#I’d had a job as soon as I could work and my brother died and sister moved out of state so I was effectively an only child

[atlafan]

Bad Medicine - Prologue + Part 1

a/n: you can read this 8-part, completed fic on Patreon now! I always like to post the first part of a completed work here to give yall a taste. Consider joining my Patreon today to read the rest of this fic, and the many others I have on there. Happy Friday! Warnings: grief, funerals, a ton of sexual tension. best friend's little sister/brother's best friend trope Words: 10K Patreon

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Prologue

Harry

It was sudden and unexpected. But even when you’re given the time to prepare, you still fall apart when it happens, so there’s no difference.

My best friend died. We’re only thirty-one, this shouldn’t be happening yet. But a brain aneurysm doesn’t care how old you are, apparently. Tim hadn’t felt well one afternoon. We all thought he was dehydrated, so he went to lay down. When his mother went upstairs to check on him, his body was unmoving, and he had no pulse.

The Bakers are a close family. I had the privilege of being pulled in when Tim and I became friends. Tim’s father, Adam, died a long time ago, it was a mixture of lung cancer and high cholesterol. When he died, he left quite a bit of land to Tim and I. Tim’s mother, Georgette, had already known about this, but it came as a complete shock to Tim and I.

“It’s so you two can build the ranch back up, make it better.” Georgette had smiled somberly. “We didn’t think you’d be getting it quite so soon.”

My grandmother had raised me, but when she got too old to take care of herself, we had to sell our home. I moved her into the best assisted living facility I could find, and the Bakers invited me to come live with them. I barely needed to take them up on their offer because this happened around when Tim and I were set to go to college. We both got football scholarships at the same school. It was perfect. But I’d stay with them when I’d come home on breaks, and I had been going to their house since I was five. The Bakers have always been family.

Since Adam died when we were fifteen, our after-school jobs became mowing, fence mending, dirt packing, stall mucking, and so on. We worked our asses off to bring Black Beauty Ranch to life. Georgette was a big help with the logistics. She had grown up on a cattle ranch, so she knew the ins and outs of buying and selling cattle, horses, chickens, and so on. She knew the best vets to come in and check on the animals, she knew how to help the animal through giving birth, and she knew how to give horse riding lessons. She of course taught us all of that too, so by the time Tim and I graduated from college, we were ready to take the reins.

We built a big, beautiful house for ourselves. The land wasn’t too far from the Baker’s original house, so we created a throughway and had Georgette stay living there, while Tim and I lived in our big house. We call Georgette’s house Girl House, and we call mine and Tim’s Boy House. It was stupid, but because Tim’s little sister stayed with Georgette, and they were girls, it made sense for that to be called the girl house because that’s what it was. Rowan was actually the one to give us the idea. Not living with Georgette gave us the much needed independence we craved. We didn’t want to have to answer to anyone about who may or may not be sleeping over, and Tim didn’t want Rowan seeing random women coming and going.

After we built the boy house, we worked on smaller, ranch-style homes that the ranch hands could live in, if they so choose. We used several as Air BnB’s to offset different costs, and we even converted one of the barns into an event space so people could have their wedding receptions or parties here.

Families rented our horse stables, our horses too, and we offered lessons. The ranch hands did a superb job of keeping the cattle healthy, along with the other animals. We’ve made this place into a well-oiled machine. Even Rowan stepped up a few years back to do some freelance social media management for us. She set up an email marketing schedule, ads on different social networking sites, all of that shit. I don’t understand much of it. I think I only have Instagram and Facebook as apps on my phone, and that’s just to stay in touch with a few people and to switch into the business accounts to answer questions.

It wasn’t until a little later that it was revealed as to why Adam left his nearly 6,000 acres to us. His brother, Glen, thought he was going to get everything since the Baker home had been a generational family home. He only got the Baker General Store in town, and he ended up having to sell it because of the 2008 recession. He had that little bit of cash and nothing else. He’s tried to weasel his way into Black Beauty Ranch, but Georgette has been good about keeping him out of our business. The land was in a trust, split between me and Tim. Glen was pretty pissed when we met with the family attorney to go over Adam’s will.

“How could he do this to me, I’m his brother! That boy isn’t even related to us!” Glen had shouted, scaring Rowan. I’ll never forget seeing her little body tremble as she hung on to Tim.

“It doesn’t matter! This is what Adam and I wanted. We wanted to ensure the kids would be set up for long after we’re gone. Tim needed a partner, and Harry’s practically family. His grandmother babysat you and Adam when you were kids, remember?”

“So that makes him family?”

“Maybe I should go.” I had said, not wanting to cause any drama.

“Harry, it’s alright. Glen’s just being a baby.” Georgette said, then looked at Glen. “You’re getting the general store, what’s the big deal?”

“I already had the general store.”

“You had half of the general store. Adam left you his share. You only want the acreage so you can convert it into a subdivision and sell bits and pieces of it for people to build shitty homes on. The land will be a better use for Black Beauty.”

“What a stupid name.” Glen seethed.

“I picked it out.” Little Rowan had mustered the courage to say. “The boys let me.”

“It’s her favorite movie.” Tim said. “And we wanted her to feel like she had a say in things.”

“There are, like, eight different Black Beauty movies.” Glen ran a hand down his face. “This is insane!”

“It doesn’t matter. This is what Adam wanted, and I signed off on it when we put all of this together.” Georgette said. “This isn’t something you can contest. My husband died.” She took a step towards him. “The love of my life is gone forever, you don’t want to fuck with me right now, Glen.”

It was the first time I had ever heard Georgette use a curse word. The room fell completely silent, and that was that.

The ranch is really starting to turn a profit now. It’s been good for the town of Hawthorn, thanks to all of the jobs the ranch created. Other ranches and farms buy our cattle to sell to markets because ours aren’t pumped full of hormones or other bullshit. And even though somedays it feels like back-breaking labor, I love what I do.

But Tim’s dead now, so I have no idea how I’m going to manage the ranch on my own. Sure, Georgette is still here to help, but I can’t rely on her forever. I’m going to need to talk to Rowan when she gets here for the funeral. Maybe she can help out in the interim. She hasn’t lived at home in quite some time, but maybe she wouldn’t mind not paying rent for a while, that could sweeten the deal a bit considering she lives in LA where the rent is astronomical.

We all decided to meet at the boy house since that’s where everyone will go after the service. Georgette is already down in my kitchen. I’m just getting my tie tied when I hear Georgette exclaim, “She’s here!”. Hopefully her loud voice didn’t send my Granny into shock. She’s ninety, she can’t handle much these days.

I make my way downstairs, give Granny a kiss on the top of her head before topping up her coffee, and then the wind is knocked out of me when Georgette brings Rowan into the house.

She looks the most grown up I’ve ever seen her, like…like a real woman. All she has on is a simple, black dress, but there’s something different about her.

Before I can greet her, she’s throwing herself into me, crying, “Oh, Harry!” She sobs into my chest, and I have no idea what to do. I don’t want to hold her too tight. She’s already pressed up against me, I don’t need to feel any more of her than I already do. I decide to just pat at her shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know you all are sad too, I just don’t know how I’m going to get through this.” She pulls back and wipes under her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s really gone. Oh! Hi, Granny Styles.” She throws her arms around Granny. “How are you feeling?”

“Any time I sit, I have to sit on a donut or else my back hurts for a week. How the hell do you think I’m feeling?”

“Granny.” I can’t help but laugh. “Don’t be nasty to Ro, hm? Her brother died.”

Granny rolls her eyes. Losing a sibling is child’s play to her. She was forced to bury her son and daughter-in-law on the same day. There’s really no coming back from that kind of grief. But the upside is, Georgette has someone to talk to about what it feels like to lose a child.

“The town car is here.” Georgette says. “I’ll sit with Granny in the second row of seats, you two can sit in the back row. It’s nice that no one will have to sit up front with the driver. When Adam died, they wouldn’t let Ro sit on my lap, so they made Glen go sit up front. Come to think of it, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.”

“I’m glad he’s not riding with us to the cemetery.” Rowan says. “Why isn’t he, though? Since he’s immediate family.”

“I asked the undertaker if they could send a separate car to his house since your aunt and cousins are coming.”

We all head outside to the car, and I help Granny inside before rounding the car to open the other door for Georgette. Then I open the door for Rowan before going around the car again to get in on the other side. We’re all quiet, knowing that if we speak at this point, we’ll all just burst into tears. I, for one, would prefer to save my tears for the service.

We’re not late by any means, but we’re not the first to arrive. A few of the ranch hands are already here, as well as some friends from high school, and Tim’s ex-girlfriend, Delia.

Fuck. They broke up about six months ago, she must be devastated. I leave Georgette, Rowan, and Granny to go over to her.

“Hey.” I say.

“Hi.” Her voice cracks and I open my arms to hug her. She comes to me easily. When I feel her stomach meet mine rather quickly, I step back and look down. She’s wearing a long coat. She notices me looking at her stomach and she sighs, opening her jacket. “I was going to tell him.” She takes a deep breath and closes her jacket back up. “I wanted to wait until I knew if I even wanted to keep it or not. I didn’t know if I wanted to be attached to Tim for the rest of my life. But…when a few months went by, I thought about how much of a great dad he would be. So…so I was going to come here and tell him, and…and see if he wanted to try to make things work. I can’t believe I waited so long. I…” She buries her face back into my chest and I hold her.

“How far along are you, exactly?” I can’t help but ask.

“Almost five months. We had one last spontaneous romp when we bumped into each other at a concert. We both had been drinking and…well, you know, sometimes these things happen.”

“I have to ask the uncomfortable question: are you sure it’s his?”

“That’s valid.” She sighs. “I haven’t slept with anyone else. I went on a few dates after Tim and I broke up, but when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to focus on myself.”

“Alright.” I run a hand through my hair. “Tensions are high today. Come back to the house after the service. I think Georgette will be really excited about having a grandbaby. And we can give you a place to live, money towards pre-natal care, stuff like that, if you need it. I know how conservative your parents are…do they know?”

“No, I’m going to tell them after the baby’s born. I’m afraid they’d find a way to push me down the stairs or something. Your kindness and hospitality is much appreciated.”

“It’s what Tim would want.” I smile softly.

“I can’t believe how grown-up Rowan looks.” Delia nods towards her. “I mean, I know she’s twenty-six, but this is one of the first times it’s hit me that she’s not a little girl anymore.”

“I was thinking the same thing earlier.”

“Yeah? You were checking her out?” Delia smirks, and I feel my cheeks grow hot.

“No.” I say defensively. “Don’t be gross, Dee.” I shake off my embarrassment when I see Glen, his wife Priscilla, his son Malcom, and his daughter Elma. “I better go say hi to them. There are chairs if you need to sit.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

I go over to Glen and his family just as they’re wrapping up their hellos. I shake his hand and do my best to smile at my surrogate aunt and cousins. Me, Tim, and Malcom all graduated in the same year. I think Malcom was always jealous that Tim and I were closer, but the three of us did just about everything together for a while. And for the most part, we got along just fine.

“Isn’t it just terrible that funerals are the only times we really get together?” Elma dabs her eyes with a tissue. She’s three years younger than us. And even though I was never interested, Malcom gave me the, ‘don’t ever touch my sister’, talk when we were in high school, and he reminded me again when she turned eighteen. Then he got offended when I told him I’d never want to go out with Elma.

Malcom is just like his father in that he never understood why Tim and I never cut him in for partial ownership of the ranch. He claimed he could help and be useful, but this was something Adam had left to only Tim and myself, probably for a good reason, so we never cut Malcom in. Malcom is successful in his own right, having opened up his own real estate agency, not so cleverly called, Baker Realty. Elma is his accountant. Despite her faults, she’s a fucking whiz with numbers, I have to give her that. Neither of them are married with kids.

“Mrs. Baker.” The reverend comes over to us, addressing Georgette and not Priscilla. “We’ve filled in considerably. I think it’s time you all take your seats so we can begin. I believe Mrs. Styles is already sitting.”

“Yeah, Granny sat down right away.” I say and give Georgette my arm. I almost trip when Rowan takes my other arm. We all sit down in the front row of seats. I sit by Granny, Georgette sits next to me, and Rowan is on her other side. The rest of the family fills in the other seats. Delia sits behind us. I’m glad she’ll be off her feet for a bit. I feel Granny put her hand over mine and I turn to look at her. All she does is look at me and give me a soft smile. “Are you alright?” I whisper.

“It’s a terrible thing, to bury your child. It’s bringing back some tough memories, but I’m more so worried about you. You and Tim were attached at the hip. So, you just squeeze Granny’s hand any time it becomes to be too much, just like you did at your parents’ funeral.”

I kiss her temple then interlock our fingers. I don’t know what I’m gonna do when she eventually kicks the bucket.

The second the reverend begins, I feel my eyes water. Out of my peripheral, I can see tears sliding down Georgette’s cheeks. Rev talks about how we should look at things as a celebration of life and the ways we can keep Tim alive in our hearts going forward. Then he steps aside so others can speak. I take a deep breath and stand up first.

“To quote Emily Dickinson, ‘my friends are my estate’. This was true for Tim. Land, money…none of that mattered to him as long as his family was happy and healthy. Tim had to grow up fast after his father died. He stepped into the ‘man of the house’ role seamlessly. He took on a lot and never complained. Tim and I have been friends since kindergarten. I was instantly pulled in as a member of the Baker family. I’ll always be grateful to him for giving me a sense of normalcy. The world will be different without Tim.” Tears start sliding down my face, but I’m still able to speak without hiccups. “It hasn’t completely set in that I’ll never be able to go fishing with him, or go for a ride on our horses, or even muck out a stall with him again. Tim was my best friend, my brother…and I loved him.” I look back at his casket. “I’ll miss you, buddy.” I sit back down and Georgette mouths, ‘thank you’.

Rowan goes up next, but she’s only able to get a few sentences out before she has to sit back down. A couple of other friends share some kind words about Tim, and then we’re all standing up as he’s lowered into the ground. Rowan’s sob breaks me out of my trance. She sounds like she’s been stabbed. Turning to her, I open my arms and let her hug and hold onto me. She clutches to the lapels of my suit jacket, and I wrap my arms around her, resting my chin on the top of her head.

“It’s okay, honeybee.” I say, just above a whisper, “We’ll get through this.”

I see Malcom and he’s already looking at me, narrowing his eyes. I have no idea why.

We’re all eventually pried away from the gravesite, and back at the boy house. People are eating and drinking and sharing more stories about Tim. Some people are still crying, but it seems like everyone has a shoulder to lean on. I head into my home office for a minute alone, and to grab a beer out of the minifridge. Tim and I shared this space. We always joked around that it looked like an old detective’s office, with the desks pressed back-to-back.

Just as I’m taking the cap off my beer, Rowan comes in and closes the door behind her.

“We’re doing everything with the will tomorrow. Your mom figured Glen would put up a stink, and we didn’t want that happening today.”

“I wasn’t coming in here to talk about that. Delia just told us she’s pregnant and that you said she could live here if she needed to.”

“I’ll have her stay in your mom’s house. I don’t want her coming to me as some sort of surrogate boyfriend, or father to her baby.”

“I’m��gonna have to move back here to help out…aren’t I.” It’s not a question.

“I’m sure your mom would appreciate it.”

“The second I come back here, she’s going to-“

“Rowan, now really isn’t the time to be a whiny brat.” I snap. “None of this matters right now. Your brother died, can we just get through his funeral before we make things all about you?” I take a swig of my beer before setting it down. “I know you have a whole other life in LA. I’m not gonna twist your arm to make you come back, but it sure as shit would be nice if you did. I can’t run the ranch by myself, and I can’t rely on your mom. Tim would have wanted you to take over his share, and I’m fairly certain that’s stated in his will.”

“I’ll have to quit my job…I wouldn’t be able to come back right away. I’ll need to drive my car back. I’ll need help.”

“I’ll have your mom fly out to help you, and then she can drive back with you.”

“Not you?”

“No, I’ll be needed here.”

“Where would I live? If Delia’s gonna move in with Ma…are any of the smaller ranch houses available? You must save a couple for the Air BnB.”

“They’re all booked out, and all of the other houses are taken. If one opens up, it’ll go to Delia. She’ll only want to live with your mom for so long.”

“So…I’d live here?”

“What’s wrong with your house? It’s not like Delia’s taking over your room.”

“I cannot live under the same roof as my mother again.”

“Cut her some slack.”

“Right now, I have all the freedom in the world. If I move back in with her, she’s gonna start up with house rules and other bullshit.”

“And you think there wouldn’t be rules here with me?” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because let me tell you, young lady, I have rules.”

“Oh?” She smiles, and it’s rather…flirty. I’m suddenly aware that we’re alone in a room with the door closed. “And what might those be?”

“You really want to live with me? This house is huge, but it’s not like every bedroom has an en suite. We’d be sharing a bathroom, this office-“

“I won’t mind being around you so much. I never have.” There she goes, being flirty again.

“Let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?”

“Okay.” She sighs. “Anyways, I only came in here to take a break from everyone. Thank you for speaking so nicely before. I wish I could’ve gotten all my words out.”

“You did your best. It’s not easy.”

“I should go check on Delia. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

I watch Rowan leave, biting into my cheek as I watch her hips sway. Did she have to wear such a tight dress? It’s completely appropriate with its high neckline, and it goes down just above her knees, but the way it accentuates her…assets…

I sit down at my desk and sigh, feeling sad when I look up and don’t see Tim sitting across from me. It’s at this time, I notice an envelope on my desk with my name on it. It’s Tim’s handwriting. I open it immediately:

“Harry, if I’m to perish in an untimely manor, there’s something you need to know. If I’m not around, then I won’t be there to make sure Rowan is alright. Even though she doesn’t come home as often, if something happens to me, she’ll come home. I want you to look out for her the same way I did. She’ll need a positive male force in her life, and I don’t want Uncle Glen or Malcom trying to do that. It has to be you.

This isn’t my secret to tell, but you should know that Rowan has a major crush on you. She does a good job to hide it, but I’m not an idiot, it’s clear from the way she looks at you. I don’t think you ever would, but my wish is that you never start a romantic relationship with her.

My reasoning behind this isn’t because you can be sort of promiscuous. I’ve seen you have wonderful relationships, so it’s not that I don’t think you’re capable. And it’s not because I don’t think you’re worthy of my sister. But if you were to ever get together, and it didn’t work out, there would be a rift between you and my family going forward. Tensions would rise, and it could ruin the peace we’ve built at Black Beauty. Even if you fall in love with her and truly think you could make it, don’t go after her. If she flirts with you or asks you out, turn her down. It’ll hurt and it’ll suck, but it’s what has to be done.

I know this seems insane, but I never want you to be on bad terms with my family. So, please, honor this wish of mine.”

I’m stunned. Did he really think I would ever jeopardize everything we’ve worked for? Flush sixteen years of work down the toilet just so I could fuck his sister? I don’t even like Rowan like that. And what was all that shit about her having a crush on me? I suppose the flirting makes sense, but that could also just be playfulness. I’ve never noticed her looking at me or anything. But then again, I was never looking at her.

Not until today.

What else is odd is that Tim never verbally spoke with me about this. Since Rowan is a decent chunk younger than us, he never had to give me the ‘don’t touch my sister’ talk the way Malcom felt the need to do with Elma. And why wouldn’t John just give this to me tomorrow when he reads out the will? Who found this, and who put it here?

This is not good. Not good at all.

**

Part One

Rowan

When my mother called to tell me that Tim had died suddenly, I was in a state of shock. I didn’t believe it, but also put her on speaker so I could immediately book my flight out to Hawthorn.

I only come home sporadically, for certain holidays. I wanted so much more out of life than smelling like horse shit and dirt. I went to college in LA, and pretty much never came home, moving there full time after graduation. I have a great job doing social media metrics and analysis. I work the job remotely, but I don’t think I’ll be able to do it and help out on the ranch at the same time. I’ll have to talk to my supervisor. I know I’ll have to move back here for good. Harry’s right, he needs me to take Tim’s share.

I suppose it won’t be all bad, being around Harry all the time. I’ve missed him. The way he held me today and just let me cry into him was everything I didn’t know I needed. I’m sure he still just sees me as Tim’s baby sister, but I could have sworn there was something different in his eyes when he looked at me today. It was like he was seeing me clearly for the first time in his life. It sent a wave of confidence running through me.

Five years is a big age difference. I knew that growing up. I knew nothing would ever happen between us, not until we were older, at least. Thirty-one and twenty-six doesn’t seem as huge. We’ve both matured, especially me. I’ve learned to take care of myself. That’s partially why I don’t want to move into my mother’s home. She’ll take everything I’ve done and squash it in a matter of minutes.

I love my mother, and it’s not that I don’t get along with her, but I have reasons as to why I moved away. I needed to breathe.

Every other minute, I get hit with a wave of reality. My brother is gone. He’s never coming back. I haven’t felt this lost or sad since my dad died. I was only nine when that happened. Tim took on so much and never complained, just as Harry said. He was so much more than a big brother to me. He and Harry taught me how to fish, start a fire at a campsite, to swim…Tim was always there for me. But so was Harry. He’ll make coming home much easier. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll start seeing me as more than just Tim’s little sister. We can deal with our grief together and help each other, and I can show him how adult I’ve become. I’m not a little girl anymore. I haven’t been for a very long time.

**

“Rowan, Tim’s share of the ranch goes to you.” John, our family’s attorney says. We’re all in the home office, listening. Harry’s barely looked in my direction. But I’m not holding anything against him. It’s a weird time. “If after a year you want out, Harry, and only Harry,” he looks at Malcom and Glen, “can buy you out.”

Okay, so if I hate it, I only have to stick around for a year. That’s not so bad.

“How does that make any sense?” Glen asks.

“Because the ranch is in a trust, and myself and Tim are the only ones allowed to sell and buy and do things with it, you jackass. Now it’ll be Rowan and I.” Harry huffs. “John, please continue.”

“The boy house is yours, of course. The girl house is still Georgette’s, but it’ll go to you and Rowan when she’s done with it. Tim leaves his personal affects to you, Harry, to do whatever you want to them. Is there a Delia Anderson present?”

“That’s me.” Delia raises her hand. I didn’t think my brother would have left anything for her. He didn’t know she was pregnant. “Tim…mentioned me in his will?”

“He stated that in the event of an untimely pass, he wanted to give you the money he had saved for an…engagement ring.”

“Oh my god.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, clearly trying not to cry. “I can’t believe I fucked up so badly with him.” She buries her face in her hands and sobs. My mother goes to her quickly, rubbing her back.

“Dee, you didn’t know this was going to happen.” Harry says softly. “You can do whatever you want with the money. Can set up a retirement account, or something for the baby.”

“Right.” Delia sniffles. “Thank you.”

“I thought Tim didn’t know you were pregnant.” Malcom says.

“He didn’t.” Delia snaps. “That’s just the kind of guy he was. We were together for four years. We still loved each other. We just needed to take a break.”

“John, is there anything else?” Harry asks.

“That was the last item.”

“Great, meeting adjourned.” Harry claps his hands together. “Everyone can leave now.” He looks at Glen and Malcom as he says this. “Bye, see you at the next holiday gathering. Malcom, we’ll get beers later in the week, yeah?”

“Alright.” Malcom nods with a sigh.

“So,” my mother says once the other Bakers are gone, “Rowan, how quickly do you think you’ll be able to pack and wrap things up at work?”

“I don’t know. At least two weeks.”

“Alright, I’ll fly out when you’re ready and we’ll drive back together.” Ma says. “That shouldn’t take more than a couple of days if we set our minds to it.”

“Okay.” I look at Harry who’s looking anywhere but me. “Harry, should we sit and go over things, like, what you’ll need me to do around here and all that?”

“I can have that ready for you for when you get back.” He says. “I need time to really sit and think about it.” He looks down at his watch. “I have to go. A few of us from the football team are meeting up for drinks to honor Tim. I think coach is gonna retire his jersey.”

“Oh, that would be so nice.” Ma says. “Go on, have a good time with the boys.”

With that, Harry leaves.

“Well, I should get my shit packed and get ready for my flight.” I say.

“So, you’re not leaving any friends or boyfriends behind?” Ma asks.

“I mean, I have friends out there, but I still have friends here. And no, I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend in, like, eight months. I’ve been focusing on myself.”

“That’s good.” Delia chimes in. “Smart. I’ll drive you to the airport. It’ll give us time to catch up.”

“I’d like that.”

**

Two Weeks Later

Three days alone with my mother. It didn’t start off bad. She was happy I rented a U-Haul to hitch to my SUV. I wanted to bring my bed and bedframe home, and it made it easier to pack the U-Haul rather than my car. We stopped for one night and got a motel room. Conversation was surface level, but good. Neither of us wanted to talk about Tim because neither of us wanted to start crying.

We talked about how nice it was that a few of my friends helped me pack all my shit before my mom got there. That led to her asking questions about me not having dated much since my last boyfriend.

“I don’t know, Ma. It was like the more I talked about where I grew up and what I grew up doing, he started to get more condescending. He talked to me like I was simple, like as if I didn’t have an undergraduate degree and a master’s. Any time I asked if he’d come home with me for a holiday, he told me we should go to his family’s. He started mansplaining more and more. I didn’t like it, so I t up with him. He didn’t believe it at first, but I changed my locks, blocked his number, and held firm.”

After telling my mother that story, she told me she was proud of me, and then she started telling me stories about guys she went out with before my dad, and how my dad was a breath of fresh air compared to all those other guys, and how she hopes I’ll find my own breath of fresh air.

As we take the exit off the highway that leads into Hawthorn, she starts fidgeting.

“Honeybee, are you sure you’d rather live in the boy house with Harry? I mean, it’s called ‘The Boy House’, for a reason.”

“It’ll be easier, Ma. Harry and I talked about it. The office is here, we’ll be able to go to the sites together easier. Your house is like half a mile from here.”

“When did you two talk?”

“Last week, he called me and we went over a few things. Why?”

“No reason.” She shrugs. “He just usually keeps me in the loop, that’s all.” I notice her grip the wheel a little tighter. “It’s a little odd to be living with a man you’re not in a relationship with.”

“It’s like having any other kind of roommate.”

“You’ll be sharing that upstairs bathroom.”

“I’m aware.”

“Have you ever shared a bathroom with a man before?”

“Um, yeah, every day when Tim and I were living with you.” I sigh. “Ma, if I really have to go and he’s in there, I’ll go use one of the downstairs bathrooms.”

“What about if he brings a woman home?”

“He’s an adult, he can do whatever he wants.”

“Fine.” She concedes. “If at any time it becomes too much, though, you come home to me and Delia.”

“I will.”

Ma pulls into Black Beauty Ranch, then down the road to the boy house. A ton of people are waiting outside, and there’s a big sign draped along the porch that says, ‘WELCOME HOME, HONEYBEE!’ Times like these, I cherish being from a small town.

“Oh, wow.” I beam as I get out of the car. Sally, Harry and Tim’s executive assistant, is the first to hug me. She’s in her mid-fifties and incredibly sweet.

“Harry and I organized the whole thing.” She tells me. “The ranch hands are here to help. Some of the ladies made food for everyone, plenty to go around. Are all your boxes labeled by room?”

“Of course they are.” I smile.

“Good.” She smiles back at me and kisses my cheek. She looks at Eduardo, the foreman of the ranch hands, and says, “alright, send in the troops!”

Eduardo gives me a big hug after telling the ranch hands to start with the U-Haul.

“We missed you, kid.” He tells me.

“I missed you all too. I’m happy to be home and on the ranch.” A woman comes over to me and gives me a hug.

“Ro, I didn’t get a chance to see you at the funeral, I’m Sarah.”

“Oh! You’re the head of the events team.”

“I am.” She beams. “I was a year below your brother in school. I’m so excited that we’ll be able to work together in person, make all the social media stuff you do even better.”

“Yeah, Harry said I’ll probably be taking over the weekly meeting you have with him. I’m great at project managing. I’m looking forward to working with you too.”

“He said what?” Her smiles falls slightly.

“Well, it’s just that he meets weekly with Sally, and then with Eduardo. It would free up some time for him if I take over your weekly meeting, and I don’t mind. You have others on your team, right? Daryl and Janey, right?”

“Right.” She swallows.

“Sally, where’s Morgan?”

“I sent her off with Harry so I could be here.” Morgan is the admin below Sally. She takes care of more of the day-to-day things like general emails and phone calls. “They had to pick up a few heifers earlier today. They should be back in a bit. He really wanted to be here when you got here, but they couldn’t reschedule the sale.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I get it.” I wave her off. I watch as the ranch hands start bringing boxes into the house. I notice Sarah talking with my mother. My mother looks annoyed, but not with Sarah. She looks annoyed with whatever Sarah just told her.

Hmm. That’s…interesting.

After saying hello to a few more people, I start helping to bring my stuff inside. I’m certainly not going to sit around while everyone does everything.

I’m grateful that so many people made and brought food. We’re all hanging out in the kitchen, stuffing our faces. I told most of the people they could leave once all the boxes were in. I’m not going to let anyone unpack for me. That’s my responsibility. So, it’s just me, Sally, Ma, Eduardo, Sarah, and Delia. Thank fucking God for Delia. I always liked her, and even though she started dating Tim by the time I moved to LA, I still knew of her. She’s just a kind human being. I’m glad she’ll be part of our family again.

“Hello!” I hear Morgan from the mudroom. She comes into the kitchen and squeals. We run towards each other and hug. Morgan and I have been friends forever. I’m glad she’s working at the ranch. “Sorry, I probably smell like cow shit.”

“You don’t.” I laugh. “Are the heifers alright?”

“Yeah, they’re great. Harry’s down at the transition barn, he’ll be up in a few minutes.”

The transition barn is where all the new cattle go to get acquainted with the new surroundings. It’s comfortable and peaceful for the cattle.

“You know,” Morgan says after popping a cherry tomato into her mouth, “he was super anxious all day about getting back here. He really wanted to be part of the warm welcome.”

“He’s sweet like that.” Sally says. “He’s been fretting around the house for the past week making sure everything was in suitable condition for you.”

“Oh, I feel bad. He didn’t have to do anything special for me.” I frown.

“You know Harry.” Eduardo says. “Always looking out for honeybee.” He kisses my temple. “Well, I’m gonna head to my house. My darling wife has plans with her friends, so I need to go take over parent duty.”

“Bye, Ed, thanks so much for your help today.” I give him a hug, and he gives me a good squeeze before heading out.  

“I think it’ll be good if we all get going. Rowan needs time to unpack.” Sally says. “Sarah, come on, I’ll drop you off at your car.”

“No, please don’t go yet! Morgan’s staying to help me unpack my room and stuff. You’re all more than welcome to stay.” I tell them.

“I have a better idea, we’ll all go to Georgette’s.” Delia says. “We’ll have some dessert and coffee. Decaf, obviously.” She chuckles and cups her bump.

“Sounds good to me.” Sally says. “Let’s go, ladies.”

Sarah flashes the fakest smile in my direction, then leaves. My mother gives me a hug and goes out with Delia and Sally.

Morgan and I head up to my room.

“It’s not weird for you to be taking over Tim’s room?” She asks me.

“Nah, Harry actually said he preferred it. It’s better than leaving it like a shrine or turning it into an empty room. Besides, the only other bedrooms up here are at the other end of the hall, and this is the only bathroom up here. I love the Jack and Jill style.” I open the door. “It’s kind of cute that they put in a double vanity. I remember when they first showed us the bathroom layout when they were building it, and my mom point blank asked if they were more than just friends.”

“Ha! I know, they lived like two old ladies who have been ‘special friends’ for thirty years.” Morgan smirks. “Do you think he’ll get freaked out with all the girly stuff in the bathroom?” She looks at my box of products and toiletries.

“He’s a modern man, I don’t think a few razors and bottles of various products is going to be an issue.”

“What did LA do to you? You’re like one of those Tik Tok girls who uses like eight products just to wash their face.”

“Stop making fun of me.” I take the box from her and go into the bathroom. “All of this stuff helps. Now, my mini lazy Susan can go in this corner. That’s what I put all my makeup and brushes on. This little shelf organizer is for my mouth products. And this shelf organizer houses my morning and night time skin care routine products.”

“Why do you need sweat bands?”

“They’re not sweat bands.” I laugh and slide them onto my wrists. “They stop the water from running down my arms when I wash my face.”

“Okay, that’s valid.”

“There we go. Clean and organized and not in the way of his stuff. I love how big the counter is. We won’t even bump elbows if we’re in here at the same time.” We head back into my room and start organizing my closet. “I like to keep things color coordinated, and by type of article. So, all tank tops should be together, and so on.”

“You’re like Danny Tanner.”

“A clean and uncluttered room will keep me calm. It’s something I have control over, if that makes sense.”

“It does.” She nods. “I’ll start on this end with your dresses.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

Many hands make light work. One of the last boxes of clothes is what was in my underwear drawer.

“And who exactly were you wearing this sexy thing for?” She flings a thong at me.

“No one.” I laugh. “I wear them with my leggings.”

“That’s a sex thong.”

“It is not.” I pull out a pair of lace panties. “These are sex panties. The cheeky bottoms are the best for sex. They’re not alluring.” I hold them up to my bikini area. “Don’t you just wanna take these off with your teeth.”

“Um…” she covers her mouth, hiding a laugh. She nods to tell me to look behind me.

I turn around, still holding the panties to my crotch. Harry’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, and a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, hi, Harry.” I can feel my cheeks heating up.

“I can see you’ve settled in.” His smirk grows. “Nice panties.”

“Thanks.” I swallow. “I got them on sale at Victoria’s Secret.”

“Good for you.” He looks down at them, then back up at me. “I think they’ll look a lot better in your dresser drawer.”

“Right.” I ball them up and hold them behind my back.

“Do you need the bathroom? I’m desperate to shower.”

“It’s all yours.”

“Morgan, you should get going. You’re probably exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” She sighs. “I was just waiting until you got in. There’s nothing weirder than being in a new space by yourself. Can’t have my girl feeling lonely.”

“Thanks for all your help.” I tell her and give her a hug.

“Don’t mention it. Night, Har.”

“Night, Morgan.” He watches her leave, then looks at me. “The room alright?”

“Yeah, it feels like my own.”

“Good.” He nods. “And everyone came by and helped? Sally and I organized everything.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“I know, she told me. Everyone was a huge help.”

“Did you, uh, like the banner?”

“I loved it.” I make my way closer, and go to hug him, but he stops me.

“Don’t. Uh…I stink. I’m gonna shower.”

I nod and watch him leave. Even though that was a little awkward, I’m glad he’s home.

I decide to change into an oversized T-shirt and bed shorts, then go downstairs. I never got to have dessert earlier, and I need something sweet.

**

Harry

Any other guy would’ve been freaked out by all the feminine touches Rowan’s added to the bathroom, but I don’t mind. It makes it feel like home again. I was getting sick of only seeing my stuff around. I packed all of Tim’s stuff up and put it in the attic.

The only thing I need to be mindful of is I can’t walk around in just a towel anymore, or only in my briefs. I made sure to buy a ton of pajama pants and T-shirts. There’s a lady in the house now, I can’t be all exposed.

My stomach growls, so after I get dressed, I head down to the kitchen. Rowan’s already there, sitting up on the counter, eating something right out of the container.

“What’s that?” I ask, smirking.

“Oreo trifle.” She says, licking her spoon. “Want some?”

“Maybe in a bit. I need real food first.”

“How are the heifers?”

“Snug as a bug in a rug.” I sigh. “One of them is little, very cute. They’re all for milking and breeding. No slaughtering.”

“Yeah, we just save the slaughtering for the men.” She grins, and I grin back as I grab some Mac n cheese out of the fridge. I grab a fork and eat out of the dish. If she can do it, then so can I.

“God, Sally’s husband makes the best pulled pork Mac.”

“It was a real crowd pleaser. I made sure to save you some.”

“Thanks, honeybee.” I ruffle the hair on the top of her head, and she swats my hand away.

“Don’t.” She whines. “Can I ask you about Sarah?”

“What’s up?”

“That’s what I want to know. I told her you said I’d be taking over the one on ones with her, and she got sort of upset. Do you guys have a secret thing or something?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then what’s her problem with me?”

“Sarah and I dated for, like, a second in high school. We stayed friends afterwards. She’s great at being the head of the events team, an excellent colleague. But, selfishly, I want you to take over the weekly meetings because I don’t always feel comfortable meeting alone with her.”

“Why not?”

“She’s a little bit attached to me.”

“From having a high school romance?”

“Well, I was sort of her…first.”

“First what, boyfriend?”

“No, her first.”

“Kiss?”

“No.”

“I’m at a loss.”

“Rowan, I was the first guy she had sex with.”

“Oh! Oh my God, I totally forgot people actually had sex in high school.”

“You didn’t?” I don’t know why I’m so surprised.

“No, I was way too scared of getting pregnant and having to drop out. I didn’t have sex until I was nineteen, and on birth control.”

“And somewhere that Tim couldn’t scare off any boyfriends.”

“That too.” She nods. “How old were you?”

“I don’t know, fifteen?”

“That means Sarah was fourteen!”

“What? No.” I laugh. “I was seventeen when I had sex with her, and she was sixteen.”

“You were having sex with multiple people?”

“Well, yeah. Who was gonna stop me, my granny?” I smirk. I seem to be doing a lot of that with Rowan.

“Good point.” She scoops some more trifle onto her spoon, but before she can bring it to her mouth, I snatch her wrist and take the spoonful into my own. “Hey.” She pouts.

She locks eyes with me, and I take the spoon from her. “This is good. Who made it?”

“No idea.”

I shrug and go in for more, but instead of eating it, I hold up the spoon to her mouth, and she takes the dessert into her mouth. She takes the spoon from me, and I lean both of my hands on the counter on either side of her hips. She feeds me another scoop. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to her before. I can see every little freckle that’s speckled over her nose and cheeks. I stick my finger in the trifle and smear it onto the tip of her nose before standing up straight.

“What’d you do that for?” She laughs.

“I don’t know, felt like it.”

“Ohhhh, okay.” She takes the spoon, that’s full of trifle, and presses it onto my nose so it stays there.

I take a deep breath and remove the spoon. I pick up the container and reach for her head. She squeals and hops down from the counter.

“What’s the matter? I just wanna talk.” I say.

“No, you want to shove my face into that.”

“No, really, I just wanna talk.” She races to the fridge and pulls out a pie. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“I don’t know.” She walks towards me. “You tell me.”

“Alright, Baker, drop the pie, and no one has to get hurt.”

“Drop that trifle first, Styles.”

“We’ll put them both down on three. One, two, thr-“

“Harry, what’s that?!”

“What?!” I look behind myself and don’t see anything. I turn back to her and then…chocolate cream pie is being thrusted into my face. “Rowan.” I say lowly, wiping pie out of my eyes. “I literally just showered.”

“Guess you’ll have to spend extra time on your skin care routine.” She snatches the trifle from me and puts it back in the fridge.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m so glad you’re here.” I open my arms. “Come give me a hug.”

“No way.” She laughs.

“Come on.” I start walking towards her.

“Harry!” She squeals and I snatch her just in time, and I rub my cheeks all over hers. “Stop, stop!” She laughs, and that’s when I start tickling her sides. “I tap out!” I let her go and wipe my face with my shirt. “Gross.”

“Welp, you’re in the boy house now, darlin’.” I make sure to add my best country accent, and she pushes my shoulder. “Get used to it.”

“Ugh, come on.” She takes my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom.” She tugs me upstairs and into our newly shared bathroom. “Sit.” She pushes me to sit on the lidded toilet. Then, she pushes some sort of head band onto me to pull my hair back. “I’m doing myself first. You can sit there and wait.” She puts an identical headband on, along with two sweatbands on her wrists.

“Sweatbands?”

“Oh my God, Morgan said the same thing. They’re not sweatbands, they help make it so water doesn’t run down my arms.” She flips the hot water on and dabs at her face with a washcloth.

“How many products do you use?”

“Well, first, I fully wash my face.” She does so, and I watch her. “Then, I pat dry. Once the skin is dry, I use a cotton pad and rub cleanser onto my skin, followed by toner.”

“And what do those do?”

“Cleanse the skin-“

“Didn’t you just do that?”

“No, I exfoliated. You exfoliate and then you cleanse. The toner helps with pigmentation and scarring.” She dabs it onto her skin. “Lastly, a light, oil free, nighttime moisturizer.” She fans her face afterwards. She sits up on the counter, then gestures for me to come to her. “Okay.” She dips a new washcloth into the hot water in the sink, then presses it to my face, over and over, getting it wet. Then, she pumps her exfoliant into her hands, rubs them together, and starts working it into my face. “Close your eyes.”

“Sorry.” I close them and try to relax. It feels kind of good to have her massaging my face.

“I’m draining your lymph nodes.” She explains. “Feels good, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You should really get a professional facial done sometime. They’re life changing.”

“Hey, honeybee?” She hums her response. “You’re not in LA anymore.”

“I’m well aware.” She dips the washcloth into the water and starts rinsing my face. “There are spas in Hawthorn.”

“I’d have to go out of town.”

“That can be arranged.” She pats my face dry with a cloth, then starts putting the cleanser on with a cotton pad, followed by the toner. “Some time you should let me put one of those blackhead strips over your nose after a shower.”

“Is it that bad?”

“No, but it wouldn’t hurt to do it occasionally. With all the sunscreen you wear, and all the dirt from the ranch, your pores get clogged like crazy.” She rubs the moisturizer into her hands, then spreads it over my face. “There, all clean.”

“Wow.” I look at myself in the mirror. “M’all glowy.”

“Yup.”

“Are you gonna do this for me every night?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, kinda.” I can’t help but laugh.

“Then you can pitch in for the products. I’m happy to help you with skincare. Just wait until the morning routine.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes.” I take the headband off. “Is it okay to brush my teeth now, or will that throw everything off?”

“Don’t sass me.” She hops down and grabs her toothbrush. “Brush away.”

We take care of the rest in a comfortable silence, lingering after we’re done.

“Well, I guess…this is goodnight.”

“Did you finish unpacking your room? Do you need help with anything else?”

“Just putting away clothes. All my furniture is built and in place. You’re probably exhausted.���

“I’ve caught a second wind. I’ll come hang out while you finish. You’ll feel better if it’s all done tonight.” I follow her into her bedroom. “Any other lingerie you wanna show me?” I ask as I lay back on her bed, crossing my arms behind my head.

“Very funny.” She rolls her eyes with a smile. “I don’t have a ton of frilly things.” She bends over and picks up a ton of socks to put in her top drawer. I decide to sit up and see what other boxes she has. There’s one that’s labeled, ‘bedside table’, so I open it. I want to be helpful. I notice her double take as I rip the tape open. “Harry, wait!”

“What?” I look down and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Don’t you know that a woman’s bedside table is filled with her…goodies?!”

“Jesus, look at this thing.” I pull out a rather large, purple, silicon dildo. The internal end has ridges on it, and the external attachment is diamond shaped. I’ve never seen one like this before. “This is huge, it actually fits in you?”

“Don’t touch it!” She snatches it, and the box, from me, putting it back in. “Weirdo.”

“We’re adults.” I lean back on my hands. “It’s a bonding experience for us as roommates. Now answer my question.”

“Of course it fits in me. It’s my favorite one. It’s called a g-thumper. The inside thumps and vibrates against my…my spot.”

“Why is the external part diamond shaped? I’ve only ever seen rabbit ears, or those ones that are for suction.”

“It…Harry, this is embarrassing.”

“Just answer the question.”

“It kind of slips between and under the hood, so everything gets stimulated. It vibrates.”

“Ohhhhh.” I nod. “Cool. What else do you have in there?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“You shoved a pie in my face. Show me your goodies.”

“Why? So if you hear me you’ll have a better picture for your imagination?”

“Don’t be gross. I’m not a voyeur.”

“You’re only a voyeur if you’re watching.”

“Whatever, you know what I mean. Come on, teach me what women actually like to use. You just did the same thing with the skincare. You have to unpack the box regardless.”

“Fine.” She kneels on the floor and opens her bedside table drawer. “I have organizers for them and their chargers. I already put those in. Okay, so you’ve met big purple. This one is just for internal use, it thrusts on its own.” She holds up a pink silicon dildo. “And this one is just for external use, but I can never get it to work right, and takes too much effort to use, but it’s nice to use with a partner.”

“Why with a partner?”

“So the guy can focus on the fucking.” She closes the top drawer, then opens the bottom one. “Here’s my toy cleaner. And my different lubes. There, are you happy now?”

“Yup, very.” I lay back down with my arms crossed behind my head. “Continue on with your clothes.”

“Gee, thanks.” She shakes her head. “What toys do you use?”

“I don’t use any on myself.”

“Really?”

“Well, not when I’m alone.”

“Now, why is it okay for you to use one with a partner, but not me?”

“It’s not that it’s not okay, I just don’t think a lady should have to worry about getting herself off. That’s the man’s job. He should be in charge of the toy. Or at least telling you where to use it.”

“Harry?” She sits on the end of the bed.

“Hm?”

“You know what’s nice about not being related to you?”

“No, tell me.”

“I could never have a conversation like this with Tim. It would be weird. I…I was really hoping for us to grow closer with me moving here, really be friends, you know? Even though I’m still five years younger than you, that age difference doesn’t feel so big anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Do you think…I mean, I can’t talk to my mom about Tim, she’ll get sad in a way I can’t even comprehend, but do you think if it’s a particularly hard day that I could come to you, and we could talk about Tim?”

“I’d like that.” I sit up and give her shoulder a squeeze. “I don’t like talking to your mom about him either. It would be nice to have someone to talk to.”

“I’m really glad you’re letting me live here with you.”

“I never would have said no. It’s been so quiet these last two weeks, I’m really glad you’re here.”

She throws her arms around me, and I wrap mine around her. I feel my neck getting wet, she’s crying.

“Sorry.” She lets go of me and wipes her tears.

“Don’t be.” I cup her cheeks and rub her tears away with my thumbs. “It’s okay to cry.”

“Harry…could I ask you to do me a massive favor? It’s going to seem really childish, and you can feel free to say no, but…would you lay with me until I fall asleep? I always have trouble sleeping in a new space for the first time.”

“Yeah, I can lay with you.”

“Thank you.” She leans in and I turn my face, her lips pecking my cheek.

“Go on, get under the blankets.”

She nods and crawls to the other side of the bed. I’m not planning to sleep in here the whole night, so I don’t bother getting under the blankets with her. I turn the light off, and keep my arms crossed behind my head. Rowan cuddles up next to me and rests her head on my chest. I let one of my arms fall around her.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Rowan.”

**

[hanasnx]

tw vent below. death of a friend

today would’ve been my best friend’s twenty fourth birthday. i remember when i heard she was in the hospital. and how my busy schedule prevented me from getting out there to visit. i thought it was going to be a routine thing, and she’d be out in a day. she stayed off her phone for the most part, but we still played games like eight ball. and she thanked me for keeping her company.

i remember the day i got the call while i was on the way to take my dog to the vet. my dog was severely sick, my job was up my ass, and when i told them i’d be late, i had no idea the news i was going to receive an hour later.

jay had passed away. and i never thought it would happen. i was maybe nineteen years old, having had this friend for my high school years and on, i had expected to grow old together. for a chunk of my life jay was more than an important person and dear friend to me, she was part of my family. birthdays, christmases, every hang out and every party, we were together. jay introduced me to my friend group that became part of that family and then my eventual roommates.

she opened up so many doors for me, but she also taught me a whole lot about being a person. about having an identity. about being real. i still see galaxy patterned items and think of jay first, i see her in crystals and wood beads and i still smell her shampoo. i eat what she would’ve eaten on her birthday, what we would’ve shared. i get boba and i try to get pho and i think it’s for her too.

i remember the emptiness in my grandfather’s eyes when i told him she died from covid-19 as he’d gone on and on about how its not a real thing and no one needs to wear a mask. my friend, my age, had died from it. and he didn’t even say sorry.

i remember my brother told me that he didn’t even recall my loss, even though he was one of the first people i confided in about it.

i remember my mom came to the funeral with me when i wasn’t strong enough to go alone. my mom who had seen my journey with jay up until the end. my mom who cried hearing jay’s mom sob into the shoulder of her sister. my mom who held my hand until it was my turn to speak.

i remember my boyfriend supported me through it all even though we had only been dating four months. he didn’t run scared when i went through one of my worst experiences, he held me through it and showed me i could trust him through genuine despair. through hopeless depression. through bone aching cries.

i cant remember the last time i got to hang out with jay, but i remember the last time i saw her. and how it was in passing, and how we yelled at each other from far away about how we were gonna make plans, that i missed her. and then the last time we spoke was over text. i didn’t even get to see her in the hospital.

i thought working today or acting like everything was cool or normal would help. i thought staying busy would mean i could avoid her birthday while spending appropriate time to celebrate it later, but grief is not on a schedule, and i regretted taking a shift. i was spacey, and ill-equipped to handle fast pacing. i was prone to irritation and impatience. and as soon as i got to the safety of my home i broke. my friend is dead. i’ve seen her urn. the body i hugged isn’t here anymore even though i can still feel the shape of her in my arms.

she never got to live on her own like she wanted to, she never got a place to be herself like she wanted to, she never got to be free like she wanted to. maybe now, after shes passed, shes gotten the peace that she deserved.

my favorite thing about her was how much we’d laugh. i experienced pure joy when i was with jay, and she was my first real friend. i don’t think there will ever be a time in my life when she isn’t with me. happy birthday jay.

[achildsfirstsorrow]

hi! i think leontide is really cool, her art is so pretty & the writing is interesting -- could you share a bit more about her? (:

Hi! sorry I didn’t answer this earlier,, I was either asleep or busy ;_;…

But yes I can!!

((I kind of base my POTO writing around it being set in 1880 just because that’s easier than specifying if it’s about 1878-1885 or whatever haha.. ALSO if you wanna scroll there's an incredibly lazy TL;DR and art.))

SO. ONTO LEONTINE! This is going to be cut short but it is STILL rather long.

She was born about 1855 – making her about twenty five during the events of POTO in Grigny (sort of near Paris, about thirteen miles.) She also didn’t live as long.. She lived to be about twenty seven in the main version of her story, but forty in an alternative one. 

Her full name is Leontine Vaillancourt // Leontine Charbonnier depending on which ver of her story! She worked as a stagehand (or atleast did) for a period of around three years (22-25) along with Joseph Buquet. This was because Joseph took her in and gave her a place to stay when she was 18, after meeting her in an inn. 

Buquet basically acted as a friend and brother figure to her (I refuse to make him nasty sorry Buquet haters i’m going to parry you.) up until his death, since both of them could share the (small) income they made with their separate jobs, Buquet obviously working on the stages and Leon working as a maid outside of the Opera House for a few years, until Buquet managed to find her a job as a seamstress and stagehand.

Because I am terrible and believe in making OCxCanon that annoys people! Yes, she’s shipped with Erik and it is not fun and happy. 

Onto how she actually MET Erik, she met him around when she worked with Buquet, because she nearly knocked him out with a weight for the stage backdrops (very cliched I know but..) and had to help a very dazed Erik out – she mistook him for someone who just frequented the Opera instead, despite the rumours about the Opera Ghost stuff which she thought was nonsense DESPITE Buquet trying to tell her that they were true. 

She sort of became acquainted with Erik after Joseph dying, and whilst it wasn’t really a friendship or anything he did see her as a basic needs to an end (because no I won’t make Erik a nice person muahahah.) 

Erik didn’t let on that he had killed him when the events of POTO basically started, and Leontine still thought he was just a rich Opera-goer, so didn’t question too much. Mostly because she was grieving, and due to the fact to cope with said grief she turned to alcohol and other means a lot. 

Due to Erik obviously setting his sights on Christine and stuff, he basically chose to view Leontine as someone he could - for lack of a better phrasing - get what he couldn’t get from Christine from. Erik being a massive asshole, took advantage of the fact she would be drunk sometimes (Not sexual advantage. Thanks.) to get pity from Leon and manipulated her emotionally a LOT. 

However she wasn’t very nice either – and treated Erik with a lot of disregard etc etc, use the fact he was a lot richer to basically extort what she wanted from him etc. 

Eventually she killed herself and there’s a lot more until then but that was ALSO Erik’s fault, as much as I love Erik I refuse to be nice. 

There’s a lot more but here’s some stuff that scrapes it, since i’d be here for much longer trying to explain it. 

TL;DR :

Leontine born in 1850s in poorer part of France

Moved to Paris in late teens/ early 20s

Stayed with Joseph Buquet and worked at Opera House

Became a stagehand

Joseph died

Met Erik via nearly killing him by accident

Sought him out after a while and started very very messy ‘relationship’

Sang and did some performance stuff for a while

  Fuckin’ died.

Also she's a ginger. sorry world.

I have a bunch of art of her, but it's pretty old and I need to redraw it.. so you'll get that soon ya'll sorry. Here's some old doodles anyway though;

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Elrond and Gil Galad short fic

Gil Galad was stirred from his paperwork by a dagger imbedding itself into his desk. He had already started the ridiculously familiar phrase of ‘Elrond,knives, we’ve talked about this’ when he looked up at Elrond’s face and stopped. He tried to discreetly see the piece of paperwork that had been slammed onto his desk with said knife. Ah. So this was how he died.

‘What,’ Elrond’s voice was calm and pleasant sounding yet still managed to shake with rage, ‘Is this piece of bigoted bile that lies before me, and why may I ask is your seal beside it.’ He should have been expecting this he supposes. He tries to offer an explanation but is intercepted instantly by Elrond’s voice rattling off the contents of the cursed document as if he were talking about the weather. ‘It has been passed into law that for the purpose of diplomacy, any members of Lindon’s diplomatic delegation may be denied participation on any embassy based on possible offence to the customs of the people in question’. ‘That’s only a summary of it there are numerous clauses-’, but he stopped knowing it was fruitless.

‘This is an invitation to put numerous elleths and members of same sex relationships out of the job and you know it,’ he stated as if Gil Galad hadn’t said anything, accompanied by a glare that contained somehow more threat than the fact that Elrond’s hand was still resting on the hilt of the dagger. ‘ Its plausible that you might have thought you could slide it by without raising too much public awareness, you are generally capable of discretion, but the idea that you thought I wouldn’t find out about it is laughable.’ This is perfectly true. He knows that through various back channels and connections in every faction little goes on in the world that Elrond doesn’t find out about. He’d never had this work against him before, it had helped him on numerous matters before and cut down the time needed to explain things, but then he’d never tried to conceal something from him before.

‘And why would you not want me to know? I refuse to believe I could be so poor a judge of character to support a king who held this kind of prejudice so why wouldn’t you let me help you work around it?’ he looked betrayed now and made Gil Galad feel sick to his stomach. He knew how much work had been needed to get any sort of trust from the Peredhel, with good reason considering how most of his relationships with his family had gone. The idea that he could have undone that progress was terrifying. He knew lying would make the situation so much worse and so finally decided the truth was his only hope.

‘There was significant pressure from the Numenoreans on the matter. They threatened to cut of all links and we need them Elrond. We would not have won without them and you’ve told me yourself we’ll need them again.’ Elrond went very still for a moment and when he spoke his voice was slow and dangerous ‘Do you realise, how much worse that makes it’. ‘Elros,’ and there it was the word that had been left unsaid but very much present in so many conversations ‘Has been dead for over a century’. And now this conversation was in the most dangerous territory yet, ‘I am insulted that you think I am too emotionally compromised to offer council on an entire country because my brothers descendants have adopted some messed up ideologies. What did you think I was going to do when I heard hmm? Were you worried I’d fling myself off a cliff? Sail away and never come back?’. ‘You can’t plan to convince me you’ve healed from all of it. I know you better than that.’ ‘Well I thought you did! Don’t you think if I was planning to do any of those things I’d have done them by now? I’ve had a century without Elros and numerous points over my life in much worse positions than I am now and I’m still here aren’t I? I’m not going anywhere anytime soon I’d appreciate not being treated like I’m so delicate I’ll break at any moment.’

‘Your right. I’m sorry, I should never have signed it and I certainly should have concealed it from you. I broke your trust and I understand if you hate me for it.’ he reached out and took his hand looking into his herald’s eyes unflinchingly. The anger had almost evaporated leaving a weariness and pain that had been beneath all the Peredhel’s actions of late. But there was strength as well. So much strength made even more so with the pain. He felt that the eyes were looking into his very soul and seeing all of it more clearly than he himself could. Knowing Elrond he probably was.

But Elrond must have been satisfied by what he saw because he released his hand to straighten his robes and spoke ‘Good. Well I suppose we should get to work than at reversing this thing. May sway in Numenorean politics is clearly not what it used to be but it is not nothing. If we pull on the right connections I think we can devise a strategy to reverse this thing without anyone being the wiser.’

And Gil Galad breathed a sigh of relief. Why he would ever think he could manage this without Elrond he didn’t know. They fell into their old routine and in a few weeks it was as if nothing had happened. He was seriously questioning how his guards hadn’t noticed the dagger though.

[daydreamerdrew]

Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

Mythos: Captain America (2008) #1

This one-shot was published in June 2008, according to the Marvel Wiki. It was written by Paul Jenkins and painted by Paolo Rivera.

There was a lot that I liked in this story. Steve says, when describing his upbringing, “I got sick a lot. And it often seemed like there was no running away from that place except in the pages of a fantasy novel.” There’s a scene where his ill mother told him to eat his soup with carrots in it because carrots are good for your memory and he complained, “Why would I want to remember this? I’d just as soon forget.” This was surprising to me because there’s so much emphasis on memory with Steve’s character because he’s a man in the wrong time. Steve’s mother told him, “I want you to remember. Always be proud of who you are and where you came from. Never forget the people who helped you get to where you’re going.” That ended up being their last conversation before she died.

I also appreciated the new-to-me detail about Steve’s journey in his first year in Captain America, where the switch from being Captain America to pretending to be a lowly private at Camp Lehigh was difficult for him. Steve describes becoming an “icon” and a “symbol,” then says, “And so, with the weight of a nation’s altruistic rebirth hanging over my head… they shipped me off to basic training at Camp Lehigh in Virginia.” There’s a scene of him going through training and being called “worthless,” “useless,” “brainless,” and “gutless.” There’s a disconnect for Steve, being in the regiment he’d originally wanted to be in, but having to maintain a ruse and only do safe and simple jobs apart from the group and only truly work when he’d sneak off and be Captain America. Steve says, “Part of me yearned for the normalcy of the barracks, the camaraderie. But the truth could never be known.” This leads directly into the scene of Bucky stumbling into discovering Steve’s secret identity and becoming Captain America’s partner, providing a new angle for the significance of that relationship for Steve.

This story also provided the first good explanation I’ve seen for why Bucky would have entered Steve’s tent in the middle of the night; he was coming to tell Steve that Japan had attacked Pearl Harbor and the U.S. would now be joining WWII.

I also liked the repetition of the question asked after Steve was enhanced by the super soldier serum- “I was put through the most rigorous training imaginable in order to answer the most obvious question: What had I become?”-after Steve woke up from the ice, “I asked myself an old question: What had I become?”

What this story did really well was emphasize how much Steve cared for and mourned all of the ordinary soldiers he fought beside. At one point he says, “In battle, one learns a certain kind of calm as an alternative to the fear that dominates every moment. I could never find that elusive calm. It hurt too much to watch my brothers ripped apart by fire from a 10mm cannon, or shrapnel. The boys didn’t have the benefit of super-soldier serum to help them dodge a bullet.” At another he reflects on watching a “flood of troops” and says, “These were our own boys, come to right grave injustice far from home. I never felt so proud to be an American as I did at that moment.” Steve claims that, “The real heroes were the boys I once knew who feared for their lives, yet fought for freedom anyway.” This includes, “Micky Smith: Stayed on the beaches of Normandy, forever twenty-three.” In his ending monologue Steve says, “I’m Captain America, and I will be here long after the others are dead and gone. But as long as I live, I will never forget. […] We were boys once. We were young and stupid.” And the final words of the story are Steve visiting one last remaining, now elderly, soldier that he knew and saying, “God, Dougie… I miss those boys.”

the Captain America stories in Tales of Suspense (1959) #96-99 and Captain America (1968) #100

In this batch of stories and issue I went from August 1967 to January 1968, according to the Marvel Wiki. All were written by Stan Lee and penciled by Jack Kirby. The stories in Tales of Suspense #96-98 were inked by Joe Sinnott. The story in Tales of Suspense #99 and Captain America #100 were inked by Syd Shores. The story in Tales of Suspense #96 was 10 pages, the rest were 11 pages, and the Captain America issue was 20 pages since starting there Steve is no longer splitting a book with Iron Man.

In the preceding story, in Tales of Suspense #95, Steve quit being Captain America and also publicly revealed his secret identity, citing frustration with obligation to duty after Sharon Carter turned down his proposal because her work obligations were too important for her to get married. By the end of the story in Tales of Suspense #96 Steve has decided to become Captain America again, which was frustrating to me because I was genuinely interested in seeing him attempt to flesh out Steve Rogers, his personal life having long been neglected. As it is, the quick turnaround in mentality with the irrevocable consequence of no longer having a secret identity gives the impression of a kind of episode to me, as did Steve’s excitement to propose to a woman he didn’t know the name of in the previous story.

In the story in Tales of Suspense #97 Steve is being targeted by villains and he thinks, “It seems that I’ll never be truly safe! Never able to let my guard down for an instant! But, it’s the price I must pay for being- Captain America! A price I’ll never stop paying- for as long as I live!” It’s suggested to him that he get out of the city for while but he declines, partially because Sharon might call him because she needs his help.

In the story in Tales of Suspense #98 Steve thinks, “How many years has it been- since I’ve had a home? And, how many years will it be- before I can call any place ‘home’- before I too can find a life- and a love- of my own?”

In the story in Tales of Suspense #99 Steve must fight against Zemo’s old pilot, who is pretending to be Zemo, mysteriously still alive. One of his henchmen says, “Zemo was right! He said the very sight of him would shock the shield-carrying American into total helplessness!” But Steve declares, “I won’t die in vain- not while you remain alive!” Part of his motivation is that, “It was you who killed my partner, Bucky.” But Steve realizes that he’s not really Zemo in Captain America #100, and then his henchmen, who were also duped, turn on him.

Captain America #100 also contained a retelling of Steve’s backstory of being woken up in the future in The Avengers (1963) #4, which was standard practice for the first issue of these self-titled Marvel books launched in 1968.

In the story in Tales of Suspense #97 Sharon had wanted Steve to join her for a mission. At this point they hadn’t interacted since she turned down his marriage proposal. She thinks, “Now I must think of nothing- except my mission! Although, it would have been so wonderful, if only- No! I can’t- mustn’t keep wishing- and dreaming like this!” Still she concludes, “If only I could tell him- if only he could know- whatever may happen- whatever my fate- my last thoughts were of- Captain America- the only man I’ve ever loved!”

I appreciated that in Captain America #100 Dum Dum Dugan says, of the mission success, “It figgers!- Agent Thirteen wuz on the job!” And that when he acknowledges that it was ‘touch and go’ at points, Nick Fury responds, “Yeah- But that little gal ain’t never let us down yet!”

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #280

This issue was published in November 1982, according to the Marvel Wiki. It was written by Bill Mantlo, penciled by Sal Buscema, and inked by Andy Mushynsky.

DC Comics:

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #6-10

These issues were published across March 1990 to July 1990, according to the Grand Comics Database. All were written by Grant Morrison and drawn by Klaus Janson. This was the “Gothic: A Romance” storyline.

The previous storyline mostly took place 6 months after Bruce became Batman, with some scenes before that. It seems that the format of this book is continuing in chronological order, with each subsequent story having Bruce a bit further in his career. In that story the Batcave was just beginning to be created, but in this one it is much larger and has a lot more equipment in it.

A recurring detail that I liked in this storyline was Bruce forgoing food to work as Batman. In issue #6 Alfred brings Bruce food while he’s brooding in his home and Bruce says, “No thank you, Alfred. I won’t have anything tonight. I’m going out.” In issue #8 he tells Alfred, as he leaves the Batcave in costume, “And Alfred, cancel the pecking duck I ordered for this evening. I won’t be home for dinner.” There’s also a scene in issue #9 where that Bruce, in his Batman costume, is eating the food Alfred brought him as they discuss the main mystery is very prominent, with close-ups emphasizing it.

I also enjoyed the ominous tone of the scene in issue #6 where criminals summon Batman with the first Bat-Signal to ask for his help. Bruce’s anger that they would summon him and the dramatic way he spoke, his usual way of speaking to criminals, was reminiscent of a mystical demon-summoning gone wrong.

And speaking of that he’s normally very dramatic when talking to criminals, like he’s reading from a prepared script, I enjoyed the writing of Bruce’s characterization as Batman in these issues, the times which he slipped into a more casual manner of speaking, which worked well because they weren’t the norm.

I also liked the addition to Bruce’s backstory that as a child he was briefly sent to a boarding school with an unhealthy environment- he described in issue #7 that, “It was traditional to live in fear of bullying prefects. It was traditional to be beaten and humiliated and to fight off the advances of degenerate old teachers with doctorate degrees.”- and that one of the teachers there was a serial killer of children that was planning to kill Bruce next until Thomas Wayne intervened. In issue #9 Bruce remembers his father arriving “like a knight in armor” after he called his dad for help, and describes him as pale-faced after speaking to the teacher. In the present the serial killer tells Bruce, “Your father suspected. He knew that I’d killed those children. He saw through me as though I were made of glass. He would have exposed me if blind fate hadn’t intervened.” I think it’s a compelling incident for Bruce to have had in his childhood, and I like the problems of Gotham being portrayed as going that far back. Though I don’t like that this is so immediately tied to Bruce’s parents’ death, with the night Bruce returns home from boarding school being the same night they go out to that ill-fated movie showing, in the same way I don’t like it when flashback WWII Captain America stories are said to take place right before his final mission when he got frozen in ice. Also, this reminded me of the story “Flesh Made World” from Let Them Live!: Tales from the DC Vault (2021) #3, written by Scott Bryan Wilson and drawn by John Paul Leon, where it’s revealed that a bookbinder at a library that was significant to Bruce in his youth was killing people and using their skin to bind books. That story, in which Bruce is very confused because he’s been drugged, also had a very ‘magical realism’ feel to it to me.

And regarding this “gothic” storyline’s magical feel, Bruce’s discussions of the evidence he has throughout this book have a very fated feeling to them. In issue #9 Bruce cites that cathedral architectural design functions as a “transmitter, aimed towards god” and suggests that, “If architecture could be used to focus and direct spiritual power, then… then… Could it also be used for evil?” To me this would be an unhinged leap of logic if it didn’t turn out to be completely correct; the villain explains later in issue #9 that “I measured my shadow with this magic cord and by that act trapped by soul within the twine,” and is planning to commit mass murder in the cathedral and offer the souls to the devil in order to save his own soul. In issue #8 Bruce accidentally plays a tape of his father and gets pointed in a direction for his current case from it, which he justifies as, “If I can’t trust my father, who can I trust?” Then in issue #9 he says, “My father knew something. That’s why I’ve been dreaming about him.” This, of course, is also actually true.

In issue #10 Bruce is sent in the mail, presumably by the devil himself, the heart of the serial killer. When Alfred sees this he asks, “Shall I alert the tin-man, sir?” referencing the character who was in search of a heart in The Wizard of Oz.

I noted before that I liked the ending of preceding storyline, where at the beginning Bruce had been nonplussed by the accidental death of a killer he’d been tracking; but that at the end when they reunite and fight again and the man is accidentally fatally wounded, Bruce is kind to him in his final moments and says, “Rest in peace.” At the end of this story Bruce takes the heart of the long-lived killer to the lake where it’s said one of his first victims still roams, “searchingly endlessly for her tormentor,” and throws it in to her, saying, “You’re free. Go in peace.”

I also really liked how the final words of this story were, repeating from the abbot’s telling of a legend to Bruce in issue #7, “But these are only stories,” which feels applicable to the entire storyline and the character. The line is the abbot reminding Batman that the tale is merely superstition, but clearly he and Bruce felt strongly about it.

Flashpoint (2011) #1-5

These issues were published across May 2011 to August 2011, according to the DC Wiki. All were written by Geoff Johns and penciled by Andy Kubert. Issues #1-3 were inked by Sandra Hope, issue #4 was inked by Jesse Delperdang, and issue #5 was inked by Sandra Hope and Jesse Delperdang.

This was my first time reading this book; I read Flashpoint: Batman - Knight of Vengeance (2011) #1-3 a while ago. Also with that character I’ve read all but the last couple of issues of Tom King’s Batman (2016) run, Infinite Frontier (2021) #0-6, and Justice League Incarnate (2022) #1-5. I think the main thing left with this character for me is Flashpoint Beyond (2022) #0-6.

This book worked really well for me. I went into it already liking Flashpoint Thomas Wayne’s character concept, but Barry Allen’s journey was also well done. I already knew the twist coming up, but I thought a good job was done of building up to it without being too obvious. I liked Barry’s conflict of wanting his original, less doomed world back, while also feeling guilty about erasing the one he was currently in with the versions of the people living in it. I already knew about Thomas’ lack of attachment to his life and to his world; it was interesting to see it in action at this critical time. Despite that everything blew up at the end, this world wasn’t that dystopic to me in its status quo, in comparison to something like All-Star Batman and Robin, the Boy Wonder (2005), but I think it worked better that, despite the flaws, there were likable people in this world. I liked the ultimately personal stakes, where Thomas was pushing Barry primarily because he wanted his son to live. Thomas telling Barry that he was sorry about his mother and Barry and Bruce’s shared grief at the end got to me. Also, I was pleasantly surprised by the portrayal of the Shazam kids, who had more of a presence in the book than I expected. I wish the portrayal of them in the actual New 52 reboot had been more like this.

Fawcett Comics:

the Captain Marvel stories in Whiz Comics (1940) #88 and Captain Marvel Adventures (1941) #75 and The Marvel Family (1945) #14

In this batch of 7 stories I read the Captain Marvel appearances published in August 1947, according to the issue cover dates. The stories ranged from 7 to 11 pages.

The story “The Marvel Family in Captain Marvel- Invalid” (written by Bill Woolfolk; drawn by Pete Constanza) in The Marvel Family #14 has a very cute premise where Captain Marvel is diagnosed as having high blood pressure and needing to avoid any kind of excitement, lest he die, and Junior and Mary Marvel keep this a secret from him and try to discourage him from using his powers and handle crimes for him, making Captain Marvel and Billy Batson think that they’re jealous of Captain Marvel. At the beginning of the story Junior and Mary Marvel arrive after Captain Marvel has taken down a criminal gang, and Junior says, “There’s never much real work for us to do while you’re around!” And Mary Marvel agrees, “I’ll say!” After hearing of his diagnosis, Junior tells the doctor, “Please don’t tell Captain Marvel!” And Mary Marvel says, “The shock might kill him! We’ll make sure he gets the best of attention!” Later when the group sees a child endangered Mary Marvel holds Captain Marvel back and tells him, “It’s time you let us do something,” while Junior saves the little girl. Later Billy passively aggressively says on his radio show, “And in closing, folks, I’d like to add a word about jealousy! It never pays to be jealous of anyone!” The next time Captain Marvel tries to go out and fight crime, Mary Marvel goes out in his stead and Junior is tasked with keeping him calm and occupied. When Captain Marvel does finally fight, the kids panic, delineating their tasks so that Mary Marvel finishes up the crime-fighting while Junior forcibly carries Captain Marvel to the doctor. When it’s said Captain Marvel will need a blood transfusion, Junior quickly agrees to help, though Mary Marvel arrives in time to protest, “No! Take me!” Of course, in the end it’s determined that Captain Marvel’s blood pressure issue was a misdiagnosis.

The story “Captain Marvel and the Yeast Menace” (written by Otto Binder; drawn by Pete Constanza) in Captain Marvel Adventures #75 had a unique closing message. In the story a yeast experiment goes awry, causing the city to be threatened to be overtaken by an ever-growing yeast, until it’s revealed that it’s actually mitigated by water. Then the president of the ACME Chemical Corporation arrives, offering to buy the formula for this miraculous yeast, knowing that they can prevent it from getting out of control with water. And Billy says of this, “Many of our scientific discoveries only seem to be a menace until they are used for peaceful purposes!”

Ahoy Comics:

The Wrong Earth (2018) #1-6

These issues were published across September 2018 to February 2019, according to the League of Comic Geeks. The main stories were all written by Tom Peyer, penciled by Jamal Igle, and inked by Juan Castro. Issues #1-3 also had 5-page back-up stories about Earth-Alpha Stinger, styled like Golden Age comics, written by Paul Constant and drawn by Tom Feister. And issues #4-6 had 7-page back-up stories about Earth-Omega Dragonfly, styled like edgy modern comics, written by Paul Constant and drawn by Erskine. Note that I wrote those before reading The Wrong Earth: Night & Day (2021), so this is reflective of my thoughts just after reading this book.

I read this book years ago and remembered the gist of it and some specific parts but not everything; I think it worked even better for me with the added context of the prequel book Dragonfly & Dragonflyman (2019) #0-5. To a lesser extent the Earth-Alpha parts of that book, I think that world is simple enough that we understand it from what we see of it in this book, other than that for me the status quo of their ordinary times raises the question of how Earth-Omega Dragonfly will continue to function in that world. But the dynamic depicted there between Earth-Omega Dragonfly and his original Stinger adds a lot to his grief and his dynamic with Earth-Alpha Stinger here.

In Dragonfly & Dragonflyman Richard isn’t aware of what’s going on in Chip’s mind until it’s too late and their relationship is irrevocably damaged and Chip is moving out. Richard does speak harshly to Chip, but even when he doesn’t mean to hurt Chip’s feelings Chip is hurt anyway. Chip is clearly unwell and needs help that he’s not getting. In issue #5 when Richard walks in on what he thinks is Chip attempting suicide (Chip was actually removing a tracking device Richard secretly implanted in him so that he could move out and not be followed) he responds with anger and exclaims, “I can’t handle this. You need treatment. I’m not qualified to deal with-” This, and every other time he talks to Chip, is a far cry from how he talks in issue #6 of this book to Earth-Alpha Stinger- who had exclaimed in the previous issue “I wish I were dead!”- when he speaks negatively about himself, calmly and compassionately telling him, “You haven’t done anything wrong. Now I know you’ve been through a lot, but it’s time to pull yourself together, like the warrior we both know you are. This was always going to be a rough ride, kid. You’re going to feel some bad emotions. Give them the power and they’ll change you into someone else. Someone you never wanted to be.”

In Dragonfly & Dragonflyman Richard has the realization too late that, as he explains to Chip in issue #5, “This life. All this anger, all the ways I take it out on you. Because you’re there. Because I can.” I had said in my round-up notes for that book that ideally, while not stopping Chip from moving out, Richard should have tried to stay in contact with Chip and purposely worked towards being able to interact with him in a less aggressive and demeaning way, but I think all he did to process his feelings was torture Devil-Man to death. I’m still leaning towards that what happened is that Chip did eventually return to Richard and that their relationship continued to be unhealthy and Chip committed suicide rather than run away again. I don’t think that Richard’s remarkably different demeanor in this book is something he developed after Chip ran away, or even after Chip committed suicide, I think it’s specific to that he’s getting a second chance in a new, brighter world with Earth-Alpha Stinger. It’s referenced that he’s changed since his sidekick died, but I think that was just him becoming even more aggressive and brutal towards villains.

I really want to read a book that takes place inbetween this book and the prequel. Or maybe more information about that time period will come out when Earth-Alpha Stinger finally learns that his “Dragonflyman” is actually now Earth-Omega Dragonfly. I did get more context on the formation of Richard and Chip’s relationship: in issue #2 Richard asks Earth-Alpha Stinger about how he started fighting crime and Stinger answers, “My parents were evil criminals, just like yours. You took me in after you brought them to justice,” which is presumably a parallel to what happened in Earth-Omega. Chip had said in issue #0 of Dragonfly & Dragonflyman, “I’m here to save lives and beat up fascists!”

I also thought that the Earth-Omega back-ups in issues #4-6 added a lot for Richard’s characterization. In the one in issue #4 he tries to rescue teenagers who have run away from home, having been enthralled by a villain, and tells them, “Kids, your parents are worried about you. Let’s take you home.” In the one in issue #5 he expresses hopelessness about his world, then in the one in issue #6 he declares, “My hope isn’t for humanity. […] But every day I wake up with hope… The hope that I’ll have a face to punch, scum to stomp.”

I’m talking a lot about Earth-Omega Richard and Chip because that’s the relationship I’m most emotionally invested in, but I actually really enjoy the depiction of Earth-Alpha in this book. For example, Deuce! I liked her taking over Number One’s criminal gang. I enjoyed that she was the one working to get Earth-Omega’s Number One out of her world while Dragonfly wasn’t making any progress on that, and I liked that she was always able to physically overpower Earth-Omega Number One. I loved her looking after Stinger! I’m assuming that she’ll continue to be a relevant character moving forward, since she’s in the unique position of knowing that Dragonflyman is actually Earth-Omega’s Dragonfly, though maybe she’ll just be taking her bribe money and getting out of town. I also liked that, while she was kind of into Dragonflyman and was willing to blackmail Dragonfly, when Dragonfly asks her out in issue #6 she’s clearly weirded out and uninterested because from her perspective he’s a dangerous and violent man from another world with different rules. And I appreciate Earth-Alpha villains going after Dragonfly in issue #4 after they realize they need to “murder Dragonflyman- before Dragonflyman murders us!”

And the concept behind Dragonfly and Earth-Alpha Stinger’s relationship is so appealing to me. The fact that Stinger is such a sweet kid and he has no idea that his guardian is secretly a different man that is willing to kill people behind his back in order to protect him. Speaking of that, I don’t think Chef Escargot’s mallet would have actually killed Stinger in issue #6; I think it’s similar to the scene in Dragonfly & Dragonflyman #5 where Lady Eve protested hitting Chip with a car as too violent but really he was fine because he simply rolled with the movement as Dragonflyman had taught him. And that in Dragonfly’s mind Earth-Alpha and it’s light-hearted alternate version of him is absurd and stupid, but he enjoys the popularity and the ease with which he can operate that, especially since he’d given up on being able to fix his world. It will be interesting to see going forward if Dragonfly and Dragonflyman will be able to make any lasting broader change in the new worlds they’re in. I’m also curious if we will ever see scenes of either set of superhero and sidekick in their civilian lives, which has been largely ignored in both this book and the prequel.

The Wrong Earth: Night & Day (2021) #1-6

These issues were published across January 2021 to August 2021, according to the League of Comic Geeks. All were written by Tom Peyer, penciled by Jamal Igle, and inked by Juan Castro, except that Russ Braun drew an 8-page scene in issue #3 and Peter Krause drew the 8-page epilogue in issue #6.

At the beginning of the book, when Dragonflyman comes across to Dragonfly as indifferent about Stinger, I was thinking that maybe Dragonflyman was thinking about the world of Earth-Omega and how it influenced Stinger-Two and now had an emotional disconnect with Earth-Alpha Stinger, who hadn’t ever had to experience anything like that.

I do think that Dragonflyman and Stinger-Two have a more mature relationship from the fact that Dragonflyman doesn’t need to protect him from any knowledge that isn’t appropriate for his age or would be emotionally difficult for him, because growing up in the world that he did means that he’s already been exposed to a lot of horrible stuff, so they can talk freely on equal terms despite their different philosophies. I think the scene in The Wrong Earth (2018) #5 where Dragonflyman talks about how horrible he’s felt since being in that horrible world and Stinger-Two says he can relate to those feelings is really significant. I also personally really enjoy the sort of role-reversal where Stinger-Two thinks of Dragonflyman, while a “great man,” as “like a child” because of his beliefs and mannerisms.

And I found it really striking how in The Wrong Earth (2018) the mentality was that the people from Earth-Omega needed to be removed from Earth-Alpha because they were dangerous, but in this book Dragonflyman wants to bring Stinger-Two there, even though Stinger-Two still doesn’t follow Dragonflyman’s moral code, because he wants to give Stinger-Two a better life. And while Dragonflyman and Stinger-Two still have a good relationship after a year of him killing people, Dragonflyman can’t tolerate Dragonfly killing bad guys for a moment. I am looking forward to seeing how Dragonflyman’s two kids get along in the upcoming book and in particular how Dragonflyman handles that; I don’t think he’s really had real experience managing young people being difficult. Also, I don’t expect that Stinger-Two will feel positively towards Dragonfly.

I was disappointed in the ultimate handling of Stinger learning that Dragonfly had tricked him about Dragonflyman being trapped in Earth-Omega. I think the build-up of Dragonfly and Dragonflyman being worried about how to tell him was done well, but then when he is told I don’t think his reaction was that strong. I think it should have sparked a similar intense reaction as the original revelation did, feeling guilty over Dragonflyman having been stuck in another earth for a year, and also feeling stupid that he was tricked. I think the reason Stinger took blaming himself so strongly and immediately was suicidal the first time he realized it is because his life has been too perfect on Earth-Alpha and he doesn’t know how to handle legitimately bad things happening and bad emotions, which wouldn’t have been resolved in the one-year timeskip between books, despite Dragonfly talking to him a bit about bad feelings. On an adjacent note, while I’m sympathetic to Dragonflyman’s worry that Stinger was dead, just putting off talking about him to avoid hearing about what had happened to Stinger during his year away wasn’t very mature of him.

I noted before that Deuce was weirded out when Dragonfly asked her out at the end of The Wrong Earth (2018). Their relationship developed a lot over the year inbetween the books, the end portrayal of that here charmed and intrigued me. I made a post about how Deuce, now also known as Lady Dragonflyman, was bypassing the standard rules of her world, which was probably necessary for Dragonfly to be able to form a real relationship with her. Notably, Dragonfly doesn’t seem to have killed anyone in Earth-Alpha since Chef Escargot but is still being more violent with criminals than the real Dragonflyman would be. Stinger is ok with this because he’s oblivious to it, but it’s not clear to me where Deuce stands; she knew that Dragonfly killed Triviac and I think it’s unlikely she believed him that he didn’t kill Chef Escargot.

Deuce and Dragonfly are clearly intimate with each other. I enjoyed the moment in issue #1 of this book where he leans towards her with his hands behind his back and she playfully keeps him an armswidth away. Dragonfly says in issue #2 that he expected Dragonflyman to be “smug, sanctimonious,” but in issue #1 he tells Deuce that possibly “you can have the real thing again, instead of a poor substitute,” and he tells Dragonflyman in issue #6 “You’ll like her. I know she’ll like you.” Deuce, meanwhile, clearly doesn’t actually feel about this situation the way Dragonfly thinks she does and was sad about the possibility of him leaving forever. I also enjoyed Deuce’s continued care for Stinger (though she may have been, in his eyes, a wedge into his simpler relationship with Dragonflyman that he preferred).

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

This reminds me how almost as soon as he got it, my brother lost his class ring while walking to the swamp. He rushed back and we got out our two metal detectors, all of helping hunt. The ring was never found. I had already learned by then, usually the hard way, to never wear jewelry in the woods. Or the fields. Or out in the shop. Or swimming. Or at the river. Or to the beach. Or on the mountain. Or cooking. Or…. Well, basically, anywhere but the most sedate of indoor life.

And even then you can lose things. When I was a teenager I lost my beloved ankh (I’d been wearing it constantly since I was 6 or 7) and the Kennedy Center amulet I had on the chain with it, and I didn’t even leave my bedroom. I was twirling it on my finger when it flew off. I saw exactly where it flew, but couldn’t find it. Literally decades of hunting, including removing everything from that room, and I STILL haven’t found it. Stupid dimensional rift opening up! I hope a me in some other universe found it.

Just a couple weeks ago I was reminded why I don’t wear jewelry. I’ve gotten so I was wearing a ring or two on shopping days or on special occasions, but I had a rule to take them off the second I got home before the hazards of my lifestyle could do them in. Unfortunately that day I was really hungry and got fixing supper. Wham! I hit my ring on the edge of the microwave and a chunk of the silver decoration framing the garnet broke right off!!!

None of my jewelry in valuable, because why buy gold or fancy jewels when you can buy books? Well, that and what would be the purpose. None of it is about fashion, because I never have any chance to be seen wearing it. It’s memories, gifts, things connected to people or places, things that I just thought looked cool or connected with me. All of it is loved and treasured far too much to risk losing and/or breaking.

I actually love jewelry. I take them out of the boxes I stash them in, sigh over them, fantasize about having an occasion to wear them, try them on, then put them away for another six months or year or whatever.

My parents were married for over fifty years, but neither of them wore wedding rings. Pop had our fiberglassing business, but that doesn’t begin to hint all the hands on work he did. All kinds of power tools, construction style jobs, things you would consider forestry work, building, making, hobbies that included lots of getting your hands dirty… I really can’t begin to describe the stuff Pop’s hands went through. ** He had worn through his ring at least a decade before I was born, and Mom had done the same with hers soon after.

In fact, Mom just wore a series of cheap little rings in place of hers because it was expected to have one. She and Pop didn’t need the symbol between themselves, their love being unshakable, but she had a job with a lot of contact with people. Wearing a ring meant less annoying questions, wild gossip, and getting hit on.

When she retired a ring was just as impractical as it was for Pop, so she stopped. Well, until Pop died. Then she wore her grandmother’s ring because she wanted people to know she considered herself just as married to Pop until she dies too. My parents were rather epically bonded***, to say the least.

Anyway, some lives, or maybe people, are too rough and tumble for jewelry. And by “some” I mean me.

I see people wearing rings on several fingers, necklaces, jangly bracelets, earrings swinging about on their ears, dainty little nose rings sparkling, and it often looks cool. Sooooo cool. Still, I find myself wondering how they manage it. Don’t they use their hands? Don’t they ever get all mucky? Don’t they go places where they could catch on their jewelry? Do they never go outside??? Our lives are so different I must be like another species entirely.

Ah well, what do you expect from me. I’m a feral beastie raised by wolves!!!****

** Pop had incredible, powerful hands. We were the same height, but his hands were literally twice as big as mine. They were so callused he could handle things that would burn anyone else. These were strong hands with a grip you wouldn’t believe, but capable of the most incredible delicacy. You should have seen the detail work he could do. I miss those hands so much. I wish I had thought to take pics of them.

***It’s lovely but horrible too, having parents that come about as humanly possible to a “true love” out of fiction. Best friends to lovers is a thing. It’s wonderful never having any doubt about your parent’s adoring, trusting, and respecting each other. It’s also terrible, because from young childhood you believe that’s how love works. (There is a reason I saw my parents as Gomez and Morticia…the only “realistic” pop culture marriage I saw as a kid) It sets expectations of romance that makes it difficult. It’s like my parents won the romantic lottery and my brain kept expecting me to as well.

**** Family joke. Our name is “Wolfe” so we often pointed out we were raised by wolves when our oddness was mentioned.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 28, 2010 It rained like crazy all day and all night yesterday, but today will be sunny and warm. Then after a couple of days in the 60s, we’ll get rained on again.

Work was good yesterday and I did a bunch of categorizing jobs and made $15 in just over a couple of hours. I’ll probably make close to that today too, but will also be doing several other things as well.

The rat’s been a little clingier since his brother died, but toting around a 2-pound rat isn’t very easy. I still manage to make sure I give him regular treats and attention so he doesn’t feel so alone, but can’t let him run around loose because he’s way more destructive than any other rat we’ve ever had.

Since he’s old and has a tumor and won’t be around much longer, we’ve got a decision to make soon – do we want to get another rat? Do we want to get a dog? Or do we just go petless for a while? I know I definitely don’t have as much time as I used to for pets, so we’ll just have to wait and see.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2010 Nothing new to update on other than that one of the rats died. I was surprised it was Bendejo and not the other one who’s huge and has a tumor. Tom will miss him, but I can’t say I’ll miss him much myself because he was never much fun. He wasn’t mean in any way. He actually had a very mellow disposition. He was just timid as hell and quite antisocial.

D said she was worried because she lost pay from the last two snow days and won’t get paid from the new job for a couple of weeks, but as I told her, her life may not be perfect, but just be glad to be living rent-free! And that she has all that money to look forward to when the new job does start paying. She’s very lucky something up there cared enough about her to help guide her to this new job. Wish something would care about us that much. But I totally believe that even if the economy were suddenly booming, we’re just one of those who will always be meant to be poor. I could write a book as brilliant as any best seller out there, and my husband could come up with the most ingenious of programs, but nothing can change fate. I just can’t figure out why we’re meant to be poor for the rest of our lives. Maybe we were bank robbers in a previous life, IDK.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2010 All 5 of my stories are currently in the top 14 spots on the story site with one of them being #1 again. Yeah, they love me when they don’t have to pay me, LOL.

D read a couple of my stories and so I sent her some more. She also was quite flattering by saying that the more she learns about me, the more she loves me. I think it’s usually the other way around, LOL.

Mother Nature has been pissed at the northeast, alright! D’s boss told her she could take the day off yesterday because she was snowed in.

She sent a couple of text messages, one serious and touching, the other funny, but as I reminded her, we have pre-paid so we have to pay for these things. I assured her I’d make her “pay restitution” if she ever makes it out here for a visit, LOL.

Not Tom, of course, but many people have felt uncomfortable around me because I tend to be able to do the things most people can’t (mostly things related to music/art/writing and learning languages) while the simple, everyday things are harder for me. Guess I’m just one of them prodigies they’re always studying. People have often told me I made them feel dumb in comparison, or they just didn’t appreciate the things I worked hard to learn and achieve. Not D, though. D has informed me that it’s one of the things she loves about me.

So while I may have a driving phobia, no ability to hold a schedule, and find a lot of modern gadgets confusing (she got a kick out of how I said I didn’t know how to use Tom’s cell phone), I’ll go on to write my stories, learn my languages, and sing better than not all, but probably at least half of these singers.

Other than being both dumb and smart, life is going pretty much as it has been lately. It’s just a big old waiting game. Tom did say, however, that more jobs have been showing up at the job site (not the one we work at) and around here too, and not just in Sac City.

I loved one of the perfume samples I got. The Black Orchid by Tom Ford. I found I could get it on eBay for as little as $25-$35, but I’ve got other priorities right now so it will have to wait. First we want to upgrade Tom’s software so he can do some software testing as well as some programming. We also have other things we’re going to be getting that we could use, so the Black Orchid is on hold for now. It comes in an ugly bottle but smells heavenly. It’s almost masculine smelling, but it’s not. I’d also like to try his White Patchouli since Patchouli is one of my favorites.

Fucking horses! Had they done their job back in 2006 I could have just about anything I wanted short of a million-dollar mansion. Don’t even ask me to explain that one right now. Now is not the time. But the point is the same; I may not be nearly as materialistic as I used to be, but we’d never have had to worry about money had things gone the way they were supposed to. But it seems they rarely do. Yup, life is full of surprises, good and bad, and as I’ve learned, expect the unexpected in life as that’s most likely what you’re going to end up with.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2010 Incredibly, the propane guy not only came the day he was supposed to, but I may’ve slept through most of it as well. I slept with both sound machines on really loud and an earplug in the good ear. When I woke up and stumbled out of the bedroom, I thought the guy was just pulling in, but he was actually just leaving. This gives me hope of never having to be woken up by Jesse again as long as I make sure I turn the sound machines up and use the earplug when I’m sleeping during the daytime. Then the worst he can do is annoy me with coming down here, and I’d rather that than be woken up. I can’t believe no one’s been down since the 12th!

Anyway, other than working and swapping emails with my top cyber pals, I’m working on my bio tonight. The next chunk should be posted soon. I added new info regarding my lovely tormentors of the 90s and 00s. This is because I learned more after I wrote the part of my bio that covers them and their shit which is part of why it was taken down for editing. I can’t believe I left out the part about the little note they put in our mailbox slot trying to arrange a little orgy with us, plus the phone message preaching racial harmony. But I guess that’s just because they did so much shit to us it’s hard to keep track of everything. Especially when you’re trying to forget such assholes and get on with your life.

I also added that my disability benefits were terminated around the time I got married, another thing I was shocked to find I’d left out.

D starts her new job on Monday! Aren’t you glad you didn’t drink? I asked her. She said yes, though a beer still sounded good at the time, LOL. But as I told her, a lot of things “sound” good. When I tell myself what I wish I could do to my perpetrators, it sounds like music to my ears. Yet I know I never can because then they’d have a legit, honest-to-God reason to throw me in jail. So I’ll just have to keep on listening to that music.

So yay for D, boo for us, still having to sit around like we’re a couple of dumb-ass, lazy people who don’t give a shit about nothing. I wonder if I’ll ever accept the fact that no matter how ready, willing and able we are to get ahead, we just never will. All I can see is him not working for 2-3 years, then starting at shit pay and slowly climbing to maybe $12 over a 5-year period, while our dream home continues to be just that – a dream. I hope I’m wrong and that he, who believes he’ll be working this summer, is right. He says he thinks there’ll be a big push for jobs because it’s an election year, and if the people up for election don’t do something to get the jobs going again, they get voted out.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2010 Swapped emails with D, Eileen and Paul, and now I’m just kicking back. It’s still the weekend, so there’s not much work at the job site.

I gave D some tips and pointers on an essay she had to do and calmed her fears about the new job. Since it’s been two weeks, she’s starting to worry it’s some kind of joke. Especially since she already gave her two-week notice to her current boss. I told her not to jump the gun and assume anything until she talked to someone. She’s going to call them tomorrow. I can’t believe a college of all places would tell someone they had a job that they didn’t and play with someone’s head like that. God, I hope not anyway!

I’m just lazing around and not doing much since it’s the weekend. I worked out and did a few jobs, but that’s about it. Every so often I catch up on what horror flicks I might’ve missed on Hulu. Once I’ve seen all I want to see, I’ll get back on with my writing till they add new goodies.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2010 Other than swapping a few emails with D, doing a couple of loads of laundry, and not finding much work, it’s been a slow day. I’m taking advantage of the lack of work available and just vegging out and relaxing. I’m gonna watch a movie or two on Hulu and maybe – maybe – do some writing.

Cassie’s got a girlfriend, so D says she’ll “move in for the kill” when they break up. Meanwhile, she’s got this blond chick she’s playing around with who’s one of the bus drivers.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2010 I’ve learned a lesson: never bother to send a referral link to Alison again. She doesn’t realize she has to do certain things more than once for anyone to make any money. Signing up simply isn’t enough.

Got up at 12:30 and unfortunately, that was too late to go over a paper D wanted me to go over before she turned it in. She was going to work right around the time I first got up and checked my email. Then I was so busy I didn’t get back to my computer till around 3:00, at which time I answered emails from cyber buddies, then hit the job site. Made $15 in just 20 minutes or less.

We went to the store shortly after I got up. The cherry and apple trees are now in bloom and they look so pretty.

The propane people are set to come out Monday which probably means they’ll really be here Tuesday or Wednesday. We’re getting 50 gallons for $130. It should last a lot longer than the last time when we got 70 gallons with the way we’re warming up here. We are, however, supposed to drop into the 50s and get rained on for a few days, so who knows for sure? Propane is getting cheaper as the weather warms up, so whenever we do need it again it won’t cost as much.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2010 D got to have some fun last night. She took my advice and told the person she didn’t want any strings attached, and they said that’d be alright as long as they kept coming back. They got it on in the women’s bathroom which she says may sound tacky, but the stalls were huge.

You would think I would feel some jealousy, but instead I just feel happy for D, who says she feels 10 pounds lighter. I guess sex just isn’t a top priority for me. Since guys don’t usually know what the hell they’re doing in bed I suppose I could join sites to meet women locally, but I just haven’t wanted to. It’s still nice to know the option is there if I ever feel I just gotta be a little bit more human. I seem to attract women more and more with age. I’m still as feminine as always, but they seem to prefer the older version of me for some reason, whereas most guys are obsessed with the young and skinny. Well, I may not be fat and I may look a little younger, but I’m not young and skinny, LOL.

Yesterday it turned out that I knew too many languages for my own good. There was this survey that came into the job site that paid well, but you had to be monolingual and speak English only. So Tom did that one.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 17, 2010 Got cards from both Eileen and Rosa today. It was so nice of them to send them. I emailed Eileen and will get a letter off to Rosa soon enough. Still wonder why I haven’t heard from Mary?

D wasn’t too happy about the meaning of her last name (stupid or silly) which I got a kick out of. Ours makes perfect sense for us; no matter how hard you try to get ahead in life it’s always gonna rain on your plans anyway! Don’t have a clue as to what my maiden name could mean. I only know it’s of German Jewish descent.

I was flattered by the way she said she liked my fire (when I told someone to go turn on their stove and sit on it), especially since most either try to throw water on it if they aren’t running from it in the first place.

I forgot to mention that Paul said he thinks I should work on the story with Stacey because it has “movie rights” stamped all over it, LOL. I don’t know about that, but we’ll see. Maybe in the future I’ll tinker with it, but right now I have enough on my plate.

Tom read about this killer ab exercise and I was like, yeah, so what? An exercise is an exercise and none of them work miracles, as some like to say. They just help. But I’m always open to trying new things. I don’t know what it’s called. I just refer to it as The Strain cuz it’s a hell of a strain, alright. You make like you’re going to do push-ups, only you lean on your elbows, keeping your body as straight as you can and holding the position for 20 seconds. You do 5 sets of these every other day. The catch: you have to be in kick-ass shape. Tom can’t even get through one set yet. It can also cause bleeding in some women that’s how intense it is. It’s really doing a fine job of firming and flattening my tummy after just 4 or 5 times of doing it and my stomach was already pretty flat to begin with. I do my regular crunches on days I don’t do this exercise. Then there are my usual cardio workouts where I either ride or run. I work my arms too, using water jugs as weights.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 16, 2010 Fortunately, I was able to get online without any problems when I got up. Yesterday Tom had to call our IP cuz our modem lost its mind and we needed a special code to access the internet.

It will be warm and sunny again today, and like yesterday, I am barefoot and in shorts.

I still love the hell out of D, but she sure confuses me at times. She said something like, “Now that I know you’re strictly dickly I won’t talk about sex anymore,” and I’m wondering to myself, now where the hell does this girl come up with these things? After all, if I were strictly dickly then I wouldn’t be flirting with her. Only gay and bi women flirt with other women. Not straight women. LOL, so I don’t always know what to make of her assumptions at times, but anyway, she gets off work at 8pm today. I hope her cold is better.

The pest is working today, judging by the fact that I haven’t heard his motorcycle since I’ve been up. And Tom said he heard barking “in the distance” this morning which was almost certainly Whiskey right up the hill. You can’t hear barking in the distance here unless you either go outside or are by an open window late at night.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 2010 Swapped emails with D, Eileen and Paul. D has a cold, Eileen asked if I got the Valentine’s card she sent me, and Paul is just Paul. He was in one of last night’s strange and unnerving mixture of senseless dreams, but I will get to that soon enough.

D and I couldn’t resist going back to sending several emails a day, so we swapped messages on and off in between her being sick and me working on various things.

Yesterday she appeared to be available on Yahoo all day and by 7pm I couldn’t resist the urge to say hello, but she never replied. So I guess she wasn’t actually there.

I told Eileen we only pick up our mail once a week. After 4 months of holidays disrupting the mail, it will be nice to get a break from that for a while! We usually go on Thursdays or Fridays, but we may go on Wednesday this week. Anyway, she’s been having fun spending time with her granddaughter but is tired from all the activity.

Last night the heat didn’t come on till 11:30 and today we had to open windows for a while. It almost got up to 85º in here, though the temp drops fast after dark.

Incredibly, I heard not one single sound from Jesse yesterday. No motorcycle, no bulldozer, no barking, no nothing. Today he came and went on the motorcycle at which time there was some barking. I told Whiskey to be quiet and he did. The temperature and time of day definitely have a part in how well he listens. The earlier it is and the colder it is, the more he barks and will only shut up for a few minutes at a time when yelled at. If it’s warmer and later in the day, the commands have more lasting effects.

Tom said Brandy was down here yesterday which doesn’t surprise me. I still think they’re abused and neglected, so the more they get to know us, the more they’ll hang out down here.

I dreamt that I went with Tom to pick up the mail and the check came. He said, “It looks like they’re going to white us out.” I asked what that meant – shit, I’m getting a cramp in my hand when I type – and he said that a “white-out” meant that that would be our last check. Instead of panicking, I figured, oh well, so we gotta kill ourselves so we don’t starve in the streets. So be it. I knew I’d miss D, but also knew I’d never again have to worry about bills or any of life’s bullshit.

Then the dream continued in this spacious, modern place we could never move to if we were on unemployment, and I thought to myself that at least we’d get to “die in style.” Tom asked how I liked it there and I said it was nice, but a bit of a walk from my computer to the toilet (since I’m always peeing with all the water I drink).

Next thing I know we’re back here and someone’s working for Jesse on the cement stairs he decided to create going from our place and straight up the hill to his door (God, I hope he doesn’t do that!). I said to the guy, “Well, I won’t tell you to shut up since my husband works nights and is asleep at the other end of the place, but do you know anything about these white-outs? Does the government just starve people like that?”

Not that Tom’s bound to have the blessing of a job for quite a while in reality, but the guy said, “Yup, they do it all the time.”

I then started wandering around and in just minutes I happened to be halfway around the world in front of Paul’s place in England, LOL. He was hanging out front. I recognized him from his picture and he recognized me, too. “Oh, hey there, Jodi!” he said, “How are you?”

“Hi Paul,” I said back. “I’m okay.”

He invited me in but I was hesitant because I know he hates to lose time from his writing. But he assured me a few minutes would be fine and so we ended up chatting and even cooking God knows what for what had to be a lot longer than a few minutes. How I got back home is a mystery to me, LOL.

Lastly, I dreamt I joined this escort service of all things. I wasn’t there because I wanted to be there, but because I needed the money. So I waited in a waiting room to be “bought.” A woman who was sort of short, fat, old and ugly (like me. :)) came in and decided to buy me. I was glad to have been sold to a woman if I had to be sold to anyone. But then I learned she was actually taking me home to her husband. I woke up trying to figure out if I could get the money and then split before I had to actually render any services.

Tom assured me there’s no such thing as a “white-out” and that all is fine with our money. I think I’m just going to be a worrywart forever no matter what!

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2010 Wow, still nothing from Jesse. Maybe he figures that with it being Valentine’s Day he should leave us alone, not that we’re doing much today other than laundry and mailing the unemployment form. Work is slow on weekends. It’s a good thing we’re not tight on cash since yet another holiday will be delaying our check a day. I hate November through April when you can’t even go more than a few weeks between holidays!

It’s hard to believe that Andy’s going to be 58 tomorrow, wherever he is, which I assume is either down in Arizona or back east.

Last time I checked all 5 of my stories were in the top 17 out of the 100+ stories there. Yeah, they love me when they don’t have to pay me, LOL. The first one’s coming up on 20,000 views.

D and I swapped a few emails yesterday evening. She said I could write about her; it’s when I slam her to my followers she doesn’t like. I didn’t think I had but will try to make it a point to be as nice as I can, even if she sometimes still frustrates me, LOL. Besides, I don’t “slam” anyone to my followers. I simply write in my journal. And sometimes we get upset with those who are a part of our lives.

Anyway, she said she deleted her journal because she doesn’t like to share her pain. She’s also having a hard time letting go and moving on, which I can relate to. Just seeing that she’s online right now is tempting. I hate to chat yet I’m tempted to jump out at her and say hello seeing that she’s right there. But I know I would be a hypocrite if I did, so I’m sitting on my hands and fighting back the urge. I told her we should drop it to just one email a day since we’re in each other’s thoughts, dreams, and fantasies enough of the time that we don’t need to go flooding our inboxes as well and make moving on even harder.

When I say “moving on,” I don’t mean cutting each other out of our lives. I’m still perfectly open to a visit someday if she’d like to visit. Moving on simply means cutting back on the emails and her keeping her eyes and mind open to a person who can give her what I can’t. If she’s tied up with me all the time, opportunities may pass her by. Besides, I do so much these days that I don’t always have time to chat and swap emails on and off all day, especially during the week.

She sure did invade my dreams last night! I was at some strange camp in Denver, then she was fucking me. Then I was in a house that looked like the Phoenix house, then she was fucking me again.

She said she hates it when she gets hung up on a girl. So this has happened before, huh? I asked her about that and she said not too many times, but when it does she meets someone else and moves on. So this is part of why I’m hoping she’ll meet someone. Not just because I want her to be happy, but so she won’t pester me so much. Besides, even if we could be together right now, am I really that special? Or would she only end up cheating in time?

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 13, 2010 Better hurry up and do an entry before Jesse steals the peace and takes my concentration with it. Why do we have to have such an obnoxious landlord who can’t sit still and take a day off? The only time he’s quiet is when it’s either pouring like crazy or hot as hell.

Anyway, I woke up sad today, thinking D was a thing of the past and forever gone from my life. Then I checked my email and there was a message from her. I didn’t smile this time. This time I grinned. She said she couldn’t imagine not saying “hello” from time to time and would still read my journal at times too, if that was okay with me. I told her that would not only be fine, but I would love to keep in touch. I suggested emailing each other once a day, but if that was too much for her I’ll just wait until the next time she feels up to email me. I do miss reading her journal as well and hope she’ll eventually go back to that, but that has to be up to her. Public journaling isn’t for everyone.

I know I could continue to drive myself crazy by asking myself if I truly would feel like a cheater if we got it on right this minute, or would I only feel like I gave into my human side? Well, I decided that the best thing to do would be not to assume and plan so much and just let whatever’s meant to be play itself out. If I ever see her again and if we ever do anything together, then I’ll know how I’ll feel.

Meanwhile, it’s back on with my work, writing, working out – the usual stuff I do.

Later…

So much for D and I being able to stay away from each other, LOL! It was great to hear from her like I did again in the afternoon. It was just enough to touch base, but not so much that it kept me from doing other things.

She had wanted to tell me she stopped following me because she didn’t want me to feel like she was spying or anything like that, but I laughed and assured her that if I didn’t want anyone seeing anything I do online I’d mark it private. This explains why she left Twitter. I was wondering about that, but had just figured she was bored with my tweets.

Cassie, the chick she wants to ask out, is on vacation. Meanwhile, she says she knows she should back off, but that it’s hard to. Yeah, I missed her too, and so I know how it is! I thought of her all day, wondering what she was up to and all that. Horny is what she’s up to, LOL. She joked about maybe showing up at my door and being crazy obsessed with me. I let her know I liked the idea of an Italian hottie being obsessed with me, but that she’d probably find it easier to move on when she meets someone. She doesn’t think so, though. Well, as I told her, I’ll always love her no matter what. I love her about as much as these mother-fucking spiders have been terrorizing me. Yeah, it’s getting bad enough that Tom’s gonna go out and spray tomorrow. Soon we’ll bomb, too.

Anyway, she was nice enough to let me out of the chat thing after not too long, knowing how much I hate the damn thing. It’s still nice to know she’s out there thinking of me. She’s definitely on my mind as well, that’s for sure. I always imagine various scenarios involving her and they’re not all sexual. Sometimes we just talk. Sometimes we take a shower together. Sometimes she just likes to watch me work out while I watch her fix something, impressed by her strength and knowledge as she is impressed by my singing and knack for languages. Oh, all the fun things we get to do within the entertainment region of my brain!

So it’s nice to know she’s hanging out behind the scenes and thinking of me, far away but not forgotten.

It got up to 82º in here, as I told her, and I had to take off my dress, something she approved of. Did I ever tell her I was a stripper for a while? Well, if she’s been reading my bio, she’d know that. What a customer she’d have been to have! If she were here I’d give her the most exotic dance of her life and then some! I may not be much of a cook, and I may not keep up on the cleaning as much as I should, but I can still work those curves of mine.

Back to reality: She is 3000 miles away and I am married.

Life sucks even when it doesn’t, for I still love my husband to death.

But I still also want my tall, dark, utterly hot… Yeah, I know, I know… Move on and keep dreaming!

All 5 of my stories are on page 1 right now. I’m also completely blown away by the fact that Jesse and his brother haven’t been down today.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 12, 2010 I am all teary-eyed right now and feeling like a jerk, but hopeful that I really did do the right thing along with D. Yeah, now she’s back to wanting to be just D, though I don’t get why. I asked if anyone read my journal who knew who she was had a hold on her and could use anything I said against her in any way, but she said no. At first I was thinking, hey, it’s my journal, and was reluctant to change things! But I care about her enough to honor her request.

I had the horrible task of having to choose between doing what I felt was right versus what made me feel good. Well, it didn’t feel at all good to let D go, but she helped make me feel a little less of a jerk by saying she was going to move on anyway and had planned to tell me today. And of course our song has been playing through my head over and over and over and it’s only making me cry harder.

She said that while it’s been a great two months and she doesn’t regret a moment of it, there’s this girl named Cassie who works in a grocery store that has shown interest in her and she’s working up the courage to ask her out.

I don’t regret these last two months either, though the thought of never getting another email from her that puts a smile on my face makes me very sad. I appreciate how well she’s handled this. Others I’ve let go have reacted with childish anger over it and did a fine job of making me feel even guiltier over it. But this case is different. I let others go because they did things to me that I didn’t like. However, I’m letting D go for the same reasons she’s letting me go; so she has the opportunity to move on. I’d hate to see love pass her by because she was preoccupied with me, someone who couldn’t give her the full-time love and attention she wants and deserves. It still hurts and I will be sad for a while, but I know that we’ll both be okay. She knows I’m still here and she can say hello every now and then and let me know how she’s doing, and she did. It’s not like I blocked her on various sites or anything like that. I couldn’t do that. If she wants to knock me off her friend list on Facebook or MySpace, that’s gotta be up to her.

I noticed she emptied her journal out and I feel bad about it even though it’s not like I made her do it or anything. Maybe her reasons for doing it had nothing to do with me in the first place, I don’t know.

Like I said, she’s handling it well, but was wrong in assuming part of what motivated me was her bogging me down and wanting a social life. Yeah, she’s taken up some time and been a bit of a distraction, but it’s been in a fun and interesting way. Sure I get frustrated at times because I want someone I can never have. I want to hold her so bad right now! And sure I sometimes think we shouldn’t email each other as much to keep it more special and to keep us focused on other things at hand, but I assured her that having a social life was not my intention. If anything I have too much of one and it’s been that way long before she came around. When I joined the social sites I joined, it was because of the sweeps and contests. I had no idea it would evolve into what it’s evolved into for me.

Anyway, she thanked me for the great two months and said the decision was hers to let me go, but I helped by saying I wished she would. It was a hard thing to “wish” for, believe me! She also said she knew and understood that I would never leave Tom and wasn’t asking or expecting me to. I know she wasn’t, and I totally believe her when she said she wasn’t expecting anything of me had she come out to visit. She said that had we fucked, fine, if not, that would’ve been fine, too. She also said that to see other states and live in a warmer climate would have been nice, and because we will not be talking anymore she won’t know where I am and I won’t know where she is. So I take it she’s not going to read my journal anymore which is understandable. Some people would find it easier not to know what’s going on with someone they loved, I guess.

I asked Tom for his opinion and he feels I’m too all or nothing and that I’ve always been stubborn in that way and that it’d make it easier to get along with people if I compromised a little more. So I guess the best thing to do then, in the case of D, since she’s not someone who’s abused me or done anything wrong, would be to cut the emails to 5 a day instead of 50, LOL, unless she absolutely insists on never having a damn thing to do with me ever again. She did tell me she’d always love me, and I know I’ll always love her. She also asked if she could still call me babe. Of course she can, I told her.

So we’ll just have to wait and see what happens. She has a right to move on if that’s what she chooses, but I can’t just throw her away. I thought I could for the sake of letting her move on, but I feel that is just too cruel.

Does a part of me still hope she visits? Yes. Does a part of me still wish she’d move here? Yes. But once again, she has to follow her heart for no one else can follow it for her. Meanwhile, I wished her luck with Cassie and if I never hear from her again I’ll never forget the Italian hottie that I, for reasons I’ll never know, fell in love with practically overnight and at 3000 miles away.

Since the late 90s, I’ve been living like a hermit. Or trying to anyway. I’ve pushed away so many would-be friends and kept myself hidden in a shell. I felt it’d be safer this way and cause me fewer headaches in life along the way. But now I realize I also cut off the potential to have some good people in my life as well.

I started dumping those I did know like crazy around this same time. Larry and Jenny taught me this back in the 80s. Not that I’m blaming them for my actions. But after being abandoned in various ways throughout my life, this was pretty much the only example I had set for myself on which to base my own actions.

Looking back on all the people I’ve cut off, I’d still say I did the right thing for the most part, but did I really need to dump Kim and Andy? Or was it just “convenient” to do so? Either way, I’ll have to live with it, though I’m pretty sure at this point that Andy knew he wasn’t going to be friends with me again when he called asking for a tape he also knew I didn’t have. I think he planned to ignore me once I failed to deliver what he knew I couldn’t and that this was his way of giving me a taste of my own medicine.

I am still okay with us not associating with his mother and not just because of how she took advantage of us and all the time and money we lost because of it. It’s her abandoning us in a time of need and leaving us to sink or swim without a care in the world that’s the main reason. What kind of mother can do that to her own son and daughter-in-law? Had we starved in the streets, she wouldn’t have felt the least bit guilty. She would’ve told herself (and others) that she “did her best” all the while she continued to sit on the 100 or so grand that was sitting in her bank. Tom used to do her taxes. Things may’ve changed by now, but she had a ton of money back then and she could’ve helped us if she’d wanted to. But it isn’t just a case of us not having anything to do with her, Mary and the others. It’s them not having anything to do with us as well. They could contact us if they really gave a damn. They could apologize if they really wanted to. I don’t know that I could forgive them as that’s quite a biggie you’re talking about, but I may’ve been willing to at least move on and be polite and cordial if I couldn’t be friendly.

As for my brother and sister; while I feel I’m slowly getting over some of the anger there, they have caused me too much grief to want to resume a relationship with them. My brother always goes back on his word and stabs people in the back, and my sister is a whole ‘nother story, of course. I just can’t associate with someone who helped get me in jail for defending her abuser. If I’d accepted her back into my life last year, I’d have only worried about what she may do if she got pissed at me again which would probably be something like calling the cops to say I was threatening her, her family or her exes. She’d have to have proof, of course, but still, I wouldn’t need those kinds of hassles in my life. She’s just too vengeful and vindictive much in the way that our crazy neighbors were. Instead of ignoring me if she got pissed at something I may say or do, she’d retaliate.

So now that I’ve made this very long and kind of depressing entry, it’s back to doing what I don’t always do best – making whatever money I can depending on what jobs have come in.

Later…

I awoke to find a big fat scary spider sitting on the floor by my stereo. I didn’t want to hit it or spray it for fear of missing and having it take off and go into hiding, so I grabbed the vacuum, all the while praying it wouldn’t move, and sucked it up a moment later.

Spring has sprung and these are part of the consequences of being able to enjoy warmer weather. Bugs are active here year-round, but it’s worse with warmer weather so we’re gonna have to bomb soon.

Yes, spring is in the air and I’m loving every minute of it since it’s still cold at night. It’s sunny and warm right now and it’s saving us money since the heat doesn’t need to run throughout most of the day. It’s 80º in here right now. I’ll kick the fan on if it goes up another couple of degrees, but I like being warm. I also don’t want to open windows as much as I love fresh air, because the warmer we let it get in here, the longer the heat stays off. The propane tank’s gage is back down to 12% and they can’t come out before the week after next. Meanwhile, we did something we should’ve done from the get-go – put more of the cooking bill on Jesse! I had Tom dig the toaster oven out of the shed that we got at the motel to use there. Because I like certain things crispy, I would sometimes use the oven. But this way we’ll save on propane since Jesse pays for the electricity. We’ll still use the regular oven at times, just not as much.

Anyway, it’s nice to finally be warming up again, unlike someone I love dearly back east. Kind of takes the fun out of the saying about “a New York minute” since the winters there last a hell of a lot longer than a minute, LOL! It’s 63º here right now and just 24º there.

Tom found the mail key, so he called the mail place and she canceled the order for the spare.

No one came down here yesterday, but I could hear some kind of engine gunning around 5pm. Not sure what it was or where it came from.

The brothers – or father and brother – came down today for about an hour. They were much quieter because they were working towards the back of the property. I doubt they’d have woken me up had I been asleep. I didn’t even know they were here till they started cutting the wood. There’s still a lot more to cut too, and one piece is so big I think they’re going to need a log splitter for it.

I need to rewrite a huge chunk of the Phoenix part of my bio before posting the next section. Up until now, I thought it wasn’t written too poorly after all, but then I got to this rather disorganized part and decided otherwise. I try to keep all my subjects together, but it’s hard at times if a particular event spans a long period of time. So I’m restructuring certain parts which is quite a bit of work.

Gosh, I’m still so sad at the thought of never hearing from D again, but like she said, she was planning on telling me today anyway that she was ready to move on and so I must let her go. I want her to be happy. I’d rather miss her and know she’s happy, than not miss her and know she’s miserable. I’m just keeping busy to ease the pain, reminding myself that I’ll feel better with time. I’ll never stop loving her. I’ll never stop thinking about her and wondering what her life is like. I’ll never stop hoping she’s got someone who loves her and that she’s happy, healthy and doing well financially. But the pain should ease up with time. Time heals all wounds, even though I’m not sure this constitutes a “wound.”

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 2010 I shut down my computer and thought I was ready for bed, but couldn’t sleep. Instead, she was on my mind, invading my thoughts and keeping me awake.

sighs Dilemmas, dilemmas, dilemmas. Do I walk away and set her free so she can find someone available? Or do I take what I can get, even if all that can ever be is an electronic relationship? I’m trying so hard to consider her feelings while considering my own and it’s tough. I never thought I’d be in this situation at 44 years of age! But I don’t think an in-between cyber relationship will work. I think it will have to be all or nothing, and I just don’t know what to do! It’s frustrating at times. She has begged me not to go yet I still wonder if I’m doing either of us any good by sticking around. My life may be passionless right now as it tends to get with age, but I could never love anyone like I love my husband and I would never leave him under any circumstances. Almost anyone who’s been married as long as I have has made the right choice in who they married. Yet gay or straight, we all have our little crushes and attractions along the way. Sometimes we even love some of them. And while she’ll always have a special place in my heart, she and I are never going to be together and that’s that. This is why I hope to hell, for her sake, she meets Ms. Right. I’d really love to see her with someone who makes her as happy as she says I make her. Someone she loves and lusts and that loves and lusts her in return. I know she wants this, too. As I told her, though, Ms. Right better treat her right or I’ll make her sit on a cactus!

Like I said, I just don’t know what to do. She told me that she really wanted to see me but her heart is saying it wouldn’t be wise. In that case, she should follow her heart. What could we do if she came out here anyway? Sure, it would be nice to visit. That much goes without saying. But what else could we do? Stare at each other hungrily and wish we could fuck each other’s brains out? Actually, do just that? Well, I have thought of this, but I think I would feel like I was cheating even though there’s nothing to “cheat” on. My husband and I have been basically damn good, loving friends for a while now and have fallen into a comfortable routine where that’s concerned. So since friends can’t literally cheat on friends, why should I feel guilty?

I don’t know why. I just know I would. At least I’m pretty sure I would. Besides, sex isn’t a top priority for most people my age.

If I were single I wouldn’t hesitate to get it on with her and even try a relationship with her. I don’t know what the relationship would be like. Maybe it’d be great, maybe just so-so, or maybe it’d be a disaster. I’ll never know and I don’t want to find out no matter how much of a “what if” trip I may take within my mind at times about that and all kinds of other things. And I think it’s safe to say we’ve all taken a walk down the “what if” path at times. Maybe me more so than most, since I tend to be highly curious by nature.

As I’ve said many times before, I sometimes think the best thing to do would be to just cut her off so I wouldn’t be around to frustrate her and preoccupy so much of her time with a dead-end, hopeless relationship. I know I personally am getting sick of the 20 emails a day thing. Not because I don’t enjoy hearing from her and what she has to say, but because it’s eating so much of my own time and is very distracting. I have enough of a social life as it is (more so than I’d planned on) and so many other things I both need and want to be doing. We’d miss each other and it would hurt for a while, but we could always peek in on each other’s journals from time to time to see what’s going on in each other’s lives.

Yet I know that if I “dumped” her I’d feel guilty as hell. I don’t want to push her away and make her feel like a piece of shit. She’s human. She has feelings. And I don’t want to hurt her. Yes, I know I need to think of my own self as well, but I don’t want to just throw her away either. Not unless she herself felt she needed to pull away because like I said, I don’t think we could “cut back” on each other. I think that in our case, only all or nothing will work.

A part of me wishes she would take the honors and be the one to cut me off because then I wouldn’t have anything to have the frustration of having to decide. Another part of me wishes we’d never contacted each other in the first place. And yet another part of me doesn’t regret a minute of it and has found it to be just as fun and as interesting as it is time-consuming and annoying.

God, what do I do???

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 2010 While I was proofreading the last chunk of my bio to post earlier today – yeah, it always has to be while I’m trying to work – I could hear the ATV zooming up and down the drive, so I figured there’d be something going on today. Then our pestlord came down, got something from his shit pile, then took off. Before he did, though, Whiskey ran right up to me and said hello. Jesse said they were supposed to be here now (at 10:30) to cut the wood up and wasn’t sure if they’d be around or not. But they showed up shortly afterward and are now driving me nuts with the obnoxious buzzing of the chainsaw, followed by loud thunks as they load the back of the pickup with the wood. It’s actually Jesse’s dad and his brother. Jesse and the dogs are who knows where right now. Jesse had told Tom he thought he might have to work today and tomorrow, but I knew by how quiet it was when I got up that he wasn’t working. He could’ve gone in late, though, cuz if he were here I would think he’d be down here helping.

How many days this particular project will take, I do not know, but does it matter? As soon as they’re done with this it’ll be off to something else, so who cares?

They’re just now leaving (at noon) with a truckload of wood, but there’s still a lot more wood to cut up and it will probably be days before they’re done. I wouldn’t be surprised if they returned later on.

The brother had asked Tom if he’s seen any bobcats around here. I guess some people he knows who don’t live very far from here have seen some, but I’m not worried. Those are nocturnal and I’m never out at night.

Got the few things I ordered from Sephora. I’d say their products are undersized and overpriced, but it was nice to try some of their stuff. The lip stain works great. I can wear my lip gloss over it and you can still see a hint of color. Also, the Tom Ford Black Orchid perfume was to die for, as well as my Pink Sugar.

Last night I realized something about jinx-writing. At least I think I’m onto something where that’s concerned. If I’m right about the pattern I think I’m seeing, then I better get writing if people will stop distracting me long enough. When I thought back to the things I’ve written in stories or letters that have come true or sort of come true, they seemed to have been written “on location.” The story where the chick gets framed and falls for a guard who likes her in return was written where I lived at the time in Phoenix. Some of it took place there anyway, within my mind. I wrote in my parents’ letter that I “did intend to win a vehicle someday” back in the motel, and then we got news that we won the ATV before they gave us a cash equivalent. Then there’s my story with the semi-triangle which I set right here. I purposely had one of the lead characters in yet another story come into enough money to buy a house hoping it’d jinx it into happening, but it didn’t. That one was set in a totally fictitious place. I guess it can’t hurt to do another story set here and bring some serious money into it and see what happens, but right now I have other projects I still need to finish.

Marie always puts a smile on my face and makes me laugh in real life, but in Dreamland last night she did anything but that! Yeah, it was a rather violent dream, LOL, though it was me doing the violence. Well, I tried anyway. I can’t imagine what she could do to piss me off so bad, and I’m not in the habit of throwing punches at someone who’s got 7 inches and 25 pounds on me, but I was furious for some reason. This seemed to amuse Marie, though, who simply caught my fists in midair before they could make contact with her. This pissed me off even more while it made her laugh harder. “What are you gonna do now? Tell me to shove a broom handle up my ass?”

“No, try a pinecone this time, bitch!” I screamed as I tried to pull away.

Then she sternly said, “Calm down, Jodi Lin” and I suddenly felt like an idiot for taking such a childish shitfit, but was kind of turned on at the same time by the way she held me. I woke up before I could learn why I was so pissed at her and what happened next.

It’s kind of funny when I think of how Donna dumped me for writing in my journal in 1992 that she was a bitch, while I told Marie to her face to go shove a broom handle up her ass and she said, “Don’t worry. We all get mad at times.” She is definitely a very loyal and faithful friend. Of course, we also don’t think of each other as just “friends.”

It hit me that while it wasn’t the impression I got, maybe Jan didn’t own the store. And so I messaged Betsy and told her of this possibility, and gave her a physical description of Jan as well. She replied by saying her mother didn’t have long dark hair and she never sold incense and is as conservative as conservative can be.

The reply, as with the first one, seemed legit. With one small catch. What does her being conservative have to do with anything? You know, as in a lesbian writing a story about a woman she has a crush on? Of course, she could’ve read my journal too, I don’t know.

Like I said, I don’t know what to think at this point, but I can’t think of anything else I can do to find her.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 2010 I am sooo happy for Marie right now! She got that really good paying job she wanted and will be working graves! As I told her, I’m so happy for her but so sad for us as we continue to have no choice but to sit here and watch life pass us by. We’re just as capable as the next person yet we can’t have jobs. This is a classic example of what I mean when I sometimes get pissed when people insist God loves everybody and doesn’t single out and pick on anyone. Either way, I’ve already known for some time now that we’re going to be dirt poor the rest of our lives no matter how hard we try to get ahead. Nothing we can do about it. You can’t change fate. So knowing this, why am I still having such a hard time accepting it? Why can’t I accept the fact that some people will go from okay jobs to great jobs while we go from nothing to nothing? It’s not like we never tried to change things. We did. But something up there just won’t let us! It sure feels that way anyway. Hey, somebody’s gotta be the underdog, right? So why not have it be us and not some lazy asshole who doesn’t even want to work! Well, I can always kill myself if I get that sick and tired of being stuck in this rut. It may be hopeless for us, but at least Marie has a shot at getting the things she wants in life. She says she wants a new Jeep Cherokee and that she will be out to see me by the spring of 2012 if the world doesn’t end by then (I sometimes wish it would), sooner if she can swing it. And I was seriously starting to doubt she’d get the job since the interview was weeks ago! I just didn’t want to say anything.

Oh, what the hell, we’ll be alright. Living poorly and without insurance isn’t the end of the world. We’ve done it for years, we can keep on doing it.

Tom just got up and said that Marie’s getting this job should show that that’s a sign of hope and that things are turning around and that we’ll get our turn, too.

Yeah, when?

Jesse and his brother were down yesterday to begin the tree expedition. They dragged up some trees, so their 90-year-old dad can have firewood, and next they have to cut them up. When they do this will depend on the weather. And of course, this may take more than one day to do. Then we’ve still got the fake grass project to deal with, plus whatever other projects he feels he just has to move on to afterward. I really wish we’d been told up front that there would be so much activity on the land and that the dogs would go crazy half the year whenever he leaves. He left yesterday on the motorcycle after working down here, though, and all was quiet, probably because the dogs were all worn out by then.

I had fun playing with the dogs and even took some pictures of them. They sure got us filthy, though, LOL. The ground’s still muddy with all the rain we’ve been having, so when they’d jump on us they’d get dirt on us. I sometimes think it’d be cool to have a dog as big as Whiskey. He can wrap his arms right around my waist and hug me!

The bad news is that the people in back didn’t lose their dogs after all, and Tom saw one of them running around loose. I could hear it barking its ass off, so unless someone was there with it, we may have to deal with them again. They come onto the land and just stand there barking insanely loud at nothing at all. Just like Jesse instructed, I’ll call Animal Patrol if I see them 3 times. It may not cause them to lose them, but it gets them to tie them up if only for a while.

Man, that’s bold. I mean, those are some pretty brazen fucks to STILL be letting their dogs run around loose after not only all the calls and complaints they’ve received but after they attacked Jesse’s dogs AND killed one of the goats up the hill. But as we all know, some people just don’t give a damn about anything or anyone. Not even their own dogs, which amazingly, no one’s shot as of yet. I wonder if they at least try to when they come onto their land, and that’s the few scattered shots I sometimes hear that I know aren’t coming from them.

Later…

I love a good mystery to ponder, but this one’s gotten a bit frustrating! Let me back up and take it from the beginning. When I first looked up Jan I found a Janice Lynn H in Klamath Falls. She was born in 1951 and so was James H, said to be her relative. Also listed as relatives were Betsy, Bradley and Brianne, who range in age from 23-31. I looked everybody up but couldn’t find anything for free for Jan. Just a long email, which is replaced with an * symbol, that you have to pay to see. Not worth paying for, I located and contacted the kids on Facebook, who are definitely related to each other because they’re on each other’s friend lists. I also thought the daughters bore a resemblance to Jan as well.

I also found the husband’s work email and contacted him, though I sent him a letter and the start of the story. For the others, I simply asked to have Jan contact me.

When no one replied a week later, I thought they were simply a bit freaked out by the story and that that was why they hadn’t contacted me. What could they say anyway? On the other hand, wouldn’t you reply and at least let the person know they had the wrong person if you received a letter and a story you knew nothing about?

Then I got a reply from Betsy on Facebook saying her mother never owned a store in K-Falls. Also, her name was Janice, yes, but she goes by Lynn. While it may be ironic that I get this right after replying to the bogus feedback, I searched again and found a Janis I H born in 1954, also in K-Falls. What was strange was that that same long email addy was associated with this name as well.

I looked up all addresses I could find for both Jan’s and viewed them by satellite to see if any appeared to be a duplex since she had said she lived in one, but couldn’t tell from the pictures.

I searched myself to see what relatives came up. Nothing came up for my maiden name in MA, and the only one that came up with my married name was in AZ and that was one of Tom’s brothers.

This leaves 3 possibilities. 1. Jan had Betsy tell me what she told me to throw me off and into thinking I’d contacted the wrong Jan and the wrong family members. 2. They really are the wrong Jan and the wrong family members. 3. I’m remembering the wrong last name.

MONDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2010 I saw Marie online and couldn’t resist saying hi on Messenger, but we missed each other. We’ve been swapping emails, though, as usual.

I got a kick out of how she described me as her “sweet, sometimes mouthy Jodi Lin” in her journal. Yeah, I’m sometimes mouthy, alright, LOL! She cracks me up with some of the things she says.

An old friend from Kiwibox (Andree in Canada) joined LiveMocha and sent me a friend invite. I still can’t believe they’re ignoring my messages about not getting my free travel course for the 3 referrals. I didn’t think they’d pull such a scam. How do they expect people to go premium if they’re just going to ignore and rip people off?

I had another “walk on our land” dream last night. Now why can’t I have more of them?! One problem, though. There were playing cards scattered all over it for some reason, LOL. Mostly aces.

SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 2010 My man is snoring like a freight train right now and my lady is working and looking forward to the Super Bowl (boring). I hope her Colts make her happy and win anyway!

Speaking of Marie – and I guess she wouldn’t mind my saying this much – I won’t say why, but I got pissed at her and told her to go shove a broom handle up her ass (Tom thought that was mean). I was prepared for the consequences of blowing up like that to result in her telling me off and maybe even dumping me, but instead she took it quite well and even got a bit of a kick out of it, asking where I come up with some of the shit I come up with. Guess it’s just the creative writer in me, LOL!

Anyway, this is just one more reason I love her; she lets me get mad when I need to, just like she lets me express my fears and worries when I need to. Not that I could ever regret Tom, but it totally figures that I would just have to meet what sure seems like the woman of my dreams 15½ years AFTER getting married.

I’ve always had those “naughty girl” fantasies where whenever I’d get pissed at a woman (and we all do get pissed at each other at times), I’d get to go off on her. Then, instead of flying off the deep end she’d laugh and get me laughing as well.

The way she said, “I’m here if you need anything” after reading the entry about my dad was totally touching. No one’s ever cared about me like that other than Tom. They’ve cared, but not really, really cared. They’d say something like, “Hope your dad’s okay,” which is fine and certainly better than nothing. But “I’m here if you need anything” definitely isn’t something I’m used to hearing.

The way she says, “I love you, Jodi Lin,” using both my first and middle name has a way of really sending my heart aflutter and the dirtiest of thoughts racing through my mind.

I tease her about being a profitable girlfriend cuz she joined one of those money-making sites that helps me earn more because of it.

Holy shit, I just realized something. Nothing bad, but certainly strange and uncanny in a way. When I use real-life characters in my books I never like to have anything bad happen to those I love because I’ve actually jinx-written certain things to happen, and like I said before, life really does have a way of imitating art at times. When discussing the plot for Rainbow Dreams, I consulted with Tom, as I often do, for various ideas. I wasn’t sure whether or not to go with a murder mystery or a triangle of sorts, though it sort of ended up being a little of both. Tom and I both agreed that I was too old to be caught up in any kind of a triangle, not that I’m in a position to meet many people anyway, and not that I’d ever get caught in any kind of a dangerous triangle or anything like that if I were. But it’s still quite a coincidence that Marie comes along and here I am, twice blessed, twice loved, and feeling torn at times while I know I could never leave Tom. Frustrated is more of an appropriate word than torn, I guess you could say. I want them both!

Tom’s ear is finally getting better enough that he can get more of his own work done. He was so deaf in that ear that he lost our mailbox key. It was in the pocket on the side of the infected ear and he never heard it fall to the floor. Fortunately, it’s only $5 to get a new key.

Last night I dreamt that I saw Tammy somewhere. We were actually talking about something, though I don’t know what it was about or where we were. We were polite and civilized, though not friendly. As I started to walk away I abruptly turned around, walked back to her, and gave her a hug. She hugged me too, then I walked off. “Your hair’s too long again, you bitch,” she joked to my retreating back. Without turning back I raised an arm, flipped her off, but kept on walking.

I was reading some of the shit they wrote to me last summer when we were all pissed at each other, particularly Sarah’s message and I’m like, never had an aunt, my ass. I’m sorry but I sent those kids letters regularly, I called the house regularly, and sometimes I sent little gifts. Who does she think she’s kidding? That shit wasn’t from Santa Claus.

On the other hand, she would’ve been too young to remember much. That’s why I laughed when she tried to say she remembered “the letters I’d send.” The only one she could possibly remember was the one from Oregon which I sent 4-5 years ago that wasn’t the least bit rude or mean. I might’ve said some things they didn’t want to hear, but the letter, which my folks also received a copy of, was proper and polite in every way. So unless someone sent a nasty letter pretending to be me, someone somewhere is bullshitting someone.

I’m pissed at the language learning site I use. I was supposed to get a free travel course for 3 referrals but never received it. So all I ended up doing was wasting Marie, Paul and Dorian’s time. Sorry guys!

Read Alison’s second chapter of her story which is total Harlequin/Silhouette romance material, and Paul sends me chapters from Changeling, the book he’s working on now, as he completes them. Man, I wish I could crank out as much as he does and so fast! As I told him, it’s obvious he doesn’t have ADHD.

Dorene, not the one who was at Valleyhead the same time I was there, thought my Facebook account had been hacked. I guess she didn’t realize that Formspring was supposed to be posting updates there, but yeah, it posts to FB and Twitter.

I have a really good story idea (this one actually came while I was awake) and even a title to go with it: Digital Confessions. But I have the story in Italy and the Jan story to work on. Why do I have to get ideas faster than I can put them into print?

The Jan story’s on hold right now because I’m not sure where to go next with it. I’ve been getting some suggestions and some ideas of my own, but I tend to write in spurts anyway, so it could be several months before it’s complete.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 6, 2010 I called Dad yesterday and our chat left me both happy and sad. I was very sad to hear he’d had yet ANOTHER heart attack and was laid up in the hospital for a week. But I was very happy to hear him sounding so chipper and jovial. He seemed coherent enough and even talked sort of like an excited kid would, going from subject to subject. He was always less reserved when mom wasn’t around. She was at the store when I called.

I guess they were getting worried because they tried calling for days, but no one answered. So I reminded him yet again – yeah, his memory’s getting shaky – that we keep our ringers off cuz we get so many wrong numbers and sales calls unless we’re expecting a specific call. I also let him know I had a list of contacts I carried in my purse so that if Tom and I were ever killed in a car wreck, God forbid, they would be notified.

I was starting to get worried about them too, cuz it had been a couple of months since we talked. They haven’t written either, though I know most people hate to write.

We talked about all kinds of things, mainly the economy and our hopes for the future. He told me a couple of things that were funny even though they’re not. His roommate in the hospital kept reciting the bible and waking him up, LOL. I can empathize and relate to this, too! I had a celly in jail that would recite 100 Hail Marys every hour, sometimes waking me up. No problem, though, cuz every time dinner was served, I just had to use the toilet. grins I told him I’m not only sorry I couldn’t visit but that I couldn’t have maybe accidentally slipped a few feeder mice in the guy’s bed that had accidentally fallen into my pocket on the way in. Or at least have fun joking about the idea!

Their low of 29º was even funnier. That’s only 2º warmer than the low of 27º we had in December!

He assured me things would turn around, which is what Tom says, and I hope they’re right. It’s sure taking forever, though!

What left me feeling sad is knowing that there are only so many more heart attacks he can survive, and the deadly one is only inevitable and just a matter of time. When I hung up it hit me that that could’ve been our last talk. Despite our past problems, it sucks not to be able to run over and visit if only long enough just to say hi and give them a hug, but like he said, there’s still the phone and the mail.

I even got to thinking about Tammy and how we used to talk and bust each other’s asses when we’d tease each other about whatever, and said to myself, “Come on, get over the past. What’s done is done. She’s not perfect, you’re not perfect, everybody fucks up at times, so just move on and accept that.” But I know it wouldn’t be good for either of us as we’re just too different and it’d only be a matter of time before we got into another fight or one of the kids accused me of some stupid thing I didn’t do. My inability to forgive has been an issue for a while now anyway, and I still wonder if a big part of me actually likes it this way. Either way, I hope Tammy and the kids are doing well.

When I think about us owning a house around the time he’s 55 in 2½ years, it seems like it would have to happen, since A, he should be working by the time he’s 54 to give him the year of work he’d need to take out a loan. B, our credit should be good. And C, we should get around 20K in pension money. So with all these things being very likely to occur, wouldn’t it be safe to say that “going home” is a perfectly reasonable expectation? Could be, but with one possible catch and that’s that the house may not be the ideal house or in the ideal location. I’d still prefer either a retirement community or to get some land with some space around the house. The last thing I want is an old bummy “tooth house” jammed in tightly between other houses in the mainstream where it’d be back to non-stop car stereos, barking, wild kids, and a whole lot more.

But it would be OURS!

Eileen just sent an email saying, “I just finished reading Rainbow Dreams. It held my attention and I was interested in the characters. Having read your journal I was able to connect the dots! Thanks for sharing!”

My next subject is Marie. She frustrates me and eats up a lot of my time and it’s starting to get old. Yet I know I’d miss her if I cut her off and that that would hurt her immensely. I asked if she thought she’d be better off if I did let her go so she could be free to concentrate on finding someone else who’s available, but she begged me not to go. She did, however, say that there’s this cashier that seems interested in her, and some married chick who’s curious.

I still want to see her, but I’m also afraid she may complicate things even more if she did visit, and especially if she moved nearby.

When I told her of my feelings, she wondered if it were a Dear John letter, and a part of me wanted to say, “Fuck this shit and fuck you! Go shove a broom handle up your ass, and then find the light at the end of the tunnel you know is waiting for you!”

I hope she’s right about that light being there too, and that she’s just got to find it. It’s bad enough to know you’ll never realize a certain dream in life, but even worse to have false hope. She could simply be meant to be alone forever, as sad and as unfair as that may be. God gives us certain things and He denies us certain things, too. I don’t know why, but God gave me love, looks and brains while He took lust, money and sleep from me.

As jealous as I’d be, I really do hope Marie finds someone who is single and available to her that she loves and that loves her in return. What’s really frustrating Marie right now is Melanie. First Mel was all emotionless about the thought of Marie leaving, but then she started crying and saying that even though they haven’t been together, her being there makes her happy. Yet Marie’s not happy and she wants out. The only problem with that is that her only way out right now is on the streets, and that’s certainly no alternative for her.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 2010 Not much to update today. Dad left a message yesterday saying I didn’t have to call back, he was just checking in, and everything was okay on his end. But I think I’ll call them anyway later on today and touch base since it’s been a while. I’m glad he called. I was starting to get a little worried and thinking of calling anyway. We talk every few months or so and I try to write every month.

Eileen hadn’t responded to my stories because they never made it to her and she’s been preoccupied with having to take her husband to the ER. I re-sent them to her and she confirmed that she got them. I hope her hubby’s okay!

The 3 stories I wrote with Marie in mind are now published on girl-directory and already made the top 3 spots! They’re the only 5-star stories right now.

Tom ran into Jesse at the fork when he was bringing the trash up (what, is he waiting in the drive for us now? LOL) and he said he may be down to drag up the dead trees a few hours later after he gets his kid, but if he was, I miraculously slept through it. I don’t think he was, though. He was nice enough to say that he’d make sure I was up when he comes to push the fake grass strips into place. That was nice, but I’m sure he’ll wake me up enough of the time anyway with all the many projects he’s got going. He’s not going to be able to do much over the next few days, though, with all the rain we’ve been having.

Because Marie was a very good girl by signing up at another of those money sites, I promised her a chat this morning, LOL, though I’d still chat even if she were bad! I got her letter yesterday. It’s so nice to have something tangible from her. The letter smelled good, too.

THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 2010 Paul reviewed my story and said I was getting better at hanging chapters. I guess I must be doing better at portraying characters since flakey is exactly what I had in mind for the Scarlett character. Still gotta work on the dead action thing, though.

There were only a few changes I made in his edits. For once, he threw that Celtic word in, and there was also one misspelled word and an extra space between a few words/sentences. I also changed one word from the English spelling to the American spelling. That’s the only thing that makes following his books a little hard at times, despite how well they’re written. US and UK English differ.

I’m sure there’s more about the story I’m forgetting to mention, so I’ll add anything I think of later on. I’m still not even sure where to go next with it.

Tom emailed me a really neat article showing this huge rodent. I’ve never heard of the thing, but it’s called a capybara and is a semi-aquatic rodent of South America. It weighs about a hundred pounds and is about 2 feet tall. It’s not as cute as a rat, but it must be pretty mellow to be sitting next to a guinea pig. A rat would attack a guinea pig and cannot be mixed with other animals, while I’ve been able to mix rabbits, guinea pigs and hamsters before, as well as mice and guinea pigs. You can’t mix hamsters and gerbils either. Tom wants one of these, but I don’t know where you’d find one or enough about them to say what they’re like. Of all the rodents I’ve had for pets, rats are still by far the best cuz of their high intelligence. I also think they’re way cuter than guinea pigs and other rodents. I’d be afraid of getting bit by something so big, though. A rat can break your finger. This thing looks like it could bite your arm right off! And how does the owner keep it from chewing up her house? Sorry, but all rodents love to chew, though some are worse than others. Puerco’s the worst we ever had in that department and that’s why I can’t let him lose much.

Marie emailed me a copy of a graded paper and asked my opinion on her writing. As she herself admits, she’s not much of a writer as opposed to a forensics person. As I told her, though, her vocabulary and grammar seem good, but her sentence structuring needs work. She runs too much together and doesn’t always use proper use of caps, paragraphs and punctuation.

We were talking about our lives, both past and present, and our hopes for the future. “You never know,” I told her. “I just might be wife #3 in your next life.”

She said, “No, you’ll always be my #1.”

Aw, how sweet.

So anyway, knowing she’s going to be busy since she has a couple of assignments due on Friday, I’m going to be working on other things. Work’s been kind of sucky so I’m doing mostly writing.

Tom is still asleep, of course, and if Jesse isn’t working, all will remain peaceful at least until he goes out. That’s usually between 9am - noon on non-workdays, according to Whiskey.

WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 3, 2010 I cut my bangs back and I guess I’m backing up Jesse’s shit tank, too. Oops! But I thought tampons were both sewer and septic-safe! Tom ran into him when he was cleaning up some brush in the drive, and he said something to the effect of being careful what we put down it. He also said he disconnected his landline because he didn’t see the point in paying for both that and his cell while he wasn’t working.

Hmm… could Mr. King of the Hill not be so well off after all? Even we can afford an extra $40 a month.

Tom took the car in for emissions inspections and it passed, even though California’s one of the toughest places to pass emissions.

If all goes well, this will be my second day without backaches. Tom’s kind enough to offer to rub my back for me when it gets bad, but it doesn’t relieve it for long.

I chatted with Marie for an hour yesterday morning on Yahoo’s messenger, then I got the pictures her coworker took of her which came out great. She certainly looks fine for her age! There was even a little video and I had to laugh because when I mentioned it to her she said, “Shit! A video? I didn’t know that. I must’ve looked like a dufus.”

I forwarded it to her so she could see that she didn’t look like a dufus at all. It was only for two seconds, though, and mostly focused on the floor, but it was nice to see my Marie in motion for a second there and to hear her deep sexy voice.

I let her in on contacting Jan’s husband with the story and together we laughed at the reaction Jan must’ve had on account of the whole thing. After all, I can’t share it with Mr. Paranoid here. At least not yet. She said, “Geez, Jodi, you got brass ones! Her eyes were probably the size of silver dollars.”

I showed her a copy of the letter and she said it was a very nice letter and not at all perverted. Oh yeah, I would never send anyone a perverted letter, LOL. Well, maybe just to her.

TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 2010 I went back into Jigsaw to see if anything had changed, and to my surprise, it had. I had marked Jim’s email as no good and someone updated it to a good one. I didn’t think it would be on a Sunday. So, I sent the letter/story and wish to hell I could’ve been a fly on the wall when Jan heard about it and read the story!!! I can’t guarantee that that was really her husband I sent it to or that she even heard about it if it was, but I’d say there’s a pretty damn good chance it was and that she read the story, too. If it wasn’t him, wouldn’t he have replied saying I had the wrong person? Well, if no one contacts me I’m not going to contact them. I accomplished my goal; to let her know I liked her, give her my journal link, and share the start of the story she inspired.

Man, I wish I could know what she thought of it if she did read it. Was she impressed? Spooked? Amused? Flattered? Disgusted? Angry?

I hope she wasn’t spooked, angry or disgusted, but I don’t know much about her, so how she took it would depend on how open she is to another woman being attracted to her and including her in a story she wrote. I can’t control how she feels and will never know just what she does feel. Whatever it is, I’m not surprised I didn’t get a reply. I really wasn’t expecting one.

Had a dream that I hope to hell was just a nasty dream and not a sign of trouble to come. Usually, when I have dream premonitions warning of trouble ahead, they’re of a quick scene that makes sense as opposed to a series of disjointed images like I had this time around, but it was still scary enough. Scary enough to drive me out of bed after just a few hours of sleep and run crying to Tom, although he assured me we’re fine.

I guess we were running out of food and something went wrong with our finances and we knew there’d be no way we could get any money before the food ran out, and therefore, we would starve to death. In real life, we wouldn’t let ourselves starve to death if there was no way we could afford to eat and survive. We’d kill ourselves and get it over with quickly rather than let ourselves suffer and slowly die off. But I guess that’s what was happening in the dream. I told myself to do this and do that cuz in a few days I wouldn’t have the strength to do anything.

But then the dream changed to us temporarily moving into an apartment until we died, which fortunately makes no sense. If we couldn’t afford to eat, we couldn’t afford to move. Not even to the tiniest, dumpiest apartment around.

Then, what looked like a totally fictitious character from a book of mine, was pulling a 50-foot electrical cord from her place to ours so we could have electricity.

Then things really got terrifying when the earthquake hit in the next dream. I guess I had been knocked out cuz when I slowly came to, I found my legs pinned beneath a boulder. I heard shouts all around me, including Marie’s. I couldn’t see her, but I recognized her voice. I began to cry for help and saw one of the paramedics look at me then turn to others I couldn’t yet see and say, “No, there’s no one left alive in this area. She’s the only one we got.”

So now I’m freaking out over the thought of Tom being dead, wanting to die myself if that were the case, begging them not to save me. But then Marie jumped into view and after hopelessly begging someone to help lift the rock off me in the midst of all the commotion, she turned into the bionic woman out of sheer frustration and determination and lifted the boulder off saying, “Hang on, babe. We’re gonna get you out of here and then you’ll go home with me.”

I told her that I loved her dearly, but insisted that I wanted to die if Tom was gone and that I would be too much money for her to deal with anyway if I could no longer walk. She wouldn’t hear it, though. She just threw the boulder aside with superhuman strength and started dragging me down this hill, and that’s all I remember.

So I went from starving with Tom to hopelessly begging Marie not to save me.

Like I said, I ran crying to Tom like a kid and he not only reassured me but said he had to leave Jesse a note about not paying the rent till the 5th cuz his phone’s been disconnected. So then I go freaking out about that next, wondering if he’s losing the place, but Tom pointed out that that’s not a possibility. He’d have told us, and we’re still connected down here, so he might’ve changed the number or decided his cell phone was enough. Yeah, I suppose he has a point there. After all, I always did say he seemed well off with his fancy house and fleet of vehicles.

It took me a while to fall back asleep. I was shaking and crying and hoping to God we’ll be okay. The thought of stressing out over our survival for the rest of my life, assuming we really do survive in the first place, is a real killer on me! Not that I didn’t have other problems before leaving Arizona, but I miss the days when worrying about our survival wasn’t one of them. I guess we’re good with the unemployment checks till July or September. I don’t have to be a political, financial or economical wizard to know there’s no way Tom’s going to find work this year. No way. And so I still live in the fear that they’ll cut us off before he does. The government’s crazy like that. They don’t care if millions of their own end up starving in the streets. All they care about is giving our money to other countries and taking care of them! No one could help us if they cut our checks cuz they’re either struggling themselves, or they could help us, but just don’t give a damn and are probably keeping their fingers crossed and praying that we don’t make it.

But I also know we can’t live forever and yeah, we might have to kill ourselves to escape starving in the streets. Or we may get cancer in a decade or so instead and die that way. Or we may live to be incredibly old. Either way, we all gotta go someday, and I also know that even if we suddenly had all the financial security in the world, we’d just go right into a whole new problem for me to worry about.

Marie.

I can’t get her off my mind. I love and lust for her like crazy! It hurts knowing we can never be together and that it can never be her that I sometimes go running crying to when I freak out over nightmares, but just to have her in my life is a tremendous blessing in itself. Marie may not have the perfect life any more than I do, but I feel very blessed to have someone like her care about me the way she does along with Tom. Not that I haven’t met others who cared about me, but until Marie, Tom was the only other one who truly loved and accepted me as I was without conditions. I fantasized about a woman like Marie for so long but was sure she didn’t exist.

Well, I hope the financial security and home I’ve also fantasized about exists, too!

[pagetreader]

He had to be right about their paths crossing in a way other than romantically – even if they seemed to be ignoring that fact by indulging in one another every time they were within the other's proximity. It was hard to avoid each other when they were pretending to be engaged. 

Yes. Surely that must be it. They were merely meant to meet, although Clara couldn’t imagine what she could possibly add to Benjamin’s life. Even if she did admit to living only for him now, she had no right to give him love.

Clara had no right to give love to anyone. Not anymore. It was selfish of her to have ever tried. Now Benjamin would surely be left hurting because of her. That’s all she could do now: hurt people. 

"All this being bedridden is a fate far worse than death," he remarked through a wheeze, his broken ribs taking their toll on him after he’d so blatantly ignored them for far too long.

Soon now, the herbs she’d put in his ale would take their effect and he’d drift back to sleep, but until then, she would remain by his side. It might very well be the last time they saw one another now that he’d told her about Wofford and his potential whereabouts.  

“If you continue to overdo it, then you’ll wind up bedridden for far longer,” she warned. 

The toy palomino remaining between their enclosed palms, Clara had used her free hand to dab at Benjamin’s perspiring forehead when he hoarsely asked, "Could you maybe...tell me about your life before?"

Given the fact that she’d just told him about Daniel, her darling boy, whose death she’d kept silent about since that fateful morning (even to Silas), it was only natural that Benjamin would wish to know about the rest of her life. 

Features softening as she gingerly dabbed at his temple, she nodded and thought of a good starting point. 

“I grew up in Lexington. My father, Asher Campbell II, inherited money and legacy from his father and his father’s father – from my great great grandfather, Joseph Campbell, who built his fortune by starting Campbell Logging Co. back when the colonies were first founded.” 

She paused for a moment, knowing that the reveal of her comfortable upbringing was no doubt a surprise. After abandoning the cloth and settling her free hand on his chest, she continued. 

“I’ve three older siblings, two brothers and a sister."

Not one had spoken to her since she’d left to be married. Knowing her family well enough, she was certain they went on with their lives as though she were dead. It was easier for them to believe than the truth. 

“Silas was the son of August Cassidy, a ranch owner and one of his slaves, Abilene. He never married and never had any other children, so when he died he freed both Abilene and Silas and left them the property, which eventually was seized by the locals who didn’t think they should have it. Abilene died shortly thereafter, leaving Silas to work odd jobs to make ends meet. Eventually, he found his way to Lexington. We met one morning while my mother, sister, and I were out shopping. His horse had trotted too close and splashed mud onto my skirts. I was livid and he found that amusing. Somehow, my father wound up hiring him for work on the property, and suddenly we couldn't escape each other...it didn't take us long to realize we didn't want to.” 

Clara’s eyes were fixed on her memories, far away from where she was physically. She smiled and laughed softly as she shook her head. 

“Silas was infuriating…clever, genuine, and brutally honest…He showed me a side of life that felt more real than anything I’d ever known growing up in an ivory tower..."

“You make it sound more like a plague,” Clara teased, though her tone lacked conviction.

Benjamin smiled weakly. "Perhaps it is," he murmured. "There's no escape either way...it's all-consuming. And here I am, willingly being consumed."

Clara peered back at him in stunned silence, and suddenly he could no longer take her eyes on him -- or rather, the pained disbelief that glossed her vision and threatened to spill over at any moment.

“But why?” she asked him. “Why me?” 

"Do all good things come with answers?" Benjamin softly asked. "I don't know, Clara, nor do I have an explanation for why our lives have been spared again and again. But truly...if we are not meant to be together, then surely we've been called to help one another in some way?" He squeezed her hand on his arm. "All I know is I've been drawn to you since the very start...even when you were waving that damnable musket in my face." He grinned, chuckling at the memory, only to give a seething hiss from the pain radiating from his ribs. Damnation... "That's still going to take some getting used to," he grumbled, indicating the injury. "All this being bedridden is a fate far worse than death."

With the toy horse still clasped between their hands, Benjamin attempted to calm his shallow breathing, perspiration clinging to his brow as he exhaled. "Could you maybe...tell me about your life before?" he rasped.

He didn't want to say husband outright, and most especially since Clara's loyalty and devotion spoke of someone far larger than life -- someone he wondered if he even stood a chance of comparing to. Even so, Benjamin wanted to know everything about this ghost, because what Clara loved, he appreciated by proxy. Her dead husband, after all, had been the one to love and protect the woman who Benjamin, himself, very much wished to love and protect. How could he not appreciate someone who'd once shared in his innermost desires?

[withoutpermissionarchive]

"A Good Dad" by Johnny Baker

What do you want your kids to say about you at your funeral?”

That’s a crazy question, right? Imagine trying to answer it while sitting in your first parenting class — inside a federal prison. I was 23 and the father of two children with another on the way when a judge sentenced me to more than 50 years behind bars for my involvement in a robbery spree. If you take a moment to do the math, you’ll realize that my children could be grandparents by the time I am released.

“Dad” is the most important name I have. After all is said and done, I want my kids to think I was funny, smart and the one they went to for help. A lot of guys in here think that’s impossible. It would be easy to give up and expect someone on the outside to take over and raise my children. But I don’t want my children to go through what I did.

My earliest memory of my parents is of them standing on our front porch, their hands cuffed behind their backs. I was 4 years old. My little brother Donny and I watched through tears from the inside of a police car. Our youngest brother, Derrick, had just passed away. Much later, we would learn that he had died of sudden infant death syndrome. But nobody knew it then. That night, the car took us away and we didn’t see our parents for more than a year.

When we all got back together, things were good until the “big fight”: Donny and I were playing with wooden blocks in our bedroom when we heard Mom screaming. I ran to the living room and found Dad holding her down on the couch. “Get a knife!” she yelled. Without thinking, I dashed toward the kitchen, but Dad slammed me into a wall. I was so scared that I hid under my bed. “Daddy is mad at me and Mommy,” I told Donny as we both cried. I was 6 years old and my family was never whole again.

When I was 9, my two brothers and I moved into a motel with Mom, where she had a job cleaning rooms. One day, she wouldn’t let me into the bathroom. At first, I didn’t know what the bad smell coming from the room was. Eventually, I found a glass pipe in the bathroom trash and an older friend, who sold drugs, told me it was crack.

Soon Mom was disappearing for days or weeks at a time. She would say she was going to get us pizza and not come back. Eventually, the hotel manager got mad and said we had to leave. Instead, I made a deal with him: He’d let us stay if I cleaned rooms, plus he agreed to pay me $1 for each room cleaned. I used that money to buy us food. We ate mac and cheese, mustard sandwiches and cereal. I made sure my younger brothers got to school every day while I worked. I dropped out of school before I even finished middle school.

Because I didn’t have any parental guidance as a child, I vowed that my children would never have to find their way in this world without me. Despite my promise, I made a horrible decision that left them without their dad. I was devastated. Every time I spoke on the phone with my oldest daughter, who was then 5, she asked where I was and when she could come see me. I didn’t know what to say, so I lied and said I was in the Army. But she continued to pepper her mother and me with questions until she was told the truth. During one phone call, she asked, “What were you thinking when you did that bad thing? Don’t you love us?” In that moment, I realized how selfish I had been. I later assured her that my love for them was everlasting, and promised to be honest from that day forward.

I recognized that I didn’t know the first thing about being a father; I’d had my first child at 17 so I enrolled in parenting classes and got a job in the prison’s education department. I figured that if I was surrounded by information, maybe I would start learning. In parenting classes, I discovered that communication is everything. Before I could develop a strong relationship with my kids, the communication had to be there, as well as listening. It’s how I can express my love.

I opened every avenue of communication available — phone, emails, letters. I talk to them every day. In the morning, I email wishing them a wonderful day at school. When they come home, another message is waiting. Each child gets their own 15-minute call to go over schoolwork with me, plus unlimited emails. We also work on personal projects together, sharing drawings and poetry. Expressing ourselves through art has drawn us closer.

Our calls aren’t about only schoolwork. I have given them advice about how to cook a new recipe or create a new hairstyle. We talk about music and even sing a few notes together. Sometimes we are so deep in conversation, we miss the beep warning us that the call is about to be cut off. The phone fees are costly in federal prison, but there is nothing I’d rather spend money on.

I have enormous admiration and respect for my son’s mother, as well as my fiancee, who is raising my daughters in their mother’s absence. Being a single parent is difficult, so I try to bear as much of the weight as I can from here. When my kids have arguments with friends or they are feeling down, they’ll email and ask me to call and talk it out. There are times when my daughters have stepped out of line at school and my fiancee and I coordinate cutting off their Internet access as a consequence. They know we always have a lesson to share with them.

Today, every decision I make involves my children. My life is dedicated to educating them and helping them reach their goals. My daughters are now 14 and 13, and my son is 9. The most valuable gifts that a parent can give are time and a listening ear. I have all the time in the world, and my ear is always here for them. When the day comes for them to speak at my funeral, I hope they’ll say I was the best dad.

[bdoubleowo]

I'm sure someone asked you before but, what program do you use to draw? I'm guessing procreate because a good amount of people use it, right?

No. I don’t use procreate lmao. Don’t have an iPad. (I use a Wacom Cintiq. And sometimes a mobilestudio pro when I can’t use my pc.)

I use Clip Studio Paint! It has a lot of the important features for illustration of photoshop, and has animation capabilities, but it’s a one time purchase! Instead of a subscription service! Fuck adobe -^_^-

It also goes on sale like all the time so. I cannot recommend it enough if you have a pc/laptop and a tablet.

I also have Toon Boom Harmony by Completely Legal Means tho I don’t use it as much. I’m still learning to use it lol. I used it for the boogiewoogiewoogie video and the “I saw dadbee kissing Santa doc” vid

I would post a picture of my setup but it’s kinda fucked rn due to me moving. the furniture hasn’t arrived yet so my entire computer is on the floor. I’m sitting on an air mattress rn while I play A Hat In Time <\3 And I can’t find any good pictures of it before I moved. So you’ll have to piece it together via several bad images sorry <\3 (ft. My cat!)

Things you can’t see: my Wacom was held up by a flex arm. So it could move around depending on how I feel like drawing. Also I had a tv on the wall just to the left and up. That was hooked up to the pc if I so chose. But it was a hand me down and kinda sucked lol. The arms of my chair were on the ground bc I like to sit cross legged sometimes and they got in the way, and when I tried to jam myself all the way into my desk it’d hit the desk. So I took them off.

Also I plan to get a new desk for the new house and fuckin drape the thing in led strips.

[14buddy22]

Father's Day 

Aaron Hotchner x Single Mom!Reader

Part 7!

WC: 5234

Series Masterlist // Masterlist

Everything was just right. You had gotten your pictures back from the photoshoot of your family. You wanted to surprise Aaron with the picture of him, Haley and Jack for Father’s Day. The photographer did a beautiful job editing her into it. You were going to surprise him for Father’s Day, but you also were working on another surprise for Aaron. You were getting ready to talk to your kids about how they would feel if Aaron could adopt them.

“Joey, Tyler, Grace, I want to talk to you while Aaron and Jack are out.” 

They climbed up next to you on the porch swing. They snuggled into you and you kissed your 3 kids on the forehead. 

“So, Father’s Day is coming up. This is the first father’s day we’re going to celebrate with Aaron. I was thinking that because Aaron and I are getting married in a couple weeks and because Grace already calls Aaron, Dad. How would you boys feel if Aaron adopted you? You still don’t have to call him dad, but if something were to happen to me, Aaron would raise you and take care of you so you three don’t have to be split up.” 

Tyler said, “That’d be so cool! He’d be our Dad! Jack’d be our brother!” 

Grace was on board already, she was babbling about her dad. She loved Aaron, their bond was so strong, everything you hoped for in their relationship. You imagined her sneaking in past curfew, her first boyfriend, first break up - Aaron being her go-to person. You know Grace would love it. 

Tyler, well he wasn’t calling him Dad yet but he was getting excited that Aaron would become his legal guardian. You think he was holding back on calling Aaron “dad” because Joey wasn’t calling him Dad yet and he was there when Joey lashed out on Grace for calling him Dad. 

Joey said, “I’ve been thinking about it Mom and I think I’d really like for Aaron to become my legal guardian. He’s going to become our stepdad soon, and I love Aaron like I loved Dad. I don’t know if I’m ready to call him Dad yet, but I’m ready for him to become my legal guardian. If something were to happen to you, I’d want Aaron to raise me.”

That brought tears to your eyes. You knew Joey had always had an internal struggle with choosing to be close with Aaron. That’s why it took so long for them to find something he had in common. Joey had talked to you about an interest in Aaron’s job but you weren’t wanting him to get that close to the job. You just weren’t ready to have Joey become interested in a job where Michael and Haley died. The job in which the bad guys had won.

“Joe. I’m very proud of you. You know that, right? You’ve really stepped up to being a big brother to Jack, you’ve found something in common with Aaron. I know it’s not something that’s the best, but it’s something unique to you honey. Just as Tyler goes golfing with him and Grace, well Grace just likes being around him in general.”

“He also coaches me. That’s something too.” 

“That is, baby.” 

You were so proud of your son, he was choosing to start seeing the good in this. You know Aaron would be proud of him too. Aaron always felt hesitant due to the fact that Joey had once told him that he never would be his father. That day still broke your heart, how you handled the situation is something you’ll never forget and you’ll regret no matter what. But, this was your son, your son who was old enough to know who his father was, at least for now, until the memory of Michael started to fade away and all Joey would only remember very little about him since he was so young. 

“We can’t tell Aaron about this, okay? Not until Father's day.”

Joey said, “How are we going to tell him?”

“I want to let you decide. I think you’ll come up with something special in your own way. Would you like to come up with an idea?” 

“Yeah.”

“Hey Mom, Joey?”

Joey looked at your youngest son and said, “What’s up, Tyler?”

“Can I call Aaron, Dad?”

You didn’t know how Joey was going to react. Joey and your son were close, but Tyler was also the closest to Aaron between your two boys. Maybe it was because Jack and Tyler were only a few months apart. But, then the reaction from your son made your heart melt.

“Of course you can Tyler, he is our Dad. I just don’t want to call him Dad yet, but I will soon.”

Joey and Tyler hugged and then Grace said, “Daddy!” 

She saw Aaron moving around in the kitchen and then Jack came running outside. Joey! Tyler! Grace! Do you want to go swimming?”

Tyler said, “Yeah!” 

The kids all went inside and you followed. Aaron was putting groceries away and said, “Hey honey!”

“Hi! How was your afternoon with Jack?” 

“It was nice. We had a good time.”

Joey, Gracie, and Jack had gone outside and Tyler was standing by you. Aaron was looking at a shopping list and he said, “I forgot BBQ sauce, damn it. But that’s okay, because I’ll go tomorrow after work.”

“Hey, dad?”

Aaron looked at Tyler and he said, “What’s up, buddy?”

Tyler said, “Are you going to come in the pool with us?” 

“Yeah buddy. I am. Come here.”

He looked at you then picked your son up. You didn’t realize Tyler would call him Dad so quickly, but you were happy he did and Aaron was happy. He may have been caught off guard but recovered when he saw Tyler was a little hesitant to call him that. 

Your son was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, something that your youngest two picked up on when they saw Aaron do it. It was cute, really, the little things that they’d pick up on. Even all your kids including Jack had the Hotchner glare.

“Is it okay if I call you Dad? Because I really want to because you’re marrying mommy and you do Dad things for me. You take me golfing, you make me breakfast and pack my lunches for school, you coach Jack and I’s soccer team.”

“Yes, of course it’s okay. I’d be very happy if you called me Dad, I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” 

Aaron kised Tyler’s forehead and Tyler said, “Mom, will you go swimming with us?”

“Yeah, let me talk to Dad and then we’ll get our swim suits on.”

“Love you mom, love you Dad.”

“We love you too.”

Your son ran out and you walked over to Aaron. Aaron was in disbelief, you could profile it even if you weren’t a profiler. 

“Talk to me.”

“He wants to call me dad.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s not so much about how I feel, it’s about how Joey feels. I know Joey doesn’t see me as his father, and I guess that’s okay, it hurts. It does hurt, you know. I’d put my whole life on the line for him, for all our kids and you. I know he’s only 8, I get that, but sometimes it hurts knowing that your best is not good enough.”

Your heart broke for Aaron and yourself. Joey was your son, Aaron was your soon to be husband. You know he was doing his best. Always trying his hardest to get your children to like him. Your children loved him, but what hurt you was knowing that he felt like that. You wish he’d told you sooner. All this doubt that was built in him, you know he struggled with it and him trying to be a father to your kids was making it worse. 

If only Aaron knew what the kids were okay with doing, asking him to adopt all three AND they wanted to come up with a way of surprising them, Joey letting Tyler call Aaron dad without any backlash. It was a big step for Joey. You’d say even bigger than the one he took when Grace called Aaron “dad”. 

“Honey, Joey was okay with Tyler calling you Dad, we just had a conversation talking about it. We’re okay. Joey’s okay with it. I’m sorry you feel like this, I’m trying the best I can, but Aaron come on, you’re an FBI agent, you know about trauma more than anyone, you know kids struggle in a new relationship when they had a parent that passed. You know what, I try to remember everything about that morning to what the kids had for breakfast after we left that bed but some things I can’t remember. But there’s gotta be something that’s eating Joey up. I know it.” 

In the middle of the night, you jolted awake. You were having such a realistic dream. Michael had come to you, he’d been trying to tell you something but it just wasn’t clear enough for you, yet it somehow triggered a memory for you. You now know why Joey was having such a hard time with Aaron.

Aaron had sat up with you and turned on a lamp. He didn’t exactly know what was going on. All he knew was that you jolted awake, out of his arms, at 2:38 in the morning. What the hell was going on?

“Aar, I remember that morning. I remember Michael had woken me up early. I had asked if something was wrong with the kids but nothing was wrong, he was taking Joey hiking. It’s something that they’d done since Joey was young. Joey and Michael went hiking that morning. Joey spent the last few hours of Michael’s life with him, doing what they loved. Oh my god, I’m a shitty mother. In two years, I hadn’t asked Joey about anything. He never even mentioned it.”

You were having a breakdown in the middle of the night. Like a full blown breakdown, how could you be such a shitty mother. Your son needed you and you were over here falling in love with a man. You should’ve been a better mother. What the fuck were you thinking? Planning to marry a man, putting yourself first before your children. You couldn’t do this not to Aaron and Jack. They deserved everything. Aaron deserved everything.

You immediately got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, and you began to cry harder. You heard a knock on the door but you didn’t know what had made you this upset. The fact that you had to break up with Aaron, break off the engagement, break up this family, because you’re a shitty mother?

“Hey honey, can I come in?”

You wiped your tears and Aaron came in. He looked at you and then he made his way to come sit on the floor with you. His back would hurt in the morning, but he wanted to be with you, he needed to be with you. He pulled you in between his legs and pulled you in close.

“Aaron, I-I don’t know if I could do this anymore.” 

Aaron’s body tensed at your words. What the hell just came out of your mouth. That’s all he wanted to know. Were you serious? He was ready to spend the rest of his life with you. Were you really throwing it all away because of some dream?

“No, I can’t accept that. I won’t accept that. You’re my fiance, you and I AND the kids have all come so far for this family. I understand things are tough. Father’s day is coming up, it’s the 2nd father’s day without Michael. It’s getting tough, I’m not saying it’s not hard without Haley. I know you’re struggling because the day Michael died, your whole world stopped, you’re slowly putting the pieces back together. But, Jack and I are the pieces that are helping you put it together, if you lose us, it’s going to take even longer to fix yourself. I’m sure there’s someone better out there for you because you’re you. But for Jack and I, there is no one better for us. You’re perfect for me. The kids are perfect siblings for Jack. The kids are the perfect addition to my children. We’re a family and we have to stick it through.”

Aaron wiped your tears from your cheeks and you looked at him. You truly were lucky. Of course Aaron thought there was someone better for you than him. But that wasn’t true. You were just emotional because of how hard you were on yourself and now you’re realizing that you’re a shitty mother.

“And no, Y/N, you’re not a terrible mother. It’s been hard, I understand that honey. Let me help you through it though so you’re not always crying at 3am in the morning.”

3am? How had it already been a half hour since you were in the bathroom? Aaron’s alarm goes off at 5am for work, but he’s usually up at 4:30am to go for a run before his alarm even goes off. Now you were probably ruining your day. All this self doubt is ruining you for the best.

“I’m sorry Aaron, I guess with father’s day coming up, it’s just been an internal struggle with myself because I lost Michael, you’re here and you’re a great father to Joey, Tyler, Jack, and Grace. But as a mother, I feel like I’m the worst mother ever. I’ve pushed Joey off to the side instead of listening to him.” 

“No, you are. You are listening to him.  Joey just doesn’t open up, you and I both know that. I haven’t been hiking in a while, but maybe on father’s day I can take Joey. Just him and I.” 

“That’s not much of a father’s day with you. You should be spending one on one time with Jack, that’s your son.”

“While your kids may not be my biological kids, they are my kids. Joey’s caught on to my Hotchner glare, so has Gracie. Tyler rubs his thumb and forefinger together when he gets nervous or he’s thinking. He’s picked up on things that I do. They’re just as much “my” kids even if they don’t have the same DNA as me, but that doesn’t matter to me.”

You leaned into Aaron. This was why he was so good at being a Unit Chief, he talks people off the ledge. He’s an amazing father and an even better soon to be husband. You were very lucky. 

You stood up and pulled him up. You pulled him into a kiss and then hugged him. He held you tighter and you two stood like that for a while. Just two lovers, two lovers who began this relationship as single parents, falling in love harder and harder every day. 

“Thank you for that. I really needed someone to talk me off the ledge.”

“You’re a great mother, honey. Don’t you ever forget that, and if you do, just come find me and I’ll tell you what a great mother you are.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Now, let’s get back to bed, we’ll make the kids breakfast in the morning.”

Within a few days, you were prepping the kids for father’s day. After the other night at 3am, crying in your bathroom, you realized that your fiance was the best thing to happen to you. You decided that while Aaron was at work, you were going to do father’s day crafts with the kids. You’d gotten the adoption papers and had put them in a file. 

You haven’t gotten around to asking Joey about that morning, but Aaron was. Aaron was going to suggest that Joey and him go hiking at one of Michael’s favorite places. It’ll be a good thing for Joey to remember Michael and celebrate him while also getting some one on one time with Aaron on father’s day. 

Saturday night rolled around and you were watching TV with Aaron and Joey. The others were in bed and it was just about time for Joey to head to bed. You looked over at Aaron. You knew what he was going to ask. You just didn’t want your son to be overwhelmed.

Aaron looked at your son and said, “Hey Joey, is there anything special you want to do for Father’s day tomorrow?”

“Not really, Aaron. Just stay at home and swim maybe. Did you have anything planned?”

“You know, I saw some pictures of you and your Dad when you were younger and it seemed like you two liked to go hiking. I was thinking that maybe you and I could get up early tomorrow and go hiking at one of your Dad’s favorite trails?”

Joey looked at you then looked at Aaron. “You would do that for me?”

“Yeah, of course I would. What do you say? We don’t have to, I just thought.” 

Joey moved away from you and into Aaron’s arms. He held onto Aaron and Aaron was shocked. Out of all the reactions, this is the one he least expected. He held Joey in his arms. This was as good as the time they talked about Grace calling him Dad. Maybe this was a breakthrough that Joey needed. Maybe you were a good mom. Talking to Aaron about it and Aaron taking it a step farther. Taking your son hiking on Father’s day. Aaron and Joey oculd bond more and Joey could miss his father while doing something to remember him. 

When Sunday morning rolled around, you heard Aaron getting dressed. He sat on your bedside and kissed the top of your forehead. You woke up to him. This was his first father’s day with your kids. Hopefully by the time next father’s day rolled around, he’d be celebrating his first father’s day with a child that is half yours and half his, but only time would tell.

“Happy father’s day, Aaron.” 

You kissed him again and pulled him on top of you. This is how you spent father’s day with Michael, but this father’s day was going to be different. Aaron didn’t know it yet but this was going to be a father’s day for him to remember, if he didn’t get freaked out. He moaned into the kiss and you heard a knock at your door. 

Aaron got off you and smiled. “It was fun while it lasted.” You chuckled and you sat up. Aaron made his way to the door and opened it. Joey was standing there with his backpack and he said, “Good morning, Aaron! Good morning, Mom! Happy Father's day, Aaron!” He hugged Aaron and came to sit on your bed. 

“Are you ready to go on your hike with Aaron?”

“Yeah, I’m excited! I slept so well, but look! I packed my own backpack this morning.”

Aaron sat on the edge of the bed next to Joey and Joey dumped out his bag. Candy and junk food fell out of his bag along with a sweatshirt and an extra pair of gym shoes and a small towel. 

“You are ready to go little man.” 

They grabbed their backpacks and you packed Aaron’s backpack with a little more sustainable food for him and Joey. 

“Okay, get with Aaron for a picture.” Joey put his arm around Aaron and they both smiled. 

“Alright, you boys go, have fun, enjoy your hike. When you come back, breakfast will be ready and the other 3 will be up. Then we’ll go swimming and Uncle Sonny is coming over with Amanda, Jesse and Bille.”

“Okay mom. I love you.”

“I love you too. Have fun with Aaron.” 

Aaron kissed you and you watched them leave. You decided to start cleaning around the house, make a grocery list for next week, do some laundry, and if you were lucky you’d clean the pool. Something to keep your nerves calmed before your kids were going to ask Aaron to adopt them. 

Aaron and Joey had gotten to the trail and began their hike. Aaron was excited, he had talked about it non-stop with you last night and before he had asked Joey. Maybe he was excited because it was finally something that he and Joey could bond over. Aaron always got excited when Tyler asked him to golf. 

Aaron and Joey had been hiking and made it to a spot to watch the sunrise. They stopped to have a snack and sat on a rock. 

“Hey Aaron?”

“What’s up, Joe?”

“Thanks for taking me hiking today. It means a lot. I miss my Dad all the time, and I love you. You’ve been a great Dad to me. You know, that morning, Dad took me hiking, and that was the last one on one time I had with him before he died.”

Joey had leaned into Aaron and Joey whispered, “I miss him, Aaron.”

Aaron held onto him. Aaron knew Joey needed this right now. If Joey never called Aaron “dad”, that didn’t matter to him anymore, he and Joey were always going to have this moment now. Aaron felt like in the relationship he had built with Joey, this was the first meaningful thing they had with each other. Well, the first BIG meaningful thing, Joey had opened up to Aaron, and on father’s day on top of it. 

You had gotten an update from Aaron that things had been going well. They were hiking back and would be home within the next hour. 

“Aaron, 

Happy Father's Day. Thank you for being the best father to our 4 children. Jack is so lucky to have you as a dad as well as Joey, Tyler, and Gracie. You’re a bonus dad to them and I couldn’t be any more luckier. When Michael passed, I thought I’d never find love again. I was a single mom who was worried that some guy wouldn’t love me because I had three young children, but I think my kids made you love me even more. Seeing you interact with my children, our children is my favorite thing in the world. Everyone can see how you’re such a great dad. Even if you’re not Joey, Tyler, and Gracie’s biological dad, it seems like it to the outside world. I love you Aaron Hotchner. Even though you doubt it, you’re a great dad. I see that every time you’re around our kids. When you fed Gracie for the first time, you weren’t weirded out that she was clinging on to a weird man who she’d only known for a little bit. But that was a bond that began and it’s only grown so much from there, to you taking naps with her to you coming home after a long week and dressing up in a crown and drinking tea. Thank you for being there for Tyler. Your bond with Tyler is strong. For Tyler, you go golfing with him. It started when he showed interest in the Masters, you were patient with him, hitting flight restricted golf balls in our front yard, taking him to the range, to just completing his first 18 round course in Florida. For Joey, thank you for being so patient with him. While it may sometimes seem that Joey doesn’t care about you or is mad at you, he’s not. I think he’s just mad at the world for taking Michael away. I don’t blame him. He was 6 years old when his Dad died and then less than a year later, we met you and Jack. But, don’t fear, your bond with Joey is growing strong, even Joey mentioned how much he loves you. Taking him hiking and remembering Michael is something I think Joey will remember for the rest of his life, oh and of course taking him to that fancy restaurant in Flordia where you both wore dress pants and dress shirts. And Jack, your biological son. Your baby boy. He will always be your baby boy Aaron. I know your relationship with Jack is much different than the ones you have with childrena and that’s OK. I would never ask you to change that because while it may be different, I know the amount of love for the 4 kids is all the same, and I thank you for that. 

Thank you for being the best dad to my three kids and your son. 

Maybe next father’s day you’ll have another kid running around. Half me and half you. What do you say, Hotchner? 

Love, 

Future Mrs. Hotchner

You weren’t going to lie, that was really the first heartfelt message you had written out since Michael had passed. You wrote Aaron a nice birthday card, but this one was more, you had talked about your children and maybe the fact that you hinted at making another baby. One that would be the perfect mix of you and Aaron. 

You put the card on the table at his chair and got dressed for the day. The three kids had woken up and you helped them get dressed. They got their crafts ready for Aaron and you had put a card on the table for him. You wrote the card after he had gone to bed last night. It made you tear up so you figured that he would maybe tear up. 

Aaron and Joey walked through the door and the kids all yelled, “HAPPY FATHER’S DAY!”

Aaron knelt to the ground and all three kiddos ran to him and hugged him. He kissed all of them and Jack held onto him. Aaron stood up and carried Jack and Gracie over to the table. He put them in their chairs and walked over to you. 

“Happy father’s day, Aaron.”

He kissed you and whispered, “Things went really well with Joey, I’m glad we went.”

You hugged him and the kids all sat down. 

“Dad! Dad! Open presents!”

Aaron sat down and he looked at all the crafts the kids had made for them. He opened up a gift bag that had a new tie in it from all the kids. 

“Thank you, I love each and every one of my pictures, crafts, and my new tie! I’ll be wearing it to work tomorrow.”

He had smiled and kissed each and every one of them. You grabbed your picture that the photographer had photoshopped and you brought it over. 

You set up your phone to record and you wiped your tear. 

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Well, I know as a father, you’ve had your doubts, but I know you’re doing the best you can, keeping your promise you made to Haley. I know how much you cherish the picture of Haley and Jack and you. It was one of the last family pictures you had and I wanted to do something for you and for Jack.”

Jack climbed on Aaron’s lap and you gave them another gift. Jack unwrapped it and Aaron immediately began to cry. Not a bad cry, but one that you heard when he was upset. One time on a case, he blamed himself after a case had gone badly, a little 5 year old girl was killed, Aaron had been right outside the house. 

Jack had yelled, “Daddy! It’s momma! Look!”

It was the picture of Aaron and Jack and Haley had been photoshopped into it. Aaron wiped his tears and he pulled the picture out to look at it more. You had wiped your tears and your kids all went to hug him. 

He stood up and walked over to you. He kissed you and immediately engulfed you into a big Hotchner hug. Being in his arms was completely different. 

“Thank you so much. I absolutely love it. So does Jack. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He kissed the top of your head and then you wiped his tears and your tears. 

Later on in the evening, your brother, his girlfriend and her kids were all over and everyone was having a nice night. 

Tyler said, “Hey Dad?”

“Yeah buddy?”

Joey walked over to Aaron along with Tyler. 

Joey said, “Aaron, you’ve been very important to us these past 2 years and you’ve been really good to my mom. We couldn’t be more thankful for you, especially after our Dad died.” 

Gracie climbed into his lap and you looked at your kids. Your brother had looked at you and then back at Aaron and the kids. 

Joey said, “You’re good to my sister, to my brother, and to me. I love you, dad.”

Your heart stilled. You didn’t expect Joey to say those words. He hadn’t even talked to you about it, he did it on his own. You were so proud of your son. So proud of the kid he was.

Aaron said, “Thank you for being the best kids in the world. I love you all.” He hugged Joey and Joey said, “Wait, Dad, we want to know something.”

“What’s that?”

“Dad, will you adopt us?”

Joey and Tyler held out adoption papers and Aaron blinked back tears. For a unit chief, these surprises caught him off guard. It caught you off guard. You didn’t know how they were going to ask, if they were going to go through with it, but they did and you were so proud of them.

“Yes, yes, of course I’ll adopt you three.” 

Aaron kissed Gracie and Dominick took her from his lap. He leaned in his chair and pulled your two sons in for a hug. Tyler wiggled his way out while saying “Dad, you’re squishing me.”

“Sorry bud.” 

Joey held onto Aaron and whispered, “Thanks for being the best Dad to me after my Dad died. Thank you for loving me even when I’m mad at you.”

“I love you so much Joey. Don’t you ever forget that. No matter what you could say or do to me, I’ll always love you.” 

Sitting in bed that night, Aaron made his way to you after changing. He held the card out and he said, “Thank you for being the best fiance I could ask for, the best mother to our children, for loving Jack and I. Everything that you did for me today will go down in history as the best father’s day ever.”

“I didn’t know Joey would call you Dad today.”

Aaron laid in between your legs and rested his head on his stomach. He was such a softee, always needing to be touching you, he wasn’t overly clingy, but you understood why, everything could be taken from him in a blink of an eye, and it did and he would never let it happen again. 

“So, you do want another little one running around by next father’s day?” 

“I do, do you?” 

“With you, absolutely. You’ve made 3 beautiful children already, so what the hell, let’s make a 5th. One half me, and one half you.” 

“Let’s get started then, huh?” 

You had pulled Aaron up to kiss you and he put his hand underneath your shirt. This was going to be a long night. 

“Thanks for giving me the best Father’s Day I could’ve ever asked for.” 

Next Part

[marciabrady]

The relationship Joan Crawford and her mother, Anna, shared was, by all accounts, a strained one. As a child, Joan was always made aware of the fact that Anna disliked her and preferred her older brother, Hal. Hal seemed to be mentally disturbed and would often times take it out on Joan in ways that would affect her until her death. One of Joan’s biggest fears- which was of the dark- was formed during early childhood, when Hal locked her in a dark closet and no one let her out until the end of the day. Joan later said of Hal: 

“He was chronically mean...as kids he wasn't just the type of kid that would pull wings off butterflies, he'd pull the arms and legs off my dolls. When my mother needed help in the house, did she ever ask him to do anything? Hell, no! I waited on him hand and foot, and he was one of the big reasons why I wanted to get the hell out of the whole situation. Hal was bad news, all the way around. But because he was a boy he was always favored, and it was Lucille who had to do all the dirty work...as soon as I had a few options renewed at Metro, Hal appeared. One afternoon I came home and found him sitting on my sofa, smoking a cigarette, half-bombed, telling me that since I'd become a movie star he was going to live with me. Like an idiot, I let him stay. Hal was a louse, an out-and-out bastard. He could charm the skin off a snake, but nothing, not his jobs, not the men and women in his life, lasted long. Liquor, then drugs, and always his distorted ego, took over. I supported that son-of-a-bitch until the day he died. That man--or did he ever become a man--was a monster. God, I hated him.”

While Joan’s mother was aware of Hal’s behavior, she did little to stop him and, many times, encouraged him. It wasn’t until Joan was around the age of 11 that Anna interjected- and that was to kick Joan out of the house. Joan had been physically violated by her stepfather, but instead of breaking up with him, Anna blamed it on her underaged daughter ‘leading him on’ and sent Joan off to a boarding school where she had to work as a maid for her stay. Despite their past, when Joan began working in Hollywood, Anna moved in with her and Joan continued to support both her and her brother, Hal, for the rest of their lives. 

“I don't think she really loved me, but when you consider the life she led, what the hell. She married too young and too often. She was a little Swedish girl who wasn't too bright. All the way along, the wrong men appealed to her, and she worked her ass off, more often supporting them than they supported her. She was old and tired by the time she was 49, and when she came out here [Hollywood] at least a few of the fires had been put out, and she could be Hal's servant and my friend. She was a good woman, even though she ignored me when I was a kid, and she found life a lot easier during her last years... We weren't really close--we never had been."

This was confirmed by Christina Crawford in articles and interviews throughout the ‘60′s, as well as admitting that Joan had supported Christina and helped her find work as an actress for the better part of three decades. However, once Christina’s book “Mommie Dearest” came out, she distorted history and said Joan never supported her and would often times take work from her. She claimed Joan didn’t support her brother, Hal, or mother, Anna, either because she was ashamed of them. For more information on Christina’s false accusations, including how she perjured herself in court, visit this page.

[hrtiu]

i couldn’t find anything written for these two online so i thought i’d give it a shot! this is katy x shang-chi. what should their ship name be? i vote for shaunty. continue if you love friends-to-lovers 🥰

For Katy, the weirdest part about coming home after nearly dying and saving the world from a soul-sucking monster was realizing that she needed to find a new job.

“You could always apply to be an archery instructor at that place in Golden Gate Park,” Shaun said, looking over her shoulder at her laptop.

“Yeah, I don’t think my three days of experience will look very good on the resume,” Katy said, balancing the laptop on her thighs as she sat cross-legged on his bed.

“You could always put, ‘fired the shot that saved the universe,’” Shaun said. He leaned just a little too far into Katy’s space for comfort. “What should matter are results, right?”

“Ha ha,” Katy said, her throat suddenly dry. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d already inquired with the place and they weren’t hiring.

It had been like this since they’d gotten back from Ta Lo. Just… a little off. How was she supposed to act around her friend after going through an experience like this? How was she supposed to act after discovering a whole new side to someone she’d thought she knew so well? How was she supposed to breathe around Shaun now that she knew what he looked like with his shirt off?

Katy caught Shaun’s eye in the mirror of her laptop screen and swallowed, slamming the laptop shut before she or it combusted. It was all getting to be a bit much.

“Is everything alright?” Shaun asked from somewhere behind her.

Katy nodded, Shaun’s garage studio suddenly stifling despite the constant San Francisco temperature of 60 degrees outside. “Yeah, I’m just… I think I’ll maybe look again tomorrow.”

Shaun moved around the back of his bed and sat next to Katy, his thigh touching her knee. “Come on, Katy. What’s up? It couldn’t possibly be any weirder than the stuff I’ve told you recently.”

“Plenty of room at the Hotel California…” Katy started humming, her hand tapping against her leg in time to the music.

Shaun grabbed her hand and tugged, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Come on, you know that only works on idiots.”

“Well then it should have worked on you.”

Shaun frowned, then rested his other hand on top of the one he was already holding, his thumb sliding soothingly back and forth across her skin. “Seriously, Katy. Are you alright?”

Katy bit her lip and looked down at their connected hands. “It’s this!” she burst out, jerking her chin towards their hands. “Since when did we do this?”

Shaun let go of her hand and scooted away immediately, leaving a good foot of distance between them on the bed. Hurt lit his eyes. “Maybe since we almost died together?” he said defensively. “But you could have just told me you were uncomfortable. I won’t do it again.”

“No, wait. Shaun!” Katy fumbled over her words. “It’s not uncomfortable, really. Or well, it is, but it’s not a bad kind of uncomfortable. It’s just weird because I’ve never felt awkward around you before. But now I do and I don’t know what to do about it or what’s changed or even if you’ve noticed it or not.”

“You feel awkward around me?”

“Yeah! And you seem totally fine which is… great for me,” Katy said, her neck heating. This sucked. She hoped she’d be able to get over this soon so she could go back to singing karaoke late into the night without worrying if she was going to make a pass at him when she was drunk.

“I’m fine because it’s you!” he said. “I’ve known you for forever! What am I doing that’s making you uncomfortable, because I can stop.”

Katy cast a sidelong glance at him, her eyes tracing up the exquisitely-defined muscles of his forearms. I wonder if I could get him to take his shirt off again, she thought longingly. “You could eat a few Ho Hos with a side of pizza, I guess.”

His forehead crinkled in confusion, which drew attention to his eyes, which then led her down to his lips. Ok, maybe there was no leading going on, and Katy had just decided to look there herself.

“Look, normally I’m pretty good at interpreting Katy,” Shaun said, “But I think I might need a little help today.”

I could help you out of your clothes. Woah. That thought had better not come out of her mouth.

Katy jumped to her feet and turned from Shaun, her eyes struggling to find something else to focus on—anything else. “It’s fine, alright. I’m just being weird because I realized you’re hot and now it’s hard to stop thinking about it.”

“Woah! I’m hot?”

“Shut up, you know you are.” Katy moved over to the garage door and turned back to him, confident she could face him with some distance between them.

“No, I don’t! You used to call me shrimp cracker back in high school!”

“Yeah, well, all those shrimp decided to start swimming in the formation of an eight-pack on your torso, so…”

Shaun walked over to her, a grin spreading across his face. “All those times you made fun of me in gym class, and look at you now.”

He was getting too close, and Katy backed along the garage door away from him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

“Hey, I think I deserve to bask a little in your admiration,” Shaun said, still advancing on her with a smirk she knew was just teasing.

“Shut up, Shaun,” she said, taking one more step behind her.

Her foot caught on the backpack she’d tossed carelessly by the door, and just like that she was going down. Then Shaun grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, just barely managing to keep her from dropping like a bag of rice.

One of his hands gripped her wrist while the other wrapped around her waist, holding her flush against him. Her nose was only an inch or two from his, and she could see her own reflection in his eyes. She stopped breathing.

Shaun’s eyes widened, and his fingers twitched nervously at her waist. “Oh,” he said, voice quiet and surprised. “Yeah, this is weird.”

Katy’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was only at that moment that she realized how far gone she already was. Well, that was that.

She dropped her eyes, but there was nowhere to look but him, so she fixed her gaze on the zipper of the coat he always wore.  There was a stain right around the hem. He should probably get a new coat now that he was important and all.

The hand holding her wrist dropped, and suddenly his warm palm was pressed against her cheek, lifting her head up. She looked back into his eyes and found a familiar warmth there. It was unquestioning friendship and loyalty. It was love.

“It’s a good thing I like weird,” he said. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Katy wrapped her arms around him, pulling him harder against her and finally—finally—getting to feel those muscles. When she’d privately fantasized about this moment over the past few days, she’d always worried it might feel strange or wrong—like kissing her brother. But it turned out she’d worried for nothing. Shaun’s hands on her hips felt right, and his lips moved against her mouth in a way that made her knees week. No, this was definitely not like kissing her hot, super hero brother.

After a few minutes Shaun pulled away, his expression dazed but smiling. “Ok, I take it back,” he said. “Not weird at all.”

Katy smirked up at him. “I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.” Her phone chimed her text alert and she jumped, nearly forgetting it was in her back pocket. “Oh, damn, I forgot I told mom I’d be home to help her restock.”

“I can come with,” Shaun said, his hand moving experimentally up and down her waist.

“Sure.” A thought occurred to Katy and she stopped typing mid-text to her mom. She looked up at Shaun, her eyes wide. “Shaun. Waipo is going to be so psyched.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17 

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air. 

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through. 

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window. 

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad. 

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza. 

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed. 

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist. 

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body. 

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression. 

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back. 

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose —  temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

[missymurphy1985]

The Writer (Tommy Shelby X Fem.Reader) - Part One

Warning - SMUT (eventually)

Request? Yes

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @heidimoreton

You looked in the mirror, straightening out your dress and taking a deep breath. Your boss David, who also happened to be your older brother, had arranged a meeting with you in the offices of the Birmingham Herald at 6pm sharp.

On the way there, you couldn't help but marvel at how you'd ended up here. Your husband had died two years after returning from war having suffered severe injuries, and after you'd taken on his job at the Herald while he was away fighting, falling ill on his return and subsequently dying, your brother, the editor, had kept you on so you weren't destitute. It was against all the principles of the time, a woman working, but your brother never once allowed the other men at the newspaper to talk down to you. You were the best storyteller and strongest journalist they had on the books and he would always have your back. The other men had grown to look at you as a sister almost - you were blessed to be in the position you were in.

Arriving at the Herald, you made your way to David's office.

"Y/n, I'm sorry to call you in this evening..." He smiled, embracing you and offering you a whiskey which you gladly accepted.

"I never have evening plans David, you know that. What was so important it couldn't wait til morning?"

"We've had an incredible offer and I want you to be the one to report it. The story is made for you."

"What is it?"

"Thomas Shelby has agreed to an article on his life to date!"

"Thomas Shelby? As in the Peaky Blinders?! Not a fucking chance David..." You recoiled in horror. You knew the man's history very well, you'd gone to school with his younger brother John and the stories of the Peaky Blinders were infamous. You hated the man - the thought of interviewing him mad your stomach turn.

"This story could launch your career into the big time Y/n! Think about it! The most secretive, elusive man in the country wants to tell his story to you!"

"To the Herald."

"No, y/n, to YOU. He asked for you. By name."

"How the hell does he know my name?" You'd written your articles under a male pen name so as not to distract readers from the content. Not all men were as modern as your brother and coworkers.

"No idea, but he specifically asked for you."

You mind turned - no one knew you worked at the Herald. You'd kept yourself to yourself, even moving out of Small Heath after your husband passed away. You'd lost touch with John just before he went off to war. There was no connection to the Shelby family at all.

"The reason I dragged you in at 6pm is because he wants to make a start today. This evening actually, there's a car picking you up in 30 minutes."

"David!! I can't do this interview for goodness sake, I'm not even close to prepared!"

"You have 30 minutes! Pull your finger out!" He laughed.

You'd crammed as much as possible in that 30 minutes as you could - your mind was whirring at 70miles per hour when the silver Bentley pulled up outside. Glaring at David, who simply smirked in response, you got in the car as the driver greeted you.

"Arrow House ma'am, won't take long to get there," the driver smiled as you asked him where he was taking you. Arrow House? His home? Why would the most secretive man in Birmingham want to meet you in his sanctuary?

************************************************************

Pulling up outside the huge mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed. The gardens were immaculate.

A middle aged lady greeted you at the front door and offered to take your coat. You smiled and handed it over, as she led you through to the dining room. You took the seat she offered.

"Would you like some tea Ms. Y/L/N?" You nodded, and she signalled one of the younger maids to action.

"Mr Shelby will be with you in a moment, please make yourself comfortable," the lady smiled warmly and headed out the door with your coat. You looked around the room. A large painting on one wall of the man himself with a large horse. There was a smaller picture on a cabinet just underneath that caught your eye. A beautiful blond woman, with piercing eyes and a loving smile, holding a small boy in her arms. You didn't know Thomas was married, let alone had a son. The house didn't seem to have much of a feminine feel to it though, it was borderline drab in its decor.

"My wife, Grace. And my son Charles." A voice behind you startled you, and you turned to see Thomas himself walking towards you, a glass of whiskey in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

"She's beautiful, Mr Shelby. And your son is adorable," you smiled, but he didn't return it.

"She certainly was." Your eyes grew wide as the realisation of what he'd said sunk in.

"Oh I'm sorry -"

"No need. It was a long time ago. Shall we get this over with Ms Y/L/N?" You nodded and he led you out of the dining room into a smaller one - clearly an office. The large oak desk sprawled out in front of the bay window. You took your seat opposite his at the desk and pulled out your pen and pad as he poured himself another whiskey. You shook your head when he offered you one, drinking the tea the young maid have brought in to you instead.

Your questions for him were simple at first. You asked about his childhood in Small Heath. His schooling. His childhood friends. Pretty much all one word answers, driving you insane, until you asked about his brothers.

"You knew John, didn't you?" He asked.

"Yes. Same year at school."

"Sadly, he's no longer with us. Shot by the Italians last year." You heart dropped - you heard through the grapevine that John had children and a wife and the news hit you like a freight train. You took a breath and a moment to compose yourself.

"I'm so sorry Mr Shelby..."

"I'm sorry too, I didn't realise you were so close?"

"We were close before the war. Lost touch after that."

"I don't remember seeing you with him?"

"My father wouldn't let me see him, so we had to be careful.."

"You and John were..."

"No no.. god no! Just friends Mr Shelby." He went quiet again, and sipped his whiskey.

Back to the questions. Mundane as they were, you needed them to get the full story. He wasn't forthcoming with the details. You had to really press him, but he spent most of his time drinking his whiskey and looking out of the window at the dark clouds rolling in outside.

"Listen, Mr Shelby, you clearly don't want this any more than I do so please, if you don't mind, I'd like to end the interview here." Your voice was stern, patience had officially gone out of the window he was so fixated with.

"Jack said you were feisty." You froze at mention of your late husband's name.

"How did you know Jack?"

"We served together in France. Good man."

"Is that how you knew my name?" He didn't answer, just nodded, again watching the weather changing quickly outside.

"Storm looks bad."

"If I leave now I should be fine." The first rumble of thunder made you jump, Tommy noticed your fear instantly.

"Scared of storms?"

"They used to scare Jack.." a second rumble had you grasping onto the chair.

"Stay until it passes." Was that a request or an order.. you weren't sure but he took your hand gently and led you into the hallway away from the window, into the main dining room again.

"Frances, have the curtains closed please." He spoke to the older woman who greeted you at the door and she dutifully obliged, closing the curtains in the large windows.

Tommy sat you at the table and gave you his glass of whiskey, your shaky hands accepting it this time. Every thunderstorm brought flashbacks of Jack's terror filled eyes.. his anguished cries of pain.. and ultimately the sound of the gun he placed at his temple before he took his own life. You took a sip of the warm liquid as Tommy sat beside you, a fresh glass of his own in his hand.

"Jack saved my life."

"He did?"

"Yes. We were underground digging.. we could hear the Germans on the other side of the dirt digging towards us... They broke through first and grabbed me. Jack beat them to death with his hammer to get them off me." Tommy's memory made you smile, and you laughed gently.

"He was always brave.. and strong. Put everyone else first. He never told me.."

"He never wanted praise, it was just part of his job. In return.. I said if anything happened to him I would make sure you were looked after."

"What?"

"The men at your office? They're under my watch. They respect you because you're a damn good writer, but they also know if they gave you any shit..." He raised his eyebrow and you couldn't help but smile. Even after his death, he was making sure you were okay. That was the Jack you wanted to remember.

"In that case Mr Shelby, I thank you."

"Call me Tommy eh? Here's to the bravest man in France." He clinked his glass with yours and you felt him almost begin to relax.

"I noticed a piano in the hall - do you play?"

"I did as a boy. My mother was a keen player, I used to watch her all the time. Gave it up after she died."

"I played for Jack all the time. It soothed him when he couldn't sleep." He smiled, a warm genuine smile that you couldn't help but return.

You'd spent the evening drinking whiskey and talking with Tommy, the whiskey hitting you much quicker than it did him, and you could feel your eyelids growing heavier.

"I have a spare room upstairs y/n, maybe stay tonight, I'll have my driver take you home in the morning." He stood before you had chance to argue and you followed him up the stairs.

He led you into a beautiful bedroom, the decor in here much more appealing than downstairs and the large oak double bed even more so.

"I don't want to impose Thomas..."

"That storm isn't letting up any time soon, and you're exhausted. You're welcome to stay. There's fresh clothes in the wardrobe. My wife was the same build as you, they should fit. I'll have my driver take you home at 7am. Goodnight Y/n..." His blue eyes lingered on yours a moment and you felt a rush of something you hadn't felt in a long time... Scaring you. Quickly looking away, you bid him goodnight.