#Car Wash in Sacramento

[moroautospausa]

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[cobaltperun]

Lost (13) - Easier to run

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: I don't go into details, but the ending might be a bit, uncomfortable.

Word count: 4.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Just washing it aside all of the helplessness inside pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change-

Everyone who knew you and Tara for more than a day would likely say Tara was the one exception to your every rule. That all Tara had to do to get something from you would be to simply ask. There were plenty of activities that were only permitted to Tara. From stealing your clothes, in her defense they were comfy, and she felt like you were hugging her whenever she wore them, all the way to interrupting your training for valid, though admittedly silly, reasons. What? She needed her kisses and hugs!

Well, those people had no idea what they were talking about because all the tricks in the books weren't making you give in.

"Come on, Y/N," Tara was getting desperate at this point. Puppy eyes, which she almost never had to resort to in the first place didn't help, and all the other options she used failed just as spectacularly, for there was one thing you didn’t let Tara do, no matter how much you loved her. She pleaded, begged, she bargained, she tried seduction, promised things that made you smile at the mere thought of them, promised things that made you a flustered mess. Yet none of those methods worked. "Please! I'll do anything you want, or let you do anything you want," her pleading went unanswered as you got in your car.

"If you loved me, you'd do this for me," a low blow, but she was getting desperate. She wanted to drive, that looked like so much fun, and it’s been a while since she last drove!

You lowered your window and looked at Tara with the flattest look she had ever seen on your face. "Tara, you're not driving my car, now get in," she had no idea, but both of you had the same thought going through your heads. 'I have the most stubborn girlfriend ever.'

"You let Sam drive it," Tara grumbled when she relented and got in the passenger seat.

"I was injured! You can drive it if I'm dying or high on painkillers!" you exclaimed, clearly getting riled up over Tara's insistence on driving your precious car. Tara couldn't help herself, she grinned at your reaction. There was just something inherently appealing and maybe even a bit exciting in knowing that regardless of how much she pushed your buttons you'd only get annoyed and even then, you'd calm down after a bit of making out. So, while she really wanted to drive to Sacramento, getting you riled up would have to do.

Only... she just realized she couldn't make out with you while you were driving, and driving alone would calm you down. Tara was getting nothing out of half an hour's worth of effort.

Shit.

She guessed she could at least give you silent treatment for a bit. You were driving anyway, and not liking to talk while driving wasn’t limited to just phone, you didn’t like talking at all. You loved listening, and Tara happily talked throughout the entire rides, with you providing minimal verbal response. Honestly, she loved that about you, because you were a really careful driver, and she never had to worry about you as far as that was concerned.

“Come on, surely you’re not still moody over not driving?” you spoke up fifteen minutes after you left Woodsboro.

Tara hummed and turned her head to the side, pretending to ignore you. You huffed and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide the smirk on her face.

“Okay, okay, be moody. I guess we aren’t going to stop by that nice place on the side of the road, the one with that kiwi flavored ice cream you loved so much,” you had to be smirking, you absolutely had to be smirking. She heard it in your voice, you tease.

“Fine, fine, I’m not moody anymore,” she raised her hands and turned to look at you, after all, you did promise to stop by for kiwi ice cream.

“That’s my girl!” your smirk shifted into a happy grin causing Tara to blush.

~X~

Ever since choosing Blackmore University as the next step in your education, you made sure you went to Sacramento to visit Susan at least once a month, and Tara made sure she was with you every single time. In a week you'd be leaving Woodsboro so it wouldn't be as easy to travel from New York to Sacramento whenever you wanted to. So, that's how you ended up in Susan's guest bedroom with Tara getting ready to go to bed.

The fact that Tara was the one sleeping closer to the doors was enough proof of how the two of you felt regarding Susan. Right now, you and Tara were sitting on the bed, just about ready to lie down and sleep.

"I'm proud of you two, and yes, I already said that, and I'm going to keep saying that," Susan smiled, it felt good to hear someone say that, especially since it was directed at Tara too.

"Thank you," you glanced at Tara, noticing a small blush dusting her cheeks.

Every time Susan did something that made Tara feel welcomed and loved you couldn't help but like the woman just a bit more than before. "Thanks, mo-" you froze, your eyes wide as you realized what word nearly slipped past your lips.

You could feel your face burning as you wished for the ground to open and swallow you. Or for a bolt of lightning to strike you. Or anything, really, that could save you from embarrassment. Unconsciously you dropped down to the bed, behind Tara, thus hiding at least your face behind her.

A soft chuckle made you reach out and pull Tara closer to you as the bed muffled your embarrassed groan. "Good night," Susan closed the doors behind her.

Tara giggled, enjoying your unfortunate slip of the tongue. "Y/N," she pulled away from you, but only so she could lie down next to you and pull your head to her chest. "It's okay," she whispered softly, gently massaging the back of your head. "It was cute," she was enjoying this a bit too much.

"I'll never recover from embarrassment," you complained, even if you felt a bit better now.

"You're adorable when you get embarrassed," Tara actually cooed, only increasing the embarrassment you felt.

"No, I'm not. I'm an MMA fighter," you were a fighter, always ready for a brawl, proven to be one of the strongest female fighters in the world without even reaching your peak. You were not going to take this.

Tara shifted so she was face to face with you. "I don't see how one excludes the other, you're my adorable MMA fighter," the soft kisses were definitely making you just take it.

"You're lucky I love you," you playfully warned when Tara stopped kissing you for a moment.

"Oh, I know," there was a mischievous glint in Tara's eyes. Frankly, any other time this would probably escalate further, but you were at Susan's house and the mere idea of going further than kissing and cuddling felt strange, so, Tara just snuggled up to you and closed her eyes, content and happy to be here with you.

~X~

She made a mistake.

She made a terrible, awful, ridiculously stupid, mistake!

Why did she want to drive so much in the first place? Oh, yeah, because she hasn’t driven in a long time and really wanted to do it. Well, you let her drive on the way back and the car was absolutely, a hundred percent, against her. Shifting gears felt like being tossed back and forth, and why, just why did you have to go for a manual car instead of an automatic one? Sure they were cheaper, but still! Something told her you would still choose a manual car over an automatic even if you had more money.

“I’m so sorry,” Tara narrowed her eyes as she noticed you rubbing the audio system gently as if you were apologizing to your car. Actually, you were apologizing to it. And Tara felt her eye twitch at that.

You’ll see when she gets out of the city. And then she had to stop at a traffic light, on an incline. “Oh, shit,” she muttered, trying to remember what she needed to do. In her defense she didn’t have a car, and the last time she drove was almost three years ago. Maybe you had a point when you didn’t let her drive your car.

“What?” you turned to look at her and noticing her panic you placed a hand on her shoulder. “Easy Tara, you’ve got this,” she nodded, for all the complaints and refusal to let her drive you still had faith in her that she could do this. That calmed her down and she pulled the handbreak and relaxed until the traffic light turned green. She gently released the clutch and pressed the gas and lowered the handbreak, getting the car to move again. She let out a sigh and smiled as you placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, and she didn’t need to look at you to know you were smiling. And the rest of the ride, well, it wasn’t smooth, but she didn’t feel nervous. You were next to her, and well, Tara would be the first to admit she kinda sucked at the whole driving thing, but everything turned out fine.

She parked like a pro in front of your apartment building. She still remembered getting into trouble with Judy when you were teaching her how to drive. She let you off the hook only if you promised to keep your lessons on the parking lots, and with your patience Tara learnt how to park perfectly. The driving part… well, not so much. You tried, you really did, after she got her driver license, but by that point you were already living in your apartment, working and actively preparing for your first fight, so Tara wanted to spend what time you had together doing something other than driving. “Home sweet home,” she said and stepped out of the car, you could have it back, she drove enough for a while.

~X~

Leaving Woodsboro and coming to New York, was, perhaps, the best decision you could make, especially for Tara. She was happy, relaxed, even excited, it was like she was being completely free for the first time in her life. Free from her mother, her past, from everything negative related to Woodsboro.

Nothing told you Tara was feeling better as well as the way you woke up that morning. It would be an understatement to say it was a surprise to wake up in your new apartment with Tara drawing random shapes on your left forearm with the tip of her finger.

Ever since Tara was attacked when the two of you slept together the two of you either spooned or slept in the same position as you were in this morning, with Tara's head on your chest, and your arms protectively around her. Cradle position, or something like that, Tara once told you.

"Hey, Love," you rasped, still a bit sleepy.

Tara leaned up, kissing the right side of your jaw. "Good morning, Y/N," you felt her smiling as she peppered kisses along your jaw. "We've got a long day ahead of us," she reminded you, though with the way she nuzzled into your neck you figured she wasn't too eager to get up.

"Let's see, we're meeting that girl who answered our ad for a roommate, Sam has a job interview, I have first MMA classes," Thomas really saved your ass with that. He paid well, maybe even too well, it wasn't a full-time job, and you could use it to stay in shape as well. Because of how well he paid Sam would only need to work one job, instead of two that she was planning on. Tara could focus on studying, besides, with her asthma job options were even more limited. If she wanted to get a job eventually neither you nor Sam would stop her, but she deserved to take it easy at least for a year.

You also retired with quite a bit of money from the deal to retire quietly and the two fights you had. You considered investing it in something but figured it would be smarter to wait for a bit and see how things worked out in New York.

"Mhm, and we have to go do some shopping, mostly for our kitchen," Tara reminded you. That would be a bit of an annoyance since Sam just had to insist on getting the top floor, no elevator in the building, apartment.

"I still can't believe there are so many stairs in this building, or that we actually have rooms now. And a kitchen. That isn't connected to the living room and bedroom. And two damn bathrooms. And three bedrooms. We have a separate dining area, Tara, a proper dining area with a table!" having spent almost three years in a cramped apartment made this feel surreal. Even the damn bed you were sleeping in was bigger now!

Tara laughed, tickling you slightly with her breath. "You can actually work out here," she teased you.

"That too!" you eagerly agreed. Finally, you could get rid of any nervous energy without heading to the gym. Granted, you didn’t have to do it that often, but just the fact that you could do it was enough. “And you can’t complain about that. Remember what you did the last time I did push-ups?”

Tara nodded, raising her head, and nibbling on your ear lightly. “Mhm, I sat on your back,” and she sounded so damn proud of that.

A knock on the door got your attention before you could reply to that. "Are you two decent?" Sam's voice came from the other side.

"Yeah!" Tara immediately said as she lowered her head back down and stopped teasing you. And you were decent, clothes on, room clean, you were just still in bed. Still, after Sam barely avoided catching the two of you in a not-quite-decent state she got into a habit of asking before entering. And you were thankful for that, because while you deeply cared about Sam, neither you nor Tara wanted her to walk in on you. And Sam was just as disturbed by the idea, so this was truly the best option.

"I was about to head to the store, do you need anything?" Sam asked, smiling when she saw Tara so happy this early in the morning.

Tara shook her head. "I'm good, thanks Sam."

"Same here, I'll get the breakfast ready when you come back," honestly, you got used to Sam living with you and Tara really quickly. It almost made you sorry someone else, a stranger nonetheless, was about to join the three of you.

"I'll be back soon," Sam left the two of you and you stretched a bit before finally getting up.

"You two are going to spoil me," Tara sat up as well, yawning slightly.

You took the T-shirt you slept in off and went to the wardrobe to get a clean shirt. "Nothing wrong with that, Love," besides, it wasn't like Tara didn't do anything, she had her own chores, it's just that they usually didn’t involve cooking, though she did cook every now and then, or cleaning that could trigger her asthma.

“Mhm, how about I spoil you as well?” she came up behind you, got on her tiptoes and kissed your neck, her hands sliding up your arms.

You turned around, capturing her lips in a quick kiss. “What did you have in mind?” you lifted her up, smirking teasingly as she pulled back and hugged you.

“How about we watch your favorite movie, and I’ll order our favorite snacks and food, so you don’t have to cook tonight?” she asked, and your eyes lit up at that. She could definitely spoil you like that.

~X~

You were late. Thomas took up some of your time to talk about the first classes you taught as well as to catch up a bit. After everything he did you kind of couldn't just leave. Besides, Tara and Sam were meeting this girl, Quinn Bailey if you remembered correctly, in public, far enough from the apartment. Her dad was a cop, so that made it easier to drop your guard a bit.

As long as Tara and Sam were fine with the girl, you were sure you'd be fine with her too. If you were being completely honest, if Quinn managed to convince Sam she was harmless she was almost definitely in.

The bar Sam chose was busy, though not crowded, especially at this hour. People came and went, stopping by to get their coffee or to get out of the heat, but no one really stayed more than necessary. You came inside and looked around until you finally noticed Tara. When you joined Tara, Sam, and who you assumed was Quinn, you quickly leaned down to kiss Tara's cheek, gave Sam a brief one-armed hug, and only then offered your hand to Quinn. "Y/N L/N, sorry I'm late," you said.

Quinn accepted the handshake. "Damn, and I thought Sam was jacked, but look at you," she whistled as you sat down next to Tara.

Well, it wasn't the first time someone noticed your muscles, but the girl in front of you was pretty much ogling you right now. "Right, moving on," not the best first impression, but you could brush it off. Tara, who was frowning, probably wouldn't though.

"Where's the rush? I wouldn't mind having some fun," what was this woman trying to accomplish? You really couldn't figure it out. Was she trying to piss Tara off or something?

"Well, have fun. Without me," you reached down underneath the table to rub circles into Tara's right palm. Feeling the way she squeezed your hand it was the right decision.

"Life, I have found, is about variety, Y/N," she leaned in, reaching over toward your hand.

"Mine is about one person," you pulled your hand back before she could touch it. Tara loosened her hold on your hand, but still leaned a bit closer. You could see she was glaring daggers at Quinn and Sam didn't appreciate it either.

Quinn had a bit of a frown on her face, but it quickly changed and she began laughing. "I'm just joking with you, though I really wouldn't mind taking a closer look," she openly ogled you.

Tara faked a cough. "Well, I'm not. I'm sorry we wasted your time Quinn," there was no need for Tara to finish that sentence.

Quinn had the guts to look shocked. "Are you serious right now?"

"Absolutely," Sam took Tara's side and you just shrugged, as if to tell her 'Well, what did you expect would happen?'

"Unbelievable," Quinn pretty much stormed off.

"Do we really need a roommate? The extra bedroom can be used if Chad or Mindy decide to sleep over," Tara voiced what all three of you were thinking.

"That's probably the best option," Sam agreed, help with rent would have been welcome, but you could manage without it.

"You won't catch me complaining, that's for sure," you were definitely in favor of keeping the apartment to just the three of you. Not to mention it was the safest option.

"Speaking of the apartment, let's go back," Tara was already up and pulling you along. Sam still had her job interview, so it would just be you and Tara.

Kitchen equipment shopping could clearly wait, as you could see she was still pissed off by the time you reached the building, so you picked her up bridal style. "Don't tell me you're jealous," you eventually asked and grinned as Tara placed her arm on your back.

"I'm not," she huffed as she unlocked your apartment.

She locked the doors behind you two and you went right to the bedroom. "What is it then?" you asked and lowered her down on the bed,

"You're mine," okay, that sounded way more possessive than you were used to from Tara. She said you were hers every now and then, usually when you were making love, this time though her tone was different. This wasn't born of passion, or said in the heat of the moment, this was pure jealousy.

"So, you are jealous," you sighed, letting her pull you in until you were pressing against her.

"Of course I am. She, she just-" Tara huffed and let go of you, spreading her arms on the bed. You immediately recognized the mood swings from right after the attack. Your best guess was that this one was caused by Quinn attempting to take you from Tara.

"Tara," you slowly kissed her neck, gradually making your way up to her lips. "I'm yours. The only variety I want to consider is the variety of ways I can make you say my name," you grinned a bit as you heard Tara's breath hitch.

No fourth roommate. Just the three of you. With Woodsboro left behind. It felt like nothing could go wrong. You should have known better. You should have noticed Tara was too focused on ignoring Woodsboro.

You should have realized Tara was running away from what happened the moment you caught her covering the scar on her hand.

You only realized it two months after you came to New York when she first disappeared.

~X~

She may have had a bit too much to drink tonight. That might be a bit difficult to explain in the morning. Where was she anyway? She felt nauseous, but she still drank whatever alcohol was currently in her cup. Who exactly brought her here anyway? She was at one party, then somehow ended up at another one. Maybe. At this point, she was too drunk to know for sure.

How was she going to get home?

Oh well, problems for later.

She felt hands on her waist. The grip was strong. You? No, no, it was too firm, too forceful. She stumbled back, her head clearing enough to vaguely recognize a guy who was at the first party.

"What's wrong? You want this, right?"

She heard the words, but she couldn't quite understand them. The alcohol was making it very hard to stay steady on her feet. Oh, this was a mistake.

"No," she slurred, a lot like how her mother would and for a moment she felt disgusted by her behavior.

The guy laughed, clearly not believing her. "I'll take good care of you, don't worry about it."

Even as drunk as she was she felt her blood run cold. "Y/N," you weren't there, you weren't with her. She imagined your voice, telling her to breathe, angry at her, but more than anything worried about her asthma.

There was a crash and what sounded like wood cracking and then she felt safe. She felt the fresh air against her cheeks, strong arms holding her close, protecting her from anything and anyone. "I got you Tara, I got you," she heard and fell asleep in your arms.

~X~

You came back to the apartment when it was almost midnight, with Tara completely passed out due to who knows how much alcohol she drank. Sam met you at the doors, her legs too shaky to let her meet you outside. You weren't doing much better, you had hundreds of worst-case scenarios running through your head.

Sam reached out to Tara when you stopped at the front door. She shakily touched Tara's cheek, then lowered her hand to wipe a bit of drool coming out of Tara's mouth.

"Y/N...?" there was a silent question in the way Sam said your name. You saw fear in her eyes, and you were sure it was in your eyes as well.

"I think I made it in time," she nodded when you said that, leaving the unspoken question to hang in the air. The terrifying possibility that might happen if Tara doesn’t stop doing this. You didn't say it, and neither did Sam, but when you lowered Tara on the bed as gently as you possibly could Sam stepped out. So, you checked, just in case. Just in case you had to immediately get back to that damned house and murder anyone still there.

Luckily, you don't need to do that. Your hands trembled as you put your shirt on Tara and you released a muffled cry of relief when Tara just curled up, peacefully sleeping in your bed. "God damn it, Tara," you stumbled to the dining room, where Sam is expecting you. "Everything's fine," you fell apart the moment you dropped into the chair.

You pressed your hands against your eyes as you began sobbing uncontrollably. For hours you managed to hold it in, and now it all came crashing down upon you. You tried to keep it down, to be as silent as possible, but all those efforts resulted in coughs and gasps as more sobs tore through your body.

Sam was no different. shaking and crying her heart out and you just stumbled over to her and pulled her closer. And she let you, she clung to you in a way that reminded you of Tara. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, or how long it took for tears to dry up. You just feel lighter when you separated from Sam.

"We owe Anika," you finally said, your voice cracking and hoarse, you were tired from all the crying.

Sam nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.

You realized Tara was gone when, around nine p.m. you called Mindy to see why Tara wasn't answering her phone. And then all hell broke loose because Tara wasn't with Mindy or Chad, and she wasn't answering her phone. So, it turned into an all-out search. Driving from one party to another until Mindy called you an hour and a half later. Anika saw Tara at a party and before Anika could do anything Tara left with all the wrong people.

It took slamming a man into the wall to get the address. Miles away from where you were. Miles away from your apartment. So, you drove even more recklessly than you did when you were trying to catch up to Sam.

And you found Tara.

And you wouldn't be surprised if you broke more than a couple of bones at that house.

And you called Sam to tell her the moment you lowered Tara onto the backseat of your car.

And you brought Tara back home.

And she was fine.

Just so damn drunk she barely even registered you were there.

You'd deal with Tara's recklessness first thing in the morning. Right now, you just needed to go to bed and hold her. So, you did just that, you didn’t even have to pull her closer, because the moment you slipped under the covers, she instinctively moved closer to you.

“Y/N,” she mumbled, still drunk and asleep.

You just sighed and wrapped your arms around her holding her close so you wouldn’t fall apart once again.

~X~

Her head was killing her, and she moved closer to you, hoping that would help her go back to sleep, but it wasn’t working, she had one hell of a hangover and wasn’t feeling that good. Slowly she blinked, adjusting to the light and then she looked at your face. Tara’s eyes widened as she realized you were crying.

You… she never saw you crying before, and yet you cried last night. And then the memories of what happened came back, making her feel nauseous. She drank too much, didn’t answer her phone, went to a party to a part of town she didn’t even know, and she remembered the look on that guy’s face, the realization that she wasn’t safe and then you came and got her out of there. Tara swallowed the lump in her throat and hugged you tighter.

She messed up, she knew that, but the alcohol made her forget about Woodsboro, about everything that happened. She just wanted to be a normal teenager, to go out to parties, to not live in the past and let those three days define her.

And with the freedom she just now found she didn’t know when or how to stop.

A/N: Honestly, I think Tara was mostly fine in Woodsboro, but then New York gives her all the opportunities to pretend nothing wrong happened, and we gradually reach Scream 6 Tara from the party.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Hypothetical AI election disinformation risks vs real AI harms

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT (Feb 27) in Portland at Powell's. Then, onto Phoenix (Changing Hands, Feb 29), Tucson (Mar 9-12), and more!

You can barely turn around these days without encountering a think-piece warning of the impending risk of AI disinformation in the coming elections. But a recent episode of This Machine Kills podcast reminds us that these are hypothetical risks, and there is no shortage of real AI harms:

https://soundcloud.com/thismachinekillspod/311-selling-pickaxes-for-the-ai-gold-rush

The algorithmic decision-making systems that increasingly run the back-ends to our lives are really, truly very bad at doing their jobs, and worse, these systems constitute a form of "empiricism-washing": if the computer says it's true, it must be true. There's no such thing as racist math, you SJW snowflake!

https://slate.com/news-and-politics/2019/02/aoc-algorithms-racist-bias.html

Nearly 1,000 British postmasters were wrongly convicted of fraud by Horizon, the faulty AI fraud-hunting system that Fujitsu provided to the Royal Mail. They had their lives ruined by this faulty AI, many went to prison, and at least four of the AI's victims killed themselves:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/British_Post_Office_scandal

Tenants across America have seen their rents skyrocket thanks to Realpage's landlord price-fixing algorithm, which deployed the time-honored defense: "It's not a crime if we commit it with an app":

https://www.propublica.org/article/doj-backs-tenants-price-fixing-case-big-landlords-real-estate-tech

Housing, you'll recall, is pretty foundational in the human hierarchy of needs. Losing your home – or being forced to choose between paying rent or buying groceries or gas for your car or clothes for your kid – is a non-hypothetical, widespread, urgent problem that can be traced straight to AI.

Then there's predictive policing: cities across America and the world have bought systems that purport to tell the cops where to look for crime. Of course, these systems are trained on policing data from forces that are seeking to correct racial bias in their practices by using an algorithm to create "fairness." You feed this algorithm a data-set of where the police had detected crime in previous years, and it predicts where you'll find crime in the years to come.

But you only find crime where you look for it. If the cops only ever stop-and-frisk Black and brown kids, or pull over Black and brown drivers, then every knife, baggie or gun they find in someone's trunk or pockets will be found in a Black or brown person's trunk or pocket. A predictive policing algorithm will naively ingest this data and confidently assert that future crimes can be foiled by looking for more Black and brown people and searching them and pulling them over.

Obviously, this is bad for Black and brown people in low-income neighborhoods, whose baseline risk of an encounter with a cop turning violent or even lethal. But it's also bad for affluent people in affluent neighborhoods – because they are underpoliced as a result of these algorithmic biases. For example, domestic abuse that occurs in full detached single-family homes is systematically underrepresented in crime data, because the majority of domestic abuse calls originate with neighbors who can hear the abuse take place through a shared wall.

But the majority of algorithmic harms are inflicted on poor, racialized and/or working class people. Even if you escape a predictive policing algorithm, a facial recognition algorithm may wrongly accuse you of a crime, and even if you were far away from the site of the crime, the cops will still arrest you, because computers don't lie:

https://www.cbsnews.com/sacramento/news/texas-macys-sunglass-hut-facial-recognition-software-wrongful-arrest-sacramento-alibi/

Trying to get a low-waged service job? Be prepared for endless, nonsensical AI "personality tests" that make Scientology look like NASA:

https://futurism.com/mandatory-ai-hiring-tests

Service workers' schedules are at the mercy of shift-allocation algorithms that assign them hours that ensure that they fall just short of qualifying for health and other benefits. These algorithms push workers into "clopening" – where you close the store after midnight and then open it again the next morning before 5AM. And if you try to unionize, another algorithm – that spies on you and your fellow workers' social media activity – targets you for reprisals and your store for closure.

If you're driving an Amazon delivery van, algorithm watches your eyeballs and tells your boss that you're a bad driver if it doesn't like what it sees. If you're working in an Amazon warehouse, an algorithm decides if you've taken too many pee-breaks and automatically dings you:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/17/revenge-of-the-chickenized-reverse-centaurs/

If this disgusts you and you're hoping to use your ballot to elect lawmakers who will take up your cause, an algorithm stands in your way again. "AI" tools for purging voter rolls are especially harmful to racialized people – for example, they assume that two "Juan Gomez"es with a shared birthday in two different states must be the same person and remove one or both from the voter rolls:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/eligible-voters-swept-up-conservative-activists-purge-voter-rolls/

Hoping to get a solid education, the sort that will keep you out of AI-supervised, precarious, low-waged work? Sorry, kiddo: the ed-tech system is riddled with algorithms. There's the grifty "remote invigilation" industry that watches you take tests via webcam and accuses you of cheating if your facial expressions fail its high-tech phrenology standards:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/16/unauthorized-paper/#cheating-anticheat

All of these are non-hypothetical, real risks from AI. The AI industry has proven itself incredibly adept at deflecting interest from real harms to hypothetical ones, like the "risk" that the spicy autocomplete will become conscious and take over the world in order to convert us all to paperclips:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/27/10-types-of-people/#taking-up-a-lot-of-space

Whenever you hear AI bosses talking about how seriously they're taking a hypothetical risk, that's the moment when you should check in on whether they're doing anything about all these longstanding, real risks. And even as AI bosses promise to fight hypothetical election disinformation, they continue to downplay or ignore the non-hypothetical, here-and-now harms of AI.

There's something unseemly – and even perverse – about worrying so much about AI and election disinformation. It plays into the narrative that kicked off in earnest in 2016, that the reason the electorate votes for manifestly unqualified candidates who run on a platform of bald-faced lies is that they are gullible and easily led astray.

But there's another explanation: the reason people accept conspiratorial accounts of how our institutions are run is because the institutions that are supposed to be defending us are corrupt and captured by actual conspiracies:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/09/21/republic-of-lies-the-rise-of-conspiratorial-thinking-and-the-actual-conspiracies-that-fuel-it/

The party line on conspiratorial accounts is that these institutions are good, actually. Think of the rebuttal offered to anti-vaxxers who claimed that pharma giants were run by murderous sociopath billionaires who were in league with their regulators to kill us for a buck: "no, I think you'll find pharma companies are great and superbly regulated":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

Institutions are profoundly important to a high-tech society. No one is capable of assessing all the life-or-death choices we make every day, from whether to trust the firmware in your car's anti-lock brakes, the alloys used in the structural members of your home, or the food-safety standards for the meal you're about to eat. We must rely on well-regulated experts to make these calls for us, and when the institutions fail us, we are thrown into a state of epistemological chaos. We must make decisions about whether to trust these technological systems, but we can't make informed choices because the one thing we're sure of is that our institutions aren't trustworthy.

Ironically, the long list of AI harms that we live with every day are the most important contributor to disinformation campaigns. It's these harms that provide the evidence for belief in conspiratorial accounts of the world, because each one is proof that the system can't be trusted. The election disinformation discourse focuses on the lies told – and not why those lies are credible.

That's because the subtext of election disinformation concerns is usually that the electorate is credulous, fools waiting to be suckered in. By refusing to contemplate the institutional failures that sit upstream of conspiracism, we can smugly locate the blame with the peddlers of lies and assume the mantle of paternalistic protectors of the easily gulled electorate.

But the group of people who are demonstrably being tricked by AI is the people who buy the horrifically flawed AI-based algorithmic systems and put them into use despite their manifest failures.

As I've written many times, "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, but we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job"

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

The most visible victims of AI disinformation are the people who are putting AI in charge of the life-chances of millions of the rest of us. Tackle that AI disinformation and its harms, and we'll make conspiratorial claims about our institutions being corrupt far less credible.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/27/ai-conspiracies/#epistemological-collapse

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[mariacallous]

Every so often along 99 between Bakersfield and Sacramento there is a town: Delano, Tulare, Fresno, Madera, Merced, Modesto, Stockton. Some of these towns are pretty big now, but they are all the same at heart, one- and two- and three-storey buildings artlessly arranged, so that what appears to be the good dress shop stands between a W. T. Grant store, so that the big Bank of America faces a Mexican movie house. Dos Peliculas, Bingo Bingo Bingo. Beyond the downtown (pronounced downtown with the Okie accent that now pervades Valley speech patterns) lie blocks of old frame houses – paint peeling, sidewalks cracking, their occasional leaded amber windows overlooking a Foster’s Freeze or a five-minute car wash or a State Farm Insurance office; beyond those spread the shopping centers and the mills of tract houses, pastel with redwood siding, the unmistakable signs of cheap building already blossoming on those houses which have survived the first rain. To a stranger driving 99 in an air-conditioned car (he would be on business, I suppose, any stranger driving 99, for 99 would never get a tourist to Big Sur or San Simeon, never get him to the California he came to see), these towns must seem so flat, so impoverished, as to drain the imagination. They hint at evenings spent hanging around gas stations, and suicide pacts sealed in drive-ins. But remember:

Q. In what way does the Holy Land resemble the Sacramento Valley? A. In the type and diversity of its agricultural products.

U.S. 99 in fact passes through the richest and most intensely cultivated agricultural region in the world, a giant outdoor hothouse with a billion-dollar crop. It is when you remember the Valley’s wealth that the monochromatic flatness of its towns takes on a curious meaning, suggests a habit of mind some would consider perverse. There is something in the Valley mind that reflects a real indifference to the stranger in his air-conditioned car, a failure to perceive even his presence, let alone his thoughts or wants. An implacable insularity is the seal of these towns. I once met a woman in Dallas, a most charming and attractive woman accustomed to the hospitality and social hypersensitivity of Texas, who told me that during the four war years her husband had been stationed in Modesto, she had never once been invited inside anyone’s house. No one in Sacramento would find this story remarkable (“She probably had no relatives there,” said someone to whom I told it), for the Valley towns understand one another, share a peculiar spirit. They think alike and they look alike. I can tell Modesto from Merced, but I have visited there, gone to dances there; besides there is over the main street of Modesto an arched sign which reads:

WATER – WEALTH CONTENTMENT – HEALTH

There is no such sign in Merced.

Notes From A Native Daughter – Joan Didion

[mrsvalbaker]

Amberline

Disclaimer: This story is going to be dedicated to a very good friend of mine, why she thinks I'm good enough to let me write a character for her, I dunno.

This a Kyle Scheible x OC, there's definitely smut, adult situations, all high school characters are portrayed by adults. There's mention of eating disorder.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part I

Sacramento High School was no longer a public school.

This year it was changed to a charter due to its very low performance.

To be honest, this town is now poor or rich, and I fall into the latter as my mother loves to remind me. It's why I've been babysitting since I was twelve, and why this past summer I was working at a doughnut stand at a fair, and this school year I'll be working at Blockbusters.

College doesn't pay for itself, and mom made it no secret that she wasn't going to donate one red cent, why should she even though my babysitting and doughnut money go toward the nice apartment we live in and toward her payments for her Lexus she can hardly afford.

I don't even have a car, and does she ever drive me to work or school? No, it's my bicycle or a bus.

She's one of those southern women that always drone on about earning things, telling me life ain't easy and I best get a grasp of that early, especially since I'll be joining the rich kids of Sacramento for my senior year.

Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic High School is so graciously funded by Charlene Sixkiller, my dearest mother. She said it'll help me get to a good school. I'm truly grateful, but I feel so pressured, I feel like school and me leaving at eighteen is all we talk about at home.

I don't even know what I want to do.

Like fuck.

I love writing but my mom says that it doesn't pay the bills. It's a big reason why she won't help me with college, because I'm choosing to be an English Major.

Okay so maybe I do know what I want to do with my life.

I write gothic novels, a cross between horror and romance. I'm not very good at it but I love writing, between that and my diary it's the only way I can actually express myself.

-

It's awkward going to Catholic school and you're not a catholic, mom was brought up southern Baptist, and I hardly know a damn thing about my dad. Although he's probably the same, being from the same area.

I've only been to my mom's hometown of Rocky Mountain, North Carolina five times in my life, and every single time I count the hours for when we return to California.

My dream school is UCLA. It's hard as hell to get into, but going to this school will help. L.A. is far enough from central California where I won't have to deal with my mom again, and besides my dad's there. Maybe I can find him, ask him why I wasn't worth sticking around for.

My alarm clock blared Good Charlotte throughout my room. With a long groan and a painful stretch, I literally threw myself out of bed.

Dragged myself to the bathroom and pulled myself into the shower. I know being goth at a catholic school is going to be a total nightmare, but I was still Gung ho on making a good first impression. I washed my hair twice with the fruity smell of my Garnier shampoo and conditioner. Then massaged my loreal color mask into my waist length black hair before combing it through and clipping it up on top of my head.

My acne is starting to clear up but there's still some stubborn blemishes on my cheek. I washed my face with a morning burst about four times before using the scrub, why did I have to have problematic skin? Between acne, my fat ass and my boobs, I felt like there were twenty signs to point out how much of an ugly freak I am. I still tried though, some days I didn't think I looked bad, but days like today…

I scrubbed my skin with my electric apple lathered loofah until it was red and raw, and then rinsed my hair mask. I turned on the radio and brushed my teeth to the new Red Hot Chilli Peppers song By the Way, my eyes gazed with judgment at my reflection. How shall I fix myself today? I was getting over an eating disorder from last year, this weight is new to me. My doctor said I looked great, but sometimes I see a dancing hippopotamus in fantasia.

I rubbed Ponds onto my face and Bath and body works toasted hazelnut lotion on my skin. I sprayed my Secret powdery deodorant on. Blowing drying my waist length, ebony hair took a half an hour and that was me rushing. I sealed it with my Garnier serum and then did my makeup, far too much black eyeliner just past the point of you have gone too far, and cherry chapstick.

I pulled on my black panties and bra before pulling on the gray pleated school skirt I was forced to wear, I felt like a soldier preparing for war. The white buttoned down shirt was tucked in and I threw on my black zipper hoodie leaving it unzipped. I pulled on black knee high socks and scrunched them down before tying on my doc martens oxfords. I shoved on my many bracelets from a Hot Topic haul and made sure my black, stretchy choker constricted my neck. I brushed my hair down one more time and sprayed on my Victoria's Secret love spell body spray I got for my last birthday. I looked at myself, the kohl making my green eyes pop like I was on something. I wouldn't call myself hideous, just not pretty, not enough.

I wasn't enough for my old friends, when I was found passed out in the girl's bathroom everything changed. Nobody wanted me around, Alyssa and Taylor stopped sitting with me at lunch, and Alyssa started dating my crush Zach. They all acted like we never met.

But I was always the one who brought the least to the group. If I couldn't make it to a Marilyn Manson concert, they still went, but when Alyssa had the flu and couldn't make it to Disneyland, everyone canceled.

I was the one who was everyone's shoulder to cry on, at twelve I taught Taylor how to use pads and take motrin when she got her period, I told Zach he was good at drums, and anytime Alyssa had guy troubles it was me who lost sleep talking to her until 3am on the phone, it was me who bought her Häagen-Dazs and watched her stupid guilty pleasure show with her, Sex and the city, it was me who washed her hair and ran her a bath.

But it was never enough. Who knows, maybe I'm not meant to be happy. It's not in the cards for me I think.

The main reason for starting fresh and going to a new school wasn't just about college. It was so I wouldn't have to see the faces of the people who were supposed to be my best friends in the whole world, and couldn't get off their asses to visit me in the hospital.

I put my headphones and placed my Simple Plan CD into my player and turned it on blast.

Mom already left for work, she wasn't the kind of mother to prepare me a big breakfast for my first day. I grabbed an apple and granola bar and left to go catch the bus, getting catcalled on the way by guys old enough to be my dad.

Getting on that school bus was what you expected, the kids caught a look at the girl with black hair and equally black eyeliner and snicker or get out my way faster than a bat out of hell.

I sat in the very back next to a girl with shoulder length, dirty blonde hair pushed back by a headband that matched her gray school skirt.

She started talking to me, I saw her mouth move but couldn't hear one word. What is wrong with her? Can't she see that I'm wearing headphones? I wanted to ignore her so badly but I could not be rude to save my life. So I tapped the pause button with a black nail and pushed my headphones down before looking at her. "Can I help you?"

She smiled and laughed. "I was just saying you're new, I've never seen you before."

She wanted to bother me for that? I smiled though. "Yes, you're right. How perceptive of you."

The girl just laughed. "I'm Gretchen, I go to Mary's too, what grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior."

"Me too! We're the only seniors on the bus, did you know that?"

Thank you Gretchen for making me feel like such a loser.

The bus ride consisted of Gretchen asking for my entire autobiography. Was she a news reporter or something? All she got out of me was that I went to Sacramento High, which she made a snobby face at, and that I didn't leave behind any friends.

Once we got off of the bus, she didn't leave me alone. She was telling me about everyone who went to our school. I nodded along without paying attention but couldn't find the heart to be mean. I mean she's taking the time to get to know me and be my own personal tour guide.

"Amberline is a really strange name." She said suddenly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I'll change it when I get the chance."

She laughed and I held back the urge to roll my eyes. "I'll just call you Amber, come on Amber I'll take you to morning mass?"

"Morning mass?"

She nodded. "It's a catholic school of course."

I followed her to the chapel, it was all very beautiful and sacred looking. Pairs and pairs of eyes focused on me though, and I noticed boys filing in, which confused me since this was an all girls school. I asked Gretchen about it.

"The boys school shares certain things with us like the chapel for morning mass." Then Gretchen gasped and whispered loudly to me. "Oh there he is!"

"Who?" I asked with confusion, she was acting hysterical.

"Kyle Scheible!"

Walking in the line of boys to the priest was a boy far too handsome to be in high school, but you could clearly tell he is in fact in high school. Is he the usual ghostly pale and manic panic black haired with piercings type I go for? No, he was so much better than that. Something I thought I'd never say.

I can't believe that I can actually understand Gretchen's state of hysteria, but I do.

He has hooded, sleepy looking dark green eyes, with flecks of Hazel, I saw this as he walked by me. His lashes were poetically long and his nose pronounced beautifully. His lips were drawn in a pout that matched his careless posture of hands buried in the pockets of his khakis, which should have taken away how hot he is but it didn't.

His hair, God his hair needed the attention of my fingers combing through the dark chocolate curls. He wore it longish in a poetic way, his lean physique made him look taller, and he has the sort of neck you just know smells so good.

And because Gretchen isn't that great of a whisperer, he did look over. It was a lazy look over at first, like he was used to these whispers of him, which he probably was. But then his lazily droopy eyes popped open and bit when looking over at us. At me.

Oh no, oh God he was looking over at me? I immediately felt self conscious, what if he notices my breakouts? What if he finds my nose strange or finds me annoying looking? It's a catholic school. What if my look was too Crucible for him? Why did this guy who I don't know, opinion matter so much to me?

He looked at me, he really looked at me– Oh God, he stepped out of line to walk over straight to me. I could barely hear Gretchen's panicking, it was just me and him in this place of worship. Someone whispered how Kyle never approaches anyone.

He then stood over me, my eyes widened a bit and a hardly there smirk painted his pursed lips. His dead eyes swept over me, and in a lazy voice he asked, "Do you smoke?"

"Yes."

I don't know why I said it, I've never touched cigarettes in my life and I've only had one beer when I decided alcohol wasn't for me. But for this mystery boy, I thoughtlessly said yes.

"I mean no, I lied, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." I said breathlessly. Why was I out of breath?"

Kyle just…smiled at me, it looked foreign on his lips like he wasn't used to it. "What's your name?" His voice was musically calm.

I opened my mouth to answer but I was up next to bite the wafer and sip the wine. I didn't hear from Kyle for the rest of the day.

@meetmyothersouls

[intelmobiledetailing]

Intel Mobile Detailing

Top Car Detailing Tips to Keep Your Car Looking New

Keeping your car looking brand new requires more than just a regular wash. Car Detailing involves a thorough cleaning, restoration, and finishing of both the interior and exterior of your vehicle. Whether you're a DIY enthusiast or prefer professional Mobile Car Detailing, these top tips will help you maintain your car's pristine condition. Top Car Detailing Tips

Start with the Interior Begin your Car Detailing with the interior to avoid any dirt or debris falling onto a freshly cleaned exterior. Use a vacuum to clean all surfaces, including seats, carpets, and hard-to-reach areas. For Interior Detailing, a steam cleaner can be particularly effective for deep cleaning fabric and carpets.

Use the Right Products Always use high-quality, vehicle-specific cleaning products. Avoid household cleaners as they can damage your car’s surfaces. For a safe and effective clean, use products designed for Mobile Car Detailing and Car Detailing Services.

Clean and Condition the Leather For leather seats and surfaces, use a dedicated leather cleaner followed by a conditioner. This not only cleans but also prevents cracking and aging, keeping the leather supple and looking new.

Detail the Exterior Wash your car with a high-quality car shampoo, avoiding dish soaps that can strip away wax and damage paint. After washing, use a clay bar to remove any bonded contaminants on the paint surface. Finish with a good wax or sealant to protect your car's paint and enhance its shine.

Pay Attention to the Wheels Clean your wheels and tires with a dedicated wheel cleaner. Use a brush to remove brake dust and grime. After cleaning, apply a tire dressing to keep your tires looking black and shiny.

Don't Forget the Engine Bay While often overlooked, cleaning the engine bay is crucial. Use a gentle degreaser and a brush to remove grime. This not only makes the engine look better but can also help you spot potential issues early.

Use Microfiber Towels When drying and polishing, always use microfiber towels. They are gentle on your car's surfaces and help prevent scratches.

FAQs

1. What is the difference between Car Detailing and a regular car wash?

Car Detailing involves a thorough cleaning and restoration of both the interior and exterior of your vehicle. A regular car wash typically focuses only on the exterior.

2. Can I perform Mobile Car Detailing myself?

Yes, with the right products and tools, you can perform Mobile Car Detailing at home. However, professional services offer expertise and specialized equipment for superior results.

3. How often should I detail my car?

It's recommended to detail your car every 4-6 months. However, the frequency may vary based on your driving conditions and environment.

4. What are the benefits of using professional Car Detailing Services?

Professional Car Detailing Services offer high-quality products, specialized tools, and expertise to thoroughly clean and protect your vehicle. They save you time and ensure superior results.

5. Why is waxing important in Car Detailing?

Waxing protects your car's paint from UV rays, contaminants, and minor scratches. It also enhances the shine, making your car look new.

Maintaining your car’s appearance requires regular and thorough Car Detailing. Whether you choose to do it yourself or opt for Mobile Car Wash and professional Car Detailing Services, following these top tips will ensure your vehicle remains in top condition. Regular detailing not only enhances your car’s appearance but also protects its value. Trust Intel Mobile Detailing for all your Car Detailing near me needs, and keep your car looking its best all year round.

Contact Us

Address: 4705 Crimson Ct, Sacramento, CA 95842, United States

Phone : +1 (916) 342-9744

Website: https://inteldetailingsacramento.com/

[detailmaniac]

Detail Maniac specializes in complete automotive care and paint restoration. We previously provided clients professional paint & headlight restoration, interior cleaning & odor neutralization, fabric & leather treatment, clay-bar & waxing, paint sealants, ECO waterless car wash, and much more. Detail Maniac guides hands-on enthusiasts with the proper chemicals, pads, & equipment necessary for total vehicle maintenance and care. Currently, we only focus on paint protection film (PPF/Clear Bra), Ceramic Coatings, and Ceramic/Graphene window tint.

For More Information Visit Our Website: https://detailmaniac.com

[eliteautoworksca]

Standard post published to Elite Auto Works CA at November 05, 2022 19:00

Paint Protection in Sacramento, CA

If you're looking for paint protection in Sacramento, CA, you've come to the right place. We offer various services to keep your car looking its best, and we're always happy to answer any questions you may have. Whether you're looking for a simple wash and wax or a full detail, we have you covered. We also offer a variety of protection packages to keep your car looking new. Our most popular package is our full-service protection package, which includes everything you need to keep your car looking its best. We start with a hand wash and wax, then complete interior and exterior detail. We then apply a clear bra to the front of your car to protect it from rock chips and other road debris.

https://elite-auto-works-ca.business.site/posts/6251925369738605092

Learn more

source https://local.google.com/place?id=7218050079035578857&use=posts&lpsid=7592022385699956095

[mycheerykid]

Blue Llama RetractaClip™️ (Pacifier Holder) Your solution to ALL your pacifier problems! Tired of your baby dropping their pacifier? Introducing the patent-pending Retractable Pacifier Clip! It extends about 10 inches, so it is long enough to be clipped on more places -- on your baby's waistband, blanket, stroller, car seat, etc. You can also clip it to the onesie/shirt collar. Regardless, it will automatically retract when the baby spits out the pacifier. Suitable for babies up to 18 months old. Why the RetractaClip? A parent's must-have for their pacifier lovin' baby! No more loose cords near your baby’s neck Our RetractaClip is the safer alternative to regular pacifier clips because it keeps the cord short near the baby's neck. Also, no more tangled cords around arms, legs, or under their bottoms. The RetractaClip keeps the pacifier in close reach. No more dragging the pacifier when the baby crawls Now, keeping your baby’s pacifier germ-free gets more important than ever! Our RetractaClip keeps the pacifier from dragging on the ground when the baby crawls. Also, it prevents the pacifier from getting lost, dropped, or thrown. No more unlooping to disconnect the pacifier Thanks to our quick release clip, you can quickly and easily remove the whole RetractaClip from the baby without having to worry about taking the pacifier out of their mouth to unloop and disconnect. It also lets you switch to a different pacifier or to a teether in seconds! More options for where to clip it on It’s the only short and long pacifier in one that can be extended and clipped to your baby’s waistband or other locations. Plus, our RetractaClip only extends as long as standard pacifier clips already do. Details and care instructions CPSIA safety certified and patent pending. Made with non-toxic plastic. Spot clean with a damp cloth and mild soap/water. Do not place the clip in the washing machine or soak it in water. Doing so may compromise the overall quality of the clip and cause it to rust. Parent supervision is recommended. Dimensions: 8" l x 4" w x 1" h. Weight: 0.13 lb. About Little BaeBae I had just had my first baby, Ella, and was a new stay-at-home mom. I wanted a creative outlet and decided to teach myself how to sew and start a little online baby shop—selling handmade baby accessories. During this time I also came up with my idea for a retractable pacifier clip. Ella was obsessed with pacifiers. Once we discovered pacifier clips, we were so happy that they kept us from losing her pacifiers. They also kept her from throwing her pacifier to the ground. But we quickly realized there were two major problems with regular pacifier clips—they are a long and loose enough to accidentally get wrapped around the baby's neck and they allowed the pacifier to drag on the ground while the baby crawled. As a tired new mom, I was afraid I’d forget to remove the pacifier clip when Ella fell asleep with it, which meant removing the pacifier from her mouth in order to remove the pacifier clip—which risked waking her (every parent's nightmare!). Sometimes during her naps, I literally sat and watched the baby video monitor because I realized as I closed the nursery door, that I had forgotten to remove the pacifier clip. Designed In Sacramento, California Established 2018 Brand values Social Good Get the Best pacifier Holder Clip, now! If you have any questions about our Best pacifier Holder or our service detail, please feel free to message us by visiting our Contact page and you can also visit our Facebook page.

[moroautospausa]

Elevating Your Ride with Premier Car Detailing in Elk Grove & Sacramento

Experience Unmatched Shine and Precision with Moro Auto Spa

Unveiling the Ultimate Car Care Experience: At Moro Auto Spa, we're more than just a car wash; we're your partners in preserving the beauty and integrity of your vehicle. Our team of expert detailers is dedicated to providing unparalleled service, ensuring that every inch of your car receives the attention it deserves. From exterior hand washes to interior detailing, we leave no stone un turned in our quest to deliver excellence.

Elevate Your Ride with Premium Products and Techniques: We understand that your car is more than just a mode of transportation; it's a reflection of your style and personality. That's why we exclusively use premium products and cutting-edge techniques to rejuvenate and protect your vehicle's finish. Whether it's our signature ceramic coating or our meticulous hand waxing, you can trust Moro Auto Spa to enhance your car's shine and longevity.

Tailored Solutions for Every Vehicle: At Moro Auto Spa, we recognize that each car is unique, which is why we offer personalized detailing packages tailored to your specific needs. Whether you drive a compact sedan, a rugged SUV, or a luxurious sports car, our team has the expertise and resources to address any challenge. From deep cleaning carpets to restoring leather upholstery, we go above and beyond to exceed your expectations.

Convenience Meets Quality with Mobile Detailing Services: We understand that your time is valuable, which is why we offer convenient mobile detailing services to accommodate your busy schedule. Whether you're at home, at the office, or enjoying a day out, our team will come to you equipped with everything needed to give your car the attention it deserves. Experience the ultimate in convenience without compromising on quality with Moro Auto Spa.

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[sacstreetview]

Chestnut Ave., Orangevale, California

2011, 2015, 2019

[moondancediner]

Be My Escape

Chapter One: Home

summary: penny's forced to return to her hometown of beacon hills

warnings: Language, mentions of death, Slow-burn (Is that a warning?)

pairing: Stiles Stilinski x OC (eventual)

word count: 7k

a/n: Hello and welcome! This is my Teen Wolf rewrite with my original character Penny. I plan on doing a full rewrite of the whole series (and maybe the movie eventually) with this new character.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Also shout out to everyone who inspired me to keep writing this, your writings give me fuel on the bad days.

edited 9/17/2022

xoxo

masterlist || ch.2

---

Melissa was sure it was the middle of the night when her phone started ringing. She was also sure that whoever was on the other end of said phone was not going to like her very much after this call. The red glowing lights next to her confirmed her suspicions. She had only been asleep for 2 hours, having just gotten home from work and she didn’t bother to check the caller ID, mainly because her eyes weren’t fully open yet, and partly because she thought it would be the hospital, calling once again to try and drag her out of her warm bed for some unforeseen emergency that couldn’t wait until her next shift. 

“Hello?” She answered, rubbing some sleep out of her eyes. She heard a sniffle on the other end, before a voice that washed over her like an ocean wave, shockingly cold and alarming to her system, dragging her to the depths of a place she never thought she would see again. 

“Aunt Mel?” The little voice asked, hoping she still had the right number, trying to compose herself and calm her beating heart. Melissa sat straight up at the sound, panic coursing through her body before some of her training kicked in.

“Penelope? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Where are you? Where’s your mom?” She knows she asked too many questions but she couldn’t stop herself.

“She’s gone.” Penelope whispered, unable to say anything more, the tracks that started to dry on her cheeks wetting once again. Melissa tried to take a deep breath, tried to push down some anger and hurt for her niece, but the small whisper made her want to scream.

“What do you mean she’s gone sweetheart?” She sighed, slipping out of bed and getting herself ready for either a long drive or a long night. Melissa was met with sniffles on the other end, and a little sob and her heart broke a little more. “Hey, it’s okay just tell me what happened, Pen.”

“I don’t really know, she left again like she always does, but-but it was different this time, she was so scattered -and she-she kept saying someone was coming to get her and then some man just came to the apartment and told me I had to leave. I grabbed as much stuff as I could and got in my car and left - and, and, oh god I don’t even know where I am.” Penelope’s voice broke again as she sat in her car and cried for what felt like the 100th time tonight, head falling forward onto the steering wheel, phone clutched tight in her hand like a life-line.

Melissa took a deep breath, knowing her brother's daughter was at least safe, where she was though, was a whole other challenge. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, do you want me to come get you? I need you to look for some road signs to tell me where you are.” Melissa turned on her bedside lamp and slid on her slippers, ready to run out the door. 

Penelope gathered herself, cleared her throat and wiped her face for the upteenth time this evening - or rather, morning. “Um, well I’m definitely in California, I think I’m near Sacramento.” She gave a breathy laugh, knowing what her dad would be saying right now if he could see her. Girl got lost in her own driveway, what was she thinking driving across states in the middle of the night? 

Melissa let out a sigh of slight relief, at least she was in the same state, a very large state, but still not too far away. “Okay... are you okay to drive? I can come get you, or send someone?” Melissa listened to more sniffles and a few deep breaths before Penelope answered.

“No, no I think I’m okay, I just need to get on route 5 right? And go south?” Melissa heard her car start, which made her heart jump a little, just realizing she was probably pulled over on the side of some road where anyone could get her, all alone.

“Yes, look for Beacon Hills signs and then call me when you’re close-actually call me every thirty minutes, okay?” Melissa went full mom mode, fully intending to not lose another member of her family. She heard a grimm little chuckle on the other end of the phone.

“Okay aunt Mel, I promise I will.” After a pause, Melissa heard a very small, breathy thank you before the line went dead. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and laid back on her bed for a few seconds, gathering herself, before standing up and heading downstairs to make herself some coffee, glad she was working the night shift tomorrow - or rather, today - because there was no way she was going back to sleep now. Once downstairs, she made herself a pot of coffee and settled on the couch, turning on whatever was on TV at 2 am. 

---

It was almost 8AM by the time Penelope managed to find her way to Beacon Hills. Between missing her exits, stopping for bathroom breaks, and just getting straight-up lost, this was one of the only times she wished she had a newer car with a GPS. Or was smart enough to bring a phone charger that would work in her ancient car. After she hung up with her aunt, her phone had lasted just long enough to get her to route 5 before it tragically died, leaving her to do things the old fashioned way. She studied road signs and looked for familiar town names, and knew that pulling over to ask for directions was just asking for more trouble than she could handle. 

Once she was in Beacon Hills it was easy to remember where to go, the town wasn’t huge and she’d spent enough of her life here to remember the street her aunt and cousin lived on almost her whole life. A few neighbors gave Penny strange looks as her loud car rolled down their quiet, quaint little neighborhood, and she begrudgingly had to turn down the Motley Crüe blaring through her radio to deter some not so friendly neighbors.

She stopped in front of the McCall household, pushed her hunk of junk into park, and looked over the familiar surroundings. It looked exactly like she always remembered. Same color, same bushes and flowers, same sheer white curtains billowing in the morning breeze.

It took all of five seconds before her aunt was out the front door, still in her pajamas, covered by her robe, her arms crossed in front of her chest but wearing a relieved expression on her face.

Penny grabbed her stuffed duffel bag, and headed out. She was met with open arms and the smell of home almost immediately, and while she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears from hitting her aunt's shoulder. The flood gates opened once again from a well Penny thought was bone dry. Her body shook with her cries, and though she tried to control them, her tired body continued to shake. Penny squeezed her anchor tighter, holding on like her life depended on it. 

Melissa let out a sigh of relief, finally having her niece safe and in her arms. She gave her Penny an extra tight squeeze when she heard the first sniffle, and let herself get a little teary eyed as well. Melissa pulled back after a minute, but kept her hands on Penelope’s upper arms, rubbing them a few times. Melissa looked her over, and though she looked like the same old Penny - long dark hair, big brown eyes, impossibly long eyelashes, the slight crook in her nose from when she broke it all those years ago - the little sparkle that resided in her eyes was completely washed out. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” 

Penny followed her inside, into an actual home, so not like the many apartments she bounced around in through the past six years. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her flannel covered hand and looked around, it looked exactly the same - sans Scott - but she figured he left for school already. 

“Scott left for school already,” bingo, “he had practice this morning, but I didn’t tell him you were coming, so… fun surprise for him.” Melissa laughed a little and Penny smiled at her sense of humor. “You can put your stuff up in your usual room next to Scott’s, you’ll have to share a bathroom with him,” she made a face that said sorry about that, “but he doesn’t smell too bad, do you want some coffee, or breakfast?” 

“Oh, no I’m okay I stopped by Dunkin’ on my way here… well I stopped at pretty much every coffee place with a drive thru on my way here.” They shared a smile, and Penny dropped her duffel on the floor next to the kitchen table. Melissa eyed it while she stirred her next cup of coffee, a million questions behind her eyes, but she didn’t want to bombard her after the night she just went through.

“Well why don’t you go shower and change, I know you probably want to nap but we have to stop by and see a friend of mine before we go to the school and get you signed up.” Penny stopped in her spot, a slightly confused expression taking over her features, she wasn’t sure what to say if she was being honest. Part of Penelope thought she was just staying for a little while, until they found her mom, and then she could get on with her life, but Penny sensed that her aunt had other plans.

“What do you mean? What friend?” 

“Sweetheart, why don’t you sit down.” Penny obliged, if only because her world was slowly crumbling around her. “I called Sheriff Stilinski this morning before you got here, you remember Stiles right?” Stiles. Of course, how could she forget him? Not only was he Scott’s best friend, but when Penny lived in Beacon Hills he was hers too. At Penny’s head nod, Melissa continued, putting her hand on her niece’s arm, a sign of comfort that was not missed. “His dad is the Sheriff, and he thinks it’s in your best interest, and I agree with him, that you stay here with me until we can get this all settled with your mom. Which means the court is going to issue me temporary custody over you.” Melissa let the words sink in, seeing the shock and hurt written all over the young face next to her. Slowly, Penny started nodding, not trusting her words, and trying to accept what would become her new life. 

“What if we don’t find my mom?” Her voice was thick with tears and it shattered her aunt's heart. It was a grimm question, and Penny knew that but she had a bad feeling about her mom leaving this time. She was usually gone for a day, maybe three tops, and Penny never had any doubts that she would walk right back through their front door like nothing had happened, but some nagging voice in the back of her mind kept taunting her. You’ll never see your mommy again.

“If you want, I can get permanent custody and you can stay here until you’re 18… or we can find other family if you want to live with them,” Yeah right Penny thought, what other family? 

“I’m gonna go take that shower now.” Penelope stood suddenly, almost knocking the chair over and grabbed her duffle bag, which was overflowing with all the crap she doesn’t even remember throwing into it, and headed up the stairs, letting her feet take her in a direction they knew how to go all by themselves. 

Throwing open the door to her old room - her new possibly permanent room - she tossed her bag somewhere on the floor before moving to the bathroom door. Her brain processed nothing about the room as she walked through it, flung the door open until it hit with a bang against the wall to her right, hand automatically found the light switch while her body turned to the left and into the shower. She stepped in over the edge and turned the water on before sliding against the back tile until her body hit the bottom. Her breathing was shallow and quick and she was fully aware of the panic attack that was taking her over but was completely hopeless to stop it.

The cold water beating against her clothed body brought her some comfort, shocking her body into relaxing, and turning off her fight or flight instinct, but it did nothing to stop the full body sobs that were coming out of her. She didn’t try to be quiet, she just hoped her aunt, her sweet, loving, perfect motherly aunt, wouldn’t try to come in and stop her. 

----

It took about 20 minutes before she calmed down enough to actually take a shower, but even that was short lived, because after she peeled - literally peeled - her clothes off her body she realized she was in Scott’s shower and there was only one bottle in the whole tiled monstrosity. Seriously, what kind of psychopath uses three in one. She used it anyway, just on her body, and felt her skin cringe back in disgust. She was going to have to stop and get some real shampoo and conditioner before her next shower, since the psycho who came into her house this morning - uninvited - didn’t give her enough time to go into her bathroom and grab even a toothbrush. Bitch. 

She tried to quell the anger that rose in her. Her mother was no walk in the park to deal with on a daily basis, and she made some questionable choices when the cards were down but she never put her daughter in danger like that. Not even on her worst days. 

Penny stepped out of the shower, and grabbed a towel she hoped wasn’t used and dried off, walking into her room to grab her duffle. She unzipped and lazily dumped the contents onto the lilac sheet covered queen. Assessing her very limited options, she opted for ripped at the knee medium wash high rise jeans, a white plain slightly fitted tee, and her black denim jacket that she threw off and left on the couch downstairs when she walked in the door. Shoes were kind of a problem, seeing as she only brought one pair and they were soaked, hanging by their strings over the bathtub. 

She didn’t have many options, and seeing as she couldn’t wash her hair, so a braid was going to have to do while it dried. She never wore much makeup, unless she had a particularly nasty breakout, so mascara was all she needed to feel like a human being again and not a drowned puppy. 

Heading downstairs she found her aunt on the couch, watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians. “Great show,” Penny joked, joining her aunt on the familiar cushions. It seemed crazy that after six years her aunt hadn’t gotten a new couch, especially considering all the spills and stains that Penny remembered both causing and witnessing throughout her life. 

“It’s my guilty pleasure, don’t tell anyone,” Melissa lolled her head to the side, and gave Penny eyes that said or else. Penny laughed, a sweet little sound Melissa missed dearly, “You ready to go?” 

“As I’ll ever be,” came Penelope’s response as they worked themselves up off the well worn couch. “Hey, do you have an extra pair of shoes? Mine got kinda wet…” Her sentence trailed off and she gave a smile that said I kinda fucked up. Melissa laughed but handed her a pair of flip flops out of the closet.

“These are all I really have, unless you want to wear my clunky nurse sneakers.”

“I’ll stick to the flip flops, thanks.” Penny slid them on, and grabbed her jacket, now charged phone - thank you aunt Mel -, sunglasses, and wallet before following Melissa out the front door, remembering to lock it on her way out. Old habits die hard, she thought while shutting the piece of dark wood behind her.

“You should take your car and follow me, I have to go to work after this and I don’t want to leave you stranded.” Penny nodded and headed over to her car, putting her sunglasses over her eyes to block out the Cali sun. She started her dad’s old lemon, and turned up the volume as one of her favorite tracks came on before putting her in gear and following Melissa to the Sheriff’s station. 

--------

It took way longer than Penny anticipated, Mr. S had already gotten the approval from the court but they still had to wait around for the judge to come and sign all the right papers, and Penny had to file a police report for her file, all so they could print out one paper - ONE - for them to bring to school so she could be enrolled. Sheriff Stilinski was as nice as Penny remembered him being from when she was a kid, which made giving all the dirty details a little easier, though, sharing details about your mother’s mental stability isn’t easy in any circumstance. 

“Well ladies, I think I have everything I need, here’s your paperwork for the school... and welcome back to Beacon Hills kid.” Noah smiled at Penny, and it was such a dad smile she almost teared up. 

“Thank you Noah, I really appreciate all your help.” Melissa stood from her seat in front of the Sheriff’s desk and walked around to give him a quick hug. 

“Anytime Melissa. Good luck kiddo, it was good to see you again.” 

“Thanks Mr. S, it was good to see you too.” Noah waved her off and with that the two women made their way out of the Sheriff's department. 

“Okay, next stop, Beacon Hills High School.” Penny smiled at her aunt's words as they made their way to their respective cars, Penny however didn’t wait for Melissa this time, already knowing the way to the High School. 

It was a short drive and as she pulled into the parking lot there were a few kids outside the building, lingering slowly to their next class. She got lucky and parked in the front next to a grey Porsche, which she admired for a second before walking to the front of the school. A few heads turned, if not for her louder than average car, then for the sight of fresh meat on campus. She kept her sunglasses on but smiled at the onlookers, before deciding to lean on one of the railings outside the front door to wait out her aunt, who’s poor car couldn’t really keep up. Her dad’s car might have been an old hunk of metal, but the rebuilt engine still purred like a kitten all these years later. 

It only took a few more seconds for Melissa to arrive, and she found a spot easily, walking up to her niece with a scolding face. “Do we need to have a talk about speed limits?” Arms crossed, head down, looking through the top of her sunglasses at her niece, Penelope at least had the decency to look sorry. 

“Sorry,” came her sheepish reply. Melissa just shook her head and tried not to smile. 

“Let’s go, trouble.” 

“Oh, old nicknames resurfacing already?” Penny joked, following her aunt into the high school, which apparently just let out of one of their classes because the halls were packed.. Penny was a little grateful, less people will notice the new girl walking in with her Aunt when there’s other things and people to focus on. 

Penelope felt a chill rush down her spine as she made her way through the halls, a cold breeze pushed down her back like she was standing in a night-cast field stark naked - exposed, vulnerable, completely alone. She turned her head around, quickly looking around for the source of the cold air and found nothing but average high school teenagers. She tried to push the feeling out of her mind, knowing the last time she felt like this some strange man broke into her apartment and kicked her out, and instead looked to her other side, down one of the hallways they were passing where she noticed a mop of hair and crooked jaw standing by the stairs.

“Hey, McCall!” She yelled, getting more than a few looks her way. She didn’t really care though, and pulled her sunglasses off her face before running down the hallway to her cousin, who looked up as soon as his name was called. A smile replaced the confusion between his eyes when Scott realized who it was running toward him in the middle of the school hallways. 

“Penny!?” They embraced in a hug that almost knocked Scott on the ground, and Penny - who wasn’t used to her cousin being taller than her - let out a yelp and a laugh when her feet left the ground. 

“Hey, Scotty.” They hugged for a second longer, before Scott pulled back, dropped her back to the ground but kept his hands on her arms.

“Man, when did you get tall?” Penny asked, sizing up her once shorter than her cousin.

“More like when did you shrink?” Scott joked back. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

“Long story, but I’m your new roommate for the foreseeable future,” Penny shrugged and smiled, still not noticing the very pretty brunette standing next to Scott.

“Oh man,” Scott exclaimed, but suddenly remembered who he was talking to moments prior. “Oh! Penny this is Allison, Allison this is my cousin, Penny.” He gestured between the two girls, who were now smiling at each other. Allison looked much more relieved now that she learned her almost-boyfriend’s new roommate was just his cousin. 

“Hi! It’s so nice to meet you,” Penny waved in her direction, not really sure if a handshake would be too awkward, but knowing full well that if she broke out the ‘I’m a hugger’ on the first day it might cost her some awkward encounters later on. Penny sized her up, assuming that Allison was doing the same. She was pretty, like, way out of Scott’s league pretty, but she could almost feel their connection - it felt like the sun was shining on only them and Penny felt lucky to experience the warmth between them. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, uh Scott I have to run to French class, but I wanted you to know that I’m coming to see you play tomorrow.”

“You are?” He seemed very surprised and Penny tried to push her smile away. 

“And we’re all going out afterwards - you, me, Lydia, Jackson… It’s gonna be great. Tell Stiles to come too - Oh, and you too Penny.” Penelope smiled at the invitation, nodding her head yes - nothing like making friends before school even starts. “Uh, save me a seat at lunch. I gotta go!” Scott watched her leave, probably staring a little too long. Penny cleared her throat to regain his attention. His head snapped back, confirming that he totally forgot she was there.

“Well, me and your mom have to go talk to the principal but I’ll see you at home later, we apparently have a lot to talk about.” Penny squeezed his arm, and wagged her eyebrows up suggestively at Scott. He smiled sheepishly, head ducking down until his chin almost touched his chest and Penny walked off, waving goodbye to him behind her back. 

“Yeah, see you later Pen.” Scott said in amusement at his cousin, he knew something had to be seriously wrong for her to be here, but he also knew not to push her to talk - she would open up when she was ready. They grew up like siblings, practically twins, and Scott swore they could read each other’s minds sometimes. 

Penny met back up with her aunt, who respectively watched the two reunite from a distance after she saw who Scott was talking to. Melissa waved her hello/goodbye to her son and the pair made their way over to the Principal’s office where Penelope settled in for another long wait. 

——

It surprised Penny when it didn’t actually take very long at all. The principal was a nice British guy and though Penny found that fact extremely strange, the man got everything situated as quickly as possible - Penny thought he noticed the I haven’t slept in 24 hours look she was sporting- but nonetheless, she was grateful. 

“Ms. Delgado, here is your schedule, you have the same homeroom as your cousin, so hopefully that makes it a little bit easier on your first day.” She nodded her thanks at his words, taking her folder full of papers for her first day next week. 

“Thank you, again, I really appreciate your help in all this.” Melissa said, standing from her chair next to Penny. 

“Anytime, and please don’t hesitate to come by if you have any questions,” The principal stood, matching Melissa, and shook both girls' hands before they headed out of the building. 

“Well that was painless… and I have to run to work,” she sighed, looking down at her watched wrist. “I'm covering someone tonight so I can have off for Scott’s game tomorrow.”

“What sport does he play?” Penny asked, scrunching her eyes at the question and walking next to her aunt on their way out of the school's front door and down the steps to the parking lot. Scott was never athletically inclined, and the idea of him playing any school sport made Penny want to laugh a little. 

“Lacrosse, it’s like football in this school,” Melissa explained. “You remember how to get back to the house from here?”

“Yes,” Penny dragged out, “I’ll try not to get lost. Again.” They both laughed at her statement, but Melissa was internally grateful that phones were smart enough now for GPS’s because that poor girl didn’t have a directional bone in her body.

“Alright, here’s the key to the front door, I’ll have another copy made for you soon, school should be done soon and then Scott will be home, don’t let him get in too much trouble, alight?” Such a mom, Penny thought, smiling gratefully at her.

“You got it aunt Mel.” Melissa gave her niece’s arm a little squeeze and walked off to her car. Penny followed suit and got in her baby, started her up, and headed out.

-------

After a trip to the local Target to get all the essentials she could think of, it was a short drive back to the McCall household, and once she was back in the comfortable setting she headed upstairs to make herself at home. She grabbed some bed sheets, pillows and a comforter for herself while shopping - sponsored by the wallet of the man who broke into her apartment. Penny didn’t want to seem ungrateful for all the things her aunt has already given her, but it gave her a sense of peace to have things she could call her own.

After wrestling with the light gray bed sheets, getting them exactly how she liked them, Penny started to tackle the pile of crap on the floor from earlier. What little clothes she had were quickly folded and put away in the dresser - the only storage area in the whole room. She placed her makeup bag on top of the white dresser for easy grabs, and then grabbed her mom's tarot cards that she took while running out the door of her apartment. She wasn’t totally sure why she grabbed them, she had never actually used them before, but when she passed them in their altered space under the windowsill, it was almost like her mom was whispering in her ear to take them with her. So, Penny wrapped them up in the cloth they were sitting on and shoved them in her duffle. The cards were placed on their cloth - something her mom taught her, they should never touch a hard surface - on top of the white wood, out of direct sunlight so they wouldn’t get worn. 

Once those were placed, Penny turned around and looked to see everything cleaned up. It was a little depressing how little she now owned, but her pity party was cut short at the noise of her cousin slamming the front door and stomping up the stairs. He must have forgot she was there because he went straight into his bedroom and slammed that door too. Penny chuckled a little at his antics, and at the fact that he didn’t realize both of their bathroom doors were open and she could see him huff and puff. He settled at his desk and opened his laptop, probably to get some homework done, so Penny walked through their shared bathroom and leaned on the opening of Scott’s door. 

“Rough day?” Scott jumped in his seat at his cousin's question, part of him a little worried about the fact that he wasn’t able to hear her coming. 

And that he forgot she was here to begin with. 

Penny laughed at him and made herself at home in his room. Plopping down on his bed and lying on her back to stare at the ceiling. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Scott finally replied. 

“You seemed pretty happy when I saw you at school earlier,” Penny rolled herself onto her stomach and propped her head up on her hands. She watched Scott’s right cheek raised in a smile at the memory of Allison telling him she was coming to see him play tomorrow, but it quickly faded when he remembered the rest of the day's events.

“Yeah, but then…” Scott trailed off not really knowing how to explain the situation without explaining the situation. He wanted to tell her everything that’s happened the past week but he didn’t know how long she was staying and if he wanted to even get anyone else involved in this mess. So he decided to deflect. “Hey, are you gonna tell me what happened, why are you here?” 

“Well one, thank you for the warm welcome, it’s very appreciated,” Sarcasm laced her tone, something Scott was very familiar with, “two, nice deflection, we’ll circle back to your problems later, and three,” Penny sighed, not really knowing where to start since she herself didn’t fully understand what happened. “I don’t even know what happened Scotty… things were good for once, mom wasn’t disappearing all the time, we moved into a nice apartment, she got a steady job, and things were just… I don’t know, normal for once.” 

Penny hadn’t realized she was crying until Scott got up from his spot and kneeled in front of the foot of his bed to wipe the tears off her face. “How long has it been since her last…” Scott trailed off, not really knowing what to call what his aunt went through. 

“Episode?” Penny filled in. “I don’t know, maybe six months? It’s the longest she’s ever gone since -“ she cut herself off, not able to actually say the words. 

“Hey, it’s alright, you don’t have to explain it to me.” 

Penny smiled at her cousin, thankful that someone knew enough about her that she didn’t need to explain any part of it. 

“So what happened before she left?” Scott sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her, looking up at his younger cousin. 

“It was weird, it wasn’t like the other times where she starts hearing voices slowly, it was like it hit her all at once. One day she was fine, taking her meds, and the next she was screaming about how they were coming to get her, and that we needed to get out of there. And then the day she left… Scott it was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I mean, she was acting like there were real people in our apartment, moving around them, not sitting in certain spots because she said there were other people sitting there already, yelling at me not to go in the bathroom because someone was in there already.” Penny laughed a little at that one. She was trying to get ready for school and her mom all but barricaded the door. “And when I came back from school, she was gone. No note, no cryptic messages for me to solve, just gone… and then a few days later a random man showed up, pounding on my door, telling me I need to leave now. None of it makes sense Scott.” 

“What part?” He questioned. Sure, none of it made sense to Scott, but this wasn’t his life, this wasn’t something that he had to deal with on a daily basis. 

“She’s never seen things, only ever heard voices telling her not to go somewhere or talk to someone important or tell someone they’re going to die soon.” Penny huffed in annoyance at her situation and picked at the skin around her fingers.

Scott chucked a little at the last comment. He remembered when her mom was first diagnosed with schizophrenia and they still lived in Beacon Hills, the four of them were out to lunch and his aunt Kelly leaned over to the next table and told the man he was going to die in the next year. 

They left the restaurant after that. 

Penny rolled her eyes but smiled, remembering the same memory as Scott. She could still smell the banana pancakes and the greasy bacon, could still see Scott sitting across from her, putting toothpicks under his lips to try and make her smile. They left Beacon Hills pretty soon after that. Her mom always said it made her worse to be in this town, but Penny always just thought it was because it was where her dad died. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“She also kept saying ‘I won’t go back, I won’t go back’ over and over.” 

“Go back where?” Scott questioned. 

“Who knows,” Penny huffed, “we’ve moved so many times it could be anywhere at this point.” Penny flopped her head down dramatically, face smushed down into Scott’s comforter and let out a little grunt-scream that pretty much summed up how she felt in this moment. Scott ruffled her hair before standing up off the floor. 

Penny’s mom went into full flight mode after her husband died. They never stayed in one place for too long, because every time they started getting comfortable, Kelly would come up with some reason to move again and Penny tried not to blame her for all of it, tried to push down the hurt that bubbled to the surface every time she thought about it because she knew her mom was just trying her best. 

“We’ll figure it out, Pen, don’t worry.” Scott looked down at his cousin, his almost twin, and smarter half with sadness, he just wanted to help her but he had absolutely no idea where to start. 

Scott heard a muffled ‘promise?’ Come from the brunette on his bed before her hand shot out, pinky finger up. He smiled, reached his hand down and connected their pinky’s. It was an old tradition of theirs. Sure everyone did pinky promises, that was nothing new, but whenever they did pinky promises it meant something more. They used to sit across from each other, pinky’s locked, and spill all their guts. The other person wasn’t allowed to talk, or laugh, or ask questions. Just sit and listen. 

After a little squeeze, they both let go and Scott got back to the homework he was trying to do before Penny came into his room. He sent his text to Stiles about what he found earlier at Derek’s house after school and awaited his response. After a few minutes of silence, he turned to ask Penny a question about her schedule only to find her softly snoring. 

Scott smiled and got up to pull a blanket over her, hoping she was getting some good rest after everything she just went through. 

——

Scott heard the door slam, and pounding feet barreling through the house and up the stairs. He got worried, knowing that Stiles would most likely slam his body into every surface until he reached Scott. He really should’ve hoped for something else though, because Stiles all but knocked his door off the wall when he finally reached it. 

“What did you find? How did you find it? Where did you find it? And yes I’ve had a lot of Adderall, so-“ 

“Dude, shut up!” Scott whisper-yelled pointing at his cousin, still asleep on his bed and Stiles turns, arms flailing trying to find his balance. 

“Is that Penny?” Stiles asks, brows furrowed in confusion. Dark, chocolate brown hair sprawled out behind her, arms tucked under her face like a pillow, wearing a plain white t-shirt that brought out her Puerto Rican - identical to Scott’s - skin tone. Pink lush lips slightly opened, Stiles could see her long eyelashes spread out over her high cheekbones, and closed eyelids hid her eyes from him. She was absolutely gorgeous and Stiles had to catch his breath and try to compose himself. 

Stiles always had a little crush on Scott’s younger cousin who he’s known since they were all in diapers. How could he not? She’s drop dead gorgeous, and seeing her again - even sleeping - instantly brought those feelings crashing back to the surface.

“Stiles.” Scott urged, quietly of course, “I found something at Derek Hale’s.” Snapping back to reality, Stiles tries to focus on what’s important right now. 

“Are you kidding? What?” 

“There’s something buried out there, I could smell blood.” Scott whispered the last part, hoping his cousin would just stay asleep for this. 

“That’s awesome!” The look Scott gave him said otherwise so Stiles backtracked as quickly as his Adderall filled brain could, “I mean, that’s terrible. Whose blood?” Scott stood up, finally finished re-tying the net of his lacrosse stick.

“I don’t know… but when we do, your dad nails Derek for the murder. And then, you help me figure out how to play lacrosse without changing, because there’s no way I’m not playing that game.” 

----------

When Penny woke up it was dark and the room she was in was quiet. She glanced around the dark room, before the memories of the past day's events came back to her. 

She was at Aunt Mel’s house with Scott.

Her mom was missing.

And some creepy dude kicked her out of her apartment. 

She was rolling over, stretching out her tired limbs, when she felt something on her forehead. Pulling it off she found a blue sticky note pressed there.

Me and Stiles went for a drive

Won’t be long

Scott

Ps Stiles says hi

Penny smiled, the little doodle of a stick figure waving an oblong arm hello in the corner.

She stared at the white ceiling for a minute, thinking about how fucked up her life had gotten in such a short amount of time. She went from her normal life to one she didn’t recognize in less than 24 hours. She loved what little family she had left, treasured them in ways nobody could understand, but did that mean she wanted to live with them? Should she just sit back and expect others to find her runaway mom? Or should she start looking herself?

Nobody knew Kelly the way Penny did. Nobody’s been there through the shit storms and the rainbows the way she has. Her mom’s family was completely absent from her life, Penny couldn’t even tell you her grandparent’s names or where they lived. Melissa and Scott tried the best they could but Kelly was too flighty, nobody but Penny could keep track of her and tell when she was getting close to fleeing again. 

Maybe that’s what made this time so different. There were no warning signs, no way for Penny to tell that her mom was ready to take flight before she just took off. Normally Penny had time to plan, figure out where her mom wanted to move, and start packing up valuables, but this time she was just as blindsided as everyone else in her life. 

Penny’s stomach gurgled a loud protest of its hunger that stopped her train of thought from going any further, so she decided to make her way downstairs to find food before she passed out. Low blood sugar and all that jazz. She first decided to change into something more comfortable. She peeled out of her jeans, which now left marks on her legs and stomach from sleeping in them, and changed into some soft black shorts and one of her dad's old sweatshirts that covered her shorts and nearly reached her knees.

Once downstairs, she found some cereal, plopped down on the couch and tried to find something good to watch, and quickly found reruns of supernatural on CW and settled in for a good night. 

She was two bowls of cereal down and working on her third when Scott and Stiles came through the front door, covered in dirt.

“Rough night boys?” Penny asked, glancing at the clock to see it was almost 10pm. “Hey Stilinski,” She nodded and smiled at the skinnier of the two boys. He was sporting his usual buzz cut, jeans that were probably ruined because of whatever dirt pile they fell into, and a green flannel that made her question his fashion choices.

“Hey Pen, long time no see.” Penny got up off the couch and Stiles tried - like he really tried - not to look at her legs.

It didn’t work. 

Penny got close enough and threw her arms around his shoulders, having to stand on her tiptoes a little because damn, when did everyone get so much taller than her? Stiles reciprocated the hug of course, wrapping his arms around her middle and putting his face in the crook of her shoulder. It was familiar. It felt like home.

Scott smiled from a distance, shaking his head, already knowing. 

They broke off after a few seconds and pulled away, not too far though because Stiles almost felt cold as soon as she stepped away, like stepping out of the sun and into the shade. He wasn’t a fan of being out of the sun.

“Geez, did you both hit growth spurts after I left?” Penny joked, turning to walk back to the couch and get back in her comfy spot. And finish her cereal before it got soggy and inedible. There was truly nothing worse than soggy cereal.

“No, you just never grew,” Stiles joked right back, shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed glued to his spot by the front door. He had to get home before his dad noticed how late he was but she laughed, a sound that could make him fall to his knees and he never wanted her out of his sight again.

“Ouch, Stilinski, I’ll have you know I grew five inches in the last six years.” Penny gave him a ‘thank you smart ass’ look and Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that came out of him. 

“Yeah, whatever you say Delgado. Hey, Scott I gotta get home before my dad makes me the next murder victim in this town, but I’ll see you tomorrow before the game.” Scott was neck deep in the refrigerator but waved goodbye anyway, muttering something incoherent with all the food in his mouth. Stiles waved goodbye to Penny, taking an extra second to admire how cute she looked in that giant sweatshirt, no makeup, and hair tied up in a messy bun on top of her head. She waved back, mouth full of cereal, but a big smile still on her face. 

This might be a good year after all.

---

thnxs for reading, i love you a whole lot

of you liked this, please consider reblogging

[mariacallous]

Every so often along 99 between Bakersfield and Sacramento there is a town: Delano, Tulare, Fresno, Madera, Merced, Modesto, Stockton. Some of these towns are pretty big now, but they are all the same at heart, one- and two- and three-story buildings artlessly arranged, so that what appears to be the good dress shop stands beside a W. T. Grand store, so that the big Bank of America faces a Mexican movie house. Dos Peliculas, Bingo Bingo Bingo. Beyond the downtown (pronounced downtown, with the Okie accent that now pervades Valley speech patterns) lie blocks of old frame houses - paint peeling, sidewalks cracking, their occasional leaded amber windows overlooking a Foster’s Freeze or a five-minute car wash or a State Farm Insurance office; beyond those spread the shopping centers and the miles of tract houses, pastel with redwood siding, the unmistakable signs of cheap building already blossoming on those houses which have survived the first rain. To a stranger driving 99 in an air-conditioned car (he would be on business, I suppose, any stranger driving 99, for 99 would never get a tourist to Big Sur or San Simeon, never get him to the California he came to see), these towns must seem so flat, so impoverished, as to drain the imagination. They hint at evenings spent hanging around gas stations, and suicide pacts sealed in drive-ins.

But remember:

Q. In what way does the Holy Land resemble the Sacramento Valley? A. In the type and diversity of its agricultural products.

U.S. 99 in fact passes through the riches and most intensely cultivated agricultural region in the world, a giant outdoor hothouse with a billion-dollar-crop. It is when we remember the Valley's wealth that the monochromatic flatness of its towns takes on a curious meaning, suggests a habit of mind some would consider perverse. There is something in the Valley mind that reflects a real indifference to the stranger in his air-conditioned car, a failure to perceive even his presence, let alone his thoughts or wants. An implacable insularity in the seal of these towns. I once met a woman in Dallas, a most charming and attractive woman accustomed to the hospitality and social hypersensitivity of Texas, who told me that during the four war years her husband had been stationed in Modesto, she had never once been invited inside anyone's house. No one in Sacramento would find this story remarkable. ("She probably had no relatives there," said someone to whom I told it), for the Valley towns understand oen another, share a peculiar spirit. They think alike and they look alike. I can tell Modesto from Merced, but I have visited there, gone to dances there; besides, there is over the streets of Modesto an arched sign which reads:

WATER- WEALTH CONTENTMENT - HEALTH

There is no such sign in Merced.

From "Notes from a Native Daughter" in Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion

[ocean-blue-whump]

Home Sweet Hell: 1

More Marlow backstory that no one asked for!

Continued HERE 

Sunny + Star Masterlist

Sunny and Star Crew: @ashintheairlikesnow @whumpinggrounds @whumptakesthecake @justplainwhump @whumpfessional @winedark-whump @painful-pooch - let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: lady whump, kidnapping, beating, head injury, serial killer, drugging

***

Marlow Lancaster looks down the highway, holding out her cardboard sign. She’s almost there. She has two days to make it to freshman orientation and another fifty miles to cover. She won’t make it on her own. 

Every single bone in her body hurts from sleeping on the side of the road. There’s still a bruise on her cheek, her feet are blistered in her worn down shoes from running from the cops last night. 

She sees a car approaching from down the highway and shields her eyes to look at it as it slows to a stop next to her. It’s an old mobile home, the paint on the sides rusting. A man opens the door, smiling down at her. “Where are you heading, darlin’?”

Marlow bristles at the pet name, but pushes down her contempt and smiles at the man. “Sacramento.”

He smiles back at her, sickly sweet. “Well, you’re just in luck, darlin’. I’m heading that way too. Hop on in.”

Marlow keeps her fake smile on her face as she climbs into the van, sitting in the passenger seat and placing her bag between her feet. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. I could use the company. Name’s Paul. How about you?”

“Casey.” She doesn’t use her real name and she doesn’t use the same fake name twice in a row. She tries to never reuse names if she can help it. 

He turns the key and the engine turns over, sputtering to life. “Nice to make your acquaintance, Miss Casey. We should be to Sacramento in no time. I’m going to have to stop for gas eventually, though.”

“That’s fine,” Marlow responds quietly, her bruised hands folded in her lap and hidden by the sleeves of her baggy shirt she stole from a clothes donation bin. She carefully sizes up Paul. He’s under six feet tall with a beer belly and mottled skin, thin hair hidden by a baseball hat. Still, she knows he could overpower if he had a weapon. 

Her knife is tucked into her backpack and he’d notice if she got it out. Her fingers twitch without that added layer of protection. 

Paul starts driving off down the road, turning the radio onto some country music station. Not her favorite, but she’s not picky. She’s just happy she won’t have to walk the rest of the way to Sacramento and be late to orientation, happy she won’t have to run from the cops anymore. And this is by far the least sketchy ride she’s picked up in her journey. 

It’s okay. It’s almost over and she can leave behind all the shit that’s happened to her so far. She can be happy, or as close as something like her can get. 

“What’s in Sacramento, darlin’?” Paul asks, tapping his thick fingers on the steering wheel. “You got someone waiting for you?”

A deep feeling of unease washes over Marlow. “Yeah. My aunt and cousins are there. They’re probably anxiously awaiting me.” 

He shrugs. “Why don’t you give ‘em a call and tell ‘em you’ll be there soon? So they know to have food waiting for you.”

Marlow freezes. Shit. Shit. “It’s dead.” She had a burner phone for the first two weeks of her trip, but it got destroyed in a scuffle between her and a drunk guy. 

He holds up a cord. “I’ve got a charger.”

Marlow forces herself to keep smiling, but a brief silence passes as she struggles to come up with a good excuse. “It’s fine. My aunt works, I’m sure she wouldn’t pick up anyways.”

“You sure you don’t want to charge it for later?”

Something is very, very wrong here, Marlow can feel it deep in her bones. She was really hoping to fall asleep in Paul’s car, anywhere is better than the ground, but she doesn’t trust him. “It’s okay. Seriously.” She forces herself to give him a tiny giggle. “I don’t need it. I’ve got company.”

Paul chuckles. “That you do, darlin’. Why don’t you get some sleep? You look like you could use some shut eye.”

Marlow shakes her head. “I’m alright. I got plenty of sleep last night.” It’s a lie, she slept in an alleyway in a small, mostly abandoned town, using her backpack as a pillow and her only jacket as a blanket when the temperatures dropped in the night. But no matter how well she lies, the bags underneath her eyes speak for themselves. 

“Suit yourself.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the drive until he pulls into a gas station and turns the van off. “I’m going to run in and grab some snacks. Want anything, Casey?”

“No, I’m alright. Thank you for offering.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Marlow gives him a tight lipped smile. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“Alrighty. Be back in a flash, darlin’.”

Marlow watches him disappear into the gas station before looking behind her, examining the motor home. There’s a small kitchen and dining room area, a ratty sofa, a door leading to a bathroom, and all the way in the back, another door, cracked enough so she can see the unmade bed. 

She’s so distracted looking behind her that she doesn’t realize Paul has opened her door until he’s climbing up next to her, practically sitting in her lap. 

“What…what are you doing?” Her heart is hammering in her chest, panic bubbling up in her lungs. 

Paul smiles at her. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.” He lunges forward, pinning her to the seat with his shoulder, and holds a chloroform rag to her mouth. 

Marlow screams and thrashes around, but he shoves more of his weight into her and keeps his grip tight. 

She struggles against the drug threatening to sweep her into unconsciousness, but the longer Paul houlds the cloth to her mouth, the more she can feel her mind slipping away, and eventually, her body loses all its fight. 

Paul keeps pressing the rag to her mouth. “There’s a good girl,” he says, smiling. “You just really looked like you needed sleep.”

Fuck. She’s so dead, she’s going to die here—

Marlow’s eyes flutter shut. 

***

“Wake up.” 

Marlow gasps as cold water splashes against her face, slowly taking in her surroundings. She’s tied to a chair in the center of the kitchenette, rough rope encircling her wrists and ankles. 

Paul is in the front seat driving, one hand on the wheel while he looks back at her, a waterbottle in his other hand. “Good.”

“What the fuck?” Marlow roars, pulling against the restraints and disguising her fear as anger. This can’t be happening, how the fuck was she this sloppy on the last leg of her journey? How is this going to be the way she dies?

“Calm down, Casey. Or whatever your real name is, little runaway.” He chuckles to himself. “Good one, Paul.” 

“Oh, you bastard,” she seethes, twisting her arms around until they start to burn. “My aunt isn’t going to stop until she finds me.”

“You don’t have an aunt,” he says, his voice light and cheery. “I went through your bag. You were lying about the cell phone, too. It’s just you and me.”

“Then why don’t you come back here and face me like a man?” she yells. She’s going to die here. He’s going to kill her and worse.

“I will, darlin’. Once I get to the rest stop.”

Marlow sighs and tilts her head up, looking at the cross stitch sign on the wall above the kitchen sink. Home Sweet Home. More like Home Sweet Hell, if this is what he chooses to do with his time. “You’ve done this before,” she says. It’s not a question.

His eyes narrow in the rearview mirror. “Yes.” 

“All people like me?”

“For the most part, darlin’.”

Marlow cracks her neck. “Well, I hate to break this to you, Paul, but you’ve never met anything like me before. I can guarantee that.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll be fun to break.”

“I don’t fucking break.”

“That’s what they all say.” 

Marlow glares at him. “Well, I guess you’ll have to come back here and find out.” He did a good job tying the ropes, she won’t be able to escape that way no matter how much she tugs. Her wrists have started to bleed, but the burning pain only makes her more focused. 

“I will.” He’s quiet as he drives.

Marlow groans, her body aching. “You were so talkative earlier.”

“Ah, shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “Why would I make small talk 

“I figured it was just an act.” Marlow sighs. “I also figure it’s useless begging you to let me go.”

“I like begging.”

“I won’t be giving you that satisfaction, asshole.” Her eyes are drawn to the Home Sweet Home sign again and she wonders how many people also saw that sign before they died. 

“Come on, darlin’. Men don’t like it when women play so hard to get.”

“I don’t want men to like me. Certainly not you.” Marlow keeps shifting around, trying to ignore her headache. “What are you going to do to me?”

“Men also don’t like women who run their mouth.” Paul pulls over to the side of the road, parks the van, and starts walking towards her. “You’re makin’ it real temptin’ to kill you.”

“Fucking do it,” Marlow says. “Go right ahead.” She presses her back against the chair as he approaches, so scared she might be sick. 

Paul pulls out a roll of duct tape, and before Marlow can even scream, he’s tearing off a piece and slapping it over her mouth. “Much better.”

Marlow stomps her foot against the ground the best she can, growling under the gag. 

Paul laughs. “Don’t be so ridiculous, darlin’. You’re not an animal.” He punches her hard in the face, and her head snaps back, nose throbbing. He gives a content hum, walking back to his seat. “Only fifty miles to the rest stop.”

Marlow makes a muffled noise of protest. She’s going to die here. 

She can’t fucking die here, she’s stronger than this.

There’s no getting out of this, and Paul keeps driving until they get to the rest stop. He’s chuckling as he blocks up the windows to the van with reflective panels. “Just you and me,” he says with a chuckle. 

Marlow tugs against her restraints, her eyes wide with fury. 

Paul turns to the closet, rummaging around. “You really should have been more careful. A young, pretty thing like you shouldn’t be all alone like that.”

I didn’t have a choice, you bastard. She snarls, the tape crinkling up. I did what I had to so I could survive. And I’ll survive this, too.

Paul pulls out a baseball bat and a pair of brass knuckles. “This should help break you in.”

She juts her chin up at him, pushes down all her fear. The look in her eyes speaks for itself. Try it. Go ahead. Fuck around and find out. You won’t like the results.

She’s a survivor. This is what she does.

“Darlin’, I have to admit, you’re going to be a fun one to kill.” He gives the bat an experimental swing. “I would have expected you to start crying.”

Marlow huffs around the gag. If he’s going to hit her, he might as well do it already. She’d rather get hit than wait around for it like she’s done for the first eighteen years of her life. 

“You said your name was Casey, right?” Paul shakes his head. “Those student registration papers in your bag said Marlow.”

She glares at him. 

“Oh, right.” Paul rips the tape off Marlow’s mouth.

She takes a minute to crack her jaw before spitting in his face. “Fuck you.”

He darkly chuckles, wiping the saliva away. “Oh, you’re in for it now.”

“Try me, bastard.” Marlow pulls at the ropes again and with the small bit of friction, her wrists tear open again, droplets of blood falling to the floor. She casts her eyes downwards, looking at where the skin around her ankles is irritated, but not bleeding. Not yet. 

Paul sighs. “No.” 

Marlow freezes as she feels the press of smooth wood on the underside of her jaw, tilting her head up so her unsteady, defiant green eyes meet the calm blue ones of Paul. 

“You look at me when I’m talking to you, understand, darlin’? Just keep your pretty eyes up here.”

Fine. He wants to see her look at him? She levels her gaze, eyes full of unholy fury, chin jutted up by the baseball bat yet still somehow proud. She’s Marlow fucking Lancaster. She has to survive this. “I take it we aren’t going to Sacramento anymore.”

“Smarter than you look.”

“What number am I? Of your victims?”

“Twenty-three. Not the only one to spit in my face either.”

“Good.”

Paul pulls the bat away from her face, only to slam it against her side. Marlow grunts, breathing heavily through her nose to absorb the blow. She won’t allow him the dignity of a scream, at least, not for a while. 

“What’s the end goal here?” Marlow asks, hoping the answer won’t make her more terrified than she already is. “What do you want from me?”

Paul doesn’t answer, slamming the bat into Marlow’s other side.

Absorb the blow. Take the pain. Rinse and repeat and take each hit he deals. The pain is better than the anticipation. She’d rather be hit than spend the next hours waiting for pain. 

It’s the psychological damage that gets to people in the end. 

Paul beats her ribs and stomach until she can barely breathe, until each ragged gulp of air feels like swallowing knives. 

“S…seriously?” Marlow coughs. “You’re just gonna…you’re just gonna beat the shit out of me ‘til you’re satisfied?”

“Maybe.” He rears the bat again, and Marlow sees the trajectory before he starts swinging. She has time to feel the fear before the bat cracks into her skull.

Her head slams to the side, the metallic tang of blood filling her mouth, her ears ringing, her vision spinning. She groans weakly, black spots filling the world around her. She tongues at her lip, finding that she bit a spot. At least she knows where the blood came from, but in her disoriented state, she doesn’t have time to prepare for the second blow, aimed at the exact same spot. 

Everything after that is a blur. She feels sticky warmth on her right temple, the world is painted in a sickly shade of gray as her head lolls around, her neck unable to support the weight. 

She was ready to run away from her parents’ home. She wasn’t ready for this. 

At least with her head feeling like it’s full of cotton, she doesn’t feel the fear. She barely feels the pain as he keeps swinging the bat at her, over and over again. The worst it gets is when she, through her ringing, foggy ears, hears a crunch from her ribs and a chuckle from Paul, a sharp flash of pain and nothing at all as her brain struggles to catch up with reality. 

Marlow can hold on. She has to hold on, she can’t let herself go. 

But when Paul slams the bat against her head for the third time, blood flies from Marlow’s mouth and she slumps into her restraints, finally blacking out. 

[kickthecan-revolution]

I love my car service shop. I realized yesterday that I hadn’t driven in any substantial way for almost a year and I’m headed up to Sacramento tomorrow for Thanksgiving which is about a three hour drive one way. My service indicator light has been on for awhile and I had visions of breaking down on the road. My car has about 90k miles in it, and I drove cars until they die so this needs to last for awhile but I’ve just put it off. I hopped in my car for an errand and saw that my front right tire needed air (you truly cannot find a place to add air in your tires because those who are unhoused and struggle with addiction use the nozzles for cooking meth) which kicked me into high gear to get this taken care of.

I called my place and asked if there was any way they could fit me in, knowing it was unlikely due to the holiday rush but he squeezed me in and it only cost 150 bucks! And I got to say hello to Max, the shop dog to boot. Given it wasn’t as expensive as I anticipated, I am treating my little baby to a fresh wash, inside and out.

These are little things to some, but it’s a big step for me in self-care to do these things.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Cindy Collier and Shirley Wolf

Collier and Wolf rose to infamy when they decided to run away from Auburn in 1983. The two girls both had fraught pasts — both girls were sexually and physically abused for years before they committed the murder. Wolf’s father began molesting her at age 2 and occasionally by her paternal grandfather and uncle as well — after pleading guilty to child molestation in 1982, he served a 100-day prison sentence. In 1983, Collier was staying at a group home in Auburn. Wolf had just run away from a group home in Placerville.

That afternoon, amazingly only a few hours after Wolf and Collier had met for the first time, they randomly knocked on doors in a condominium development in Auburn, Calif., 33 miles northeast of Sacramento. Though the girls used the innocent ruses of asking for directions, a glass of water or to use the phone, their demeanour was unsettling enough to alarm the senior citizens they encountered. Two women locked their doors and windows when they saw them. Joe Becker, 70, allowed them inside. “But after they left, my wife felt so contaminated by them that she immediately washed the glass and scrubbed the phone with alcohol—before we knew anything about the murder.” Anna Brackett, 85, kindly invited them into her neatly kept, two-bedroom condo and spent nearly an hour chatting with them. Collier then took one of Brackett’s kitchen knives and handed it to Wolf. Brackett was stabbed at least 27 times. “We decided we were going to kill her when we saw her,” says Shirley Wolf. “She was just an old lady. Just a perfect setup. We killed her because we wanted her car and we didn’t want to get caught. Then I stabbed and stabbed,” recalls Wolf. “I stabbed her in the neck because if she lived, she would know who we are and report us. The lady was freaking me out, telling me to stop, that she was dying, I said: ‘Good.’ All of a sudden, blood came out of her mouth so I knew she was dead.” Before leaving, Collier ransacked the condo for money and keys to the 1970 Dodge parked in the garage and then ripped the two telephones from the wall. The keys they had taken wouldn’t start the car. So they fled on foot to nearby Highway 49.

 Afterward, Wolf wrote in her diary, “Today, Cindy and I ran away and killed an old lady. It was lots of fun.”