#ESPECIALLY AFTER YOU CAME UP TO ME AT WORK AT WALMART IN THE MIDDLE OF BACK TO SCHOOL SHOPPING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jodilin65 · 16 years ago

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MONDAY, MARCH 31, 2008 We’re back to having to play net games again, so I can’t do my sweeping. Guess now’s a good time to catch up here.

The person we woke up checked out the next day, and it’s been empty over there ever since. I know it won’t last long, though. I just hope they don’t fix what’s broken in our old room anytime soon.

We went sign-hunting on Saturday but had horrible luck. We went to Folsom to see what it was like, so being unfamiliar with the area, we just didn’t know where to look. They told Tom at work that it was as small-town as you’d get being this close to Sacramento, and it was true. It did have a small-town feel to it, and if it weren’t for the scattered palms, you might think it was K-Falls. We drove by the prison, though we couldn’t see it. It’s set way back in the middle of a huge farm. The subdivisions were typical of the west; the older houses were about 20’ apart, the newer ones just a few. Some are so ridiculously close you might as well connect them! You’d feel like you were in an apartment anyway if you were close enough that you could literally touch the wall of one house with one hand and the other with your other hand.

Tom’s still looking online when we can get on it and still feels we’ll get a house. I’m starting to think we’re going to end up in a trailer, duplex or townhouse. You know we’re not allowed to live where we want. He did see a house listed for just $700 in Yuba City, but the catch is that it’s very small and no doubt a dump. Especially since they didn’t post any pictures of it. We don’t mind being in a small dump again if it’s going to be that cheap and not on top of someone else. The only thing we didn’t like is how the ad stated, “No pets or animals, no exceptions.”

The car is so much more comfortable to ride in than the truck! It’s not nearly as loud either, and it drives much smoother.

Before heading out to Folsom, we stopped at Starbucks and I got a caramel coffee.

Tom grabbed the vacuum and hair cutter from storage so he could cut his hair and look more presentable for job-hunting.

We also went to the mail place where I got a $3 shiny, colorful tube for mailing things like posters. It’s just so cool looking I thought it’d make a neat Barbie prop or something.

After he cashed the check and put money on the card, the real fun began. We ended up spending $200 at Walmart! He needed a new razor and wallet. I finally got some hair detangler, a pack of flavored lip balms, and a trio of sports bras.

I also got a Barbie with a deep aqua cami and dark denim capris with glitter, as well as eyeshadow, that matches her cami. She has long blond hair and comes with a “chalk iron” that you run through her hair to color it. It’s got purple, pink and blue.

Then there’s Nikki, a black doll with bendable wrists like the newest Tonner dolls have. I’ve never seen bendable wrists before with Barbie and friends. This one wears a pink party dress with gold accents.

We also sent off the money order for the shipping on the two beauty baskets and placed a wholesale order with Incense Galore. The question is whether or not we’ll ever receive the incense. The emails I sent have been returned as no good, and I can’t leave a message on their machine cuz it tells me that person can’t receive messages at that time. I had a live chat with the Stickman and asked if he had any additional contact info, but he didn’t. Tom said that if worse came to worse PayPal would reimburse us.

SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 2008 Again I was woken up just as I was knocking off! Thanks, God, for cursing me with this wonderful sleep disorder, and for compensating us with even more money to make up for me not having a job so I can double our income.

It was Satish knocking. He was all apologetic and all that, saying he just needed to get numbers off the TV, fridge and microwave for warranty purposes. Then he said he’d talk to his realtor friend about helping us get a place. I’m not sure I believe that one or that they’ll want to help once they learn how much he makes, but we are going to go out hunting today ourselves.

Tom’s begun submitting job applications. We both think he’ll get something between $10-$12. The key is getting a job with insurance and where there’ll be room for advancement since we’re never going to be allowed to work for ourselves from home.

Speaking of being woken up, someone else checked into 334 on Thursday and woke me up with the door. Well, they got woke up last night by me talking too loud, but only by accident. It was 11:30, shortly after Tom got in from work. They banged on the wall a few times to let us know how pissed they were. This is the first time we’ve ever disturbed or woken anyone up that we know of. Tom and I were laughing about it, though we did quiet right down and he hit the sack. Imagine the look on their faces in the office if the person mentions it to them! They’d be shocked, alright. The only difference is that the person will no doubt be punished just once for waking me up. Me, I got about 100 more wake-up calls to go to pay for waking them up!

I always said I wished we were on the end, but I don’t know about that what with how popular the end rooms are. That’d mean always having someone below us, and for some reason, the door underneath us wakes me up more than the ones next to us.

FRIDAY, MARCH 28, 2008 If only I was your typical little herd animal! If I could just snap my fingers and just adore people and noise, we could almost own a single-wide trailer, from what Tom found out, on a lot in a park that would cost just $435 a month. That’s what we were paying at the duplex! Then we could save up for some land, but by the time we could buy much more than a few feet, we could be in a retirement community, so I guess we could just save for that. Owning land is definitely a bad idea if we can’t own everything outright. With house and land payments, we couldn’t afford the everyday commute to the city. If he could work from home, that’d be different, but I still don’t see that happening. He may make a few hundred a month from the horses, but not a few hundred a day.

Tom surprised me with some treats when he stopped at Walmart on his way in from work a couple of nights ago, saying I deserved them. He got me some incense and some temporary tattoos. These tats aren’t as good as the last one was, but it’s still fun to play around with.

They’re getting better at the cheap incense, but I’ll be enjoying gourmet incense soon enough, so long as Incense Galore doesn’t fuck up too badly on us.

The smoke detector started going off periodically yesterday during the late morning as I was about to fall asleep and he was to get ready for work, so Satish came up and replaced it altogether. I wasn’t very nice about it at first, but I’m sure he understood how annoyed I was.

Again we had to get people next door, even though Tom heard Michelle mention that we’re only 30% full. Well, hopefully we won’t be here much more than a week! We’re going out hunting this weekend.

I still don’t think we’ll ever own anything again because I still not only believe without a doubt that God doesn’t want us living where we want to live, but I’m not so sure we’ll ever have good credit. Tom’s been the victim of identity theft, so he learned when checking his credit. Most of it happened in the summer of ’06. He thinks it’s a random act done by someone who got a hold of his social security number, but I’m thinking whacked blacks, pigs, or his family. Tom assures me he’s not only not at risk of going to jail, but that it’s up to the people who gave whoever it was the credit to prove that it was actually him they gave it to. I was surprised. You mean there are actually good laws in this world? Fair laws that actually protect people like us? Wowee! He also says that for just a couple of bucks a month, you can be alerted whenever someone tries to get credit in your name with your social.

Rosalinda, as is the Mexican housekeeper’s name, did our room Wednesday. I hope that whoever does it next Wednesday will be the last one to do it till we leave!

MONDAY, MARCH 24, 2008 Satish came to fix the smoke detector around 11:00 which was when I figured he’d come. Fortunately, I had only been asleep 5 hours which meant I could go back to sleep after he and Tom left.

Satish was pleased to hear we’d finally received the prize money and got a new car. He asked what it was and we told him. Then he asked if it was the green one parked out there, and when we moved in here. I let him know the fridge in our old room still leaked even with the settings he changed, and that the heater broke completely.

Someone checked into 334 at 9:00 and although I could hear them due to the thin walls, they weren’t noisy. I just hope they let me sleep tomorrow if they stick around, or that the housekeeper will if they’re an overnighter, cuz they ain’t letting me sleep on Wednesday unless I decide to have Michelle call them off.

I discovered SweepsNation last night and it’s pretty cool. Normally I wouldn’t join other sweep sites since most of them have the same sweeps and all I’d be doing was DQing myself. But the site itself gives away its own prizes, mostly GCs, and they automatically enter you in all their progressive jackpots for life just for signing up once.

OLS is really annoying the hell out of me more and more. The single-entry sweeps are now mostly for parents and kids, and all the damn comment sweeps are driving me crazy!

SUNDAY, MARCH 23, 2008 Well, the AC does work after all. I was getting worried seeing that the breakage curse obviously lives on, even if it’s stuff we don’t own. First we’re cursed with toilets, then refrigerators, then heat/AC pumps.

NBC’s doing a Most Awkward Moment sweep for 5K. I couldn’t think of anything for real, so “awkward wedding” paragraph.

Funny or not, I don’t think it stands much chance cuz they’re only picking 1 winner. 5 people won the 9K, and 12 won the $500. Between Clorox and Simple Green, we have enough cleaning supplies to last till I’m 45 years old! I just wish some of it wasn’t orange. I hate citrus scents and tastes, especially lemon, lime and orange. I’ll let Tom keep those in the car.

It took them over an hour to do our old room and it was just the one I hoped would get cursed with having to do it, too – Prasaad and the new Indian chick she’s been training.

SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 2008 New room, new car, new life! Yes, things are the best they’ve been so far since coming here! Yesterday evening the heater crapped out for good in 338. No wonder it was always kind of funky. When the heat was on it’d make these soft popping sounds. Well, yesterday it started popping louder and the heat wouldn’t stop. I’d get heat when I’d switch it to the fan and even the AC, so knowing we were to be in the mid-70s today, I had this young, wimpy Indian guy let me move into 336. It took me a half-hour to move all the stuff and another half to set it all up. Although I haven’t used the AC yet, the only problem with this room is that the smoke detector battery died and only Satish is allowed to deal with those things, so I have to wait till Monday for that to be fixed. It’ll be just one more thing, along with the housekeeper on Wednesday, to wake us up.

I emailed Tom at work to let him know we moved and he helped me swap mattresses before turning his key in and getting the new one. The mattress in here was old, flat, and hard like the one that used to be in 338.

It’s weird getting used to the reversed direction. I automatically head for the lower right cabinet when I want to throw something away, yet it’s on the right in this room. It’s much darker in here at night, and I’m glad to be away from that damn end room! The only negative is that it’s right on the stairs.

What’s kind of strange is that this room is colder. The kitchen and bathroom floors are icy cold, but that’d be a good thing in the warmer weather.

This carousel is broken too, but at least the fridge doesn’t leak.

The best news is that today Tom got a ‘94 Ford Taurus GL wagon for just under 2K at a dealership. No more uncomfortable antique of a truck that won’t idle, has a driver’s side window that won’t roll down, a passenger door that won’t open from the outside, has plates that expired in May of ’05, and insurance that also expired in January. That’s the part Tom wouldn’t tell me so as not to add to my stress. There just wasn’t any money to pay for it, and by the time we got money, we knew we were getting a whole new vehicle anyway. Where I thought he’d just get a warning or a $200 fine if pulled over for the plates or for a tail light that may’ve gone out unbeknownst to him, he’d have actually gotten fined over a grand and the truck could’ve very well been impounded.

He saw this car online last night and knew it was the one he wanted. He’d actually had his eye on it for a couple of weeks and last night he found that it had come down in price and was worried it wouldn’t be available because it seemed like such a good deal. I prayed several times for it. Then this morning he took the truck out for its final ride, 7 miles to the lot. Once he got there and saw that it was still available, he paid for it and drove back here and parked the truck for good. Right now it’s officially on death row! Yep, as soon as we clear it out, it’ll be towed to a junkyard to await execution after it’s stripped and Tom has a few days of driving the Taurus without any problems. I almost wish I could pull the switch myself!

All works well, but the AC is rather wimpy. Nothing he can’t fix, though. While we’d never want anything too new or too fancy that could appeal to joyriders, it’s the newest thing we’ve had since being together. He had a Nissan Centra when we met, then got a Ford Tempo, both 80s vehicles. Then we had the ‘91 Ford Taurus which was a regular car and sold it before going to Oregon. They were all white, as most vehicles in Arizona are. This one’s shiny dark green with a gray interior. Dull colors, but the least of our concerns. We were surprised to find it has no power locks or windows for a ’94 with dual airbags. It’s been smogged, too.

They accepted the debit card and took care of all the paperwork so he never had to go to the DMV. I signed off on insurance since I don’t drive, so it’d save us money.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 2008 Tom got the check!!! He took it to the check-cashing place he normally uses. The fees are going to be $337, a little less than he thought they’d be. The only catch is that they’d only give him 3K. He can’t get the rest for 10 days. Because it’s a big company using a well-known bank, he feels confident that there’ll be no problems. While we can get a new vehicle ASAP, this does delay us a week from getting into a place. I just hope that when the time comes, he’s right about those not going through property management companies having lower expectations of potential renters.

Kissum did the room yesterday. No insiders in a couple of days now. Our little ender was out most of the day, but it just got back to bang around on and off for the next 4 hours till it crashes. At least this one’s just mildly annoying and not maddening. They’ve been here for about a week now.

We’re not sure whether or not we’re going to rent this place for a month or not on the 3rd when he gets the rest of the money. I hope we can find a place fast enough so that we won’t have to! The next question is, did the neighbor curse really end with Kim? Or will we still just “happen” to get one extreme after another?

TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2008 It’s nice to be able to finally move on to new worries. Now instead of worrying about how we’re ever going to escape this room, I worry that the neighbor curse will follow us to wherever we end up if it’s not already there waiting for us. Will we get someone like Kim who wasn’t perfect, but was tolerable? Or will we get the crazy lady with the yipping dog and blasting TV? Or maybe some other rude asshole with the loud stereo and wild kids? Perhaps the rowdy college kids? I just hope we don’t “happen” to get all kinds of extremes like we usually do. Going in order of what we want most to our absolute last choice, it’d be a house, a cottage, a townhouse, a duplex, and an apartment in a complex last.

What we should’ve done was go to Italy from Oregon taking the cheapest travel package available. Then we could’ve used the leftover credit to pay for some of the motel time.

Tom pulled our printer from storage and tomorrow he’ll get a cartridge for it. It’ll be so nice to be able to print again after so long! Oh, those little luxuries in life we tend to take for granted!

MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2008 At last, the light is shining at the end of the tunnel!!! I was about to resign myself to the idea that this motel room was to be our permanent home and so be it. I told myself that never again could the Gods tease me with getting out of here if I just stop hoping and trying, and just learn to accept our fate as it is. Fate is something we can’t change anyway. Besides, if we were meant to live where we wanted, I also told myself, we wouldn’t have lost our beautiful brand-new home 4 years ago. I told myself I’d get my dream house someday. Just not in this life. In the next one, though, I’d have a beautiful home with all the peace and security I could ever need and want and I’d have a nice garden, too. In this life, it was time to start looking at the good to being here and to start being grateful for what we do have and to keep in mind that there are worse places to be than motel rooms. I thought of how we’d eventually have to sell most of the stuff in storage like the dolls and things like that because there’s only so much room in here and most of it won’t be needed here anyway.

Then I remembered the dream I had last night and told Tom about it before he went to shower and head out for work. I dreamt I was spying on a house that was wonderfully far away from the one I was in through a pair of binoculars. It was nighttime and I could see into the lighted windows, but saw no people. Just furniture and wall hangings. Then I turned around and faced the center of the room where 3 baby rats stood on their hind legs looking at me expectantly as if to say, “Well, aren’t you gonna come play with us and give us more cheese, too?”

He decided to check his email one last time and a few minutes later he said to me, “Well, I know you’re not going to believe this, but I got an email from Nancy. She says the check’s been cut and we should receive it this week.”

And we were just about to sic Consumer Affairs on them! I was laughing and crying with joy, grinning like a mad idiot, squealing with delight, dashing around the room, and nearly dropping the can of chickpeas I’d just opened!

How ironic that in the end, God granted every single one of my prayers. Some much later than I’d have liked, but better later than never! Then again, He still hasn’t granted the horses.

Our plans for the money are to get a vehicle first which should only take a few days. Then, if we can’t find a house in about a week, we’ll take advantage of the $1000 apartment rate they now have if we still can, since Mike, the manager, said there were only so many of those they were allowed to have. This way we’ll have a whole month to look for a place. If we still haven’t found a place right before the month is up, we’ll jump into a trailer. This is still something I’d rather not have to do, but it’d beat motels/apartments and be the cheapest route to take. So hopefully we won’t be here past the beginning of May!

I haven’t felt this good in sooo long! No, our only choices are not to either stay forever in this room or die on the bathroom floor!

Did I mention Tom got a new phone with internet access? Two weeks ago I was freaking out when the net was down and was awaiting his return so he could book the room after cashing his check and getting the money onto the card, failing to remember that he could now do this by phone if he ever had to.

Got a jump start on learning what little I could of Italian for free, and learned to count to venti (20), some words, and a little about the pronunciation and grammar. Last night I mentioned to Tom that I still wanted to learn Italian and Hawaiian if we made it out of this room, and how easy Italian should be as opposed to Hawaiian, my first non-European language, and he pointed out that I couldn’t even count in Italian yet. So I jumped online and proved him wrong on that one in under 10 minutes! It would’ve taken hours, though, had it not been so similar to Spanish. To say that knowing Spanish helps is an understatement! It seems its grammar is very different than English as is the case with Spanish, but unlike with Spanish, I’d say the pronunciation is not as easy.

SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 2008 The good news is that the Clorox check did indeed save our stuff, but the bad news is that not only has the 9K still not shown up, but now the guy’s email address has been removed from the site that I contacted. Mr. Ever So Trusting says it’s because he just didn’t want to be contacted anymore, but I say it’s because he was part of a nasty scam and he knows it. So now Tom has to contact Consumer Affairs. He still thinks we’ll get the check, but even if we do, when will we get it? Before the next crisis hits or after? In just a matter of weeks, the extra money will be gone and we’ll still be trapped here, trying to figure out how we can make it. I just don’t understand why we’re so undeserving of a home. What did we do to be so hopelessly trapped in this motel? The manager offered us a $50 discount on the monthly apartment rate, but there’s no way we could come up with the grand in the first place.

Anyway, I showed the guy he can run, but he can’t hide. At least not from me. I found his email in my ‘sent mail’ section and have sent a message asking for a more precise time frame. If he won’t give it to me, Tom will deal with them from there on out, but I still don’t know if we’ll ever see the money. He says a big company like that doesn’t want bad publicity, but there are a lot of people who just don’t give a damn whether they have bad publicity or not. Lots of people will spite themselves to spite others.

Meanwhile, as soon as he can get to the storage place, he’s gonna pull one of the old inkjet printers so he can print resumes for a better job that has regular benefits.

FRIDAY, MARCH 14, 2008 We had someone check in the inner room yesterday afternoon for one night. They were pretty bangy their first 20 minutes or so, then they shut up. We had a surprisingly quiet end roomer too, but that’s probably why they were only there one night as well. Only the noisy ones stay longer! With it being Friday night, I expect to get company on both sides any minute, so I’m enjoying what’s left of the peace.

I saw Prasaad cleaning the inner room when we returned from Carl’s Jr. We felt we deserved a treat in light of the Clorox check which should’ve arrived today. I sure hope so anyway! If it was mailed in a package with the cleaning products, however, it could take up to a week. Still time to pay storage, but even so, I’ll feel better once the money is actually on the card, and even better if we can get the 9K. The only thing dampening my otherwise fine mood is knowing we could end up right where we were last week if the 9K takes much longer.

At least the cop dream seems meaningless so far, as all he had was one little scare so far. Last night I dreamt I was writing to my folks and giving them our new address. That one I sure hope is a sign of a home to come real soon!

They’ve got a new housekeeper who’s definitely Indian, judging by the red circle on her forehead.

Mike, the manager, called up while Tom was out getting the check. I let him know Tom would be in any minute and he asked if everything else was ok. I let him know the shower drain was clogged again and he sent Satish up to fix it.

When he got back, he booked the room till Wednesday. Then with the Clorox check or his next paycheck, if worse comes to worst and there’s an issue with the Clorox check, we can book till Saturday and be back in sync with the weekends again. That way he doesn’t have to get up early on Fridays, run out and get the check, put the money on the card, then rush back to book the room.

We passed Say on the way in to see Mike before heading over to eat. The paperwork takes time to be faxed to the office once he’s booked the room through Hotwire, which he usually does at night rather than late morning. But since they know us so well, Mike said not to worry, we could sign in in the morning.

THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 2008 The $500 Clorox check is on its way!!! I’m so relieved I’m actually crying tears of relief and grinning like a mad idiot. If I could react like this over $500, imagine how ballistic I’d go over the 9K if we could ever get it. I plan to ask for time frames next Monday. If he dances around the subject with vague answers and says stuff like “shortly,” Tom will sic Consumer Affairs on them.

The discouraging dream I had was the one describing the “shared” wall in our new place to my folks, though I suppose I should be happy if it’s a sign that we’ll at least live to escape this room.

The scary dream that I hope was just a dream and not a warning was where I dreamt that for some reason I went to work with Tom. We were eating in a semi-crowded cafeteria when we looked out the window and saw a pig car pull up. A few minutes later, someone called for someone to come see the police over an intercom. Just as we were breathing sighs of relief, they also added, “Tom, Tom S, you too, come and talk to the police.” Now he really has to watch his back and I’ll have to up the prayers and spells big time! He thinks it’s just me being paranoid since there is no cafeteria at work and the dream didn’t involve him getting pulled over. He’s on his way to work right now. Hopefully, he won’t email me to say he got pulled over. Hopefully, the worst-case scenario is just a scare with a pig driving along too close. At least someone won’t get what cost us thousands over the years for just $87!

I really do hope this is finally the beginning of the end! What a wonderful day it’s turned out to be so far. Even our annoying endroomers are gone. It may be way too soon before the new slam-bangers get here, but for now, all is wonderfully peaceful.

Say did the room yesterday and Tom will have Satish return to fix the clogged drain tomorrow when he goes to sign in.

Jessie says she’s stressed out because her brother Ben needs a place to stay and he has Crone’s disease and won’t take his meds or see a doctor. Their mother won’t take him in and Jes won’t take him either because he parties. Her mother’s husband told him she would, so she’s pissed off about that one. She says to slap her if she ever gets that uncaring about her kids. I reminded her there’s someone I’d like to do a lot more than just slap who stopped caring about one of her kids herself.

TUESDAY, MARCH 11, 2008 God’s little bum just checking in.

Another “nothing” week has ended and another’s begun. The neighbors are annoying me with their scattering of bumps and bangs, one of which woke me up early this morning, and of course, it’s coming from the end room. If we don’t decide to move next door to the inner room just in case it is Tink’s spirit trapping us here and to escape that room, then I hope they leave soon.

There are 3 people over there and they have a set routine from what I can tell. They bop and bang on and off from the early morning hours till 2:00 when one slams out 20 seconds before the other slams out, which is weird. Like maybe one is following the other like a bodyguard or something? Then the third one stays behind to carry on with the annoying scattering of bumps and thunks. I have my sound machine going, and the fan above the range, but they can only do so much to cover sounds.

Tom thinks Clorox will come through this week. I think they will too, this week or next, and I hope they will, but until they do I can’t rest easy. This is because we’ve not only had to play pawn-it some more (this time it was my ring and the navigator), but if nothing else comes through by the 1st, we’ll lose our stuff. We don’t have enough stuff left to pawn in order to save it. Tom’s pretty sure we’ll get the check and that he could hit his boss for a loan if need be, but being “pretty sure” doesn’t exactly cut it. And as it turns out, Jessie can’t be of any help herself. I asked if she’d pay our storage in return for my Spa Finder GC, but now she suddenly has to pay her daughter’s doctor’s account balance before her 5th birthday in a couple of weeks. She said she’d let me know by then if she could help as a spa treatment sounds really nice, but I won’t count on it. Our best bet is going to be either Clorox or his boss. I’d hate to bother my folks at their ages and with their problems. I’d like to think even God could never hate us enough to see us lose our stuff after all we’ve already been through and no doubt will go through, but if we do, I’m so outa here! One can only live to keep losing so much, you know? We lost our house in Arizona and our land in Oregon, and so if we lose our stuff here, then I’ll really know for sure there’s no getting ahead for us, not that I haven’t figured as much a long time ago. I really hope we don’t lose it, though, and that Tom’s not just being Mr. Overconfident, as usual.

Michelle called up earlier and woke poor Tom up to ask me if I wanted the housekeeper today or tomorrow. I told her that as far as I was concerned we were always on for Wednesdays, so tomorrow would be fine. In the meantime, I mentioned we were thinking of moving to 336, but only told her some of the reasons – to get away from the end room because it’s occupied more than the generic rooms, and because the AC doesn’t work right, nor does the carousel in the microwave turn, and of course, the refrigerator leaks.

So Satish came up and while he was checking things out I couldn’t resist commenting on how people like to get our hopes up for no reason when he asked if we’d be checking out soon. According to him, he’s still house-hunting, which really means he’s waiting to see how much longer prices keep falling. Anyway, the dumb cock didn’t get it as far as the AC goes, but he replaced the cover and filter. He fixed the microwave and reset the fridge at a setting he says will keep it from leaking.

FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2008 When Tom went to the office yesterday, the manager was there and commented on how long we’ve been here. It turns out they’re starting an apartment program here cuz of the economy and to attract more business, charging a grand a month. The wonderful catch is that this includes no housekeeping. While this certainly would’ve been helpful months ago (if we could’ve come up with the initial grand), it serves no purpose if Rhino or Clorox or Jessie can spring us out of here soon enough. Besides, it’s so ridiculous to charge a grand for a room and one that doesn’t even have an oven, when you can rent a house for that much!

The funny thing is that Tom’s noticed the same pattern I have, and he pointed out that now that they’re finally offering this, someone will come through for us before we could ever get a chance to benefit from it. At least I hope that pattern still holds true! Especially in this case.

I’m a bit concerned about something that could happen in the future even though it’s unlikely. I know someone who did something illegal. It was a misdemeanor and a warrant was issued for their arrest even though they were in another state. I’m not going to get into the particulars, but I worry about the way things change and how it may later catch up to them. I know the odds of that actually happening are next to nothing and that they probably have a better chance of winning the lottery. But I still worry for them.

Take DNA for example. Look at all the cases that went unsolved for so many years before that came about. So many suspects remained free and went about their daily lives, as usual, year after year, until DNA finally got them arrested. Well, what if there is a convenient way to round up those with outstanding warrants someday no matter where they are?

These days we can reach out to anyone in any part of the world with a simple click of the mouse. It never used to be that way. Someone in the US couldn’t easily chat with someone in Europe one minute and then Asia the next. So yeah, I’m a little worried for them in that I wonder if someday it will be that simple for anyone with outstanding warrants to be arrested. They better build a shitload of additional jails as I would think that would be millions of people.

Actually, it’s almost 800K, according to what I just googled, but it said there could be more.

Even though it’s a non-violent crime, I know how twisted this country’s laws are. It’s always the non-violent crimes that get the harsher sentences. Non-violent or not, I swear they committed a misdemeanor. Well, I read that those expire after 180 days which is 6 months. Yet they’ve had a warrant on them for years. Is the site just not up to date or something with its list of outstanding warrants? Either way, it’s not a violent crime so I would be worried about them doing time if ever they were picked up.

THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2008 Right before 9:00, I called down to Michelle to ask that the housekeeper start with me. She’s usually quick and to the point over the phone, but she took the time to ask how I was and told me to have a good morning after assuring me she’d have me done first. It was my favorite that arrived shortly afterward – Kissum.

Tom met both her and Satish, cuz Satish came to bring me a clean blanket which I had asked for after giving Kissum the one that had been here ever since, with things spilled on it like coffee, soda and other things best left to the imagination.

Just a little while ago, I called the front desk to complain about the room below us. They’d been partying, shouting and slamming doors down there for 3 hours. Meanwhile, I’m trying to get some work done and I don’t need to hear it. The fact that they were below us and not next to us ought to give you an idea of just how loud they were. I was told security would ask them to quiet down or they’d have to leave. Well, other than a few scattered bumps and bangs, it’s definitely been quieter since I called.

In an email from Jessie responding to my telling her I worried that Rhino was a scam, she said that’s horrible and asked if I could call the news people. Then she asked, “I know you hate it, but how much do you need for an apartment?” This makes me think she may want to help spring us out of here and into an apartment, and you know what? As much as I hate apartments, I’m so sick of this place sucking every last dime out of us that I’m ready to go for that if that’s all that’s meant to be, and you know we’re not allowed to be where we want to be anyway. But at least there, as insanely noisy as it would be, we’d have our stuff, more than one room, and we’d no longer have to deal with housekeepers. Being in a cheaper place would be half the battle which would be wonderful, but there’s still the 2, preferably 3 grand we need for a new vehicle and some furniture and appliances we need, plus I’ve still got to see a dentist. Once we get moved, then he can start looking for a new job that pays better and that will insure us both ASAP. But with this place sucking every spare dime we’ve got, our hands are tied. It’s $330 a week for this room, plus the storage, plus gas/food. He has a 35-minute drive to/from work.

Then I got an idea. I told Jessie I at least received the $100 Spa Finder certificate I won, but would much rather have our storage paid for. I told her it’d be no biggie if she said no, that we had all month to pay it, but that if she wanted, I’d gladly mail her the certificate if she’d pay our storage online, using our account number.

As I also told her, Tom said that the reason he still thinks they’re going to pay is that it really does take a couple of months to get all the necessary signatures to cut checks and all that crap. The only difference is that while Clorox, who’s a much bigger company and more experienced with sweeps, told us it’d take a couple of months up front, Rhino didn’t. But if worse comes to worst, he also said we’d have to wait 6 months, which would mean around July, but yeah, we can contact the consumer protection department and let them know we never received payment. We have the win notice and all the emails saved. Tom will start hounding them again too, with more harsh and insistent calls and emails of his own. I really hope he’s right and they pay up in time.

As I told Jessie, the apartments themselves are gorgeous and have a lot to offer for the money. It’s the damn noise, both inside and out, that’s utterly maddening. But like I said, if that’s the best we can do for a while, so be it. We’re ready. Getting our expenses down, if only a few hundred a month, is half the battle. It’s the only way to be able to move ahead, so to speak, and get other things we need. Then would come the icing on the cake, as in getting new ratties. I miss having pets!

I was freaking out for a couple of days after a huge misunderstanding. I partly misunderstood Tom, but I also thought he was playing down how bad off we were. I thought we were back in October again, facing either the streets or death. I’d still definitely take death over the streets, but I’d much rather live and do some of the things I miss doing, even if I have to do them in the midst of loud, rude, obnoxious assholes that are so attention-starved they just can’t shut up.

TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2008 Tom says he’s been at peace for days now and accepts the fact that things are going to be as they are. He says he doesn’t think I’m ready to die because I’m still mad and sad. Oh, but I am ready, alright, as opposed to settling for what few options we have in our sorry lives. Sure I’m pissed and depressed. I wanted the same American dream we all want. I wanted a nice place to live and to do the things we enjoy doing. But for some of us, that simply can never be. My dream house was just that – a dream. I hope that when we’re dead God will love us enough to give us a nice home in the afterlife, but I was foolish to trust Him in this life. If he didn’t care about innocent kids who got murdered or innocent victims of natural disasters, why should He care about us?

We could wait for the Clorox check, assuming they’re not the scammers Rhino is. And we could then either stay here or get into an apartment while he continued to drive a vehicle with expired plates till we could one day save up for a new vehicle, but what kind of life is that? I’m not only tired of being the underdog, I’m tired of being forced to live where I don’t want to live. It’s been that way, for the most part, since I was 15, so you’d think by now I’d be plenty used to it, but I’m not. The further away a rural house with breathing space around it gets, and the more I’m forced to live with people just a wall away, or at best, a wall and a few feet, the more frustrated I get, the more hopeless I feel that things will ever change.

We could also assume what we read in the medical journal is correct and that a doctor at a sleep clinic could easily enough prove my sleep disorder by testing my melatonin levels, but I know that just because it was me trying to get my disability benefits reinstated, I wouldn’t succeed. If God wanted us to have enough money, He wouldn’t have sicced this schedule curse on me to prevent me from working a regular job, not that that would’ve been any fun at all. But that was the whole point of it just the same; to hold us back financially and limit our options.

There’s no changing the fact that I can never have any dreams come true. It doesn’t matter if it’s a perfectly reasonable dream either. All it has to do is belong to me, and as long as the dream is mine, simple, outrageous or in between, it is not allowed to be granted. Period. And there’s nothing I or anyone else can do about that fact.

Tom has always seen the world through the eyes of a child. As children, we think all will work out and be ok, that if we just do the work necessary to achieve our goals and dreams, then sooner or later they will come to pass. But I see the world in a more realistic way. I see that we would’ve struggled most of our lives on just one income, probably been poor as hell in retirement, etc.

Like I told Tom, sure I’m upset. I wanted to be happy, to have fun, to do things we like to do. But no matter what age we die at, there’s always going to be something we were currently doing or hoped to do. I still say it’s better to go now, together, like a real Romeo and Juliet team, before enduring another 40 years of settling, struggling and all kinds of bullshit just to watch him get old and die of whatever, then have to follow him to the grave cuz I couldn’t stand to live without him, even if we had all the money in the world. So you see, I’d only have to kill myself someday anyway.

Until the wee hours of Thursday morning, I shall do my best to remind myself that for every good thing I’ll miss out on, there’ll be dozens of headaches I’ll also be missing out on. I’ll never have a lobster again, but soon there will be no more ear or tooth pain. I’ll never get to listen to my stereo again, but soon there’ll be no more door slamming or TV blasting to have to listen to. I’ll never see my dolls again, my friends or family, but I’ll never live to again see either of us upset by some cruel person or fate that got our hopes up for nothing.

For the first time in over a decade, I got the urge to run to mommy and daddy. To have them wrap their arms around me while I cry on their shoulders. Ridiculous for a 42-year-old, I suppose, but maybe we really will meet again someday. It just won’t be in this life. Despite the things they’ve said and done that have hurt or angered me, I dread the idea of the Sacramento police, or whoever does these sorts of things, calling to tell them their daughter and her husband have killed themselves, and having to put this on them at their ages and with their health problems, but I think in the end they’ll come to understand that we did what we felt was best. I suppose it’ll be like déjà vu all over again for them, bringing bad memories about when my nephew died, but we all have to do what we have to do. If they read these journals, hopefully it will make it at least a little easier on them to know how we felt and how limited our resources and options really were. I let them know we don’t care what happens to our bodies and that our stuff was theirs if they want it.

I know one thing for sure and that’s that I totally regret coming down here. It’s really too bad too, as I think I could’ve really liked it here if only climate-wise.

It’s going to be hard on my friends too, especially Mary because she’s so sensitive. But if she can survive having her daughter killed, she can get over me in time.

MONDAY, MARCH 3, 2008 Amazingly, it’s been one whole week that we haven’t had to deal with anyone in the end room, but they’ve been putting one person after another in the inside room. They haven’t been a problem, though, fortunately. The last guest was a little annoying, but they haven’t come and gone like crazy or gotten carried away with the banging like end roomers love to do.

Now for the bad news. I dreamt I was telling Tom there was enough food to eat for a while, and he said, “That’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about paying for the motel and gas.” As soon as I awoke from that one, I knew there was trouble ahead. Sure enough, the horses were the biggest letdown, losing $12 in an attempt to double the money, since we thought he finally homed in on the numbers. Even I have to admit it had looked more promising than ever, but it was just another tease from above. Yeah, something up there is just so damn bored that it needed another good laugh at our expense. If it isn’t God cursing us, then what is??? First it’s Satish with his house, then the 9K, and now the horses again. What next?

Now past dreams and events make more sense. The dream where the horses won 2K was only signaling the extreme fluke we had where it won a few days in a row like never before. The Netwinner dream meant Rhino still won’t pay up. And October wasn’t to reunite my folks and I but to prepare us for our inevitable deaths. Last October wasn’t a reprieve, but just a short life extension. That’s all it was. If there was any meaning behind the reunion it was only to pass along our stuff to them, if they’d like to have it. I’ve left notes for them with ways to contact my friends, for Tammy, explaining why I could never forgive her, and for the motel, letting them know, as I did with my folks, that we’re sorry to have to put them out as nice as they’ve been to us. I gave my folks access to my doc files and more, so they could get a better understanding of why we’re going to off ourselves, but I don’t think they’ll ever get it because fortunately for them, while they may’ve had their share of problems, they’ve never gone through anything remotely like what we have, so it’s hard for people to understand what they can’t relate to.

I’m just sick of this shit!!! Every time it looks like there’s hope after all and that we may make it out of here, other than to a rocking apartment, it turns out the joke’s on us. It’s like something up there has given us an ultimatum – either stay put or suffer an apartment. Well, we’re not going to do either! We’ve suffered and settled with enough! I’ll miss spending time with Tom, my stereo, downloading music, renting movies, reading, writing, getting dolls and incense, having rats, and so much more. But we won’t be struggling in the midst of people who can’t shut up and let us even think in peace, let alone live in it. Tom doesn’t want to die but loves me enough not to let me die alone, saying that we’re not backed into a corner this time and that we do have a choice. But look at what the choices are! We’re backed in enough, just not in the desperate way we were last October. I’m sure that most people would agree that if their only choices were to live poorly and miserably or die, they’d rather die.

Tom said he considered lying and saying we won today, but he doesn’t do that. That’s good, cuz he couldn’t have hidden this forever, though he certainly did the right thing by not letting me know that the new debit card was really 10 days away and not 3, cuz I’d have been freaking out a whole lot more than I was if that were even possible.

He said today he found that this particular brain he used couldn’t do California tracks like his other one could, and while he admitted that he was wrong about those 3 ingredients being the answer, he’s still so damn naively optimistic! He still thinks it’ll work out and that Rhino will pay us. I know he can’t help how he is, but he’s the one that’s been wrong on things lately and I’m the one who’s been right. If I say I don’t see us ever owning a place again or living in a peaceful place without the problem neighbors and money struggles until we do, why would I be wrong? Of course I haven’t been able to picture, to feel us ever getting out of here, moving into a place, unpacking our stuff. Because it’s not going to happen!

SUNDAY, MARCH 2, 2008 Friday was shitty, yesterday was better. Either way, I can’t believe it’s March and we’re still here, and I got falsely promised 9K by a huge company! But I’ve been places I didn’t want to be since I was 15 years old, and my life’s been full of false hope and promises, so I shouldn’t be too surprised. It’s ironic that he fine-tuned the horses right after we reapplied that spell, though, and stopped that cold from setting in. Too bad it hasn’t done a damn thing as of yet to get Rhino to pay up and I doubt it ever will at this point. The only problem with the horses is that while even I’m now surer than ever that yes, it can get us more than comfortable money-wise, is how long it may take to do it. I still worry we could be here for several more months and that alone makes me want to drop dead. This may not be jail or Valleyhead or a project, but it’s still no place to live either. If I’d known just how bad things would be down here, and if I’d finally learned that, for me, dreams are just dreams not meant to be made a reality, and if I’d known that the horse thing wasn’t a bust, after all, I’d have stayed up in that freeing dump until we could’ve saved more than enough to go to Nevada. But I’m also glad I did get to live out my dream of living in California, even if it’s nothing like I dreamt it to be.

The reason I was bummed out Friday was that it lost a couple of bucks. He made most of it back yesterday, and that’s when he realized he’s needed 3 ingredients all along – the computer’s picks, the expert’s picks, and his picks. The computer can’t predict every single horse in every single race, the experts make sure to keep the percentages low enough so people still want to bet in person at the tracks themselves, and Tom’s only human. However, he’s found that if all 3 agree when making predictions, then he’s more likely to profit. He said not to worry if we have losing days because that’s to be expected. I didn’t know this and thought we had to profit every day in order to succeed. He said that had he gone about things the way he used to, without those 3 ingredients, he’d have lost money today for sure. Up until yesterday, he was doing one track a day, today he did two, and tomorrow he’s going to do 4. Then he hopes to be able to bet more money to make more money.

He stood up till 1 AM to get himself used to the new hours coming up. He’ll be working 2 PM-10 PM and may still get overtime at times. They said he’d still get the 5% shift differential if they have him work days, which they might sometimes have him do. He’ll only be working with one nice quiet guy, instead of all those mean, rude assholes, so he’s happy about that, even though we’d both still prefer him not to have to work for anyone but us!

All in all, I still don’t know that we’ll ever get out of this room alive. He agrees there’s a possibility Tinkerbell has something to do with holding us back here since this is the last place she was, and so we both agreed to talk to her in our own way, even though I already have and urge her to let us go and to follow us out of here. We’re letting her know that the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can get new rats for her to channel through.

At least we’re back in shorts and running the AC during the daytime while the Klammers are getting down to just 15º tonight!

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onyourhyuck · 2 years ago

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Never-Ending Goodbyes. | Johnny Suh (M) | PART ONE.

Prologue: “No, No you cannot return after 16 years thinking you can walk back into her life, Johnny. That’s now how it freaking works.” + “I beg you to give me a chance and let me see her. I realised the mistake I made and I don’t plan on letting her go.”

The Summary: It’s always been you and your daughter Eve. Johnny’s never intended to be in the family picture considering he chose his career instead, but after sixteen years your daughter’s seventeen birthday came up and now Johnny is back asking for a second chance.

The Warnings: Second Chance trope. Johnny got the milk bro. Found family trope. Romance. Angst. Very angsty. Lots of heartbreak. Single mum supremacy. Slight crack but only mild funny relief.

The Taglist: @roxyvogue @lanawyi @thedaisyarchive @1-800-call-ria @rjreins @pckeia @baeyrah @reader221 @hoseokssl

The Notes: Who wants more parts to see fanfic? Lemme know.

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“Mummmmmmmmmm.”

Your daughter, Evelyn whines as she pushes the stroller full of the groceries you were picking up from the shelves inside Walmart. She never liked shopping, especially because all she does is push the stroller and having to deal with hours of watching you become indecisive of what to get and not to get. It’s ridiculous, knowing she could’ve been at HOME, playing overwatch and Valorant and grinding on that game. But no, you dragged her inside Walmart for your daily grocery shopping because your house is empty and the fridge needs to be restocked.

You didn’t pay attention to all that whining and complaining behind you as your thumb caressed the peanut butter jar spread humming. “What ya think, should we get this peanut butter spread to try out?” You ask turning to your daughter Evelyn.

Evelyn scowls as she sassily grabs the jar and puts it back on the shelf. Instead she grabs the Nutella jar. “Ew mum, Nutella is better. Get Nutella.” She tells and you smile. “I knew you’d say that.”

“Guess who’s seventeen tomorrow.” You sang in a sweet tone acting like you wouldn’t know who. Your daughter smirks at your endless teasing looking away slightly embarrassed as she whines out again, “Mummm.” She tells you and you close your lips shut nodding.

“Okay okay I’ll stop annoying you.”

You tell Evelyn, but you can’t help but to annoy her even more.

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Morning washed over Evelyn’s face when she saw your figure standing in front of her bedroom window , wide open curtains allowing the sunshine to hit her face. Heck she didn’t even hear you walking inside you were like a ghost. You turn to your daughter who whines pushing the pillows on top of her face to cover the damn sun from blinding her.

“Wakey wakey sleeping beauty, you’re seventeen today!” You cheer and she kicks herself up from the bed stretching. You embrace her lovingly and Evelyn allows you to basically suffocate her in this warm hearting hug of the century.

She muffled in your shoulder. “Yeah- thanks mum love you too, but there’s no need to suffocate me.” She jokingly adds and you let go with a beckoning grin. Evelyn always throws in sarcastic and dry jokes. It reminds you of someone but you wouldn’t want to reminiscent about who that was. It would only ruin the happy and cheerful mood of today. You bring your hand from the back pocket as you turn it to Evelyn with your both hands closed right.

She looks at you in suspicious manner as her eyebrows curve upright. “What’s this?” She questions and you lean closer whispering. “Guess which hand.” You tell her and Evelyn turns your right hand over revealing a small jewellery box. You smile opening it as your daughter looks astonished by the beautiful necklace in sight. It was golden and the middle diamond was green, her favourite colour and her favourite gem; emerald.

You let a few words of acknowledgment as Evelyn stands in front of a mirror with her pyjamas on still, but as you were behind her (you were still slightly taller than her however she was nearing close to your height considering she’s at your shoulder length now.) putting the necklace around her neck from behind and smiling proudly at how grown up she is.

“Do you like it, Eve?” You tell her kindly and she traces her finger on the emerald in awe. “Like it? Mum I freaking love it!” She blurts out before turning around engulfing you in a deep and exciting hug.

You laugh out loud as you rub her back and until both bodies pull apart she looks in the mirror again, checking out how the beautiful necklace looks on her fair skin. You cross your arms as you point to the closet now.

“Come on get ready, I’m taking you out to the diner to get breakfast.” You tell her .

Eve gasps dramatically. “Oh my god what happened to mum and who are you? You never like to eat at diners because the foods greasy.”

“Ha ha ha very funny.” You roll your eyes at the words as you click your lips pointing at your watch on the arm. “Hurry up before I change my mind Eve.” You tease closing the door. You heard the sudden footsteps rushingly trying to change, you know how much your daughter loves the diners especially the sweet American styled diners. Chicago has a lot of open spaces and it’s practically American culture.

You’re an American too but you never seem to fit in considering the fact that you weren’t born here. But the love of your life was born here unfortunately, not anymore. You brush past your inner thoughts and get inside the car waiting for your daughter to come out.

Speaking of your daughter she rushed out with her shoes barely on. Locking the front door as she opens the car door and goes inside, fixing on the chunky sneakers on her feet. You smile admiring how she was dressed today.

Evelyn wore an outfit perfect for the January season. It’s cold and Chicago is known for being the most windy state. Her natural curls fall on her shoulders, she cut her hair few months ago and now it’s grown quite a lot. She used to have super long hair and you guess she got bored of it, so she cut it really short. Her naturally curly eyelashes perk up as she put on some blush and lip balm on. It was natural beauty she has, honestly, you wish you looked like that when you were younger. Because puberty hit you like a truck.

Evelyn fixed her white sweater in the car mirror as you start the car. “You got everything you need?” You ask and the teenage girl hums a nod. “Yeah, lesgo I’m starving mama.” She complained rubbing her stomach as she closed the mirror on the car. You chuckle driving out of the car space.

The drive to the diner wasn’t that long however to your hangry daughter it felt more than a fifteen minute drive considering the fact her stomach kept on growling and growling. You wanted to joke that she’s hiding a bear or something in that stomach of hers. Once you and your daughter entered the driver you took a seat nearby the windows with four seats, the red cushion chairs and brown table with a candy theme going on. The waitress took your order and than you had to wait a few minutes which was also another crisis for your daughter who was impatiently waiting. The minute your plates arrive on the table let’s just say, Evelyn was possibly the most happiest person in the diner. She was clapping her hands and everything. You told her that she can get whatever she wants because you’ll pay for it.

Who would Evelyn be if she didn’t take you upon that offer huh? Let’s say you try to not look at the bill paper afterwards because you just know it would hurt your damn bank balance but let’s ignore that for today. You ordered waffles on the side of butter and covered with maple syrup and a flat white coffee; you need your daily dose cup of coffee that’s for sure. Evelyn on the other hand ordered extra. She ordered a stack of pancakes with nuttella and whipcream and a desert shake afterwards. You have to laugh a little because the amount of sugar she will intake but at least you’re glad she’s getting lots.

It is her seventeen and you are happy she’s still your little girl. Because next year she won’t be so little unfortunately and it might pain you. It’s already paining you to see her grow up from being such a little bean and now into a full grown human. You birthed her and it’s still, kinda shocking for you to admit how much the years have passed.

“Whoa slow down Eve it won’t run away.” You laugh as you saw Eve eat her pancakes, she was excited and you can tell the way she bops her head to the music of the diner.

Eve hums. “Oh by the way are we seeing nana later on?” She questions and you flash her a smile as you sip on your flat white.

Eve and your mother get along really well. If you have to be honest you’d have to say your mum replaced you with Eve. But you really don’t mind, you love their closeness. On the other hand Eve and your dad have a little love hate thing going on. It’s all banter though. Your dad has always been strict and he thinks Eve is getting slightly spoiled by you and nana.

“Yeah we are. She has presents to give you later.” You wiggle your eyebrows and Eve’s eyes sparkle. “Wait what did she get me?”

“I’m not telling you that!”

You exclaim with a smile and Eve flashed her puppy eyes at you that you often struggle to say no to. You look away and Eve huffs inside her seat. “Okay don’t tell me, I’ll know eventually today.” She says and you look at her with a hum, nomming on the waffles.

As your plates were crystal clear with no food left behind Eve took her shake drink and you would leave the diner going back inside your car heading home. As you arrive home you would get ready for your grandparents visit, every year you held your daughters birthday party at their house. They have a bigger house than you and considering they live nearby everyone related to you it’s best to spend Eve’s birthday there.

Eve comes downstairs wearing a white flowy dress and her hair prettily in a half up and half down style, wearing that emerald new necklace and her slippers on currently (god forbid if she wore shoes inside the house you’d murder her.) you smile looking her up and down.

“What?” She shyly said to you.

“You’re beautiful. Ready to leave?” You ask and she grins out. “I was born ready, comeee I miss nana.” She whines rushing to the door to put her shoes on but the minute the door opened she soon saw a figure standing there about to knock, she blinks at the person few times before questioning in confusion.

“Uh… can I help you?” Evelyn bluntly tells as she finally puts on the shoes and you couldn’t help but recognise the voice from the kitchen.

“I’m looking for…” he pauses as he realised who he was talking to, it was like a copy and paste of himself but female. You rush to the door and your eyes widen. Oh, oh god what’s happening you ask yourself before bringing Evelyn back, giving her the car keys.

“Evelyn go inside the car I’ll be right there .” You tell her rather hurried and she looks at you weirdly and at the man before pushing past him. Johnny bites his bottom lip awkwardly as he points at Eve and back at you. “Eve? That’s eve?” He questions. He swears she had her first birthday literally last week.

You stare at him as if he was serious or pretending to be dumb with you.

“Johnny what the hell are you doing here.” You said coldly not really looking at home as you push your jacket back on. Johnny however couldn’t take his eyes off you, he was admiring you and trying his hardest not to stare too hard for you to notice. He pushes past and clears his throat. “I wanted to see Eve. It’s her birthday so..”

“Yeah? do you know how old she is now?” You retort back as you close the door shut slamming it. Johnny flinched watching you become frustrated, actually emotional and he didn’t mean to upset you if he knew his presence would make you angry. You glare up at him as Johnny stared back, with guilty.

“I…” He begins and you cut him off with a scoff. “You don’t even know your daughter’s birthday. Wow.”

Yup. There it goes. Johnny thought. You push Johnny away from the pathway as you make it to the car, Evelyn sitting inside the car confused and both scared when she saw Johnny grab your wrist and stop you from walking way. You turn around with an enticing deathly glare before snatching your wrist back.

“I’m sorry Y/n please listen to me.” Johnny trails slowly.

“I beg you to give me a chance and let me see her. I realised the mistake I made and I don’t plan on letting her go.”

“No, No you cannot return after 16 years thinking you can walk back into her life, Johnny. That’s now how it freaking works.”

You shout at him this time loudly and he stands there quiet as he watches you. It’s terrifying to be yelled at by you but it’s not hurting him as much as seeing you and Evelyn living your life without him and all because he made a wrong choice years ago. Who would’ve thought he left such a large scar in your heart and now his daughter’s life too? He reaches to hold your hands together as you let him but you can’t help but feel ashamed. Clenching your eyes as you are avoiding to cry. You don’t want your daughter’s seventeenth to be depressing and shit, Johnny didn’t want this either.

“I made a mistake and I regret it. I don’t know what I was thinking back then choosing and prioritising my work over my family. If I knew how this would’ve hurt you I would’ve never done it. I mean this.” He stated thickly as his dark longing eyes watch yours, becoming teary eyed you shake your head clearing your voice. “I have to go. Eve’s watching and my parents are waiting for me to drop her.” You explain to him and he nods softly letting your hands go.

You were about to walk away, until his voice calls out from behind and you turn around.

“Do you think i can come back?”

Johnny solely says out and you watch him with brimming tears rolling down your cheek. Clenching your fists as your look down.

“It’s not up to me.” You tell him. “It’s Evelyn’s choice.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu! REBLOG AND FOLLOW ME FOR MORE UPDATES ON THE FIC <3 HELPS A GIRL OUT.

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slashersgostabbystabstab · 3 years ago

Text

Halloween Oreos (Michael Myers x Reader)

Original Ask: How about some snack time with Micheal uwu sharing Halloween oreos with his s/o or someone me whose getting close to him. Perhaps they buy him some huehue

_____________

Haddonfield had become a rather quiet place following the Halloween murders, the following years becoming somewhat grim.

Halloween was no longer the same, or at least it was something that made the residents of Haddonfield tense up. Even after thirteen years, people were sometimes too afraid to speak the Boogeyman’s name. At least, people finally came out of their homes, as if the plague was already over with. After thirteen years, one could have said that the Boogeyman was no more.

October had finally come around, and this year Haddonfield was gifted with a veil of fresh white snow on just the third day of the month.

You grunted as you fixed the plastic bags in your hands, the mittens you wore making it somewhat difficult to properly hold them.Today was the day to go out for groceries, a task you only did every now and then due to your current living condition.

“Need help there?” you heard a voice behind you, prompting you to turn and see the cashier that had rung you up in the grocery store.

“Oh! Ah,” you gave a nervous chuckle as you once again fixed the plastic bags. “I-I can bear, thank you though.”

“I really don’t mind lending a hand, especially in this weather.”

“It’s alright.” you insisted, especially after a chill ran down your back, your eyes glancing around as an uneasy feeling came over you. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. I just need to get going right now. Somebody’s waiting for me.”

“Ah, I see.” he nodded, taking a step back as you sighed in relief. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Thank you, have a nice day.” you nodded as well, not bothering to watch him leave as you knew the consequences of such things.

As you headed to your car, you took notice of a news crew that had stationed itself across the road, right at a sidewalk that led to another array of stores. The crew was specifically focused on a hardware store that had its glass windows broken, even the farthest eye could see the bloody handprints that were splattered on the walls inside as well as other blood prints.

You shivered at the thought of what had gone down inside, instead focusing on the trunk of your car before loading everything inside. Not paying much attention to the camera crew, or at least not wanting to do so, you hopped into your car to drive out of town. But not before taking a good look at your surroundings, on edge about the eyes that were possibly watching your every move.

_____________

Home was a rather lengthy ride, no more than an hour’s time thankfully, but the searching for it was what made up for that isolation you required. Considering the situation you lived in, your partially preferred living arrangements lie in the woods outside of town, where things were calm and quiet.

Hopping out of your car, you felt as the snow began to fall once again. This meant that in the morning, the veil would be much thicker and there was no going out, especially as your small home was situated in a deep part of the woods.

Hearing your boots with every step, you unloaded the groceries which would definitely be taking more than one go. You made your way towards the cabin in front of you, coming to stop after walking onto the porch as your eyes caught crimson.

Right on the wood were boot prints, every single one as red as the blood from the hardware store.

Your eyes followed the trail that led to the door itself, and you took notice of it being ajar.

Dropping the bags onto the porch, you placed a hand on the door to cautiously take a step inside. The creak of the door was enough to have you jump back the slightest bit, especially as your eyes continued to examine the trail of blood that led into the kitchen.

Now, you knew not to act like a girl in a horror movie but…

“Hello?” you called out into the emptiness of your home, holding your keys close to either fight with them or immediately flee to the car. “Is that you-”

Soon enough your scream pierced the air as you jumped off the ground, this due to feeling a rough hand clasp onto your shoulder from behind.

Once you had turned around, you groaned at the sight of an older man that stared down at you with dead eyes.

“Michael!” you yelled at him, then fixing your jacket which had slightly crumpled up at the shoulder where you had been grabbed. “I thought you were someone else.”

The man before you in no way flinched, not even bothering to blink as he continued to watch your every move.

“You leave in the middle of the night without a word and leave me alone all day.” you mentioned before passing by him, knowing that he turned his entire body to always be facing you. “Well now that you’re done with scaring the hell out of me, I’m done with the groceries. Won’t need to go out until January I think. I hope so, since it’s starting to get pretty cold out.”

Michael Myers, the Shape or Boogeyman of Haddonfield, stood right at your door with not a care in the world. If anything, your door to your house, was his door to his house. It had been this way for quite awhile now.

A few years actually.

It was surprising that he was not wearing his mask, his blue and clouded eye completely fixated on your figure as you grabbed the bags right at the entrance.

Once you had grabbed the bags at the door and then the remaining ones in the car, you shut and locked the door before being followed by Michael into the kitchen.

After he had spared you years back, Michael had come to act like a cat. Always with his nose on the lookout for what it is you would be feeding him. Hilariously, that was just how Michael reluctantly came into your life.

“I haven’t prepared anything since I’ve been out most of the day.” you admitted, ever so quietly laughing at the soft groan that rumble in Michael’s throat. “I did find some sweet goodies at the market though. Especially at WalMart.”

Michael didn’t always understand the things you talked about, but he was always listening. Always watching. Learning.

“They have these new cookies for the season. The orange looks kind of funny, but I’m pretty sure they taste the same as the originals.” you mentioned as you set the groceries on the counter, looking through the bags as you began to put everything in its place. “I also got you some stuff to shave off that scruff.”

Michael’s eyes darted down in an attempt to look at his chin, instead seeing you hand placed under it as you softly rubbed your thumb on it.

“Though I have to admit that it’s starting to grow on me.” you smiled before making your way back to the groceries. “Just like the greys in your hair.”

It really had been a few years since you had met Michael, a relationship forming after a pretty good while. He was in his mid-twenties, practically a middle-aged man now who hadn’t been found by the authorities this entire time thanks to you.

As you began to prepare a hot beverage for yourself, and Michael who you knew would ignore it but drink it behind your back, you knew that Michael was watching you intently. His eyes were glued on your hands that grabbed a pumpkin you had purchased. Somehow, he had not even realized the large vegetable as you brought it in.

“Found a recipe you might like, especially for the cold.” you spoke before grabbing a kitchen knife, one that piqued Michale’s interest but was not enough to have him snatching it away due to its size. “Especially with all the pumpkins that are out now.”

To his dissatisfaction, you set the knife down besides the pumpkin on the counter before facing him.

“But before I make that, I’m gonna go change. These clothes are starting to make me feel stuffy.” you removed your jacket as you walked around the counter and out the kitchen, for once not being followed by Michael who was now focused on the knife you had left behind.

Knowing that you would be too focused on finding one of his shirts to wear, he approached the counter to take hold of the knife, bringing it to his face to admire how it shone under the kitchen light. He first held it pointing upwards, but changed it so that he was instead gripping it with the blade pointing down. His head craned to the vegetable beside him, and instinct got the best of him.

“I see you got started with the pumpkin.” he heard your voice, turning around after having jabbed the knife down into the pumpkin which had more than a simple wound.

Michael grabbed the knife once again to pull it out, his entire body facing you once again as he tilted his head at your figure.

Your eyes fell to the knife that contained a bit of pumpkin residue, even a seed or two managed to slip out due to Michael’s brute strength. Now your eyes were on his blank features, and you couldn’t help but give him a smirk.

_____________

It wasn’t often that you lit the fireplace as to avoid any attention from outsiders, especially authorities who had honestly given up on the search for Michael despite his former psychiatrist’s demands, but you believed that tonight was just the night for a warm fire.

Despite the cold weather, you only wore one of Michael’s shirts with socks, perhaps a little something on your bottom. You figured that there wasn’t an entire need for covering yourself when Michael was your human blanket, and one that refused to come off you.

With all of the day’s work done, you sat on the couch, or more like Michael’s lap as he sat on the couch. Your legs were crossed as your torso was constricted by Michael’s strong arms, his chin casually laying on top of your head as you ate the last of your pumpkin soup.

Both pairs of eyes stared up ahead, almost next to the fireplace where your TV screen was placed. You were both watching the moving pictures, or at least Michael resumed that when you made comments about the movie.

“That’s so cheesy, no girl would scream and faint on the spot if she saw a monster.” you ever so slightly shook your head, Michael’s chin too heavy to actually complete the motion. “At least, nowadays. However, that looked like that one scene from the latest Child’s Play movie where the guy has a heart attack.”

It was an old monster movie kind of night, your mood demanding it and Michael no doubt being curious. Frankenstein actually seemed to catch his attention.

The man’s eyes glanced down at you as he saw your arms stretch out with your empty bowl, attempting to put it on the coffee table in front of the couch. This of course was quite impossible with Michael holding you back, his grip on you only becoming tighter as you were managing to barely escape his grasp.

“Michael!” you groaned, pulling your head forwards until his arms made a ring around your hips after you were able to snake the top part of your body out.

As you reached out to set the bowl down, you felt Michael bury his face right into your back before rubbing himself all over and taking in your scent simultaneously.

“I just want to put the damn bowl down.” you wheezed, eventually releasing a sigh of relief when your glass bowl safely landed on the table. But it made you also pleased to have grabbed the plate you had prepared along with the bowls of soup, making sure it or its contents didn’t slip out of your hands as you adjusted your body to the former position.

Michael gave a grunt as he placed his chin on your head again, this time making sure that you had no way of escaping him.

“You wanna try one, Michael?” you lifted the plate just a bit, having Michael peer down at the plate that contained black little circles that smelled weirdly to him. “They’re the newest Oreos. The cookies I mentioned earlier.”

You placed the plate on your lap, wishing that that was enough to hold them up while you took one of the cookies and offered it up to Michael.

“I don’t have any milk right now because you’re not gonna let me get any, so take it like this.

Michael squinted at the cookie, the orange filling enough to have him blinking at least once. In this state of his, you were able to break free and spin your body in place so that your legs were no longer crossed but instead on either side of Michaels’ waist. The plate of cookies was safely put on the empty space of the couch so that nothing could fall.

Having a mind of their own, Michael’s hands wrapped themselves around you as he once again stared at the cookie.

“It’s just a cookie Michael.” you giggled, lowering it before taking a bite out of it yourself.

Michael’s eyes landed on your lips, watching the way they moved as you chewed the cookie piece. Tiny black crumbs adorned your lips, every now and then shifting the more you chewed.

You watched him as well, finding it how funny his curiosity was. So, you popped in the remainder of your cookie before eating it as well, now feeling one of Michael’s arms leave your waist.

Instead, his fingers brushed against the warmth of your skin as his nails carefully scraped your cheeks. The tips of his fingers now coming close to your lips, his index finger actually on your bottom lip before it pulled it down and open.

“Michael,” you breathed out, knowing that Michael was merely observing the crumbs left on your lips.

Blinking up at Michael, you saw as he brought his face down to yours. His lips now dangerously close to yours as he continued to play with your bottom lip, making your breath hitch as he neared more and more.

Soon enough you closed your eyes when Michael closed the gasp, but not with his lips but his tongue.

Your eyes shot open as you felt his tongue lick the corner of your lip, continuing onto your lips themselves. You placed your hands on his shoulders, gripping onto them as you felt his own twist around the shirt you wore.

Your lips had already been parted from the shock of Michael’s actions, that good enough for Michael to slip in his tongue to get a taste of your mouth.

He didn’t care about your nails digging into his shoulders but in fact enjoyed it, pressing your chest against his as his tongue continued to explore your cavern, tasting every bit he could. But before you could follow along with his treatment, Michael retreated himself and looked down at you with half-lidded eyes that matched yours. Well, his didn’t have as much emotion as yours for he was difficult to faze of course.

“Michael?” you sighed at him, thoughts clouded with what just happened. You were then snapped out of it when Michael let go of you with one hand, reaching to the side where the plate of cookies was.

He had grabbed another one, bringing up in between your faces and leaving it there for just a moment. Soon after, he brought it to your lips, scraping it against them before slowly slipping it in so that you could take a bite.

As you chewed the cookie, Michael took the other piece into his mouth, leaving the two of you with crumbs on each of your lips.

His tongue slid out once again, licking the crumbs off of his lips before you got the memo.

The flush on your cheeks was more than enough to warm you up on this chilly October night.

#halloween #halloween 1978 #michael myers #michael myers x reader #halloween 2018 #killer x reader

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feralaot · 4 years ago

Text

random scouts hcs!

I did a post like this for the warriors my beloved (here) and people seemed to like it so here's one for the scouts :) had some input from @afrival for this one luv u

no warnings I think

eren

if he had twitter he would have a vaporwave bart simpson profile picture and tweet lil peep lyrics. also uses way too many hashtags

he's scared of snakes and hates armin's ball python

his eyes are probably crusty as hell and mikasa has to wipe em for him because he won't

when he's losing an argument he goes "ooh you wanna kiss me so bad" and it always escalates things but he doesn't stop

almost exclusively wears american eagle

"what's a pronoun".mp3

uses the 💯 emoji in every other text message he sends

armin

sends his friends pictures of cats cuddling/hanging out and says "me n you <3"

genuinely can't stand when people have dirt under their fingernails. he gets so mad at eren bc his nails are dirty asf and armin forces him to clean them

he calls himself sexy a lot (e.g. "that was really sexy of me")

chews on bottle caps then is like hmm why do my teeth hurt

he hates feet. toes look weird to him. nobody in his house is allowed to take their socks off

unironically uses faces like ^-^ and :3

acne :(

mikasa

she's really bad at giving advice. don't go to her for help she'll literally be like "that's tough"

probably has like 4 instagram accounts made just to follow eren

solid black profile picture and no bio

maybe now and then she'll put a my chemical romance quote on her story but that's about it, she doesn't respond to dms or anything

doesn't wash that damn scarf so it's probably stinky

sticks staples, pins, etc through the tips of her fingers for no reason other than she likes freaking people out

probably hisses at people

jean

the only possible relationship dynamic somebody can have with him is rivals to lovers

very short social fuse and has to stay home for several days after public events bc it's just exhausting

he's an introvert adopted by extroverts (connie and sasha) and has to deal with their shenanigans. truly the mom figure between the three of them

marco has to listen to him ranting about connie and sasha's foolery and doesn't have much advice to offer bc he doesn't know either

for a long time he only knew "straight" and "gay" and when he found out about the concept of bisexuality his mind almost imploded

he sighs and yawns a lot and doesn't even realize he does it. people always think he's either annoyed or tired

probably dresses like a diet e-boy. crewneck king

connie

the kind of kid in your high school gym class that wears mismatching neon clothes. bonus points if it's nike

also the most likely to start a food fight for funsies

he doesn't yell often because his voice cracks when he does and it's embarrassing

sasha and him hate cafeteria food so he always brings an ungodly amount of food in his backpack instead to share with sasha. connie's backpack is 90% food

unironically says things like "pogchamp" and "rad"

he works at zumiez and probably lives there. always rocking their latest drip

jumps up and slaps exit signs

sasha

randomly breaks into song (usually disney songs) and connie will automatically duet

manages to fall asleep in any situation. on buses, while watching movies, sometimes even mid conversation if she's zoned out enough

tried to take armin fishing one time but he almost cried because he felt so bad about it

at least reiner will fish with her though. the himbos always come through

her instagram is all pictures of fish she caught and now and then there's an awkward candid pic of niccolo

stayed overnight in a walmart one time and got away and brags about it but she won't admit it was an accident. panicked and spent the night eating snacks off the shelves to "survive"

while she's talking her voice slowly gets louder and louder and she doesn't realize it until people tell her to stop yelling

historia

pulls people by the ears to bring them down to her level

also kicks people in the shins a lot, if she's arguing with someone they'll usually keep their distance to avoid getting shin kicked

loves climbing on ymir's back and just being carried around like the little creature she is

posts inspirational quotes on her story

would definitely be a cheerleader in high school. nobody would guess a prep like her is dating some grunge girl w a pretty much opposite personality

she always has bandaids with her for some reason. if someone gets scraped she'll whip out a bandaid immediately. her friends call her "mom" sometimes

hates grilled cheese so god damn much. can't stand it

ymir

"damn I don't remember asking".mp3

is always the first one to comment on historia's instagram posts. her comments range from "beautiful my queen!!!" to "damn ma yo ass fat"

she always called reiner gay as a joke then he came out as gay and for a while she thought it was her fault

her and reiner have wlw and mlm solidarity, they're bffs for that matter

if someone tells her that her music is too loud she'll say "huh?" and turn it up

similarly if someone scolds her for something she'll go "hm? repeat that, I'm a little deaf in this ear"

"bro stfu you always tell me you're gonna fire me for being late"

levi

really really hates cooking pasta because straining the water is for some reason more difficult than it should be

"do not underestimate me, bitches"

always refuses to get his hair cut at places in shopping centers. especially walmart great clips

makes monkey noises when he sees something he likes. he started doing this as a joke to mock zeke but it evolved and now he can't stop doing it randomly

will not hesitate to knock someone on their ass if they're talking shit

coffee makes him jittery so he drinks tea instead but won't admit to anyone that he lowkey also has a redbull addiction

hange calls him a catboy but he doesn't know what that means so he's always like "yeah" bc he thinks it means he's a cat person

hange

buys levi shoes from the kids section and doesnt tell him bc he likes them anyway

such a millennial, they say shit like "doggo" and "adulting"

"for practical reasons I don't exist. do not perceive me"

probably wants to marry mothman

levi has had to scold them on several different occasions for bringing live animals into the house

legally isn't allowed to cook bc they can and they will blow something up

goes on tipsy rants almost nightly

erwin

white skechers king

hosts barbecues in those white skechers. he talks shit about people with nile and pyxis like a bunch of gossiping middle aged fath- wait

his profile pictures on social media are probably pictures of himself taken from awkward angles with an empty expression. it's always posted like six times as well

when levi is getting Out Of Hand he'll pick him up from under the arms and carry him away like "okay, that's enough" and levi kicks around but can't escape

rubs his hands together a lot like a fly. nobody knows why he does it. what are you scheming

falls asleep on couches while watching sports games

[swinging his keys around his finger] "let's rock and roll"

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rwhague · 4 years ago

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Schizophrenia for Writers

Schizophrenia is probably the most well-known illness, as in most have heard about it, but do people really know what it looks like? Probably the best image brought up by the population is a homeless person walking around in circles talking to the air. It can be startling to encounter someone in the middle of an episode like that. Schizophrenics have a tendency to be more aggressive and hostile than the general population. But after working with several schizophrenics, I have less fear and more sadness for those suffering with this debilitating illness.

I was initially going to crack open my textbook like usual and tell you all the ‘official’ things about schizophrenia, but I’m going to put that off until next week. Instead, I’m going to tell you what I’ve seen from my nursing practice.

My first up-close encounter with schizophrenia in the clinical setting was with Mary*. Mary was a well-known frequent flier of the psychiatric institute I was completing my nursing clinical hours in. I was given Mary’s file to read then sent to speak with her for an hour. Since my previous vision of schizophrenia was of homeless people walking talking to the air, I was quite nervous about even approaching Mary, let alone sitting in the drab stone-walled courtyard on a bench and chatting.

Mary, however, acknowledged me with a courteous nod. She never smiled at me, but she was never hostile or aggressive toward me. Instead, she talked about her life as I would expect anyone too, with earnestness about her life experiences. She had no verbal slurring or strange repetition of words. I could have walked up to this woman at Walmart and never known she was schizophrenic.

Mary told me all about her conniving sister who was hell-bent on destroying her life. If Mary had a chance at getting a job, her sister would call the manager and convince him not to hire her. When Mary tried to move away, her sister followed her to the next state over and continued to keep her under her thumb. Even while she was being institutionalized, her sister was stealing her social security check and paying the people inside to watch her. And the people here—oh she’d tell you about them. Everything you ate or drank was laced in parasites that would eat you from the inside out. The pills were laced too, which was why she was refusing to take hers.

Of course, very little of this (if any) was true. But Mary believed it was. Because everyone was out to get her, she had no hope of securing a good job, good employment, or establishing any lasting relationships in her life.

The next week, I met Todd*, a 20-year-old schizophrenic who, per the staff, had been practically abandoned in the institution by his family. Todd was heavily medicated when I met him. His posture was stooped, his speech was slurred, and his reaction time was comically slow. I asked him about his life, and my heart broke. Todd had accepted his diagnosis and knew he was mentally ill, but with this knowledge came the fact he would never be able to have a family or a real relationship of any kind. Or have sex. When he said this last part, he slapped his hand over his mouth—with exaggerated slowness due to the meds. It would have been funny had it not been sad and possibly true. He drew me a picture before I left. The drawing was the skill of a 3rd grader in markers. I still have it.

Then we have Johnnie*. Johnnie was a patient of mine at the hospital. He came in for a bacterial gut infection which we treated in half a week, but while he was in our care, the psychiatric hospital discharged him. Getting an empty bed in a psychiatric hospital is nearly impossible, but Johnnie was so unwell we could not discharge him to the streets either.

Hospitals are not designed for long-term care of anyone, especially psych patients. Johnnie would walk down the hall outside his room and bang his head against the walls. Because of this, he was forced to stay in his room the whole time. Johnnie would scream and wail so loud you could hear him throughout the whole floor. Patients would complain, but what could we do? He would try to hit nurses and fight. He jammed his hand into his mouth and bit until it drew blood. We tried to place him in an institution somewhere—anywhere, but no one would take him. I don’t know how many combinations of medications we tried, but we couldn’t find the right balance to keep him calm. So what was the solution?

Johnnie was tied to his bed. Still screaming, still fighting. His wrists became sores from pulling against the restraints. He stayed in the hospital like that for a month.

Johnnie was pretty much non-communicative, but we can imagine his thoughts knowing how Mary thought. He thought we were trying to kill him, so we tied him to a bed. That helped.

Johnnie was just a little older than Todd. Similar dreams, similar hopes—like all of us, but this was his life. Terrified, trapped, and being harmed by the people who should be helping him.

Our system is broken.

And so is our view of mental illness. Yes, schizophrenics commit violent crimes more often than the general population, but they are victims of crimes more often too. What if someone raped Mary? She could report it, but would anyone believe her? What if someone beat up Todd? He could report it, but would someone think it was self-inflicted?

I don’t know what to do about our broken system. But I do know, as writers, we have a responsibility to portray characters accurately. So, think on this before you write a schizophrenic character. Are they flat and cartoon-like? Or do they have hopes, loves, and broken dreams as well?

*names changed

#writing #writer #writersblog #writingtips #writingadvice #schizophrenia #mentalillness #mentalhealth #mentalhealthawareness #mentalhealthinwriting #mentalhealthinfiction #fiction #literature #characterdevelopment #author #authorblog #write #authorlife #writerslife

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woodsteingirl · 3 years ago

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A case in suburbia, domestic dynamics, and a forever home. What could go wrong?

the moment i’ve been waiting for! chapter one is up now! read here or under the cut.

Cas and Dean were searching for a forever house. They had been pretty much since Cas got back from the empty. They were ready to distance themselves from hunting. Dean had always wanted a sort of suburban, white picket fence life, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone. And since he already admitted how he truly felt to Cas, why not throw his need for a domestic lifestyle into the mix. Cas was all for it. Ever since Jack had given up most of his powers to Amara, thus causing her to take his place as God and him almost human, Cas had been hoping for a place to raise him like a normal child. The bunker was great for hunting and a place for Cas, Dean, and Sam, but not so much for raising a 5-year-old kid.

House hunting had been a burden to bear, but they were making out alright. Up till this, they’d looked at about 3 other houses. They were all a no for different reasons. The first one Cas decided was in a school district that wouldn’t be good for Jack, the second didn’t have a big enough garage or backyard, and the third didn’t have enough bedrooms for all of their family to stay. With the whole credit card scam they’d been running for as long as they remember, budget wasn’t really a problem, but they didn’t want something extravagant.

There it was, 538 Chapel Street in Pine River Crossings. It wasn’t too far out of Lawrence, only a few hours' drive, and all the houses looked nice. Very cookie cutter, but that was sort of the appeal. They couldn’t guarantee that they would fit in with the traditional, upper middle-class people, but what the hell, if they could kill god they could take suburbia.

A few days passed, and they were set up to look at the home. They drove the hour and a half to the next medium-sized town with the belief in their minds that this was the one. It had all they needed, a two-car garage, a respectable school district, and two guest bedrooms. They were so caught up in this concept they made the mistake of not checking the news for the nearby areas. Once they arrived, a realtor who showed them around the dwelling greeted them. It was all they could ask for and more practically too good to be true, especially for people like them. The actual presentation of the house went over without too many problems. The person exhibiting the residence commented on how it had been on display for almost a month now, which was the first red flag. A house as nice as this, in a densely populated area, would usually not be on the market for that long in weeks unless there was some hidden con.

They signed on it not a day after seeing the house in person. It was all set up and they could officially start moving stuff in the next week. They officially shared the good news with everyone the day after they signed. Sam was beyond happy for them. Not only would he finally have a space to himself, he was proud of his brother for living the life he’d always wanted. Jack was thrilled that he would get to go to actual school and have friends that were his age and not cosmic entities. In the meantime, Cas did more research into the neighborhood. There was their hidden con. The newspaper Cas had pulled up on his phone said, “Local Couple Murdered in Own Home.”

“Dean, look at this.”

Okay, that was a setback. A murderer on the loose in the neighborhood they were moving into was not exactly what he had planned, but he had delt with worse. “Alright, that could be a problem.”

“I think it’s a little bigger than a problem,” Cas retorted.

“Is it our type of thing or just something local law enforcement could deal with?”

Cas read on in the article, “the couple was stabbed, there was no sign of forced entry, neighbors reported nothing amiss besides lights flickering before the murder. The weapon, as well as the perpetrator, was never found. No official suspects have been labeled, everyone has seemed to have an alibi.”

“It definitely sounds like our thing. Lights flickering, no breaking and entering, and all.”

They decided they could pose as residents, as it seemed perfectly normal for the newcomers to be concerned about the literal murderer on the loose. Since Cas was newly human, and Jack was, well, 5, Dean thought they might need outside help. Being out of practice to spend more time with your husband and child really had its fallbacks. Sam was off the table as backup. He was out of town and Dean didn't want to interrupt his first weekend without him in god knows how long. Plus, they needed someone who wouldn't draw too much attention to their family dynamic.

“Hey, Cas, what do you think about calling in Claire to help us with this one? You think she’d do it?”

“Calling her in for help is a good idea, whether or not shed actually do it is another question.”

“I’ll call and ask, and if she wants to help, and if not then I can think of something else.”

He kept his promise and called Claire not an hour later. He decided it might be best not to tell her it was undercover work, or that it was taking place in a white picket fence neighborhood, as that might turn her off from it almost immediately.

“Hey Claire, its been too long since we’ve talked,” he started.

“Hi Dean. what do you want, there’s no way you’re just calling to catch up if you’re starting with ‘its been too long.’”

“You got me there. I was just wondering if you wanted to come with me and Cas on a hunt. Its not too far from the bunker and we’d have you back home in a week.”

“Sure, that works. When do we start?” She hadnt seen Dean and Cas since they rescued Cas. That was over a month ago, she’d been meaning to visit, but she’d been so busy with hunting, and getting to know Kaia again now that she was finally back. This seemed like a perfect opportunity to reconnect and not miss out on anything too big back at home.

“If you could come down here by Wednesday, that’d be great.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” She was tempted to sign off with an ‘I love you’ but she was never a lovey-dovey person in that way.

On tuesday she promised Jody she’d be extra careful and would be back in under a week. Kaia told her to make sure to call every day and update her on what was happening. Claire agreed, promising to keep in touch. She spent the rest of the day driving down to Kansas.

Back on Dean and Cas’s end, they were trying to get the house set up for 4 people when they had no furniture prior to this. Cas had always loved furniture shopping even before he had a use for it. When he worked at the Gas-and-Sip, he would browse the home improvement magazines in his spare time. Dean was pretty much the opposite. He had never had reason to care for it, so he didn't. Maybe his hatred for Swedish furniture was rooted in his deep-seated commitment issues. It didn't matter much why he hated it, he just left most of the choices up to Cas. there was then the issue of appliances and such you couldn't find in a furniture store. That was left up to him. Cas sent him out to Walmart to get things for the kitchen. That was something he could do. He picked out a mixer, some silverware, and a pioneer woman kitchenware set. It came with pots and pans, mixing bowls, and a few normal sized plates. That was enough for him to consider it an absolute steal. He brought his finds home to the bunker, setting them on the table designated for things that were to go in the new house. Jack was sitting on Cas’s lap, pointing at things on the computer.

“What’re you guys finding?” Dean asked, hovering behind Cas’s shoulder.

“Djungelskog!” Jack exclaimed, showing Dean a photo of a large stuffed brown bear.

“I thought you were looking for furniture?” Dean directed the question more at Cas, but he was still looking at Jack.

“We are. Jack just got us a bit sidetracked. We found the majority of what we need. Among other things not of as grave importance.”

Dean looked over the shopping cart and then gave the go ahead. Not before adding the stuffed bear to the cart, though.

The next day Claire arrived. Everyone was thrilled to see her. Jack ran up and threw himself around one of her legs and Cas gave her an awkward dad side hug. Dean wondered when he would tell her what the hunt would actually consist of, but he didn't want to interrupt the moment.

A few hours later, Dean fixed everyone a real dinner and had them sit down at the kitchen table. The realization dawned on him that this was going to be his last sit down meal officially living in the bunker. Everyone sort of just sat in silence for a beat. Perhaps reflecting on their own lasts of officially living there. “Claire, I sorta forgot to add this when I called you, but the case is a lot of undercover work. Also its in a suburban area.”

“And why didn't you tell me this sooner?”

“Well to speak freely, I wanted you on this case and I was worried it would make you not want to come.”

“It almost does, but i'm already here now, and i wouldn't want to waste a days driving on something i'm not actually going to do.” She guessed this would probably take longer than a week. “And i'm guessing this isn't just something you decided to do out of the goodness of your hearts?”

“We bought a house in the area, and we just wanted to make sure it was safe,” Cas explained.

“Hang on, you bought a house for real and you didnt even think to tell me? You didn't think that that was valuable information?”

“It didn't come up in our phone call,” Dean said.

“And? That’s no excuse to leave your daughter out of major life events!” The ‘daughter’ part just sort of came out without her noticing, but seconds after she said it she regretted it. God, how embarrassing.

“You’re right. We should’ve told you sooner. It was kind of a recent decision, though, so you haven’t been out of the loop for too long,” Cas said.

The next day was moving day. Dean loaded the appliances into the back of Claire’s car, since the back of the Impala was already full. Claire took her own car, while Dean, Cas, and Jack rode in Baby. Their real furniture was being delivered as they spoke. Cas offered to ride with Claire, but she assured him she’d be fine by herself. The drive wasn’t even that long, especially compared to the distance she drove yesterday.

Dean was silently nervous. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but it was written all over his face. His first real stable house, with the man he loved, and his two kids, he could only hope that he didn’t mess it up. Cas put a hand on his shoulder showing he saw how Dean was feeling.

They turned onto Chapel Street and pulled up into the driveway of the house. It somehow looked bigger and more daunting than it had during the walkthrough. Claire arrived almost ten minutes later. Everyone just sort of paused in front of the house for a minute, reveling in the stability most of them had never had.

#pspspsps you want to reblog my hard work sooo bad #supernatural #spn #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural fic #samael speaks #sammy sires

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readingonpluto · 4 years ago

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To Me, You are Perfect - Nessian Modern AU

Part 1

@madie-max & @sjm-things hope you enjoy :)

What kind of movies do you like?

My phone buzzes beside me, startling me up from my book. Ever since Cassian came, I moved downstairs to my small living room. I told myself that it was because he called me out for sitting in my room all night, but I really knew it was because I was closer to the door here.

Picking up my phone, I frowned down at the message.

Who is this?

Cassian. I was there about half an hour ago?

How did you get my number?

Feyre.

I scowl. Of course, my sister would give out my number and address to a man I had met once before. At least it was someone she trusted… But still…

What do you want?

Read above, sweetheart

What kind of movies do I like?

Why the hell do you need to know that?

Its a surprise ;)

Great… Another surprise on my peaceful night. I would be lying though if I said my heart didn’t skip a little…

I like romance.

Couldn’t have guessed!

You’re the one who asked.

I don’t get a reply.

All I wanted to do tonight was read, but now every time I look at the pages my mind wanders back to Cassian. How much do I really know of him? Yes, he showed up at my doorstep in the middle of the night and now is texting me about movies. And yes, he was at Feyre’s wedding, but truly, I know nothing about him.

He is Rhysand’s best friend and close to Feyre. He must be slightly insane. He danced at her wedding in the most ridiculous fashion. He tried to talk to me, but I brushed him off. He was never pushy, but very flirty. He ate a lot of food.

I stare down at my fingers. That’s it. That is all I know about him.

And I’m still hoping he comes back… What is wrong with me?

Maybe I’m too deprived of love that I will do anything at this point. Both of my younger sisters are in happy relationships, and one is already married, and where am I?

However, Cassian isn’t truly a stranger… I asked about him at Feyre’s wedding, curious who he was. He danced with the children doing anything to make them smile, even letting them dance on his feet. He looked so joyous bringing happiness to all those around him. Then, when he saw how miserable I was, he tried his best to make me feel that same joy. I was an idiot to brush him off. Maybe I would have had a better night if I let him--

The doorbell rings.

I spring up faster than I’d like to admit, padding over to the door. I don’t swing it open with as much force as the first time already anticipating who will be standing there.

Cassian grins down at me, a bag in his hand. “Hello again.”

“Hello,” I stare down my nose at him, pushing away any feelings that had be building. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know anything about him.

“Okay, this whole plan is based around the fact that I’m assuming you have a TV and a disk player. Please tell me you have both of those.”

“I do…” I say, curiosity overtaking everything else. I can tell he is waiting for me to ask, do I just go for it. “Why?”

“I’m glad you asked,” His smile only grows. “I just have so happened to go down to a Walmart and happened across Love Actually and some popcorn and chocolates.”

“Happened across?” I suppress the smile that tries to push my way across.

“Yes, you see there is a very beautiful woman who likes romance movies who was waiting for me to come back and I tried my best to be as quick as I could. These,” He holds up the bag. “Are the best I could do.”

Beautiful woman. I push away the words.

“So you want me to just let you into my house? A person I just met.”

“No, I want you to invite me in since we’re not strangers.”

“What if I don’t invite you in?”

He shrugs. “I guess I’ll head home and watch Love Actually on my own.”

“You would leave?”

He laughs at my question. “I’m not here to break into your house, sweetheart.”

“Just to watch a movie and eat snacks?”

“And make sure you have a good night.” Just like at Feyre’s wedding. But you pushed him away… And now we’re here, with you regretting that decision every moment since.

I open the door wider, looking down at the floor.

“You’re letting me in?” He seems surprised. Did he really go through all that trouble to expect me to not let him in?

“Yes.” My voice holds venom, years of building walls. “I can slam the door back in your face if you’d prefer.”

“No, no,” Cassian walks in before I can do just that. “I just wanted to make sure.”

Clicking the door closed I don’t wait for him to take off his coat and boots, just heading straight to where I was sitting before. I haven’t touched the macaroons yet too nervous to eat. To be honest, I have just been staring at the wall for most of the time since he has been gone.

“Nice house,” Cassian says, coming into the room. He is wearing a grey knitted sweater and dark jeans. He has little llamas on his socks. Something so simple, yet he pulls it off. It almost makes me smile to think that he has a whole drawer of fun socks to wear on miserable days. I wonder if he was wearing such socks on the day of the wedding…?

“Nesta?” I realize he had been asking me something.

“Yeah?” I ask, blinking a few times.

“I asked if it was alright if I set up the movie.” A small smile forms on his lips, causing my face to flush. I look away quickly.

“Yeah.” He moves to do so and I stand, picking up the small bag he brought with him. “I’ll put them in bowls,” I explain, heading straight for my kitchen.

What is wrong with me? How can a man I’ve met twice make me feel like I’m floating on a cloud? Elain always talks about love at first sight, but that never really happens… does it?

“Sweetheart?” Cassian pokes his head in the kitchen, quickly noting that I have done nothing but stand here for the last five minutes. “I got the movie ready.”

Nodding, I quickly pull down a bowl pouring the popcorn into it, then moving onto the chocolates but pausing just as quickly.

I turn to Cassian to find him smiling at me, his eyes soft.

“How…?” I don’t have to finish. How did you know these were my favourite?

“Elain. I texted her and asked.”

“Why?” Why go through all that trouble?

“So I knew your favourite. I thought it might be good knowledge to know, especially for tonight.”

I can’t bring myself to say thank you. Thank you didn’t cover it.

Nodding once more, I handed him the bowl, taking the chocolates for myself, and headed back to the room. The title music was humming softly from the television but I made no move to sit down.

“Something wrong?” Cassian asks from behind me.

I turn to him slowly. “Why are you really here?”

A look of confusion crosses his face. “What do you mean?”

“Did Feyre put you up to this? Or Elain?”

He blinks. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

I take in a breath, shoving all my emotions down. Suppressed. Like always. “Please, tell me the truth.” My voice breaks on the word. I didn’t want to ask, but there has to be a reason for why he is here. No one in their right mind would try to get to know me of their own free will. I have been told as much on countless occasions.

“I am telling you the truth.”

“The whole truth.” I snap, it comes out harsher than I want it. But then again, so does everything.

Cassian takes a deep breath. “You want to know why I’m here? It’s because I find you interesting. You’re a hard shell to crack, and I want to know what is behind those walls you put up. At Feyre’s wedding, you hid from me no matter how many times I poked at you, and when your sister told me what you did every Valentine’s day, it broke my heart. No one should be alone if they don’t want to be, so I came down to make sure you didn’t want to be alone.”

“What if I do want to be alone?” I can’t look at him.

“Then I’ll leave. I told you so. If you don’t want me to be here, I will go.”

A beat. Two. Three. Five. Ten.

“I don’t want to be alone,” I say quietly.

Cassian gestures to the couch. “Then by all means.”

The movie goes by in silence. We sit close, but not too close, eyes glued to the screen. I can’t focus on the movie, too afraid that I’ve messed everything up. I don’t dare look over at him for fear of seeing boredom written across his face.

The one chance I have at something, even if it is just friendship, and I mess it all up. Typical.

Credits roll, and I don’t know if I have been breathing.

Cassian stretches and turns to me on the couch. “It’s getting late.”

“Do you want to head home?” I ask, trying to sound if that doesn’t bother me.

“I have work in the morning.” His tone is apologetic.

“Then I won’t keep you.” I stand, walking to the door, wrapping myself in my arms. Cassian follows, slowly putting on his boots and coat.

“Well… Guess this is goodbye.”

“Don’t be dramatic, you have my number.”

His smile returns. “Do you want me to text you?”

I look away. “I don’t care either way.” Lie. I do care. I want him to text me.

“Then I will. Tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

I can feel his smile as he opens the door, stepping out into the cool night. “Goodnight, Nesta.”

“Goodnight,” I say flatly. But he doesn’t move, still standing in my doorway so I can’t close the door. When I look up to ask him what the hell he is doing, he captures my lips with his own. They are soft and warm and being pulled away too quickly for my liking.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He says softly, turning to leave.

“You better.”

He stops, spinning on his heel to face me. “I better?”

“After what you just pulled, yeah.”

Cassian grins, stalking back towards me. “After what I just pulled?”

“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?”

“Maybe.”

I scowl. “Goodnight, Cassian.” The door closes with a bang and a click as I lock it. I wonder if that is how I will always leave him.

Goodnight, Sweetheart. My phone pings. I’ll make sure to fulfill your wishes tomorrow.

Bastard. I write back. But I can’t help the smile that crosses my lips at the promises and hope that tomorrow will bring.

#nessian #nessian fanfic #i love love actually so much #it is such a great movie #nesta archeron #cassian #this story was originally only supposed to be one part #and i wrote it so long ago #but you know what #i like how this turned out #thanks for reading #fanfic

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dog-day-morning · 3 years ago

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The word of God tells us we shall suffer for the cause of Christ, he who seeks a greater reward must attain a greater faith. Unto whom much is given that much more is required. You wanna eat that whole caramel cake, you crave that sweet tea, you pursue that woman in a nightclub hoping to get her in a compromised position, face down tail up because face it, we're not willing to bow down to the will of God, but we’re so happy, and ready to give in to that round mound of doo doo brown. The 3 Hebrew boys Meshach, Shadrach, and Abednego went into the fiery furnace defying Nebuchadnezzar's declaration to worship him. These men had the inspiration, strength, and courage to say, even if He doesn't deliver us, we know that He can. That kind of faith is called perfected faith. We can be lazy because we refuse to work with what God gave us before the day of calamity comes to devour us. Tribulation is kicking into high gear, and many of God’s people are none the wiser. There are people who were working 3 jobs before, and after this pandemic became a global concern who know what is on the horizon. You don't need an Issachar spirit to discern the times; read the Bible. He also said to the crowds, “When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming.’ And so it happens. And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,’ and it happens. You hypocrites! You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time? The gov't has pulled back on unemployment benefits forcing many to find a job. The 2 righteous servants in the parable of the 3 servants increased the wealth of their employer who trusted 3 men with different amounts of talents [money], and the 1 who didn't work diligently for his master inherited weeping, and gnashing of teeth. God invested in us, and He expected a greater return from this major investment. Jesus was the greatest financial venture ever made. The Father placed His faith in His Son who in turn gave Him many more sons that walk amongst us waiting for the Day of Judgment. This investment which supersedes all, but are intertwined will never decrease, and forever increase. The 144,000 isn't a spiritually inspired interpretation based on mine, and Mima getting the Holy Ghost or having an encounter with the Holy Spirit to speak in tongues. Sit down grandma, your Depends are leaking brown stuff that reeks of formaldehyde, and raw chitlins. God is looking for a righteous Nation to worship Him not themselves. These men, and boys who represent the 12 tribes of Israel have never been defiled by women, and hopefully not by men either. You lucky mother You can take the word literally or as a misinterpretation. Those who don't believe in the written word who believe that God's word isn't infallible aren't all to blame for this heresy. Those who originally interpreted the King James Bible added to, and took from are suffering for a misleading interpretation. The prophetic which God didn't let man corrupt altogether has pretty much played out verbatim. We may be dying to a world that is trying to kill our faith that God has no intention of doing until He finds His true worshippers, and He’ll never destroy one's faith in Him. Winter is coming and you and I must be prepared. We must live like today is our last without being caught up in fear. I'm suffering from a form of laziness called jackass. God shall supply all your needs, but faith without works is dead. The ant has the intuition to work throughout the Summer knowing that Winter is coming. A lot of these drones won't live to see the finished product. Ant mounds look like the Pyramids of Giza that secure the Queen, but where is the King? They serve the one who gives life that sustains the colony, she is their goddess, but what happens if the Queen dies? There's more than one Queen serving the colony who can breed an entire colony independent of one other. fulfilling their role while working together in unison with the others who all serve a greater purpose. This

is a major element that drives the Kingdome of heaven. Christ is just like His Father In the Kingdome that includes the Holy Spirit which they will pour upon all flesh again soon. There are no cowards or sinners in the Kingdome. The angels are not as drones, they are blessed warriors.

Revelation 21:8

8 But the fearful, and unbelieving, and the abominable, and murderers, and whoremongers, and sorcerers, and idolaters, and all liars, shall have their part in the lake which burneth with fire and brimstone: which is the second death.

1 Corinthians 6:8-10

8 Nay, ye do wrong, and defraud, and that your brethren.

9 Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind,

10 Nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.

Alkebulan we need to wake up and get right. Black American's of the tribes of Judah, Gad, Reuben, and Issachar you need to aim at my forehead, and scatter my scatter brained grey matter all over the pavement. When Joe Biden told a radio podcaster if you don't vote for me you're not Black, he must be color blind. This vaccine that suspiciously looks like the Mark of Whodunnit. They can plant a microchip in your arm that can track your every move, financial transaction, and possibly your dreams while you sleep. Some Walmart stores are refusing to take cash when you check out; they only take debit, and credit cards. These are signs that we’re living in the End Times. The Last Days. I'm looking at this as a sign to get the hell outta this city, and decompose. What in God's name am I afraid of? Jesus took a beat down like a man on a mission.. You're not weak or simping if you gave your life for a people you fed, healed, gave sight to, preached to, taught them a new way to live, pray, love, told them about a Kingdome greater than Jerusalem, and you didn't kill anybody in the process knowing what they were going to do to your physical body in an almost retarded like bid to destroy their salvation. I've done none of that; my bad. Stop looking for men, especially zaddy to deliver us. “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” Some of us foolheartedly called Bill Clinton the first Black president when he's not, never can, or will be to me in any sense, Barack wasn't either. Thomas Jefferson, the third elected president, who served two terms between 1801 and 1809 was described as the “son of a half-breed Indian squaw (Black) and a Virginia mulatto father (Black).” Abraham Lincoln, the nation’s 16th president, served between 1861, and 1865. Lincoln had very dark skin, and coarse hair and his mother allegedly came from an Ethiopian tribe. His heritage fueled so much controversy that Lincoln was nicknamed “Abraham Africanus the First” by his presidential opponents and cartoons were drawn depicting him as a Negro. Warren Harding, Calvin Coolidge, Dwight David Eisenhower, and the scourge of the South Andrew Jackson were all n**gahs. I’ll see you come Hanukkah you self-hating black, Uncle Ruckus’s. I don't celebrate Thanksgiving, why should I be overjoyed about the genocide, and enslavement of God's people? Christmas is what it is. Hopefully you will celebrate this holiday season together fulfilling God's prophetic word. I can't unless you kill me. The Christmas holiday is as pagan as Joel Osteen is at scamming. David Duke, you might wanna go to ancestry.com, and take a DNA test. You might be 30% Swahili. By the looks of those big, gorilla nostrals you had before that rhinoplasty. You, and Bull Connor may be related to Idi Amin. Your biggest shame is your greatest blessing. Personally you can kiss the skid marks in the middle of my skid marks after I take a fresh dump. Conservative, political pundits, and wannabes whose names I won't mention, but one in particular who looks like he smoked 23 blunts in 15min. with no filter. Please keep him in California, and let him drown with his zaddy, and pancaked tail, bowed hipped women. Use your lips as a floatation device dude. These people are ashamed of the God who has blessed many, and plenty. These people suffer, hopefully not always, from the white savior or white zaddy complex. The truth isn't in any of them, that's why they're so adept at lying when making bold-faced statements before the public that opposes their previous opinion like people don’t have YouTube or google. I’ll Bing a factoid or Yahoo that mother to get the truth I may even pay for it, gimme a dollar. My inability to walk amongst men as a man has stagnated my propensity to live That's BS, my Apostle said something this past Sunday that's stuck on my forehead. YOU'RE LAZY!!! I am what I am, a pain in the rear end. This has gone on way too long. Sometimes

I feel as though God wants me to kill myself because the PO PO won’t. I would feel better if my natural family would stab me in the neck, not my back, with a piece of diseased, pork, spare rib from a boar hog, and let me die from a rare form of trichinosis. The people have spoken while I’m playing Jay, and Silent Bob. Father, get me outta here. Elohim, 9/16/2021

#your financial transactions

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tangent101 · 5 years ago

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Perceptions of Wealth with Max Caulfield in Life is Strange

One thing I’ve noticed repeatedly in Life is Strange fanfics (and in occasional commentaries elsewhere) is how people assume Max Caulfield comes from a wealthy family. And while I’ve talked about this in the past, it’s probably about time to mention yet again that Max is in fact from a poor family, and that her parents either live in an apartment complex or in her grandfather’s house.

It’s easy to claim otherwise, especially when you compare Max to Chloe, but when you look a little deeper, the signs are clear that not only is Max poor, but she may in fact be as poor as Chloe. We can start by looking at Max’s clothes. Let’s start by looking at Max’s journal entries on clothes:

My mom cried, and my dad laughed. They're so weird. But they're happy and this means extra financial support because they don't have to pay anything to Blackwell. This means new clothes and if I can work it, a new laptop.

Max’s journal entry for July 10th already lays the groundwork here. She believes that seeing her family doesn’t have to pay for tuition, she can get new clothes and maybe even a new laptop. And to be honest, I actually bought into this... until just now when I saw this August 25th entry as well:

That made me want to cry like a little girl. And never leave Seattle. So instead of packing, I feel like burning all my clothes, then just raiding a thrift store to build up a new Max wardrobe over my junior year. Not that I even have an old Max wardrobe.

First, do note that Max talked about “raiding a thrift store” to build up a wardrobe. Her comment here is so matter-of-fact that the point Max was thinking of going to a thrift store for her clothes slipped past my radar... but as a middle-class woman, I do have to admit that it wasn’t until finances got rather tight that I started buying at thrift stores myself. Given that clothes aren’t tremendously expensive at Walmart and the like (especially if you hit sales) that’s perhaps not surprising. But there are no back-to-school sales for Max mentioned or the like.

In fact, we see no signs that Max got a new wardrobe (and admittedly she doesn’t have a lot of outfits, even accounting for keeping jeans in the bureau). Her laptop also is a fairly small one and may in fact be her old laptop. I cannot recall anything Max says or does that genuinely states that anything Max brings with her is new. (This also is true for alt-Max, seeing alt-Max’s journal states on September 14th “Yes, I'm older and thanks to Vic and Nathan I'm now a bit more fashionable too.” In other words, the nice clothing alt-Max wore were gifts from Victoria and Nathan.)

Max even comments on this when perusing Victoria’s clothes. She comes across some socks that “cost more than my entire wardrobe” and given a nice pair of thigh-high silk stockings can cost $75 or more, this might not have been hyperbole. Given that if you’re very lucky on sales you could probably snag skinny jeans for $8 new, and designer t-shirts for close to that (and let’s not go into the hoodies)... and it becomes most likely Max’s wardrobe, with (as Chloe puts it) “chlorine brand [T-shirts] and generic jeans” is cheap used clothing.

Hell, even Chloe’s clothing is in better shape. Despite the fact Chloe’s “poorer” than Max, her clothes look much less shabby and worn. Her ripped jeans look designer. Her shirts are likewise in good shape, with any “damage” being strategic and done for looks. Admittedly, Chloe may prefer certain outfits over others, and thus the lack of wear is Chloe not wearing most of her outfits all the time... but if you put Max and Chloe side-by-side (without Max’s camera evident) and ask which girl is from a wealthier family... and people would probably think Chloe is.

This also helps explain why Max never visited her best friend even in the summer despite living six hours away. If Max’s parents lived paycheck to paycheck then the cost of fueling up a car to drive Max to Arcadia Bay would be painful. (I say this as someone who once had to put her last two dollars in her car so to have just enough gas to last a week, back when that would buy two gallons of gas.) Max didn’t fall out of touch because of stressing out over William or being a bad friend. Max probably didn’t have a cell phone for the first year she lived in Seattle.

Again. Max and her parents moved to Seattle in the middle of the Great Recession. Yes, that was 11 years back but a lot of people lost their homes. Some of those who become financially destitute never recovered, even today. Others were forced to move in with parents. So if Max is living in a house, it belongs to her grandfather. She probably lives in a two-bedroom apartment and one that’s not even in a good part of Seattle. (She most definitely never rubbed elbows with Victoria in Seattle and never met Victoria prior to Blackwell.)

Speaking of Victoria, this gives another reason for Victoria’s harassment of Max and that is classism. Victoria acts like the typical snobby rich girl who sneers at those who struggle financially. Add in that Max has actual talent despite her lack of wealth, and she becomes a prime target for Victoria (along with Kate for her religious upbringing and lack of “shame” over her religiosity).

There’s another aspect of this “economic value” with Max that you might not expect, and that’s behavior. When you’re poor, you tend to become invisible to people wealthier than you. In return, some poor people will try and avoid standing out and drawing attention to them. Max has this in spades. She is a “shy cliched geek” who hides behind a lens rather than interact with a world that judges based on appearances. Well, Max appears as shabby and without value.

She is treated as such by various people as well. And trust me, if Max dressed like Victoria or Juliet, she would not be treated as dismissively. Appearance and behavior are reflections of each other, and we again see this with alt-Max with her nice clothes and more assertive personality, compared to the original Max who feels out of place.

Amusingly enough, as she starts wearing Rachel and Chloe’s clothing she increasingly becomes assertive and willing to take a stand. A good part of this lies with Chloe’s confidence with her, but we the players get to see this as well with Max’s clothes changing and becoming more vibrant.

So, why do people think Max is financially comfortable? I suspect it’s primarily because Max uses an instant camera. I once calculated out the financial value of the Caulfield Photo Wall, and came to over $100. Admittedly, that may have been all of Max’s photos (outside of ones that Chloe or other people had claimed over the years)... but when you also account for however many photos get rejected for not being good enough (and Max rips up several photographs in Life is Strange) and you’re left with the possibility Max has taken probably a thousand dollars’ worth of pictures.

That said? This doesn’t mean Max has spent a thousand dollars on film. Don’t forget, Max starts out with a battered camera that despite the design being extremely sturdy falls apart when it is knocked off a desk. Polaroid Instant Cameras are much sturdier than that, so the only way that camera fell apart that easily is if it had been broken in the past (which would explain why Max knows how to repair the camera). And with Max’s own journal, we know that Max is perfectly willing to buy and utilize previously-owned items.

In all likelihood, Max lucked across an estate sale or yard sale where someone was getting rid of an old camera they didn’t know the value of and all the film with it and Max walked away with $500+ of film and camera for $10 or so. If she bought more film via eBay and was lucky? She could very well be getting more film for only a couple dollars per cartridge of eight shots. It is also noteworthy to state Max doesn’t have a backup camera. She doesn’t have a digital camera on the side for most of her shots. She uses her phone for some pictures but mostly it’s that old beast of a camera that barely is holding together.

There’s another reason why a lot of people just assume Max is from a nice middle-class family and that’s because many gamers are from that setting. Who wants to think of Max as a poor girl who is only attending Blackwell because of a art grant? Especially when you add in shabby clothes that highlight Max’s shy and withdrawn personality... you end up with someone that people can have difficulty connecting with. So it’s understandable people just assume the best for Max. After all, they are Max in the game, and who wants to be poor?

#life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #victoria chase #kate marsh #alt-max caulfield #recession #polaroid instant cameras

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looking4mybambi · 4 years ago

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Alright soo ik bdsm/dominant & submissive relationships have so many gender roles that differ from couple to couple, and how each person partakes in that role as individuals in a relationship are different.

As people we all like different things as well and we all SHOULD know what we like as individuals and in a real COMMITTED goal oriented unbreakable successful dom/sub relationship each person knows everything that their person likes and should naturally forget about knowing his or her own likes because each of you got that on lock and can please there person without them telling you when its needed and how to do it or what they are in the mood for..

I am a dominant. But for me I'm a bit different from most . Growing up as a kid very familiar with poverty, I didn't have very many friends so what attention I got was being laughed at for having such bug feet being so young plus I was the tallest in my class up till the end of middleschool, I had long lanky arms a good bit of baby fat (as ma use to call it) and long legs with goofy ass knees so I hated shorts because back in elementary where the bullying started, I may be wrong about this but I don't think Walmart could carry any and1 basket ball shorts that covered my knees nor could we afford It honestly. The kids would call me things like "jolly green giant, sasquach, big dumb (especially if I had to read out loud.. I'm not a good out loud reader) big retard or just tard.. that line of name-calling cease to exist come my 5th and 6th grade years.. mind u I spent an extra year in 4th grade soo I was just adding more fule t on the fire for my later years.

My mother, a single mom of 2 terrorists that worked her hardest to make sure we had what we needed and by doing so came overtime hours after working solid 12s 5 nights a week so she now worked 7 12s a week to get her ot in and be home in the morning to feed us and get us off to school so she can relax and sleep. Like any exhausted human, if there's something that can help you feel good enough to work 7 days a week and be able to parent with the bare minimum sleep, I think most would consider the option heavly. And then addiction..... sooo yeah more hell in school. Long story short .. I got tortured in school. It subsided in the last 2 years before I quit my jr year. But anywho my friends consisted of band in 5-6 grade football and wrestling in 7-8 -9-10 (injuries wrecked my entire school also didn't help my popularity non. And lastly jrotc my freshman year in high school. And a ton of females did band and jrotc (basically a free period lol) so I got tight with females in school while the dudes bullied the fuck out of me... I learned how to be a gorls best friend, do hair, nails, make up. Whatever I needed to learn I did... then sports was where I learned that most men are pigs weather its in a locker room. Or at home she another huge plus and can relate to females. I learned how to gossip and and learned any and all kinds of things girls like from fat free foods to why yell what those socks that look kinda like jon boats or canoes yaknow the shortest socks and adult human could even wear def entirely to short to even be related to ankle socks and how do yall keep them things on your feet while in shoes?!?! Some welfare witchcraft type shit goin on there ima throw that out there 🤣 hell my moms almost died one day she asked me how her hair looked after she curled the sides of her hair on either cheek but she curled both sides to the insides of her cheeks and I told her teacher try curling them out it would look better and she was stunned that I knew what I was talking about . Long story short I took so much time knowing whT makes yell tick, physically, mentally, stomachally ;p, definitely sexually.

Sooo on to this i watched ole ma get beet on by men my whole life and when I tried to fight em off her ( almost every fight that got physical between my mom and a man) there i was right i. The middle of the action knot knowing what the fuck ima do next i was only 11 so I took moms beating more than once.

I've been beaten on by females, alot... yea big ole me.. absolutely refuses to hit back. and ill die that way.

All these events me me the dominant that I am today... I'm strong and I will fight even if I don't want to. I am a protector. My person will feel safe, I can't take fear away ofcorse but I promise she won't be fearful of me.

I take care of my person idc what she ASKS of me ill do it. My rules are simple.

1.) Don't fuckin lie to me.

2.) Don't fucking cheat on me.

3.) Fuckin communicate

4.) DONT FUCKIN BREAK RULE ONE!

Lol I wear my heart on my sleeve and am a very passionate dom. I love giving my person attention and I love to cuddle up to movies, I'm even a hopeless romantic sometimes and I cook I love cooking honestly.

Im also into all sorts of shit forced play, cnc role play and love me a good brat that likes to play hard to get ;)

Most importantly im a dominant that builds his relationship off honesty, respect, compromise and the glue that most dominant men now phase completely out...

LOVE!❤

Now lady's can I ask a very simple question.. well this if me telling whoever will read it about the kind of man I am ofcorse with a recent pic of me (earlier today) to show that im not a terrible looking man.. soo why am I single?

All this is 1000% honest I absolutely DO NOT LIE. I will not play any sort of spin games with anyone. Lol hope someone enjoys

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i-did · 4 years ago

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I love your hc about kevin being bisexual aromantic and the part about his relationship with thea! I like hows it not just a "they lived happily ever after" situation, it feels more realistic. You also mentioned how you have some ideas for seth? I'd love to hear them!

Yeah! I'm not super into happily ever afters, I men to an extent sure, but for me they're so unrealistic that it pulls me out. I like how in aftg the happily ever after is that neil gets to live and hes with andrew and just has to pay a shit ton of money but we know that doesnt matter to him. Outside of context that doesn't seem very happily ever after, and I like it. It seems achievable and realistic while still romantic.

I think Kevin loves thea and thea loves Kevin, but out of habit and as partners with shared truama more than anything to do with the person themselves. Thea might not even love kevin romantically and he doesn't love her romantically but they don't really know that. And you don't need to know that because you don't need it. They fight and everything and have struggles but don't ever split up imo.

Okay seth ideas:

I have a lot of ideas for seth, I headcanon his mom was Vietnamese and his dad was white. He grew up with a racist dad who instilled toxic masculinity into him especially as an Asian man and then his dad dipped leaving him with insecurity of not being manly enough as well as abandonment issues. His mom worked a lot a lot a lot a lot to keep them afloat, he had a lot of brothers and the hierarchy was enforced with rough housing, the 2 oldest brothers suddenly parents. None of the kids ever got Vietnamese names legally because the dad wouldn't want them to have "funny sounding names" but the mom occasionally called them pet names, seth was hoping after the dad dipped at least their mom would finally be able to teach them more Vietnamese to close the barrier between them, her finally being able to speak in the language she was most comfortable in, but she was too busy and communication was always simple and shallow.

The whole EC deal with seth, the same family who left him giving him bigger abandonment issues etc etc

What seth looks like in my mind:

Obviosly he looks half Vietnamese half white, but he's a skinny lanky guy with a tooth gap he used to stick dumdum lolipop stick in between when he was little, he's got ashy medium brown hair, its dark when grown out but lightens a bit in the sun, he is one of those people with a lot of moles and freckles he got from his father. He used to be the guy who wore fake tapers and skate shoes, basket ball shorts, and a monster energy drink snap back. He starts to just wear tee shirts and jeans and takes out the fake tapers. He's got nobby knees and elbows he bangs on things and he swears everytime.

If Seth Lived:

Him and allison would have broken up a few more times until one really explosive fight and she says "I can't do this anymore" and he says "I know" and she says "I'm not going to leave you" and he says nothing.

She realizes staying friends with your ex was a promise she couldn't quite keep as much as she wanted to. They drift apart. He relapses but this time Kevin finds him. He's out the rest of the season for rehab, getting his degree online and Wymack pleads with them to let him keep scholarship. They cut him off. Wymack pays for what he can before seth can say no, and just drops off a bunch of applications for scholarships and says "I'm not letting you quit." And someone doesn't leave him.

He becomes a social worker. He actually really loves it. He reconnects with 2 out of his ~7 brothers. One of them died and he didn't even know, and he wishes for a second it was him instead, before remembering that they haven't talked in at least 10 years.

He becomes less homophobic but will still say anything to make someone hurt if he hates them, but he becomes less explosive and more worn out. The second hand trauma from being a social worker weighs on him and kne of his coworkers opens up about talking to someone. Their job doesn't cover therapy. He goes to AA and NA meetings. He's not relapsing, but its free therapy and he knows if he feels tempted he could get a sponsor.

He beats the shit out of someone outside one of the meetings who was trying to sell to the people coming out (he runs away and doesn't get caught,)

He goes on a dating website half assed at around 40 years old.

He meets a woman who is also on there half assed. She's very blunt and it reminds him of allison, but she's no frills and they come from the same type of world. He can relate to her and they don't have screaming matches that start with him refusing to take a gift of a 1200 dollar dress shirt when his from Ross is just fine.

5th date in he tells her he's sober and she says "why don't you think we've never gone to a bar?" And he realizes she's sober too.

10th date she says "i know this was fun, but I have a son and I can't be casual anymore. You have to be in or out."

And he thinks about it. And they talk about it. And he says he's in.

Its years of dating until the mom decides its steady enough to meet the son. He's 12 and says "you're not my new dad" and seth laughs, and the kid is confused, because he was trying to say something that would hurt.

His girlfriend becomes his fiance after she gets pregnant, not just because of the baby but because they've been dating for 6 years now and its been serious. Its a miscarriage and its hard, but they get though it.

Seth gets really close with the son even if he came in later into his life, he recognizes a lot of himself in the kid. He's never like a father to the kid, and seth isn't sure he knows what it means to love someone like a son, but he knows its pretty close and he tries to be the opposite of his dad.

They stay lower middle class their whole lives, her working her way up from grocery self stocker job she had at 16 to store manager just over time, him a social worker, in a cheaper town with not a lot to do, but they have a book shelf were they watch movies.

He turns on a game sometimes and quietly thinks to himself "what the fuck" about the one year of college exy he was benched the most possible drama happens. He'll say "I went to college with that kid" and she'll say "who? Scar face? Isn't he like famous or something?" And he'll say "yeah. He is"

She doesn't tell him he has to do anything he doesnt want to do, but she finds out he's been invited to multiple fox reunions where some of the attendees are rich as fuck athletes and says "i want them to pay for my meal" and so they go. They go in their Walmart dress clothes and they don't feel bad, they think rich people are stupid to spend so much when 20$ is enough for a shirt. Their son is in high school and can watch the house by himself.

Seth sticks to Matt, and then remembers that Dan was always more down to earth and his wife loves dan. Doesn't like the others so much besides Wymack and Matt a bit.

Its the only one they go to, but it reminds him to keep up with the man who had helped him out so much and he stays in contact with Wymack. He feels bad for drifting off but they talk. About once every few months, but its more than before.

Okay I'm ending it about here lol

#aftg #all for the game #the foxhole court #tfc #ask #seth gordon #mailob #fig writes

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years ago

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Outside chapter 17: Dinner at Home

New chapter, new plot. Plus got to see a little bit of Danny in this 'verse. :D

And plans are in motion now. What's gonna happen? Stick around to find out.

Stacy sighed as she got into the truck, undoing the professional looking bun her hair was in. Scout popped out of her bag when she set it in the passenger seat, gasping over-dramatically.

"Oh stop that. You're fine." Stacy told her, buckling herself in. She started the car, and got ready to back out of the parking spot.

"Says you! You aren't spending eight hours a day in a fucking bubble!" The puppet flopped out of the bag. "Are we going home yet?"

"No, we've gotta go grocery shopping." Scout groaned and threw one arm over her eyes.

"Aw man. I hate Walmart." She grumbled. "There's always too many kids staring at me."

"It'll be fine. We can go look at movies again before we get the food."

"Okay fine." Scout climbed up the door to look out the window. "But I want Pop Tarts this time! Real ones!"

"I think I can do that." Stacy agreed as she pulled into the parking lot. She reached over and grabbed her wallet before grabbing Scout, letting her settle into the hood of her jacket as they entered the store.

They checked movies, though there was nothing new out yet that they hadn't seen, and then went on to collect the items on Stacy's list. A quick checkout later and they were finally on their way home. It could not have come soon enough for Scout.

The way home from Walmart wasn't too long, maybe a ten minute drive on a bad day. So they got home quick enough, and Scout watched as Stacy started to juggle the many bags. She ended up having to sting them onto her prosthetic in order to get them all into the house, but did succeed in getting all the bags to the kitchen.

Will was downstairs, as he usually was at this time of day. Though, whether he was working on computers or his... hobby, was anyone's guess. Scout certainly wasn't going to go down there to check, either way. Instead she Jumped to her room, which was almost more of a closet with how small it was. But, it held a bed(in her own size!), a charging station for the Switch, and sometimes Stacy's laptop when she could be bothered to drag it in there. The walls were lined with multiple shelves with rope ladders connecting them, giving her a lot of storage space. Most of it was still empty, but she had collected a few things over the past several months.

Including clothes, apparently. Stacy had expressed concern with Scout running around with Mortimer's face on her shirt, and had enlisted Lisa to make her some new ones. Not that Scout could take her "shirt" off, of course, but she could wear other ones over it. Her favorite so far was a green one that said "eat dick and die". It was the best one, no contest, but Stacy wouldn't let her wear it outside the house.

"It's crude, and while I know you love that stuff it's not a good idea to wear that to my job. Someone could go to HR about it." Her Host had told her. Scout thought that was just stupid, but had agreed not to wear it to the workplace.

Stacy, meanwhile, worked on putting groceries away. It was good practice for her arm, especially in not crushing the groceries. She managed to mangle to bread only a little bit this time, and figured she was probably doing better than she usually did. Scout reappeared a moment later, wearing the green shirt Lisa had made her. She handed over the Pop Tarts to the puppet, who immediately tore into the box to grab one of the foil packets.

"It's almost suppertime, so don't eat too many of those." Stacy warned her, only to be met by a muffled grunt in response. She sighed, and just collected the stuff she needed; Kraft macs n cheese, premade burger patties, and some green beans for a vegetable. Maybe not the best dinner, but Will was still working and they needed some food.

As she got the stove going, a pan of water for the mac set up, and the pan for the burgers got oiled. She selected three patties and put the rest back in the freezer for another day while things heated up. The beans she dumped in a third pan on the back of the stove, adding a bit of salt for taste.

Scout watched all of this while softly crunching on the Pop Tarts. Months in the Host World, and she still didn't understand why Stacy wanted to cook. It was much easier and quicker to just grab one of the snacks laying around. Then again, maybe it had to do with that "nutrition" shit Will had told her about once.

As Stacy cooked she started typing out a message to Will on her phone, mostly to let him know dinner was done. He may have been just right in the basement, but she didn't want to go down there if she didn't have to. But as things finished cooking and she started to set the table, Will still hadn't come upstairs or even answered her text. And so, with a sigh, she covered the food and made her way downstairs.

"Will? It's time for dinner." She called as she reached the bottom of the stairs. No answer, but the muffled beat of heavy metal and the high pitched whine of a buzz-saw. She went through the door and was greeted with a mess. A wooden doll was stretched on the exam table in the middle, and Will was standing over it with the buzz-saw, shouting over the pounding music and whining noise.

"Hey, bitch! Make your boyfriend turn it down!" A red haired doll in a welded shut dog crate yelled over the music. She ignored it and instead punched a nearby gong with her metal fist. The resulting metal bang startled Will enough that he almost dropped the saw. He looked over and, once he spotted her, rushed to shut everything down.

"Yeah babe?" He asked, like he hadn't been threatening a sentient doll. The puppet in question was gagged, but sending a quite fierce death-glare at him.

"It's dinner time. Finish up here and come up, I made burgers." She told him, smiling a little as his face lit up.

"Score!" He quickly shoved the saw away before turning to take the doll off the table and put it into a cage. It swapped it's glare to her as he shoved it inside the crate, but Stacy just stared stonily back at it.

"Yeah, you keep trying that buddy. Nothing stops these two assholes. Ow!" The red headed doll sent Stacy his own death glare as she kicked his cage, knocking him over.

"Keep quiet." She growled out, not even looking at him. "Be thankful you're not tied up too."

"Yeah yeah. Go back to your favorite toy, Bitch." He huffed out. "Can't believe you keep that thing living up there with ya. If you had any kind of integrity, she'd be down here, in a cage, with the rest of us. Ow! Fuckin' shit would you stop that?!"

"Chucky, be quiet." A nearby doll in a ripped wedding dress scolded. "You know better than to antagonize her."

"What, it's true! That thing up there is just like us, but she gets to live in the lap of luxury! Hey!"

Stacy propped a foot up on the cage, tipping it onto it's edge and leaning down to glare at the toy inside. "You wanna stop talking now? Or do you want me to come back down here after dinner, Mr. Ray?"

The dolls said nothing more and Stacy righted the cage as Will finished up. The went back upstairs, locking the door behind them.

On the table was Scout, with half a burger patty in her mouth. She froze when the two Hosts walked into the room.

"Scout, seriously?" Stacy asked. "You're supposed to wait for us before you start eating."

Scout spat out the half eaten patty. "You were taking too long. I wanted to eat."

"You still should have waited. We only took a couple of minutes."

"But I didn't want to wait."

Stacy just sighed, and grabbed a bun out of the bag to squirt some ketchup onto. This was a fight just not worth getting into, especially when it wouldn't change anything.

Instead they made up their buns and sides, and were sat down to eat. Will prayed, and Stacy waited for him to be done before digging in. Scout didn't even wait, and just finished off her meat patty before digging into the macs and cheese.

The trio ate in silence, too hungry to talk at first. But eventually Stacy swallowed a bit, and decided she was sick of the quiet.

"So, you make any progress with the Gardner job?" She asked Will. Doll torturer or not, he did still have a "real" job, same as her.

"Eh, a little. Gotta ask who usually uses the computer, though. It's full of viruses from porn sites."

"Ew. Do they have a kid, or just a really stupid adult?"

"They've got a twelve year old girl, so she's the most likely suspect." Will swallowed another bite. "Miss Gardner is always away and working, like, three jobs so it's gotta be the kid or a friend she has."

"Who would go on a porn site? It's just naked sweaty Hosts, they're gross."

"Uh..." Stacy wondered how to handle this. And then wondered if Scout had ever gone on one of those sites, to know about that part. "It's... just a thing. Some people like to look at." She coughed. "Don't question it."

"Sure." Scout comped down on a green bean, and Stacy gave a soft sigh of relief. Scout was bad enough with her language already, and Stacy didn't want to risk her learning more words and terms.

Dinner ended soon after that, with Will loading the new dishwasher when everyone was done eating. He went back downstairs to finish up what he'd been doing. Stacy and Scout meanwhile went to play video-games. Well, Stacy played, while Scout watched her do quests from her lap.

"Go down that tunnel! Go! The left!" Scout pointed forcefully, waving her arms when she was ignored.

"No, that's where we came from." Stacy sighed, annoyed yet also a little amused. "Would you rather be the one playing?"

"No. I can't hold the controller." The Puppet waved her off before suddenly yelling. "You're not looting the bodies!"

"And you won't shut up." The Host muttered, looting a single body before going back to chasing the objective. "Are you sure you don't want to play?"

"How would I even fucking do that? Don't answer that."

"Okay." Stacy fought a few more Drauger. She thought about mentioning that she wouldn't really mind it, if Scout wanted to play, but decided against it. The body swap was still a sore subject, and she didn't want to ruin the good mood.

A ping from her phone, and she paused the game to answer a text from her brother. Being the nosy Puppet that she is, Scout tried to see what she was typing. "Who's that? I thought you didn't have friends."

"It's my younger brother, Danny. Doc wanted me to talk to him more, so I am."

Scout blinked. "You have a brother?" She thought back, tried to think if she'd ever seen any pictures of Stacy's family, but couldn't remember. Will she knew had a picture of his mother, but other than that neither Host talked about their families that much.

"Yeah." A couple of swipes, and she lowered the phone to show the Puppet a photo of a younger boy. He had the same reddish hair she did, but with much paler skin and brighter blue eyes. He was also wearing an absolutely atrocious looking sweater. "He's about eight or nine years younger than me, depending on who's had a birthday at that point."

"Oh..." Scout stared at the picture. "Why is he wearing headphones?"

"Those are part of his cochlear implants. He's deaf." She swiped back over to messaging to finish her text. "But he got the surgery at a young enough age that you pretty much can't tell. He's just got a little bit of a weird sounding accent."

"Oh, cool." Stacy finished her text and went back to the game, Scout watching quietly this time. "I have a brother."

Stacy fumbled an attack, but recovered quickly enough that she didn't die. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Yeah. And three sisters." She squirmed a little, playing with the hem of her shirt. "... They probably all have Hosts by now. They were a lot better at... fitting in, than I was."

"Oh." Stacy paused the game, considering. "I'm... uh, do you you wanna talk about it?"

"Nah. I just thought you should know about them." She settled back, and Stacy unpaused the game. "I doubt I'm ever going to see them again, anyways. They were all assholes."

"Sounds like it, if they were able to "fit in" over there."

-------

Canon huffed, doing her best to try and suck in air. This was the... she didn't know how many times she'd been almost torn apart by the spells Mortimer was working on. Not really, of course, but it certainly felt like it. Like there was a scalpel carefully slicing into each stitch, cutting the small threads one by one.

"Hmm, looks like things are going well. I think I'm just about done with this spell." The magician commented, ignoring how the smaller Puppet lay limply on the floor. "Yes this plan has come together splendidly! Soon your sister will be right where she ought to be."

"... Great..." She groaned, trying to force herself upright. She failed, falling back to the floor with a soft thump. "I... can't... wait..." She had to finish the rhyme, at least, no matter how much it hurt.

"Indeed." He smirked, then grabbed a phone off the wall. "Oh Riley, we're just about ready to start! All we're missing now is the star! So gather your tools and a henchman, and go warm up the car."

"Preparations have already begun!" She relayed with an excited giggle. "Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

#hello puppets #outside #fanfiction #stacy stein #scout #riley ruckus #canon #will carson #mortimer handee

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angsty-aliens · 5 years ago

Text

Truck Stop Knives And Other Accessories Of Childhood (3/3)

Final chapter of my inner child fic which was supposed to be a short little one shot and has evolved into a verse.

Alien tech has manifested an inner child for Michael. And that child has a knife.

Thank you again to the many people who helped beta and brainstorm, especially @jocarthage, @haloud, and @foramomentonly. You can read the whole fic on Ao3

***

Morning came earlier than Michael wanted. Apparently the downside to sharing a bed with Alex was Alex still operated on military time, and although he certainly tried to let Michael sleep in, by 7am he couldn’t resist tracing a finger across an eyebrow and down his cheek. Michael didn’t mind. There were worse ways to be woken up, then the gentle caress of Alex Manes touching his face.

At some point in the night, Alex ended up curled loosely against the curve of Michael’s back. He fit perfectly and it felt right. Michael could feel the swell of his cock slotted against the back of his boxer briefs, and he couldn’t help but arch back slightly, chasing the feeling. Alex chuckled, and tugged Michael flat on his back so he could peer down at him, propped up on an elbow.

“Hands above the waist?”

Michael leered with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle, “pretty sure your hands were above my waist.”

Alex laughed, “always gotta find the loophole, Guerin.”

They kissed softly, noses bumping together in their eagerness.

After a few minutes of lazy making out, Alex reluctantly separated. “Do we think Mikey is still asleep?”

Michael thunked his head back against the pillow with a sigh, “Mikey is definitely not still asleep. I never slept through the night in a new placement. Even though he should KNOW he’s safe here with me, I guarantee he’s been awake for hours.”

“Should I be worried about my cabin?”

“He’s not gonna burn down your cabin, Alex.”

Alex tried to sooth him, “I know that. I’m not worried about that.”

Michael grudgingly sat up and retrieved his pants from the floor. “Only one way to see…”

It took them a few minutes for Alex to attach his prosthetic and for them to get dressed. Alex tried to exit the bedroom quietly in case Michael was wrong about the boy sleeping, but sure enough, the kid was fully dressed and reassembling the toaster on his coffee table. The couch had been stripped of all bedding, and every quilt was folded neatly and tucked unobtrusively to the side. Alex’s laundry basket was full of neatly folded clothing. The boy obviously emptied the dryer when he woke up, and tried to tidy up on his own. He did a good job. A better job than Alex expected any eleven year old to do. He had practice at this.

Michael tousled the kid’s hair on the way to the kitchen, “do you want oatmeal for breakfast or pizza?”

The kid was focused on his task, and carefully screwed in part of the toaster, “pizza!”

Alex was distracted, “uh, oatmeal.” He looked around again, “thank you Mikey for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that. I didn’t expect you to do that.”

The screwdriver hit the table as the boy looked up in alarm, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched your stuff.”

“No, no it’s okay. I appreciate that you folded the laundry. You just didn’t NEED to do that. You’re a guest.” Alex tried to think of a way to salvage this exchange because the boy was definitely panicking, thinking he was in trouble. “If you want to help, we can give you chores. We can all share the chores. How does that sound?”

Mikey carefully picked the screwdriver back up again, “... I can do chores.”

Alex nodded solemnly at Mikey, a bargain struck, and he walked into the kitchen to kiss the back of Guerin’s neck, while hugging him from behind. “Why is he being a Stepford Wife?”

Michael continued to slowly move about the kitchen to heat up Alex’s oatmeal, while Alex held him like a limpet. “He promised to be nice to you.”

“Why is he tidier than you are? You leave your clothing everywhere and he’s cleaned everything up like I hired a maid service.”

Michael ran a soothing hand across Alex’s arms, locked tightly across his stomach. “Some houses liked that. Some houses required it. Religious freaks definitely required it. He’s just covering his bases. Don’t make it a big deal.”

Alex kissed his neck again and rubbed his cold nose into Michael’s curls, “I’m glad you leave messes. It drives me crazy sometimes, but I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to leave a mess.”

Michael pulled two cold slices of pizza out of the fridge and laughed, “thanks?”

Alex turned him in his arms so he was hugging him properly. Usually Michael was the clingy one, but the kid rattled him. Alex wanted affection dammit.

The two men stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms tight around each other when the kid waltzed in and grabbed his slice of cold pizza. The boy smirked at Michael, “good slumber party, huh?”

Michael raised a middle finger as the kid laughed.

Mikey smirked, “Just bros being bros! Totally platonic!”

And with his hands full of pizza, the boy disappeared back into the living room to finish working on the toaster.

With a sigh, Michael shrugged, “well he said he’d TRY to be nicer.”

***

Having an eleven year old alien around the house was both simpler and more complicated than Alex anticipated. The kid didn’t leave any big messes. He was actually obsessively clean. It was like there was no kid there at all. If Alex didn’t watch him sit at the coffee table, silently putting his toaster back together with the crust of cold pizza sticking out of the side of his mouth like a cigar, Alex could almost believe he was alone. Mikey was silent and contained. He hunched up small like he didn’t think he deserved to take up too much space. Apparently being ‘nice’ meant disappearing.

Guerin on the other hand left his boots kicked into a corner of his bedroom. His hat was on top of a lamp. His side of the bed was a rumpled mess. And he was currently humming a country song enthusiastically and off key. Alex had no question where Michael was at all times. He could close his eyes and still know, because Michael was an ever moving force of nature. Even when he tried to sit still, his knee bounced, his head swayed, his hands tapped out tunes on the arm rest. He was full of kinesthetic energy.

The complicated part of having an eleven year old alien in the house was Alex was pretty sure his couch cushions were hiding a myriad of snacks. The kid thought he was subtle, but he kept reaching between the seat cushions and nodding to himself with satisfaction. Michael insisted Alex leave it be. Apparently no conversations were needed about his couch becoming a vending machine.

The boy also didn’t have the habits most kids were taught at a very young age. Alex had to herd him into the bathroom to brush his teeth. And when Michael argued that tooth brushing was only required when his breath got nasty, Alex herded his boyfriend into the bathroom too. They could brush teeth together, like a family. A weird little Lilo and Stitch family.

Mikey had only been at the cabin for two days, but Alex couldn’t imagine a time when he didn’t exist. Isobel brought a bag of clothing and necessities from Walmart and he shrunk smaller and smaller every time she pulled out a new item, arms curled around his stomach. Like he was being buried under the invisible weight of the clothing. A new toothbrush made his shoulder hunch up to his ears, Star Wars themed pajamas had him hugging his knees to his chest, the new shoes made him tuck his chin into his arms and shrink. Michael had hugged his sister and ushered her out of the cabin before the kid could diminish any further.

Isobel meant well. “They’re Star Wars pajamas! The same design as Luke Skywalker’s flight suit! Because you always talked about wanting to see the stars.”

She meant so well.

Later Michael whispered that the kid was feeling the debt. He wasn’t used to people being nice to him without an ulterior motive. There was a currency to kindness and the boy wasn’t sure when the bill would come or what they’d ask of him. It reminded Alex of being seventeen in his father’s shed, handing Michael his brother’s guitar and watching his guard go up.

“Sometimes people can be nice for no reason.”

“Not in my experience.”

Things were clicking into place. An equation finally making sense. And all he could do was hug Michael a little tighter and hope he could give Mikey a better experience for as long as they had him.

The boy presented him with his toaster. Alex was positive the toaster was never really broken. The side was a bit dinged up from when it got knocked off the counter a few months ago. And the knob was stuck on 4, but Alex liked 4. It meant his toast was dark brown which was fine. It was perfectly adequate. He could live with 4. But now the knob turned freely, giving him every option of crispiness for his toast. And the ding had been buffed out. The kid made the toaster work like new. When Alex told him that, Mikey stood up straighter. The boy tried not to smile at the praise. In a fit of bravery, Alex reached out to toustle his hair like he watched Michael do, and the boy closed his eyes for a second and actually grinned. He could only bear Alex’s attention for a second before running off into the backyard. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with praise. It didn’t fit him comfortably, and he had to run away. Alex knew that feeling. Jesse Manes didn’t believe in praise either. Alex remembered the discomfort the first time a PE teacher congratulated him on his endurance. It felt like the comments had to be mocking. He was being made fun of. It took a long time to realize the coach was being genuine.

Michael sat next to him on the couch and kissed his cheek. “What are we doing, Alex?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t really write this into my planner. I guess we’re winging it.”

“Are we moving too fast? We went from not dating, to dating, to playing house with an eleven year old. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Alex covered Michael’s hand with his own, “We’ve been on and off for a decade. It’s not like we’re strangers. I think keeping things PG for a while between us is a good idea, but we can watch Mikey and it won’t ruin anything.”

The kid was running in circles in the backyard. If there was a game, Alex couldn’t figure it out. It just looked like circles for the sake of circles. Making himself dizzy enough to fall down.

Michael’s phone started to buzz. Who would call instead of text? The name “Liz Ortecho” flashed and he reluctantly swiped to answer.

Liz’s voice came out in a rush, “Don’t be mad.” “Elizabeth Ortecho, no good news ever came after the statement - don't be mad.”

Liz continued, “Okay I know we were going to wait to mess with the disk until we could be at the lab together, but I…”

Michael scrubbed a hand over his face, “Oh god Liz, what did you do?”

“It’s not bad! Hey, put me on speakerphone so I don’t have to repeat this to Alex later.”

Michael placed the phone between them and pushed a button.

“You’re on speaker,” Alex was puzzled but supportive, “Liz are you okay?”

“Yeah, everything is fine. I was pressing different glyphs on the disk and I think I may have accidentally accessed a user manual. Kind of. It sort of was like a psychic connection, either I accessed a user manual, or it caused me to have a psychotic break.”

“Liz.” Alex looked at Michael in alarm.

Her voice took on a higher pitch, “It’s fine! I took notes!”

Michael rolled his eyes, “THAT is not the part we’re worried about!”

Liz ignored them, “Okay so this is what I wrote down: the disk IS a therapy tool. Its intended purpose is to encourage the patient to reconnect with a difficult point in their life and by interacting with the construct the patient develops a healthier understanding of their past.”

Michael interrupted her, “Liz I hope this thing didn’t give you brain cancer.”

“Shut up.”

“Or worse, you could have accidentally triggered your own mini Ortecho.”

Irritation colored her voice, “Michael, let me finish. The connection wasn’t in English. It was all concepts, so I’m not sure I’m translating it right. Mikey is real. He’s a real kid and he’ll age like a real kid. You’ve gotta make peace with yourself, forgive yourself, and when you’re ready you both hold onto the disk and you meld back together. It doesn’t hurt him. He’s part of you. And if you never touch the disk again, Mikey stays. He’ll grow up like any normal child. We should probably run tests on both of you though, just to see. Kyle can give you both a physical.”

Michael shook his head, “The kid is NOT going to like Valenti.”

Liz insisted, “Kyle’s great with kids. It’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral.”

Alex elbowed Michael, “Okay so why didn’t the disk meld them back together when they both touched it a few days ago?”

Liz said, “It won’t work until Michael deals with his childhood trauma.”

Michael laughed, “Sure, I can just deal with my trauma. I’ll go see a therapist and talk about my abandonment issues that began when my family crash landed in Roswell in 1947. Easy.”

Alex put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You could talk to a therapist and leave out the alien details. You were abandoned. Your siblings were adopted and you weren’t. You survived a string of abusive foster homes. These are all human problems.”

Michael shrugged, dislodging the hand, “Therapists are expensive. You can’t just go talk to one. It’s cheaper to drink beer.”

Liz’s voice piped up through the cell phone, “Super healthy coping mechanism, Michael.”

Michael deflected, “So ANYWAY, if we don’t touch the disk, Mikey stays? And if we do touch the disk after I sell an alien kidney to talk to a shrink, then Mikey gets sucked back into me?”

He could almost hear the grimace in her voice, “Gross way to put it, but yes.”

“Okay thanks Ortecho. Don’t push anymore buttons on the disk. Max would cry if your brain melted.” Michael hung up the phone, turned to Alex and interlaced their fingers, “I can always take him back to the airstream. We can get out of your hair. I don’t know how long he’ll be here. You don’t just get over a shitty childhood in a day and go eat ice cream.”

Alex squeezed his hand, “I want you to stay here. I want you both to stay here. We can always clean out the extra bedroom. Right now it’s full of boxes from when I packed up Jim’s stuff. I can ask Kyle to go through it and keep what he wants. It’d be easy to turn that back into a bedroom.”

“Not your creepy murder basement?”

“Definitely not the creepy murder basement.” Alex considered, “Although actually I could probably store the boxes in there!”

Alex nodded and continued, “If the kid is here for longer than a week, we can make long term plans. I can forge paperwork. Say you’re the father and you didn’t know about him. His mother moved out of Roswell and dropped him off out of the blue.”

“I would have been sixteen or seventeen when I slept with the mother. A teenage father, how scandalous… but sort of on brand for me.”

“Maybe she was a tourist? Not anyone any of the locals would remember.”

Michael laughed, “Okay so Mikey is the result of a hook up between teenage me, and an adult out of town tourist. Yeah, this is definitely sounding like something I’d do.”

Alex was starting to become more comfortable with this plan. He loved having a plan. “So we’d need a name. Michael is a super common name and maybe she liked you enough to give him your first name, but he’d need a new last name.”

“Truman. My mom’s name was Nora Truman. I don’t care what name his fake mom has, and I don’t really want people thinking I slept with someone named Nora Truman, but he could be Michael Truman. I could have been Michael Truman if my mom got me out of the pods.”

Alex watched the boy fall down and get back up to run even tighter circles. “Maybe we can let Mikey pick out his fake mom’s name. Let him have some sort of agency, and feel involved in these choices. Are you okay with me helping you?”

“Like am I okay with you co-parenting my weird alien inner child?” Michael raised an eyebrow, “This week is so weird. Yes. Please, please help me. I barely kept myself alive for twenty one years on my own. I don’t trust myself to watch TWO of me.”

Alex tugged him closer, “you did a great job on your own. And you’d do a great job now. You just shouldn’t have HAD to have done it alone as a kid, and I don’t want you to be alone now. I want to help. I don’t think we should enroll him in school anytime soon. We should try and figure out more. But I like having some sort of idea of where we’re going here.”

“You and me, and my feral little monster who has a knife”

“Wait, he has a knife?” Alex sat up.

“Oh yeah. I didn’t mention that? It’s a pocketknife. I gave it back to him because I knew he wouldn’t stab you, and you could disarm him if he tried.” Michael appeased, “Which he won’t. I promise he won’t stab you.”

“He’s not a little monster.” Michael seemed distracted so Alex tugged on a curl to get his attention and repeated, “He’s not a little monster. And YOU’RE not a little monster. He’s a kid and we’re gonna make sure he eats a vegetable every once in awhile, and goes to sleep at a decent hour. We can do this.”

“I mean we’re already doing a better job than any of my foster homes.”

“That bar is pretty low.”

“And yet it exists.”

They eased back on the couch and watched Mikey play.

***

Michael leaned against the backdoor watching his shrinky dink alien run. The kid was playing some sort of weird running game with rules only he knew, and that Michael definitely didn’t remember. One foot managed to get hooked behind the other and the kid landed hard on his ass. Michael winced in sympathy. “Is your butt okay?”

The kid retorted, “is your BRAIN okay?

Michael shrugged, “If your butt hurts we can get Max to heal it. We don’t let him use his powers much anymore since I turned him into a cyborg with an alien pacemaker, but he could heal your butt. You’d just end up with a shiny silver handprint… on your butt. And Max could spy on your feelings, and you’d get to wallow in his poetic angst and guilt.”

The kid narrowed his eyes, “I can’t even tell if you’re kidding. Is that real? Max can heal? But with a handprint and psychic link?”

“Yep.”

Mikey huffed in irritation, “Pretty sure you’re making stuff up, but whatever. What can Isobel do? Fly but she poops alien glitter as a side effect?”

“You should DEFINITELY tell Isobel your theories.” Michael laughed, “But no, she can get into people's brains and influence them.”

Mikey side eyed him, “does she do that to us?”

“No. She promised. Sometimes she can get inside my head but she promises she won’t try to influence us. I don’t even know if she can. She’s only tried the brain thing when she needed to tell me something she couldn’t say out loud.” Michael grimaced, “I didn’t like it. She doesn’t do it often. Apparently our brain is tough and she usually has to puke if she tries anything. SHE says it’s because we’re guarded and paranoid. I think it’s because we’re awesome.”

Michael offered up a hand to high five and the kid pushed past him to the kitchen instead. Ouch.

The kid was getting a glass of water and rummaging around the fridge which made Michael grin. It took awhile to get Mikey to stop asking permission for every single thing. But Michael remembered all the homes that had strict rules about the kitchen. The religious zealots had a lock on the fridge to discourage their charges from greed. Apparently a kid being hungry was the mortal sin of gluttony.

With his head still in the fridge the kid absentminded asked, “Max is a cyborg?”

“He ended up with a heart issue. Long story. I made him a pacemaker and he’s fine now.” Michael wrinkled his nose, “Mostly.”

Mikey kicked the door shut with his hands full of food. “That’s good. Isobel would miss him if something happened to him.”

Michael pulled down a plate to help the boy make a sandwich, “Yeah, Isobel would miss him.”

The two of them stood side by side making sandwiches. It was good. Eating when hungry. Michael had gotten so used to caregivers forgetting to feed him, that he trained himself to ignore hunger. Unless it was really bad, it didn’t bother him so much anymore. Grabbing a granola bar for breakfast and then working straight through until seven or eight pm wasn’t unusual. It just seemed like a waste of energy to worry about what was for lunch when for so many years there was no lunch. Michael grew up loving school. Not only was it a place he excelled, but he also got breakfast and lunch every day there. He never understood the jokes about how gross cafeteria food was. For him, it was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he was ever gonna get. A sloppy joe served by Mrs. Riley every wednesday at New Roswell High, was his version of a dinner cooked by mom. Summers and Winter break were hard. No school meant no little plastic trays with cartons of chocolate milk and plastic silverware. School was a good place. Michael had liked school.

He cut the sandwiches in half like he’d watched Alex do. It seemed nicer that way. The kid carefully took his plate with two hands. No danger of dropping it. And Michael grabbed plates for himself and Alex, and took them to the table. Lunch. Yet another new thing Michael was trying.

They’d have to figure out what to do the longer Mikey stayed. Michael and Alex both took the day off of work, but the kid would need to go somewhere during the day starting soon. Maybe Max or Isobel. Max was still doing night shifts at the Pony and Isobel was taking a sabbatical from her event planning business. If they went public with the story that Mikey was Michael’s son, he could hang out in the junkyard with him. Michael could fix cars and there were a thousand things the kid could play with. Most foster homes didn’t let Michael fiddle with things. But he loved taking stuff apart and putting it back together. A junkyard was a perfect playground for an engineering genius.

Mikey and Alex were having an animated conversation about the merits of Ninja Turtles. Apparently Alex thought Leonardo was the best because he was the leader and was the most focused. Mikey insisted it was Michelangelo because of… pizza. And honestly, Michael had to agree. Pizza always wins. He grinned at his boys and took another huge bite of his sandwich. Maybe this would work after all.

***

Sleeping in Alex’s bed was never going to get old. There was a Michael shaped divot on the right side of the mattress. Even when he got up, he could see the impression of his body. Alex insisted this meant the mattress was shitty and he needed a new one, but Michael liked the evidence he was there.

He curled up closer to Alex and let his hand rest on his hip, technically breaking the hands above the waist rule but so long as his hand didn’t move, it seemed safe enough. His thumb fit perfectly in the hollow of Alex’s hip. He had rubbed a gentle circle when the part of his brain connected to Mikey pinged a distress call again. With a sigh he climbed out of bed, and hoped he didn’t wake Alex as he left.

The kid was sitting up on the couch wrapped in a quilt. Mikey picked at a loose thread on the knee of his Star Wars pajamas. Michael sat next to him and let him lean his weight against his side.

“Bad dream?”

The kid shrugged and pulled his knees up to his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mikey shook his head. A few minutes later he blurted, “I heard you and Alex.”

“Heard us what?”

Mikey rocked a little in place, “Talking about how the disk works. How you gotta talk about your emotions so we meld together like a transformer, Mega-Michael, or you’re stuck with me.”

Michael protested, “I don’t have to talk about my emotions.”

“Sometimes you gotta share your fart with the world. You keep it all squeezed up in your butt and it gives you a stomach ache. You just gotta let it out to feel better.”

“My emotions aren’t farts.” Michael crossed his arms defensively.

“But your face is a fart,”

“We have the same face!”

The kid smirked, “Nah, I look awesome. You look constipated.”

Mikey became quiet and serious. He pressed his body against Michael’s side, trying to become a Mega-Michael without alien technology. “You gotta be okay with the bad stuff that happened to us. You’ve gotta… not blame me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“You blame yourself. I blame me. Bad things happened everywhere we went. We were the only constant factor in the experiment, therefore we’re the variable at fault. It’s just science.”

Michael wrapped both arms around the kid, “I don’t blame you.”

The boy huffed, “You’re stuck with me for awhile. If we don’t touch the disk, you could be stuck with me forever.”

Michael rested his chin on the kid’s head, “That wouldn’t totally suck.”

Mikey closed his eyes, “Alex might not be a fan of this plan.”

“Alex likes this plan.” The Michaels looked up as Alex spoke with a smile. At some point he wandered into the hallway unnoticed. His shoulder was against the wall and he leaned heavily on his crutch. He had been eavesdropping.

The kid tried to push himself out of Michael’s hug, but Michael just squeezed him tighter.

Mikey insisted, “You won’t like me. I’m a mess.”

Alex sat on the other side of him and wrapped an arm around his boys, “I like messes.”

“No you don’t. You’re clean. You make your bed perfectly every morning and you always do your dishes. You’d get tired of me. I’m loud.”

“The cabin was too quiet anyway.”

“I’m… I’m mean. I’ll say mean things.”

Alex ran a hand through the boy’s curls, “It’s okay. You can say mean things and we’ll still like you. You can still stay here. We’re choosing you. We want you to stay.”

Mikey tried to push at the arms embracing him. He kicked at Michael as his eyes welled up, “I’m gonna break all the stuff you like!”

Michael winced as a bony heel caught his thigh, “Yeah but we can fix it. Anything you break we can fix together.”

It was like someone cut the strings of a dancing marionette. The kid lost all fight and fat tear drops streamed down his face to his horror. “You’re gonna change your mind.”

Michael looked at Alex, a silent conversation happening above the boy’s head. Michael wiped a glob of snot off the kid’s face with the hem of his shirt. “We’re picking you. On purpose. We want you to stay. Do you want to stay?”

Mikey took a great shuddering breath and nodded.

Alex thumbed away a tear, “Then as long as you want us, we want to keep you.”

It wasn’t a conventional family. It wasn’t something Michael ever thought he’d have. But Michael, Alex, and Mikey could pick each other. That was a thing they could do. And they’d be okay.

#my fic #inner child fic #rnm fic #michael guerin fic #michael guerin #alex manes #feral stabby baby #cw child abuse #tw child abuse #roswell new mexico fic #deaging #kind of #truck stop knives and other accessories of childhood

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