#and i moved few things last month 2 my phone or on my email so its ok...

[entitybear]

laptop has died badly. rip ole reliable u crashed at the worst moment (while restarting) & killed my hard drive forevar ❤️

[atlabeth]

family line

pt 2

pairing: spencer reid x gideon!reader

a/n: pardon the end where i just go into endless conversation for no reason but i cannot control myself. anyways thank you sosososo much for all the love on the last part and gideon!reader as a whole it makes me so happy!! enjoy some dad-daughter-spence car convos(arguing) and some elle time

wc: 3.8k

warning(s): the usual! r and gideon argue, gideon is not a good dad(but theres some reconciliation), angst, hurt/comfort, but some fluff between r and gideon & spence. more of a set-up chapter

The drive over to the safe house is a long one, and unfortunately, not a quiet one. 

Spencer takes the back seat, leaving shotgun for you with your dad. He spends the entirety of the drive briefing you on what living in a safe house will entail, all the things you can and can’t do. 

You can’t use your phone because it could be tracked. You can’t leave the place without Spencer because you are, in fact, being stalked. You’re not to reveal anything about your location to anyone—you’re basically shut off from the world until the unsub is behind bars. 

And once he’s done briefing you, he basically starts interrogating you. 

“Have you been contacted like this before in any way?” 

You huff a laugh. “What, with creepy pictures of myself? No.” 

“Anything unsettling,” he clarifies. “A text message, a call, an email— anything that rubbed you the wrong way that you might’ve just passed off as a joke or spam.” 

“No,” you repeat. 

“You’re sure?” 

“How many times do I have to say no?” You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your dad. “Go through it if you want. You won’t find anything.” 

He pauses, then he nods. “Reid.” 

You shake your head with a slight laugh, then turn it over as Spencer extends a hand. He flips it open and starts to go through it, and you just cross your arms and stare out the windshield. 

“We should really hand this over to Garcia,” he says. “She’ll be able to do a lot more than I can. I don’t really—”

“Like technology, I know,” your dad finished. “We will. Just trying to get all the leads we can upfront.” 

You sigh, but you keep quiet. You guess you can’t really consider it an invasion of privacy when there’s a stalker after you. 

“We typically talk to stalking victims for a while to figure out their lifestyle and possible suspects, as well as the type of stalker we’re dealing with,” Spencer says. “We don’t exactly have the time for that here.” 

“This unsub has already been watching you for a month, maybe more,” your dad says. “He’s made his first move by reaching out to me—that means he wants us to know about him, wants you to know about him.” He glances over at you. “He wants to scare you. You’re not going to give him that satisfaction.” 

“You’re jetting me off to a safehouse before you’ve even gotten the chance to look into any leads,” you say. “It looks like we’re pretty scared, Dad.” 

“It’s preparation,” he says. “The unsub has made his first move—I’m not going to wait around for him to make another and compromise your safety.” 

“This could also be a lot more dangerous than we think,” Spencer says. You still hear him clicking through your messages, and you’re beginning to regret your decision to turn it over to him. “Our unsub could be someone after Gideon using you as collateral.” 

Your heart stops for a split second and your attention snaps to your father. “What?”

“…It is a likely option,” he says. “Very few people know you as my daughter. Someone who wants to hurt me could try to use you to do it.”

“So I was right,” you say. “This is only happening because I’m your daughter.”

“Do you want me to say yes?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes— I want you to admit that I’ve missed out on all the positives of you being my dad and gotten stuck with all the negatives!”

“This is not the time,” he says. 

“How is it not the time?” you ask with a laugh. “You’ve said it yourself several times— my life is in danger. There’s someone out there that might kill me to get back at you. What is a better time than this to talk about how shitty of a dad you’ve been?”

“A better time would be when we aren’t this high strung,” he says evenly. “Neither of us are thinking as properly as we should be. We don’t want to say anything we’ll regret.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll regret any of this,” you say. “After all, I could be dead soon, right? I should get all those regrets out of the way.”

“Please stop arguing,” Spencer interrupts hastily. “This— this is very uncomfortable.”

You scoff. The flames burn just as bright, but for some reason, you decide to hold them back a bit. 

“I’m sure it’s real hard for you, boy genius.”

The silence lingers. You can tell he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. Your dad, to his credit, doesn’t stoke the fire.

It looks like you’re all capable of restraint today. 

“I— I went through all her messages,” Spencer continues. It irks you that he talks like you’re not here. “There’s nothing suspicious there, at least.”

“Good,” your dad says. “I’ll hand it over to Garcia after I drop you both off.”

“We’re not gonna have a car?” you ask.

“You’ll have this one,” he says. “That’s why Agent Greenaway is following us.”

“Elle’s coming?” Spencer asks, and you see him perk up. You belatedly wonder what that deal is. 

“Just so she can drive me back to the office,” your dad says. “She offered.”

“What’s everyone else doing?” 

“Garcia is digging through some of your personal records for the team,” he says, glancing at you. “JJ is in contact with the local police stations so they’re ready once we have a profile. Morgan and Hotch should be looking through every case I’ve closed to get a running list of suspects.”

“Great,” you say as you lean back in your seat. “Nothing like getting my whole life aired out and put under a microscope.”

“It already is,” Spencer says. “You’ve got a stalker.”

“Thanks, Spencer,” you mutter. “I forgot.” 

-

The rest of the drive goes by with ease—at least, relative to how difficult you’ve made everything else. 

You’re already sick of Spencer Reid by the time you get out of the car. You don’t know how you’re going to survive such close quarters under these kinds of circumstances. 

Another car parks next to you as the three of you get out, and your eyes are drawn to the woman that steps out. 

“Easy drive?” your dad asks. 

“I was right behind you,” Agent Greenaway says. “You drive like an old man.” 

Your dad just barely smiles. “Stay with her, Elle. Reid and I are going to check the perimeter.” 

“You can’t be serious,” you cut in. 

“I already told you I’m not taking chances with this,” he says, and he takes his gun out. “This won’t take long.” 

Spencer takes his out as well—he carries it with both hands, like it’s actually weighing him down, and it’s a bit ridiculous—and they split to cover both sides of the house and the surrounding area. You sigh and shake your head as you cross your arms. 

“He’s certainly spirited,” Agent Greenaway says. 

You huff a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.” 

“I’m Elle, by the way,” she says. “I know we haven’t been formally introduced.” 

You nod your acknowledgment and say your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

She turns to fully face you. “Do you mind if I say a few things?” 

“If it’s about my dad—”

“It’s not,” she interrupts with a wry smile, “I promise.” 

You shrug. “Then sure.” 

“First, I just want to ask if you’re doing alright,” she says. “You’ve gotten a lot dropped on you all at once.”

“I’m as good as I can be,” you say. 

Elle nods, and her eyes soften. “I’m not gonna tell you to take it easy on Gideon. He’s an incredible agent, but that makes it hard to be a good dad.”

You don’t say anything, and she continues. 

“My dad was on the force too. I resented him for a lot of my childhood because he was gone so often, but… then he was killed in the line of duty.”

You frown. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Elle nods in thanks. “I’m not trying to get sympathy. I’m just saying I know what it’s like.”

You shift your balance and sigh, glancing away momentarily. “Everyone here sees him as a hero, and— and he is. He started this whole thing and you all save lives every day, but it feels like he’s missed my entire life because of it.” You huff a bitter laugh. “I think you all know him better than I do.”

“I think you’re probably right,” she admits. “You deserve to be angry. And honestly, I think you deserve to hate him some for it.” 

You huff a slight laugh. “You’re the one person who hasn’t tried to make me feel bad for it.”

She shrugs. “You’re in an awful situation and it might be because of him. You don’t have to have endless grace.”

“Any chance I can get you to stay in here with me instead of Spencer?” you ask.

She smiles. “I don’t think Gideon wants to stick the two of us in a house together. But I am gonna make sure we catch this guy.”

“These kinds of assholes go after vulnerable women because it gives them the attention they crave,” she continues. “They worm themselves into their lives and disrupt it all and it makes them feel powerful—you have to play to their whims.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of experience with this,” you murmur.

“I have a lot of experience putting away sick men,” Elle says. 

“Do you have any advice, then?” you ask weakly. 

“I’ve only been around you for a few hours, but I already know you’re better and stronger than whatever bastard is after you,” she says. “He wants to control your life. Don’t let him.” 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I’m… really glad you’re on my side.”

She smiles again. “Just doing my job.”

Your eyes latch onto your dad as he and Spencer come back around the front, and they both tuck their guns back into their holsters. 

“It’s all clear,” your dad says. 

“And I’m not dead,” you say. “Looks like we’re all doing good.”

He chooses to ignore you, instead looking at Elle. “Did you go over anything with her?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Just gave some advice.”

“Great,” Spencer says. “Just what I need.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Reid,” Elle says. “You’ll be fine.” 

You don’t miss the look he gives her, and your dad clears his throat. “Can you take her inside and check everything? Reid and I need to talk.” 

He frowns. “We do?” 

“Sure,” she nods. 

You stare at your dad this time, and he doesn’t entertain your annoyance with some of his own. “We’ll be in soon.” 

“Sure,” you repeat. 

You follow Elle in—you don’t feel like getting a lecture on safety just yet—and when you pass a glance over your shoulder, you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was watching you. 

His eyes dart away just as quickly, and you huff the slightest laugh. You don’t know if he’s scared of you or just tired of you already, but whichever one, you don’t really care. If you have to be stuck in this house with him, he has to be stuck in there with you too.

Elle shows you around the place, and it’s nothing special—a one story house with two bedrooms and a noticeable lack of windows, furnished plainly with a couch and a few chairs, a small kitchen table, a television. You’re honestly surprised at how nice it all is. 

But as she takes you on the impromptu tour, you can’t stop thinking about her words. You can’t stop thinking about all of it, honestly. 

A month ago, you were driving home in silence after your dad forgot about the plans you made. A week ago, you were out for drinks with friends. 

Today, you’re hunkering down in a safe house because there’s a stalker after you, and you have to do it with your dad’s stand-in kid. 

That’s what gets you, you think. That you know more about Spencer Reid than anyone at his job knows about you—that your dad ignores you in favor of his work, and instead of trying to fit you into his life, he finds an FBI replacement.

Your jaw clenches. It takes a few seconds for you to realize you’ve completely tuned out Elle, only really coming out of it when she says your name.

“Sorry,” you say. “I was distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you,” she says wryly. 

You’re about to respond when Spencer walks in with your dad. His face is slightly flushed and, as opposed to all the other times, he won’t make eye contact with you. You can only imagine what your dad decided to talk to him about. 

“You showed her around?” your dad asks. 

Elle nods. “The basics. She and Reid can figure out the rest.” 

“Thank you,” he says. He looks at Spencer, who has his hands stuffed in his pockets and is very intently focused on the wall behind you. “Help Elle get the rest of the things out of her car.”

He frowns. “Elle doesn’t need my help.”

“Come on, Reid,” she says as she starts to walk. 

He blinks and nods. “Oh. Uh— yeah.” 

You feel his eyes on you as he goes, but you don’t meet them. You just stare at your father.

“Is it my turn for a lecture?”

His eyes soften as he says your name. “This isn’t how I want things to be between us.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it takes a decade or two of neglect to get here.”

“You’re right,” he says. “You wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for me. But I’m going to get you out of it.”

“I hope so,” you say. “Because I don’t really know how Doctor Reid is going to help.”

“Don’t take it out on Reid,” your dad says. “Hate me all you want, but leave him out of it.”

“You’re the one that pulled him into it,” you retort. “He’s more your kid than I am.”

“And I regret it,” he says. Your eyes widen a bit, and it actually gets you to shut up. “I regret that it took something like this for me to be a part of your life again. But I don’t want our last interaction before you’re sequestered for the indefinite future to be a fight.”

“That’s all I’m good at when it comes to you,” you mumble. The wind has been taken out of your sails considerably. 

“And I want to change that,” he says. “But first, we have to get through this. And we’re going to get through it together, sweetheart.” 

The term of affection feels strange coming from him. Ever since your teenage years, he’s felt less like your dad and more like some estranged cousin. You hate it. You hate how unfamiliar everything feels with him. Jason Gideon has been a profiler longer than he’s been a dad and it shows in your every interaction with him. 

But still, your heart aches. You bite the inside of your cheek.

“You promise?” you ask. You feel like a kid again. 

“I promise,” he says. 

Then your dad pulls you into a hug, and for a moment, you freeze. You can’t remember the last time he hugged you. 

Despite the anger inside of you, the bitterness built in your bones, you can’t help it—you hug him back. You practically melt into his arms as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stop the sudden threat of tears. 

Because deep down beneath it all, you’re scared. You’re fucking terrified, actually, and right now you’re just a girl who wants comfort from her dad. 

“I love you,” he says. 

“…I love you too,” you mumble.

Neither of you pull away for a good thirty seconds. When you do, you turn around to wipe your eyes, not wanting him to see. You hear the door open and start, but it’s just Spencer and Elle with some bags and boxes. 

“Elle’s got some groceries,” your dad says, clearing his throat. “We’ll deliver more if necessary, but you’ve got the basics for a couple weeks, at least.” 

“And a whole lot of books and movies,” Spencer says, hefting the box in his hands. “Did you know that there have been approximately 122 million unique titles published since the invention of Gutenberg’s printing press in 1440?” 

“That’s less specific than usual,” Elle says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?” 

He frowns. “I couldn’t find statistics on the exact number.” 

“Why were you even looking at those statistics?” 

“I get bored sometimes.” 

Elle just laughs as they continue into the living room. You feel your dad’s eyes on you, and you sigh. 

“I’ll take it easy on him,” you say. “Mostly. Maybe.” 

And he actually smiles. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say offhandedly, but you find the slightest smile creeping on your lips as well. You kind of hate it. 

Everything else goes by relatively quickly now that you’re not arguing every single thing—you have to fight your instincts not to, but you manage—and eventually, after another lingering hug and some promises to be safe (and one from Spencer to your dad to keep you safe)—you’re alone in the house with him. 

“So,” you say as you settle on the couch, “this is what the indefinite future is going to be like.” 

“If it makes you feel better, last time we dealt with a stalker we caught them in a few days,” Spencer says. “She watched her for a good while, though.” 

“It doesn’t make me feel better,” you say. “Thanks.” 

“...Sorry.” 

You shrug your indifference and Spencer walks past you, focusing in on some of the paintings hanging on the wall. You’re sure he knows the artist, title, and meaning behind every single one, so you speak up before he can start.  

“What did you and Elle talk about?” 

“How this place doesn’t have a pool,” he says.  

You frown. “What?” 

“Nothing,” he says quickly. “What’d you and Gideon talk about?”

“We fought then made up,” you say. “It was… weird.” 

Spencer looks at you. “How?” 

You shrug again as you cross your arms. “You’ve seen how we are. We don’t exactly get along.” 

“Has he really been that bad of a dad?”

“It’s none of your business,” you say. “But… yes. He’s barely been a dad at all.” 

Spencer shakes his head. “I don’t get that. He’s so different in the field.” 

“That’s why he’s barely been a dad—because he’s so busy here.” You tilt your head. “Don’t you have some facts or whatever on the percentage of fathers that are workaholics?” 

“Well, 89% of dads work full time,” Spencer says. “And fathers typically work around 47 hours a week. But I don’t have anything on workaholics specifically.” 

“Great.” You stand up and walk over to the box of DVDs Spencer set down on the table, and you start rifling through them. “So, what’d my dad tell you about me?” 

Spencer blinks. “What do you mean?” 

“When I came in here with Elle and he kept you out there,” you say. “Did he give you the run-down? Warn you on how difficult I am to be around? Tell you that I hate you?” 

His Adam’s apple bobs. “Uh— no. He just… talked to me. Gave the rundown on everything.”

You hum. “You can tell the truth.” 

“I— I am,” he says. He’s clearly not. “He didn’t say anything bad about you. Promise.” 

“Whatever you say.” You land on a DVD and glance over at him. “How do you feel about Groundhog Day?” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t like Bill Murray.” 

You frown. “That’s ridiculous. How can you not like Ghostbusters?” 

“I love Ghostbusters.” 

“How can you like Ghostbusters but not Bill Murray?” 

“Because I like the concept more than I like him,” he says. “I love Halloween.” 

You shake your head and move on. “Who put these together?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Gideon? Or maybe some random BAU office worker.” 

“It’s an interesting compilation.” You look up at him again. “How about Dirty Dancing?” 

“No.” 

“No reasoning?”

“I don’t feel like dealing with a musical right now,” he says. 

“So you choose to deprive me of Patrick Swayze,” you tut. You grab one movie out of the back and hold it up. “If I put on Goodfellas, will you interrupt every five seconds with facts?”

“...I can push it back to every thirty seconds,” he says. 

“Five minutes,” you say. 

“One minute.” 

“Two.” 

“One forty-five?” 

“Two—take it or leave it.” 

“Technically I have all the power here,” Spencer says. “I can talk nonstop about anything. Putting down a movie narrows that down.” 

“...One fifty.” 

He nods, and you huff a disbelieving laugh as you put the DVD in the player. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re ridiculous?” 

“A lot,” he says as he sits down on the couch. “I usually get insufferable or weird or annoying, though. So ridiculous isn’t too bad.” 

“Well, you’re certainly something.” 

“That’s also not too bad,” he says. “I could even take it as a compliment.”

You sigh and pick up the remote before you sit back down. You look up at the clock on the wall and bite back a curse. 

“It’s only been ten minutes,” you mutter. 

“Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds, actually,” Spencer says. “Did you know that Scorsese actually cast real mobsters as extras? The cast members were told ahead of time so they could show the necessary respect to them while they were on set. There’s a whole mafia hierarchy, and only full-blooded Italians—”

“I haven’t even gotten to the start screen,” you interrupt in disbelief. 

Spencer shrugs. “You said every minute and fifty seconds. Not how long I could go on for.” 

You let out another sigh as he continues on. You bet Spencer could probably recite the whole movie from memory if you asked, but you honestly don’t know if you could take that. 

There’s one plus, at least. When you’ve got a human encyclopedia next to you that can spout off whatever information he wants any time he wants, you think you’re gonna have a hard time thinking too much about your stalker. 

You look over at Spencer when you finally make it to the opening scene, still talking but now about the different crime families in the United States. His eyebrows are surprisingly animated when he talks, going up and down depending on his inflection, and you find yourself thinking that it’s charming. 

It’s annoying how pretty he is, and it’s annoying how annoying he is. 

You look away. 

This is going to be a very long lockdown.

[beefrobeefcal]

The Eyes Have It feat. Frankie Morales, Ezra & f!reader

Summary: After everything blows up with Frankie, you're trying to move on. Part 2 of There are Other Fish in the Sea

Pairing: Frankie, Ezra & Mouse | Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) | Word Count: 2,819

Content Warnings: broken relationship, hurt, therapy talk, moving on, ending of a relationship, feelings of inadequacy, panic attack, break ups are just the worst

Author's Notes: And Mouse is on a healing journey again. Thanks for coming along.

Thank you to @strang3lov3 for brainstorming this with me, and to @noxturnalpascal, @bitchesuntitled, @mothandpidgeon and @neverwheremoonchildfor their eyes and love.

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

You found yourself stopping by the bistro every Wednesday evening to see Ezra; your conversations were cordial and friendly as he expertly crafted and served you a cocktail or a coffee. A few weeks of this went by, and your routine was becoming a habit; you found yourself looking forward to your mid-week evening walk down to the bistro, and it was not lost on Benny.

“It’s Wednesday.”, Benny mused, bringing his morning cup of coffee to his mouth and taking a sip.

You hummed in response, scrolling through your phone while seated at the kitchen table, and didn’t look up.

“You gonna be home when I’m done with work?”

You could hear the smirk in his voice, and you looked up at him, causing Benny to huff a laugh into his cup.

“Guess that’s a ‘no’, Bagels.”, he said with a smile, looking down at the feline looping around his ankles. 

Bagels made a “brrrah!” in noncommittal agreement in return and you couldn’t help the grin that pushed onto your face. Benny turned his smile towards you again, and you felt your face get warm.

“Mouse… don’t be like that. He’s hot!”

“Benny!”

“Come off it, honey!”, he laughed, coming up behind you and shaking your shoulders. “You need to get some! Because when you get some, I can end my solidarity dry spell.”

You burst out laughing. “Jesus!”

****

You struggled after lunch trying to stay focused on your work, willing the hours to pass faster. Finally deciding to take the L and end the day there, you went to the kitchen to find an afternoon snack. You bit into an apple as you leaned against the counter and opened Instagram, your thumb hovering over the search button. 

Despite what your therapist had said in your last session, you typed in Frankie’s handle and the first image you saw when his profile popped up was him looking happy and healthy.

Granted, it had been almost eight months since you’d broken up and he had every right to be happy. You heard from Benny - who heard from Santi - that Frankie had gotten sober and was trying to pull himself back together. And he’d done it because of you, not for you. He’d finally said so directly to you in an email of all things, telling you that he didn’t think you should come back because you were not good for each other anymore. You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back, but the finality of Frankie’s words broke you wide open again.

You kept scrolling, seeing pictures he’d posted of things happening in what used to be your house. Will, Santi, Hannah and Frankie looked happy. Happy without you and without Benny, and you couldn’t help but think they were now happier. They didn’t need you and their lives kept going and here you were, stuck. 

Sure, you’d made new friends, but you kept them at an arm's length, never ready to let them in and see how big the hole in your chest was - the raw, Frankie-shaped hole you carried every day that never seemed to heal and would ooze and weep without warning. You longed to be able to let someone see all your aching, busted pieces and sit with you, gently helping you put them back together. Your therapist had said that it was unreasonable to ask or think someone else had to fix you, and while you saw the reason, you resented the sentiment. 

A new picture was posted as you scrolled - Frankie kissing another woman with the text below indicating his special ‘princess’.. Your lungs seized and your blood ran hot in your cold veins. You knew her, she was the girl who ran the front desk at the mechanic shop Frankie worked at, and now you felt sick, wondering how long that had been going on; had it been happening under your nose the whole time and you didn’t see it? 

You felt your face getting hot as angry tears cascaded down your cheeks. He was the one who fucked up and he had replaced you? You had been his princess - the special name he called you in the bedroom - never wanting to bring that name out in public, and now he was casually announcing to the world that he had erased you. The jealous rage that was screeching in your head let you think that he had purposely posted this just to hurt you, and fuck… it had. 

You threw your phone across the kitchen as hard as you could, causing Butter and Bagels to come maow-ing into the kitchen to investigate. You slid down the counters and sobbed into your knees and Butter bunted his head against your leg, sympathetically head butting and chirping at you through purrs.

****

After an impromptu cat cuddle on the kitchen floor, you cleaned yourself up and decided that you weren't going to let your doom scrolling through Frankie’s feed affect your Wednesday evening. You were going to look good even if you didn’t feel good.

The walk to the bistro was a little cooler with the changing of the seasons finally happening, and you welcomed the warm, sweet air that blew over you as you walked through the door. 

You came out earlier than normal and the bistro seemed a bit busier. Ezra looked up and smiled at you, nodding his head to a vacant spot at the bar.

“You are early, little bird.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze and you looked down as you took off your jacket and hung it on the back of your chair. You nodded, “Yeah…I-uh, sorry. Home was - I wanted…”

He opened his mouth to respond with a smile, but another customer pulled his attention away before he could speak.

****

Ezra came and went from the spot in front of you, carrying most of the conversation, seemingly knowing that you weren’t ready to lead it yet, and you felt emboldened to give him signals that you were interested. You sat forward and kept eye contact, laughed and were animated as you interacted with him. 

“I can’t run the risk of arousing suspicion by you sitting here without a drink.”

“Oh, we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”, you smiled, raising the tumbler glass to take a sip. It tasted amazing. “Oh my god… Ezra! You’re a wonder.”

You swore you saw a bit of pink flash on his cheeks when he smiled and looked down at his hands before he looked up at you through his eyelashes. “Now, little bird, I would be a piss-poor excuse of a barman if I couldn’t make a simple Old Fashioned, wouldn’t I?”

*****

The hours whiled away, moving faster than your work day, and you got to watch Ezra ease his way from patron to patron, but always returning to you. When his back was turned, you got to marvel at his broad shoulders as they pulled the faded Henley across his back, and when he turned around, you got a peek of his chest and collarbone at the base of his perfect neck. You couldn’t help but compare him to Frankie: his build was much smaller and he was sinewy, but he was a bit taller and moved like an artist and not a mechanic. His hands were large with nimble thick fingers, and his crooked grin flashed a gold tooth every now and then. If Frankie was a linebacker, Ezra was a pirate.

Around 7:00 pm, the bistro’s activities had lulled to a slow, sleepy pace. You looked up and saw that you were now one of three customers left and Ezra was nowhere to be seen. Just as you were standing up, you heard him clear his throat behind you.

“Are you leaving, little bird?”

You jumped and turned around. “Oh! Ezra!”

You hadn’t been this close to him. There was always the bartop between you, and now that he stood before you with no barriers, any bravery you thought you had evaporated the moment you looked him in the eyes. His big, deep brown eyes. Just like Frankies.They were so much like Frankie’s that you couldn’t look away and your breath caught on the lump in your throat; your and the noises in the bistro faded into muted, rounded sounds. Your vision seemed to tunnel as your eyes stung with unshed tears, and Ezra’s brows furrowed. His hands caught you as you stumbled forward.

“Hey, hey, hey…”, he whispered, soothing his hand on your elbow in his hold.

“Fuck!”, you hissed, pulling yourself back and refusing to look up, sniffling back a sob.. “I’m sorry - I… I can’t.”

You grabbed your coat and left as quickly as you could, not bothering to look back.

****

It was Wednesday morning again. A whole week since you embarrassed yourself in front of a man, destroying any chance you’d had with him. 

Benny had been on a pleasant yet tense phone call with Will when you came bursting into the apartment last Wednesday, almost dry heaving from crying so hard. He hung up the call and chased you to your room, having to pick the lock to the door to get in. You finally calmed down enough to tell him what happened, originally leaving out the part about Frankie’s instagram, but the full truth all came bubbling to the surface eventually. 

After another session with your therapist, you alone had come to the decision that without a shadow of a doubt, the best course of action would be for you to avoid Ezra and that bistro at all costs. Neither your therapist nor Benny thought that was the best promise to make, but only your therapist was willing to tell you so.

So on this Wednesday morning you laid in bed, staring at the ceiling as the pale morning light painted it with shadows through your blinds. You heard the cats calling out for their breakfast and whatever bits of food Benny would drop on the floor from his morning meal, and you knew it was inevitable that you had to start your day.

You went through the motions of your morning routine with Benny, then sat at your desk, zoning out as you cruised on autopilot through your work day. You chased the swirling thoughts about Frankie and Ezra away by focusing on the sound of your fingers chatting on the keyboard as you typed, and you plowed through your work, only briefly stopping for lunch, determined to not let your mind wander to your phone and feel the urge to look at Frankie’s happy fucking life again. 

The fear of spiraling kept you in line and you didn’t realize what time it was until you heard Benny unlock the door and drop his things on the floor. You sat up and stretched, hearing your joints pop as you finally moved out of the hunched-over position you’d set yourself in hours before. You yawned and looked at the time, noting Benny was home later than normal.

“Mouse, honey. It’s Wednesday.”

You swiveled your chair around, and Benny’s sad eyes looked at you sympathetically from the office door. 

You looked down and picked at a loose thread on your pants. “I know what day it is, Benny.”

“You should be out chatting up what’s-his-name at the bar place… Esther or what ever.”

Benny had won and you relented, looking up at him with a half smile. “Ezra.”

“I know, but I made you smile.”

*****

Benny made dinner and it was only once you’d started eating that he’d told you he was going away that weekend. A few of the guys from the gym had decided to arrange a last minute bachelor party out of town for someone and Benny was going with. He assured you that he’d cancel if you weren’t ready to be on your own for a whole weekend and you assured him that you would be fine. 

The next day, when it was no longer Wednesday and you felt like you could breathe again, you had your weekly session with your therapist. You talked about Ezra’s beautiful eyes and how you didn’t want him to pay for Frankie’s mistakes, and you brought up being alone this weekend for the first time in eight months. She suggested that you do something just for you - something that would make you and you alone happy. 

After your session, you walked to the store to pick up some provisions for the following night. Instead of ordering in, you’d decided to cook something for yourself. You hadn’t so much as prepared a piece of toast since moving in with Benny and being on your own for the weekend seems like a good time to start again.

You wandered the aisle, slightly overwhelmed by the selection of olive oils this small supermarket had, and you heard a throat clear behind you.

Turning around, you were met with those big, brown eyes again, but they were duller and sadder, and were shaded under a ballcap and framed by a mess of unruly curls. 

“Hey, Mouse.”

Frankie nervously fidgeted his hands at his side and shuffled his weight between his feet. 

He looked… nervous, almost scared. Like he’d used all his gumption to approach you, and had no idea what to do now that you were looking at him. His eyes were weary and they darted around your face, connecting with yours sporadically before taking off again. 

“Hey, Frankie.”

The calm in your voice was foreign to you. You had not only hoped for but also dreaded this exact scenario for months, and now that it was happening, you felt far more at peace than you thought you would. 

You offered him a small, polite smile. “How are you?”

“I-uh…”, he rubbed the back of his neck and you didn’t recognize this Frankie, the one who you apparently made nervous by just existing. The gaping hole in your chest shrunk slightly.

“I’m… I’m okay. Just workin’, ya know? And, uh… yeah. Heard Benny was out of town this weekend and I…”

“Yeah.”, you said softly and then offered a tight, closed mouth smile. It shrunk a little more.

His eyes finally stilled as he looked you over. “You… You look good, Mouse. Really good.”

You leaned back, putting some more space between you, and let out a long breath through your nose. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes. It shrunk again.

“And you’re dating again.”, you asked though it came out as a statement, keeping your tone light.

Frankie paused and shook his head, looking down. “Tried to. She wasn’t- uh… didn’t work out.”

You nodded and hummed. “That’s too bad.” Another size down.

He raised head and his eyes once again grazed over you. It would have set you on fire before, but now it felt unnecessary and you looked away, your jaw tightened. 

“I miss you.” 

“Frankie - don’t.” You shook your head. Less and less…

“I know. I know what I said in that email, but I didn’t mean it.” Frankie’s eyes pleaded as he took a step closer and you took one back. “My shrink, she said that it was a good thing to- to break it off and close any open doors, but baby, I miss you so mu-”

“Frankie!” The rawness and hurt was subsiding and the hole was shrinking again.

“Baby - Mouse…” He took another step towards you. “I fucked up and -”

“Stop.” Your voice was firm and you stepped towards him, shaking your head. Your body was trembling with rage. “Frankie - don’t you dare. I am not doing this with you.”

You shoved your half empty grocery basket into his chest and stormed out of the store. Your fists clenched and unclenched repeatedly as you speed walked down the street, finding yourself walking towards the newest place on your list of places you swore you’d never go to again.

Ezra didn’t look up as you walked in. “Take a seat where you like, friend. I will assist you momentarily.”

For the first time since you walked out of your old home - house? - from Frankie, you felt free. The choke hold that the grief had on you was loosening its grip and that giant, aching wound that you thought would never go away felt less.

You sat at your usual spot and Ezra turned around.

“Alright, friend. What libations can I -”

He paused and his beautiful brown eyes widened. They were bright and mischievous with a depth you hadn’t realized they carried, now that you weren’t comparing them to Frankie’s. The sideways grin pulled the dimple on his cheek to the surface and he leaned forward on his elbows, speaking softly. 

“Why little bird - I thought I’d lost you.”

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread in your chest and responded. “Would you like to come to my house for dinner tomorrow night?”

No more tag lists - follow @beefnotes + turn on notifications for fic updates!

[joels-darlin]

Surprises

Pairings: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Warnings: fluff, mention of alcohol, mentions of stress.

Summary: Pedro has been planning something special which is finally revealed over your weekly Friday evening ritual.

Word count: 1402

Author Note: Little piece I've been working on for a short while. Debated not posting this the ending is pretty crap but hey ho here we go. Sorry it's not great. As usual any feedback is appreciated, enjoy <3 Posted on AO3

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Since the start of your friendship with Pedro, when he wasn’t away filming of course, Friday nights had been the one stable thing in your life. This consisted of sharing a bottle of wine (sometimes 2 depending on how the week went) out on the patio with a takeaway of choice. Losing count on how many times you had frequented his guest bedroom, Pedro not wanting you to be driving under the influence. Now that your friendship had progressed into a relationship nothing had changed, that time still reserved for just the two of you - except now spent cuddled under a blanket. It wasn’t hard to believe how it happened. All the years of built up feelings spilling out over (you guessed it) a bottle of wine one cool summers evening, the start of the relationship sealed with a kiss.

You where in the midst of wrapping up work for day in the office of your now shared home, Pedro asking you to move in after some time together, beaming with excitement for your week off but also your normal Friday night plans. A quick glance at the clock showing it was 6pm and after already working well over your normal hours, it was time to log off. You sent a brief message to you colleagues wishing them pleasant weekends - but also the reminder that you where on leave next week. Making sure to also set your emails to Out of Office mode, before shutting down the computer.

It seemed strange taking a random week off in the middle of the year, you usually saved any annual leave for Christmas time so you could travel to either see his or your family - rotating every year. It was only last month that Pedro suggested it whilst sitting down one evening to dinner at home. It was the one time he had a break in filming until the end of the year, so you agreed that it would be good to spend some time together.

Grabbing your phone from the charging stand noticing the screen littered with notifications - mostly messages from family members & friends. Scrolling to the bottom the one that caught your eye was from Pedro from an hour ago, swiping the screen to open the conversation.

P 💜 Just nipped out cariño, let me know if you need anything. I popped my head in earlier but you where engrossed in work. See you soon hermosa xx

Messaging back a quick response the phone then placed in the pocket of your shorts. Deciding on a shower before Pedro returned home you padded through the house to the bathroom, not forgetting to grab a towel from the cupboard on the way.

The sun was just starting to set as you took the usual spots on the couch outside, casting a glowing orange hue across the garden. The only background noise being the ruffling of the tree leaves, caused by the light breeze in the air, and the random music playlist that was playing on the outside speakers. You sighed in contentment as he reached over to pour a large serving into the empty glasses that lay on the table. “For you mi amor” he said softly, holding out the glass, you thanked him lifting the glass to your lips for a small sip before setting it down on the table. Already feeling slightly tipsy from the bottle of wine you had consumed with dinner you made a mental note to take it slowly with this one. He settled back into the couch again, arm slung across your shoulders, you curled into his side appreciating the warmth radiating off his body in the cool evening.

The general chatter was flowing easily with you discussing how both your weeks had gone as well as sharing a few funny stories and awful jokes from Pedro’s end. It was quite the romantic setting, taking moments in between conversation to steal a few soft and slow kisses - mostly just appreciating each others company. It was nice to just switch off and forget about the stresses of everything, you hadn’t failed to miss Pedro’s brows furrowing with concern and pulling you little closer when you mentioned that you had a lot on your plate at the moment, regards to your job. Making a promise to push it to be back of your mind so you can finally enjoy a week off together.

“So…I have a surprise for you, let me go grab it quickly” he said untangling from your embrace before walking back inside the patio doors. Pedro re-appeared a few minutes later clutching 2 white envelopes, taking the seat beside you. “This one is first” He grinned handing over one of the envelopes, shooting him a mysterious look. You sort of hated but also loved surprises, he knew that, and prayed that he hadn’t of gone out of his way to spend a fortune on you again. The excuse always being “Well I like treating my girl”.

Sliding your finger under tab you carefully prised open the envelope, careful not to rip the contents, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper. Unfolding it carefully, taking a moment to read it’s contents. “Wait…P…what” you gasped, bringing a hand to cover your mouth in shock. There in back and white, the details of two flight tickets back to your home. “You where probably wondering why I asked you to take a random week off I have been planning this for awhile, I thought we could take a vacation and go visit your family…” he explained. “…It’s just you have been looking a little down recently and thought this might give you a pick me up” his free hand dropping to caress your thigh softly. “I-P-thankyou” moving your eyes from the paper to look into those soft brown orbs, tears threatening to spill from your own. He smiled softly. “That’s not the only thing…” placing the second envelope in your lap “Open this” he grinned excitement present in his voice.

Picking up the second envelope with shaking hands. Pedro obviously noticed this moving his arm to snake around your waist fingers grazing softly over some exposed skin; a calming gesture. You made quick work of the seal then unfolded the second sheet of paper, scanning it’s contents. Was this really happening? How had he managed it? Two tickets to see your favourite artist at the arena back home.

“Oh. My. God. P-What-” and that was it the flood gates opened, tear tracks staining your cheeks. “Oh sweetheart, I hope those are happy tears” he cooed pulling you into his embrace, placing a kiss on your hair. Pedro knew when the tickets released months ago you had tried and tried to get your hands on some - eager to see the artist live again. After pulling a few strings with his agent and a shift around in schedule he not only managed to bag 2 VIP tickets but also some well needed downtime - which is when the idea came into play about visiting your family. The concert being something you two would also attend whilst over there. It had all fell into place superbly. Taking a moment to compose yourself then you leaned up looking into his eyes. “But-how? I tried but-just Thankyou P, I-I don’t know what to say”“ stuttering to form any coherent sentences, instead deciding to lean over and press a soft kiss on his lips which he happily reciprocated. “Anything for you mi querida” he whispered against your lips, moving to kiss the tip of your nose softly. You pulled back to scan the papers again. “Wait-” you exclaimed eyes scanning the dates, “We-we leave tomorrow?”. He hummed and nodded in response to the question, draining the last of his wine glass and placing it on the table. “Come on querida we have some serious packing to do” Pedro grinned, standing up from the couch he extended his hand which you took intertwining both your fingers. You giggled following suit to stand a moment after, hands still laced together. “Lead the way then mi amor”. In the blink of an eye you where being pulled (gently of course) through into the house and up the stairs, the sounds of both your laughter filling the rooms as you collapsed on the bed. Absolutely no worries in the world enjoying a moment; just the two of you.

[section-chief-prentiss]

Part Two: Bigger than the Whole Sky

PART ONE

Note: Thank you so much for the love on part 1! I hadn’t anticipated writing a part 2, but thank you to everyone who suggested it; I ended up having a great time writing this, and I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: 7 months after leaving her life behind to go into hiding, Emily reunites with Aaron.

Word Count: 2287

Ao3

Emily never knew 7 months could feel like an eternity. 

Each day spent in Paris felt slower than the last, especially as she didn’t know when she’d see her love again. 

The only reprieve was her weekly online Scrabble matches with CheetoBreath, a username JJ adopted to protect her identity. Emily went with SergiosMom, another thing she missed while she was away—her beloved cat. 

After a few weeks, Emily knew she was getting worse at hiding her bad attitude, and it was coming out in the word choices she played. So, one week, when she found JackAttack waiting for her instead of CheetoBreath, her heart stopped. “Jack Attack” was a loving phrase Hotch coined and used each time Jack sprinted into their room in the morning to wake them up. 

The website they played Scrabble on didn’t have a chatting feature, which was why JJ chose it, for her protection, Emily knew, but all she wanted to do was confirm it was Aaron. 

The first word he played, “Honey,” was all the confirmation she needed. Aaron’s nickname for her. Emily broke down into tears at her computer, never having missed him more than in this moment, while also savoring this limited interaction they were allowed to have.

She waited to collect the letters she needed so she could spell out a message of her own. After a few turns, her opportunity arose to use her nickname for him: “Love.” 

It wasn’t a perfect system, but it was what they had. And Emily vowed in that moment to repay JJ however she could once she was home to thank her for taking this risk.

One day, just over 7 months after leaving her friends—her family—behind, she woke in the middle of the night to a phone call. 

The number that lit up her phone screen wasn’t one she recognized, but the new phone she’d been given with her changed identity didn’t have any of her previous contacts. Something in her told her to answer, despite her exhaustion, and she lifted the phone to her cheek.

“Hello?” She murmured.

“Emily,” a deep voice replied. 

The sound was like a jolt to her system—it was one she hadn’t heard in months, but one she’d never let herself forget. She bolted up in bed.

“Aaron?” her voice cracked.

“We need you. Declan’s in danger.”

Emily was out of bed and on her feet in a flash. “Did Ian find him?”

“Sort of, it’s a long story. We have Ian in custody, but we need you.”

Emily grabbed her duffle bag from her closet—one she’d kept packed with essentials since moving into her Paris apartment, in case she needed to flee in a hurry.

“I’m on my way.”

“We have you booked on the 7 am flight out of Paris; can you get everything together by then?”

“Oh, love,” Emily smiled. “I’m already packed.”

“The ticket is in your email. We’ll see you soon,” he paused. “And Emily?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you more,” she breathed, hanging up before he could argue. 

***

Emily knew she should sleep on the flight, to make up for the sleep she hadn’t gotten the night before. But she couldn’t relax, knowing Aaron would be waiting at the airport to take her back to the BAU. They’d have to separate once they returned to the office so Aaron could debrief the team and reveal that she was alive, but she was itching for those few minutes of alone time on the drive between the airport and the office.

When the plane landed, Emily had to fight her instincts to keep herself from elbowing past the passengers slowly grabbing their carry-ons from the overhead bins and barreling her way off the plane. 

Her fingers impatiently tapped the seat while she waited. An elderly lady sitting next to her smiled.

“Meeting someone special?” 

All Emily could do was nod. 

She ducked out of the way, gesturing for Emily to go past. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” Emily said on her way past, slinging her duffle bag over her shoulder and running as fast as her legs would take her.

Not caring about the judgmental looks she received, she sprinted through the airport and out to where Aaron would be waiting to pick her up. Naturally, he stood right outside the doors he claimed he’d be at, a rare smile on his face, standing next to one of the BAU’s infamous black SUVs.

“Aaron,” she sobbed, throwing her duffle bag to the ground and wrapping her arms around him. She took a deep breath, familiarizing herself with his usual cologne. 

He smelled like home.

“I promised I’d bring you home to us,” Aaron said into her ear.

His words brought back the memory of being in the hospital all those months ago, Aaron vowing that their separation wouldn’t be for long. She’d clung to those words every day since. 

It wasn’t until she pulled away that she took in his unusual appearance—the unkempt hair, the outgrown facial hair, the gray t-shirt underneath a blue button-down, the sleeves of which were rolled up to his elbows.

“This is a new look for you,” she mused, raising an eyebrow.

Aaron ran a hand through his already messy hair. “I have a lot to fill you in on. But it’ll have to wait. Are you ready to see the team?”

Emily’s stomach churned. It was a reunion she was eagerly anticipating and dreading in equal measure. She didn’t know how to anticipate their reactions.

But despite it all, she nodded. “Let’s go.” 

***

When they reached the BAU, Aaron headed up first to meet with the rest of the team. Emily stalled in the car for a few minutes, anxiously fidgeting with her hair and outfit until she got a text from Aaron with the go-ahead.

She slung her purse over her shoulder and headed for the elevator.

Everything at the BAU felt the same, but different. On the surface, everything looked as it did when she left. But she knew there were months worth of memories that had taken place in her absence. Would she ever be able to catch up?

She swallowed her nerves; there would be time for that later. For now, she needed to focus on Declan. 

Emily lingered outside the round-table room, careful to stay out of anyone’s eyeline, but close enough to hear the conversation happening just a few feet away.

Her heart swelled at the sight of her friends, even if it was just their backs. She knew she missed them, but she hadn’t realized how much until she was this close to reuniting with them.

“Everything alright?” Morgan asked, every bit the stubborn man she’d remembered. Despite Aaron telling everyone to take a seat, Morgan maintained his standing position. 

Aaron crossed his arms. “7 months ago, I made a decision that affected this team.”

Emily held her breath.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. But the doctors were able to stabilize her.”

Emily ran a hand down the scar on her abdomen, a permanent reminder of what she had endured and survived. Her heart ached with the other reminder it gave her—of the baby she hadn’t known she was pregnant with and had lost that day.

“And she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under covert exfiltration.”

Penelope lifted her head toward Aaron. Emily could read her shock even from her distant position.

“Her identity was strictly need-to-know. And she stayed there until she was well enough to travel. She was reassigned to Paris, where she was given several new identities, none of which we had access to, for her security.” 

Aaron’s voice was even, calm. But Emily could read the pain interlacing it—the pain of their long separation.

Morgan took a staggered step back, and Penelope’s jaw dropped.

“She’s alive?” Penelope breathed.

“But we buried her,” Spencer mused.

“As I said, I take full responsibility for the decision. If anyone has any issues, they should be directed toward me,” Aaron continued.

“Any issues?” Morgan said. “Yeah, I got issues.”

Emily cringed but knew this was her cue. She took slow steps from the hallway toward the round-table room. She felt every face turn to her, her heels clanking with each step was the only sound in the room, but she could only look at Morgan—at her former partner. 

“Oh, my god,” Penelope said softly, through her tears.

In an instant, the room was on its feet. Spencer reached Emily first, and she almost staggered under the weight he threw at her. She rubbed his back, heart aching for the boy who had already lost so much, on top of which, he’d had to live 7 months thinking his friend was dead. 

“I’m so sorry—I really am,” Emily said, pulling away from Spencer and taking Penelope’s hand, who was staring at her with a wonderstruck expression. “Not a day went by that I didn’t want to…”

Emily broke off when she made eye contact with Morgan. Took in his heartbroken, pained expression. She took a slow step toward him. “Really, I… You didn’t deserve that. And I’m so sorry.” 

Carefully, Emily reached out to wrap Morgan in her embrace. For a moment, she was afraid he was just going to stand there, rigid, but eventually, he thawed enough to place a hesitant arm around her, and she had to fight back tears of relief.

They would be okay. Eventually.

Emily felt Aaron watching her from across the room, but she couldn’t look at him. She knew she’d only fall apart.

She needed to focus. 

“There’s so much I want to tell you guys,” she said. “And I will. I promise. But right now I really need to know what’s going on with Declan.” 

***

By the time the case was over, Emily was mentally and physically exhausted. It was a long day, and she hadn’t slept for almost 48 hours. All she wanted was to go home and fall asleep under the same roof as Aaron and Jack.

She could sleep peacefully, now that Ian was dead and Declan protected. A luxury she hadn’t had in almost a year. 

But when they pulled up to their home, Aaron asked Emily to wait for a moment in the car. She was too exhausted to question it, so she nodded, resting her head back against the seat and taking a moment to close her eyes.

The next thing she knew, she was being gently shaken awake. Her eyes flew open, and she turned to find Aaron standing outside her car door.

“Sorry, love. You can come in now.”

“How long was I out?” She asked, feeling dazed.

“Just a couple of minutes,” he assured her, offering her a hand.

On the other side of their car, Jess was pulling out of the driveway in her familiar sedan. Jess raised a hand in a wave before driving out of sight.

“Oh, I didn’t know Jess was here; I should’ve said hello…”

Aaron smiled. “It’s okay, honey; she was just dropping off Jack. You’ll get a chance to talk later.” 

“Jack,” her heart skipped a beat. How much had he grown while she was gone? What had she missed?

Hotch slung Emily’s bag over his shoulder, leading her through the front door by her hand. 

As soon as they were inside, Emily marveled at how nothing in the house had changed—everything was exactly as it had been 7 months ago. She didn’t know if Aaron had done that on purpose, but it brought her peace—this rare sense of normalcy.

“I know you’re tired,” Aaron said, setting her bag down. “But I was hoping we could play one game of Scrabble before bed.”

Emily smiled. “I suppose I can stay awake long enough for that.”

They made their way to the dining room table, where a board was already set out and waiting. Emily frowned as they approached, spotting letters on the board.

“It looks like someone already started a game,” she teased. 

It wasn’t until she was right in front of the table that she noticed it was also covered in rose petals. And it wasn’t a random game that had been started—there was a message for her, spelled out in tiles.

WILL YOU MARRY ME?

Emily’s hands flew to her mouth in surprise, glancing to Aaron for confirmation. He was grinning from ear to ear, and behind him, Jack snuck into the room, holding a ring box open, revealing a silver band with a teardrop stone. 

“Will you marry my daddy, Emmy?” He asked.

His little voice opened the floodgates of the emotions she’d kept carefully guarded for 7 months, and she burst into tears, throwing her arms around the little boy. 

“Of course, I will,” she said, kissing Jack on the cheek.

She gently took the ring box from the boy and handed it to Aaron.

“Yes,” she said to him. “Yes.”

He gingerly collected the ring, setting the box aside on the table, and placed the ring on her finger. Then, she threw her arms around her beloved—her fiance—and kissed him.

When they parted, Aaron was still smiling. “I never want to spend a day apart from you again.”

“Agreed,” she said, kissing him again.

“I’d marry you tomorrow if I could.” 

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

“You should have the wedding you deserve,” he frowned.

Emily shook her head. “Any wedding to you is the wedding I deserve. Let’s elope. Tomorrow. We can bring the team; maybe it’ll melt some of the ice between us.”

Aaron smiled. “Whatever you want.”

Emily sighed, never feeling more content than in this moment. “I could get used to that.”

[yokozii]

Life Update

full transparency: I figured I'd express and post this now before I don't have access to do so.

I have been trying my hardest to find work and I have an interview tomorrow but it is a distance I have to travel and I can't afford to get there. it was either buy food for next few days or not have enough for the ride. I literally have not had much $ this past month, from having to pack up and leave my hotel to moving here took all my money I had. my best friend even helped which was great, she's an angel and I even had a few people donate to help me which was wonderful I appreciate those people a ton too.  unfortunately this job, they're the only company that has replied to me within the last 2 weeks, my last interview decided not to pick me that I spent over a month in communication with which sucks. I've applied to 32 jobs within the last month. I literally counted them all and I feel like either someone is preventing me from getting hired, my phone & email are both hacked, or something is stopping my progression. patreon funds for June went towards my storage where all my things are *so grateful for everyone here for that* and transportation to move around. other than those I have nothing at this point. all of my saved $ went towards the hotel which is what frustrates me the most that they did not care about my situation at all prior to having to leave. to make matters worse the lady that I've been staying with doesn't really want me here & isn't who I thought she was when she offered me to stay. I thought she was a friend (old co-worker) but all she does is lie about everything, steal, and does alot of crooked hateful things to people and is really mean to her kids. but she sent me a text tonight that said her landlord found out I was staying here and I have to leave by friday or she gets evicted. which I don't know is even true or if she is lying about it and just wants me gone because I asked her eldest son who and he was clueless. either way I don't have anywhere to go, shelters are full for the next month near me and everything is getting worse and worse & I feel very hopeless. I don't know what to do.

I don't want to constantly ask or expect help but I do think this is because for so many years I went through alot of abuse and pain and did not ask for help which is more than likely why I'm in this position and I have no one to depend on irl, I have never asked for help up until I left last year and I still struggle with it and I'm doing all of this on my own without help. this is alot on me & I can't take this on

I don't know when I will be able to make anything new or be active creating so don't expect any CC moving forward for the time being. I just can't do this mentally

I'm mobile right now, but if anyone can help I'd be grateful. here are my links 

direct paypal link

cashapp : $Yokozii

Ko-Fi

thank you everyone , if you can't it's okay but please share if you can

*this will auto post when the queue runs out sometime in July, I'm not going to be actively posting for a while, I will check notifications from mobile*

[eddievansick]

No joke left behind

I had just begun to start my latest comeback. And I do TikToks and send them to Instagram too, but I try not to do anything on Facebook because of all the hackers and Facebook's constant desire NOT to do anything about hackers or cloned accounts. I have some content on YouTube too, but I have either been working way too many hours just to survive, so comedy wasn't possible for the 10 or so years. But I was doing good back in the day and with about 1000 followers I was on my way to making it. But I got hurt at work and the government had different plans for my life, basically to end it, but I'm not gonna get into that right now. Maybe later tho.

So I came up with an idea. I was gonna pool all my jokes, new and old, together, make a list, and get back out there. But money gets tight and Im struggling with a few injuries that caused my early retirement, so I decided to do albums. All the jokes about my son on one album (which I planned to do for a few years), then all my taxi jokes, complete with all the jokes about my gps girlfriend, Samantha (I still miss her. Every time a use my phones gps I think about her), and then all the "crazy" jokes, which basically covers everything.

But as I dove into my project I started to relive the past 12 years of my life, and I didn't realize that was gonna happen. Its depressing. You have no idea how depressing.

My plan was to go through a list that an old girlfriend made for me when I first started doing comedy. Then to go through both my phones for jokes I texted and sent, or didn't send, then go through all my emails. Then I was gonna go through my Facebook and all other social media sites for all those jokes. And of course all my TikTok and Instagram. But when I got to the Facebook it all hit me. I had deleted my first 3-4 Facebook sites, mainly because of all the hackers on Facebook and the silencing of political truth and their extreme far left agenda, but the last one I took screenshots of so I didn't lose the content. Some were jokes, some were memories. And not all the memories were good. Especially the last 11 years.

And i'm ocd so when I save something on the pc, or send a joke or another writing, i usually send it to more than 1 other source, and sometimes to 4 other sources. Then I move it and save it again so I don't lose it. Then I use it again and save it all over, and repeat what I see is a vicious cycle. Some things I had saved almost 2 dozen times and now I was reliving the last 12 years of my life almost 2 dozen times. And it was depressing.

So I came up with a better idea. I'll write a book. It'll start with all the jokes about my son in chronological order, then go to the taxi and work related jokes, most of which have never been written before, but yep I got them, then the rest of my life, which is basically what I write about because its good to write about things you know, and I know me better than anyone else I know. I've been me for over 60 years now and, well, nobody does it better. It's not easy being me, don't get it wrong. In fact its torture sometimes, but I gotta be me, nobody does it better. I got experience like I said. In fact, one time at one job, as we were leaving for union negotiations, a manager joked, "so who is gonna be you now Ed?" And I told her, "well Patty, you can give it it try, but I wouldn't suggest it, not for a minute. Its not easy. Its tough." When we got back from the union vote I asked her, "so how was it?' And she said she didn't last 5 minutes, so I said "i told you so" and we all laughed. Why THEY were laughing I cant tell you. Its not easy being me.

Then from the book I will have a guide for recording the albums, and put everything on TikTok and Instagram. With the book I can do the sitcom and the movie, then do other movies and shows and be rich and famous all for about 6-12 months before I get hit by a truck or die some other way, and become a household name like Heath Ledger or James Dean, and have people cry at my funeral like they ever knew me, and visit my grave and leave their panties, and on and on and on.

But now its time to get serious again about writing. If I make it great, if not oh well. Even now my great-great-great-great-great-great, great, great grandchildren have an inheritance from me. And Im already gonna be a cult classic at least because of my christmas song "Ghetto Hell" and as of this moment I have made a grand total of $14.24 through DistroKid for its distribution to YouTube and all the other social media and streaming services. My great-great-great-great-great-great, great, great grandchildren should be able to split at least $250 by that time. Most comedians never see earnings that high, so thank you to all my fan, and thank you to my family member, and my several other personalities. Had any of the OTHER different personalities checked out Ghetto Hell on YouTube, I would have already been at $15.00 by now, but THAT'S OK! Be that way. See if I care.

The book shall be called No Joke Left Behind

[sci-fi-freaksandgeeks]

outing some of the truly awful things my mother has said or done (because this is tumblr and she'll never see it, and even if she does, she won't believe it's about her):

1.when i was 13, she discovered a text i'd forgotten to delete before a nightly phone-check, in which i told my best friend that i had "broken up with [my boyfriend] because i realized i'm gay," which then led to a further investigation into my internet doings where she found my secret s/h account, and ultimately ended with her storming into my room at 3 a.m., breaking my phone in half in front of me, making me sleep in her bed the rest of the night, and checking me into an inpatient facility at 8 a.m.

2. she then made my 10 year old brother lie to everyone at school and say i was home sick with the flu while i was in said inpatient facility

3. when i got out and was doing my mandatory two years of outpatient therapy, she found a new therapist every time they brought her in for our family sessions and she felt like she was being blamed; when it happened with the last therapist, she even went so far as to storm out in the middle of session

4. from the night she broke the phone (i call it d-day in my head, i know that's really not classy or anything okay i started doing it when i was 13 and didn't even really know history) but anyway from d-day until my 18th birthday i was effectively grounded: no phone, restricted internet access (ill come back to that actually), and definitely no going out with friends or to sleepovers.

5. when i was about 16, we'd moved a couple of times and ended up at this huge school that tbh i hated, but anyways i met a girl that i didn't hate, and then when my mom found out she'd had enough and pulled me out of public school altogether.

6. so then for the next 9 months she thought i was homeschooling, but since i quickly learned that a) i wasn't actually attending school through an accredited online academy but rather a website set up by some christian lady who taught her own kids, and b) my mother couldn't actually be bothered to check and see if i was actually doing anything, i factory reset the "restricted" computer she gave me for school and spent my nights online talking to the aforementioned girl, and my days sleeping and ignoring my mother's email's (that's how she communicated with me since she took my phone away)

7. told me i looked like this dog-

-any time i straighted my hair

8. this one was actually one of the few awful things she's ever said to my brother: she told him he "should be ashamed of himself" when he was almost 20 and told her that his girlfriend was pregnant, even though she got pregnant with me at 18 (projecting much??)

9. soooooo many snarky comments about any thing and everything - from disapproval of the few hobbies i tried to find joy in, all the way to comments about every aspect of my appearance

10. okay last one - the one and only time i tried to get her to sit down and meet a girlfriend, yknow, to see how happy and healthy i was, she ignored my girlfriend the entire time, only talked about her job or people my girlfriend couldn't possibly know, and actually stormed out at the end of the meal when i told her she hadn't made much of an effort to talk to my girlfriend and it upset me (she paid for lunch on her way out at least)

[casspurrjoybell-24]

The Alpha's Beta - Chapter 17 - Part 2

BOOK ONE: The Alpha's Trilogy

*Warning Adult Content*

The Pack Holding Cells - Part 2

Beta Darren Phoenix

After my chat with Simon Claymore, I got up and went to the clearing, to warm up and trained with everybody.

We did a run, hand to hand combat, mind over body exercises, Ellis had shown the group a new fighting technique they would use in there human form, for if they didn't have time to change and then we went for our last run around Lake Marshall.   

"Good job man... but I gotta ask... where's Alpha Silas?" Ellis asked, coming up behind me and patting me on the back.

He left his hand on my neck for few seconds, before moving it back to his side.  

I just shrugged, not really knowing or caring where the Alpha was.

He could be out 'releasing his stress' by fucking someone else for all I cared.

Though I knew he wasn't because I would feel the bond being torn.   

It was almost funny, when he had sex with Lucca, I would feel the strain but it didn't feel like it was damaged.

It made sense now that I know he didn't know I was his mate.

So I could only imagine the pain I would feel, if he willingly slept with someone else.  

**********

I made my way to the I.T. room I had that gut feeling again, that one the churned my stomach, like a child's nerves at a Christmas concert.

I took a deep breath to try and rid the feelings and after a few minutes, it finally subsided and I made my way inside the room.

Everything was as it was left yesterday.

My desk chair was pulled out, Silas' chair was beside mine.

My computer was turned off and Quinton and Darcy looked as if they haven't moved an inch, as well.   

"Anything on Silas' cell-phone Quinton?" I asked, as I sat down in my chair and turned my computer on.   

"Nothing really. I tracked the number to a disposable phone that was activated in New York but it was activated two months ago. The text went through eighteen different systems but I can't seem to find what one the text first stemmed from. The closest signal from here was about three towns over. I told Simon about it this morning. He talked to Ellis and they're sending someone up there, now."   

"Why wasn't I told about this?" I asked, getting a little frustrated, at the fact no one bothered to say anything to me.   

"Silas came in at about three. I told him everything and then he talked to Ellis and then with Simon. I though Alpha would pass it on to you as well."   

I roll my eyes and started typing into my computer.

I was able to get most of the pack files onto it, so I wouldn't have to worry about losing papers.

I also have everything backed up on my computer in my office.

Plus on three USB's that I have in three different spots.

That was a tip from Simon.   

After half an hour of going through email's, the office door swung open and none-other then Silas, came in.

He doesn't even spare me a glance.

He just walks straight over to Darcy.   

"Anything on Lucca Miethke's family ties yet?" he asks crossing his arms over his chest.

The air around him in thick and would make any normal person run the other way from him.

Darcy nods her head and opens something on her computer.  

"So," she starts off.

"Lucca Miethke is a fourth generation American from Ohio state. His family is originally from Canada and Russia. His Mother, Polina was an immigrant from Russia but she had no living relatives. Her and his father Thomas had Lucca and Alistair. Lucca was the only survivor of a raid, besides an Omega named Snow. He was taken in by a pack up North."

"Thomas Miethke has step-sister, Emily. Who lives in Alberta with her mate and two kids but she's been low on the raider. She even lives in Calgary, which is weird since most werewolves prefer Jasper or Banff," Darcy went on to say Lucca had no known contact with his Aunt, they had hacked into his computer and saw no messages between the two.

"The only thing Lucca really did on his laptop was play Face-book games."   

I looked over to Silas.

He looked tired, his skin was pale and his hair was flat on his head, like it had no life to it.

His eyes skimmed over the words on Darcy's laptop, he just nodded his head along with what was being said.

His normally relaxed shoulders were tense and ridged.

He looked worse then he did yesterday.  

I rolled my eyes and looked back at the computer.

If he thought coming in here and making me feel guilty was going to work, he was wrong.

I wasn't some school-girl that couldn't handle the silent treatment.   

I looked around my desk and let out a groan.

"I left a file in my office. I'll be right back," and with that I left and went up to the office.

************

Opening my office door, I was greeted to my polished oak desk but it was what was behind the desk that made my fingers curl into a fist.   

Behind my desk sat a young boy, with medium length brown hair pulled back into a pony tail and olive skin, no more then twelve, he was digging through my desk drawer like he owned it.

He hadn't noticed me standing in the doorway and what got me was I couldn't get a scent off him.   

I cleared my throat and watched as he nearly touched the roof with his head.

His blue eyes stared widely at me.

I could see his nerves, shaking in his hands.

'Like a deer caught in the headlights.'

"Now, I'm going to ask you nicely. What are you doing?"   

The boy shook his head.

Then looked around franticly, looking for what I could only assume was a way out.

I took a step towards him as I took my cell-phone out of my pocket.

I texted Silas a quick '911' before putting it back in my pocket and looked at the boy.   

"Alright, lets try this again."

I stepped closer and he pressed himself to the wall behind him.

"How many people, are in this building, that shouldn't be right now?"   

The boy held up one shaky finger then pointed towards himself and that was the last thing he did before his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped forwards, into my arms.

'Great.'   

I lifted up the boy so he was laying over both my arms.

Like a bride who had to many shots at her wedding and turned around, just in time to see Silas and Quinton run into the door way.

They both had wide eyes, Silas looked like he was ready to rip someone's limbs apart.  

"Who the hell is that?"   

"Oh you know just some kid I took in... fed... let break into my office and steal my stuff. You know, the regular stuff," I said with a shrug.

Apparently Silas doesn't know how to take sarcasm as he glares at me.

"I just found him going through my desk drawers. The kid just passed out on me. He can't be very old. I don't know who's crazy enough to send him in here alone, when we're all here..."

"I'll call Ellis have him set up a team to check the building and surrounding. Quinton go back and check the security cameras. I'll do a sweep of all the offices. Take him to the infirmary."

I huffed and pushed past the two in the door, bumping my should with the Alpha's on my way out.   

I let it slide that he didn't have someone else take the kid.

Like my senses we're as good as his.

'His panties were in a knot and I was being mature and letting him have his moment.'   

[thekimspoblog]

A Sweet Love Story that is Older than the Sea

When I was 16, I started correspondence with this boy from South Carolina named Josh. I liked him and all, but at the time I was too hung up on my celebrity crush. But he supported me through some really tough times, and after I got out of the eating disorder clinic, I realized I loved him.

After a year or so, we started meeting in person. We lost our virginity together, and we even went to Disney World. To tell the truth, he was my first kiss as well. PS, NEVER go camping at Disney World! Josh was basically the only thing about that trip that didn't suck nards.

But then he started disappearing. I was still having a lot of mental health problems, and he'd go weeks without texting me back. One time, he was missing for so long, I made a go fund me page just to get information. Eventually he did reply: Family had been sick, he had been working double shifts at the gas station; honestly, I think he might have an undiagnosed narcolepsy problem too. Is that a good enough excuse? At the time I certainly didn't think so; I couldn't stand living in suspense like this, so we broke up.

It was mostly amicable, and we'd sporadically email eachother still, but I had mostly cut him loose because I just couldn't help him with his problems. That and little things; I didn't respect his taste in movies.

Six years pass.

I move from PA to CA.

One night last autumn, I'm just sitting in my room, chilling as I do. And I swear to you, my exact thought at the time was "Gee, Jimmy and Kim's romance is so sweeping and old school. How they reconnect after so many years, come crashing back together. I wish I had that. I've had a couple other boyfriends, but nobody as sweet as Josh..." My phone rings...

Normally I wouldn't even pick up an unfamiliar number, but I'm literally staring at the wall, so even if it's a scammer, why not indulge. I mean there's only one person I know from South Carolina, and what are the odds?

I pick up: "Hello? This is Annie" *Dial Tone*

Couple minutes later I get a text. He was just going through his old phone contacts and testing which ones still worked before deleting them. I tell him OMG I was literally just thinking about him! This is spooky! We confess we still love eachother: we've both had other relationships by now and he's thinking maybe we got it right the first time.

Now I won't lie, I can be shallow. I wanted a picture to make sure he was as handsome as I remembered, and I perked up when he mentioned he had a stable career as a plumber now. Don't get me wrong, marrying for love is great, but I need a MAN. My mom's not going to live forever and I don't want to be alone. Just anyone I can stomach trading sex for bodyguard protection. And Josh is one of the few I've met who meets my incredibly high standard of "not scum". We agree that if we're still together once I graduate in 2-3 years, we'll get married. Maybe even have children. I give him homework, three TV shows: "Better Call Saul", "Westworld" and "YOU". Keys to my heart. He doesn't just oblige me, he devours them. Finishes the assignment in a matter of months! Even takes notes and sends them to me, capturing his shock at the plot twists in real time. *dreamy sigh*

He promised things would be different this time. "I'm terrified of losing you" were his exact words. But even at the time, I knew he might up and vanish again. A relationship like this on both sides of the country wouldn't even have been possible 100 years ago. I figured 1. I'm older now, less dependent on boys to make me feel seen. 2. No matter how this pans out, it will be a great source of inspiration for my writing. And what's life without a little heartbreak?

Well a couple months ago, it happened! Just stopped replying! And I must stress WE DID NOT HAVE A FIGHT. The last thing I said to him was playfully sexting him fanfiction ideas like we had been for weeks. If I had to guess, he either lost his phone, is seriously injured, is absolutely slammed at work, or some combination of the three. I've tried emailing him, I called his dad, I even mailed a letter to his house. Short of filing a missing person report, I just have to have faith. La cucaracha, indeed!

I am worried, but I'm not ripping myself to shreds over it. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I wanted inspiration for my writing; well this is all very gothic. When he returns, I'm going to tell him he needs to move closer to California if he wants to be exclusive. I don't value monogamy, but he does. And I was willing to make that sacrifice for him if I knew I could get what I needed from him. But until then I guess it's back to the hookup apps. If I can find anyone as willing to play my games as he was; most aren't.

Is he my soul mate? I don't know. I've kind of been in diet Patrick Bateman mode for a while, and while I think EVERYONE is phony with how they play house all the time, I kind of want that for myself; the trappings of success. I don't really believe in soul mates and maybe I don't even know what love is. But I know he's a good man, and he could use one more person being sweet to him.

[dedskul]

I haven't slept well in days. I feel like my body is giving out on me. I'm under so much stress and in so much pain. I'm waiting for the doctors and the hospitals and for my care team to make something happen but it's been almost a month now. The days are blending together and I can bearly recall conversations or realy information to people like I'm supposed to. I can bearly make it up out the bed and when I do bombarded with phone calls and emails of bad news and longer wait times. I could lose my job, my health insurance. I could be blind in one eye in another 2 months and my good eye is being affected now too. I have risky surgery's coming up and long recovery times. My care team is trying to get me into PHP and the hospital was supposed to call me today but they never did. I was really reluctant to go at first but now I really want to, anything to get me out of this hell.

My therapist left on maternity leave, but the covering therapist seems nice. She assured me that my old therapist would be back in about 12 weeks and would get in contact with me when she was close to coming back. I understood, but there are so many things that will happen within that time that I don't know if I'll still be her to come back too. I'll either be blind or dead by then so she can take her time it's not like she's missing much. I'd rather her remember me the way I was than whatever it is I'd become over the last few weeks. I haven't left my apartment at all, I've barely showered or brushed my teeth. I sit in the living room and stare at the wall, trying to remember what it was like to want to live. I'm not just sad because my therapist is gone for a little while, I'm not just sad cause Dr. almatten retired, I'm not just sad about losing my eyesight. I'm sad that there isn't any help this time. Even if my therapist were back and Dr. almatten wasn't retired, I'd still be dealing with all of this. Those 2 things just make it harder. I feel like I'm stuck in purgatory just waiting for SOMETHING. The doctors don't know why I'm starting to lose sight in my good eye, too. They can't seem to give me an answer for anything. The only good thing they did was hold me while I screamed and cried when they told me I was going blind in both. I don't know what to do, who to talk to, or how to move forward with anything. There are so many moving parts to everything that I can't keep it straight anymore. There are people listed as contacts for my disability case that I haven't even met. Whatever happens to me I hope it's peaceful and quiet. That's all I want.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Waaah!!! My bff is coming to visit me next weekend and I’m so excited!!!

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

I haven’t seen her since my birthday back in March when we went and did a Clue themed escape room.

She was originally gonna be in town for another reason that one got cancelled, but she’s still coming to see me and it means a lot! We only live about 2.5 hours apart, but it’s hard to find time to meet up. She’s always crazy busy, so I try to not to add to her overwhelm.

I’M SO EXCITED!!! Gonna take her to this killer coffee shop and maybe see if I can find some local karaoke.

Lol she said we could watch some of the movies we’ve been meaning to but let’s be real. We always end up talking nonstop when we’re together so the number of movies we’ll get through is…probably not many, haha.

Hoping to get to visit her later this year to maybe see Clue the Musical (sensing a theme?). And to see her sweet little baby kitty who almost tolerates me!!!

It’d be nice to revisit the area too. I’ve only been living back in my hometown for a year now, after living there for a decade. I prefer that area but wanted to move closer to home for a variety of reasons. It’s tough sometimes. Putting down new roots is hard. Especially for a veritable hermit like me who abhors change in any form.

That also reminds me I’m gonna have to travel for work in June and I don’t wanna.

(;﹏;) It’ll be fine. It’s just for a few days, but I’m exhausted just thinking about it. Gonna have to fly there on a Monday morning and won’t be back home until late Wednesday. It is gonna be wildly busy too. It’s the first time our all remote team will be meeting in person with just our team. I’ve only seen them all in person once before when we had Summit in NOLA last year, but that included our entire business unit.

We were told we’ll probably do Summit with the whole business unit every two years, so that’ll be coming up again next year too.

I just find it wildly exhausting to have to be “on” for other people. Haven’t figured out if it’s an ADHD masking thing or not. Just constantly in my own head like “make eye contact, stop fidgeting, pre-plan topics of conversation, make sure you look interested and engaged, what can you contribute to this conversation” etc. Then retreating to my hotel room to lick my “being social” wounds and inevitably being a shell of a human for 1-2 days after I get back home.

Now that I have the privilege to work from home and have since March 2020, my social battery is almost nonexistent. I’m also hyperaware of how I am around other people, likely because I’m physically around other people so rarely. Partly by choice and partly because of lacking said social battery.

I’m also constantly talking to other people at work, even though I’m remote. Email, Slack, phone, WebEx. My job is super demanding which is good because it keeps me engaged but bad because it tends to wipe me out. I’m much happier than I was when I was stuck in sales *shudders* but when I’m working now, I need to be as close to 100% attention as possible. My executive function is always in shambles by the end of the day.

Hopefully work easing up over the next few months will help.

While I’m a fast worker, having to maintain ALL of my focus for hours at a time is so fucking hard. But the alternative is being fucking miserable at work. And we all know how much our lives in the US revolve around our work!

Gonna be working with my therapist too on better handling demands like this. I am desperate for a routine but when so much of my executive function is devoted to my job, it’s nigh impossible for me to dole it out elsewhere.

And also being more ~self-compassionate~.

(；¬＿¬)

Why is self-compassion so hard???

Because you have OCD and ADHD, you ninny. And you live in a capitalistic hellscape.

[cricketwrangler]

Logan and I both did some cleaning and catching up with house stuff yesterday, and today did phone calls and messaging type "administrative" work. Part of me is like ok but you're not CAUGHT UP. but trying to say fuck that, we're a lot closer.

Caught up on laundry including washing all sheets and blankets so we have backup. Did dishes and there's a few in the sink I need to load but nothing gross or overwhelming. Have kept up with cat litter more frequently than usual, I wish they weren't so goddamn messy that I have to sweep the laundry room 2+ times a day if I want to walk in there without getting my feet or socks embedded with litter.

Logan got a lot of strewn about things organized in containers and cleared off our table a lot and found things we've been missing, I cleared off some crowded spots on the floor and swept most of the house over the day (it's hard to do regularly between a shit battery and the sound can be a trigger for logan).

Called HR to go over his leave approval for work and make sure the documentation was good, called the company doing his long term disability for an update (they closed his case and should have opened it back up before now, but seems like they have what they need and we're just waiting for the next update?). And called the dme place about his bipap cause they didn't call us like they said they would, and they're ordering stuff for it. And I messaged his doctors about refills and ordering bloodwork he needs.

Still need to follow up with all these things but can only wait for now. Got to email someone to see if we need to redo his medicaid waiver for the new year, and redo the medicaid stuff (he got denied bc we got the letter requesting documentation the same day it was due lol. And if things aren't all finished in 30 days from when you first applied, despite all the waiting for shit, you get auto denied). Going to be confusing income wise cause he's had nothing for a few months until he got an end of year bonus. But if his LTD goes through, then it ought to backpay. But that would mean showing a much larger income than he'll regularly recieve so that'll complicate things. Have to call about MY medicaid shit. And call a neurosurgeon in cinncinnati to try and set up an appointment, but need to get imaging sent to them to review, bc his doctor only sent the reports which didn't note anything.

And have an appointment for an important test we were late for last time, at 7 30am tomorrow. Over an hour drive away. We ought to leave tonight to stay at my parents (I have an appointment up there Thursday so we'll be staying over anyway). But forgot until recently and it may or may not happen.

Found a good fb marketplace deal for Wall mounted shelving with a pull down desk, literally something we've been looking for exactly, for only 45 dollars. Almost 2 hours away from us but only 1 hour from my parents, and 20 minutes from wolf park lol. Just hoping he feels decent enough to do all the stuff. He's been having awful episodes of pretty much stopping breathing. Managed to keep from getting bad yesterday and so far today. The testing should explain it but if it doesn't I know he'll be really upset and scared, bc can't treat it if you don't know what it is. Also sees a new recommended neuro next week, so

Anyway at least now we've done enough that things are moving again. Hate waiting but also hate being at a standstill until capable of handling things.

[hlmowrer]

Week 33: Welcome to North Muskegon

Author's note: This letter was written two weeks ago, on the 11th.  I can write, but not send, these letters with my phone.  I have not had access to a computer on a Monday since then.  Sorry.  I'm trying to get caught up, but since this letter was already written I'm sending it first.

Good morning dear friends!  What a week...I think we'll go with the day-by-day approach just so I don't forget things.

Monday-Tuesday: Packing and goodbyes...I didn't get to say goodbye to absolutely everyone I wanted to but I was able to visit a few key people and I (somehow) managed to cram my stuff into my suitcases.  It took several hours of effort, but I did it.

Wednesday: Travel day!  I drove down to Mt. Pleasant (2 hours) to meet the transfer van (There's a van and trailer that travels to stops all over Michigan on transfer day) and had a great time seeing all the other missionaries there.  I set off in the van, thinking I was off to Grand Rapids.  About 20 minutes in I asked the assistant who was driving the van why he didn't take a certain freeway towards Grand Rapids...and was informed that we were in fact going to Lansing.

Another hour of travel later I found myself at mission headquarters.  I was okay with that though, as there were yet more missionaries that I hadn't seen in a long time.  And cookies, too!  There I was given a new car (well...new-old car.  She's a bit broken...) and was asked to ferry it and another missionary to Grand Rapids.  With another hour drive under my belt I arrived in Grand Rapids...only to discover that the trailer had already unloaded what they *thought* was all my stuff.  They neglected to realize that I also had a bag of food.  

We're going to pause for an explanation here.

I'm opening a second area in a ward that already has missionaries.  I'm ALSO moving into a house that has never had missionaries in it before, as the previous apartment in the area had been burned down by an oil fire.  (Yes really) I knew there would be no food, so I packed food.  I really needed that dang food! 

*sigh*  Anyway...

I make it to Grand Rapids, see more people I haven't seen in a long time, and meet my new companion, Elder Walker.  We then finally set off for Muskegon.  I had learned already that what I said in my last email wasn't quite right.  My area is North Muskegon, which is a completely different town than Muskegon.  Our boundary only includes the northernmost blocks of the city of Muskegon.  So when we arrived at the house we were moving into, I was confused to find out that it was at the SOUTHERN end of Muskegon.

Yeah, I don't even live in my ward or area.

We just commute in, apparently.

*sigh x2*

But that's all okay, because as soon as I arrived I found out why this area is so highly praised...we were immediately invited over by a member of the bishopric (an assistant to the leader of a congregation) who fed us dinner and provided us with a clear and very full list of people the bishop wanted us to visit and minister to, as well as a long list of people who could help.  (I had been trying to get the branch in Kalkaska to produce such a list for MONTHS.)  We then were invited out to ice cream with a new member named Cole.  Cole has only been a member of the church for about a year and he's already one of the most passionate missionaries I've ever met.  We had a great evening getting to know him, and he invited to show us around and introduce us to members the next day, since we didn't have access to any records yet.

Thursday & Friday: The Cole days

I already knew Cole was awesome, but this massively proved it.  For two whole days, he composed a list of members he thought we should meet, set up appointments, drove us to said appointments, and fed us two meals a day.  This man is such a homie, and his help allowed us to visit some people who really seemed to need it during a time when I expected to accomplish very little, as we still weren't in any records.  It did a lot of good for my self esteem to be able to impact people in a positive way like we did, and I now have relationships that would usually take at least weeks to cultivate after a transfer.

Saturday:  This day was a little slower, but we finally got access to member records so we were able to start working on our own (Cole was busy working with the other Elders) We visited a few key people and that caused us to run into other people that have given us all kinds of good ideas for how to proceed.  It was more of a struggle to stay productive but we sure did have some victories.

Sunday: This day started a bit rough...apparently four dudes trying to take a shower before Church without any organization isn't a good idea.  We were a bit late but we got there eventually and it was another great experience with a great ward.  It's not a big ward but there's a ton of especially amazing people, and they're excited we're here.  After Church we were struggling to think of something to do...when another figure of my past texted completely out of the blue and said he was in Grand Rapids, and wanted to come visit.  It's absolutely uncanny how I keep running into random people I know right when I need it most.  We went to a nearby park to chat with him, and knocked the street near the park for good measure...finding a new friend to teach in the process.

It has been both the most fun and the most progress I've had in a week in QUITE a while.

The Lord is in charge here.  I'm so grateful for being sent here, and I know this is yet again exactly the right environment for me to proceed.  It's not perfect and neither am I, but it's better.  It's growth.

And I can live with that for now.  :)

As always there's so much more I'd like to say, but I've already written an essay so I need to leave it there.

Sure love you, dear friends <3

-Elder Beren Mowrer

[shhhhhiminsidesaitamascloset]

tw: SA

Im not sure how long i had this blog in general. Maybe in late May??? Probably June.

But im just reflecting on things. Losing my old tumblr blog and emails before being hospitalized and sent to a facility. Then coming back making new emails and having to start over.

You'd think something like this would devastate me. But months earlier my house caught on fire and i lost all my sketches and artwork. I lost memorable items, manga collections i had since high school.

It was all gone. So some d*** hacking my phone and making me lose access to my emails and logins was the least of my problems. But when i went through living with someone who wanted to do s*xual things to me, being coerced while i was in psychosis and being assaulted.

I felt lost. Luckily when i was hospitalized i found God again. So i was working on getting back on the straight and narrow after i thought i was being spiritually attacked and realizing someone put a curse on me. (I think i know what happened but its another story for another day) And the psychosis took time to wear off.

In the meantime i managed to make a tumblr account again and start over. And i think its probably been about 2 or 3 months (getting out of that psychosis fog finally thank God!) And im not as patient and docile as i was before during the bits i was in psychosis. But im trying my best to stay close to God and Jesus and lead/live by example.

I feel like there's a lot i can thank God for and even if its just my psychosis i truly believe i am God's servant and soldier. I've been through so much and i had been so tough through it. It was scary, but braving it through and being patient taught me how to go about my life. It also taught me the importance of faith and my priorities.

I also realize that i can be really sh**ty to people i dont know online. But we can only blame negative and toxic internet culture for that. So i started vowing that i'll try to treat people the way i wanted to be treated online. Even if we are 'enemies' i'll still be nice and kind and give you advice on being a better person.

I wanna be the light for people online. Even if im posting dumb f/o and fandom related stuff. I wanna be that person where people see my icon and say "Theyre not perfect but they really try their best to be positive"

Like i said before i dont expect everyone to like me. I shouldnt care what others think of me either. But if someone says im toxic and i dont try, i'll tell them they are a liar. Because even before i got on here again i have been trying my best since the accident. I've slipped, fell, made lots of mistakes and had a hard time staying holy and righteous on my spiritual journey.

But anybody who judges me dont know what i went through. Dont know why i am the way i am. Dont know that im constantly improving me. With God and Jesus in my life, i may not know it all but i understand things a lot more than i did before. And im appreciative of Yahweh than i have ever been.

I know all of this is temporary anyway. Though i am appreciative of what i have now. Im not too keen on who we stay with for the moment, but im thankful i got a place to stay until we move. There's a lot to be grateful for now. And even though she drives me nuts, im grateful to have my mom.

These past few months in 2023 have been crazy. And i dont know how long i'll have this blog and side blogs. But im grateful it made it this far. And who knew i'd like Saitama from One Punch Man 🤷‍♀️ ?

But the fact i jumped from Enrico Pucci, to Joseph Joestar, to Saitama so quick worries it wont last. But i might have to force this hyperfixation somehow.

Anyway, I hope i didnt bore you too much. And i know most people on tumblr dont take time to read things. But i'd say: Count your blessings, be grateful for even the smallest things, appreciate your friends online and irl, and dont take things for granted

ty y'all have a good day, God bless, and drink plenty of water✩

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Booklist on "Red Team Blues"

I've published more than 20 books, and I still get nervous in the few months leading up to a new book's release. It's one thing for my agent, my editor and my wife to like one of my novels - but what about the rest of the world? Will the book soar, or bomb? I've had books do both, and the latter is No Fun. Scarifying, even.

My next novel is Red Team Blues, which Tor Books and Head of Zeus will publish on April 25. It is a significant departure for me in many ways: it's a heist novel about cryptocurrency, grifters and crime bosses, the first book in a trilogy that runs in reverse chronological order (!):

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The hero of RTB is Marty Hench, a forensic accountant and digital pioneer. Marty got his start when he discovered spreadsheets as an MIT undergrad. He got so deep into the world of Visicalc and Lotus 1-2-3 that he dropped out of university, moved to Silicon Valley, and pitted his ability to find money with spreadsheets against people who use spreadsheets to hide money.

RTB opens with Marty on the verge of retirement, when he is roped in for one last job - a favor to a friend who has built a new cryptocurrency that is in danger of imploding thanks to some stolen keys. If Marty can recover the keys, his customary 25% commission will come out to more than a quarter of a billion dollars. How could he say no?

I wrote this book in a white-hot fury of the sort that I underwent in 2006, when I wrote Little Brother in eight weeks flat. Red Team Blues took six weeks. It's good. I sent it to my Patrick Nielsen Hayden, my editor. The next day, I got this email:

That.

Was.

A! Fucking! Ride! Whoa!

That night, I rolled over in bed to find my wife wide awake at 2AM, staring at her phone. "What are you doing?" I asked. "Finishing your book," she said. "I had to find out how it ended."

I loved writing this book, and after I finished it, I found that Marty Hench was still living in my mind. How could I keep writing about him, though? Red Team Blues is his final adventure. Then, one day, it hit me: now that I knew how Marty's career ended, I could write about how it started.

I could write prequels - as many as I chose - retelling the storied career of Martin Hench, the scambusting forensic accountant of Silicon Valley. I pitched my editor on two prequels - one a midcareer adventure, the other his origin story - and my editor bought 'em. For the first time in decades, in dozens of books, I'm writing a trilogy.

It's nearly done. I finished the second book, "The Bezzle" - about private prisons and financial corruption - late last year. I'm 80%+ through the final one, "Picks and Shovels," AKA Marty's origin story, a caper involving an early eighties PC-selling pyramid scheme run by a Mormon bishop, a Catholic priest and an orthodox rabbi, who run their affinity scam through a company called "Three Wise Men Computers."

But for all that I love these books, love writing these books, I am still nervous. Butterflies-in-stomach. I got some reassurance in December, when the New Yorker's Chris Byrd said some extraordinarily kind things about RTB when he profiled me:

https://www.newyorker.com/culture/the-new-yorker-interview/cory-doctorow-wants-you-to-know-what-computers-can-and-cant-do

Despite that, though, I continued to have vicious pangs of self-doubt, imposter syndrome, superstitious dread, haunting memories of the mentors and writers I admired as a young man whose careers were snatched away by changing industry trends, market shifts, or just a bad beat. I love this book. Would other people? I'm not a crime writer. Ugh.

Then, this week, my publicist Laura Etzkorn at Tor sent me the first trade review for RTB, Booklist's starred notice, by David Pitt:

Well, talk about timely. In the wake of the late-2022 collapse of cryptocurrency comes this novel about a forensic accountant who’s hired to work a case involving electronic theft of cryptocurrency. The guy’s name is Martin Hench; he’s in his late sixties, with decades of experience, and he thinks he’s seen it all. Until now. Doctorow, author of such novels as The Rapture of the Nerds (2012) Homeland (2013), and Pirate Cinema (2012), is a leading force in cyberpunk fiction, and here he mixes cyberpunk with traditional private eye motifs (if Martin Hench feels a bit like Philip Marlowe or even Jim Rockford, that’s probably not a coincidence).

Doctorow's novels are always feasts for the imagination and the intellect, and this one is no exception: it’s jam-packed with cutting-edge ideas about cybersecurity and crypto, and its near-future world is lovingly detailed and completely believable. Another winner from an sf wizard who has always proved himself adept at blending genres for both adults and teens.

To quote a certain editor of my acquaintance:

That.

Was.

A! Fucking! Ride!

Whoa!

Maybe this writing thing is gonna work out after all.

ETA: Well, this is pretty great. Shortly after I hit publish on this, Library Journal published its review of Red Team Blues, by Andrea Dyba:

Cyber detective, forensic accountant—whatever his title, 67-year-old Marty Hench is one of those rare people who tries to prevent financial crimes. He’s spent his whole career as a member of the Red Team, as an attacker, one who always has the advantage. Now ready for retirement, he’s living it up in California and trying to decide what he wants to do when he grows up when he’s hired by an old friend. Danny Lazer, the founder of the new crypto titan Trustlesscoin, needs Marty to recover stolen cryptographic keys and prevent the type of financial crisis that people lose their lives over. Marty delves into the shady underside of the private equity world, where he’s caught between warring international crime syndicates. The sincere and intelligent writing has a noir feel to it, enhanced by Marty’s dry humor. There’s a sense of satisfaction as this unassuming retired man dishes out comeuppance.

VERDICT  This absorbing and ruthless cyberpunk thriller from Doctorow (Attack Surface) tackles modern concerns involving cryptocurrency, security, and the daunting omnipotence of technology. Great for fans of Charles Stross.              

https://www.libraryjournal.com/review/red-team-blues-1794647

[Image ID: Will Stahle's cover for the Tor Books edition of 'Red Team Blues.']