#will be refilling it with something else if anyone has suggestions for litter that's actually low tracking lmk

[californiaquail]

pov he's going to fucking GET you

[silverarmedassassin]

To Save Me From Tears

Pairing: Bucky x Reader  Word Count: 2853 Warnings: Jealousy. Clueless Bucky™️ A/N: This was one of the first ones I wrote! It actually helped give me the idea to write all 25 days! I’m not sure how I like the ending (I struggled a lot with finishing this for some reason), but here it is. Day four!

Summary: Another year, another Stark Christmas Party. But this year, karaoke is involved and, even though you didn’t plan on getting up there, sometimes a song is the only way to express your feelings.  

2019 Christmas Masterlist 

“You’ll save me a dance, right Sergeant?” you ask coyly as you finish tying Bucky’s tie. It was light blue, the exact color of his eyes. He smiles down at you as you flatten the collar of his black-on-black suit, those eyes crinkling edges.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to dance with the prettiest girl in the room.” He adjusts his sleeves as he examines his reflection in the metal of the elevator door.

You turn around to look at yourself as well, admire the way your cranberry-colored dress sways as you do so. You couldn’t help but notice Bucky did the same, his eyes traveling up the long skirt, up to the lacey bodice. When his gaze finally lands on your face, you can see, even in the distorted reflection, that his cheeks are now bright pink.

“Come on,” he grumbles shyly, grabbing your lace-covered arm as the doors opened. “Stark won’t like it if we’re late.”

You and Bucky weren’t together. Yes, he sent you the coveted “good morning” and “good night” texts every day, and invited you as his plus one to more than your fair share of game nights with the Avengers, but it was because he was a genuinely nice guy. A nice superhero guy.

There was nothing special or super about you. You worked in the public relations department for crying out loud, slaving around the clock to fix any screw-up the team made and making sure the public absolutely adored them. Bucky would never be interested in you, not when he was surrounded by agents and literal super-humans.

Everyone else disagreed, however. Even Tony made a point to tell both of you that if a move wasn’t made soon he would be forced to interfere. And that was the last thing you needed.

That’s why you decided tonight would be the night you were finally going to say something to Bucky. It was a perfect time - after all, there’s nothing more romantic than confessing your love for someone amid the overly-crowded Annual Stark Christmas Party.

Avengers, agents, and employees like yourself were spread out across the Compound. It turns out the room Tony had built specifically for press conferences doubled as a great dance floor.

You were out on the terrace with a group of your coworkers, watching as liquored-up bodies crammed together like sardines. Outside was just as beautiful as the inside - strands of white, twinkling Christmas lights bordered the open doors, and the standing tables were adorned with crystal votives. Stark hadn’t left a single pebble unturned when it came to this party, so the state-of-the-art heaters littering the space fought off the mid-December chill. It was just warm enough to be comfortable, but still several degrees cooler than inside. Perfect for a breather.

You were only half-listening to the conversation you had found yourself in, your focus more on the happenings around you. You could hear Thor singing off-key to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” How they convinced the God of freaking Thunder of all people to participate in Christmas karaoke was beyond you, but you were thrilled it was happening.

You smiled as you took a sip of your spiced cider, relishing in the way you could feel the warmth travel from your tongue to your belly as you drink. Maybe after another couple of these, you would finally get the courage to go talk to Bucky.

A hand flapping in front of your face draws you from your thoughts.

“Hello, earth to Y/N,” David, one of the IT guys said.

You feel heat spread across your face and you know it’s not from the cider. “I’m sorry, what?”

David huffs and your little group snickers to themselves. “We were asking about your plans for the holidays. Since Stark gave us the next two weeks off…”

“She was busy looking for Loverboy,” Carley says. You roll your eyes at your officemate’s snark.

“I was not looking for Bucky.”

“I didn’t even mention a name! Ha! I think I know what her plans are for Christmas.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively and everyone burst into laughter.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, turning your attention back to the crowd inside.

“The man brings you lunch more days than not, walks you to your car when you stay late, and invites you to family game night. Almost every week, may I add.” Carley points an accusatory finger at you. “I’ve been here for seven years and I haven’t even been invited. It’s been six months for you! He’s got it bad.”

You could feel the embarrassment creeping back to your cheeks. Finishing off your cider in one massive gulp, you turn to the group. “I’m going to get another drink. Anyone need a refill?”

“Classic deflection,” David mutters as they all wave you off. You knew this conversation wasn’t over, but you were happy to dodge it for the time being.

You shove your way through the crowd that was now cheering for Thor. He bows dramatically before passing the mic off to Natasha, who is deeply focused on finding a song. The familiar, sultry notes of “Santa Baby” start to chime through the hall. You’d expect nothing less from Nat.

Finally, you make it to the bar, where you find Steve and Sam in the middle of a heated debate about which era produced the best Christmas music. Steve, of course, is partial to the early 1900s, while Sam insists Michael Bublé is the best Christmas singer to ever grace this earth. You chuckle as you slide your empty flute to the bartender and wait for a new drink.

“Ah, there she is!” Sam finally acknowledges your appearance, effectively ending the frivolous debate. He pulls you in for a quick side hug before Steve does the same. “Where have you been hiding? Been lookin’ for you all night!”

“I’ve been...around. Mostly trying to dodge getting drafted for karaoke. I’m not drunk enough for that yet.” You laugh as you watch Natasha shaking her hips on stage. “I don’t think I’ll ever be drunk enough for that.”

The boys follow your gaze. “Nonsense. You’d have all the men eating out of your hand if you got up there,” Sam sasses as your drink is slid towards you.

You hum in response, ignoring the comment as best as you could. “Have you guys seen Bucky? I uh, need to talk to him.”

Sam and Steve share a knowing look. “Are you finally going to say something to the pathetic sap?” Steve laughs as he peers at you over his whiskey tumbler.

Before you can reply, a familiar, gruff laugh drifts over to where the three of you are standing. Your heart leaps a little as you turn and spot the top of Bucky’s head, hair starting to fall loosely out of the bun at the nape of his neck.

Taking another drag of your cider and straightening your poster, you get ready to make your way over to him. Before you can get more than a step away from Steve and Sam, you’re frozen on the spot. Standing across from Bucky, using one of the tall tables as a rest, is a tall blonde. Her eyes crinkle as she touches Bucky’s left arm as she laughs at something he’s said. He never let anyone touch his metal limb. A slight pang of red-hot jealousy washes over you.

This was it. This is exactly what you meant when you said Bucky would never fall for someone like you. Not when there were women like her floating around the Compound, all fit and beautiful. This woman, who you come to recognize as one of the newest agents Natasha had recruited, exudes so much confidence that you can literally feel it from where you’re standing several feet away. She’s a literal vision in icy blue, the exact color of Bucky’s eyes. And that damn tie.

Steve clears his throat from behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder obviously trying to pull your attention away from the scene in front of you. You harshly shrug him off. You didn’t want his pity, nor did you want to hear the trademark Captain speech you knew always followed tense emotional situations. You watch as the woman leans closer to Bucky as he says something into her ear. She smiles again, a flash of something in her eyes and she takes a sip of her drink. You’d seen enough.

“Excuse me,” you say, downing your almost-full flute of cider and ditching it on the bartop. Before either of the men can stop you, you’re shoving through the crowd. You’re on a mission and nothing was going to stop you.

You make it to the front of the room in record time, stopping right in front of the make-shift stage where Natasha is finishing her performance. You catch her eye and she gives you a devilish smirk. “Y/N!” she yells into the mic. “Your turn!”

The crowd, despite more than half of them not knowing you, goes crazy. Good. They gave you the little needed confidence you need to pull this off. You knew exactly what song you’d be singing, exactly who you’d be singing to. You climb up the few steps of the platform and graciously take the microphone. It only takes you a few moments to find the song, and you let all nerves and self-conscious thoughts melt away as the retro beat of “Last Christmas” fills the room.

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day you gave it away This year, to save me from tears I’ll give it to someone special

You let your gaze linger further out than just the group of people bobbing along in front of the platform. You spot Natasha by the bar, talking animatedly at Sam, who is shrinking in on himself like a wounded dog. Was she scolding him?

Once bitten and twice shy I keep my distance But you still catch my eye Tell me, baby Do you recognize me? Well, it’s been a year It doesn’t surprise me

Thank god he’s tall because there’s no way you would have been able to see Steve’s blonde head making its way through the crowd if he was as short as he was once upon a time. He’s headed straight towards Bucky, who has abandoned the blonde he was flirting with earlier to watch you.

You’re surprised when, instead of feeling triumphant in your ability to get Bucky’s attention, you’re filled with anger. Maybe a little tinge of regret for not telling him how you felt sooner. Definitely a surge of self-loathing and despair. Damn alcohol. You make eye-contact as best as you can with Bucky as you start belting the next verses.

A crowded room, friends with tired eyes I’m hiding from you, and your soul of ice My god, I thought you were someone to rely on Me? I guess I was a shoulder to cry on

You watch as Steve begins, what you can only assume, scolding Bucky. He’s yanking his hands this way and that, occasionally pulling them through his hair. Bucky breaks eye contact, briefly looking at his best friend in front of him before looking back to you.

The blonde agent is long forgotten now.

When the last line is belted out, storm off the stage and make towards the main hall. You were no longer in the Christmas spirit, and you definitely didn’t want to talk to Bucky off all people right now. You just wanted to sit on your couch with a bottle of cheap wine and wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, it seems your Christmas wish isn’t coming true tonight.

“Y/N!” Bucky huffs as he runs up behind you, gently grabbing your arm to stop you. “I’ve been looking for you all night!”

You contemplate trying to pull away, but you know it’s no use with his strength. You take a deep breath in an attempt to bury the emotions you’re feeling before turning to face him. The look of pure excitement and happiness on his face cued you in on the fact he didn’t know you were upset.

“I’m sure you were,” you mumbled as you looked down at his hand still holding onto your arm.

“I can’t believe you got up there and sang,” he laughs, dropping his hand and using his metal one to rub the back of his neck. “I was just telling Yelena that…” Bucky trailed off when he noticed you stiffen at the mention of, who you could assume, the blonde agent you had seen him with not 20 minutes ago.

“Uh, yea well...” You shrug not knowing what to say to that. “I’m not really in the party mood anymore, so I’m going to head out. Better go find Yelena again” You know you’re being petty, but it’s more out of anger at yourself for getting your hopes up than anything. 

“What? No, I can walk you out if you’d like?” 

Before you can respond, a heavily accented voice breaks through the crowd you’d edged your way out of. 

“James! There you are!” Yelena says as she shoves her way out into the hall. “You ran off so quickly I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Yea, everything’s fine. I found Y/N and didn’t want to lose her again,” Bucky turned back to you then a beaming smile on his face. “Y/N, this is Yelena. I uh, knew her back when Soldier was in control...”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Yelena interjects, holding her hand out for you to shake. “I’ve heard so much about you tonight. I was about ready to come to find you myself so this sap would shut it.”

She nudges Bucky in the ribs and he grumbles in response. 

“You know, I was just about to say how happy I am that Nat brought you here, but I take even the thought back.”

Yelena snorts and rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to leave you two to it. Sam challenged Natalia and me to a drinking game. I have some ass to kick.” And just like that, the blonde disappeared back into the crowd. 

As you and Bucky watch Yelena walk away, you couldn’t help but laugh. Watching the way they interacted made you realize that you may have slightly overreacted. Thanks, insecurity. 

“What?” Bucky asks, turning to look at you. 

“I’m just realizing how stupid I am.”

You look to Bucky and are met with a look of confusion. “What do you...Oh, you though...Yelena and...” He lets out a genuine belly laugh then, one that would normally warm your entire body but now makes you want to punch him. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout, crossing your arms across your chest in defense.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky gasps between laughs. “It’s just, I’ve known Yelena since she was younger. Watched her grow up, even if it was from afar. Her attitude reminds me so much of Becca that I practically see her as my little sister!”

Bucky grabbed your hand as the karaoke faded away into the live-music portion of the night. I instrumental version of “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas” started to float through the room. 

"I meant it when I said you were the prettiest girl in the room. I spent the entire night fighting with myself on trying to find you. Yelena was trying her hardest to get me to you but, I guess I was just nervous. The truth is,” he says as he brings his other hand to rest on your lace-covered waist, “I really like you.

“And I know everyone is always making comments about how we, ya know...I just didn’t wanna ruin anything. But,” he starts gently swaying you both the music then. The grin on his face reminds you of pictures of old footage of him back during the war, back when he wouldn’t have given a second thought about coming right up and asking you to dance. “When I saw you up there singin’, it reminded me just how beautiful you are. And how sweet, and gentle you are with me even though hell knows I don’t deserve it.

“So, I guess this is just my roundabout way of askin’ you to be my girl. Because I’d be stupid to let someone like you get away from me.”

“Buck,” you whisper as you step closer into his embrace. You blink rapidly trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall down your face. “I never realized how big of a sap you really are.”

This helps break the tension, and Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. “Is that a yes then, pretty girl?”

You smile as you lean in and rest your head against his shoulder. You let yourself get enveloped by the smell of the cologne you gave him as an early Christmas present specifically for tonight’s party. “Of course, Bucky. I’ll be your girl.”

[iamalivenow]

“You okay, man?”

He isn't.

He's four hours deep into day five of a nonstop panic attack and he can tell he looks like absolute shit because he can see his reflection in the polished brass decorations of the hallway. His hair is plastered to his forehead, his face is pale and the bags under his eyes are getting worse by the second. His clothes are a mess, and when was the last time he bathed-

“Of course I am.” Cent clears his throat. “Who do you take me for- Man's great.”

The guards, for their benefit, shrug and shift back into their post.

Two won't eat, is the thing.

Two hasn't eaten, really eaten anything solid, in a few weeks now, and thats- it's not good but he can live with that. He can make pudding and oats and whatever else his darling could ever want, he could slave away in the kitchens for hours as long as he saw her eat something. He's gotten great at cooking lately- is there anything he isn't great at-

Even that's too much now, though.

He walks down the hall, the few servants not in armor yet polity greeting him as he hurries down to the kitchen. Are his hands shaking- it feels like his hands are shaking.

Lady Two is in bed, where she has been for- for a while. That's fine! That's fine too, she's been tired lately is all. And that's understandable. His lady works so hard, she's definitely entitled to a long rest if she wanted one. Cent just wished she would tell him that herself.

He just wants to hear her voice again.

What do they even have left in the stores- a lot of corn? A few heads of cabbage that look like they're rotting. Casks of wine that Lady Five sent months ago. Grain that Lady One sent when Cent forged letters from his Lady begging for aid for the siege they were going to be put into when Zero eventually tears through the Land of Sands.

Lady Five is dead, so is Lady Four. He doesn't imagine Lady Three will hold out for long either.

No one drank the wine- rather some of the soldiers wanted to, but some of the others were pretty harsh on making sure no one disappointed Lady Two, as they should. He pulls out a bottle and brushes the label clean of dust, and it must be foreign, because Cent can't read it.

Wine is romantic right?

Lady Five certainly seemed to think so and anyone that indulgent probably knew what they were talking about. Cent only met Lady Five briefly, but she seemed just as smart as he was. They both thought the world of Lady Two. He trusted her opinion anyway, and if she thought this was good for Lady Two then it probably was.

He struggles to uncork it, can't really get a grip and the bottle winds up slipping out of his hands and on to the floor.

Whoops.

His hands are shaking, incidentally.

Good thing Lady Five sent several casks. He pulls out another bottle and sets it on a counter first. At least this way if he cracks it even more glass won't litter the floor. The cork gives easier this time- maybe because he braces it on the counter?

He lifts it to his nose and-

Now, he's never had wine before but this one has some very warm notes to it. Earthy. That sounds right. Definitely a good batch of grapes. Or pomegranates or berries or whatever it is that makes wine red. He drinks and it sends heat down his throat.

Perfect! Perfect! It'll keep his Lady warm too- this is a brilliant idea. He needs a glass- a goblet maybe- no, he's getting ahead of himself. Maybe his Lady prefers white wine to red. He should try it out with something small first.

And maybe cut it down with some water- in case the flavor was too much.

Where do they keep the nice glasses?

Where do they keep anything?

It takes him a while to find it, tucked in the back of a cabinet, long enough that a solider wanders into the kitchen to find him.

“A letter.” She says and starts to walk over- “Shit-”

Right, the broken bottle.

“I got it.” He leans over the spill. “Did it get you?”

“The glass? Nah. Almost slipped though. Would have been. Embarrassing.” The woman pauses, takes a few steps back. “I'm going to. To go?”

Ah, embarrassed because of his good looks. Of course. Anyone would be, he wants to say, he's very gifted, but the solider is gone already and he can see his own hand shaking again as he holds the letter.

Lady One's seal is on it.

He sets it aside with the glass and the wine. He could read it to Lady Two. She loved hearing from her sisters so naturally it might perk her up a bit. He's tempted to just turn on his heel and rush back to her, but the glass.

He bends over and starts to pick it up and wow did it shatter into a million fucking pieces. The glass cuts into his hands. He's bleeding. Maybe this is the point where he can admit that he's having a bad day. It takes him too long to clean up, especially when it kept pricking at his skin. He should get gloves or something, for the future.

He should get back to Lady Two, is what he should do. He dumps the glass into the trash and picks up the bottle and the glass and the letter and rushes back to her rooms, the same soldiers still standing at attention, still probably judging him.

There's blood in the glass by the time he sets it down on the night stand. It's- maybe that's a good thing- yeah. Nutrients or something. If he's being honest with himself he doesn't know if he has the moral strength for another trek to the kitchen right now. And it's not like his Lady hasn't already had all of him. She would understand.

She always understands.

Or, honestly, if this is the thing that finally breaks her out of her- out of her relaxed state- to scold him for being so careless, that would be more than fine. He would happily accept any scolding, any anger, even any hatred, just to hear her talk to him again.

“I brought you wine, my lady. Do you remember when Lady Five had sent it over?” He starts talking with out thinking, just to fill the silence. She had told him countless times how much she liked hearing his voice. How happy it made her every time. “She wrote a note, and it was just drenched in perfume. You liked it, you said it smelled like field daisies.”

They had tried to grow some but the climate wasn't exactly accepting of it, so Cent suggested they tried again in the winter, when it cooled down a bit and Two had laughed and kissed him.

“Lady One sent a letter. Do you want it before or after the wine?” He waits a moment, and listens. Her breathing is the only sound in the room. “After. To really experience the flavor notes. Of course. That's what Lady Five said to Lady Three at the dinner you all had last year. Do you recall?”

He picks up her pitcher of water, kept fresh and refilled every day, even when no one reaches for it.

The blood in the glass swirls along with the water, wispy.

“You cooked that night, you were so worried about the dessert.” The wine pours smooth. “But I helped you, and everything turned out just fine. And Lady One loved it, of course. I knew she would, who doesn't love your divine cooking.”

He chances a glance at her.

Lady Two is beautiful, always, perfect and angelic- no. She's better than any angel, she's more like the sun. Even like this, when her eyes stare at nothing and she breaths so slowly her chest barely moves.

The bed shifts under his weight and he sits at her side, nudging the few stray hairs that have fallen over her eyes.

“My lady.” He says quietly, “Would you like to drink?” Her voice echoes in his mind, 'Call me Two when we're alone, okay?' like she had said dozens of times before. He never understood that, not really. Two was for her sisters, and Lady Two was for her subjects. Only Cent got to call her my lady. It made him proud that he was that close to her.

How badly he wanted her to tell him to call her Two now.

How badly he wanted to be reminded, just one more time, please, please just one more time.

“Two.” His voice is barely audible. “Please.”

Please wake up.

Please forgive him.

Please hold his hand and kiss him and tell him that everything's fine as long as they're together.

She doesn't move.

He feels cold.

A moment of brilliance takes him, and he lifts the glass to his lips, holding the wine and the water and his blood in his mouth before leaning down to kiss her. True love's kiss and all that- better than his shaking spilling anything on her.

Lady Two drinks, and Cent almost slumps against her, so relieved that he feels faint.

“It's good, right? Lady Five definitely knew what she was doing.” He takes another shallow sip and kisses her again.

They actually manage to finish the glass and Cent thinks he might start crying.

That's the most she's had in-

In-

“Lady One's letter.” He says, before his throat starts burning. “I'll read it for you, don't you worry, my lady.” He rips it open in a rush and he's sure Two would scold him for that too, if she could. She cherished One's letters the most, after all. But just this once, maybe it would be alright.

She's so forgiving, his lady is.

It's simple, a short no nonsense greeting and a confirmation of what he already suspected, that Zero was inches from Lady Three, and soon to be headed in their direction.

He... maybe doesn't read it verbatim. He adds some flourishes, mentions how much One undoubtably misses her cooking, and how much she wished she could come visit. She would, if it wasn't for how busy they were up in Cathedral City.

“Fun, right? Exciting? Maybe she'll find the time soon. You know how Lady One is.” He sets the letter on the night stand and lays down on the bed next to her, pulling her close and kissing her temple. “Great at scheduling things.”

He tugs the blanket that was laying at her waist a little higher.

It's going to be winter soon.

Maybe he should get around to trying with the daisies again.

That would definitely cheer Two up.

[mousedetective]

What It’s Like For Me, Being Homeless

This is a portion of what I told @greenskyoverme today about the situation when she suggested I apply for food stamps:

Basically state/federal aid is set up against anyone who's homeless, because there's so much we can't deduct in money we get to survive. Like, when we had the apartment? I could claim I paid a portion of the rent and the utilities with donations and it didn't count against me so I could get a little more in donations if needed. But now? Every cent I get counts against me, and not being able to refrigerate food means I have to spend a small fortune on fast food. Needing to take a shower means I need to spend $100 on a hotel room since it's summer and the prices are up. I don't own the car so I can't count off paying for the repairs, the smog tests, the tires, gas...I think the only thing I can claim off is my $60 a month for my phone.

It's part of the reason as soon as I got an address I started using the wish list again. If someone send me $100 in fast food gift cards and a $100 gift card to Safeway, for example, I don't have to claim it because it's not cash. If I can get someone to refill my Shell gas card on a regular basis, that covers gas and it doesn't count against me. If someone else pays for the hotel room, I don't have to get cash for it and I can still sleep in a bed/take a bath. Or if it's sent to my mom, I can pay bills out of her account, especially on things she owns that wouldn't count in my favor, and as long as her account doesn't get to $2000.01 we're good. It's a crappy system, but that was how my lawyer told me to play it until I can get SSI/SSDI, and I think last month screwed it up. I just hope it didn't.

Basically the threshold for disability people is that they can have exactly $2K in their accounts at any time. In San Diego, though, the threshold for food stamps is much lower: in the previous month, you can only make $1,200 as a single head of household to qualify, and in both July and August (because of the car repairs, needing hotels, phone problems and food costs) I went just over that threshold both months. This is a rundown of the regular bills/purchases we have every month:

$517 - Storage units, when all three are paid on time ($45 extra if one unit goes into pre-lien before we can pay it)

$60 - Car insurance

$63 - Mother's phone bill

$58 - My phone bill

$160 - Four full tanks of gas (which we rarely ever get at once, but that's how much we go through in a month)

$30 - Approximately how much we spend on the things we need to not stink (shampoos/conditioners - both wet and dry, baby powder for chaffing, baby wipes, deodorant because it keeps melting in the car)

$16 - $24 - Bladder control pads/underwear (and then sometimes an extra $6 for menstrual pads for me because the bladder pads DO NOT work well for periods...we usually get two packs a month because there's 30 to a pack and two of us)

$30 - Cat food

$30 - Cat litter

$10 - Other things the cats need (wet food, brushes, etc.)

$200 - $300 - Food to supplement what we get from food banks

$100 - $128 - The cost of one night at a hotel room at the moment (where we stayed for a week in July and five days so far in August)

So it's expensive. This isn't counting late fees when we pay a unit late, the money spent to repair the car/have two separate smog tests/get new tires, as well as replacing both my and my mother's phones due to damage in the last two months (that was about $1000 for the car stuff and $175 for the phones). And then at the beginning of the year, for example, we had to pay co-pays on most of my mother's medication. A few days ago I had to spend $40 on wrist braces that would allow me to type while wearing them. I buy cheap eyeglasses for myself and my son, but those were bought in June and came to about $100 between us when holders, cleaning wipes and an eyeglass repair kit each was added (plus non-prescription reading glasses and the extras for my mom because her prescription is all wonky). I still need two ankle braces and three hinged knee braces, all in the XXL size, which I have to buy on Amazon since they aren't in any stores I can find, and each brace is about $30 a pop. So it adds up really quickly.

Now, I know some people are looking at the food and going "Wow, that's a lot! That's too much." You know what we got from Interfaith the last time we asked for food, and this is with them knowing we're homeless and have no microwave/no refrigerator/no stove? Two cup of noodles, two cans of Vienna sausage, two cans of tuna, a loaf of Rye bread, two granola bars and four Ensures. For two people, one of whom can't eat Rye bread. And we can only get food from them every other month. That's actually typical of most food banks if you tell them you're homeless. And even then, like when we went to Brother Benno's? We got more food that had to be cooked in an oven/on a stove or refrigerated than we got canned goods we could actually use, so we gave most of it to our friends who have housing and the waitresses at the Denny's we sleep in the lot of.

I shop at Dollar Stores, I shop at Grocery Outlet, I shop at Walmart for the cheap stuff. But a lot of what we eat is fast food (Wendy's 4 for $4 at my mom's senior discount, the $2/$4/$6/$8 menu at Denny's, McDonald's $1/$2/$3 menu, the $3 hash brown things Jack In The Box has and since I can't take medication for headaches anymore, trenta-sized drinks at Starbucks that I tend to get three refills for including one to take to the car for the next morning since my refills are free with my Gold card) which is not only hella expensive, but is wreaking havoc on my body. Even when I can survive for a while on Cup of Noodles, that's also really bad for someone with arthritis and fibromyalgia who's overweight.

There's also the water issue. I tend to get a lot of free water from Starbucks, but I also tend to spend a good $15 a month on bottled water to supplement that when I'm NOT at Starbucks (especially when I overheat because of my meds). Trust me, while nowhere near as bad as other places, you don't want to drink a ton of So Cal tap water without additives like flavor packets or lemon juice. But it's something my doctors want me to do, so I try and switch out coffee for water/tea every once in a while for something healthier.

So yeah, there's a lot of expenses. It is HELLA expensive being homeless and living in a car and chronically ill, especially when the two people doing it both have different illnesses with different needs (because whoa boy, let me tell you how badly my mother is managing her diabetes right now and how much that scares the shit out of me, and the fact she can't get her blood sugar down low enough to get her PET scan to find out if the breast cancer she had is gone). I am going to call the housing people in Encinitas today if they're in the office since I finally got my Section 8 info changed over and I can just give that coordinator my phone number separately, but yeah. This is the reality I've been living with for the last eight months and it sucks.