do.

Always with me, always with them. Will I ever be able to say: Once with them, but never again? After 4 years of this bullshit, I highly doubt it.

I’m a little disappointed in Mary. Not mad like with the blacks, Mexicans, and people back east, but annoyed, irritated, that sort of thing. We’re obviously not getting her big TV, and what irks me is that she even bothered to bring it up. Well, you shouldn’t bring something up like that to a person unless you’re serious. She got me a bit psyched up at the idea, and it’s not the first time I’ve been let down, and it’s certainly not the end of the world either since we have a nice enough TV that they got us for our anniversary, but that’s beside the point. I should’ve known better, too. God wouldn’t let us just have a big screen TV any more than he’d let us just have that trailer. There is a good side to not getting the TV, just like with the trailer, and that’s that we don’t have to be punished for it, cuz anything we do get, we have to pay for in ways that most people don’t.

All I heard yesterday was that 3-minute drive-by bass session from our local freeloaders. I’m sure they’ll let me know at some point, even if it’s just once when they go by again.

Houdini’s behavior was cute and funny the other night. Ratsy’s too. I guess they love tuna fish too, cuz they were both licking extra tuna from a little bowl. These things really will eat anything. That’s one of the disgusting things about rats, as Tom pointed out. When one dies in the wild, other rats eat it.

Later…

I guess Tom will be home any sec. Meanwhile, I’ll do some writing.

Again we researched the black snake to try to identify it. For a minute we thought it could be a black rattlesnake, but once again, its looks and behavior fit that of a coachwhip.

I saw the pickup go quietly home at around 1 PM, and some time yesterday, after they went banging by, they went by quietly. Stereo broken already? It’s too soon to say for sure. After a few more times of going by quietly, I’d say yes, because they wouldn’t opt to not play it that many times in a row, but not until then.

Later…

Tom just got in. Said another tire blew. Thanks again God, for your wonderful timing.

Last night I woke up sweating twice. It was really weird. And when a power failure woke me up at 7:30, right around when I was going to get up anyway, I was sweating then, too. The power was only off for a few minutes. Anyway, it wasn’t the least bit warm in here, so I can’t explain the sweat spells.

This may sound even stranger, but I realized something lately. I’m no longer raging over the assholes back east. Don’t get me wrong, I still hate them, wouldn’t want to associate with them, and would never forgive them, but I no longer find myself gripped with sudden feelings of rage like would be the case for so long (perhaps my final round of mail did it). It’s like with the folks – the emotions I’ve had towards these people have gone numb, and as with the folks, if someone told me they died I would be like – so? I wouldn’t feel anything either way. Despite the years of abuse they’ve dished out to me with their lies, manipulations, control, vindictiveness, negativity, insensitivity, hypocrisy, contradictions, phoniness, moodiness, and despite all the times they were wishy-washy, two-faced, and stabbing me in the back, they’re a completely closed chapter of my life and I don’t want to know them from a hole in the wall.

Later…

Next weekend, when Tom’s here when I get up, I’ll have to have him do something I haven’t had him do in a while - take my measurements.

I tend to leave him messages throughout the day, letting him know this and that, so I don’t forget to tell him later on. In one of my messages, I let him know that telling me to “talk less” when I mention anything about sex, is a major turn-off to me. I was like – you mean I can discuss it with my therapist, but not my husband? Gee, thanks! Anyway, he tells me he didn’t mean never to talk about it at all, but not at that moment. I told him he should reword himself next time and say to “talk later.”

I haven’t seen one prairie dog today. Haven’t seen hardly any lately, no doubt cuz of the snakes hanging around. I kept telling Tom I vibed snakes being under the bedroom and he’d laugh at me. Well, laugh no more, I told him, cuz today I saw a black snake go under the skirting by the bedroom. It could’ve walked up to the side of the bedroom, then slither around the corner to the retreat, but I doubt it, judging by its angle.

Looked back to see when I had my first prairie dog, Iggy, and snake sightings. First saw the prairie dog in March, the iguana in April, and the snake in May.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 2000 I couldn’t get into the book. Well, I’ll just wait till Thursday. Thursday, after court, we plan on stopping at a used bookstore.

This is the quietest Labor Day I’ve experienced in the last decade. Well, that might be stretching it a bit. Labor Day of ’96 and ’97 were basically the only noisy ones of the last decade, thanks to the blacks. The blacks were quiet for ‘98’s cuz of my city letter, although I’m not sure. I thought I didn’t send the letter till late ’98 or early ’99 (I should’ve sent it in March ’96), but I know there was a Labor Day when they surprised me by going somewhere else for a change. Other than that, Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s, everything had to be celebrated at their place at our expense. The Mexicans, on the other hand, weren’t any noisier than usual cuz to them, Labor Day was like any other day, cuz they were too lazy to work. The blacks did work, and I don’t get how they got a free house any more than the Mexicans did. Not only do I not get how you can get a free house simply for being too lazy to work, but I also don’t get how you can get one if you work. If you work, why do you need someone to give you a house? Not that we’d want one, but Tom works, so could we get a free house? I doubt it. I have a feeling we’re too white, and we’re certainly childless. All the hand-me-outs go to those with kids, handicaps, and skin that ain’t white.

I’m surprised it’s been as quiet around here, too. I didn’t expect it to sound like Phoenix, but I thought there’d be some music and gunning, but nope. Not yet, anyway. If anyone blasted off last night, I wouldn’t know it, cuz I didn’t turn the fans off to check. Even the pickup hasn’t returned to making several trips in and out per day.

We screwed earlier, and what a fucking joke, as usual. I not only had the irritation I know I’m stuck with for the rest of my life, but he’s so damn predictable. I told him I’d stop him if he was too soft to go in there. “Talk less,” he told me.

I thought communication was important in a relationship. Well, obviously not to him. Especially when it concerns sex and when you’ve got a husband who dominates sex according to how he wants it, without a care for what you may want. He asked if I wanted to wait cuz I didn’t seem so excited (gee, I wonder why!) but I said it was up to him. So I did him by hand for about 5 minutes, and he went up top for about 1, then suddenly stopped to say he thought our potatoes which were in the oven would be done any time. Any normal guy would’ve carried on till the timer beeped, but he was gonna cum. I know he used that as the perfect excuse to quit before he squirted, but why? Why make such a huge sacrifice when there’s such a thing as birth control? I still don’t get that, and I obviously never will.

He researched potbellied pigs some more online with me in the room with him, and I don’t want one. A miniature pig gets to be a whole 125 pounds and they cost over $100.

We tried researching p-dogs to see if we could find out why I haven’t seen them much lately, but we’re still not sure what they’re called out here. What they call prairie dogs is in the Midwest and is a lot bigger than these. I don’t know if they’re going out of season or if there are snakes around scaring them into hiding.

Later…

I gotta stop saying how I haven’t heard from the freeloaders, or whoever, cuz again, right after I last wrote, the fucking freeloaders went blasting by pretty loud. Tom and I could both hear them from his office. Fucking mother-fucking freeloaders!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 2000 I did an experiment yesterday and switched from Albuterol back to Primatene and it seemed to help me get to sleep more easily. The Albuterol makes me more jittery so that may be why. Maybe I’ll stick with the Primatene for a while. It was still hard to get up after barely 8 hours of sleep, and I was like – you fucking freeloaders! Fucking freeloaders! Get out of my life! I just want to fucking put them behind me where they belong and get on with my goddamn life – aaaarrrrgggghhh!!!!

Anyway, the good news is that I’m losing weight without even trying. Lately, I’ve had no willpower whatsoever to keep my calorie intake down to 1000 calories, give or take 100. I’m still working out every day, rowing for 3-5 minutes, and doing 15-20 minutes of exercises. Actually, I’d say I’m having an easier time keeping my weight down than I’ve had at losing it. I’m 112½ pounds. Will I get down to 110? I don’t know. I haven’t had any dreams or premonitions saying I will, but my logic says I will. Or at least my wishful thinking does. As I said earlier, though, this may be it. I may not lose any more weight/inches from here on out.

There is one thing I did vibe that happened; the renters blasted off last night. I wouldn’t have known they did without my turning the fans off to listen to what was going on around me. Now, I can’t swear it was them, but it probably was. This was just before 10 PM. Dan’s place was pitch black all night. Again, this is out of character for him when he’s home. When he’s home at night, and inside the house, a window is aglow with light. Back to the renters – I got a distinct feeling last weekend that these people would blast off every weekend, and it goes with my vibes that told me there’d eventually be music from back there. I’m just glad it’s weekly country music, rather than daily Mexican or rap music, but give it time. Just give it time and we’ll have a whole shitload of freeloaders back there, home all day and night with nothing better to do than blast music and harass their neighbors. Anyway, you can hear the beats with no fans on, and I can live with that even though I shouldn’t have to. No one should be forced to listen to other people’s music within their own homes, be it in the city or rural areas. It’s a sick sad thing, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Someday, we’ll wish these kinds of stereos still existed, that’s how much louder they’ll keep getting.

When Tom was out burning at 7:00 this morning, he said he saw the renters zipping up and down their property and alongside Dan’s on the motorcycle. That early?! I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, but what would they be out that early on a motorcycle for? Trying to wake up those late Sunday sleepers? Probably so. Tom said he got the impression they were working on the thing, the way they’d try it out, then seem to make some sort of adjustment to it. I think they’re trying to draw attention to them and their place, or else they’d be riding on the roads.

Later…

Earlier, I thought I saw Dan walking around his property, but I can’t be sure. I think it might’ve been him cuz of what he was wearing, and why he’s being so quiet beats me. Maybe that music I heard last night was his, although he never usually sits and listens to it in total darkness. When he blasts off, he’s outside with the place lit up. Anyway, he was wearing a white T-shirt and a white cap. I swear – every time I see this guy, that’s what he’s wearing. Does he own no other outfits? Or are all his shirts white?

Tom helped me get eardrops in the bad ear. I had to have his help because that ear is now totally deaf and I couldn’t tell when the canal was full. I can tell in the other one, cuz sounds get softer as it fills up. He looked in it and said there was a bunch of dead skin, so that may be blocking the canal, but I don’t know. I think I’m deaf in that ear and have been for some time now. No big deal. That’s all I knew for 29 years.

We watched TV together, read together, and did things on our own; he raced his car on the computer and I sang. I listened to music, played with Houdini, took a shower, did a little load of laundry after Tom got his work clothes dirty in applying the car’s final epoxy treatment, and now I’m writing. I don’t expect I’ll have anything more to say today, other than to write about tonight’s music, but I can do that tomorrow. I don’t expect we’ll screw today, either. Couples who aren’t really into that tend to put it off till the last minute, and this weekend, the last minute is tomorrow evening. So, I guess I’m gonna shut down early today. I’ll go read one of the two Robin Cook books I think I might like, cuz I finished my third John Sandford book, and hope to hell I like it, cuz I don’t know how soon I can get to a bookstore.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 2000 Last night was quiet. I started to believe Tom’s theory about someone else opening up Dan’s place and getting it ready for him was right, cuz of something I saw that was out of character for Dan. A light outside the back door burned late into the night, yet he’d never have that light on unless he was outside. When he was inside, he’d turn the outside lights off. I know he couldn’t have been outside cuz it was too quiet, and cuz he also has the carport-like thing lit up too, when he’s out. Tom said he heard movement over there while he was out working on the car, but again, time will tell if it’s him, although it probably is. If it is, he’ll blast off or gun off at some point during the weekend, although his shit’s not limited to weekends. He can blast or gun off at any time. Darkness and wind don’t stop him, either. In fact, last winter he seemed to prefer the wind that’d carry his noise even further. Sounds also carry better at night, and he knows more people are around at those times, too. Anyway, I expect to hear music from him and definitely from the renters this afternoon or this evening. Probably more towards the evening.

I can’t wait for it to cool down. Not just cuz I’m sick of the constant heat, but it’ll also help lessen the bugs. These little black bugs bred from the puddles of water that huge storm left, making it impossible to open windows and take advantage of the almost cool, pleasant evening air, cuz they can get right through the screen and they’re more active at night when it’s cooler. Well, slowly but surely the weather’s cooling down, but we probably won’t need heat till well into October.

It’s funny to think that all apartments in the northeast had their heat turned on yesterday. It’s the law that they go on September 1st and stay on till June 1st. This was always a miserable time for me, Labor Day, as a kid. This is when we’d leave the beach in Old Lyme, CT, and head to our MA house in Longmeadow. Although I preferred the house over the cottage, it was a depressing time cuz school was about to start, and I hated school. Especially grade school. I liked middle school better, and high school even better. The real one, that is.

I was watching shows about airplane disasters and car crashes. I found the test car crashes with dummies to be the scariest, cuz car wrecks are so much more common than plane crashes. Even a lower-impact car crash is very violent.

Last night my mind got a little racy on me. I’ve been getting up a half-hour earlier each day, yet I’m still going to bed at midnight–1:00, cuz I’m all wound up. A 3mg Melatonin alone just won’t knock me out. I need Benadryl, too.

In my mind, I kept going back and forth between, “If only I had just taken their shit! If only I’d been a doormat and let them stomp all over me while I turned the other cheek and at least pretended to ignore them since I couldn’t ignore them for real, cuz then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Then I’d switch to, “If they had just shut up and left me the fuck alone, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Tammy and I once argued over blacks. She asked me, “How many good “N’s” do you know?” and I defended these people. Can you believe it? I defended them! How embarrassing to think I defended them, but anyway, as time went on and I got fucked over by more blacks, I was the one to ask myself, “Yeah, how many do you know?” Not many. Not very many at all. There may be 100 white assholes for every 1 good white, but there are 1000 non-white assholes for every 1 good non-white. I don’t know if it’s something in their culture, their genes, or what, but I’d be kidding myself to say they’re no better or worse than us. 80% of the prison population is black for a reason. I think it’s cuz they’re caught in the past. I think, be it subconsciously or not, they’re using the fact that their ancestors were slaves as an excuse to act out. They somehow feel justified by the way they were treated in the past. When are they ever gonna let go, grow up, and move on?

Later…

Wow, it took till 3:00 in the afternoon to hit 100 degrees. Yes, it’s cooling off.

Tom’s in the shower now after working on the car. He said it was much easier to fix than he thought it’d be. That’s a first. And it didn’t cost anything, either. Just time.

I’ve been seeing this same lizard around a lot. The way I know it’s the same lizard is cuz its tail is missing. I also noticed little pink flowers sprouting up through some of the weeds out there.

For the not-so-cool news. No, Dan and the renters haven’t acted up yet, but the pickup got its stereo fixed just in time for Labor Day. So now I gotta listen to that blast by till it breaks again. I’m hoping that when it breaks again, if it breaks again, they’ll either not bother fixing it, or that they’ll move out (then God can replace me with a new blaster). My guess is that they’d move out before they just threw a $400 stereo away. And again, these people need things like this almost as much as they need oxygen. In fact, I don’t know what the fuck any of these Mexicans are doing out here in the first place? Why would they want to be out here? There’s nothing for them out here that I can see.

I’m not at all looking forward to tomorrow’s bullshit sex session, although he may put it off till the last minute and wait till late Monday. I can’t remember anymore when sex used to bring me pleasure. Instead of bringing me any pleasure, all it brings me is pain and boredom. Even though I only feel it when we screw, I’m sure it’ll hurt when he goes in there. The skin around the opening just never heals. Tell me I’m not sexually hexed, given all the irritation I’ve had and the kind of sex I’ve had with people, and I’ll tell you you’re full of shit. It’s too obvious it’s a curse. No one gets this “unlucky” with sex year after year after year.

Later…

The pickup went by quietly. Broken already? Nah, I doubt it. There were at least half a dozen freeloaders this time around and they probably had the music off so they could hear each other discuss what drugs they were gonna buy/sell. They’re more active again. Yeah, having the stereo fixed will probably prompt them to come and go more often. Gotta get out and spread the holy bass!

Later…

Time goes by. I live my life. I think about the everyday things in life. And then this court shit pops into my head, souring my mood, quickening my heartbeat.

No activity at Dan’s or the renters. Too early, too hot. Although the southwestern heat has never failed to keep outdoor activity down like the northeastern cold.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 2000 When I got up this morning, I was surprised to hear the well running. I thought that only ran from around 6 PM-midnight. I was also surprised to hear gunshots too, as soon as I turned the fan off, although I couldn’t hear the well till I opened the window. I didn’t think hunting season started till November. I was surprised someone would be hunting this early in the year, on a weekday, and as late as 9:30, although they hunt between 6:00 to that time and even later during the winter. You can even hear afternoon gunshots then.

In the trailer, we heard gunshots and dogs. In the house, it’s music and engines. I’m certainly not as stressed out as I was when Labor Day in Phoenix came around, but I’m not totally relaxed, either. People need to be heard. Maybe not as much out here as in Phoenix, but they still need some attention and acknowledgment.

Another thing that surprises me is that I’m going on day 4 of being stuck, although I expect I’ll go some time today, I still woke up a pound lighter yesterday and another pound lighter today, weighing 114. I’ve done nothing to cut my calories lately and have been plugged up, so I’m surprised I’m not close to 120.

Houdini’s turned into a morning rat. He’s waiting for me when I get up, then after I’ve had my coffee, he likes to run around for a while till I send him home with some cheese.

Later…

Here we go with the damn motorcycle. I expect to hear that nearly every day. Personally, I prefer that over Dan’s gunning, cuz the motorcycle’s higher pitched and easier to drown out with fans, but I need something more like music to take out Dan’s gunning. Speaking of lonely boy, I’m surprised I haven’t heard from him yet, although the weekend’s not quite here. It appears he hasn’t been out at all today. Probably sleeping in after the long drive. He could’ve flown back from Indiana, but he strikes me as more of a driver than a flyer. I asked myself how he could afford two places since he’s home more often than not. He only seems to work 20-30 hours a week, but look at what he lives in. He has an old single-wide dump and he’s skinny as a rail, so he probably doesn’t eat much. He probably has an old dive in Indiana too, so all he really has cost-wise is electricity and phone. I’ll bet his places are paid for.

No more motorcycle? Maybe they took it to actually go somewhere, rather than to ride around their property and zip up and down Meadow Green.

I am not looking forward to the 7th, knowing I gotta go in there and make like I’m the only one that did wrong, although again, it’s a debatable and a matter of opinion as to whether or not I did wrong, even though the laws say I did, and basically kiss ass and hope to dodge jail. If ever there’ll be a time I gotta feel totally degraded, humiliated and controlled, it’ll be in court. I’m just so sick of other people telling me what I gotta do and where I gotta go! I’m not a kid anymore! I just want to live my own life, for God’s sake!

Later…

Mr. Motorcycle is still out living it up, zipping up and down its yard and the street, but not by our house. That tells me that yes, I’m definitely, definitely in for a concert from them this weekend. That in itself (the cycling) is a definite I-want-attention thing. A surefire look-at-me, listen-to-me thing. Fortunately, I can’t hear the motorcycle that well in here. If it were just a few feet away – ugh! Not even fans could drown it out and I’d have to have music playing incredibly loud or listen to music through headphones.

Tom’s home now. Got some shiny foil-like stickers in the mail from a back-to-school ad. Seeing that I haven’t heard from the art school about what their courses entail, and their prices, I’d say that yes, they’re definite quacks. If you can’t be up front with someone about your business, then you’re probably shady in some way.

Tom said that the gate is open, but it’s not open the way it’s usually open, suggesting someone may be getting the place ready for Dan. But what about the engine gunning? I asked. He said that’s something someone would do – get engines ready on vehicles that hadn’t been driven in a while. This weekend will tell, but I think he’s there, even though I only heard one vehicle (he has several trucks) being revved for a few seconds. Nonetheless, if he’s there, we’ll hear his music/engines.

I ditched the lesbo story I had begun. Again, it just wore off me. I get in sudden moods to write stories, I begin the story, then the desire wears off.

I told Tom that if he ever decided he wanted a job change, although I can’t see him wanting to go to college any more than I ever did (wow, something we actually have in common!), he’d make a damn good public defender. Or some kind of defense attorney. This is because of how much he likes to defend whoever’s being accused of whatever or at least suggest reasons why they could be innocent, and because of his opposite obsession. He’s hooked on disagreeing and wanting to be different in any way he can. Being a defense attorney would be great for him so he could defend his client and challenge the DA.

[fireofjudgement]

Mismatched (Part 1)

Fandom: All of us are dead

Pairing: Su-hyeok x f!reader, Gwi-nam x f!reader

Summary: You've had many bad dates in your life but the one with Su-hyeok was something you wanted to forget as soon as possible. With your career on the line and your whole life being a string of failures and disappointments, a boring relationship wasn't something you wanted to add to the mix.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: this fic is strictly 18+, minors and empty blogs do not fucking interact or you'll get blocked on sight, pre-zombie apocalypse/office au, swearing, mentions of vomiting, alcohol, cigarettes and weed, mentions of sexual harassment and one night stands, reader parties and drinks a lot, sexual content: grinding, kissing, groping, public sex, protected vaginal sex, sex with a stranger, additional tags to be added in the next chapters

A/N: here it is, after I kept talking about it for so long! I really enjoyed writing this one, so I hope you will like it too. It's going to be my first longer series and I'm not sure how often I'll update it but if you want me to tag you for the next chapters, let me know! We're definitely in for a ride :)

--

Loser from Tinder [7:15 pm]: Hi y/n :) Thank you for a great night, I've had so much fun haha :) Hope to see you again soon!

Loser from Tinder [8:06 pm]: It's Su-hyeok by the way :)

Loser from Tinder [9:42 pm]: I hope you got home safe!

When your phone lit up with a notification from Su-hyeok for the third time that night you almost threw it against a wall. The only thing that stopped you was the ridiculous amount of money you paid for it. You really had to stop purchasing the most expensive products to impress people who didn't even care enough to remember your name.

The problem was that people who did care didn't impress you in the slightest. Like Su-hyeok for example. He was handsome, he was intelligent, he always said please and thank you and he opened the door for you every time. He listened to what you had to say, he was polite to the waitresses and he paid for dinner - the list went on and on. And yet..you found him extremely boring. You couldn't imagine spending the rest of your life with someone who had the personality of a chicken sandwich, no matter how nice he was and how well he treated you and everyone else around him.

You started thinking about your date earlier that evening. You didn't expect much, you never did when it came to your Tinder matches. A nice dinner, company to go see the latest movie, maybe a one night stand. Clearly he expected something else, something more. Something you definitely weren't ready to give yet, especially to a complete stranger. Thinking about it now, maybe you could have been just a little bit nicer to him. Yeah, laughing out loud probably wasn't the best reaction to him giving you flowers as soon as you arrived. It just seemed like too much. You made it very clear during your conversations that you're not looking for anything serious. It baffled you that he didn't seem to realize he crossed a line. And he kept crossing it, over and over again, even after your date was done.

Annoyed by his repeated attempts to contact you, you decided to do what you've always done in situations like these - ghost him. You didn't like confrontations, you didn't care what he would think of you and besides, you had more important things to worry about right now than hurting some random guy you matched with on Tinder while drunk. The restaurant he picked was too pretentious anyway. And why did he have to wear a tie? You couldn't stand how hard he tried, despite not even knowing you.

In an attempt to distract yourself, you refreshed the site. Still no response. You applied for your dream job over a week ago, after months of hesitation and self doubt. Now you started to think you should have listened to the voice in your head telling you to just give up and apply somewhere else. You couldn't help but sigh at the prospect of working for another crappy corporation that didn't give a shit about the employees, in a position you were overqualified and underpaid for, with people who had no other joy in their lives than looking over your shoulder, waiting for you to make even the slightest mistake.

And to think that you were once this energetic, goal oriented person who truly believed she'd get wherever she wants, as long as she works hard and treats people with kindness. Bullshit. A few years of unpaid internships and sexual harassment at your work place later, you realised hard work and kindness will only pay off if you match them with big tits and a sheepish smile. Who cares about passion, knowledge and experience when the most common corporate currency nowadays were blowjobs.

Why was life so difficult, so unfair? You worked so hard, always tried your best and so far it's gotten you nowhere. Unable to stop the tears that started running down your cheeks, you allowed yourself to dwell in your sadness, even if just for a moment. Crying wasn't a sign of weakness, you learned to accept that, even though it was difficult and the complete opposite of what your parents forced you to believe your entire life. But you were already sad enough, you should probably stop thinking about them. It's never done you any good.

You looked at your phone, it was 10:30 pm. Not too late to go out, have some fun. Maybe have a drink or two. Forget about your date, forget about your failed job application and about your parents. Forget about everything that was making you feel miserable, making you feel like you were a failure. And so, with newfound energy you got up and started to get ready. You didn't know where you'll go or what you'll do but one thing you knew for sure, the last thing you needed at the moment was staying home, alone with your thoughts and insecurities. Tonight you won't let them consume you. You'll try at least.

After putting on your favorite outfit and doing your hair, you left your apartment in search of something, anything that would help distract you but everything looked the exact same - every bar, every club, every restaurant. Every establishment played the same music. All the guests looked the same. Every man that tried approaching you was wearing similar clothes, talked in a similar way, used the same corny pickup lines. No, you did not believe in love at first sight, no he didn't have to approach you again. Yes, you did have a name and no, it wasn't "mine". You most certainly didn't fall from heaven recently.

You were tired. Maybe you should have stayed at home afterall. At least you could be yourself there. No acting, no pretending to be someone else to please people, make them like you. Why did it even matter if they liked you anyway? Why did you put in so much effort for people who didn't care? Maybe that's why you hated Su-hyeok so much. You two weren't that different. Unfortunately for him, he reminded you of everything you hated about yourself.

Fuck, you were still thinking about him. Why? It was time to move on but why was it so difficult this time? It's not like you had a good time with him, you didn't remember anything he told you about himself. Clearly, you needed more alcohol. Having visited most of the establishments you knew in the city, you were running out of options. Luckily a quick Google search provided you with a new address, a place you haven't been to before. Maybe that's what you needed. 

However, after you finally got there, you had to admit that it looked just like all the other places. Maybe even worse, with all the spilled alcohol and trashy music, the smell of weed, sweat and sex attacking your senses before you even entered.

Hesitant at first, you decided to go in, maybe it would look better on the inside. It didn't. It looked exactly like you pictured it. At least nobody there knew you, nobody seemed to care about you or the fact that your first drink quickly turned into two, then three..until you stopped caring too. You finally felt better, no negative thoughts clouding your mind. You felt free. Deep inside you knew those feelings were temporary, incredibly fragile but you chose to ignore that fact. It got easier with each drop of alcohol entering your system.

Before you knew it, you found your way to the dance floor, your body moving along to the music, touching and grinding against the people around you. You didn't care anymore if they all looked the same, if anything it will make it easier to forget them the next morning. You knew you'd want to forget just how many lips you allowed to touch yours, how many hands explored your body that night, how many sweet nothings were whispered in your ear. 

Just when you finally cleared your mind from all the trivial bullshit, finally lost yourself in the music, you found  something that might have been worth remembering. Or someone. You didn't know what it was about him but he looked different than all the other men you've met that night. Or any other night. Maybe it was the alcohol talking but you could feel your whole body warm up just from the way he looked at you. Like a predator waiting on his prey. And you fell right into his trap, without him even making a move. His sole presence made you want to be closer to him, touch him, let him take over control.

You didn't remember walking over to him nor did you remember what he said to you, you definitely didn't remember how the two of you ended up in the club's bathroom together but you were happy you did. Not only did he look better than other guys, he tasted so much better too and he was a good kisser. So much so that you couldn't wait for his lips to explore your whole body, your head tilting automatically, to give him better access to your neck and shoulders. Nobody you've seen that night, or the night before, could compare to him and you didn't even know his fucking name. It wasn't necessary though, his touch and kisses the best introduction, your bodies expressing more than any words could. 

Even with all of the alcohol in your system, you still made sure he was wearing a condom. There was no stopping you now, your clothes quickly getting pushed aside, his dick sliding into you and stretching you out before you could even blink. Your whimpers and moans muffled by his kisses, his lips never leaving yours as he pounded into you, your back slammed against the wall over and over again. Neither of you cared if someone would see or hear you, your pleasure was too overwhelming. 

It wasn't long before you felt yourself getting close to an orgasm, his dick hitting all the right spots inside you. You clenched around him, your legs wrapped around his waist desperately trying to make him go even deeper. You felt him smirk against your lips, it wasn't hard to notice just how needy and fucked out you were already. With a few more deep thrusts you were thrown over the edge, wave after wave of pleasure hitting your whole body. He came not long after, his lips still connected to yours, your walls fluttering around him making it hard to last any longer. 

After you both calmed down, an awkward silence fell between you. It wasn't your first quickie in a public restroom, obviously, but you couldn't help but feel like this time was different, you weren't sure why. For some reason you didn't want to leave a bad impression on him. Luckily, before you could say or do anything to ruin the moment, he quickly straightened his clothes before flashing you another smirk and leaving the now quiet place without a word.

If your body wasn't so sore, your thighs still covered in your arousal, you'd think nothing ever happened. That all of this was some sort of dream. When you finally left the bathroom, he was gone, no sign of him ever being there, ever speaking to you. Well, to be quite honest, you didn't talk too much, if at all. Downing one last drink, you decided you had enough for the night. It was time to go home and once again forget about everything that happened. 

You never remembered the way home or entering your apartment, or undressing and getting into bed. Each time you woke up past noon, smelling of sweat, sex and cigarettes, a bad taste in your mouth. Sometimes you'd throw up, sometimes you'd cry, remembering all the shit you've done the previous night. But today you woke up way too early, with a massive headache, tired and confused. What the fuck was that noise and why didn't it stop? 

It took you way too long to realise that it was your phone ringing. For some reason you put it right next to your bed. Too annoyed to ignore the call much longer, you looked at the screen. An unknown number. Who the fuck was trying to reach you at 8 am on a Wednesday? You finally picked up, ready to tell whoever was bothering you, to kindly fuck off, when you heard a soft female voice on the other end.

"Good morning, is this l/n, y/n?"

"Uhh..yeah?" You slurred, still unsure who the lady was and what she wanted from you. 

"Great! I'm calling regarding the application you sent to our company last week, do you have a moment to talk to one of our recruiters? They'd explain all the details about the position. If you're still interested, of course."

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 6

Part 1 Here

Next part Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate, Shinso/Denki side relationship, Bakugou is a dumbass but so is y/n

Where we left off-

Before Bakugou could reply, the jeweler came back into the room and handed Denki a piece of paper.

“All right sir, here is your receipt! Your ring should be ready in three days.”

“Thanks.” Denki shoved the receipt into his pocket, quickly making his way to the door. “See you around Bakubro. Don't want to be late for my shift.” The door closed behind him with a bang.

Bakugou wasn’t annoyed though. Now he could pick out the perfect ring for Y/N and not worry about Kaminari being nearby. Everyone knows Kami can’t keep a secret to save his life.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep all of this a secret.” Denki moaned into his hands. He was sitting with his head buried in his arms. Y/N reached across the table and gently petted his hair.

“I know what you mean, but I don’t think either of us are in a good position to start telling people.”

Y/n and Denki sat in a secluded corner of a dimly lit cafe. Both of them had this time free and both of them definitely needed to talk. They stood a lot less chance of anyone asking questions if they were just two friends getting lunch instead of them privately going to each other’s apartments.

Denki looked up, giving Y/N a wide eyed expression. “I know, but I wasn’t expecting Bakugou to show up when I was dropping off that abomination of a ring! I just was lucky the jeweler had already taken it to the back. You were right by the way, that thing is absolutely horrendous. Like, was the designer blind?”

Y/N snorted. “From what I’ve heard, great great grandpappy had a lot more money than brains and wanted to impress his omega by shoving as many stones onto a ring as possible.”

“No kidding. I think it can be seen from space.”

“Very likely.” Y/N chuckled before slumping back into her seat with a sigh. “Though I might have an idea about what Bakugou was doing there.”

“Wait, seriously?”

Y/N nodded with a sigh. “Yeah. When I got back he invited me to the summer festival. I’d forgotten about it.”

“Ah shit, yeah. Isn’t that your guys' anniversary?”

“Yep.” Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Of course he had to pick this time to actually celebrate. We haven’t gone or done anything… God, I think since he became a hero.”

“So you think he was getting a gift.” Denki sat back as the server came, placing your orders in front of each of you. You both murmured your thank yous and waited until the server was out of earshot before resuming your conversation.

“Yeah, he had to have been. Makes me feel terrible, but there wasn’t a good time to… Well…”

Y/n gestured between herself and Denki.

“Tell him that you’ve been betrothed to an omega of much superior looks, breeding, and manners?”

You gave Denki a little kick under the table as he cackled. He grinned cheekily as he poked at his food. “Sorry. Humor is my coping mechanism. I get it though. Timing sucks all the way around.”

You nodded, sighing and taking a bite of your own food. “Can’t say anything during his heat. Then his schedule was swamped, and I had to sort things out with you. Then bam, anniversary that for some reason he decided to remember this year.”

Denki snorted, popping a bite into his mouth. “That’s about the long and the short of it. And we haven’t even begun to figure out how to tell everyone we’ve not only accepted arranged betrothals, but that we’re engaged to each other.”

“I don’t know, I was kind of hoping we could just move to Tahiti and never speak to our former friend groups ever again?”

“A valid possibility. But that means we’d have to learn French and maybe Tahitian. You know I only passed English because Hitoshi and his dad coached me.”

“Fair point.” You sighed heavily. “But I’m really not looking forward to these conversations.”

“They have to happen though. You might have some anonymity to hide behind, but I’d rather my friends not find out about our engagement when they see an article about Chargebolt getting married.”

“Really?” You smirked slightly. “Then you’re going to tell everyone at your agency, hmm?”

Denki kicked you under the table. “Shut up!”

You poked at your food again as the smile fell from your lips. “So… Did you get a chance to think about what I sent you?”

Kaminari nodded. “Yeah. And I hate to say it, but I think you’re right.”

“I thought about it a lot. I hate to leave the area, but it would be too awkward to stay here after everything.”

A few days ago you had sent Denki an email with a list of places that had job openings that would suit both of you. You both loved where you lived, but after everything, how could you stay? There’s no way the two of you could continue to keep living in the same apartment building as Bakugou. That would be cruel. Cruel to whom you didn’t quite want to think about. You spoke up again.

“Any place catch your eye?”

Kaminari nodded. “I was kind of thinking Okinawa. I have a few connections there. Decent distance from here and from our parents. And that would probably be the easiest transition.”

“Works for me.” You said, as if it wasn’t ripping your heart out to do this. It hurt. But it had to happen. In the end, you had to believe this was what was best for everyone. It might take some time, but this was it. This was what would make everyone happy in the long run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shinsou was worried. Denki had been acting odd. And that’s saying something. The blond omega was usually loud and bubbly, the life of the agency. At least once a week, he invited Shinsou out for drinks, meals, clubs, karaoke, or some other nonsense. But ever since he’d gotten back from his three day leave, Kaminari had been acting strange. When he thought no one was looking, he was quiet. Withdrawn. Like he was puzzling out the toughest problem of his life.

Denki having a problem? Pretty typical. Denki having a problem and not talking to Shinsou about it? Pretty unusual. The blond had always come to the purple haired alpha with even the simplest of problems. Apartment searches, furniture assembly, what support items would suit his quirk best, even things like what to get from Starbucks. And even though he might groan and roll his eyes, secretly Hitoshi loved every second of it. When he had helped by digging through websites, cobbling together a rickety shelf, or reminding Denki that he always got the most cloyingly sweet items on the menu; Hitoshi got to pretend that he was Denki’s alpha.

Shinsou wasn’t sure exactly when he had fallen in love with Denki. Probably had been since high school at least. His dad had warned him against loud blonds while his father had laughed. But he couldn’t help it. Kaminari had been one of the first people to enthusiastically believe in him. Had always sought him out and wormed his way into Shinsou’s life and heart. And now Shinsou couldn’t understand it, but Denki was pulling away. Even as he watched the blond who was typing up a report on his computer, it somehow felt like Kaminari was slipping right through his fingers.

Shinsou cleared his throat. Kaminari glanced up. “Yeah man? What’s up?”

“You doing okay, Denks? You’ve seemed a little out of it.”

Denki met his eyes, startled, then quickly glanced away. “Yeah. Yep! Totally fine.”

“Denki. I know you.”

Kaminari sighed and slumped on his desk. “Just some life stuff. Family stuff. Friend stuff.”

Shinsou frowned, walking over to place a hand on Denki’s shoulder. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Denki snorted and laughed quietly. Shinsou furrowed his brows.

“Yeah” Denki sighed. “I know. But half of it isn’t really my stuff to tell and the other half isn’t exactly worth talking about.”

“You sure? We could go grab one of your obnoxiously sweet coffees after work. Go to mine or yours, watch an old crappy horror.”

“Tempting. Thanks man. I would, really, but I got some stuff I have to do after work. Some other time maybe.”

Shinsou frowned. It was rare for the omega to turn down an invitation for a movie night. Hell, it was rare for Denki to turn down an invitation, end stop. It made him even more worried about his omega… friend. His omega friend. His friend who just so happens to be an omega. Hitoshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really didn’t want to ruin the best friendship he had. But he couldn’t keep this up much longer. His alpha had decided on the electric blond long ago, and the omega’s unusual behavior and unhappy scent was driving him wild with the need to protect. He really needed to pull himself together and confess soon.

“Well, whenever you’re free then,” Shinsou said, reluctantly letting his hand fall from Denki’s shoulder. “You know my number.”

Denki nodded and looked up, giving him half a smile. “I do. Thanks Shinsou.”

Shinsou walked back to his desk, his mind made up. He needed to tell his omega how he felt, and soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N twisted and turned, looking at herself in the mirror. It had been a very long time since she’d worn a yukata. It didn’t feel right to dress up like this. But wearing anything else also felt wrong. Everything about this date felt wrong. Like this was the kind of she she did in another life. And now here she was, going on a date with the man she loved. Who she’d always love. And who she’d already decided she was going to let go.

Y/N snorted and fussed with her hair a bit. Maybe she should have just refused this date. Claimed to be sick or something. But that felt wrong too. So, she just had to get through tonight. After all, what’s one more night of pretending everything is fine? Hopefully this could be a good memory from a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be. After tonight, she’d wait a couple days and then talk to Bakugou and let him go like he clearly wanted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki was going to throw up.

He was going to throw up, right here, all over himself and all over shitty hair, too. His red headed friend was giving him a pep talk as he helped Bakugou into his jinbei. Not that Bakugou needed the help. Or the pep talk. It just was easier to let the squad come over when they had found out about his date. It’s not like he wanted them there or anything. Once Kiri, Mina, and Sero realized he was going to use this date to ask Y/N to be his mate, they had insisted on helping him get ready.

None of them knew about the little velvet box in his pocket and that his plans went further than just asking Y/N to be his mate. Bakugou bit his lip to keep from frowning as he looked over his friends, a certain loud blond conspicuously missing. You wouldn’t hear Katsuki admit it out loud, but he really wished Denki could have been here. He loved the others, and they were great in their own ways. But Denki was his pack’s other omega. He got it in a way that the others didn’t. After tonight, he’d have to make sure to catch Pikachu up on all the news. Hell, maybe he could help his fellow blond finally talk to that purple haired idiot he’d been mooning over for years. Everyone in the pack knew Denki’s family had been harping at him to settle down for quite a while.

Bakugou looked up in time to see Mina coming at him with the hair grease. He threw up his hands.

“Fuck no! Keep that shit away from me!”

“You’ve got to do something about that pile of straw you call a haircut. Besides, Wouldn’t it be nostalgic? Weren’t you interning for Best Jeanist again when you asked Y/N out the first time?”

“Yes, and I’d rather shave myself bald than ever have my hair like that again!”

Mina sighed. “Fine. We’ll do something else. But if I can’t slick it back, you will be wearing eyeliner!”

“IN YOUR DREAMS, PINKY!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You waited outside the entrance to the festival. It was strangely soothing to watch the people flow by, like you were a rock overlooking a stream. There were groups of friends, couples both young and old, families where the laughing children ran ahead of their parents eager to get inside. You gave a small smile at the last. Maybe that could be you someday, a parent getting to see a festival through the eyes of a child again. Though the mental picture was hazier than it used to be. The children you half imagined just blurs of colorful yukatas, instead of loud and stubborn blond haired brats with their father’s eyes and attitude. You huffed a quiet laugh to yourself as a thought occurred to you. If you and Kaminari actually went through with this plan, decent chance the kids would still be blond. The thought hurt a little.

“Y/N!”

You looked up and had the breath knocked out of your lungs.

Katsuki was beautiful. You knew it. Thought it often, even. But tonight he practically glowed. His hair had been tamed into a softer look than usual. The jinbei he wore was the perfect compliment to his skintone. Was that… Yes. Dark eyeliner made his crimson eyes pop. Your heart ached. You’d always love this man. No matter how it tore you apart, he’d always own part of your heart and soul. You smiled weakly and raised your hand in greeting.

“Hey. You look good.”

“Thanks.” Bakugou scratched the back of his head. “Mina got ahold of me.”

“That explains it then.”

“Hey!” Katsuki gently elbowed you in the side before taking his place next to you. “You saying I can’t dress up on my own?”

“Yes.”

“Y/N!” You dodged out of the way as he swatted at you, laughing. Yes. This could be it. One last good night.

“Shall we go in?” You asked, holding out your hand.

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Katsuki asked as he walked past you, ignoring your hand.

You gave a quiet smile as you followed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Katsuki picked at his food, none of it making it to his mouth. He was going to be sick. He was going to be sick right here and some paparazzi was going to see and take a picture and the big headline tomorrow was going to be “A Puke Worthy Proposal.” He was trying his best to keep up the illusion that everything was fine and normal, but it was rough. It had been a long time since he’d taken his alpha on even a normal date. And this wasn’t any normal date. It didn’t help that things were feeling forced and awkward.

He wanted to hold your hand, but his own hands were sweating buckets. He tried to keep up casual conversation, but that was getting harder and harder as the night wore on. Every sentence he wanted to just blurt it out and get it over with. It was impossible to keep talking about what vendors he recognized when all he wanted to say was “I love you and I’ll always love you and I want you by my side until the sun stops shining.”

It didn’t help that things felt awkward. Almost nothing was feeling easy or natural. It really had been far too long since the two of you had gone on any sort of date. He frowned as he thought about it. It had been over a year, at least. Longer, even. Well, he was going to have to fix that. He’d be able to use some of that pro hero paycheck and spoil you like you deserved. His Y/N. His mate. And soon, his wife.

Bakugou stared at nothing, his eyes going unfocus as he started daydreaming about how spectacular your wedding would be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a disaster. You glanced over to where Bakugou stood picking at his food, looking bored. You’d been trying to keep up the conversation, but for the past several minutes you’d only gotten hums or grunts in response to anything you said.

“It’s amazing how they got all those pro heroes to dance nude as one of the main attractions this year.”

Katsuki grunted.

Yeah, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

You sighed, looking down at your own untouched food. You never should have agreed to come. At least this date was proving it to you. This had to end. The two of you didn’t know how to be a couple anymore. It was even clearer that Katsuki wasn’t even interested in trying. You had no idea why he wanted to have this date in the first place. Some bizarre sense of obligation? Maybe his heat had shaken him up enough that his omega needed the sense of normalcy? This issue was this wasn’t normal for the two of you anymore. It hadn’t been for a very long time. You sighed, glancing around for a trash can to oust you untouched dango.

A loud pop caused you to look up. The fireworks were about to start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bakugou looked up at the sound of the first firework.

“Wanna head to the pier?”

You nodded quietly, following him as he led the way. He was sweating so much now that if he set himself off he’d take out half the city.

This was it. It was almost time. The two of you were going to watch the fireworks from the out of the way pier like you had all those years ago. It was at the end of that fireworks show the two of you had had your first kiss. And this time… Well this time at the end of the show he was going to propose and you were going to say yes, and it was going to be perfect.

That is if he didn’t barf before you two got there.

“Hurry up,” he grunted as he picked up the pace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried not to flinch at Bakugou’s harsh tone. He clearly wanted to get this night over with even more than you did. You tried not to let it hurt.

The pier was empty as it always was. The lack of lighting keeping others away. The first time you had discovered it, it had felt hidden and intimate. Now it felt desolate. Lonely.

You walked up to the railing and stared at the sky. The fireworks didn’t feel magical anymore either. Your fingers wrapped around the railing as you glanced to the side. Bakugou wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the reflections of flashes in the dark swirling water below.

You couldn’t do this anymore.

No more.

The fireworks illuminated you as your grip on the railing tightened until your knuckles turned white.

“Katsuki?”

“”What?” He asked roughly, barely glancing your way.

“Let’s break up.”

And that was Part 6, my darlings! Hope you're enjoying the drama, because there's more angst on the way! You can scream at me about the cliffhanger in replies, reblogs, tags or asks. :P

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[wayward-dreamer]

A Man of Action

Square/s Filled: Intercrural Sex (Kink Bingo), Director!Jensen (AU Bingo)

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Director!Jensen x Female!Actor!Reader

Word count: 6,516

Rating: Explicit - 18+!

Summary: While directing his episode of Supernatural, Jensen and Y/N, the female guest star of the week, can’t hide their attraction for each other any longer. A little fun in his trailer is nearly over before it starts, but they find ways to keep each other satisfied.

Created for @spnkinkbingo​, @spnaubingo​

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty talk, Smut: Oral Sex (Male and Female receiving), Intercrural sex, ‘Sir’ kink, Implied protected sex in the future.

A/N: My first Jensen one-shot! *cue nervous laughter*... A HUGE thank you to my sister from another mister, my twin @downanddirtydean​ for being beta on this one! I love her to bits and she really helped me get over my lack of confidence in this one-shot. I hope you guys like it! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @talesmaniac89​

Y/N lightly bopped her head along to the slow melody playing from her earphones, as she flicked the page of the book she was reading. Crossing one leg over the other, she steadied the folding tall chair she was sitting on. Glancing up from her book, she smiled as she looked around at the set, waiting for the signal that they were ready to resume.

Y/N watched the crew, hard at work as they fixed lighting, checked the sound and redressed parts of the bunker. Her eyes scanned over the many people who worked tirelessly to make this show, feeling grateful to be even a small part of it herself.

This was her second time on the Supernatural set. She had guest starred in an episode last season, with Kim Rhodes who played Sheriff Jody Mills. Kim had quickly become a great friend, showing the ropes of the set, as did everyone else. She laughed as she remembered messing up her first scene with the stars of the show, Jared and Jensen, and how they quickly reassured her that she didn’t do anything for them to be mad at. They loved to have a laugh as much as the next person and were more often than not the ones who did most of the messing up of takes on purpose.

The first time was quite civil, but considering this was her second episode, Y/N was no longer off limits from the guys’ antics. Jared in particular was a giant goofball, doing everything perfectly on his coverage, and then purposely being bad on hers. Jensen was a little subdued this time around, as he was the director for this episode, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t had any fun.

There was an attraction between them. She felt it from the moment she laid eyes on him when she walked onto the set the year before. He was incredibly kind and absolutely hilarious, and not to mention insanely good-looking. They had talked and laughed about so many things in those 8 days, and she felt herself beginning to feel things for him she probably shouldn’t have. This time around, he may have been directing, but they still talked a lot. He showed her different parts of the stages during lunch breaks, walked her to lunch every day for the last 7 days, and made her feel so welcomed.

Y/N sensed that maybe the attraction wasn’t one sided as she often caught him looking at her, but she couldn’t be too sure and didn’t want to make a fool of herself in case she was wrong in her assumptions.

Y/N smiled as Frida, one of Supernatural’s assistant make-up artists, approached her. Her make-up bag, as well Jensen and Jared’s, were all hanging off of her as she returned a genuine smile to Y/N. She took out her earphones and closed her book, shifting in her chair to face Frida properly.

“Touch up time, already?” she asked, pushing her hair back slightly.

“Yep, we’ll be good to go in about 5,” Frida replied, taking out a brush and running it lightly through some powder. She applied it to Y/N’s face and then worked a little on the touching up the eye make-up. “Looking forward to it?” she added with a laugh.

Y/N cringed, lightly shaking her head. “Dear god, give me strength to get through it.”

“Get through what?” she heard a familiar voice ask.

Y/N’s eyes flicked up to look at Jared as she sat down in his chair, next to her. “To get through your unrelenting need to ruin my coverage.”

Jared laughed, clapping his hands. “It’s just too easy.”

“I know how Misha feels now,” Y/N laughed, closing her eyes as Frida worked on her eyelids.

Frida laughed along with her, nodding. “And Alex too.”

Trish, the head make-up artist, came up behind Frida and took Jared’s bag, getting him ready for the next scene.

“Pretty sure he’s still scarred from that time everyone was out to get him to crack, even Misha,” Trish added, chuckling.

“We’re up and running in 2!” they heard one of the assistant directors call out.

Frida finished up with Y/N as Trish finished touching up Jared’s make-up, allowing Y/N to get up and walk over to the war room set. She walked past crew members and smiled at them, a quick ‘hey’ to each of them as she did. She loved this set more than any other she had worked on. It was only her second time here, but it felt like home, with everyone always welcoming her back with open arms. She didn’t think she would be back a second time, but she was incredibly glad that she was. She loved her character, Lyla, so much and she was over the moon to explore her again.

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach erupt as she spied Jensen, in a deep conversation with Bob Singer as they looked over some of the dailies on the screens in front of them. He looked amazing, dressed as Dean in his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the white and black flannel draped over a chair close by. He was frowning but nodding along as Bob explained something to him, his scowl making him look even hotter if that was possible.

Suddenly, Jensen turned and walked towards her, his frown immediately morphing into a genuine smile as he approached her. She felt her heartbeat pick up, but she tried to calm herself down as she turned to face him.

“Okay, so we’re getting your coverage first, then Jared’s. I know he’s meant to go first, but making him wait tends to make him cooperate,” Jensen informed her, laughing lightly.

“Going easy on me, huh?” she joked, smiling up at him.

“A little, but you’ve handled it pretty well so far,” Jensen said, folding his arms across his chest. That gesture had killed her every time he did in the last several days, and this time was no different.

“Meh,” she shrugged, laughing. “I can throw it back at him if and when I need to.”

Jensen gave her nod, smiling with an approving look. “I won’t even try to stop you.”

She laughed as she shook her head, Jensen’s relaxed laughter joining hers.

She cleared her throat as she calmed herself, looking up at him. “Do I look okay, Mr. Director, sir?”

Jensen looked into her eyes, finding himself getting lost in Y/N’s beautiful features. He certainly wasn’t good at hiding his feelings for her, not the first time he met her and definitely not now. She was stunning, but she was also open and generous, kind and a total badass. He really wanted to ask her out and see where things went between them, but considering they were in their last day of filming, and she was more than likely leaving the next day, he knew he had missed his chance.

“You look great,” he told her, honestly and hoping she’d see how he meant it as more than just a director approving of her look for the episode.

Things moved pretty quickly from there, as Jensen left to sit behind the screens at video village, the cameras turned on and framed Y/N in the shot with the rest of the war room behind her, Jared stood to the side making sure to hit the mark and be in her right eye line. Everyone buzzed around them before José came in with the tail slate and called the take.

“Action!” they heard Jensen call out.

Y/N instantly fell into character, looking at Jared as ‘Sam’ and smiling. “How does Dean feel about this?”

Jared didn’t move considering the camera wasn’t on him, but he delivered the next line. “It took him a while to get used to the idea of Jack, but he got there eventually.”

Y/N nodded, staying in character. “You know what you’re doing, teaching Jack the ropes of this life… that’s amazing.”

Jared scoffed. “It didn’t exactly work though.”

“He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back to the bunker.” She finished the line but frowned, thinking it over. “Wait, sorry. Is it “come back to the bunker” or something else?”

One of the crew members quickly looked over the sides, and then shook their head. “It’s ‘come back home.’”

“Fuck, okay,” she groaned, annoyed with herself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, Y/N. Just take it from the same line,” Jensen reassured her, and she took in the patience in his voice. He was so damn good at this and she felt incredibly safe with him as a director and as an actor. She recalled how many times someone was awful to her just for messing up slightly, and how crappy she felt afterwards. She had never felt that on the Supernatural set, and she was so thankful for that.

“Let’s keep rolling,” Jensen informed everyone. “Y/N, when you’re ready.”

She nodded. Waiting a few seconds, she then continued. “He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back home.”

“It’s ‘to the bunker’,” Jared said, trying to be serious as he tried to mess her up.

“You’re an ass,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Jared laughed that mad laugh she had actually come to love very quickly, and she joined in. They descended into a fit of giggles, knowing full well it wasn’t that funny, but it somehow got to them anyway.

Jensen watched the screen in front of him, his eyes never leaving Y/N. Her laugh was infectious, and she looked even more beautiful when she did, making his heartbeat wildly in his chest. Knowing he had to break up the laugh fest, regretfully, he stood up from his chair.

“Alright, we’re good on Y/N’s coverage. Let’s move on and then we can break for lunch,” he announced.

The bell sounded as every present crew member hurried around the set, getting set up to shoot Jared’s coverage.

Y/N looked up and saw Jensen glance over at her. He smiled that smile she found herself wanting to see every second of every day, making her feel lightheaded and the butterflies flutter in her stomach again. He truly was a sight to behold and she only hoped that something more came of her time on Supernatural.

They managed to get through Jared’s coverage pretty quickly, Y/N doing off-camera dialogue for him as he had done for her. The bell sounded again, and Jensen called lunch. Everyone walked towards craft services, chatting about different parts of their lives. Jensen was talking with Bob, but after quickly making some decisions, he moved away and walked up to Y/N.

She looked up at Jensen as she felt him next to her, smiling brightly. They walked side by side through the lot, past all the pick-up trucks, SUVs and large trailers that housed the different departments of production. For the last 7 days, this had been a regular occurrence, him walking her to the lunch tent. On the 8th and final day of filming, it was no exception. She could feel the attraction between them, and a part of her hoped that he might ask her out, but she would even settle for a casual hook-up at that point.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, as he suddenly stopped short while looking down at his phone. “My phone’s about to die. Mind if we make a quick detour to my trailer so I can charge it up?”

“Lead the way,” she said, smiling as she gestured for him to go ahead. She followed him to his trailer, stepping in behind him.

As he looked around for a charger, she turned to every angle of the trailer, taking it in. It was big and spacious, with a large flat screen and comfortable couch, a bed at the other end and a nice kitchenette, but that was it. There was nothing outlandish and unnecessary in there.

“Nice to know there’s no aquarium in here,” she laughed, folding her arms.

Jensen scoffed a laugh as he shook his head. “Yeah, they really went overboard with that one.”

Finding a charger, he plugged it in and put his phone on charge. He turned to her, arms out as he brought attention to the trailer.

“So, this is it,” he said, his hands coming down and straight into his pockets. “As glamorous as you pictured, right?”

“Oh, much more than I was expecting,” she said, pretending to be serious. They looked at each other and laughed, as she shook her head. “I like it. It certainly doesn’t scream lead of a TV show slash on and off director.”

“What does it scream then?” he asked, looking down at her as she moved closer to him.

“Just a regular guy underneath all that star power,” she replied, her hand coming up and softly grazing his covered bicep.

She looked at him, her eyes never leaving his. It was clear to both of them that there was something between them. The minute she stepped onto set earlier than week, Jensen knew he was done for.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, his tongue darting out and licking at his lips, nervously. That little gesture had nearly sent her to her knees so many times that week, and in that moment, she felt like she would if he did it again.

“Shoot,” she told him.

His hand came up and took hers, his fingers intertwining with her delicate ones. “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m leaving at noon tomorrow,” she said, moving closer to him and taking in the smell of his cologne.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his head dropping forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m not fucking insane, and you feel something for me too.”

“You’re not,” she whispered in return, shaking her head against his. “The only thing fucking insane is that we didn’t do anything the minute we met.”

That was the only in Jensen needed. His hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks and pulled her face up, his lips pressing into hers in a rough but sensual kiss. Her hands roamed his chest, fisting his black t-shirt in her hands, trying to bring him in closer. They pulled away for a brief moment, breathing into each other heavily as they tried to catch their breath. They quickly stripped out of the clothes they were wearing, careful not to tug harshly as they were the costumes they’d have to put back on. Cupping her face again, he smirked as he moved them over to the couch.

“On your knees,” he instructed.

She huffed a laugh as she grinned. “Yes, sir.”

He quickly unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, sitting back on the couch as she moved down to her knees in front of him. She tugged at his boxers and pulled them down, his hard cock springing free. She gasped as she smiled, her hand slowly wrapping around the shaft.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” he demanded, his hand coming up to her hair and wrapping into it, tugging her closer.

She hummed as she moved closer, her tongue licking a stripe up his shaft. “You gonna direct me, sir?”

He groaned as he bit his lip, smirking. “Yeah, and if it’s anything like it is on set, I know you’ll hit your mark.”

She sucked at the tip of his cock, her tongue circling the head before she moved down, taking his length into her mouth. She bobbed her head, her spit coating his cock as she built up a rhythm.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Your mouth’s so fucking perfect, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, taking him deeper into her mouth.

“Hold still, darlin’,” he muttered in his sudden Texas drawl, his hand gathering her hair into his palm, the other cupping her face.

She stilled her movement, as he began thrusting up into her mouth at a fast pace. His cock hit the back of her throat, causing her to moan each time it did.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, looking down at her. “Look so good with my cock between your lips.”

Her saliva covered his cock, the glugging sound loud as he slipped in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening from the pressure of his hard cock against the back of her throat. His hand pressed down on her head, making her take his length into her mouth all the way to the base, holding her in place. She moaned to avoid gagging, thankful she didn’t have a gag reflex. He pulled her up, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop, a harsh breath leaving her lips as air came back into her lungs.

“Can’t wait to fuck you,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her lips to hers.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, throwing her down on it. She squealed as she bounced on the mattress, a naughty smile on her face as she looked up at him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” she muttered, as her eyes raked over his body.

“I should be saying that about you,” he smirked, getting onto the bed and holding himself up above her.

He leaned down, kissing her passionately, before trailing down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts. His flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” she moaned, as his felt his other hand move down her body.

He smirked as he sucked her nipple, feeling the slick between her legs. He released the nub and looked down at her, his fingers running through her folds and finding her clit. She moaned loudly, forgetting where she was for a moment, as she felt his fingers circle the bundle of nerves.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, as he looked down into her eyes. “Can’t let the crew hear us.”

“Jensen… fuck me,” she whimpered, as she cupped his face.

Taking one of her hands off her face, he pinned it to the bed above her head. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes, now dark with arousal.

“Say it properly and I will,” he ordered, his voice gravelly and demanding.

She gulped but smiled tentatively. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Good,” he said, before he leaned down and kissed her lips, once then twice.

They continued their passionate embrace, Y/N’s arms wrapping around Jensen’s neck as one of her hands combed into his short hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips moved against each other’s roughly and sensually, as they became desperate to feel more of each other. He held his cock and ran it along her folds, her wetness slicking his shaft and a clear sign that she was more than ready for him. However, his movements suddenly stopped as an unfair realization came to him.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his lips away from hers. He looked down at her as an annoyed expression graced his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried she had done something wrong.

“I just remembered… I don’t have any condoms,” he replied, grimacing as he held himself up above her. “I don’t do this… well, ever. So, I don’t have anything.”

Her frown matched his. “I’m not on the pill right now, either.”

He nodded, trying to smile reassuringly and hide his disappointment. She knew that he was though, because she was too. She was desperate to feel him against her and inside her.

“I guess we better get to lunch, then,” she muttered softly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her face was close to his, causing her to lean over and kiss his plump lips, softly.

“I just want to feel you,” he whispered against her lips, leaning in.

“Me too,” she said, in an equally hushed tone before his lips claimed hers again.

An idea suddenly came to him and he just hoped that she would be okay with it.

“Trust me?” he asked, softly as he looked into her eyes.

She smiled up at him, nodding slowly. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked as he helped her lie down on the bed again, bringing her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders. He shifted back until he was standing, her behind now on the edge of the bed.

Jensen smirked as his eyes darkened, taking hold of his cock and slapping it over her mound a few times. He moved Y/N’s thighs closer together, until they met around his cock. Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding his cock between her thighs in a gentle and sensual pace. She moaned softly, the new sensation of feeling his shaft against the skin of her inner thighs awakening something within her. He groaned, biting his lip at this new found arousal as he continued to move between her legs.

“How do I feel, sweetheart?” he asked, looking down at her.

“So good,” she moaned, looking at him. His ‘sweetheart’ gave her Dean vibes, which was definitely something she was adding to her list of kinks.

He picked up speed, his thrusts between her legs now a moderate pace. He gripped her thighs tight in his hands, which would no doubt leave bruises that she would get to admire later.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenching as he felt the pressure around his cock. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Shit,” she hissed. A small laugh left her mouth as she shook her head. “If this is anything to go by, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as he nodded. “Can’t wait to fuck you either, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock, taking me so well.”

“Jensen,” she moaned softly. She remembered to keep quiet in case of wandering ears of crew members.

His hand came up and back down on her thigh, smacking her hard enough to make her yelp and get her attention. He looked at her with his darkened eyes, stern and somewhat frightening, which only aroused her more.

“Last time I checked, I’m still your director,” he groaned, grasping her thighs tight. “Touch yourself.”

She moaned as her hands came up to her breasts, her fingers tweaking her nipples as she looked up at him. He grunted as he watched her, one of hands slipping down between her legs. His fingers found her clit, rubbing them in tight circles around the swollen nub.

“Fuck! Jensen,” she moaned, breathlessly. “Make me cum.”

He chuckled as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down to a torturous pace. “Not yet, baby.”

“Please,” she begged, her chest heaving with her shallow breaths.

“You have to ask better than that, Y/N,” he informed her, the smirk still on his face.

“Please,” she whimpered. She moved one of her hands down, trying to touch her clit but he smacked it away, not giving up the control he had in that moment. “Please, sir… please make me cum.”

“Let’s make a deal, baby,” he suggested, an eyebrow raised as he continued to thrust between her thighs. He groaned, knowing he was close to his own release. “Make me cum first between these perfect thighs, and I’ll let you cum… all over my face.”

She moaned loudly, nodding frantically. The idea of his mouth on her where she wanted him most was too much to bear.

Pressing her thighs together firmly, Jensen’s thrusts became quicker and erratic, getting closer to falling over the edge. He growled as the pressure around his hard cock built, feeling it pulse with his impending release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His hips faltered as he gripped tightly at the flesh of her thighs. He threw his head back, as he let go of her legs, and grasped his cock in his hand. He pumped his hand along his shaft, biting his lip as he looked down at her spread out on his bed. She sat up on her elbows, smiling up at him as she moved his hand away, taking over for him as her hand moved up and down along his cock.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he let out a guttural moan as her hand picked up speed. Ropes of his cum spurted out of his cock, landing on her stomach. She continued to pump him, making sure he gave her everything he had, relishing in the warmth of his release against her skin.

He breathed heavily, his hand cupping her face as he smiled at her. “Your turn.”

Moving his hand to her shoulder, he pushed her back lightly, smiling as she laughed. He got down on his knees, grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Y/N laughed as she slipped down, moving her hands up to her breasts and pinching her nipples. He smirked as he looked up at her, his tongue licking a stripe up her folds. He moaned at the taste of her, feeling how wet she was already from just fucking her thighs.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned loudly, as she felt his stubble against the inside of thighs. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as he continued to run his tongue along her folds, the vibrations of his moans running through her.

“Taste so fucking good, Y/N,” he muttered against her mound, looking up at her. “So perfect.”

He moved his mouth to her clit, moving his tongue in tight circles around the nub. Her hands came down and grabbed his short hair, clenching tightly as she pressed her lips together. His hand came up, slowly inserting a finger into her wet entrance, moving it in and out of her. He added another finger and began to thrust them back and forth, the pads of his fingers hitting her g-spot every time. She whimpered as he picked up speed, his perfect mouth sucking at her clit as he continued to move his fingers.

He released her clit from his mouth, kissing her inner thigh as he moved up her leg.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her skin, placing small nips along the inside of her thigh.

He looked at her, the smile never leaving his face. She pushed herself up on her elbow, her other hand still in his hair. Leaning up, he kissed her roughly as he continued to thrust his fingers into her. She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue. She felt the familiar feeling of her release approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter.

“You ready to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his breath fanning against her lips.

“Yeah,” she gasped, nodding as she looked into his eyes. “Make me cum.”

“Make me cum… what?” he asked, his voice gravelly. A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he laughed with a mischievous grin.

She whimpered, gripping his hair harshly. “Make me cum, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, moving his head back down again.

Jensen moved his mouth back to her clit, his fingers picking speed as he hit that sweet spot inside of her with precision. Y/N looked down at him, still leaning on her elbow to give her a better view. She held his head in place, fearing he’d move if she removed her hand. He licked at her clit, the sounds of her wetness and his ministrations reaching her ears and causing a string of soft moans and whimpers to leave her lips. His mouth sucked at her, his tongue moving around the nub tightly and his fingers thrusting, faster and faster. She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as the coil in her belly snapped. A harsh, strangled whimper of his name left her lips, as she came hard on his tongue and fingers. He lapped at her folds, taking in her juices before he moved his head away, smiling at her.

With a quick kiss to Y/N’s thigh, Jensen got up and fell back on the bed next to her. She breathed heavily as she looked at him, trying to catch her breath. Turning his head, he looked into her eyes. He turned onto his side, moving closer to her. His lips hovered close to hers, his eyes flicking between all the features of her face. She moved in the rest of the way, kissing him softly. Their lips moved passionately against each other’s, not wanting to let go. As much as he didn’t want to let go, he knew they had a schedule to keep today before they wrapped later that night.

“We only have 20 minutes left,” he mumbled, regretfully against her lips.

She nodded, sadly. “We should go.”

They both got up from the bed, cleaning themselves up and getting dressed again in relative silence. The only sounds were the rustling of fabrics and shoes on the floor of the trailer. Y/N fixed her hair as much as she could in the mirror, her eyes continuously flicking over to Jensen as he did the same, fixing the mess she had made of his short locks. With one last look at each other, Jensen opened the door of the trailer and looked around, letting her out first when he saw that no one was around. They walked to the lunch tent, receiving a few questions on their whereabouts. Jensen was quick to tell everyone he took Y/N to see some of the fan favourite props of the show, and Y/N was glad that people believed him, for the most part.

They ate quickly, both of them silent as they sat across from each other. Y/N didn’t know if they weren’t talking because they are was awkwardness after what happened, or whether it was because he didn’t want to accidentally say something about it in front of the crew. Quite frankly, she was fine with not talking about it just yet. She wasn’t sure where they go from here. Did Jensen want to see her again? If so, would it be just to sleep together finally, or did he want more?

She didn’t think she wanted to know the answers to those questions. Not yet anyway.

Little did she know, the same questions were running through Jensen’s head. He enjoyed what happened back in his trailer, but sue him if he didn’t want more with her. He wanted to go the full home run with her, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted to see her again and again. He wanted to ask her out and see where they go from there.

He knew he had to take a leap of faith and ask her before she left town, because who knew when she would return.

They were back on the bunker set, this time in the war room to shoot the last scene Y/N would be in. It was interesting that Y/N’s character leaving at the end of the episode was the second last scene they were filming, but that was where it happened to land. It was like it happened organically, which was rare for their set during filming.

Jensen was standing at the head of the map table, Jared next to him as Y/N stood across from them. Video village was set up at the other end of the library, giving them more room in the war room for lighting and boom mics. Things were quiet as they fell into their characters, Y/N slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder, as the assistant director called ‘action’.

“Thanks for your help. We really owe you one,” Jared said as ‘Sam’.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You really don’t.”

Jensen gave her that signature ‘Dean Winchester’ look, the one that said he was thinking about how to approach a subject. “You know where to find us if we do.”

“You’re buying the six-pack next time,” she said, chuckling slightly.

“Done,” ‘Dean’ said, smirking at her. She smiled at Jensen, finding that her genuine smile to him seeped into the scene.

“See you boys around,” she said, nodding at them. She turned on her heeled ankle boots, walking towards the staircase. With one glance over her shoulder, she gave them a small wave which they returned. She took the stairs all the way up, hearing the AD call ‘cut’.

“Alright, let’s see,” Jensen muttered as he walked over to video village.

Y/N walked down the stairs and over to the map table and placed the duffle bag on it. She waited to hear whether they would have to do another take or not.

“Alright, check the gate! Moving on!” Jensen called out. “That’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N!”

He quickly came out from behind the screens, walking over to her and Jared. All the crew around her clapped, as she gave them a small curtsy, laughing as Jared came over and hugged her.

It wasn’t the usual treatment of guest stars, as they usually came in and did the work and then left but considering there was buzz that her character might make a return, they wanted her to feel at home with all of them. They were kind to people with even the smallest of roles, so Y/N always knew she’d be in safe hands with the Supernatural crew.

Y/N hung around to say goodbye as they shot the last scene between the boys. In that time, she sat with her laptop, hoping she could change her flight to leave in a few days. With luck, she managed to find one leaving Vancouver in 5 days’ time, giving her plenty of time to stick around and explore these feelings she had for the handsome green-eyed actor. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

Given that Jared and Jensen had such a great shorthand with each other, they worked quickly to get the work done. Jensen called a wrap on the episode, and they all congratulated him on the amazing work he did. Everyone began to pack things up, the make-up ladies heading to their trailer as Y/N walked with them. She removed all her make-up, freshened up and then got changed into her clothes she wore to set that morning.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Trish and Frida, followed by the rest of the crew and Bob Singer. Jared swooped in for another big hug, nearly breaking her in half with the pressure of his arms around her.

“Jesus, you don’t know your own strength, you know that?” she said, cringing in slight pain as she turned and twisted, trying to get feeling back in her body.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t handle it,” he laughed, patting her back. “Alright, I’m out of here. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Me too,” she smiled, as he enveloped her in a softer but still warm hug. She decided to leave out the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere just yet, wanting to tell Jensen first.

Jared walked towards the parking lot, heading for the SUV that Cliff was waiting by. They were no doubt waiting on Jensen, who had been finishing up some paperwork after wrapping the episode. Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder, walking towards his trailer in search of him. Reaching the door, she knocked a few times and waited. The door opened, a tired but smiling Jensen greeting her.

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning against the door frame.

“So… I have some news,” she told him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he folded his arms across his chest. His arms were exposed thanks to his black t-shirt, and she suddenly felt like her skin was on fire. She tried not to show her disappointment when he put on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, shutting off the light in the trailer as he closed the door.

She nodded, stepping down from the stairs to the trailer and turning to him. “I changed my flight. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

Jensen felt his heart skip a beat with that news. He nodded, the smile growing bigger on his face. “Well… you want to come over tonight? We can pick up where we left off.”

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. “I’d love to.”

Keeping up the pretence that there wasn’t anything going on, Jensen went back home with Cliff driving him to his apartment. Y/N called an Uber, knowing that if she had joined them Jared and Cliff would question what was happening. She and Jensen hadn’t spoken about it, but they both knew that there wasn’t anything to say to anyone until they figured it out themselves. For now, she wanted him in ways she’s never wanted anyone else and she was more than ready to see what he was capable of.

Reaching Jensen’s apartment, Y/N went up to his floor and down the hall, knocking on his door, noting that it was the right one from the text he had sent while she was in the Uber. The door swung open, and she grinned as Jensen smirked at her, letting her in. She took in the apartment, with its beautiful view of the city lights twinkling at night, a large screen TV and comfortable couch, and his guitar on the wall closest to her. However, as nice as it was that wasn’t where her mind was in that moment.

Turning around, Y/N looked at him, his eyes reflecting the same things she was feeling. They moved towards each other, their lips meeting in a rough, but sensual kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other. Pushing and pulling at each other’s clothes, their lips continued to move against each other, not wanting to stop.

“Thank god you changed your flight,” he mumbled against her swollen lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders and jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His hands immediately supported her as he carried her off to his bedroom.

By the time they came up for air, the sun was rising, and Jensen had to leave to go to work for the first day of the next episode. With a promise of returning later that day, he told Y/N to stay at his apartment, telling her she could use whatever she wanted before he had to leave.

As she stood on the balcony and looked out at the view with her morning coffee, she had never been more thankful to a job she had taken. She made some great friends already, there was a buzz that she may come back for more episodes, and she had met the most incredible man who she couldn’t wait to explore more with.

She found herself repeating Jensen’s words from the night before as she smiled into her morning cup of caffeine.

Thank god she changed her flight.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

[straykidsworldwild]

Duskwood

Phil Hawkins x MC

Part 1 : MC is having a horrible, horrible day and she goes to the Aurora to have a drink.

(⚠️Sad. Some swearing ⚠️)

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Heyy guys!! Here's a little Phil Hawkins one shot part 1 because there's not enough Duskwood imagines 🙈

(pictures aren't mines but I made the collage and the character aren't mines. All rights go to Duskwood creators and owners of the pics.)

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My day was total crap... I don't believe I've had such a horrible day before. Or at least, not for a long time... It feels like everything is falling apart little by little. Like nothing is meant to go normally. I woke up like any other day, and yet, it feels like I woke up in a chaotic world where everything is meant to go wrong... Since that call, everything is going downhill...

The night has fallen which means I have officially done my day. It felt like forever... Like I am in an endless loop... And since I was meant to do the closing, my day felt even longer than usual. I just finished cleaning the little restaurant I worked at and closed it. It's not a job I would want to do my whole life, even though it is nice to work in a restaurant, but I need money to pay for my college study. My mom is helping pay for them, but I'm trying to pay as much as I can on my own. Anyway... I am walking in the streets of Duskwood which are beamed by the streetlights. It is surprisingly emptier than usual. I guess it's due to the rain... Like my day wasn't cloudy enough already... I think I need a break... Yeah... I need a drink...

I walk toward a familiar building, some greenish-blueish light lightening the area. Aurora... The famous bar of Duskwood owned by my best friend's brother. I've rarely been there alone... Usually I go with the rest of the group. But I really need... Ugh... Maybe I should just go home? Isn't it too late to go there anyway? Ugh... I'm asking myself too many questions. I guess a drink really won't hurt. I reach the door before falling face to face with a sign. CLOSED. Great... I sigh disappointed as I am standing under the rain. Oh... But he is still here. Through the window, I can see a familiar figure cleaning the place. Oh well, I'm neither here nor there... I lift my hand and knock on the door of the bar. The man turned around as I got his attention. I cross my arms over my chest and notice that the rain has already soaked my hair and my vest. I must look awful... The man comes up to the door and opens it for me.

- Gorgeous! Come in before you catch a cold, tells me, the man, using that nickname he always does. I don't know why he does it... I never heard him calling other girls like this. Well, he does use pet names but not this specific one. I step in the bar and he closes the door behind me. You know I love you very much but I'm about to close so... He begins to tell me with his famous smirk despite the little fatigue I can see on his face. His hair is held up in a bun as he usually does when he works. He is wearing a white shirt, letting his huge tattoo on his neck appear, and a black trousers. By the sight of his eyes, I can tell he had a long day too...

- I just need one drink, Phil, I simply answer to my friend. My voice sounded so... Tired and flat. Phil looks at me with a slight surprise, losing slowly his smile. I guess the sound of my voice surprised him. Please... I plead to him with the same tone.

- I would never say "no" to my favorite customer, would I? He answers with a smirk. I faintly smile back at him, happy that finally something goes well. For now... He could have said "no". The two of us walk over to the bar and I sit on a stool while he goes behind the counter. We're alone in the bar since he was about to close so it's pretty quiet. The usual I guess, he tells me with his deep and calm voice.

- Actually... Whiskey. Pure, I reply, stopping him in his momentum. Phil looks back at me for a second, processing my words.

- Wow, I knew you had that wild part in you, Gorgeous, but I didn't think I would ever see it, he tells me with a surprised tone again. Yet, he doesn't seem to dislike it. Phil gets two glasses and he pours a little bit of the beverage in the glasses.

- A little more, please... I tell him with the same flat and tired voice. I stop myself from letting a long sigh out. Again, I feel his eyes burning me before he pours a little more alcohol. Thanks, I thank him.

- On the house, he tells me, leaning against the counter as he raises his glass. I was about to retort but he gave me a look, telling me he won't change his mind.

- Double thanks, I thank him again, clinking my glass with him before taking a sip. Argh... That tastes awful! I can feel the liquid burning my throat.

- So... I know I act like I am very happy to see you, which is the case, don't get me wrong, Gorgeous, he begins to tell me before rapidly correcting himself. But I also see that you're not fine, MC, Oh... I look down as I take a deep breath in. It must not be very hard to see I had a bad day then... Usually I can hide it pretty well... But right now. It's too deep, too much. I'm not even sure "bad" is a strong enough word to describe how crappy my day was. What's wrong? He asks me, sounding calm, gentle and interested, yet, with a point of concern.

- I'm okay, Phil, I softly respond to my friend while slowly shaking my head negatively.

- Mmh... This "I'm okay" sounded more like a "I'm-not-okay-but-I-am-putting-a-brave-face-on". Like a hidden call for help, he tells me gently, yet, seriously. His deep voice is just so... Irresistible, and always so calm. Who could resist it? Well... I guess at this moment I can. My mind is too bothered and busy right now. I crack a very faint smile before looking down at my glass again. I take a sip of it and lightly grimace to the taste of the drink. Who hurt you? He asks me seriously as he takes a cigarette and the lighter. Who… Why someone and not something?

- It's not about me, I respond in a whisper, lying to him. I hate talking about myself when I'm down. I don't want to bother people with my problems... I don't want to be the one to bring negative vibes. Oh no... I turn lightly my head to the side as I feel the tears coming up. I need a break... I need to break.

- Lie, he simply says. I don't look at him and I don't contradict him either. What happened? He asks again with seriousness, not letting this subject aside. I don't answer again. I can feel a lump in my throat. The tears are thick in my eyes and threatening to fall at any time now. MC, talk to me. I'm not here to judge you or... I hide my face even more as I can't stop myself from grimacing sadly. I can't take it... I let a sob out accidentally as if my body is talking for myself. I want to scream. But I can't... MC... He calls me with concern. Phil puts down his cigarette and walks around the counter to join my sides. I don't move and keep my back to him. I hate when people see me crying... Phil puts his hand on my shoulder so I could face him but I push it away, not too harshly, but not too gently either. I let another sob out as I closed my eyes. The tears are so thick and warm... There's so much emotion in them. They roll down my cheeks regularly, evacuating my pain. Without saying a word, I feel a pair of arms holding me. A chest lays against my back. My hair was all wet... His shirt must be wet too by now. It's okay, MC, I hear him whispering. I should push him away. I know how Phil is with girls... Isn't it too easy to cry in front of him and him then being too nice? I know he is my friend and my best friend's brother, but... God, I'm lost. Usually I go to Jessy or I call her. But I came here... Why? Ugh...

- I'm sorry... I whisper shakily through my sobs. I came for a drink and I ended up breaking in front of him...

- No, it's okay. Get it out, he says with a comforting and calm tone. It actually sounds weird coming from him... I know Phil for a few years and he was never like this. I mean, he is always calm but caring like this? That's rare... More than rare. Long minutes later, I slowly calm down. I am still breathing lightly shakily but I'm not sobbing anymore. Only a few tears here and there stream down my eyes. I take a deep breath in and out before wiping my cheeks. I don't remember when was the last time I cried this much... It hurts. It hurts so much. I accumulated too much. I didn't break when mom told me about my uncle's death… I guess I didn't realize what was real and happening at the moment… Or I didn't want to believe it… That built up on my nerves and… This is the result. Slowly, I pull myself away from Phil who didn't let go of me one second. I turn around to face him, but avoid his eyes. Like I thought, the top of his shirt is all wet, letting his tattoos appear a little more on his chest. I'm still confused about what just happened... That's not me to cry in front of people like this... And that's definitely not the Phil I know. Tell me what's wrong, Gorgeous, he says seriously, still wanting to know what got me in such a state. He never gives up...

- Everything, I answer back, my voice lightly breaking. I wipe my cheeks again as I clear my throat. To begin with, when I woke up this morning, I learned that my uncle had passed away during the night. He drove a truck from a country to another and... I explain to him, confessing the terrible news that started this awful day of mine. However, I couldn't bring myself to finish my sentence. I bring my hand over my heart and press on it as if it would take the pain away. Since the call... Just saying those words hurts just as much as saying them in my head. If not more...

- I'm sorry to hear that, he apologizes sincerely.

- Me too... Thanks... But that's not it, I thank him with a sad tone before lightly sniffling. After receiving my mom's call to tell me this awful news, I went to work today because I couldn't stay home. I needed to get my mind busy and to... Not think about the incident, I confess as I feel a new tear rolling down my cheek. My uncle and I were close, you know? He kind of raised me with my mom since my dad left her when she told him about me, I admit to the boy. I watch Phil frowning as he discovers a part of my life that I don't usually bring up. Why am I telling him all of this? It's not like he cares anyway... Does he? Anyway, to continue this unpleasant day, I had the pleasure to meet very unpleasant and rude customers all day long. Like this one call wasn't enough already... One of the customers said that they didn't want me as their waitress because I've got curves, some others telling me I was too long when in reality I just walked away from their table, a couple literally told me I gave them the wrong command and threw their drinks at me, and another one insulted me because there wasn't anymore sandwich like he wanted, I tell him all of this in just one single breath. Yet, you could hear how tired and hurt I am right now. I guess the death of my uncle adding this unnecessary crap was just too much at once. And to add more, my boss is cutting half my pay off because I accidentally broke a cup... A damn cup! Can this day get any worse? I finish to say as I look away, letting a heavy and shaky sight out as another tear rolls down my face. My hand is still over my heart as if I am protecting it all while trying to reject all negative emotions. Suddenly, two fingers softly come grabbing my chin and force me to lift my head up.

- Your boss is a dick, MC. Always have been, always will be, he tells me, the sound of those words sounding familiar. How many times did he already say this to me? I stopped counting... But I should listen, he is right. And f**k those customers. They're not happy? Tell them to go to another restaurant, he responds seriously. His deep voice sounds so calm despite the upset look he has on his face. Am I upsetting him or is he upset because of what happened to me today?

- Right, I kind of need to keep my job despite everything. But you can go tell them that, I respond with a small scoff, yet, trying to use sarcasm.

- Sure, give me names and faces and I'll find them, he replies playfully, yet a point of seriousness heard in his voice. I smile to his answer, appreciating his concern and protectiveness. Though, I never thought it would ever happen one day. Phil is... Not the last person I'd go to to talk but definitely not the first one either... Usually. I look away again and lightly sniffle. Phil wipes some of my tears away. His hands are so soft... It's weird. I've never seen you cry before, he whispers. I look back up at him, watching him slightly frowning. That's true... Not sure a lot of people saw me crying before either... Not even Jessy. I weakly nod before shrugging.

- How does it feel to watch a girl crying in front of you? I reply slightly playfully. Jessy's brother grabs something on the other side of the counter before handing it to me. Tissues... I take them from his hand, thanking him.

- It's painful. When it's you... It's different... Painful, he responds, taking his cigarette again. Oh... I wasn't waiting for an answer like this one. I was waiting for him to say "Can you just stop thinking for a moment?" Or "Stop crying over so little"... But none of that. I watch Phil blowing some smoke, making sure it doesn't go in my face.

- Is the womanizer Phillip Hawkins starting to be an emotional guy? I question him with a playful tone, cracking a smile. I think it's the first time today that I cracked a smile. A real one, I mean.

- No, he's the same dick, he answers, shaking his head left to right while chuckling. Oh... Of course. That would have been too surreal. I'm not going to lie, Phil is a good looking guy. His long hair, his tattoos looking so cool, his piercing, the way he dresses, his voice,... Just the way he is is attractive. The sound of his chuckle runs through my body.

- He admits it, I reply as I feel myself smiling more and more as the tears are coming to a stop. Prove it, I tell him with a daring tone. Phil leans against the counter, smirking.

- Wanna stay with me, tonight? At my place. The bed is comfy and big enough for us two, he proposes seriously to me, a point of flirt in his voice. I know he is being serious. I can hear it in his voice. And that look of his... I know girls don't refuse him generally. But I'm not them. And I don't want to end up in his bed just for one night and then nothing. That's not me... That's not who I am. That's not what I want. He can be incredibly good looking and just be his amazing self, I'll still refuse.

- I don't do one night stands, Phil, I remind him seriously.

- I know... He replies, a slight hidden note of his tone telling me he is disappointed. It's no secret that Phil has been liking me for a while. He has tried to ask me a few times before but I declined them all for... Obvious reasons. Let's do two then, he suddenly says, half joking, half serious.

- Phil! I exclaim as I chuckle.

- It's okay. I'll accept even three nights. Or more. I won't mind, Gorgeous, he continues to say, but I can tell he is joking this time. I softly laugh while shaking my head. There's that smile I love, he states, sounding satisfied with himself for making me smile. Honestly, Gorgeous, don't mind those idiots. Don't let them get to you, he advises me seriously as he finishes his whiskey.

- I don't usually. But I thought going to work was going to help me forget that awful news for a moment. I went there hoping to clear my head. I guess it was just too much today and I needed to break. Sorry it had to be you watching me like this, I answer and apologize to the boy as I take a sip of my drink. Ugh... It's the last time I take Whiskey... I lightly grimace and put the glass down.

- I'm not. If you ever have a bad day again and feel the need to talk, don't hesitate knocking on my door. Even if it's closed. It's always open for you, he tells me seriously and sincerely. Honestly, I haven't met that guy before... Where's the Phil I know?

- Thanks, Phil, I thank him before stepping down the stool. I step up twice and take him in my arms. The man envelops me back in a warm embrace, running softly his hand on my back. I pull my head away and place a kiss on his cheek as a thank you. And before you think of anything spicy, that kiss on the cheek is the farthest you'll ever have, I rapidly tell him, a point of warning in my voice, yet, using a playful tone.

- You're definitely killing me with kindness, MC. My poor heart pays dearly, he tells me with a frustrated tone before I watch him taking my glass of Whiskey. Oh... He winks and takes a sip from it. Oh yeah, drink that thing... I don't like it anyway. And I think he noticed it...

- Moh, maybe one of those girls coming here could put a bandage on it to heal it, I say with some sarcasm, yet, with some dislike heard into it. I always hated that those girls could "help" him... I mean, what do they have? What does he see in them? Before anything said, no, I'm not jealous... I just don't like him with other girls...

- They could. But will it be worth it? He answers while nodding before taking his cigarette and blowing so smoke away.

- You tell me. You're the one who can't resist "beautiful women", I reply to the man, stating his own words. Phil smiles and chuckles lightly to my comment.

- They can definitely help at a low point, he answers, agreeing. Right... Wait, at a low point?

- At a low point? What do you mean? I ask him with a confused tone.

- I can sleep with every woman that wants me. But, in the end, it will never mean anything like... Like when you're with me, he suddenly tells me, lowering his head lightly. His smile disappeared, showing seriousness. Did I hear him right? Did he just say those words? I stare at the man, confused and speechless. Me? Why...? Since when...? Ugh... He had a few drinks today, didn't he? Phil looks back up at me, but his eyes give a quick look at my lips.

- I'm sorry. I'm trying but... Are those words really coming from you or... Did you have any drinks before? I demand him seriously, yet, with a playful tone to keep a cool atmosphere. Arguing with him is the last thing I want. Phil cracks a smile but it doesn't stay long.

- I know I play a lot around with different girls. I know what you think of me. I'm a f**k boy. And I know I tried several times to get a night with you. But... It's not just a night that I want and you don't seem to see that, he replies, not denying who he is but also kind of reproaching me to not open my eyes about him. Well… How could I? If he doesn't tell me, I only see things the way I see them... I nod positively before looking down. Why do I feel a little sorry suddenly? I shouldn't... There's something different with you, MC. You're different. From all the others. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to dirty you. I don't want to play with you. I don't want to break you, he tells me gently and seriously. I slowly look back up at him and notice how close he is to me. Was he that close to me before? I can feel my heart beating like crazy down my chest. It's wrong... It feels right, but it's wrong. I know it...

- Phil... I gently whisper his name as I a look down again.

- I love you, MC, he interrupts me with his calm and deep voice. What...? I stare at him with wide eyes, surprised by the words I just heard. I didn't even know he knew how to say them… Especially while sounding sincere. He meant those words. I love you like I have never loved a woman before. And I'm not talking about loving the "pretty woman" that you are. No, I mean... He sighs. You're pretty. You're more than pretty. You're prettier than all of those girls and I am not talking just about the way you look. I just... Again, I hear Phil sighing. Despite the fast that he stays calm, I can sense some nervousness coming from him which is unusual. Phil is never nervous, especially around a woman. He is the exact opposite actually. He is pretty confident about himself. He talks easily, flirts easily… You're not a price I want to win or a pride to have f**ked in bed. You have this thing that the others don't have. You're special, he says with the same calm and slight nervous tone. Phil looks straight before him as he blows some smoke. Special... He noticed this little thing in me, which I didn't know I had…

- You really noticed that small thing in me? Because, honestly, I'm everything but special. I can assure you, I demand and tell him with a point of shiness. Wow... I didn't think I would have sounded so shy all of a sudden...

- I told you. I love you. And you know those words don't come out of my mouth easily. Actually, I don't think I ever said them to someone before, he replies seriously and gently before taking a last blow and putting out his cigarette. I stare at him, not really knowing how to react. I mean, of course it does make me feel something. There's... There are those butterflies flying in my belly. My heart is racing and my cheeks feel a little warm... Maybe a little more than a little, actually. I know I feel something for him. I can't deny it… But there's still things in the way...

- Honestly, I'm discovering another man right now. Why don't you show this side of yours to people? Pride? Male ego? I demand him with a small confused tone, yet curious.

- I am who I am, he simply answers.

- Mmh... Well, I like this Phil better, I answer him as I crack a smile. Phil looks at me and his serious face turns into a smiling one again.

- So, would you go out one night? Or during a lunch break? He proposes to me, hope heard in his voice. Oh... Well... I know your days are long and I work at night too so it'll be short but... He tells me gently, reminding us of our busy lives. Right, there's not a lot of moments where we can meet… But do I want to meet him like this? I mean, yes, I want to but… Do I want to get in something like this? In an uncertain relationship where I'll fear he goes to see someone else to distract himself from me? Despite this side of him, he is still Phil in the end...

- If you do this to only get me in your bed... I whisper, interrupting him. I hope it's not a plan of his to get me in his bed... That'll be the worst thing he could do... Especially as being my friend first...

- I do this to win your heart. As cheesy as it sounded... Nothing more, he tells me seriously, staring into my eyes. Speechless, I stare at him as well. For once in my life, I just want to do right. Especially with you… For you… Because of you... But it's only if you want to, he responds sincerely to me, looking serious. It's actually a little disturbing. Phil has always had respect for everyone, including me. He always respected that I didn't want a one time thing… What changed?

- I don't know, I whisper, confused by the situation. It's not that I don't want to be with him nor that I don't like him. On the contrary. I love Phil. But... There's few things in the way...

- Because of my past with women? He asks me, sounding really confused that I won't accept. I'm certainly the only woman telling him "no". Especially after a few tries.

- Yes... And because of my insecure self. Look at you and look at me. You own an amazing bar, I work as a waitress with a crappy boss. You look cool and get well and easily along with people, I look like that discreet and shy girl who is nothing more than being awkward. And you're my best friend's brother. And there's the age gap, which is the least that bothers me, I tell him everything that I thought on why I don't say "yes" to him. I mean... I think he can understand where I'm coming from. I hope... I don't want to lose a friend, in a way, just because of that...

- You're perfect the way you are, MC. Nobody will take that thought out of my mind, he states seriously. I notice how his eyes are alternating from my own to my lips. They keep going up and down. He seems eager...

- Right... You said it, not me, I say with a disbelieving tone, yet a playful one while I giggle. A small smile comes on my face which keeps growing more and more. I'm not going to lie, but hearing him saying those words do something inside me.

- And I believe it, he says while nodding. He does... I stare at him for a moment, the two of us plunge into a deep silence. It's not awkward... It's intense, but not awkward. I'm just so not confident with myself. What if he is playing me? And what if he is not? Ugh… I should let go sometimes... Really... I could open doors I didn't even think I had the key of.

- Tomorrow. Meet me for lunch if you're free. We can start there to see how it goes, I propose to the man which, I notice, makes him smile instantly.

- Is it a date? He asks with a smirk. Well...

- I'm not sure... Maybe... We'll see, I reply unsure, yet, smirking back at him. Yes, I'm entering his game easily... Was it right? Though, we could hear this point of shyness in my voice.

- Will I get to finally kiss you? He then asks, slowly getting even more closer to me. Oh... I can feel my heart racing a little more, hearing it beat in my ears. He's making me so nervous… Kiss me… Is that all he wants?

- Phil... I whisper his name, annoyed, as I lightly title my head on the side.

- What? I showed you a part of me, doesn't mean the other one is gone, he answers with a not so innocent tone, still smirking at me. I keep staring at him a little annoyed despite the amused smile on my face. Alright, just lunch, he says, agreeing. I nod back positively. And a hug? He rapidly asks.

- A hug? I ask, surprised and confused. Phil winks at me. I can see he is waiting for an actual answer. Oh well... Sure. Whatever. I've got to go home. It's getting late, I agree before standing up from the stool. I didn't think but, when I stood up, my face got so close to his. At this moment, when my eyes met his, it was as if the time had stopped for a second. Slow motion. It was like I couldn't remember what reality looked like. I feel my cheeks starting to burn before I look down to hide my certainly blushing face from him. Why did I have to happen to have a crush on him? Why him? Why does he make me feel this way? I clear my throat quietly and start walking towards the door.

- Be careful on your way home. Tell me once you're there, he tells me as he follows me behind.

- I will, I reply. I was about to open the door when his hand grabbed the handle first. My fingers brushed his. I retrieve my hand and let him open the door for me. Still with my cheek lightly burning from previously, I manage to cross sight with his eyes and smile at him. Thanks for the night, the drink, holding me when I cried, and for listening to me, Phil, I thank him sincerely as I weakly nod to the man.

- You're very welcome, Gorgeous, he responds with his deep and calm voice while smiling back at him. That damn smile... Goodnight, MC, he wishes me softly.

- Goodnight, Phil, I wish him back. The two of us exchange one last look and smile before I walk out of his bar. I put my hands in my pockets and walk home.

I'm not sure what exactly happened there... I went to the bar to have a drink to relax and take my mind off and I ended up with Phil holding me when I broke down and accepting to have lunch together. Will it be a date? Will it actually go somewhere? Was he being serious? So many questions burning my mind... I will see how tomorrow goes. I'll have so much to do tomorrow, anyway... Mom is certainly going to call me for the funerals, my work is going to be tiring as always, and the lunch with Phil... I wonder what Jessy will say if she knew that her brother and I are going on a... Lunch? Date? Whatever it's called... Will she be okay with... What we're doing? Will she mind if I go out with her brother? Ugh, why do I already think of things like this? I'm not there yet... Anyway... I think I just need some sleep right now, nothing more. If I manage to actually fall asleep once I'll be home and in my bed… It promises to be a long night...

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

41. Quidditch field Victories

Prompt used- Sitting close and Knees touching| Harry and Draco are forcefully made to sit together for the rest of the term | unestablished relationship | not very proud of this one.

" just stop being a fucking dork and one of these days actually ask him out, will you?" Ron harshly Whispered

" it's not like it's easy- you of all people should understand" Harry whispered back

" I know I hate that git but I'd rather have you do crappy thing's with him than sit there and listen to you talk about how his hair looks different " Ron Whispered

" well- I can't just-"

" Mr. Potter, enough. I'd very much appreciate if you'd not be a disturbance to my classes and actually do some studying. Sit down with Mr. Malfoy right this Instant" Professor McGonagall interrupted his one on one conversation with Ron.

" but Pro-"

" I said right now Mr. Potter " and who wasn't scared of the almost death glare from Professor McGonagall.

Collecting his scattered things on the table, he went and sat down next to Draco, his still so called rival, Only his now his insults sounded more like " nice hair pottah" or " you actually cleaned your shoes, pottah " and even after that Harry never understand why couldn't he just call him potter without the special emphasis.

For the rest of the class, Draco didn't make any insults and simply focused on the lesson, making Harry do exactly the same. And again after the class Ron wanted to bang his head against the wall listening to harry.

" Mr. Potter, I'd like to have a word with you " professor McGonagall immediately called him out.

Frowning Harry followed her inside the room and sat down in the front chair.

" can I ask you what was so entertaining or so important that you had to discuss it in my class ?"

" it- it was something related to the class " Harry lied, he should've known he sucked at it.

" alright, If you were actually paying attention to the class, let me ask is glamouring charm a part of transfiguration?"

Harry wanted to reply but he highly respected professor McGonagall and couldn't let her down by giving an absurd answer so he went for the truth " I don't know professor "

" that's what I thought. However, I wanted to discuss your grades. You are seriously lacking behind in my class and I don't want to point out but being with Weasley is sure doing that. So either you work on it or get yourself someone to help you with it "

" understood"

" then you may leave"

But like empty promises, Harry by default was still flunking his class, he liked to call transfiguration of 8th year a tad bit more difficult.

" I will not have this attitude Mr. Potter. You are to be seated with Mr. Malfoy for the rest of the term -"

" but-"

" I said what I said Mr. Potter " and there was her glare, so again he picked all his things and sat down next to Draco.

" I might actually have to think, you like sitting with me " Draco smirked

" like my world revolves around you malfoy " Harry rolled his eyes and started taking down notes from the board like Draco himself.

As much as Harry wouldn't like to admit it, he did pay attention to the class and was infact pretty pleased that by sitting with Draco, he Actually could work. The only problem was he still hated his guts.

" hey potter "

Harry turned around to see Draco leaning over one of his friend, laughing about something.

" what ?" Harry rolled his eyes

" better not to be flunking more classes or I'd actually have to consider that you like sitting with me "

" as if malfoy " harry spat and walked away.

" can't believe you saved his life. Told you, was never worth saving " Ron rolled his eyes as he walked along with harry to the next lesson.

The coming weekend, him, Ron and Hermione were finally able to hit Hogsmeade again, for the first time this season.

" why can't you just get one of your girl friends to come do some shopping with you " Ron whined as they walked with Hermione to do her girl shopping

" because Ron, one of these days, this might actually be useful for you when you get a girlfriend " Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked her last item and walked to the counter to get it billed

" I hardly doubt " Ron raised his eyebrows as he helped her with her stuff " Harry- do you think- oh god not again "

" what ?" Hermione asked

" he's staring again "

" Harry, if you really like him so much, just ask him out " Hermione suggested

" I don't- well not technically like him. And I don't even know if he's interested- hi Zacharias "

" hi harry. Good day " and with a smile Zacharias completely walked by him.

" let's just get out of here " Harry sighed and almost pulled both of them out of the shop.

The rest of the day, Harry let them be and walked behind them, practically third Wheeling but enjoying himself by observing people until his eyes fell upon someone flying on a broomstick in the quidditch Field, well not flying but being still, staring far ahead.

When they finally walked back to Hogwarts, Harry had finally discovered who was in the quidditch Field but decided not to ruin the only thing left off him.

For the next few weeks, Harry had to sit with Draco, someday's willingly and someday unwillingly. The willingly days were when sometimes Draco helped him out with something and the unwillingly days when Draco's friends would sit ahead of them and he would crack up some insult every once in a while.. all in all, Draco wasn't such a bad company after all when he wasn't insulting or trying to.

As the winter came along and things got more colder and Hogsmeade went of bounds yet to Draco, quidditch Field wasn't out of bounds and even in the days of the worst cold, he remained in the air watching far ahead. Simply amused, one of the cold Sundays Harry took his broom and joined along with Draco.

" hey, what you doing here ?" Harry asked as he zoomed a bit more towards Draco without startling him.

" staring. You know I was only joking that you actually like sitting with me but now I think you've taken this a bit more seriously " Draco smirked

" please all you want. I just wanted to- well I couldn't go to Hogsmeade"

" yeah, I heard it's shut down "

Harry nodded, staring at Draco only for a minute when he turned his head and resumed staring at the far distance.

" I see you come here often " Harry said all of a sudden, following Draco's line of sight.

" well I'm not invisible, am I ?"

" do you always have to sarcastic ?"

" do you always have to be a pain in the ass ?"

" I regret coming here " Harry rolled his eyes

" I'm only joking " Draco chuckled. If Harry hadn't stalked Draco for longer than he was supposed to , he wouldn't had noticed how Draco sounded when he chuckled but he did stalk him and this was foreign and it felt nice.

" like you go to Hogsmeade for a break, I come here. It's nice when you can actually see the water's without the snow but it's still as Beautiful " Draco said

" I remember the most Beautiful forest I'd seen on the run, the forest of Deen but I'm just afraid if going back there. It's nice but it's kind of tainted with the -"

" escape from the war. A hiding "

" yeah " Harry frowned how quickly Draco Found the exact words Harry was going to say.

" I understand. During the war, the dark forest was like that to me but now I can't go back. Back then I had a purpose, now I don't" Draco shrugged.

Harry was slightly amazed to look at a new side of Draco, a side which wasn't equipped with insults and torments " if only you were this nice in school "

" well- if you must know, I don't want to ruin my time here, no matter the circumstances. Even if those includes you "

" ha, there's the quip "

Draco grinned shaking his head. Harry bit his lip, wondering how had he never noticed Draco this way before, when he wasn't trying so hard to be someone he wasn't.

" I don't know why, but right now you're easy to talk to "

" Don't make me regret this potter. I'm not always that bad "

" oh yeah, wanna do a flashback check " Harry chuckled.

" no, I'm good " Draco shook his head smiling.

And for the rest of the time, Harry ever once in a while glanced at Draco and smiled to himself and enjoyed the view of the frozen lake and the forest covered in snow. When he slept that night, but only in his drowsiness he admitted that he'd like to have that day, everyday.

In the next couple days to follow, Harry and Draco remained from throwing unnecessary insults at each other and actually offered a smile every time they sat down next to each other. And even if they both hated to admit it, they liked it.

It was Only until, Harry realised he was, maybe, enjoying it a little more than usual. The evenings on the broom, awkwardly meeting each other at the library, sitting together in class, it was making them have much more interaction than their whole lives. That very day, when he sat down next to Draco, he was very much aware of the fact that he was sitting too close to Draco, with his knees almost touching those of Draco's, and his hands resting a little more towards Draco than they were supposed to and so with a blush, he created more distance and didn't talk to him after class as usual, because instead he ran into Zacharias.

" hey, how have you been Harry ?" He asked

" hey- I didn't see you there. I've been good. Really. more maybe, how have you been ?" Harry replied

" I've been good too. By the way,I was wondering if this Sunday you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me, it's going to open for while ?" Harry only caught a clever grin of Ron from behind Zacharias before he was snapped back into conversation with Zacharias.

" sounds perfect " Harry smiled and with that Zacharias walked away leaving Harry a bit more giddy than usual. Until Draco walked by past him, almost disappointed.

Spending the Sunday with Zacharias was just how Harry should've expected it to be but all he could think was of Draco, not In the quidditch Field that day, despite having caught him at breakfast. He enjoyed being with Zacharias, Only until he realised that all he did was wanting to talk about where Harry was during the war or who all did he meet or how he figured the hocruxes. Being the nice one, Harry couldn't deny answering the questions but it leave him with short Answers. When they finally walked back to the castles, Harry was desperate to walk into the dormitories and catch a sight of Draco through the window if he could, which he didn't of course.

It was within a few days Harry figured the reason why Draco didn't go out on Sunday and immediately ratted out Zacharias.

" that was bullying "

" what are you even defending him for, he bullied you for like half your school life" Zacharias snapped

" it doesn't matter what happens between us..but I never beat him. You beat Him out of no purpose, no Reason, just out of the blue and left him limp. And not to forget, right before you took me to Hogsmeade " Harry snapped

" he is a goddamn death eater-"

" don't do you dare say he deserves it, you moron. When you don't know shit about someone, don't go assuming " Harry snapped back again. It was no doubt they had gathered some attention and harry quite liked the attention Because it Only degraded Zacharias right now

" whatever Harry, what happened, happened-"

" and it better not happen again.. you're not his rival, I am and that's the bottom line. You don't get to fight him or insult him. That's my job, so stay away" and harry stormed away after yelling.

And he knew exactly where to go on a fine Sunday evening.

" you didn't had to do that " he said

" of course, I did. He fucked up my rival " Harry rolled his eyes as he stilled in the air next to Draco.

" that was pretty possessive of you " Draco chuckled

" I don't care about that. I can't go around knowing you have Someone else who hates you, it's just me and you know it's the same for me. You cannot bear someone hating on me other than you"

" hate to admit it but it is kind of true " Draco gave Harry a smile before he zoomed down to one of the benches, Harry following him.

" he didn't hit you hard though, did he ?" Harry asked once they had hit the bleachers and kept their brooms aside.

" it was fine. I'm little used to people throwing hate on me now " Draco shrugged as he casted a heating spell on both of them

" but that's wrong"

" but that's the thing, they don't see it. I was once wrong and that's what I'll always be" Draco sighed rubbing his hands together.

" not to me. I know who I saved and who bullied me and they're two different people. You didn't save my life that day in the malfoy manor just for fun, or something. You did because- well I don't know why- but you did and that's the true you, not the stupid kid who believed too much in rivalry "

Draco remained stunned by Harry's words. It was usual for him for someone to hate on him now, but someone actually being nice, he didn't think he deserved it anymore.

" you deserve to be treated fairly malfoy, no matter what. You may have been on the bad side, but you're not actually bad "

" i- uh- I really don't know what to say "

" you don't have to " harry smiled softly, Scooting a little closer to Draco.

" I understand what it's like to pretend each day. To wake up every morning and pretend everything is normal when it's not. Father is probably never getting out of azkaban, mom is still on House arrest and I still have to go every Saturday and prove myself innocent. That's why i fly every Sunday. To break free. I'm just so -"

" tired of pretending ? I know what it's like. It's weird how I know you understand me the most but the truth is truth. You do. Everyone just wants to know about the war, nobody wants to know me and it sometimes hurts but can I help it? No, so I pretend to enjoy telling the stories I hate"

Draco sympathetically looked at harry. It was true, how in the whole wide world, they possibly were the only two people who could understand each other and that was pretty revolutionary on its own.

" I thought you liked Zacharias ?" Draco asked after minutes of silence.

" I think my preferences have changed to people who actually want to know me than people who would beat someone up for no reason " he gave Draco the simplest smile of them all, yet he told Draco exactly what he needed to tell and Draco didn't mind it, even a little bit..

After all, he wanted the same too.

And who knew, professor McGonagall was watching from her own window and was pretty proud of her own little Victory.

Requests open

Day 40- just keep swimming | Day 42- little thing's

[expectingtofly]

Not Jealous (Okay, Maybe a Little... Maybe a Lot)

8.1k

fluff, set sometime in s13, tfw gets a visit from the djinn queen

(okay so in 13x16, Cas says he killed most of the djinn guarding the Tree of Life, but this fic ignores that bc I like to think that Cas is an excellent negotiator and actually became friends with the djinn and their queen :))

also posted on ao3

created for CastielWasTheFirstTemptation for the Profound Bond Discord Exchange

Dean was having a crappy Tuesday. And he’d had plenty of experience with bad Tuesdays. 

He was sitting in the library trying to parse through a stack of books, organizing them according to random categories he was half-sure Sam had made up to specifically torture him. 

They’d been busy with hunts all month and on their one day off, Sam had decided it was “organize the bunker” day. He was downstairs in one of the storage rooms happily cataloguing away. Dean was stuck up here, doing the same thing, less happily. 

He was tossing a book onto the Sewer Dwelling Monsters pile when the bunker door screeched open. 

“Hey,” he called, grabbing another book and leafing through it. “You better have remembered to pick up beer and pie because I’m going crazy here.”

“Dean, we have a visitor.”

And that’s when Dean’s Tuesday got worse. 

Dean looked up to see Cas standing on the stairway next to a ridiculously tall man—and that was saying something when they lived with Sasquatch himself. Dean only needed one look at the black tattoos snaking over the man’s bald head and forearms to realize he was a Djinn.

Quickly, Dean stood, pushing his chair back. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

The man fixed him with a heavy stare, then proceeded to scan the room. Cas spoke up, “Don’t worry, he’s not a threat.” To the man, he said, “I promise it’s safe in here.”

“What—” Dean started, then the man nodded once and motioned to someone beyond the doorway. 

In a loud voice, he announced, “May I present Queen of the Djinn, her majesty Zara.”

At his words, a woman swept through the door, dressed in a long, dark cloak, her arms and neck also covered in Djinn tattoos.

“Why, Castiel,” she said, gazing around the room. “What a lovely home you have. I have to say, though, I didn’t expect you to live underground.”

“I’m sorry,” Dean spoke up. “Who the fuck are you?”

The woman turned her eyes on him and Cas shifted uncomfortably. He was holding several reusable grocery bags in his hands. “Dean, this is Zara. My, uh, betrothed.”

“Your what?” Dean spluttered and the woman—Queen Zara, apparently—started down the stairs, her dress and cloak sweeping behind her. 

“You must be Dean Winchester,” she said. “Castiel told me about you.” Reaching the bottom of the staircase, she extended her hand palm down, and Dean stared at it. He settled on shaking it, unsure whether she was expecting him to bow or kiss her hand. 

“Sorry, can we back up for a second?” He looked up at Cas who was following the other Djinn down the stairs. “Did you say betrothed?”

“Yes,” Zara answered brightly. 

“Okay,” Dean said, slowly, unsure if he was understanding this correctly. Cas looked a little guilty. “Care to elaborate, Cas?”

“I may have technically become married to Zara when I went in search of the fruit of the Tree of Life.” Dean raised his eyebrows, and he added, “And I may have forgotten to tell you.”

“You forgot to tell me?” Dean repeated. 

“I was going to,” Cas said. “But then we ended up in that cartoon with the talking dog and there was so much going on—”

“If I may,” Zara interjected, and Dean realized Zara and the man, presumably her bodyguard, were watching them go back and forth. “I see there’s been a miscommunication. See, when Castiel arrived for negotiations to obtain the fruit of the Tree of Life, we Djinn were in the middle of a war. I asked for Castiel’s hand in marriage in exchange for giving him the fruit, and we pledged ourselves to each other, agreeing to hold the official binding ceremonies later when the war didn’t require all my focus.” 

Dean glared at Cas. Pledged themselves to each other? Cas ducked his head with a sheepish look and set his grocery bags on the table.

Unbothered, Zara continued, “Now that the war has ended, I am able to turn my thoughts towards finalizing our relationship. I came to reunite with dear Castiel and bring him back to my kingdom for our official wedding ceremony.”

“Hold on,” Dean spoke up. “Wedding? Bring him back—Cas ain’t gonna marry you.”

Zara’s eye twitched. “I think that’s up to Castiel, isn’t it, Dean?”

Dean looked to Cas for help, who spoke up, “I’m afraid Dean is right, Zara. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I realized the extent of the commitment I made. I can’t marry you.”

Dean eyed Zara and her bodyguard, tensing for a fight, but Zara’s reaction was only to smile and pat Cas’ shoulder. 

“It’s no surprise that you would feel that way, Castiel,” she said. “We hardly know each other, after all. I confess, part of my reasoning for journeying here was to see the real you, to learn about you. I’m eager for us to grow closer during our time together.”

“During our time—” Dean was interrupted by Zara clapping her hands. Instantly, the bunker door opened to admit a line of other Djinn who filed down the stairs, all carrying baskets or trunks or cases.

Dean stared at them. “What the fuck…” 

“There’s more of them,” Cas said unhelpfully.

“Alright, we need to talk.” Grabbing Cas’ arm, Dean pulled him into the adjacent hallway. “Stay right there!” he told Zara, jabbing his finger at her.

“Dean, I’m sorry,” Cas started as Dean dragged him into the hallway. 

“Dude, what the fuck? Getting freaking engaged to a Djinn isn’t just something you forget to tell us about!”

“I was preoccupied!” Cas protested.

“And now you’re gonna let them into the bunker? Are you crazy?”

“They’re not a threat, Dean. Zara is very different from the Djinn we’ve encountered before.”

Footsteps sounded behind them and Dean turned to see Sam running over. “What’s going on out here, what’s all that noise?”

“We’ve been invaded by the Djinn,” Dean said, and Sam’s eyes widened. 

“What? How? I’ll grab guns—”

“No, Sam.” Cas put out his hand to stop Sam from bolting down the hallway. “It’s not like that, they’re friendly.”

“Oh, so now you’re buddies with them?” Dean asked. 

Cas shot him a look and started explaining the situation to Sam. Shaking his head, Dean peeked out through the doorway to watch the Djinn pile their belongings on the map table, Zara giving instructions. 

Preoccupied? Really? Then again, communication never had been one of his and Cas’ strengths. 

There were about ten other Djinn besides Zara and her bodyguard. One of the men set down a large trunk and Dean winced at the scuffing noise it made on the floor. Then the man opened the trunk and Dean startled, realizing it was filled with weapons and blades.

“Hey!” he protested, storming into the room. “No weapons allowed in here. You don’t wanna start something with us, this is our home turf.”

The bodyguard stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, but Zara only laughed. “This is a friendly visit, Dean, I assure you. These items are for Castiel, as part of my dowry.” She brightened, seeing Sam and Cas enter the room. “Sam Winchester, I presume?” She extended her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Sam took her hand and made an awkward nod, half bow. “Um, uh, pleasure."

“Charming,” Zara said with a laugh. She looked at Cas. “You were right, he does have such beautiful hair.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Zara motioned around the room. “As you can see, we’ve brought quite a few things. Would you mind having your attendants show mine to the cookery? We brought food for a feast.”

“Um, we don’t have attendants,” Cas said. He looked to Dean for help, and when Dean didn’t offer any assistance—Cas was the one who had gotten them into this mess—he said, “I can show you around.” 

He headed off with Zara, her attendants holding baskets of food, and her bodyguard, who cast a suspicious look at Dean before following. 

Dean glared at their retreating backs. “A feast? What the hell is happening?”

“She seems nice,” Sam commented. 

“Nice? Did you miss the part where she’s engaged to Cas?”

“Yeah. Weird.” He started for the library. “I think we have a few books on Djinn. I wonder how binding their engagements are.”

Dean stared at his retreating back, then at the doorway where Cas and the Djinn had left through. “What the hell is going on?” he asked aloud.

A peek into the kitchen showed the Djinn plating food and cooking—Dean had to force himself to walk away before he started a war with them by barging in and demanding they stop touching his stove.

He followed Zara’s annoyingly regal voice to the hallway outside the bedrooms where Cas was apparently giving a tour to her and her bodyguard.

“How many people live here?” she asked as Dean walked over.

“Just the four of us,” Jack said. 

Oh, so now Jack was in on it too. He smiled, noticing Dean. “Dean! You should try these cookies.” He held up something that looked suspiciously like what the Djinn had been putting on plates in the kitchen.

So now they were bribing his family with food? Crossing his arms, Dean said, “I don’t know if you noticed, Zara, but we weren’t exactly expecting you or your, uh, attendants. Just how long are you planning to stay here?”

“At least a week,” she answered, shattering any hope that they might be gone by 6pm. “Cas was just showing us all these extra bedrooms where we can stay.”

Dean glared at Cas, who avoided his eyes and motioned to Zara to follow him down the hallway. “Um, over here is where we keep archival documents,” he said.

Jack made to follow and Dean grabbed his elbow. “What’s her deal?” he asked, watching Zara and her bodyguard follow Cas down the hallway. 

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, following his gaze.

“She barges in here with a dozen Djinn saying she’s engaged to Cas? Are they trying to infiltrate us? Can you tell if she’s evil?”

“She isn’t saying she’s engaged, she is engaged to Cas.” Jack finished off his cookie. “Cas told me, when he came back from Zara’s kingdom.”

“He told you?” And not me? he wanted to add. 

Maybe it was implied on his face because Jack looked mildly uncomfortable. “I can tell, she isn’t evil. She’s friendly.”

“What else did Cas say about her?” Dean asked, trying not to sound too interested or concerned. No need to panic; Cas had only gotten engaged to obtain the Tree of Life fruit. Not like Cas was actually into the Queen.

“Cas said she was very nice, but that he was in a rush and didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. I don’t think he thought she would come after him.”

“Yeah, he looks real concerned,” Dean muttered, hearing Cas’ voice echo down the hallway along with Zara’s laughter. 

Wiping crumbs off his hands, Jack said, “I’m gonna get another cookie.”

 Stopping to grab his gun first, Dean followed Jack back to the kitchen. He swore, if the Djinn made a mess… But the room was empty and surprisingly clean for the amount of activity that had just been going on in there. 

They followed the sound of voices to the library where the tables had been pushed together and covered in platters and dishes. Dean stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Cool!” Jack exclaimed, going over to a plate stacked high with cookies.

“I told them we could have the feast in here,” Sam said at Dean’s elbow and Dean startled.

“You told them—” Fuming, he glared at the Djinn talking to Jack. “What’s the verdict? How many do I gotta kill to get Cas out of this engagement?”

“Put the gun away, you don’t have to kill anyone. According to a book I found, as long as Zara agrees to call the engagement off before the wedding begins, Cas isn’t tied to her.�� He gestured to the book shelves. “You know, this isn’t such a bad thing, them being here. We've never actually gotten to talk to any Djinn before, and the Men of Letters don’t have much information on them.”

“Of course you’d be a nerd about this,” Dean complained. He nodded at where Zara was entering the room talking with Cas. “Don’t think she’s gonna give Cas up that easily. She already seems pretty attached.”

“I’m sure Cas will talk to her, let her know this is all a misunderstanding. In the meantime, try to be friendly, okay? We can’t risk getting the Djinn on our bad side.”

“We could take them,” Dean said and Sam gave him his patented bitch face. He huffed. “Fine.”

A clinking noise drew Dean’s attention to where Zara was standing at the head of the table, tapping a glass with a spoon. The room grew quiet and she announced, “I want to say thank you to the Winchesters and my betrothed Castiel for so graciously welcoming us into their home. I hope this meal marks the beginning of a wonderful alliance between us Djinn and the hunters. Now let us eat!”

Everyone moved to take a seat, Zara gesturing for Cas to sit at her right hand side. Dean pointedly took a spot close by to keep an eye on her. “I think you’ll enjoy this dish,” Zara said, passing him a bowl. “Cas tells me you’re the cook here.”

“Uh—” Dean took the bowl and ladled what looked like mashed potatoes on his plate. “When’d he have time to tell you that?”

Zara waved her hand. “We talked some when he came to my kingdom. He told me all about you and your brother and why you needed the Tree of Life’s fruit. I must thank you for saving the world quite a few times.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam spoke up. 

Cas had been telling Zara about him? Inconsequential stuff, like that he cooked? Gathering himself, he said, “You know, we’ve encountered plenty Djinn before you.” He ignored the death stare Sam shot at him. “Had to kill plenty too. You wanna tell me how I’m supposed to trust you? What’s stopping you from poisoning all of us?”

Sam cleared his throat and the bodyguard standing behind Zara’s chair glowered at Dean. Dean glared back.

“Those Djinn were not part of my kingdom,” Zara said solemnly. “Our most sacred law is to never bring anyone harm. If I had found those Djinn you speak of, they would’ve been brought to a swift justice.” She glanced at Cas. “I’ve already gained the trust of Castiel, I'd hoped I had your trust as well.”

“You do,” Sam said quickly, side-eying Dean. “Dean’s just being, uh, cautious.”

Cas nodded, and across the table, Jack tore into his meal, seemingly not worried at all that the Djinn had prepared it. Sam gave Dean a pointed look and Dean rolled his eyes. So, Zara and her crew weren’t evil and apparently didn’t mean them any harm. Didn’t mean Dean was going to fall over himself trying to be friends. 

Ignoring Sam’s record-setting bitch face, he hesitantly started eating, finding to his annoyance that Zara was right. This food was pretty damn good.

He kept his mouth shut throughout the rest of dinner. Zara answered Sam’s questions about her kingdom, about the community the Djinn had created in the mountains, hidden from humans. According to her, it was “Heaven on Earth.”

Scowling, Dean drank from the goblet in front of him. Some kind of concoction he wasn’t sure he liked or not. Zara sure was laying it on thick. When she mentioned royal gardens, Dean saw the moment interest flared in Cas’ eyes. 

For fuck’s sake. Of course Zara loved to garden. Bet she had a whole bee farm, or whatever they called those. Anything to get in Cas’ pants, no doubt. 

He tried another sip from the goblet and grimaced. No, not good, he decided. Way too similar to the healthy crap Sam was always eating. Cas asked about the plants Zara had in her gardens, and Dean wondered why Cas had never planted a garden here at the bunker. He was always talking about the benefits of spending time in nature since, apparently, they didn’t get enough sunlight living in an underground bunker. Then again, Dean hadn’t ever really taken Cas’ talk about gardens and sustainability seriously. He categorized Cas’ interest in plants and bees as just another example of what a dork he was. A powerful angel of the Lord, but a dork all the same.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” Zara told Cas as a few of her attendants served what Dean guessed was some kind of Djinn desert, some weird pale pudding. She leaned forward and took one of Cas’ hands, and Dean clenched his own hands into fists under the table. 

Zara stroked her thumb over Cas’ knuckles. “Now that our tribe is at peace with our warring siblings to the North, we are looking to expand relations with other kinds. Humans, for instance, and angels. I think you can be a strong ally in making that happen.”

“I can try,” Cas said. He looked uncomfortable, staring at her holding his hand, and Dean remembered sitting across him in a brothel, trying to get him laid on possibly his last night on Earth. Good times. Even after years of being on Earth and talking to women, Cas never lost the deer in the headlights look when one of them showed interest in him. The sight gave Dean a strange satisfaction. Zara had no chance with Cas. 

She was going to give it her best shot, though. As if a feast wasn’t enough, after dinner, Zara presented Cas with gifts—ornate swords and knives with gilded handles, books detailing the Djinn history and folklore, robes and cloaks like the ones Zara and her entourage wore. Cas kept a polite smile on his face, but Dean saw the increasingly overwhelmed look in his eyes at the sheer amount of gifts.

Dean felt similarly overwhelmed and, somewhere along the line, he decided he’d had enough of Zara doing her damndest to impress Cas, touching his arm at any given chance. She had Sam and Jack under her spell too, it seemed, because neither of them were bothered by the ridiculous show she was putting on. 

Even when he left the library and shut the door to his room, voices and laughter carried down the hallway. He was glad everyone else was having a good time and completely ignoring the absurdity of this situation. Cas? Engaged? And to royalty? 

Seething, he sat on his bed and turned on the TV, trying to distract himself. He didn’t know how much time had passed before he realized he was watching an infomercial for a nonstick pan. 

A knock on his door sounded and he swore under his breath. “Go away, Sam,” he called. If he had to get another lecture about hospitality…

“It’s just me.”

Dean straightened, said, “Come in,” and Cas opened the door, holding a grocery bag. 

“I know, I know,” Dean said. “Don’t be rude to our guests, blah blah blah. I get it.”

“You were very rude to Zara,” Cas agreed, shutting the door behind him. “She’s only trying to be kind.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah. Kind. That’s all.” Cas stared at him, cocking his head, and Dean rolled his eyes. Of fucking course Cas would be oblivious to Zara flirting with him. “You finally get through the fuckton of gifts she brought?”

Cas sighed. “It was too much. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it all.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Sam will be up early organizing everything.” He nodded at the bag in Cas’ hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh, um,” Cas glanced down at it. “I thought you might want this.”

Dean took it from him and looked inside. The pie and beer he’d requested from the grocery store earlier that day. “Thanks,” he said. 

Cas stepped closer to the bed, then hesitated. Dean motioned for him to sit and Cas did so on the edge of the bed, away from Dean’s legs. He glanced at the TV. “We should have another movie night soon. We haven’t had one in a long time.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He was pretty sure Cas was just trying to appease him, though he didn’t know why. He was the one who’d been rude to Zara, Cas’ “betrothed.”

He opened a beer and watched Cas out of the corner of his eye, heart starting to quicken a little, as it always did when he was alone with him. It was ridiculous, because he and Cas were just friends. Obviously. He didn’t know why he had to remind himself so often. 

Cas twisted a loose thread on his trenchcoat sleeve. “Dean,” he started.

“Your girlfriend’s gonna start looking for you soon,” Dean interrupted. Cas lifted his head and squinted at him. “She sure is trying to impress you, going on and on about her kingdom.”

“It's a very beautiful place,” Cas said. “I wouldn’t mind visiting again. But I wouldn’t want to live there.” He studied him and Dean looked away, picked at lint on the comforter. “Dean, she may be trying to impress me, but I have no intention of marrying her, I never did. This whole situation is an unfortunate accident.” 

Dean cleared his throat. “Right. Yeah. Of course.” Obviously. I know that. Didn’t mean Zara fawning over Cas didn’t make his skin crawl. 

Cas looked like he wanted to say more, but he stood. “I suppose I should return to the library. Are you coming?” 

“Uh, yeah, in a bit,”

Cas left and Dean stared at the closed door, then down at his pie. It shouldn’t matter what Cas did, who he was interested in, who flirted with him. Not like Dean had any say in the matter, not like they were dating or something—which was not an option. Because Cas was just a friend. His best friend, but a friend all the same.

Sighing, he picked up his pie and beer before he left his room. He was going to need them if he was going to have to watch Zara and Cas interact. 

*** 

The next day, Zara and her entourage showed no signs of going home. Dean ran into several of them in the bathroom down the hall, two sitting in the kitchen talking to Jack, and four more in one of the archival rooms helping Sam—as Dean had suspected—catalogue Cas’ gifts.

Zara and Cas he found talking in the library, continuing a conversation from last night about agricultural practices in her kingdom. Apparently there was a lot to say on the topic. Last night, before going to bed, Zara had made some cheeky remark about waiting after the official wedding ceremony to consummate her and Cas’ marriage, and Dean had wanted to rip her head off. It only made things worse that apparently Cas wasn’t bothered by that remark, but of course not—Zara liked gardening and was cultured and had given him a million and one presents. There was no real reason to hate her, though that wouldn't stop Dean. 

He paused in the library’s doorway, before Cas and Zara could spot him, and caught the tail end of what Zara was saying,

“I know that you are distanced from Heaven, as evidenced by you living with hunters.” 

Dean bristled at the underlying meaning in her words—Cas had no place with him and Sam. They were just gross humans. 

Zara continued, “We have many in my kingdom who have been displaced from their homes, who are no longer a part of their own. I think you will find us to be an accepting community.”

“I’m sure I would,” Cas said, and Dean’s heart sunk. “But Heaven hasn’t been my home in a long time. This is my home now.”

Dean felt a little stunned at his words. Cas said it so emphatically. As if the bunker wasn’t just a place he’d ended up, but somewhere he chose to be, wanted to be.

Making a U-turn, he grabbed his keys and jacket and took Baby out for a drive. Unfortunately, even the rushing wind through the windows and the blaring music on the radio couldn’t distract him from his thoughts. 

Did Cas really think of the bunker as home? Here? With him and Sam and Jack? Well, of course, he told himself. Cas lived here, didn’t he? 

It was more than that, though, Dean knew. Cas had rebelled against Heaven to help them. Stuck by their sides for years. If this wasn’t his home, then where else?

And who did Zara think she was? She thought Cas needed a home, that she could give him one. As if they weren’t good enough for him. Well, Dean knew Cas deserved a lot better, but they got along pretty well. Had been through enough shit together, at least.

Zara had met Cas only once; she hadn’t stopped apocalypses and faced demons with him. Dean knew Cas better than anyone, or so he liked to think. Cas knew him better than anyone, at least. 

That’s what this is, he told himself. Why Zara annoyed him so much. He was just pissed that Zara thought she knew what was best for Cas. It didn’t matter that Cas seemed to get along well with her, that she had so much in common with him, that she wanted to marry him. Technically, if Cas wanted to marry her too, that wasn’t a problem either. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter and glared out at the road. Not a problem.

When the sky was dark, he returned from his drive to a quiet bunker. Zara and her attendants were nowhere to be seen, and as he came down the stairs, Cas walked into the war room.

“Where were you?” he asked, stopping short.

Dean shrugged. “Just out for a drive.” He held out a plastic bag. “Here.”

Frowning, Cas took it from him and pulled out two packets of seeds. “Tomato seeds?” he asked, studying them. 

“Just thought, I don’t know. You’re always talking about nature and whatever. You could start a garden outside. If you want.”

Cas looked up at him, some unreadable emotion on his face. Dean almost asked if a garden was still in the works, or if Cas had started to envision the Djinn gardens. “Figure even if you don’t eat you should contribute to dinner,” he said instead. “Start growing food.”

Cas smiled and looked back at the seeds. “Thank you, Dean. That's very thoughtful of you.” 

Dean felt his face heat. Looking around, he asked, “Where’s her majesty?”

“She went to bed.”

“She try to seduce you?”

Cas cocked his head. “No. Why would she?”

“Uh, maybe because she’s trying to marry you.”

“Well, I’m not marrying her. I think she understands that.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“I’ve made my intentions clear, Dean.”

“Right,” Dean said, not convinced. Cas studied him, the familiar, peculiar squint to his eyes and Dean nearly squirmed. Turning, he said, “I’m going to bed.”

He passed Sam in the hallway near the bedrooms. “Hey,” he said, not stopping.

“Dean,” Sam called, and he turned. “You alright? Where were you all day?”

“Just wanted to get away from our million visitors. I’m fine.”

“Is, um… Is everything alright with you and Cas? He was wondering where you went.”

Dean crossed his arms. “We’re fine. I mean, he brought the Djinn here, but nothing we can do about it now.”

“Right. Um. Well, it’s just…” Sam looked like he was choosing his words carefully. “You’ve been acting… Well, acting kinda weird around Zara and Cas.” Dean stared at him. “Like you’re jealous or something.”

“I’m not fucking jealous! What the hell is there to be jealous about?”

Sam raised his hands. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

“Well, you’re fucking wrong.” Sam started to speak, but Dean ignored him and turned on his heel, continued to his room. “I’m not fucking jealous,” he muttered under his breath.

I’m not jealous, he repeated to himself the next day, watching Zara and Cas talk over breakfast. Or the next, which played out the same way: too many strangers wandering the hallways, Zara taking up all of Cas’ attention. Not that Dean needed Cas’ attention; he just didn’t see how Cas could be so oblivious to Zara’s intentions.

Unless Cas wasn’t oblivious and he was actually interested in Zara.

Absurd, Dean told himself. But the idea sat heavy in his stomach anyway. I’m not jealous, he told himself again. He was starting to sound less convincing. 

***

“Hey where’s Cas?”

Zara looked up from where she and Sam were poring over books in the library. Sam frowned, looking around. “I haven’t seen him yet today.”

“If you find him, tell him to join us,” Zara said, “Sam and I are going through the Men of Letters’ books on the Djinn. I’m afraid there are quite a few historical inaccuracies.”

“Right, sure.” Leaving the library, Dean headed back through the hallways, wondering where Cas could’ve gone. He hadn’t left Zara’s side much in the five days she’d been here. 

Maybe he’s finally gotten annoyed with her, he thought hopefully.

When his search through the bunker proved futile, Dean had a thought and headed outside. Sure enough, a few yards from the bunker door, next to a bag of potting soil and a tray of small green containers, Cas sat cross legged on the grass holding one of the seed packets Dean had bought for him.

“Hey,” Dean said and Cas looked up at him.

“Hello.” He began placing the seeds into the containers and Dean stood there awkwardly, watching. Maybe planting the seeds was a sign; maybe this meant Cas was planning to stay. Or maybe it meant Cas was going to take his tomato plants with him to Zara’s kingdom.

When Cas remained silent, Dean started turning away to leave him to his planting. “You can fill this tray with soil,” Cas spoke up, stopping him.

“Um, okay.” Sitting down next to him, Dean scooped soil out of the bag with a shovel and poured it carefully into the planting containers. Cas smoothed soil over the seeds he'd planted.

“Zara and Sam sure are getting along well,” Dean said after a few minutes of silence. “They’re going through the books in the library right now. Apparently there’s a lot of ‘inaccuracies’ in them.”

“Hmm.” There was a smudge of dirt on Cas’ chin that Dean was more than tempted to wipe off. Looking away, he poured more dirt in the containers before he was idiotic enough to try.

The weather was warm, a breeze rustling the leafy tree branches around them. Dean wished he could relax, but being in such close proximity to Cas was making his pulse race, per usual. Maybe even more so now, considering the way he’d been feeling lately. Not jealousy, he told himself. Just, concern. Friendly concern for Cas. 

Unwittingly, he thought of the way Zara looked at Cas, spoke to him, touched him, and he gripped the shovel tighter in his hand. Okay. Fine. Maybe Sam was sorta right. Maybe he was a little jealous. It didn’t mean anything though.

Realizing Cas had stopped planting seeds, he glanced sideways at him. Cas was letting soil sift through his fingers, a crease between his brows and a seriousness in his gaze that didn’t match the gentle way his fingers moved through the dirt. Dean started to wonder if Cas had come out here to get away from everyone, if something was on his mind.

“You and your plants there wanna get a room?” he asked and, fuck, that wasn’t what he wanted to say. Words were hard.

Cas glanced at him, then his recently planted seeds, and dropped the dirt he was holding. Apropos of nothing, he said, “Zara said she’ll call off the engagement if I really want.”

Dean’s initial surge of relief faded away when Cas kept glaring at the soil. Since he was pretty sure the tomato seeds hadn’t done anything to bother him, he asked, suddenly nervous, “Do you want to call it off?” 

“Yes, Dean. I don’t want to marry her.” Looking away, he brushed dirt from his hands.

“But?” Dean pressed. 

Cas sighed. “But she wants me to come back with her. Just for a visit. And I don’t know if I should.” He reached for a watering can at his side. “Zara and the other members of her kingdom were very welcoming when I first visited, and I’ve enjoyed taking to Zara during her stay here, but we have work to do. I can’t just leave.”

They did have work to do, but that was nothing new. Dean looked around at the start of Cas’ garden, at the slight rise of dirt a few yards away that marked the bunker underground. Maybe this was home for Cas, but it couldn’t compare to a kingdom, not how Zara described it. Begrudgingly, he thought of Cas and Zara's similar interests and her descriptions of her kingdom and how perfect it would be for Cas.

“Maybe you should visit,” he said, hating the way the words felt in his mouth. Cas frowned at him and he added, “Not saying you should marry Zara, but sounds like a cool place.” One part of his brain screamed at him to shut up shut up shut up, but the other told him this was the mature thing to do. Give Cas the freedom to make up his own mind. 

Cas nodded, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know.” he said quietly. “But if you really think so...” 

“Yeah, of course,” Dean said, feeling a little sick. Ignoring the sensation, he pat Cas on the shoulder. “Whatever you want.” 

Take that, Sam. Could a jealous person do this? 

***

Encouraging Cas to leave with his Djinn friends may have been the mature thing to do, but that didn’t stop it from hurting like hell. Going back inside, Dean holed up into his room, not wanting to hear Zara’s gleeful excitement when Cas told her he was going back with her to her kingdom. He had a feeling Zara wasn’t going to be calling off the engagement anytime soon.

He didn’t emerge until that night, when sounds of conversation and activity had diminished outside his door. One thing he had to say for the Djinn, despite the number of them staying over, the bunker had never been cleaner and they’d all obeyed his command to stay out of the garage. Begrudgingly, he had to admit it wasn’t so bad having them over. If only Zara wasn’t actively trying to impress Cas. 

How many days had they been here? They’d probably be leaving soon. His stomach twisted at the thought, knowing they would take Cas with them.

Just for a visit, he told himself. He’ll be back.

He went into the library looking for a drink and found Zara and Cas poring over books side by side.

“Oh, hey,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

Cas looked up at him, a worried expression on his face. “Are you alright, Dean? You disappeared all day.”

Why does everyone keep asking me that? Going to a side table, he poured himself a drink. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“I’m sure it must be exhausting hosting so many visitors all week,” Zara said. You don’t know the half of it, Dean thought. “But don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.”

Dean turned, nearly spilling his whiskey. “Wait, what?” 

Zara smiled at him. “We’re returning to my kingdom tomorrow.”

He thought he’d have a few more days… “Tomorrow?” he managed. 

“Yes. I’m afraid I can’t stay forever, my people need me back home. And I know they will be waiting to hear news of my betrothed.” She pat Cas’ hand and Cas turned red.

“Oh. Right,” Dean managed. “Okay.”

He tried to say something else, then turned and left the room in a rush. Tomorrow. Cas was gonna leave and Dean had told him he should go. 

The kitchen was empty and he sat at the table, stared at the glass in his hand. 

I’m being an idiot, he thought. Cas can do whatever he wants, he doesn’t have to stay here. Probably been looking for an out for ages. 

Needing to do something with his hands, he stood and grabbed ingredients from the cupboards. Without really thinking about it, he started making a pie, mixing the ingredients with more force than was necessary. 

“Fucking ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath, rolling out the pie dough. Tell Cas to go to a Djinn kingdom, that’s smart. With Zara of all people? He’s gonna come back officially married to her, talking about the royal gardens. Or just not come back at all.

“Fuck,” he muttered, throwing open the fridge door to grab the butter.

“What’re you doing?”

Dean wheeled around to see Sam standing in the doorway. “What’s it look like?” He slammed shut the fridge door. “Making a goddamn pie.”

“At…” Sam leaned forward to see the time on the microwave. “2:14am?”

“Is it a crime to make a pie at 2am? I had a craving.”

“What are you, pregnant?”

Dean flipped him off and Sam leaned on the doorway. “Don’t see why you’re in such a bad mood. You should be glad; Zara’s leaving tomorrow. You’ve been bitching all week about the ‘invasion’.”

Pausing in draping the pie crust dough over the filling, Dean stared at him. Glad? Was no one else seeing the problem here? “What, you going with them too? Packed your bags yet? Zara seems to have put you under her spell too.”

Sam frowned. “Dean, you don’t think Cas—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean said quickly. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“Yeah, but you got this all wrong.” Straightening from the doorway, Sam came to the island. “Cas isn’t going with the Djinn.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he isn’t! Why the hell would he?”

Oh, I don’t know, Dean thought. Maybe because Zara is fucking perfect for him and knows exactly what he wants and knows how to actually talk to him and not act like a goddamn idiot every time he’s in the room.  

Furiously, he crimped the edges of the pie crust and accidentally tore a hole. “Son of a bitch!”

“Okay...” Sam said, watching him. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, but snap out of it. Cas isn’t going anywhere and maybe if you talked to him, you’d know that. Or even just stopped to think for a second.”

“Fuck off,” Dean said, and Sam threw up his hands.

“Fine,” he said, leaving the room. “But you’re freaking out over nothing.”

Dean glared at him and put his pie in the oven, sat back down. He’d done plenty of thinking and like it or not, it didn’t seem completely outside the realm of possibility that Cas would want to be with someone who understood him and appreciated him. Not that Dean didn’t understand or appreciate him, of course he did. Cas was his best friend and Cas had saved his life countless times and Cas was Cas—he was dorky and sarcastic and weird and considerate and too fucking earnest in a way that made Dean squirm while also being secretly jealous of how Cas could just say things and, and—

And fuck he wanted Cas to stay.

He didn’t know how long he stared at the table, but he startled when the timer beeped to announce his pie was done. He glanced at the oven, then looked around the empty room.

"I think I really like him," he said aloud.

 Taking the pie out of the oven, Dean grabbed plates and silverware and headed to the library, hardly knowing what he was doing, just hoping to find Cas. Thankfully, Cas was still there, sitting alone.

“Made pie,” Dean announced eloquently, setting everything down.

Cas looked up and shut the book he was reading. “Oh.”

Tossing his oven mitts to the side, Dean cut a slice and wordlessly slid the plate to Cas. Cas stared at him like he had two heads. “Figured you might want to try it,” he said. “See what the molecules taste like.” In truth, he was stalling. He didn’t know what to say to Cas, how to share his recent epiphany that yes, he was jealous, and yes, he did like his best friend, and yes, he was panicking a little.

Cas looked like he had a few questions, but he took the plate. “Thank you,” he said. 

“No problem.” Dean’s hands were sweating as he served himself his own slice and sat down across from Cas. He had been hungry before, but now his stomach clenched in anxiety, too many words rolling around in his head with no coherency. 

Cas picked up his fork and Dean figured the best way to start was with the truth. 

“Don’t go,” he blurted out.

Cas paused, fork poised midair. “What?”

Dean’s face flushed, but it was either speak now or regret it forever. “I know I said you should leave with Zara, but I didn’t mean it.”

Cas slowly lowered his fork, and it seemed speaking a few words broke down a wall in Dean’s mind because the rest came flooding out.

“I know I can be a real dick,” he said, “and I know I don’t know anything about gardening or agriculture, and I know I’ve been acting weird lately, but it’s because I really don’t want Zara to take you away from us. And maybe that’s selfish on my end—no, I know it is. But she doesn’t know you, really know you! And I do. I’ve known you forever and you’re my best friend and also maybe I wish we were more.” His face heated further, and he quickly added, “It’s alright if you don’t want more, that’s fine, just forget this conversation, but the main point is that I don’t want you to leave. I mean that. Please stay.”

Cas’ gaze had turned serious during Dean’s rambling, and Dean stopped there, heart pounding, mouth dry. He hadn’t expected to say all that, but he realized he meant what he’d said. Had meant all of it for a long time now, even if he’d been pretending not to. And maybe it was too late to tell Cas now. But he’d finally said it.

“Dean,” Cas said, and Dean braced himself for the I’m sorry, but... The, you suck and I’m leaving with Zara. Or even, you want more? That’s absurd. Why the hell would we ever be more than friends?

But what Cas said, instead, was, “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

Dean stared at him. And, yeah, he guessed he had told Cas to leave. But Cas should know by now that he was an idiot who usually said the wrong things. “I didn’t mean it,” he said. “I’ll go crazy if you leave, honest. I can’t…” He thought about how empty the bunker felt when Cas left for even a day, thought about how much it killed him to see Cas with Zara, and said, almost desperately, “I can’t do that. You leaving.”

Cas’ gaze had softened and his voice was quiet when he asked, “What do you mean by more?”

Dean’s heartbeat kicked up and he stared at his plate. Fuck. What did he mean? “I don’t know. Well, maybe I do. I just…” He took a deep breath and met Cas’ eyes. “I just want to be with you. Romantically, or whatever. More than just being friends.” He held Cas’ gaze even though his heart was pounding and a tiny voice in his brain screamed, abort mission, because it felt like such a relief to get the words out, albeit awkward and stilted.

Cas studied him and Dean’s pulse hammered in his chest as he waited for inevitable rejection. Instinct told him to backtrack, but now that he’d voiced everything, it seemed like torture to have to carry it all inside him again. He didn’t know how he’d done it for years. 

Then Cas spoke. “I want more too,” he said, like it was the easiest thing to say in the world. 

Dean stared at him. “You do?” he managed, and Cas nodded. 

“I was never going to leave, Dean. This,” he gestured around them. “This is my home. Here with you. I want to be with you too.”

“Oh,” Dean breathed. Cas never was going to leave. He started to feel a little ridiculous for his panicked pie baking, but a smile tugged at the corner of Cas’ mouth and Dean started smiling too. Cas wanted more.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” he asked and Cas nodded. He started pushing his chair back, then Dean was standing and meeting him by his chair. 

Raising his hand, he touched Cas’ cheek. He was feeling a little dizzy from the remarkable change of events in so short a time, but the look in Cas’ eyes anchored him. This is what he wanted, had been wanting. 

Cas’ eyes fell shut when he leaned down to kiss him, and Dean smiled a little before pressing his lips to Cas’, finally.

His brain short circuited a little when Cas kissed him back, and it was a second before he could process the way Cas was pressing up close to him, hands gripping at his shirt. Slipping his arms around Cas’ waist, he pulled him flush, chest to chest. Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat and wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean’s head spun.

They kissed until Dean couldn’t catch his breath, until he felt weak at the knees. He let out a breathless laugh when they broke apart, and Cas smiled at him.

“I’ve wanted more for a long time,” he said. “I didn’t think you did too.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean kissed him again, pausing to say, “I guess I just never admitted it to myself.”

“And you realized this while making pie?” Cas asked, gesturing to the dish on the table. 

“Yeah,” Dean admitted, a little sheepishly. “But better late than never, right?”

“Right,” Cas said with a smile and kissed him.

Dean kissed him back, then took his hand, tugged him to the hallway. Cas followed easily, smiling, and Dean couldn’t resist kissing him again along the way. 

They eventually made it to Dean’s bedroom, but Cas paused when Dean grabbed the doorknob. “Hold on.”

Letting go of Dean’s hand, he went to the room where Zara was staying and knocked on her door. 

After a few moments, she opened it in a silk nightgown. “Why, hello, Castiel,” she said smiling. “What a surprise.”

“I need you to annul our engagement,” Cas said and Zara’s smile froze. Dean bit back a grin. “Now,” Cas added.

“I—Um. I thought we would discuss this further at a later time. Perhaps allow you more time to decide—”

“I’ve decided.” Cas motioned to Dean, and Zara leaned out to see him standing there. Dean waved. “My home is here.”

Zara blinked at them and Dean stepped forward. “What he means is,” he snaked his hand around Cas’ waist, “he’s taken.”

Cas grinned at him and Zara looked mildly stricken, staring back and forth between them. Then resignation spread over her features and she smiled a little. “I see.” Waving her hand, she said, “Well, then. Consider yourself free of our engagement.” 

“Thank you,” Cas said. 

“Of course. It’s the least I can do to repay your hospitality. And I won’t stand in the way of true love.” She started to shut her door, then paused, looking at Dean, “And since I seem to be single once again, please tell your brother he is welcome to visit my kingdom anytime.” With a wink, she shut her door, and Dean stared at it for a moment.

“I don’t wanna unpack all that.” He looked at Cas and smiled a little. “You sure you don’t wanna marry her?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I’m sure.” And, as if to prove his point, he kissed Dean again. Then he pulled back to meet Dean's eyes. "You haven't been jealous all this time, have you?" 

"No," Dean said. Cas' eyes narrowed and Dean admitted, "Maybe a little." Okay, maybe a lot.

Tag List:

@becky-srs @xojo @marvelnaturalock @aelysianmuse @prayedtoyou @letsjustdieeveryone @good-things-do-happen-dean @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @theninthdutchessofhell @madronasky @famouspsychicpizzabandit @multifandomdisorder @arcticfox007 @mixtapecas @improvedpeanut @castiel-is-a-cat @harmonyhelms @thetrueliesofafangirl @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you @theangelwiththewormstache @confusedisaster @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @queen-rowenas (tagging you bc your post about the djinn queen sparked this idea :))

[lovelivingmydreams]

What is a happy ending?

So someone (looks sternly at @rondoel) thought giving me insight in a certain OC of theirs and making me feel things is an okay thing to do. That I won't proceed to write a heartbreaking epilogue to my two part Virgil king story. This one not as long. But still. Enjoy:

What is a happy ending?

"Why happily ever after?" King wondered aloud as He studied their latest piece of art.

No one had ever answered that question for Him. Not in a meaningful way at least. And it never truly stopped bothering Him.

"Your majesty?" Anxiety asked carefully. Probably not sure if he had been meant to hear. King wasn't so sure Himself.

Oh well. He might as well finish the thought. Something interesting might come from it.

"Happily ever after. It's so... boring. Why does everyone like it so much?" He had wondered so often...

Anxiety shrugged. "Princey loved that crap. He hated it when I called out the flaws, though he could be just as bad with plot holes.

It's not realistic at all and... well boring is one word for it." His tone and face could almost be mistaken for dismissive, but King could swear He spotted fondness in the upturn of Anxiety's mouth and a slight wistfulness in the shine of his eyes.

King however was more interested in this more nuanced perspective on the story trope. Answers at last?

Anxiety noticed his king desired for him to elaborate and immediately started fidgeting as he tried to find the words to express his thoughts sufficiently.

"I suppose... everyone thinks that's what they want?" His nerves turn the sentence into a question. "When they are little it's an easy goal. You find the one who'll make you whole, or defeat the villain, or both. And then nothing ever bothers you again.

It's not how life works though... and growing up... I think everyone still has a part of them that wants to hold on to things being that... simple..." Anxiety trailed off and looked up at king curiously. His face strangely focused as if he was looking for an answer himself.

"Simple?" King urged wanting to hear more. Anxiety was so close to making sense. So close to bringing about that wonderful feeling when curiosity was sated. A story complete at last.

"Um... yeah... I mean even I feel a little... I don’t know... it feels right?

When you do the right thing, even when it's hard and you get the stuff you want anyway. And when people who hurt you don’t win. You want the world to work like that. If not for you then at least for the servant girl, who just wanted a night off, or the waitress who just wanted to buy her father's dream restaurant. Hard work, kindness, patience... they should be rewarded right?" Anxiety explained. Sounding frustrated. "And..." he let out a resigned sigh before straightening up and continued more decidedly. "Since the world doesn't work that way... why not escape somewhere where it does?" It was passionate. Perhaps in defense of Roman's favorite thing in the world. Then that fight and righteous defiance fell away in favor of a nostalgic fondness. "Thomas did it all the time growing up," Anxiety sighed before returning his attention to the painting that had prompted the question. A Father's Day movie night.

Hugs and snacks and movies with happily ever afters galore. All of Morality's favorite things.

King had to admit it had... stung to discover that Morality had taken up the role He'd given him even after he betrayed everything that title stood for.

Had he ever felt even the slightest bit conflicted when hearing Roman calling him 'Padre'?

Or was it supposed to be fine, since he thought Roman was the only half of Him who felt attached to him that way?

Had it truly never occurred to him that while he took in the confused Roman, he left behind a disoriented and heartbroken Remus who didn't understand why daddy was ignoring him.

What had he done wrong?

Why did he never get bedtime stories or hugs from dad? Why was he shoved away, scolded, ignored?

Why was he not allowed to play in the imagination with his brother?

The last thought had plagued both halves for years.

Even Roman who had stopped admitting to it to please Morality felt conflicted during story times and hugs to this day.

Telling Thomas that he didn't want anything to do with his brother had hurt more than the bump on his head...

But all of that was in the past. They were gone and their unresolved issues were a waste of His time. He had berated, tormented, Anxiety over this. He would not fall victim to such sentimentalities Himself.

"I see... escapism then?" He muttered, trying to get back on topic and not to show the... somewhat emotional turn His thoughts had taken.

Like His halves, His 'Padre' was gone. He probably never existed in the first place.

And Morality would pay for that betrayal and the way he abandoned Remus and how he made Roman fight to earn his love, only to abandon him as well. His suffering had only just begun.

Not because it still mattered. But... any excuse to justify and fuel His wrath even a little bit more was good enough for Him.

He'd probably avenge slights against his minister simply to feign kinship and watch the traitors squirm under his rule just a bit more. Not that he needed a reason to do anything. But justified rage was so much more satisfying to set loose. Because the targets would feel, deep down, they brought this upon themselves.

"Yeah... there's enough crappy stuff going on in the world right? Thomas... wants to use his talents to make people smile. And while that's cheesy, it's also... well it's him," Anxiety shrugged. King hummed in agreement as He framed the picture and put it away. He'd barely paid attention honestly. The answer was satisfactory. But there was a new question on His mind. As He mused over His minister's attachments to His enemies and how to sever them He recalled something intriguing about his recent behavior.

Anxiety had been pulling away from Morality. Why? What had caused a crack in 'the bestest most dynamicest duoest duo'?

And was this something he could use to forge an allegiance. Or to hurt Morality as deeply as He'd been hurt. Or, ideally, both?

King smirked to Himself as He laid a gentle hand on Anxiety's shoulder. He asked about a drawing of the young side and Thomas. He was pleased to note that His minister no longer shrank away every time He moved in his general direction. He might not be comfortable with His touch yet, but he was getting used to it. Something that would surely get to the others who still tiptoed around Anxiety's boundaries.

Maybe, at some point, he could be made to truly see things His way. To see the traitors for the villains they were. Just the thought of the chaos that this realization would unleash... It would be magnificent.

Morality had forgotten something important about 'happily ever after's.

Bad guys don’t get them. And the victor is always the hero.

It was only right that King reminded him of the shadow side of his favourite ending.

By making him live it.

Virgil knew that it was a bad thing that he found himself enjoying talking about his memories to the king and watching them turn into pretty cool paintings.

He was Anxiety, this was definitely a crisis. He can't relax now, not around the reason of said crisis... but if he doesn't relax a little his thoughts might do something really bad. And if he doesn't do whatever the king wants, then the king might do something bad.

So he had to balance on this weird edge of anxious, but cool with it.

The others were counting on him. To stay safe, to keep it together, to keep King distracted, to find a way to get him to lay off a little...

"Worthless." And... the thing is back.

"Dude, seriously, not now!" He snapped at his... shadow.

King just looked on intrigued. Great. Now the shadow had King's attention.

"Failure," it hissed. Right... King is not his biggest problem right now.

So far the shadow had only been mildly annoying even quiet for the most part. But clearly anxious thoughts made it remember it could be a pain in the behind. And worst thing is it got to Virgil even more because it laid out his true fears for King to see and use against him.

"You... you are just... you're just a thought. You can't hurt me." Virgil insisted.

Thomas could deal with his irrational fits. Surely he could manage this thing, right?

"Monsssster," the shadow hissed. No he didn't think that anymore!

"Guardian!" Virgil bit back. Patton said so, Logan said so, Roman said so, Thomas said so... why cant he just believe them?

He found himself struggling to breath again. The thoughts... they were real now... what if they could hurt him...? Can he die? What would happen to Thomas?

"Begone!" Virgil snapped out of his near attack at the sudden outburst from King.

What...?

He looked up just in time to see a flash of metal and shadow's dissolving figure.

"It'll reform later," King muttered as he sheeted his sword.

"It became too bothersome. You should not let your creations have power over you young one. You are their master, don't forget that," he instructed calmly, not looking at him.

Did he just...?

"Return to your business now, I find that I am in need of a break," he then declared as he walked away, still not looking back.

"But..." he came to a halt. "Should you wish to finish our gallery... I might be willing to indulge your presence later."

Virgil didn't quiet know what to do, so he bowed, just in case the king could see it somehow. "Y-yes my king. Thank you," he stammered hurriedly.

When he looked up, the king was gone.

And Virgil ran. He needed to find Lo and Pat before the shadows returned.

His thoughts were a confused mess... he hadn't imagined that right?

King had really stepped in to save him instead of letting Virgil's punishment, gift, curse, whatever run its course...

And then he left it up to Virgil to decide if and when they'd finish up.

There was probably some messed up reason behind it... but still.

Virgil wasn't stupid though. Even if saving him had been a purely noble impulse, King hadn't undone his 'gift' to make sure it wouldn't happen again. Telling him to put his foot down with 'his own creations' didn't really count.

King still messed up real bad and would have to do something pretty impressive to make up for all of that.

And Virgil was pretty sure that it wasn't just his pessimism talking when he thought that the king was no where close to wanting to make nice with any of them.

Or not for the right reasons anyway.

He shook his head. He can worry about all that later. Right now he has to find the others. Before King runs into one of them.

Virgil's trip down memory lane might've been deemed 'entertaining' or whatever, but he hadn't be around for whatever had happened to make the king be out for blood in the first place.

He didn't want to find out what King's idea of 'having fun' was when it came to Pat, Lo or even Janus. Whatever they did, it was still his duty to protect Thomas. Physically, socially, mentally and emotionally. Whether he wanted him to or not.

And not even King was going to stop him from fulfilling his purpose.

@antiredhuman you wanted to be tagged if I wrote more for this au so here you go! Hope you like it!

[thejolexgroupchat]

the one where they met in med school - part twenty-six

bacon and babies

(June 2009)

“You’ve got to eat more bacon.”

Both Jo and Mark looked down at Alex’s quiet comment, “What?”

“You stop yourself from doing a lot of crap that you want to do in life. I’m probably dying right now, and I’m telling you, you’ve got to eat more bacon. Have more sex. Tell the people you love that you love them,” Alex gasped softly for breath.

“Okay, I’ll eat more bacon,” Mark replied. “But you’ve got to hang in there because Lexie is gonna be back any minute. She had to go to the blood bank and back. And you’re supposed to be getting married soon. You’re having a baby, Alex. Jo is pregnant and scared and lost, so you can’t leave her alone.”

“Alex, you’re not dying. Not yet. It’s too early, okay?” Jo attempted to get his attention. "You're going to become a kickass peds surgeon, remember? We have plans. So many plans for a life and a home together. It's not your time yet. We're gonna die when we're ninety years old, lying together in bed, passing in our sleep. That's what we agreed on. You can't go before I do. I won't make it. You're all I've got, Alex. You're my only family."

"That's not true," Alex mustered enough strength to place his hand on Jo's still flat stomach. "We have this baby now, too. We did it, Jo."

"Yeah, we did. We made a baby," Jo let out a watery laugh. "Just like we talked about."

"I'm gonna fight, Jo. I'm gonna fight because I don't want to miss a thing. I told you. I want it all with you. I’ve wanted it all with you since that day in the bar almost six years ago when we got drunk and swapped stories about our crappy childhoods.”

“Me too,” Jo wiped some straying tears from her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Alex leaned into her and slowly closed his eyes.

***

“What the hell is taking her so long?” Mark huffed in frustration as he watched the minutes go by. “She should’ve been back by now.”

“She’s coming. She said she was going to get it and be safe and quick,” Jo took a deep breath.

“I’m going to go look for her. She shouldn’t be taking this long,” Mark began to stand up.

“No! Sloan, please. Just give her a few more minutes. I’m sure she’s fine and she’s trying to be careful and quiet, which is why she isn’t back yet,” Jo tried reasoning with Mark. “She’s smart and resourceful. Give her a chance. Besides, the closest blood bank isn’t even on this floor.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mark nodded. He looked around the room anxiously. “I’m sorry. I should be taking care of Alex, not worrying about Lexie.”

“Hey. There’s no need to apologize. There’s a shooter loose in the hospital. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t worried,” Jo took a second to truly observe the worry lines etched onto Mark’s face and his tense body language. “You love her.”

“Huh?”

“You love her, Lexie. You actually love her,” Jo repeated.

“Of course I do,” Mark looked at her strangely. “I’ve loved her for the better part of a year now.”

“I know, I just… I’m not sure why it just hit me but it did,” Jo shrugged. “I knew you cared but I guess I never realized how deep it was from your part.”

“You know how you feel about Karev? Well, that’s how I feel about Lexie,” Mark looked down at Alex’s unconscious frame. “I don’t know how you’re still standing after today. If it were me standing over Lexie’s body, I would’ve lost the will to live right along with her.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’m a wreck. The only reason I’m still standing is because I’m trying to keep this baby safe and make sure Alex lives to see tomorrow,” Jo attempted a laugh. “If not, I’d be lying on the conference table too.”

“God, that’s right, you’re pregnant. Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Mark asked. “I saw you leaning over with your hand over your stomach a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was just morning sickness,” Jo waved it off. “I haven’t thrown up yet, but the nausea is killer.”

“I can imagine,” Mark cracked a smile. “Kids are good things. Sloan is one of the best things to happen to me and even though I don’t see her often, she knows she’s got me. I want to have more kids one day. Kids that hopefully, I’d get to raise. I want those with Lexie. But she’s still really hurt that I chose my daughter over her.”

“She’ll come around eventually. She loves you. Truly,” Jo placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “She’s never loved anyone this much. But, she just needs a chance to understand why you made that choice. Sure, it sucked that you never spoke to her about it, but in that moment you became Sloan’s dad… being someone’s parent changes things. Your loyalties, your priorities. Everything shifts after that. I’m feeling all of those feelings and I’ve only known about my kid for a few hours.”

Mark chuckled softly, “I can’t believe you and Alex are going to be the first to become parents. I never would’ve seen that coming.”

“We’ve been talking about it for a while now,” Jo smiled sadly. “We both want it so badly. And I’m just terrified that I’m going to be the only one who lives long enough to see it.” She held back some tears. “I can’t do this without him. I know everyone says that but for me, it’s different. I never pictured this until he came into my life. I always thought that I was too broken. But then he said this thing that completely changed my perspective on my past. It was back in med school during my third year when I was interviewing for residency programs. I was having some serious imposter syndrome because of my childhood and past trauma, and I was ready to drop out completely. That’s when he told me, ‘Jo. Did you ever think that maybe we have to get a little messed up before we can step up? You don’t get anywhere in life without struggle. This is your story. Own it. Overcome it.’  That’s when I knew that I was going to spend the rest of my life with him.  Because I knew I could overcome anything as long as I had him by my side to remind me that I don’t have to apologize for my story. He made me brave. He makes me brave. That’s why I can’t do this on my own; why I don’t want to do this on my own. That’s why I need him to live. I love him and he’s gotta live to raise this kid and make him or her brave too.”

“You know, for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty brave all on your own,” Mark squeezed one of Jo’s hands gently.

“Thanks.”

we were robbed by a Mark / Jo friendship and we will stand by that. 

Let us know what you think in the comments!

[hatchetfieldtheories]

Return to Hatchetfield-Town - TGWDLM Part 3

Have I been putting off this part because of sad Bill? Maybe.  Or is it because of all your amazing Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theory submissions? Yeah, you were right the first time.  I just can’t deal with sad Bill.

We left part 2 of the TGWDLM rewatch where the Scooby Gang had turned up at the spooky mansion, which can only go well, and we come back in part 3 as they’ve left the tied up resident bad guy alone with the one person who has a weakness for said bad guy.

Links to previous parts

It’s Ted loving time and I make no apologies for it.

Am I the only one who saw the scene with Ted and Charlotte and immediately got sent back to MAMD’s Joey and Sally?  It’s so good seeing Joey and Jaime acting opposite each other like this again, they both bring the same amount of chaotic brilliance.  

I have no jokes to make for this, I just needed a gif of the “slap” here.  Beautiful.  Iconic.

Here we see a bit of the true Ted, the Ted we see in Time Bastard.  He’s an idiot sure, but its obvious he is actually a hopeless romantic who really cares for Charlotte, underneath an exterior of “sleazeball”. 

When I originally read what happens in Time Bastard I will admit it didn’t really fit with the image I had in my head of Ted.  Ted is first and foremost played for laughs.  He’s selfish and arrogant and funny.  But rewatching TGWDLM, especially with Time Bastard in mind, you do see where Joey let’s Ted’s façade drop.  You see it at a greater extent later when Charlotte dies and Ted goes off on one to Bill.  But you also see it here (I’m sorry Ted fans):

Serious gifs, who is she?

Now. What’s happening in this next little scene? Are we ready for some tin foil hatting?

What do you want Charlotte?

Continuing our theme of characters explaining what they want in clear and certain terms, Charlotte starts praying to God, then Sam wakes up.  Was Sam waiting for everyone else to leave before “waking up” in order to target Charlotte?  Or were Charlotte’s prayers answered by an Eldritch being with the capability to control the Creedy Chorus?  Later Sam says that he “saw god”.  

In Black Friday, Linda attempts to issue in the “birth of a god.”  God is certainly a word the Devil Dolls are happy to attribute to themselves.  Somehow I don’t think it would have mattered if they had gone to a Methodist or Presbyterian church.

Opinion time: Tied Up My Heart is a full on rock bop and deserves way more praise and acclaim. You could have told me this song was from Rock of Ages and I would believed you.

“Don’t you twust me” – serious Wiggly vibes there Sam.

This is kinda catchy Sam!

In part two we briefly discussed when Hidgens became infected, and there is some theories that believe he was infected from the moment he touched the blue brain goo, leading to Show Stopping Number happening.

Charlotte was infected the minute she touched Sam’s brains.  Like Hidgens, it happened slowly, but its very clear it had begun to take root in this song.  Tied Up My Heart is to Charlotte, what Let It Out is to Paul.  They both find themselves dancing without meaning to, they both begin to hear the music.  I’ve mentioned previously that Tied Up My Heart is the only song in which there is an offstage chorus, which would be strange unless for the first time we’re hearing the show as Charlotte is hearing it – she’s beginning to hear the rest of the Hive.

 The only difference between Charlotte and Paul is their wants during these pivotal numbers.  Paul is trying harder to fight the song because his want is to destroy the meteor.  Charlotte isn’t able to fight the song because her want is Sam… and the song is giving her that. 

I think this is the part of the musical where most people pause and proclaim… what the hell am I watching. Which, you know… valid.

Can anyone tell me what foreshadowing is?

Ted just casually predicting the ending of the show.  Take out the head and the whole thing falls down – an historically inaccurate statement in the proceedings of Hatchetfield’s apocalypses.

Exhibit A – Taking out the meteor does not stop the hive.

Exhibit B – Sending a Nuke into the Black and White does not stop Wiggly.

I don’t know what Nerdy Prudes will be about but heads up to the characters – maybe don’t try and destroy the root of the issue as your solution.

Obviously there is a lot of story in Emma and Paul’s discussion here, a lot of which gets unpacked and revisited in Forever and Always, but I’m not really going to delve into the specifics of it here.  My biggest take away from this conversation is that Emma explains her past, and her intentions for the future, but at no point is it ever clear what her want is. 

In a musical where character’s are killed because they want something, is it any wonder Emma is the one who survives at the end?  She doesn’t have any big, ultimate want.  She’s jaded and tired, until the end… when what she wants is for Paul to have survived.

This shows a clear distinction between how Pokey and Wiggly operate (and the others, but we’ll discuss them when we get to Nightmare Time.)  Both of these Bothersome Brothers use wanting as their tool of chaos but in very different ways.

Pokey wants you to want something, in order to tempt you with that in order to destroy you.

Wiggly wants to find holes to fill with exaggerated, artificial echoes of a want.

The new game at Toy Zone – Bop Ted

Does anyone else forget for a bit how amazing Jaime’s voice is and then finds themselves entranced when Join Us and Die happens?  I’m sure there is some lore in this song but I’m far too distracted.

If we refer back to our Violence over Time chart from part two of the rewatch you will see we have now fully arrived at the point where the Hive has stopped trying to just entice everyone with fluffy feelings before murdering them, and are now just resorting to “we’re gonna kill you and it’ll hurt a lot.”

I know there is plenty of discussion regarding whether Hidgens is good or bad, infected or not infected etc – but none of that matters.  What matters is he makes the same crappy puns I make in inappropriate situations and I think that’s beautiful.

“The Charlotte you knew and loved was gone the minute a note came out her mouth.” – Snape’s back with the foreshadowing again.

Hidgens then proceeds to subject our heroes to a very intricate test to find out who is human, and who is the musical Doppleganger (one of the AJ Holmes fans there).  I’ve seen Moana once, and I became obsessed with the bioluminescent crab so I don’t remember any of the other songs apart from Shiny.  This is a problem because the only other song I know from Moana has now become Paul’s version of whatever it is he is singing. I refuse to believe there is any other version of that song.

“Their tactic is to hide amongst us, and as their numbers grow, they become more bold.” – yes Hidgens – we’ve all seen the chart.

Acting Masterclass with Corey Dorris

Bill gets a phone call from Alice, she’s stuck at Hatchetfield High and her girlfriend and the other kids have become singing and dancing zombies.  Is this a prequel to High School Musical?

Its worth noting that Alice has locked herself in the Choir room – Hatchetfield High’s number one place to hide when things are going badly - x

Look what happened Nightmare Time.  

Corey Dorris’ face pulls on every heart string I possess.  Not Your Seed is a fantastic song, with some superb singing by Mariah, but the heart of this song is Corey.  Bill is a broken man from the moment he echoes Alice’s words that Grace Chastity is a Nerdy Prude. And the voice crack!

Small warning here for a very brief discussion about suicide. If you want to skip past scroll to the next gif.

The song is an attempt to bring Bill to the Hive, but I think the plan from the start was to push him to shoot himself. Bill wants his daughter back, he wants her to be a part of his life, but unlike with Charlotte, where Hive!Sam attempts to convince her he’s not really dead and wants her, Hive!Alice uses Bill’s want to break him further and further, swinging between Alice’s love and disdain for her father.  This isn’t an attempt to lay a trap and kill him when he falls in it, it’s a blatant push towards him killing himself.  The Hive only picked up the gun because Paul was there to stop him.

I also find the mirror of this moment to later in Watcher World very fascinating.  We obviously know Pokey and Blinky are brothers, and I wonder if the set up leading Alice to point a gun at Bill in Watcher World is Blinky’s twisted humour, echoing what he knows happened in another timeline.  A horrible joke that would be lost on Bill and Alice in that timeline, but very recognisable to all of us Watchers.

Once again the Hive could have easily killed Paul, but they don’t.  They make a big song and dance (get it?) out of how the guns not good enough to kill him with and then they start singing at him just in time for the army to turn up.  The Hive had no intention of killing Paul yet, though obviously they can’t let him know that.  Paul has been chosen as their Hero.  He’s got work to do.

Hatchetfield High Homework

Just the one this week, I’m currently doing an Ask series where I attempt to make ridiculous sounding Hatchetfield Theories make sense.  You can find them by searching Ridiculous Hatchetfield Theories.  Go and have a look and follow the wonderful people sending them in.

When the rewatch returns, we get our first peep into the world of PEIP.

[writingwithciara]

Take Me Home For Christmas ~Sebastian Stan~

summary: in order to avoid all the questions about his love life while home for the holidays, Sebastian seeks out help from his best friend. she agrees to go with him but she has no idea what she’s about to walk into.

word count: 3.5k

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warning: crappy ending. sorry :(

note: the lyrics of Take Me Home For Christmas by Dan & Shay inspired this little fic. it was supposed to be part of my holiday contributions but i forgot about it. I kinda veered off topic a little at the end & i’m very sorry that the ending is gonna suck. I finished this on no sleep so I’m a little out of it.

masterlist

“Come on, Seb. Christmas is next week. Are you coming home or not?” Sebastian listened to his mom whine on the phone while we rushed around his room & packed.

“Fine. I’ll be there in 4 days.” he rolled his eyes as his mom continued to talk.

“Good. Your great-aunt Maggie says she has a pleasant surprise for you when you get here.” 

His great-aunt Maggie. His eyes widened when he heard her name and his stomach dropped. It’s not that he didn’t love her. He did. Everyone did. She was the type of lovely old lady who would go out of her way to make everyone happy. 

Sebastian just didn’t like the fact that every time he saw her, she would ask him about his love life.

“I think she’s bringing the granddaughter of one of her old bingo friends.”

“Mom-”

“You’ve met Judy, right?” 

“Mom, I-” Sebastian could not get a word in when his mother got to talking about his life.

“She’s such a sweet girl. I’m sure you two will hit it off.”

“Mom!” he raised his voice slightly, managing to get her attention. “I’ve actually got someone I want you guys to meet. I’m sure you’ll love her. She’s awesome.”

“Oh. Sweetie, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. You didn’t mention her the last time we talked. How long have you been together?”

“It’s coming up on 8 months right now.” he chuckled when his mom gasped, knowing that it was her happy gasp. “Christmas will be the 8th month mark.”

“Oh. I’m so excited to meet her now.” he knew his mom was smiling. “I gotta call Maggie and tell her to just forget about Judy. I’ll talk to you later, honey. Goodbye.”

Before Sebastian could say goodbye, the call had ended. He slowly sat on the edge of his bed and looked at his phone.

Although, he had lied about his girlfriend, he knew there was only one person who would be willing to go along with the whole thing. So, he hit the call button on her contact.

Y/n was at work, becoming increasingly bored when her phone lit up & Sebastian’s picture flashed on the screen. Not wanting to be too eager, she waited until the 4th ring before she picked up.

“Hey, Seb. What’s up?”

“You’re coming with me to New York for Christmas.”

“Do I get an option?”

“Yes, of course. But I would really love it if you came with me. My mom really wants to meet you.”

“What did you tell her about me that would make her want to meet me so bad?”

“Mhm. What did you really say to her?”

“Not much. Just that you’re awesome & I may have mentioned something else.”

“What did you say?” by now, Y/n was sitting up straight in her chair.

“She told me that my great aunt was gonna bring me a girl to set me up with so i told her that I was bringing a girl. Naturally, she assumed that it was my girlfriend so I went along with it.”

“Okay. Well, I gotta go. The boss is coming but I’ll be home in 2 hours so we can talk about this more. Goodbye.”

Once again, the call was over before he could say bye.

2 hours later, y/n walked into the loft apartment she shared with Sebastian, and was greeted with a lovely aroma. She set her bag down on the table and followed the smell into the kitchen. 

Sebastian was standing with his back to her as he moved from pan to pan, trying to cook up something good.

“That smells delicious.” y/n walked over to him and touched his arm. He nearly attacked her with the spatula that he was holding.

“You can’t just sneak up on a man when he’s cooking dinner. It’s mean.”

“I apologize.” she giggled and looked at the pans. “It looks delicious. What is it?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s some kind of beef meal.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it.” she smiled and began the get plates and cups out of the cabinet. “So, tell me more about what you and your mom talked about.”

“There’s not a whole lot left to tell.” he shrugged and looked at her. “But if anyone asks you, we’ve been together for 8 months.”

“So when we get to New York, we’re supposed to act like we’re in love & that we have been for 8 months? Should we create a story to the relationship?”

“Yeah. I think it’ll make it more believable.”

That night, as they ate, their story started coming together piece by piece and the next 2 days were spent memorizing every little detail.

The plane ride to New York was shorter than either of them had expected but it was fun. 

When it came time to walk into his old home, y/n looked at Sebastian skeptically.

“What if I mess it all up? What if I forget a detail or something? What happens if they don’t like me?”

“Will you relax? They’re going to love you so much.” he held her hand for reassurance as they knocked on the door. His mom quickly opened the door and smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” she pulled her son in for a hug and looked over at y/n with a smile. “You must be, y/n. Sebby, she’s so beautiful. Where have you been hiding her?”

“You know how I am with my relationships. I try to stay as private as possible to protect her from the spotlight.” 

“Yes. I do remember you telling me that.” she smiled again. “Come on in. Everyone is already here and they’re all dying to meet her, especially your aunt Maggie.”

Y/n began to follow Sebastian’s mom but she was stopped when he pulled her back. 

“Aunt Maggie can be very critical but I wouldn’t be worried. She’ll love you, I guarantee it.”

The pair continued into the living room where the rest of his family was gathered. They all stopped talking when they saw Sebastian, quickly erupting into cheers and running to hug him. Y/n stepped back to give them all some room and she stood there quietly as they surrounded him.

When Aunt Maggie came into view, y/n visibly tensed up as she approached her. Everyone sent silent as Maggie looked her over.

“Sebastian, you idiot. You lied to us.” everyone froze as the woman turned towards all of them. “She’s way more beautiful than an angel.”

The family exchanged looks of relief as Sebastian joined his aunt and y/n. 

“Yeah, she really is, isn’t she?” he smiled and held her hand, causing her heartbeat to quicken unexpectedly. “She keeps getting more beautiful with every passing day.”

“Oh, stop it.” y/n blushed and looked around the room. “8 months later & he’s still as charming as the day we started dating.”

“Aren’t you two just the cutest couple?” Sebastian’s mom smiled and went back to the kitchen.

“Come on, love. Let’s go up to our room.” he pulled her towards the stairs and up to his old room. “Told you they’d love you.”

“Your family is wonderful, Seb. I can’t wait to get to know them better later.”

“You’re going to love our family traditions that last all week, I guarantee it.”

“Well, you’ve been right every time so far, so I see no reason to not believe you.” she put her bag on the bed and let his hand go. “What’s the first one?”

“Since there’s a bunch of snow, we split up into 2 teams and go out to the backyard, where an arena has been assembled, and we have a snowball fight. It’s so much fun.”

“I hope so.” she smiled and looked up at him. “What else do you guys do?”

“We decorate the tree, bake cookies, go caroling. Sometimes we go ice skating on the pond in the park. We also go to the annual Christmas parade & watch the kids in the neighborhood show off their talents at the talent show.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of stuff. When I was growing up, all my family did was go caroling on Christmas Eve. Then we’d come home, get into our matching pjs and drink cocoa while watching Christmas movies.”

“We do that too. And we also stay in our pjs all day on Christmas day.”

“I do that still.”

“I know.” he smiled. “I remember when we got snowed in the first year we lived together and when I woke up that morning, you were drinking your cocoa and you gave me those pjs that matched yours and when you told me what you did during the day, I thought you were insane. But I’ve enjoyed it every year since then.” he smiled.

“Every year? You’re telling me that you wear your pjs ALL day on Christmas?”

“Yeah. It makes me feel a little safer because I know you do it too when you’re with your family at Christmas. It feels like we’re together at Christmas.”

“Awe, Seb. That’s adorable.”

“Okay, you two. It’s time for the snowball fight. I’ve already put all the names on the board downstairs. Let’s go.” his mom squealed giddily before disappearing down the stairs. Sebastian and y/n followed quickly, curious to see what team they were on. They ended up being on opposite teams and the final two in the fight. And since, Sebastian went easy on her, it was easy for her to bring her team to victory.

As the week progressed quickly, but in a good way, all kinds of traditions were celebrated. 

It was now Christmas Eve and the family members who weren’t getting food ready for tomorrow, were out caroling. Y/n, Sebastian, his mom, his aunt Maggie, and his cousins travelled from house to house in the neighborhood and sang their hearts out. Y/n had heard Sebastian sing before but there was something different about him when he was belting out Christmas tunes. It was mesmerizing. When they were done caroling, Sebastian and his mom exchanged a look.

“What’s going on?”

“Well, we thought that since you didn’t go to Tulsa for Christmas this year, we’d bring a little bit of Oklahoma here for you.” Sebastian smiled.

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, darling, it means that we’re taking you to see our homemade version of the  Chickasha Festival of Light. We got a bunch of people from the neighborhood to help us set it up in the park. It may not be Oklahoma but we hope you’ll appreciate it just as much.” 

“I’m sure I will.” y/n smiled and walked alongside Sebastian as they talked with his mom. “How did you guys know about that?”

“Seb told us last week. He told us that he wanted to do something special for you this year since you’re always doing wonderful things for him.”

“You raised quite the gentleman.”

“Thank you.”

The group continued their walk to the park. In the middle of the walk, one of Sebastian’s cousins approached y/n & asked her for a piggy back ride, which she gave him. One of his other cousins asked him the same thing & jumped on his back. When they got to the park, the lights turned on.

“Wow. This looks really great.” Y/n smiled and looked around. “Thanks for doing this.”

“Anyone who’s important to our little Sebastian is important to us. You’re family now, dear.” Aunt Maggie spoke kindly.

“I know it’s only been a week but I love you guys so much.”

They all continued to walk through the park. Y/n couldn’t help but shed a few tears as they continued their journey. Sebastian noticed this and held her hand tighter. When they got to the end of the light festival, they obviously stopped to take a picture.

Back at the house that night, after the younger kids and older family members were in bed, the adults were hanging out in the living room, drinking cocoa and talking about the events of Christmas day.

“I hear that Seb has something big planned for tomorrow.” his mom smirked as she nudged her sons arm.

“Mom, you’re making it out to be bigger than it is. It’s just a present for y/n that I know she’ll love.”

“I don’t think anything can top that light show. Honestly, being able to see it this year was amazing. I clearly have the best boyfriend ever and the best family here. I can’t thank you guys enough for everything this week.”

“No need to thank us, dear.” Aunt Maggie smiled. “We’re more than happy to do it.”

Y/n offered a smile in return and rested her head on Sebastian’s shoulder. When she yawned, he knew it was time to say goodnight to everyone.

“It’s been a fun night everyone but I’m afraid my sweet little baby here, is tired so I think we’re gonna call it a night.” He stood up and helped y/n to her feet. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

After the goodnights were exchanged, Sebastian nearly carried y/n up the stairs and set her on the bed.

“Do you want to change into your Christmas pjs?”

“I didn’t bring them.”

“I know. But, you see,” he paused and reached into his bag. “I did.” He held up the pair of matching pjs that she had gifted him the first year they lived together. When her eyes landed on them, she sat up.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” she smiled and grabbed hers from his hand.

“I don’t recall.” He smiled and began to change.

“I’m gonna go change then I’ll be right back to tell you.” She smiled and went into the bathroom to change quickly before heading back to the room. “Okay. You’re the best.”

“I know.” He winked at her and moved over to give her some room. She laid down and faced him.

“Thank you for inviting me here. I’ve had the best week pretending to be your girlfriend, Seb. And it’s all thanks to you.”

“You’re my best friend & if I hadn’t invited you, you would’ve stayed at home all by yourself. I didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas. Plus, my mom was starting to get tired of hearing me talk about you & she wanted a face to match the stories.”

“It’s so cute that you talk about me with your mom.” She smiled. “What do you tell her about me?”

“I tell her about everything. I told her how funny you are & how smart you are. I also told her that you’re super successful at work.”

“I work a crappy office job that pays less than it should.”

“Yeah but you’ve only been there for a few months & you’ve already been promoted twice. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” She smiled and began to play with the strings on her pants. “You know, I owe a lot of my good luck & fortune on you.”

“How’s that?”

“You push me to work hard & you’re a solid support system when I feel like everything is falling apart. I can’t count the times you were there for me when I needed someone. You drop everything whenever I call & I know I’ve pulled you away from a lot of dates with those calls.”

“I’m always going to be there for you. No matter what.” He smiled and pulled the blanket over them. A brief moment passed between them where there was no line between platonic and romantic. “We should probably get some sleep. The kids like to wake up early & wake everyone else up with their excitement so we should be well rested when that happens.”

“Yeah. Goodnight, Seb.”

“Goodnight.” He kissed her head and faced away from her.

Morning came faster than expected and y/n woke up before anyone else did. Or so she thought. When she made her way down to the kitchen, Sebastian’s mom was already awake, preparing breakfast for the entire family.

“Good morning & Merry Christmas.”

“Oh, good morning dear. You’re awake early. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yeah. I slept fantastic. Thank you for asking.” y/n walked over to the woman. “Do you need any help?”

“No, sweetie. You’re a guest in this house. You don’t have to help with anything.”

“I know but I want to. Besides, cooking breakfast for 15 people is probably exhausting. And I want to thank you for inviting me int your home with open arms. I’d be more than happy to help.”

“You are just the best. Thank you.” She looked around the kitchen. “There’s not a whole lot left to do, actually. Maybe you can help me with these dishes.”

“Okay. That works for me.” She grabbed a dish rag from the counter and followed her over to the sink.

When Sebastian woke up, he was surprised to find y/n’s side of the bed empty. He knew how much she loved sleeping in when she had an opportunity. He climbed out of bed and checked the bathroom first. When he didn’t find her in there, he went to the kitchen, figuring she probably got hungry and went to find food. He was not expecting her to be helping his mom with the dishes.

“Merry Christmas, lovely ladies.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Your lovely girlfriend offered to help with breakfast, but I had everything done so we decided to do the dishes that I dirtied. She is a freaking saint, Seb.”

“She really, really is.” He smiled and kissed both of their heads. “Babe, when you’re done here, I got something for you upstairs.”

“Okay. I’ll be back up there shortly.” She returned to helping with the dishes while Sebastian went upstairs to look for the present he got y/n.

A few minutes later, she was in the room with him.

“What did you get me?”

“The first present is something I didn’t want to give to you in front of everyone else because they would’ve made a bigger deal out of it than it is.” He handed her a box and watched as she opened it.

“Okay,” she flipped the lid of the box and an evermee necklace was sitting inside. “Seb, this is amazing. I love it so much.”

“I already loaded it with a couple of our best photos together.” He helped her put it around her neck. “There. It looks beautiful.”

“This is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me. Thank you.” She smiled and looked into his eyes. Before their lips would’ve met, Sebastian’s cousins came running into the room, ruining the moment they were having.

“It’s Christmas. Santa came. Come on. There’s presents.” They both shouted and  ran back out of the room.

“We should follow.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” y/n followed Sebastian down to the living room where everyone was gathered around the pile of presents. The kids went first and got toys, the adults went last and got stuff they wouldn’t break easily.

“Alright, I have an announcement to make you guys. And it’s a big one.” Sebastian stood up and looked over at y/n. “I’m sorry but I’ve been fooling you all. Y/n isn’t actually my girlfriend.”

“Are you sure? I know what love looks like & there’s no way that what you two have been doing all week, isn’t real love.”

“Well, she’s been my roommate and best friend for 8 years. I brought her here to see if you guys liked her and I didn’t want to be set up with a random girl. Especially not when I know exactly who I want to be with.” He walked towards y/n and pulled out another box. “The day you showed up to the apartment, I knew the connection we had would last forever. You are my best friend in every situation & I couldn’t ask for anybody else. I love you & want you to know that I will never ever let you go, if you give me the chance to try.”

“I love you too, Sebastian. Nobody knows me better than you do & there’s nobody I’d rather have by my side through all the troubles. You’ve helped me grow and become a better person. And I am definitely willing to put in the time with you so we can be together for the rest of our lives.”

“Wait, are you guys getting engaged or something? Because that’s what it’s starting to sound like & there’s a ring. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“We’re not getting engaged, but I do have a ring for her. It’s nothing fancy. Just a simple birthstone ring with the date we met engraved on the band.”

Y/n opened the box and smiled. “It’s beautiful, Sebby. I love it.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, you idiot. Weren’t you listening before?” y/n giggled and looked at the ceiling. “How convenient.”

“What?” Sebastian followed her gaze and grinned when he noticed the mistletoe. “So, does that mean-“

“Oh, just kiss her, you idiot.” His mom smiled while gently shoving them towards each other. Sebastian stabled them & looked into her eyes before finally pulling her close and making sure that this time, their lips actually met in a kiss filled with electricity.