#just like once and in that case he changed his mind after 24 hours

[crescenthistory]

hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

[igotanidea]

Not your fucking bussiness: Jason Todd x reader (club singer AU!)

***

„Where are you going?”

„Not your fucking business.”

„Oh! You are going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“Who?”

“Come on, Jay, don’t play dumb with me. You are going to see her!”

“And like I said it’s not your fucking business. Mind your own, Harper.”

This discussion was way beyond his level, therefore Jason just grabbed his jacket off the hanger and walked out the door.

“He is so going to go see her.” Roy crossed his arms, watching his friend leaving with a knowing smirk, nodding his head.

His little Jaybird was growing up so fast…

Two months earlier

They were tired beyond anything ever experienced before. Tired, stressed, barely walking more like dragging their feet on the ground, wanting nothing more but a shower and a bed. But – there’s always this kid in class who will ask the teacher for homework just before the end of the lesson. Or – in this case – the one Outlaw member who comes up with the idea of unwinding in the bar. 

“Come on, let’s grab some drinks, it’s been ages since we got wasted.” Roy insisted, clearly not bothered by the frowns and groans of the rest of the group.

“There’s a reason for that, Roy.” Artemis sighed, rubbing her temples “we’re too busy to-“

“We’re so busy we’re actually becoming boring.” Harper cut her off almost brutally.

“Hey! Who are you calling boring?!” The Amazon took a few steps towards the man with a fierce expression.

“When was the last time you looked in the mirror, Arti?”

“When I;m done with you I’ll—“

“Ok, okay, enough!” Kori stepped in between the two fighting friends before things escalated further “we’ve all had enough, there’s no need to add to it.”

“He’s such a jerk though!” Artemis hissed

“Yeah, sure. He and Jason both.”

“Hey!” This time Jason felt the need to intervene and object to the allegation.

“The only guy who’s actually nice in this group is Bizzaro-“ Kori continued, completely unbothered by Jason’s exclamation. 

“I’m bad.” Bizzaro grinned, clearly satisfied by the words coming from the Tamaranian.

“Yes, yes you are, big guy. So. I don’t know about you, Artemis, but I’d actually like to have a little bit of fun for a change. I think we deserve it.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Jason exclaimed, clenching his fists. Seriously? Were those guys functioning in the same reality as him?!  Gotham was in constant danger, crime lords and criminals lurking in every corner and the Outlaws just decided to grab a drink and unwind?! The hell happened to his team?! They had so much on their heads and now – for some crazy reason – it felt like everyone was agreeing with everyone leaving his opinion as a leader of the team on the sideline.

And he did not like it.

“We are not going anywhere.” He hissed as if that was going to stop anyone.

“we are.” Roy grinned and Jason could sense the mischief in his eyes.

“we are—fuck! Put me down!”

Anyone who dared to look outside their window on that night would have been shocked to notice the infamous Outlaws casually walking the Gotham street with a very angered Red Hood being carried in the iron grip of Bizzarro, kicking and screaming like a five year old kid, very unhappy about such humiliation.

***

Obviously they could not just walk into the bar, dressed like their vigilantes self so the first stop was the nearest safe house, dealing with the quickest ever outfit change, patching up the most serious cuts and bruises. Only after dealing with all that, not even caring about looking presentable, the group walked down to finally grab the drink.

A plan that seemed to drag on forever.

Deep inside, Jason was hoping for a quiet night, praying that at this crazy night hour there wouldn’t be many people in that 24/7 club and he would be able to just snug in the dark corner sipping his drink and checking the surroundings for the possible threats.

And for once it seemed like his prayers were listened to.

As they entered the deserted place, eyes of the already drunk regulars landed on them, but one warning look from Jason made them stop wanting to cause any trouble.

“Oh!” Roy gasped, a little disappointed. “I was hoping that she would be here.”

“She?” Jason frowned

“You mean Y/N?” Kori smiled, “I think it’s past her shift.”

“It’s a shame though.” Artemis added “it’s been too long since we saw her-“

“We?” the frown on Jason’s face deepened. Suddenly he felt terribly left out. Who was this Y/N his friend was so clearly enamored with? And why did it feel like they were coming to see her without him?

As if adding fuel to the fire of his thoughts Bizzaro nodded.

“We no see her often.”

“Oh, right…” It seemed like his friends were leaving him behind and it hurt, but Jason would never admit it out loud, quickly covering his fears with a signature smirk and sarcastic attitude “Guess you’ll have to survive without whoever this girl is. I’ll go grab drinks, regular for you, folks?”

***

He already had enough, heading to the bar and ordering himself a beer, wondering if it would be rude to just take an Irish exit. His group, his friends just dispersed in the facility and to be honest, Jason has never felt more lonely. Sometimes it felt like this family he made for himself was just waiting for the moment to move on with their lives and leave him alone again. And the more he sipped his beverage, the more he worried that things would go back to the way they were. That he’d fall behind those people, who clearly had a way of finding their place in the society. Maybe they were only waiting for an opportunity to lose him.

And ironically, that thought made him want to hold on to his friends even tighter. Preventing him from leaving the club.

Jason shifted on his seat, turning towards the both his friends were occupying, his eyes scanning the place. The Outlaws might have shed the skin of the vigilantes turning into the normal humans, losing their usual vigilance, but he was not going to. If no one else, he was going to make sure those people he held dear (though if anyone asked, there would be very explicit denial and a fair amount of mean jokes on that) were safe.

For a time being, everything seemed secure, but it was Gotham after all. Things could change in a blink of an eye.

And Jason Todd was not known for letting his guard down easily.

Never.

He was always on the watch, careful, a little stand-offish.

And clearly he was right cause all of a sudden he heard the commotion coming from the side of the little club scene. His ears perked at the sound of man’s and woman’s voices, quickly catching up on the fact that he was trying to convince her to do something and she was objecting, though he could not figure out what they were talking about.

“Come on, Y/N- just this once. Just one more-“

“No way! I think I’ve had enough for one night!”

“Please… for me?”

“You want me to get a sore throat? I think I’ve already been taking in more than I can.”

Oh wow.

Jason blushed a little, wondering if maybe that was the time to stop listening to the conversation. 

“Please, Y/N, come on… there are still people here and they’d love a performance…”

Okay.

Now was clearly the time to stop listening to the conversation.

And possibly to leave the place, cause it seemed like his friends just dragged him into a den that was way beyond his comfort zone.

He sighed deeply and joined his friends in the booth ready to force some reason in their heads.

“Okay, people listen up, as a leader of this team-“ he started, meeting with facial expressions ranging from amusement (Artemis) through disbelief (Bizarro) and leniency (Kori) to the open mockery (Roy).

“Not tonight, Jason.”

“Okay, you know what, by all means you stay and have fun but I’m leaving and—” he started again, hoping that his so-called friends would ask him to stay and fight a little.

“Hey, is that Y/N?” Instead, everyone’s heads snapped to the direction of the stage and then a bright smile showed on their faces as they clearly noticed a girl who was far more entertaining than Jason at the moment.

“Y/N! Hi!” Kori waved her hand at the girl “would you give us one?”

For the first time in a long, long time, Jason felt defeated, slumping onto the seat, sipping his drink, not even caring to look into the direction of the stage. He didn’t care.

“Hey Jaybird, look up or you might miss something nice to your sore eyes.”

Huh.

The hell?

Oh…

Oh shit…

Why was his heart picking up the pace and beating out of his chest?

 “Yep, that’s her. And you’re blushing.” Roy chuckled and sipped his drink.

To be completely honest, Jason did not even hear whatever words were coming out of Roy's mouth. She stole all his attention. Making his mind go blank and his ear deaf and his eyes focused only on her. But even in his hazy state he managed to connect the dots, figuring out that the girl he overheard talking was the one his friends were referring to. So maybe they knew her? Was there any chance that they could acquaint him with her? But—this was the girl talking about taking things in and sore throat so what exactly was her job here? Was she a-

No.

No, no, no.

She looked so beautiful, innocent and sympathetic. Alluring but not in the way that would cause any suspicions about her profession. Not that the profession itself was something bad, but this was definitely not Y/N.

Shit, he was blushing hard and knew it, cause the heat he felt was enough of an indication.

“Jason?”

“Hey, Todd, come back to earth.”

“I think he just short circuited!”

The mocking and teasing voices of his friends finally reached his ears, shaking him off his reverie.

“Oh, shut up…” he muttered, trying to control his pounding heart and shaking hands.

“You know I’ve never really seen you like that. Ever.”

“Shut up, Harper.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will. The fact that you are being so affected makes it all even funnier.”

“Come on, Roy. Give poor Jason a break.” Kori laughed. “Our fella here seems to be falling and he hasn't even heard her sing yet.”

“Sing?” Jason raised his head, trying to process the new information and fit it into the puzzle.

“Yeah, sing. She’s a singer here. Wait – what did you think she was doing?”

“Nothing…” he hissed, looking down, not liking the fact he was the source of entertainment and a subject of jokes of his friends.

“Me don’t have an idea” Bizzaro smiled brightly and stood up from behind the table, almost knocking all the drinks down. “Me not going to ask her to sing.”

Before anyone could stop him (not that anyone actually tried) Bizzaro trotted to the scene exchanging a few words with Y/N, pointing at Jason, who wished he had his helmet on to hide himself. No one in their sound mind would point a finger at him when in his Red hood suit. But at the moment he was just a regular guy, unable to fight his real, a little shy and too sensitive nature showing. And also trying his best to not look in her direction.

Due to his hiding state, he missed Y/N lightening up, nodding at Bizzaro, saying something with a cheerful nod and climbing up the scene, fixing her microphone.

“Uh-huh. Looks like she’s about to sing after all. Bizzaro definitely has a talent for convincing people. And Y/n seems to like our little Superman -clone.” Artemis teased, playing on the strings of Jason shaking heart.

He wanted so bad to tell her something harsh and mean, but the melody and quickly following voice made it impossible.

His head snapped towards the scene, watching her.

Definitely in her element.

Shining like a star (no offense to Starfire), feeling the song, putting emotions into the words that otherwise would sound empty and without meaning. But sung by her? Somehow, Jason found himself in a completely different reality, where threats and strategic thinking had like zero meaning. All that mattered was watching her every move. And oh- how much he wanted to just stand up and walk to the stage, seeing her from the close up, instead of being forced to keep his distance, sitting in the booth. (though to be completely honest, even if he tried to walk his shaking legs would probably give up under him).

He was in trouble.

And his friends knew it too.

***

He needed to see her again.

And again and again and again.

Needed to meet her, to get to know her beyond that stage.

He wanted to be able to see her walking on the stage and think that this was his girl being a star.

To assure that whatever men were cheering for her by the stage, offering her drinks and sending her flowers she would only have eyes for him.

Those pretty e/c eyes that crossed with him that fateful night when Outlaws dragged him to the club.

He hated and loved them at the same time.

Because now he turned into a putty and was on his best way to become an alcoholic, using having drinks as an excuse to see her over and over and over. Cursing himself for not having enough guts to just talk to her, settling on watching her from the back of the club like a creep, probably scaring her off.

He had no chance with someone like her.

Not with his scars and baggage and stuff. And his other life. No way. This would only bring her trouble and danger and it was safer to stay in the shadows letting her shine.

But the more he attended her performances – be it on the previously arranged club shows or the quiet nights when she was singing only to the few half-drunk regulars and just for the fun of it – his heart ached for more.

“Where are you going, Jason?”

“Let me guess you are going to the club again?”

“Seems to me like you’re turning into a real party animal.”

‘You don’t like Y/N.”  

Teasing remarks were haunting him for the last two months and at some point Jason decided it was taking too much energy to keep pretending. Every time he was leaving somewhere Roy, Kori, Artemis and Bizzaro seemed to know.

So instead of explaining himself or telling them to leave him alone, he was just grabbing his jacket and leaving without any word. Making sure to only come back when everyone was asleep so he could lay in his bed in the silence and dream.

Dream of holding her hand, of holding her, of forming a real, genuine connection.

But it was just that. A dream. Some crazy fantasy that would never come true for him, no matter how much he was praying for it.

***

“Hi.”

She was standing next to him, extending her hand, and for a second he couldn’t comprehend what she wanted him to do with the fact.

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He only managed to stutter.

“Oh I know you know. You’ve been coming here for the last two months, night by night. One would think you’d learn my name by now.”

“Yeah… um…”

“I’d like to learn your name though. Cause I for sure know you are friends with Biz, but not much more than that.”

“My – my name?”

“Yeah, you know, the title you’re being called on a daily basis?” she chuckled and her laugh sounded equally beautiful as her singing. “Wait, no, let me guess – is it Thomas? Or maybe Todd?”

Jason laughed despite himself.

“What? Did I guess?”

“Not the first name. Todd is actually my second name. Jason is first.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” She reached for his hand herself and in any other case he would just avoid physical contact at any cost. But it was different with her.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

He wanted to say so many things to her. How he liked her singing and how she made his nights magical and how pretty she was and all that mushy, touchy-feely stuff that she probably heard a million times before. Words however never came easy to him, instead sticking to his throat causing him to grunt awkwardly, mentally slapping himself for letting the silence prolong. He could almost feel her slipping from his grasp and losing the one in a million chance.

“Would you like to grab a very early breakfast with me?” he blurted, not really believing what the hell just came out of his mouth, already preparing himself for a hard no. 

“Yes! Thank god!” she looked towards the sky, putting her hands together as if to prayer. She was funny and he already liked it. “Finally someone smart enough to realize that after spending the entire day and half of the night in the bar, I’m not prone to having drinks. I’d love to grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“A girl with an appetite?” Jason teased, feeling his heart flutter, the tension melting away.

“Yeah, I know, it looks bad, but sorry not sorry, I won’t be eating salad just to pretend to be someone I’m not. How about we grab burgers?”

It seemed like Jason was on the highway to falling in love.

***

The little diner was completely empty, giving them a perfect opportunity to talk and joke and tease and banter and bicker without hushing or judgment.

It turned out that they had a similar sense of humor and fairly similar interests.

Exchanging thoughts on books and their adaptations, talking about dreams and wishes and reflecting on deep stuff has never been this nice to Jason. It felt like he knew this girl for years, finding a kindred spirit in this h/c firecracker.

So only when the first rays of sunshine showed on the horizon and they were practically kicked out of the place, they left their seats going out being hit with the cold morning air. And when she shivered from the chill Jason did the unthinkable, reaching to pull her to his side and running hand up and down her spine to warm her.

And damn, it worked for both of them.

And damn she did not pull back.

And damn when he walked her home, to the door, and they just stood there for what seemed like eternity, like two awkward teenagers not sure what to do with the newfound, deep-level connection.

“So-“

“So-“

“You first.”

“No, no, please, you go first.”

“Um… Can I see you again?”

“Sure! I mean – “ she collected herself quickly “I hope you’ll come to my next performance.”

“Of course, but I was thinking that – um… maybe we can grab early breakfast again? Or – very late dinner, depending on the end of your work?”

“Very late dinner sounds nice…” she smiled at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

“Really!?”

“Yeah… I mean, I told you I always get hungry after a performance. So dinner always sounds nice and – and a nice company would be an added value…”

“So I’m an added value, Y/N?” he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the slight trembling of his voice due to the emotions.

“I did not say it!” she leaned to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin for a little longer than necessary. “Now go, before I call the police because I got a strange man harassing me in front of my house!”

***

He sneaked into the house, stepping on his tiptoes to avoid waking up any other member of the team.

Laying head on the soft pillow, ready to start dreaming again, but this time a little more reality-based fantasy –

“Hey Jason, where have you been?” Roy grinned peeking through the door.

“None of your fucking business” Jason grinned back, happier than ever.

***

my dear @ladychibirae! - thank you for this requests, I really hope you like it, cause I sure enjoyed writing it. I just sat down and before I realised, there was a 10 pages story in my docs. honestly, it's been a while since I wrote something so long <3

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things: It Wasn't A Mistake (Nameless, Faceless)

Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: Murder. Blood. Death. Weapons. Canon typical violence. Everything that makes Criminal Minds, Criminal Minds. The Purest Things Masterlist

au! may 2009

Bookend: "Heroes always have their scars. Some you can see, some you read about later on." - George Foreman

A month has passed since your return to the BAU, and everything feels… different. It's not just the challenge of easing back into the work or learning to live with a healing injury. It's Hotch. He's changed.

While your relationships with the rest of the team have slipped back into their familiar rhythm, your dynamic with him is far from what it once was. He's distant, his demeanor toward you almost uncomfortably stern.

The others have noticed it, too—throwing you questioning glances whenever he cuts a conversation short or keeps interactions strictly professional. But every time you try to confront him, he finds a way to avoid you—burying himself in paperwork, excusing himself for a meeting, or simply walking away. It's as though the bridge between you has been burned, and you're left staring at the ashes, wondering why.

Less than 24 hours after your most recent case in Canada, you're abruptly woken by a phone call from JJ.

"This one's urgent. I'll send you the address," she says as you rush out of bed to get dressed.

You groan. You haven't even had a chance to de-thaw from the iciness that is Hotch now. All you can do is hope that something about his treatment this time is different.

You arrive at the crime scene and follow the team inside. One person is notably missing. It's hard to concentrate without his presence.

"Where's Hotch?" you ask, scanning the room.

"Not sure," JJ says, already pulling out her phone. "I tried his cell, but he didn't answer."

"Try him again," Rossi instructs. "Leave a voicemail—tell him to meet us at the next address."

JJ calls again, but there's still no answer. A nagging unease settles deep in your gut—this isn't like him.

You turn to Emily. "Do you think I'm needed here right now?"

She furrows her brows. "What do you mean?"

You sigh, lowering your voice. "Hotch being MIA isn't sitting right with me. If you think I can slip away, I want to check on him—just for peace of mind."

Emily studies you for a moment before nodding. "You're a good woman." She squeezes your arm in reassurance. "Go. I'll cover for you."

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

Arriving at his apartment, you scan the halls for his apartment number. He's been to your house so many times now, yet you've never been to his. He gave you his address after you were attacked, in case you ever needed a safe house. Little does he know that wherever he is, is where you feel the safest.

You knock, but there's no response.

"Hotch… Aaron, it's me. Answer the door."

Silence.

You dial his number, praying he picks up. But then, you hear it—his phone ringing from inside the apartment. Your pulse pounds in your ears, blocking out every other sound. Instinctively, your hand moves to your gun.

Hesitantly, you reach for the doorknob. It turns easily.

The door swings open, and you step inside, gun raised, sweeping the space for any sign of movement.

The apartment is eerily still. No sign of Hotch. No sign of life.

You move around the couch—and that's when you see it.

A large pool of blood.

Terror tightens around your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs, but you push forward, clearing the apartment. In the kitchen, shattered glass litters the floor. On the table, Hotch's gun and some scattered files. Beneath the table—his phone.

Your hands tremble as you dial Garcia.

"Hello, babycakes, how can I make your wildest dreams come true?"

"Pen, something's happened to Hotch." Your voice shakes despite your best efforts to keep it steady. "I need police and FBI techs here immediately. Maybe even an APB."

"What happened?" Fear creeps into her voice.

"I don't know. But there's blood. I don't know whose. His car is still out front, but he's gone."

"Okay," she says, inhaling deeply. "You just stay strong, my love. I'm sure he's fine…"

Her words are meant to comfort you, but they don't. Not really.

"Don't tell the rest of the team yet," you say. "They need to focus."

She hesitates, then agrees.

You end the call, steadying yourself with a breath. Your gaze drifts across the apartment, carefully avoiding the bullet hole in the wall. You can't let yourself dwell on what that means—not yet.

This is where he lives, where he rests his head at night, where he tries to find peace, if such a thing is even possible for him. You step toward his bedroom. It's pristine, of course. Not a wrinkle on the bed sheets, not a pillow out of place.Everything is meticulously arranged, controlled. Just like him.

For a moment, your mind drifts. You wonder what it would be like to—

A knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. Police officers and FBI agents begin to flood the apartment, their presence swallowing the space. You watch in silence as they take over, searching every inch of the apartment.

Buzz.

You glance down at your phone. It's Penelope.

"Talk to me, Garcia," you say, trying not to let your hopes rise too much.

"I called hospitals to see if Hotch had checked himself into any emergency rooms," she begins, her voice tight with urgency. "He's not listed anywhere, but someone dropped a John Doe off at St. Sebastian Hospital, and that someone was FBI agent Derek Morgan."

"That doesn't make sense," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips.

"Do you think someone got the credentials mixed up?" Garcia asks.

You scour your brain, desperate for any hint of logic. If Aaron were here, he'd have drawn the answer out of you already. Then, it hits you.

"Oh my god, The Reaper," you murmur, the realization crashing over you. "Typically, The Reaper takes something from his victims. Nothing of mine was missing when I was attacked because Morgan tried to stop him, and he wasn't able to finish his routine on me. Afterward, Derek realized he didn't have his credentials. Foyet must have taken them."

"Why would he drop Hotch off at the ER?"

You freeze for a moment, the pieces clicking into place.

"What hospital?" you ask quickly.

"St. Sebastian."

"I'm heading there now," you say, already heading for the door. "I'll call you when I know more."

"Go take care of our boy," Garcia says softly, her concern almost palpable.

"I will," you respond, feeling your heart tug at the thought of him.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The moment you step into the hospital room, the sight of Aaron lying unconscious in the bed hits you harder than you expected. His face is pale, too still, and the sight of the IVs and the bandages covering his torso make everything feel unreal. Your heart clenches at the sight—this isn't how it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to end up here, like this.

You walk toward his bedside, your breath catching in your throat. The room feels cold, too sterile. You reach out a hand, your fingers brushing the edge of his, desperate for some sign that he's still here, still fighting. The soft rhythm of the machines is the only sound breaking the silence, but it does nothing to calm the storm inside you.

"He was stabbed 9 times, but no major arteries were hit. It's a miracle he's alive," the doctor explains, her voice distant, clinical.

"When will he wake up?" you ask, your voice quiet, the question coming out almost like a prayer.

The doctor doesn't meet your eyes immediately. "There's no for sure answer. But he will be out of it when he does," she adds, glancing down at her clipboard.

You nod, but your heart sinks. That was the last thing you wanted to hear.

"Can I stay here?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, the words almost a plea.

"Are you his wife?" she asks, her tone soft but probing.

You feel a lump form in your throat at the question, your chest tightening. You swallow hard, unable to keep the emotion from your voice as you answer, "No. I'm his friend though." The words sound too hollow, too distant compared to what you truly feel for him. It hurts to say it.

The doctor studies you for a moment, her gaze full of sympathy. It makes something inside you break a little more. "Alright," she finally agrees, stepping aside to give you space.

You sit down, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The familiar sense of fear and helplessness floods back to you, dragging memories of your own attack to the surface. The panic. The helplessness. The pain. You can't help but feel it all over again, but now it's Aaron in that bed, and you can't stand it.

Your tears come without warning. Silent and unbidden, they slip down your face, and you let them fall. You can't hold it in any longer. You can't stand seeing him like this, can't stand the thought of losing him, especially after everything you've been through together. The weight of it all crashes down on you, and for a moment, you allow yourself to grieve for him, for both of you.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

The soft beeping of the machines gradually begins to sync with your heartbeat as you sit by Aaron's side, never moving from your spot. The sterile smell of the hospital room is a constant presence in your mind, but you're lost in the steady rhythm of his breathing. The steady rise and fall of his chest is the only thing that reassures you he's still here.

It's quiet, too quiet, as if the entire world outside the room has paused, waiting for him to come back to them. Your eyes are heavy, but you refuse to let them close, not when he's here, not when he's so fragile.

It's a soft groan, barely a whisper, that breaks the stillness.

Your heart leaps in your chest, and you look up. His hand twitches, lips parting, and you lean forward, barely daring to breathe.

"Aaron?" you whisper, your voice trembling, unsure if he can even hear you.

He doesn't answer right away, and for a second, you're afraid. You're worried that you imagined it, that the moment of hope was just that—momentary. But then, his fingers twitch again, more deliberately this time, and his eyelids flutter.

"Aaron," you say again, this time louder, more confident. "It's me. You're okay."

His breathing hitches, and then his eyes crack open, barely slits at first. He blinks rapidly as if trying to adjust to the light, the unfamiliar space. His gaze is unfocused for a moment before they find you. His brow furrows slightly, confusion flashing across his face.

“Y/N…” Aaron's voice is hoarse, barely more than a rasp, as if the air is too thick to breathe.

You nod, your own voice caught in your throat. "I'm here. You're safe."

His eyes narrow, and you can see him trying to process. The way his lips curl slightly, as though he wants to speak but can't find the strength, makes something in your chest tighten. He's disoriented and exhausted, and you know the fight is far from over.

"You're gonna be okay," you continue, your voice a little firmer now, trying to soothe him, to reassure him. "You've been through a lot. You're gonna make it through."

Aaron doesn't respond immediately. His eyes flicker to the machines, the IV, and then back to you, and you see the recognition settle in. The confusion begins to clear, replaced by something else—something darker.

"You—" He starts, his voice rasping again as he struggles to speak. His hand reaches out, weakly, and you take it, squeezing it gently. The first time you've ever held his hand. Both of you feel it, the draw, the electricity.

"I'm here," you whisper, squeezing his hand a little tighter, as if that might anchor him, bring him back to you fully.

He swallows, trying to push past the fog of pain and grogginess. His gaze moves from you to the sterile hospital room, his expression growing more alert, more aware. He seems to be piecing together the last few hours, his brow furrowing with the effort.

"Where…" he starts again, his voice cracking.

"Foyet," you answer softly but stop yourself, "You're in the hospital, Aaron. You were hurt… but you're going to be okay."

His eyes close again briefly, as if the weight of it all is too much. You watch him, waiting for him to say something, anything. When his eyes reopen, there's a flicker of something deeper in them—a fear that makes your heart tighten in your chest.

"Y/N…" he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. You know he wants to acknowledge the distance he's caused. That's Aaron. He has to hold himself accountable. But you won't let him right now.

"None of that matters," you repeat, fighting the lump in your throat. "I'm not going anywhere."

For a long moment, there's only the sound of his shallow breathing, and then, as if the strength is returning to him, he squeezes your hand. It's not much, but it's something. It's enough.

"You found me," he says, his voice rough, but there's a faint trace of something else in it, something vulnerable, that you can't quite place.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Aaron Hotchner," you answer, leaning closer, trying to keep the worry out of your voice.

He takes a shallow breath, and his eyes meet yours again. There's a fleeting moment of clarity behind the haze of pain, and the faintest hint of a smile touches his lips.

"I guess… you're not getting rid of me that easily either," he says, his voice hoarse, but the words are enough.

And for the first time since everything went wrong, you let yourself believe it. He's going to be okay.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

A few hours later, the team joins you. They're working desperately to track down Foyet, but they keep their distance, letting you stay by Aaron's side.

Aaron's eyes never leave you. Even when you're speaking with the doctor or conferring with the team, his gaze is locked on you. Despite everything—his attempt to push you away, the distance he's put between you in the past few weeks—you found him. You stayed by his side. You held his hand, God what he wouldn't do to still be holding your hand right now.

Your attention shifts back to him, and you offer him a gentle smile, one that could heal him faster than any medicine or doctor could. It's a smile that speaks volumes—comfort, reassurance, maybe even love.

"What is it?" His voice is weak, but there's curiosity in it.

"You know," you begin, a smirk tugging at your lips, "We match now."

He looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

Your eyes drop to his wounds, your expression softening. "Matching stab wounds. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that's pretty romantic."

Romantic. His heart rate spikes, and the rapid beeping of the machine makes it clear how much the word has affected him. He glances at the monitor, then back at you with a knowing look. "I clearly agree."

The door opens and the team files in, their presence a welcomed distraction. You stand and instinctively move a little closer to Aaron, positioning yourself between him and the others in a protective gesture. You trust the team, you always have, but right now, there's a primal need to shield him from anything that could remind him of the pain he's enduring. You need him safe. You need him whole.

"So Foyet dropped me off here?" Aaron asks. 

Rossi confirms, and Prentiss fills him in on some missing details from his memory. Somehow, you don't hear anything they say. Your eyes are fixed on Aaron. You come to when he speaks again, a sudden look of nervousness on his face.

"What did he take? He always takes something from his victims," he sighs, his voice weak.

"The only thing that caught our attention was a page ripped out of your address book, the B section," Emily responds.

"What did he leave? He always leaves something with his victims," Hotch asks, his voice strained.

"I went over your entire apartment—nothing seemed out of place," you reply, tense.

"Where are my clothes?" He asks, his eyes fluttering with exhaustion.

Emily grabs them, pulling them out of a small evidence bag. Your stomach churns at the sight of his bloodied clothes. Hotch weakly reaches for the bag himself, pulling out his credentials. Inside is a photo. He unfolds it, revealing a picture of Haley and Jack.

Fear floods his eyes, and he quickly shuts them, his head falling back against the bed. His breathing becomes jagged,distressed. "Haley's maiden name is Brooks. I always listed her in the B's in my personal information in case it fell into the wrong hands. He knows where they live."

Dread sinks deep into your chest, the consequence of his words settling in like a cold shiver.

The team moves fast, and you trust that Haley and Jack will be safe in their hands.

You sit next to Hotch again, your gaze never leaving him as he rests. But soon, a change occurs. His breathing becomes erratic, his heart rate spiking—not for the same reasons it did earlier when you spoke to him, but for something more serious, something more urgent.

You can see his stress increasing, his body twitching with unease. Something is wrong. The doctor rushes in, calling out his name, trying to bring him out of this episode.

"I'm okay," he manages to choke out, his voice strained.

The doctor looks at you, her tone firm. "I need you to step out of the room."

Fear tightens in your chest as you force yourself away from Hotch, the uncertainty of what's happening gnawing at you.

"No, I want her here," Hotch musters up the strength to say, his voice uneven but insistent.

You nod, the uncertainty in your chest easing slightly. "I'll be right outside the door, Aaron," you reassure him, your voice soothing yet determined.

The doctor works swiftly, stabilizing him, then motions for you to return. You don't hesitate, rushing back to his side, your heart pounding in your chest. It relaxes next to him, though.

"JJ just texted. Haley and Jack are safe and on their way here," you murmur, your voice soft but filled with relief.

Hotch nods, letting out an irregular breath as he sinks into the pillows, a subtle wave of relief washing over him.

You wrestle with the question, unsure if it's something you should ask. But the words slip out anyway, driven by the need for understanding.

"Hotch," you begin, your voice weary. "The Reaper went after you, and now he's targeting Haley and Jack. But… why did he attack me?"

The room falls into a heavy stillness as Aaron processes your words. The guilt building in him seems to burden him even more, as if the air around him is too dense to breathe.

"I mean, believe me," you continue, trying to buffer the intensity of the question. "I would much rather Foyet make a mistake and I be the collateral damage than him go after Haley and Jack. I just… you know him better than anyone. Why did I get caught in the crossfire?"

Your words hang between you, full of pain and confusion, as you await his response. But Aaron doesn't answer right away. Instead, he looks down at his hands, and you know the answer isn't easy for him to say.

As Aaron takes a deep breath, clearly preparing to reveal the truth about why Foyet attacked you, the door opens, and Haley steps into the room. You exchange a brief, silent nod with Aaron, then turn to Haley, offering a quick glance that says everything you can't put into words right now. You quietly step out without a word, giving them the space they need.

In the waiting room, the tension that had been hanging over you like a storm cloud starts to lift slightly as you spot JJ and Penelope sitting on the floor with Jack, their laughter softening the atmosphere. Jack's eyes meet yours the moment you enter, and the change in his expression is immediate—his face lights up with relief, and before you know it, he's running toward you.

He crashes into your legs, his little arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. "Is my daddy okay?" he asks, his voice small but full of concern.

You kneel down, smoothing his hair back and offering him the reassurance he needs. "Of course. All he can talk about is how he can't wait to see you." You give him a soft smile, trying to mask your own anxiety for his sake.

Time seems to stretch on as you keep glancing toward Hotch's room, the silence of the waiting room now deafening. It feels like the walls are closing in, and with every passing minute, the weight of everything—everything that's happened and everything that's still to come—sinks deeper into your chest.

"You did good today," Penelope says, her voice full of warmth and a touch of admiration, though the strain in her eyes tells you she's not immune to the gravity of the situation either.

"I'm so in over my head, Pen," you whisper, barely managing to push the words past the tightness in your throat. You don't need to say more for her to understand. She wraps her arm around your shoulder, pulling you close into the comfort of her embrace, and for a moment, it almost feels like everything might be okay.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Penelope's voice breaks the silence again, softer this time. "Oh, incoming," she whispers, her tone shifting to one of quiet anticipation.

You look up to see Haley approaching, her gaze searching the room as she locks eyes with you. She doesn't look at you with warmth—not that you'd expect it. There's a coolness, a distance in her eyes that you've learned to recognize but can't quite reconcile with the situation at hand.

"Y/N, right?" she asks, her voice neutral but pointed.

You nod, feeling a slight knot form in your stomach. 

"I'm gonna bring him into Aaron," Haley says, her words short as she nods toward Jack.

You look down at Jack, whose face is already lighting up again as he eagerly looks up at you. You smile at him, trying to keep the mood light. "I know your daddy will be so excited to see you."

"Really?" His eyes widen, and the joy on his face is almost heartbreaking, especially with everything else on your mind.

"Really." You say it gently, guiding him toward his mother, offering him the comfort of normalcy amid the chaos swirling around all of you. The heaviness hasn't left, but for now, it's enough to see Jack's smile as he walks hand-in-hand with Haley, all while you stand in the waiting room, helplessly caught between the past and what's to come.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

Aaron holds Jack close, his grip firm but gentle, memorizing the warmth of his son in his arms, knowing this could be the last time he sees him for the foreseeable future. He presses a lingering kiss to Jack's temple, breathing him in, as if trying to make the moment last just a little longer. Across the room, Haley watches them, her fingers twitch slightly at her sides,like she's holding herself back from reaching for Jack just yet.

"Jack said earlier that you were helping another agent who got hurt," she says, her voice measured. Then, after a beat, she adds, "Was it Y/N?"

Aaron's gaze flickers to her, his breath hitching just enough to betray his surprise.

Haley gives a small, knowing smile, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "She favors her right side when she walks and winces when she stands. I learned a thing or two from being married to a profiler for so long."

Some of the tension in his shoulders eases, his guard lowering ever so slightly.

"The same man who attacked me went after her a month ago," Aaron admits, his voice flat, factual. "Left her for dead as a message to me."

Haley doesn't react immediately, but when she does, her question is sharper than he expects. "And why did he choose her for that message?"

A hush stretches between them. Aaron has no answer that he's ready to give. Or maybe, he just doesn't want to say it out loud.

Haley exhales, her features softening in a way he doesn't quite understand. "As long as you aren't alone," she murmurs. She steps forward and presses a gentle, remorseful kiss to his forehead, lingering just long enough that his eyes flutter shut. "Don't shut anyone out, Aaron. You can't forget to be human."

He looks up at her, searching, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. For a moment, he forgets that he's a profiler, that he should be able to read her. Right now, he can't.

"Don't profile me, Aaron," she says, amusement flickering through her tired expression. "We were married once. You know what I mean."

And for the first time in a long time, she smiles at him—not the polite, distant smiles they've exchanged for years, but something real, something worn down by time but still familiar. Then, with one final nod, she turns toward the door.

You're standing in the hallway with Prentiss, Morgan, and U.S. Marshal Sam Kassmeyer when Jack runs out, making a beeline straight for you. His little hands tug at your pant leg, and when you kneel down, he looks up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

"When I'm on my trip, can you come see me?" he asks, his voice small and sweet.

Your heart clenches. You glance up at Haley instinctively, searching for any sign of her feelings. She meets your eyes, and for a moment, there's something obscure there. Then, after a beat, she smiles—not big, not bright, but a smile nonetheless. A resigned kind of acceptance.

You turn back to Jack, smoothing his hair with a tender hand. "You're going on a very special trip with your mom," you tell him gently. "I wouldn't want to get in the way of that. But maybe when you're home, we can make spaghetti again, just like when we first met."

Jack grins at the memory, and from the corner of your eye, you see Haley's shoulders ease slightly. Maybe she recognizes the reassurance in your words—that you would never come between her and her son, that you know where the boundaries are.

"Give Miss Y/N a big hug," Haley encourages.

Jack throws his arms around you, and you hug him back, holding onto him just a second longer than you should. When you finally pull away and stand, your eyes find Haley's again.

"We're going to catch this guy, Haley," you say, voice firm, steady. "This won't be for long."

She exhales through her nose, then reaches out, lightly squeezing your arm. "I don't doubt it," she says quietly. "My concern is… at what cost?"

The significance of her words is not lost on you, and then she's turning, taking Jack's hand in hers as they start toward Sam. But just before they reach the end of the hall, Haley stops. She turns back to you one last time, something unreadable flickering across her face.

"Take care of him," she says.

And then she's gone.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

You and the team return to Aaron's side, the room filling with quiet murmurs of reassurance and unwavering support. Morgan cracks a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, Prentiss offers a knowing look, and JJ's soft words are meant to soothe. But despite it all, you hover just beside him, your hands hanging at your sides, unsure where you fit in this moment of camaraderie. Every so often, your gaze drifts to him, and without fail, you find his eyes already on you.

The team fills him in on the case they closed earlier—an investigation wrapped up in a matter of hours—but you can tell Aaron isn't entirely there. His nods are absentminded, his jaw tight, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. You know where they've gone. To Jack. To Haley. To the uncertainty of what comes next.

You shift closer, just enough that your fingertips barely graze his. It's subtle, a quiet offering meant only for him. Something small, something grounding. A tether, if he needs it.

For a moment, there's nothing. And then, slowly, his fingers brush against yours, the touch light, tentative. But then he holds on—just enough to make it count. Just enough that neither of you has to say anything. The contact is both everything and nothing, a lifeline and a release.

It's the smallest of gestures, unnoticed by anyone else, but in that fleeting moment, it feels like you're both holding on for dear life—and somehow, at the same time, setting each other free.

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•:•.

When everyone else leaves, you stay behind, offering to be his security for the night.

As the unit settles into its late-night hush, the nurses dim the lights and draw the curtains around his room. You giggle softly, the absurdity of it all hitting you at once.

Aaron glances at you, his lips curving into a faint smile simply because yours is so infectious. "What is it?"

Your laughter only grows. "I just think it's bizarre that a month ago, I was in the hospital from stab wounds, and now here I am, in the hospital with you… because you were stabbed." You shake your head in disbelief. "Wanna know the most ironic part of it all?"

He chuckles, the sound low and rough but full of amusement. "What's so ironic?"

Still grinning, you tug at the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal the fading, jagged marks along your skin. Then, you step over to the chart hanging by his bed, pointing to the initials scribbled across the top.

"Of all the things my scar could've been, it had to be your initials," you say, shaking your head before bursting into laughter again. "Penelope said last week that it's like those soulmate tropes—where your soulmate's initials appear on your skin. Except mine were carved in by a psychopathic serial killer."

Aaron exhales a quiet laugh, but the motion is too much. He winces, pressing a hand to his side.

"I've been there," you say knowingly, your amusement fading as you settle beside him.

The silence that follows isn't heavy, nor is it uncomfortable. It simply exists, a quiet space between you both.

Then, in a voice so soft you almost think you imagined it, he whispers, "It wasn't a mistake."

Your breath stills. "What?"

"Foyet targeting you," Aaron murmurs, his eyelids fluttering shut. "It was never a mistake."

You blink rapidly, his words sinking in, pivoting something deep within you. But before you can speak, his body relaxes against the pillows, the exhaustion overtaking him.

[huntingrays]

valgrace x overheard confessions (quick lil drabble)

Jason was known for being able to remain calm and collected.

It was a quality of his that many considered to be positive. When things got stressful and intense, he could remain calm, look at things logically, and devise a plan. No matter what life threw at him, he didn’t crack under pressure or let fear take over.

So, if that was true, why was he pacing just outside the entrance of their makeshift camp, looking like a nervous dog while his heart thumped away loudly in his chest?

It all started with their quest. Jason was assigned a quest with specific members: himself, Piper, Leo, Percy, and Will. The end goal of the quest wasn’t important to him right now. What was important was that Leo had gone on his own to diffuse a bomb.

When Leo first pitched his plan, Jason obviously objected. He already lost Leo once to an explosion, he wasn’t about to go through it again.

Leo had rolled his eyes and said he was the best option. After all, he was fireproof and understood machinery and traps. Also, they needed to diffuse the bomb within the next 24 hours, or the item they needed for the quest would be destroyed.

They went back and forth until Jason ran out of good points to argue. He then suggested he could go with Leo, which Leo refused. Leo wanted them to be a good distance away in case the bomb went off. Also, Jason would only end up being a distraction. Jason didn’t have any good arguments after that.

It wasn’t like Jason didn’t trust or believe in Leo. On the contrary, he believed in him more than he believed in himself. He had full confidence that Leo could not only do this but do it without breaking a sweat.

What worried him was the unknown. What if Leo ran into a monster? What if it was a trap? What if he got stuck? What if he needed help? What if he got hurt? Those were the worries that flooded his mind.

“Jason, he’s going to be okay,” Piper said, trying to soothe him.

Piper and Percy got tired of seeing him pace outside the camp. They stood at the entrance of the camp, Piper looking sympathetic and Percy looking tired. Jason could understand why. At this point, he was tired of all the quests too. Percy should look into retirement. He wondered if the gods offered that to mortals. They really should, especially if the demigod in question has already saved the world more than once.

“What if something happens?” Jason asked, turning to face her, his back to the woods.

“Nothing is going to happen.”

“You don’t know that!” Jason insisted.

“He’s tougher than he looks,” Percy commented, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the tree that marked the entrance to their camp.

Jason sighed heavily. “I know that. I’ve been on quests with him before. You don’t think I know that? He’s saved my life more times than I can count. However, he’s still not a fighter. Something could happen. He could get hurt. He could be in trouble. What if he needs up and I’m not there to save him?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Piper said, trying to soothe him again. “He’ll be back in one piece, comment about how easy it is, and tease you for worrying so much.”

Percy’s eyes darted from the woods to Jason. “Uh… Jason.”

Jason ignored him. He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I know. I just… I can’t stop worrying about him. If something happens to him, I’ll never be able to forgive myself for letting him go out alone.”

Piper frowned. She tilted her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s gotten into you? You weren’t this worried last time we went on a quest together. Well, you would worry about him but you weren’t… this level of worried.”

“Jason,” Percy spoke up again, with more urgency in his voice. There was a tone in it Jason couldn’t recognize. He waved Percy off.

“Things… have changed between now and then,” Jason muttered, trying to dance around the reason.

“Bullshit,” Piper retaliated. “Things have changed, but not enough for this extreme of a reaction. I’d feel more comfortable with this Leo going off on his own than that fifteen-year-old boy that we used to know. He’s had more training, is more confident in himself, and has all sorts of weird inventions he can test out on monsters. What gives?”

“It’s just… it’s different.”

“How? How is it different?”

“Jason!” Percy piped in once again.

“Shut up, Percy!” Jason snapped, glancing at Percy before turning his gaze back to Piper. “Fine! You want to know how it’s different? It’s because I’m in love with him! I love him so much that the thought of him getting hurt crushes me. I know he can keep himself safe, but my heart wants me to be his knight in shining armor. I want to be there to swoop in and save him when danger comes his way. I already lost him once, I can’t lose him again! I’d never forgive myself if I lost him and never got to tell him how much I loved him.”

“You love me?” A soft, familiar voice behind Jason asked.

Jason whipped around to see Leo. He was leaning against a tree, his right hand reaching across his abdomen, holding his left side. He looked tired but he was staring fixedly at Jason with his widened eyes.

Jason rushed to him in an instant, ignoring what Percy and Piper were saying behind him.

“I tried to warn him…” Percy muttered.

“It’s probably better this way,” Piper replied.

“Leo! Are you okay?” Jason asked, grabbing his shoulders. “Did you-”

“You love me?” Leo asked, cutting off his words, his question firmer than it had been.

Jason could lie. He wasn’t sure how much Leo heard, but he could lie. Well, Leo likely heard a large majority of it if Percy’s attempts to get his attention were anything to go by. He could lie… but he didn’t. Something told him that he shouldn’t. Also… he couldn’t lie to Leo, not when he was looking at him like that.

“Yes,” Jason replied, voice soft, “I do. I love you.”

Leo stared at him momentarily before gripping the collar of his shirt, leaning up, and kissing him.

Jason’s brain came to a screeching halt, almost being unable to process the fact that Leo Valdez was kissing him. He blinked in shock before his brain caught up with him and yelled at him, telling him to kiss his crush back and not just stand there like an idiot. Jason did just that. He kissed Leo back, his eyes fluttering shut.

The kiss was amazing, warm, and made his heart pound in his chest. He didn’t care if it was inexperienced and a little messy. It was with Leo, and that made it the best kiss he ever had.

All too soon, Leo pulled away from the kiss. As Jason opened his eyes, before he could even make a romantic comment or lean in to kiss him again, Leo let out a whimper of pain and slumped against him.

Jason looked down and noticed the red stain on Leo’s shirt from the side he’d been holding. Blood. He was bleeding.

“Leo!” Jason scolded. He pulled Leo close, threw his arm around his shoulder, and dragged him back to their camp. “You should’ve said you were injured and went to Will right away!”

“Kinda hard to remember your injury when your crush suddenly confessed his love for you,” Leo muttered with a huff.

Jason blushed but continued to drag Leo into camp and over to where Will set up his makeshift infirmary. Will sighed as Jason plopped Leo down right in front of him.

Will turned his attention to his bag, getting out what he’d need. Then, he looked at Leo, settled down beside him, pulled up his shirt, and got to work patching him up. Jason hesitated before sitting down next to Leo.

Leo sighed dramatically as he leaned against Jason, resting his head on his shoulder. He was silent for a few beats before his gaze flicked up to Jason. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I would hope so. I would hope you don’t make a habit of kissing boys who confess to having feelings for you as you’re bleeding out.”

Leo laughed softly. “I don’t. You’ve always been my expedition.”

Will looked up at them. “Can you two stop flirting while I’m trying to work?”

Leo stuck his tongue out at him. “Don’t be bitter just because your boyfriend isn’t here.”

Will shook his head and went back to work.

Jason ran his knuckles up and down Leo’s back. “How did the bomb defusal go?”

“Easy as cake. No challenge for me because I’m the best ever.”

“You really are,” Jason earnestly replied.

Leo blinked up at him before flushing and averting his gaze. He was about to reply before he jumped and hissed in pain as Will touched a sensitive spot.

“Sorry. My bad,” Will dryly said.

Leo’s gaze shot over to him. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!”

“What? I would never.”

As Leo began to bicker with their medic, Jason laughed softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of Leo’s head.

Quests seemed to always have moments you never expect. Some good, some bad, and some life-changing. He was glad this life-changing moment was a good one.

[kaveat]

One of my favourite things to think about is the rest of the batfam all having their own ‘Brucie Wayne’ personas. So here’s me listing how I imagine the main family members would front to the public.

Dick

I think would be very similar to Bruce with the same air-headed personality. As far as the internets concerned he can’t spell orange and pretends not to know any of the 50 states let alone which one he lives in. He also uses the fact that he never officially finished college to his advantage. As a kid he was more eccentric and people just knew him as that little kid whose constantly high of sugar and lollipops. Not much changes when becomes an adult.

Of course like father like son and he is also extremely charismatic. His persona is a little more goofy than Bruce’s and he’s known as the Wayne’s resident gymnast, at least in the air. He’s made a habit of acting as though any and all fine motor skills come to an absolute stop the moment he isn’t doing some complex flip, or cartwheel. There are serval videos on YouTube of him tripping over air, spilling drinks over his shirt, and stumbling into several guests, only half of these were faked. He also has a reputation of being an absolutely insane drunk. He went viral on twitter for doing a triple backflip in the middle of a gala which resulted in a shattered punch bowl, several traumatised guests and a fake news report claiming he’d died which sent the city into a riot for the next 24 hours all because he was a little bit tipsy.

Jason

Jason was pretty young when he ‘died’. Before hand he was the happy go lucky kid. With stars in his eyes and more energy than a Chihuahua hiked up on red bull and pure, liquified blue raspberry. Of course you had the occasional leech who saw in some news report that he used to be a street kid which resulted in several rumours about his ‘horrid violent nature’ but all it took was actually meeting him for most to completely disregard this.

After his death he doesn’t hang around the rest of the family much. Especially not in public and out of masks. However there is the occasional day (once every millennia or so) where he’ll stroll up to whatever part or gala or social event the Wayne’s are hosting that day, with his foolproof, impenetrable disguise Tayson Jodd absolutely no relation to Brucies dead kid, nor the elusive red hood who has a hate account dedicated to his very existence.

His whole thing tends to be a regular upstanding member of society. He acts completely normal. This wasn’t always the case. He used to change it every time he went to the parties, either acting as some depressed, lonely rich guy or an alcoholic and on one particularly memorable occasion a closeted drag Queen. However one time he showed up without a persona pre made and ready to go and just decided to wing it.

However Tim Drakes insane paranoia meant he stayed up a good 3 weeks after that night just to make sure Jason wasn’t trying anything and when Red hood found out he found it absolutely hilarious and resolved to be as respectable as possible while also generating maximum suspicion for all other members of his family.

Stephanie Brown

Although not officially adopted by the Wayne’s most people have gotten used to seeing her just roll up with the Wayne’s and it didn’t take long for social media to realise that Brucie had emotionally adopted her, if not legally. At first Steph didn’t really understand the need for a persona. She was already fine with keeping her actual personality and not turning it off for the cameras.

It took seeing Jason, who was having an absolute blast with his public persona to open her mind to the range of possibilities and she spent a full 3 months crafting a personality from scratch (putting that psychology degree to good use).

She cycled through a couple. Rich party girl, serious career woman, ditzy idiot. But eventually she landed on scheming socialite. She saw some tabloids slandering her for being Tim’s ex and although the rest of the family was not happy she took it and ran with it. Landing herself in the circles of the most gossip loving, shit talking, hot woman she could find.

She makes sure she exudes villainy at all times and has been seen eyeing Timothy Drake from across the room, stroking a cat (though no one knew where she got it from) and sipping a martini. Although she doesn’t particularly like how cruel some of her companions are she finds no greater joy than passively aggressively remarking about how Donna is wearing the same heels she was 3 years ago and oh my is she running low on funds? She was born to instigate and takes every opportunity to do so.

Tim Drake

If Tim is known for anything then it’s his ability to appear as though everything has gone to his exact calculations on the outside while internally screaming and just completely winging whatever half brained plan comes to mind. But one forgets, he isn’t just a Wayne but a Drake. Son of Janet Drake at that.

As a kid he was very much a mamas boy and would replicate her cold calculating air to the best abilities of a 10 year old boy. As he grew up however he realised that he much preferred letting people underestimate him. So in the end he settled on the stoner.

It was pretty unexpected for most of his family. Bar Dick who embraced it with all the reverence of a chaotic older sibling. Of course Tim Drake being as meticulous as he is meant when he made this persona built it from the ground up. He gave himself a favourite drug, a fake dealer, and he methodically updates his account balance every week, taking out just enough that it looks like he’s been buying.

Not only does this have the added benefit of explaining the random times he’s passed out in the middle of a party or those random compilations of him on YouTube simply staring into the abyss for hours on end, but it also means he had to try way less than his siblings when it comes to presentation. If Dick or Bruce show up with even so much as a slightly ruffled collar the tabloids will go on for weeks about the mystery guy or girl they definitely slept with. But when Tim does it, they just laugh. He gets a pat on the head and a glass of water shoved into his hands and no one thinks anything more.

And if he can also use it as an excuse for a few extra minuets of sleep then whose going to stop him?

Cassandra Cain

Cass didn’t need to do much of anything. When she first arrived in Gotham she was small, quite and not very well versed in social customs so it was practically written in the stars that she’d become an instant fan favourite. However unlike most of her siblings most of her fans aren’t focused on her what she’s been doing, or with who, but rather on trying to spot her.

She’s some aloof, mysterious figure to them and she’s also become a bit of a where’s Waldo meme. News reporters will post overview shots of the huge hall the guest are occupying, the grounds of the manor, the well kept lawns, the roofs, and the internet will go crazy trying to find her. At first it was difficult but only because she kept to herself, you’d find her in a corner of the room, or hiding behind one of the taller guests but ever since she realised what was going on she’s been making a conscious effort to make it as difficult as possible.

Some of her hiding spots include: under the table, the roof, inside the fountain, disguised as Dick Grayson, a statue, on the chandelier, and somehow as one of the reporters, camera and all. It’s become a bit of a game to see who can find her first and she remains Gothams favourite Wayne.

Duke Thomas

Duke isn’t really sure what to make of this whole public persona thing. He finds hiding such a big part of himself a little strange, and doesn’t much enjoy the idea of putting on a mask for others. So he does what he does best and puts the rest of the Wayne’s to shame with his sound logic.

He’s just himself. And somehow manages to cause the biggest impact. The people aren’t used to rich people not being overly eccentric. This is Gotham after all! And Duke Thomas’ actual personality is not exactly something they were expecting.

This is the same man who raised an army of teenage armies in the absence of his hero. To call him impulsive would be an understatement. Also he very much enjoys ‘eating the rich’ so to speak. He used his powers to convince one particularly nasty man that he needed full psychiatric care by randomly disappearing whenever he was in their line of sight.

He hangs out with Dick a lot, but only so when the worst of the Gotham socialites approach he can make them feel as uncomfortable as possible by questioning their thoughts and feelings on the working class, living conditions and all the other stuff they usually couldn’t care less about which leaves them scrambling for an answer that won’t completely ruin their reputations. Although he’s been branded ‘the responsible one’ that’s only because he presents himself as such to reporters. Most of the people attending the galas live in fear of him ever approaching them.

Damian Wyane

Being the youngest meant that people already had expectations by the time Damian showed up. Although most had no idea where the kid came from that didn’t stop them from making assumptions, and the rumours circulating from before he was officially introduced range from a mini Bruce Wayne to raging alcoholic. And yes, these were published when reporters knew damn well he was 10 years old maximum.

When the public do finally see him for the first time it doesn’t take them long to craft a persona for him. Damian of course sees this whole thing as beneath him, he doesn’t understand why he would need to hide himself, he didn’t train with the league for years to just not show of his skills. Dick tries to get him to think of it like training, as though he were on an undercover mission. This works a little too well and now he takes it so incredibly seriously it’s hard for the others not to laugh.

He arrived, squeezed in between Brucie Wayne who was blowing kisses to the camera, Dick Grayson doing a handstand, Tim Drake who looked absolutely blitzed and Stephanie Brown who was manically rubbing her hands together. Cass nowhere to be found and Duke giving his classic sunny smile to the camera.

So of course people realise this kid must be the adult. There’s jokes about how Damian must be the one doing the Wayne’s taxes, about how he probably drives Bruce to work, and other such things. Which is only further cemented by the kid himself. But he also doesn’t talk much (Dick said if he had nothing nice to say he shouldn’t say anything), and a few (illegally taken) photos show him drawing, as well as his small army of pets and so people are torn between this kid who is clearly far too mature for his age and this cute baby of a child who likes fluffy animals and crayons.

Damian is disgusted by both sides, but there isn’t much he can do about it and resolves instead to fuck with everyone by leaning into it and alternating on a seemingly random basis between clueless child and grown adult in a 10 year olds body. It mostly ends up terrifying the rest of his family because occasionally Damian (who several of them watched kill a man) will come up smiling and demand to be placed on their shoulders, and other times the same kid (who found a cow a decided immediately he was a vegetarian) will be found sipping straight vodka and going on about the good old days with people 8x his age as though he were some drunken world war 2 veteran.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Daichi wasn't the kind of guy to initiate physical affection in public but he was never opposed to it either. You got a pass for pretty much anything as long as it wasn't too crazy of course. A kiss on the cheek, holding hands, even something just a smidge risque went back and forth from being tolerated to downright wanted. Daichi was always such a softie when it came to you and it felt as though the sky was the limit.

His perfect blue sky quickly turned dark once he saw you being sweet with other people though.

It's fine, he would tell himself. (y/n) is just like that and I can't change it, he would try to reason with his overly paranoid mind. But seeing you act so carefree around guys such as Nishinoya and Tanaka - it drove him up the wall. His anger was bottled up and he never said anything, ever. As much as he hated to see just how close the three of you had gotten there was still a tiny smidge of patience left in him. Why? Because he is the team captain, that's why. No one in their right mind would go after you, even if those two clowns did have feelings for you they simply wouldn't do anything out of respect for him.

Their team captain.

That gave him some peace of mind as he watched the three of you goof off 24/7 and besides, having you around kept the morale high. It was an absolute win when he stopped to think about it - you get to help the team in any way you could meanwhile Daichi could keep an eye on you without worrying about your whereabouts. It really was the best possible outcome of this particular situation.

Pity that was only the case for practice though.

You had classes and other places to be, Daichi couldn't keep you on a leash no matter how tempting it was sometimes.

Ever since Karasuno picked up steam and became more popular as a result a lot of people started to ask questions and most of them turned to you because it was the most logical thing to do. You were in a relationship with Daichi, the beloved team leader, of course people were going to swarm all over you eventually.

Things quickly turned sour once Daichi picked up on the fact that some people had more wicked intentions. Be it to use you to get some information out of you or to steal you away from Daichi, both were horrible and it made him want to vomit his own blood. He would pace back and forth in his room, pondering on what he should do. Countless hours of sleep are lost as his mind wavers, paranoia seeping into his pores as his classmates keep asking what the hell is wrong with him and can he please stop making that scary face, it's disturbing.

After a little while though, Daichi has an epiphany. He can't go full on jealous boyfriend on his teammates because that would cause problems both inside and outside the court. Everyone else though?

They were fair game.

Don't get him wrong, he's not going to be some super creepy boyfriend who is going to take up all of your time (even though he wants to be just that but you won't ever catch him saying that out loud) but when someone else approaches you he can be as mean as he wants to be. He spent years training his nerves on morons such as Tanaka, he can be either the most condescending person to have ever lived or the rarer route of him just going for the kill.

Figuratively or literally, it would depend on the situation and person.

... no killing would be ideal though.

He has mastered the art of scary looking faces, people have literally ran away from him in the past because he's just that scary when he's mad. He is strong, he is smart, he knows how to utilize everything he has to his advantage.

And you won't even know just how jealous of a guy Daichi really is.

[garmonboziasworld]

Danni Winchester has left her brothers in 2006 after the death of their father, John Winchester. The siblings haven't spoken in years but when the Darkness is released, Danni reunites with her brothers. If she had known what turn her life would take from that moment on, maybe she wouldn't have come back at all. But you can't run from destiny, can you? A Supernatural Lucifer x OC Corruption Arc/Soulmate Trope

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Chapter 26: What's family done for anybody?

Danni looked at Rowena, shocked. “What have you done?!”

“Me? He attacked me first!”

“You provoked him!” Danni yelled and looked at the bowl and then at the rift. “Shit. Goddamnit, shit! What are we supposed to do now? The remaining grace won't be enough, the rift will close before they're back.”

Rowena didn't answer her. Instead, she packed her bag.

“Rowena? What are you doing?”

“Your brothers are trapped in another universe. With your lover. Not my problem.”

“Wait, you're leaving? Seriously? Rowena, you can't do that.”

“I can and I will, sweetheart. Bon voyage. Au revoir.”

“You were supposed to help in case anything goes wrong. But once a coward, always a coward, right?” Danni huffed. “To hell with you, I don't need you.”

She grabbed the knife on the table lying next to the bowl and stretched out her arm.

“What are you doing?” Rowena asked.

“Cas said it himself, I'm an archangel's soulmate with archangel-like powers. I may not have grace, but I'm his soulmate, connected to him. God made us equal and my soul and his grace are intertwined. Maybe my blood will suffice.”

“You cannot really mean that,” Rowena exhaled but when she saw Danni drawing blood from her wrist, she shook her head. “You do mean it. Are you out of your mind? You don't know how long they will take to come back.”

“If you don't like it, Rowena, you know where the door is.”

Rowena looked at the door, then she looked back at Danni. “Oh, bollocks,” she said and stopped packing her bags. “You're just as mad as your brothers.”

“Not going to argue about that.”

Rowena got a huge, thick book back out of her bag. “Alright. Let's see if I can find some spell to aid you so you don't bleed out on me.”

“I'll give my best,” Danni said dryly.

Time went by and Rowena was still searching for a spell to help Danni keeping the rift open.

“How are you holding up, dear?” Rowena asked.

“Peachy,” Danni answered. “Just peachy.”

“You're getting a little pale around the nose.”

“Oh really? Well me bleeding into this goddamn spell is probably not the reason, is it?” Danni sighed. “At least it's working and it keeps the rift open.”

The two fell silent again. But Danni broke the silence just a few moments after.

“Is it true what you said? About what my brothers are thinking of me?”

“Well, they didn't use the exact words I used, but … “ Rowena sighed deeply when she saw Danni's disappointed face. “They're just worried about you, dear. They see how Lucifer is slowly manipulating you. They don't trust Lucifer.”

“But they can trust me.”

“Can they? You are so taken by him.”

“Well, they don't have to worry much longer. Once Michael is defeated, Lucifer and I will leave. Away from all this fighting and killing.”

“And you think your brothers will let you?”

“I don't care if they'll let me.”

They said nothing to each other for a while. The hours passed and inbetween, Danni changed arms to drain blood from.

“Don't you want to heal the other one?” Rowena asked.

“I don't know how to do that yet,” Danni admitted quietly.

“Oh you silly thing.” Rowena looked at the rift which started to flicker. It was about to close soon. Then she looked at Danni. “You can't do this much longer.”

“Then they better hurry up,” Danni said.

As if by command, a person stepped through the rift. It was Ketch. He didn't say a word when he arrived. He was followed by Jack who immediately rushed over to Danni.

“Danni!”

“Hey Jack,” she smiled, “good to see you again.”

Then, her Mom entered the room. A few other people followed. People she had never met. Until Castiel stepped through.

“Rowena. Danni.”

“About bloody time,” Rowena exhaled. 

Finally, Dean stepped through the rift, shortly followed by Sam. Castiel took Danni's arms and healed her. “What were you thinking?”

“Hey, someone had to keep that rift open after Rowena blasted Lucifer through the rift.”

“We lost Gabriel,” Dean said as he watched the rift closing. “He sacrificed himself so Sam and I could get out.”

Danni looked around and frowned. “Wait. Where's Lucifer?”

Her brothers exchanged a look. One that Danni didn't like. She stood up from the chair, slowly, weakened by what she had just gone through. “Where is he?” She asked again, this time firmer.

Sam sighed and looked to the ground before he looked at her again. “Sorry, Danni, we couldn't allow him to come back with us.”

“You what? You left him behind?!”

“Danni, please, not in front of all those people,” Dean said quietly.

“I don't care about these people!” Danni didn't even bother to be quiet. “You left him behind! How could you do that?”

“It's the best for everyone,” Sam said. “You'll understand.”

“I'll never forgive you for that …”

“Danni, come on …” Dean wanted to approach her but she stepped back.

“Don't you dare,” she whispered and walked away, not paying attention to anyone.

“And?” Dean asked Sam as he came back to him.

“And, she's still in her room. Pissed and not talking to me.”

“Well, at least she's here and didn't teleport herself to I don't know where.”

They were celebrating with the others from the apocalyptic world. Celebrating that they made it to this world. Escaping Michael. But for Sam and Dean, the celebration had a bitter taste. Not only was Gabriel dead but their sister was furious with them and refused to talk to them.

“She'll have to get out at some point, right?” Dean asked.

“Dean, we trapped Lucifer, her soulmate, in this apocalyptic world. She'll try to save him.”

“Well good luck with that. The only archangel whose grace could open the rift is one the other side of it, trapped in that crazy Mad Max world. And hey, I guess that Michael killed him already anyway, so what's the point in even trying?”

“She will hate us for what we did.”

“She won't hate us, Sammy. We're her brothers. Her family. Lucifer was just someone she was forced to like. She didn't even choose so, God made her.”

“That doesn't change her feelings for him.”

“She'll get over it, Sam. You know it was the right thing to do. For her. And for Jack. I don't want Lucifer anywhere near them.”

“So do I, Dean. I mean it was my idea after all. But still.”

They stopped talking when Jack came over to them.

“Where's Danni?”

“In her room, pouting,” Dean said.

“My father told me about them, what they are. When we talked in the apocalypse world,” Jack said. “He told me that she loves him. She'll probably be sad that he's gone. I should talk to her.”

“That's not a good idea,” Sam said. “Not now. Give her some time.”

But some time turned into days. Weeks even. And Danni kept giving them the silent treatment. At least her brothers. She talked to her mother and Castiel and Jack. But not Sam and Dean. Neither did she care about those people from the apocalypse world. She spent her day getting used to her powers. She practised, got them under control. Because she needed them if she wanted to free Lucifer from the apocalypse universe. 

~ September 2018 ~

The others had gathered because one of the new people died. Or got killed, actually. Maggie. Danni didn't know her so little did she care. She was caught in her grief, nothing else mattered to her. She wanted to save Lucifer. If Michael hadn't killed him already. She had tried to open the rift several times but it never worked out. Apparently, her blood was enough to keep it open but it wasn't enough to actually open it. While the others were mourning Maggie, trying to find out who or what killed her, Danni suddenly walked past them and hurried up the stairs to the door of the bunker.

“Where are you going?” Dean yelled after her, but she didn't answer him, she just left. 

Once outside, she wandered through the forest. At one point, she stopped and turned around to the presence she felt. Looking at Jack. She sighed.

“Jack, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the others?”

“You left so quickly, I thought something's wrong.”

“It’s not, okay? Everything is fine. You shouldn't be here, Jack. Go back.”

“I don't want to leave you alone.”

“I'm fine, okay?”

“Danni, you're-”

“Jack, please!”

He was taken aback by her harsh voice. But even more so when he looked behind her after they'd heard rustling of wings. Danni slowly turned around.

“Missed me?”

There he was. Lucifer. She quickly approached him and threw her arms around him as he pulled her in for a close embrace.

“You can't imagine how much,” she whispered and grabbed his face to kiss him. He smiled into the kiss and returned it until he slowly pulled back. He had to, before he couldn't hold himself back anymore.

“As much as I'd love to continue this, my son is watching.”

Danni slowly let go of him and Lucifer looked at Jack.

“Hey, son.”

Jack looked at Danni.

“Is he real?”

“I hope so,” she said and Lucifer huffed.

“Of course I'm real.”

“Did you bring him back?” Jack asked Danni.

“No. But I felt his presence as soon as he got back here.”

“Sam said he's dead. That Michael killed him.”

“No, he assumed he's dead. He wished he'd be dead.”

“Look, son, Sam is a big fat liar and a bad person. I saved his life, then he left me behind. To get rid of me. I mean it has already worked before, right? But, no hard feelings, I'm back and I'll move on.”

“But if the rift is closed and Danni didn't bring you back, then how did you get back?” Jack asked him.

“No. Not how. Why. I'm here for Danni. And you, Jack. You're my son. I know, the others will never admit it but you need me. Because I can understand you in a way they don't. And never will. You know why? Because they're human. And we're not. See, humans are limited and fragile. And, I'll have to admit, they bring out the worst in me. It's like no matter how much you try to do right around them, something always goes wrong. Us and humans, we're just a bad combination. I mean there are rare exceptions of course,” he said and put his arm around Danni's shoulder. “But overall? Humans and angels? Not good.”

“I … I know,” Jack said quietly. “I understand.”

“Jack, are you okay?” Danni asked.

“I hurt someone again,” he admitted. “Some innocent guy who didn't do anything but I attacked him. I thought he killed Maggie. I was wrong.”

“See, son? That's exactly what I'm talking about.”

“So what do we do?”

“We leave,” Lucifer said. “I mean, there's a whole universe out there. Planets, stars, galaxies. Danni and I talked about going there and you can come with us. Why should we stay on earth when we can go anywhere else?”

“But … Sam, Dean and Castiel? They'll miss me. Us.”

“Jack, if I have to choose, I'll pick Lucifer. Yes, they'll miss me and yes, it will be hard. But I want to live my life with him. And of course they'll miss you too. Not gonna lie, they will. But you have to do what you want, not them.”

“This is our second chance, kiddo,” Lucifer said. “This is our opportunity to escape everything. We can start over. What do you say? Father, son, stepmom? Little family road trip?”

“I …” Jack looked at both of them. Then, he smiled. “I'd like that. But there's something I'd need you to do first.”

They went back into the bunker together and Jack led them into the library where they stumbled into Mary and the Bobby from the other world. Both looked alarmed when they saw Lucifer.

“What the hell?” Bobby asked and looked at both of them.

“Danni, what did you do?” Mary asked.

“I didn't do anything, Mom,” Danni said.

“He's here to help,” Jack explained. 

“Oh really? Is he?” Bobby looked after them as they were approaching a table in the library where Maggie's body was lying on.

“So you're leaving dead bodies on tables now,” Lucifer remarked. “Nice.”

“We were waiting,” Mary explained who had been following them. “To give her a hunter's funeral.”

“You won't have to,” Jack said. “My father's gonna bring Maggie back to life.”

“I am? That's what you brought me here for?”

“I promised her I'd protect her. I didn't. But this is my second chance.”

“Yeah, uh, Jack, about this resurrection stuff, it's not always a great idea because people come back different.”

“You said you'd do it.”

Lucifer took a long look at Jack, then he sighed. “Fine.”

He put his hand on Maggie's forehead. His eyes glowed red and suddenly, Maggie sat up again and gasped for air.

After Lucifer had resurrected Maggie, he, Jack and Danni had left the bunker. It was dark when they were standing in the forest again. Danni looked up into the starry sky and Lucifer stepped behind her, putting his arms around her.

“Magnificent, isn't it?” she asked.

“Yes. And the stars are beautiful too.”

She huffed and leaned against him. “Shut up.” She looked over to Jack and saw his smiling face. “What?”

“Nothing. I just … It's good to see you happy again.”

But then, his facial expression changed to concern.

“What's wrong, Jack?”

“Sam. I hear Sam. He's praying to me, he needs my help.”

Lucifer sighed in annoyance. “Of course he does.”

“I have to go, I'm sorry.” And with the rustling of his wings, he was gone.

“We uh … Maybe we should follow him,” Lucifer said.

“... Why?” Danni asked and looked at him.

“Just trust me, okay?”

Danni sighed heavily. “What did you do this time?”

“I’ll explain it to you later, okay? Let’s get Jack and then we’ll leave.”

She didn't like where this was going. She just wanted to leave everything behind for good. But instead, she and Lucifer teleported back to the bunker where Sam, Dean and Castiel were facing Michael from the apocalypse world.

“Danni?” Sam asked. “What are you doing? Why are you with him?”

“What do you think, Sam?”

Jack saw Dean and Castiel who were clearly beaten by Michael. Jack used his powers and tormented Michael until blood was running from his eyes and ears. He screamed in pain and grunted.

“Lucifer! We had a deal!”

“Okay, playtime's over,” Lucifer said quickly, “come on, Jack, let's go.”

But Jack didn't listen. He simply looked at him.

“What does he mean?”

“I, uh, I don't, I don't know,” Lucifer stuttered.

“They had a deal,” Dean grunted, slowly standing up. “Lucifer gets you and Danni, and Michael gets everything else. Michael is going to destroy our world, just like he destroyed his.”

“Is that true?” Jack asked Lucifer.

“No! No, it's not.”

“Is that why you wanted us to leave?”

“Leave?” Sam repeated.

“He said we'll go and see the stars.”

“And leave the rest of us here to burn?” Castiel asked.

“Hey, I'm not the bad guy here currently.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to Maggie,” Sam said. 

“Maggie?” Jack asked. “What about Maggie?”

“She saw the eyes of the person who killed her.” Sam looked at Lucifer. “The glowing red eyes.”

“Is that true?” Jack asked again.

“Come on, son, Sam would say anything to get you on his side.”

“Tell me the truth!” Jack used his powers to force Lucifer to tell the truth. His eyes glowed golden under the influence of Jack’s power and he talked with a monotonous voice. 

“She saw me when I was scouting out the bunker. She saw me and she screamed. So I crushed her skull with my bare hands. And it was warm and wet and I liked it.”

Jack let go of him and looked at him with teary eyes.

“You're not my father. You're a monster.”

“Jack, don't say that,” Danni said to him.

“He is! I can see it now. You were wrong when you told me he isn't. Because he is!”

Enraged, Lucifer yelled at him with all his anger and it had the bunker shaking. Then he eyed his son.

“I tried with you. I really tried with you.”

“Everything you told me was a lie.”

“I told you what you wanted to hear. So what? I killed the girl. Big deal. She's a human! She doesn't matter!”

“So am I!”

“And that's your problem. You're too much like your mother. We could have been something, you and me. We could've remade the universe. It would've been great. And I wanted that, I really wanted that. But now I don't need you anymore. All I need is your power.”

His archangel blade quickly appeared and he slit Jack's neck. He stole his grace, leaving Jack depowered. Dean, Sam and Castiel rushed forward, but Danni was quicker. She grabbed Lucifer who was still holding on to Jack, and she teleported them away before one of the others could intervene. They landed in a church and that's when Danni saw Sam. He must have grabbed Jack before they teleported away. 

“Do you ever quit, Sam?” Lucifer asked.

“Go to hell.”

“Yeah, right. That joke is getting old, you know?” Lucifer let go of Jack who fell to the floor, weak as he was. Instead, he approached Sam and started to beat him up.

“Lucifer …”

He stopped and turned around and met Danni's concerned eyes. No one said his name like she did. With genuine affection. His father had left him, his brothers hated him, Jack abandoned him but she was still here.

“Lucifer, it's alright,” she said and slowly approached him. “They lost, you won. It's over. Let's just leave. Please.”

“Not yet. There's something I need to take care of before we can go. A lesson they need to learn.”

“Lucifer, whatever it is, it doesn't matter. Okay? Nothing really matters anymore but us, remember? No one else matters but you and me.” She clasped her hand around his and squeezed it. “And look at them. They're weak and you are stronger than ever. My brothers couldn't defeat or kill you before and now they wouldn't last a second with you having Jack's power. Don't waste your time with them. They can't stop you anyway. No one can. They don't matter, they're irrelevant. Let's just leave, Lucifer, please.”

He cupped her cheeks and pressed a heated kiss onto her lips. “We will. Just you and me, baby. But unlike you, they don't understand. They don't understand that family sucks.” He let go of her and looked at Sam and Jack. “I mean, what's family done for anybody? My dad left me. My brothers tried to kill me. A lot. Family blows. And I'm going to prove it to them.”

He dropped his archangel blade between Sam and Jack.

“So, one of you is going to walk out that door, and the other one will be lying dead on the ground. You choose. If you don't, I'll murder you both and end all life in the universe. Remake it in my image. But it will take a few days so maybe the survivor of this can stop me? So go ahead, clock's ticking, guys.”

“Danni, stop this,” Sam whispered. “You have powers, use them.”

“Not against him, Sam,” Danni said.

“Danni, please,” Sam pleaded.

“Oh now you like her again?” Lucifer asked. “When she's useful to you? But all this time you hated what she was. You and Dean, you saw nothing in her but the devil-loving abomination. Didn't you? Or why did you lie to her about Jack being trapped in the apocalypse world? Or left me behind there to rot?”

“Because we wanted to protect her from you.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, because I'm so evil and bloodthirsty.”

“You are! That's what you've always been and that's what you'll always be! Look at you, what you're doing to your own son. Someone like you doesn't deserve someone like Danni. She's not yours. She belongs to us, her brothers. Her family. She's my twin sister. And she always will be.”

“Wrong, Sammy. She'll always be my soulmate. She'll always be loyal to me.” To prove his point, he faced her again and pressed another kiss onto her lips. Then he eyed Sam and Jack again. “Come on, we don't have all the time in the world, hurry up.”

Suddenly, a bright light blinded them. It was Dean, now the vessel of Michael, showing Michael's wings. Lucifer walked into the middle of the church and looked at Dean.

“You let my brother in.”

“Well, turns out he and I have something in common. We want to gut your ass.”

“Dean, don't!” Danni wanted to step forward and help Lucifer but he stopped her.

“No. You stay back. I'll handle him.”

“But-”

“No. He's mine.”

Without further warning, he attacked Michael and both of them engaged in a fight. They were throwing each other across the church and even fought in mid-air. But Lucifer turned out to be stronger than Michael. He was beating him up and taunting Dean for even trying to compete against him. He began smiting him with his powers when Sam grabbed one of the archangel blades on the floor.

“Sam, no!” Danni yelled and raised her hand to push Sam away with her powers but she was too late and her brother had already tossed the blade to Dean. And he used it to stab Lucifer in the heart.

“No!” Danni yelled as fire started to pour out of Lucifer's eyes and his wound. He screamed in horrific agony before he died in a final flash of light. He dropped to the floor, and his corpse was surrounded by his burned wings. 

“No … no!” Danni rushed over to him and kneeled down beside him, grabbing his face. “No, no, no.” 

She pressed her hands on his wound, desperately trying to heal him. To save him. “Come on, Lucifer, come on.” But nothing happened. His essence was gone, burnt away.

“No. No, don't do this to me.” She stroked over his cheeks and pressed her lips on his. “Come on, open your eyes. Please. Look at me, Lucifer.” She eyed his face, waiting for a reaction. But there wasn't any. Danni shook her head as her hands were clinging on to his shirt.

“Come on!” Her desperate cry echoed from the walls of the church. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't. He had been there with her just a few moments ago and now he was gone. The tears were running down her face and she leaned over him, her forehead pressed against his. “You can't leave me alone, I love you,” she sobbed and cupped his cheeks, kissing him with her tear-stained lips. “You promised I won't lose you, Lucifer. You promised.”

[hao-and-yoh]

Shaman King - “Fractured Duality” - “Alt” Universe

Continued from here.

Episode Thirteen (3)

“He hasn’t changed one bit. He’s still just as obsessed with solving the unsolvable as I remember.”

“That’s truly wonderful to hear, Lyserg!” delightfully cried Yoh.

“My mother is well too. Though I think my call has unsettled her. My father, on the other hand, is determined I solve this case. He believes something more… sinister… may be afoot.” Lyserg adjusted the cap on his head slightly as he spoke, then he sighed deeply. “So it looks like I will be continuing this investigation before I fly back home.”

“Sinister?” repeated Yoh, blinking.

Lyserg nodded.

“Yes. He highlighted a key detail about our circumstances,” hesitantly went on the detective, “I am unsure if the same thing may have occurred to you, as well, Yoh.”

Yoh swallowed nervously as he recognised the cautious concern in Lyserg’s voice.

“Okay…” he mumbled in reply.

Lyserg stood up straight and began to pace the cabin, he placed one hand to his chin and looked down to the floor.

“If I “changed” over night… and I have no memories of the last 24 hours, or of my life with my parents in this world, then - what is to say the same thing has not happened to you?” Lyserg stopped pacing and shot a serious look at Yoh. “Or to any of the others?”

Lyserg’s words hung in the air for a moment. As the cogs began to turn in Yoh’s head, he suddenly realised Lyserg was onto something really significant.

“That… actually makes a lot of sense.” quietly muttered Yoh. “Chocolove said he “woke up” on tour as a professional performer. What if he had a life in this world too, but he just doesn’t remember?”

Yoh watched as Lyserg approached the window to observe their friends all casually conversing outside.

“What were the circumstances for the others? HoroHoro? Manta? Ren? Jeanne?” he asked with a serious tone.

“HoroHoro seems to be from this world, same with Manta.” hastily replied Yoh, “But, now that you mention it… when we met Ren…”

Lyserg turned around and instantly met Yoh’s worried eyes.

“Yoh?”

“It was really weird.” worriedly explained Yoh, “Bason’s memories were completely different. It was like something had changed whilst Bason was away. En and Jun were not in the Castle, either.”

A silence grew between the two friends. Yoh approached Lyserg’s side and looked out into the woodland outside. His eyes fell on his twin standing beside HoroHoro. He smiled a bit as he watched the fire and ice shaman pair laughing together like they did not have a care in the world.

“Could it be possible…” slowly began Lyserg, breaking their observational silence, “…that someone, or something, is deliberately “changing” our identities? Or perhaps, our memories?”

Yoh felt a pang in his chest as Lyserg described his own truth almost perfectly. Though he managed to not show it on his face. He was desperate to blurt out how he was in fact a dual minded individual, how he was different from all the others. But as he fixated his eyes on his twin once more - he remembered what they’d been trying to achieve from the very beginning, and speaking the truth now, so late into everything, felt somewhat wrong.

Then another uncomfortable worry began to emerge in Yoh’s heart. And that overbearing sense of dread began to return.

“Lyserg.” said Yoh, firmly. “I know things are still raw but… I really need to talk to you about last night.”

Yoh stepped away from the window so he was out of view from the others. Lyserg decided to do the same.

“It’s okay,” sighed the detective, “Please continue.”

“Do you remember everything that happened?”

“I remember waking up hearing screaming and seeing the oni. I remember everything that happened after that, but - I have no memory from before I went to sleep.”

Yoh thought about it before asking another question.

“Do you think it’s possible someone broke into our cabin when we were all sleeping?” he asked, worriedly.

“Maybe.” muttered Lyserg, he looked up at the ceiling for a moment as he searched his acute sharp mind. “Though if this is the result of some sort of “spell”, it doesn’t mean the caster had to be in close proximity. But, we shouldn’t rule it out as a possibility.”

Yoh smiled, impressed.

“Yeah. You’re right. Good detective work, Lyserg!”

Lyserg laughed a bit.

“Heh, I get it from my father. ‘Do not always assume the first obvious answer is the correct one.’ It’s just a theory, for now.”

A silence grew between them. Then Lyserg’s smile dropped as his mind returned to the worrying nature of their conversation.

“Yoh. I hate to say this… and I know how this is going to sound coming from me but, what if… this “spell” has happened to Hao, too? Or you? It could affect any of us.”

Lyserg’s words felt like a punch to Yoh’s gut. His eyes drifted back towards the window. A flicker of pain appeared on his face as his mind fell back on the terrifying sight of seeing his brother’s delirium from the night before.

“I am worried about Hao.” he breathed, sadly. “He’s been acting really strange for a while. He’s been having some weird dreams too. Talking in his sleep.”

Lyserg raised an eyebrow as Yoh revealed more interesting and worrying facts about their situation.

“Has he talked to you about this?”

Yoh sadly shook his head.

“No. But last night, for the first time, I think he said a name.”

“What name?”

“Zeke.”

A short foreboding silence grew again. Lyserg watched as Yoh’s face crumpled slightly as the pair of them began to put the pieces of the puzzle together one by one.

“Have you heard this name before?” gently asked the English shaman, seeing the worry in his friend’s eyes made him try a more sensitive approach to the scenario.

Yoh took in a short sharp inhale.

“No! And he doesn’t seem to remember anything from his dreams either! He… does seem to be back to his usual self this morning - maybe a little quieter than normal but - that’s understandable, I guess!”

Yoh took a deep breath in as he almost ran out of air as he hastily rambled on about his concerns. The delicate features of his inter-dimensional friend standing opposite him softened slightly.

“I can see you really care about him.” said the softly spoken detective shaman with a gentle smile.

Yoh’s eyes glazed over as he recognised the sincerity and acceptance in Lyserg’s voice.

“I do Lyserg.” whispered Yoh, he looked down to his feet as he spoke. “He’s my brother. My best friend. I don’t know what I’d do if…”

Lyserg paused. He watched as Yoh’s shoulders dropped, and it seemed like he was deliberately hiding his face behind his hair to obscure his broken expression.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” gently replied Lyserg. He took a step forward and placed a reassuring hand on his good friend’s shoulder. Yoh lifted his head and met Lyserg’s gentle gaze.

“The evidence we have so far does not suggest that Hao is experiencing the same symptoms as what may have happened to me, or the others. But we should keep a close eye on the situation. And, I will do everything in my power to get us to the Village as quickly as possible so we can figure out why this is happening to us all.”

Yoh sniffed deeply and wiped his face with his palm. He then beamed a smile at the detective who was smiling kindly back at him.

“Thank you, Lyserg.”

Lyserg tilted his head to one side as the pair shared a happy peaceful exchange. Then Lyserg dropped his arm back down to his side, before he sighed deeply.

“One last thing,” he went on, “We haven’t addressed the last person in our group.”

“Oh?” muttered Yoh, blinking. “Who did we forget to talk about?”

“You, Yoh.” firmly answered the detective.

“Oh, uh…”

“Jeanne told me how both you and Hao recall being in another world, but there was a “shift” in your reality - and you found yourselves in a world like yours, but your friends did not remember you.”

“Yeah. Yeah that’s right!” confirmed Yoh.

“So - it sounds to me like perhaps this “spell” has happened to you already. But the complicated factor remains, you and Hao both seem to recall a different world entirely to the one myself and the others remember.”

Yoh felt that uncomfortable pang in his chest once more as the detective in front of him began to get closer and closer to the truth.

“Yeah…” he mumbled, awkwardly.

“So what this brings me to question is - why? Why would there be a differing factor like this?”

A silence grew between them once more, then Yoh forced a smile once again.

“That’s a really good question Lyserg. It’s so great that you’re here! I’m sure with you around, we’ll figure all this stuff out in no time!”

Lyserg smiled happily in response.

“That’s kind of you to say. Thank you. I’ll keep working on my theory, but - I can’t shake the feeling that perhaps all this is linked somehow. Our realities colliding, the “strange coincidences” we have found ourselves in, the Shaman Fight’s “cancellation” in this world - the oni… Hao’s weird dreams. It’s an exciting mystery! My father will be so pleased with me if I succeed solving this!”

Lyserg beamed a delighted smile at Yoh. But then, Yoh suddenly remembered something,

“Lyserg, what about your client?”

Lyserg brought himself back into the room and blinked.

“What about him?”

“You mentioned the “strange coincidences”. You don’t remember meeting that client you told us about. Did you ask your father about him?”

“Yes. He confirmed what you told me. We have an open case for a client who is looking for a “shaman” and has requested I seek out the Patch Village.”

Yoh bit his lip to try and stop his words from blurting out of his mouth, but he couldn’t help it, they came flooding out anyway,

“I know you said you can’t really talk about him but… what if that “client” is the one behind all this?!”

Lyserg’s brow furrowed at Yoh’s words.

“That’s called “jumping to conclusions”, Yoh.”

Yoh craned his head back and he bounced on the spot impatiently.

“I know, I know… but - don���t you think it seems really suspicious?”

Lyserg paused as he considered Yoh’s words.

“I agree it’s suspicious…” he replied hesitantly, “…and I’ll give it some careful consideration as part of my working theory. But we shouldn’t go drawing such rash conclusions just yet. There’s too many unknowns.”

Yoh froze for a moment, then he exhaled deeply, defeated.

“Okay…” he muttered, sadly. Then his mind fell back on his equal determination to crack the case, “Is there anything I can do? To help with this “investigation”?”

Lyserg thought about it for a moment, then he nodded.

“I think your priority right now should be on Hao. I know you’re worried about him, so - perhaps you should try asking him about his odd dreams. See if he remembers anything about the name “Zeke”. We should start by ruling out all the insignificant unimportant details.”

Yoh nodded determinedly in response.

“Got it. Sure thing.”

*****

As the samurai and detective shaman pair stepped back outside to rejoin their friends, both were equally surprised to see the enormous bright yellow beastly form of the Spirit of Onmyōdō waiting for them - and the faces of all their friends gathered on its shoulders waiting to depart.

“You guys took your time!” called the delighted voice of the ice shaman from high above the forest treetops.

Yoh and Lyserg exchanged a stunned look with one another before looking back at the giant spirit. They watched in disbelief as the enormous golden hand of Hao’s Spirit Ally came towards them to elevate them up to the others.

Stepping aboard, they were swiftly reunited with the group. Yoh instantly met the sparkling and joyful expression of his twin holding out his hand towards him to assist him onto his gigantic airborne spirit.

“Hao…” whispered Yoh with a slight smile. Seeing his big brother’s welcoming and happy face made Yoh’s earlier anxieties almost wash away completely.

Yoh happily took his brother’s hand, who instantly pulled him aboard to stand by his side.

“I told the others the truth.” happily sighed the elder Asakura brother.

“Yeah - Yoh! I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us all this time!” shouted HoroHoro with an amused chuckle.

“The truth? Really?” blinked Yoh, stunned.

“Yes. And now that we’re all finally back together again - I’m taking us all straight to the Village.”

“Oh.” muttered Yoh, “But - but - Hao, I really needed to talk to you about - ”

“Don’t worry, Yoh.” interrupted Asakura Zeke. “It’ll all work out when we get there. I’m sure of it. We’re so close! Let’s not waste any more time.”

Continue here.

Enter “Alt” Universe here.

Read “Fractured Duality” here.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Looking for Answers

Summary: No One Knows AU Part 24, Tucker decides he's ready to know what's going on.

...

“Tucker, I still don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Sam says.

“What’s the harm in it?” Tucker asks.  “It’s not like I’m walking right up to Danny and telling him everything we know and everything we’ve done wrong.”

“We haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Sam.  I’m asking Vlad to show me everything he has on Danny, and how he knows he’s evil.  I need more evidence than we have to believe that he is.”

“How about ‘he tried to kill me at Circus Gothica?’  Is that not pretty iron-clad evidence?”

“That’s where I’m starting,” Tucker says.  It’s the first thing he’s said to Sam that isn’t a lie.

Well, second.  He really isn’t going to talk to Danny.  Danny asked for space.  And this is a problem of Tucker’s own making.  He needs to figure out how to fix it.

But he’s not talking to Vlad, either.  He knows Sam trusts Vlad wholeheartedly, but something has always felt a little off about him to Tucker.  Why keep so much hidden?  Why not engage with Danny directly, and make Tucker and Sam do all of the confronting?  Why not tell Valerie who they are?  Why upgrade both of their suits at once, instead of leaving one of them with them, and making sure they can protect themselves at least somewhat?  Too many questions are piling up, to the point that it’s all building to an intense feeling of his instincts screaming at him “Don’t talk to Vlad.”

And Tucker is done not listening to his instincts.

“I still don’t like this,” Sam says, pulling Tucker back out of his head.  “What if you start poking around and Danny finds out, and realizes we’re onto him?”

“I’ll be careful,” Tucker says.  “I can handle it.  I handled you and Danny both being hurt and unconscious, didn’t I?”

Sam glares at him, but Tucker doesn’t take it back.

“I’ll tell you what I learn,” he says instead.  “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“You better,” Sam says, still glaring at him.  Tucker gives her a look and leaves.

Her parents probably aren’t going to keep her locked up for too long.  She’s not as hurt as Danny was, after all, and she still needs to go to school.  In fact, Sam’s suit took the brunt of the damage, and whatever Vlad did to upgrade it apparently did its job, because the suit had looked mostly unharmed too.

Tucker waves to Sam’s parents as he leaves, who give him at least a polite wave back.  He’s pretty sure they like that he made sure Sam was okay.  It’s gained him some points with them.

That’s not something Tucker has time to focus on, though.

So, Circus Gothica.  Sam’s right in that it’s the most damning evidence in regards to Danny being evil.  But if Tucker’s really running with his instincts that Danny’s not a monster (and he is), then something else had to be going on.  The first and most helpful thing to do is probably figure out what happened there.

And since only two people were watching Danny closely at that point, and one of them is the ringmaster now in jail, and the other is the only one of them who has confirmed access to some kind of recording devices, Tucker starts by heading to the training grounds to look for anything Vlad has on the topic.  If Vlad’s there, he’ll just pretend like he’s there for training, and that the last battle finally changed his mind in regards to Danny in the opposite direction to how it actually did.  If he’s not, well, there’s got to be something in those training grounds he hasn’t found yet.  If it’s actually Vlad’s base of operations while he’s here, there’s not enough technology in the main base to know everything he knows.

Unless it’s back in Wisconsin, where he said he came from.  Man, if that’s the case, this is going to be a lot harder.

Tucker shakes himself.  Worry about that later.

Thankfully, when he gets to the training grounds, no one’s there, and the training grounds are almost silent.  In fact, the only sound is coming from the chain of one of the punching bags, gently swinging back and forth.  Everything looks perfectly in order, and there’s nothing that he isn’t expecting to see.

But there has to be something.  There’s no way Vlad upgraded their suits with just the things in this room.  Unless he really did take them all the way back to Wisconsin, which is still a possibility.  But why go so far away, and risk something happening while he was gone?

Tucker, after a moment’s hesitation, twists his suit on and flies up by the ceiling obstacle course, as good a place to start as any.  Nothing seems out of the ordinary, and if there was something there to find, they would have found it any of the number of the times they’d used the course itself.

Tucker had blasted a punching back against the wall before, so those are out, along with the ghost targets, which are meant to be hit.  The Danny dummies went up after everything else in here, so thankfully, those are out too, and Tucker doesn’t have to spend time looking too closely at them.  He never wants to see those things again.

That leaves the room itself as the only thing he can reasonably expect to find something in.  There’s a lot of space along the walls that’s designed to get hit by something.  The walls behind the ghost targets have dents and burns.  The walls behind the sparring ring have padding.  The walls on the other side of the ceiling obstacle course have boarded up windows.

Tucker turns to face the one wall separated off a little bit, which is the area with the chairs to sit in.  Right now, the only one sitting there is Vlad’s larger one.  So where did the two smaller ones go?

Tucker twists his bracelet, retracting his suit into it, and walks over to look at the wall there.  Unfortunately for his room theory, there’s nothing that could possibly lead to a hidden compartment or room or anything of the sort.  In fact, the wall is so plain and smooth that there don’t seem to even be any differences in paint.  Tucker bites his lip, staring at it for a moment.  There has to be something here.  But if it’s not on the wall, he can’t think of anywhere else it could be.  Nowhere Vlad would expect them not to touch.

Realization strikes Tucker, and he turns to face Vlad’s chair.  He takes a breath, then walks over and sits down in it.  He’s not as tall as Vlad, but he starts feeling around for similar places Vlad could reach while sitting in it, and—

There.  A button underneath the arm.  Tucker presses it.

A soft click, and Tucker looks to his right to see the entire smooth wall slide back, and reveal a long staircase.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, and twists his suit back on.  Then he stands and walks over, starting slowly down the steps.  He doesn’t hear any voices coming from down there, so Vlad probably still isn’t there.

The staircase makes a u-turn halfway down, and leads back into what must be the basement of the house.  As soon as Tucker makes the turn, he can see the bottom of the staircase open out into a wide room.  It looks like a lab of some kind, with various machines and consoles and scrap material laid out.  Tucker couldn’t hope to have the time to understand what all of it’s for.

Instead, he heads for a table in the middle of the room, with large stacks of papers laid out on top of it.  Tucker pulls one over at random and peers at it.  Originally he was just planning on searching for information on Circus Gothica, but there’s clearly more than that going on here.  What he finds, however, sticks to his original plan.

He’s holding a sketch of the staff he remembers Freakshow using, along with detailed explanations of how it’s possible the staff can control ghosts.  Vlad’s written down several theories in regards to how, but the page ends with much more frustrated rambles, seeming irritated that he can’t come to a conclusion.

But for as much as he can’t, this certainly explains a lot for Tucker.  He takes a deep breath, tries not to get caught on the idea of Danny being mind controlled by that Freakshow guy for who knows how long, and sets the paper aside to grab later.  He’ll need to show that one to Sam.

The next paper he grabs is several scribbled attempts at poetry that seem to be dedicated to Danny’s mother.  Tucker pulls back in disgust, and sets that paper as far away from him as he can get it.

The page after that seems to be designs for his, Sam’s and Valerie’s suits.  They include detailed schematics of how the suits work, none of which is too surprising to Tucker, except for the parts of the designs that include spy cameras.

Okay, so that’s not great.  Not loving the implication that Vlad has been spying on the three of them while they fight Danny, and— and talk to Danny, and fight with each other.

Tucker sets that paper aside and shakes himself.  Move on, deal with guilt and emotions later.

The next page is a schematic for his and Sam’s upgrades.  Which… doesn’t seem to have any upgrades to weapons, or armor capability, or flight.  Instead it details an explanation of how the suits can be used to control the heart rate, breathing, and body of the wearer.

Oh fuck, Tucker has to get out of here.

He grabs all of the pages he’s read, holds them close to his chest, and turns—

Right into Vlad’s waiting gaze.

“Hello, my boy,” Vlad says, as Tucker’s heart stops in his chest.  “And what exactly are you doing down here?”

“V-Vlad, hey,” Tucker says, hating how obvious the fear in his voice is.  “F-funny story, actually.  So I, uh, I tripped, and fell right into your chair, and it opened the wall, and I just wanted to see what cool stuff you have down here in your lab, so I—”

Vlad puts a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, and Tucker stops, staring wide eyed up at him.

“Well, I suppose this brings the need for a charade to an end,” Vlad says.  “Come with me.”

“I don’t—”

Vlad reaches inside his coat, pulls out a small remote, and presses a button on it.  Tucker’s arms stiffen and lock in place at his sides, and when Vlad starts walking, he feels himself follow.

“I was hoping I would have more time before moving into this phase,” Vlad says, as if Tucker can hear him over the thumping of his heart in his chest.  “But I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

Then, as Tucker watches, a black ring appears around Vlad’s waist, travels up to his head, and answers the only question Tucker had left.

“Y-you’re Plasmius,” he manages.

Vlad Plasmius gives him an amused look.  “Well, it took you long enough to catch on to that,” he says.  “I’ll admit, I don’t know what Daniel saw in you in the first place.  Surely there are better companions out there than a couple of idiots who drop him the first second someone who’s halfway decent at manipulation comes along.  But, ah well, hardly the point.  Though I don’t imagine Daniel would care enough to come here if it’s just you in danger, after all this.  Tell me my boy, how would you feel about kidnapping his sister?  And remember that your opinion is irrelevant.”

Tucker can’t even manage to get enough breath in to formulate some form of response.

“I think that will work well enough,” Vlad says, turning and pressing a couple of buttons on the console to his left.  “Of course we’ll need to keep Samantha away from the duration of this one.  Can’t let her go thinking it’s your fault Jazz goes missing, can we?  And I think we’ll skip the talking, just in case.”  He presses another button on Tucker’s suit, and the next second, Tucker can’t open his mouth.

Vlad turns and walks back over towards Tucker, and pulls up the visor over his eyes.  He smiles in amusement at the terror that’s definitely clear in them.

“You know, this might be fun after all,” he says.  “Now let’s get moving.”

…

Sam, from her spot listening to the entire exchange on the steps, takes that as her cue to turn and run as fast as she can back up to the training area, while still being quiet as she does so.  Her heart is in her throat, and her hand, ironically, is twisting the bracelet on her wrist back and forth as she runs, to the point that it’s started tearing up the bandage on her wrist.

She makes it, somehow, through the training grounds and outside, and keeps sprinting until she makes her way to an alleyway she can duck into.  She has just enough time to press herself back against the wall before she sees Tucker fly past the alley on his suit.  She’s going to have to pray he didn’t see her, which is a far cry different from her original goal of sneaking after him to make sure she could protect him if she needed to.

The next second, she looks down at her bracelet.  Her immediate instinct is to tear it off and crush it under her shoe, but that will definitely alert Vlad that something’s wrong.

No, she has to keep it on for now.  She has to— she has to do something.  She has to— what can she do, she doesn’t even have a weapon she can use because every weapon she has access to can be taken over against her will except— except—

Sam squeezes the bracelet on her wrist tightly.  She pulls in as deep a breath as she can manage after having her world so completely and thoroughly shattered, and leaves the alleyway to start running home.

[golbrocklovely]

it's been a minute since i posted one of these so..

here’s some of colby’s tweets from 2021.

i don’t have proof that these are his tweets, but believe me, they are his.

if it’s bold and italicized, it’s someone’s tweet to him.

if it’s in (), that’s just me commenting lol

added bonus: if they have a * next to them, that means it’s been deleted

~~~~~~~~~~

Jan. 2 - thank you all so much i love you don’t forget

Jan. 6 - just got yelled at on my walk by a 93 year old grandma it was dope how’s your day goin

on another note , so sad to see what’s been happening today at the capitol .. this is ridiculous. i’m worried.

(the issue with this time period is that colby was getting a lot of heat for shit he shouldn't have been. so… some of these tweets are gonna trigger me, and this is one of them lmao)

Jan. 8 - seems like the older i get the more independent i become

*@/mikes_dead: seems like the older u get the more u forget to call me back headass sorry bb 🖤

don’t crave that personal life human affection like i used to i’m cool with being by myself

always feel like i’m living in a dreamy reality until i get caffeine. blurry vision blurry mind

Jan. 9 - learned how to drive manual for the first then drifted that car today i’m surprised i didn’t kill anyone

you in January

Jan. 12 - fan: hi i love yOu…@/ColbyBrock

hiii i love you

fan: It’s my 2,000 day supporting Sam and colby. That’s fucking insnae man. Mental. I love you 2. Always and forever thank you for being such huge parts in my life @/SamGolbach @/ColbyBrock @/SamandColby

thank you for being a part of our life journey 🙏🏼🖤

Jan. 14 - time to conquer my anxiety

Jan. 16 - tonight , two years ago i was sleeping in a little jail cell wondering how long i’d be in there without Sam. life is fuckin crazy hahah, freedom is a gift

fan: i cant believe that most of the fandom slept on the floor when @/SamandColby 2 years when they got arrested #FreeSamAndColby

the best fans in the world

Jan. 18 - oh how time can heal and change everything

fan: no fr he’s been working so hard and you can really tell. proud of you @/ColbyBrock

thank you darlin

Jan. 19 - my fear won’t be something that i let control the way i live

Jan. 20 - fan: colby ur tweets r always so deep

twitters my personal little mind dump

(wish this was still the case… but i get why he is barely on there)

Jan. 22 - it’s underwater shipwreck dive today

feels good to feel proud of myself

Jan. 24 - fan: @/ColbyBrock can you teach me your ways of being okay with being single bc i’m tired of asshole guys fucking around with my feelings

one day you’ll learn that the only happiness you need comes from within, once you’ve learned to really enjoy youre own company you don’t need anyone else! practice makes perfect 🖤

Jan. 25 - why do i push away everyone who tries to get me to open up?

(what a juxtaposition lol)

Jan. 28 - crows are honestly just death metal chickens

Jan. 30 - don’t wanna jinx this like last time but XPLR gods have definitely been on our side recently again … Alaska has been an adventure of a lifetime

Feb. 1 - don’t let anyone tell you who YOU are and how to think

fan: Currently listening to We Love Our Friends @/SamGolbach @/ColbyBrock @/SamandColby

a bop

Feb. 2 - fan: Thinking about @/ColbyBrock hours

💭🖤

*fan: @/ColbyBrock u should get a tongue piercingggg

*ouchh

fan: As part of 25x25 @/ColbyBrock needs to come out with music

🤫😏

(he needs to come out with more music asap)

*fan: @/ColbyBrock u said no to the tongue piercing what about u getting a nipple piercing??

ouchhh

(what's with fans wanting him to get random parts of his body pierced lmao)

wake me up after valentine’s day

Feb. 4 - what’s one thing you wanna do before you die ?

Feb. 7 - my dream is to show you the beauty in life .. no matter how hard it can get

really opened up on my ongoing experience with anxiety in today’s video , i hope it resonates with some of you. we’re not alone

Feb. 8 - fan: bro @/ColbyBrock do you always get your tats in the early hours of the morning??

yes hahah

just gettin started on this sleeve. lots of work to do

Feb. 10 - fan: @/ColbyBrock I need some advice for anxiety lately my anxiety is playing up and I keeps having anxiety/panics attacks and idk how to calm my self the best thing I can do so far is watch ur vids but still sometimes I just can’t hold it in do u have any advice

box method breathing really helps.. soft music.. meditation. anything that can relax the mind. usually it stems from overthinking so if you can somehow distract yourself with an activity of some sort that could help too 🖤

i’m so emotional sometimes and for what

Feb. 13 - so who’s down to hangout tomorrow

fan: i could really use a hug from @/ColbyBrock rn /: sigh i miss him sm

🖤 sending virtual hugs

fan: Hey Colby … just checking in…. are you okay? Taking care of yourself? @/ColbyBrock

thank you for being so sweet i love you. yes i’m okay i have my good and bad days

Feb. 17 - sang for the first time on camera yesterday

Feb. 20 - this pill that i don’t wanna taste

fan: Are you okay??? Or one of your song lyrics

song lyrics .. probably should have explained that a lil more. it’s not a literal thing i promise hahah

Feb. 22 - damn i miss the big trap house parties we use to throw at our old place. 500 people plus in our living room.. David dobrik always comin in randomly with flame throwers hahah legendary times

Feb. 24 - i was so happy in my dream last night .. felt so real.

simply a wonderful sight to see

Feb. 28 - Dear @/ColbyBrock I would REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU DYED YOUR HAIR BACK TO BROWN I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT

my purple is pretty much out ! so it’ll be all the way brown soon

fan: Apparently the guys are in Las Vegas and Las Vegas is probably like oh no not these guys again. @/ColbyBrock don't go for a midnight stroll and almost get mugged or kick a cactus this time

palm springs was when the mugging and cactus assault happened hahah but we will do our best to stay outta trouble .. maybe

March 2 - i feel like i don’t fit in with that many people in LA

@/jccaylen: let’s move to Texas.

looking for houses now

March 6 - take a chance with me

head down, headphones in

March 8 - happy #InternationalWomensDay , women are fuckin powerful, thank you for all that you do

(another triggering tweet sksks)

March 10 - maybe i just knew i had to wait for you

March 15 - fan: I just know deep in my soul @ColbyBrock had an angsty sad boi tumblr back in the day and I just wanna scroll thru it. Sir pls hand me the link thx :)

i wish i had tumblr. but wasn’t in to social media until i was like 18. only had a facebook until 2014

(….interesting lol)

fan: @/ColbyBrock do u have any advice on keeping productive on something even though it isn’t ur favourite thing to do but u need to get it done

set goals and make sure you do things in little pieces. if you don’t like something you’re doing just make sure you’re getting it done in the way YOU want to. take it day by day instead of procrastinating and doing it last minute

fan: y r u awake @/colbybrock

same reason you are

March 16 - things change, people change. but in the end i’ll always wish the best for my friends

March 17 - i can’t help but feel this way

March 18 - fan: How can you get through a break up

time. i know that’s a cliche answer. but seriously. distract your mind for a while and you’ll get over it i promise

fan: @/ColbyBrock how often do you not sleep at night because your mind is too loud?

i sleep terribly most nights. i have this weird insomnia that forces me to be up at 3am daily

are any of you hard on yourself for no reason? cause holy shit that’s me daily

fan: Better at picking others up than picking myself up

feel this so hard

fan: please call me sweetheart its my dream deadass

sweeeeeetheart 🖤

fan: @/ColbyBrock what’s your best advice to give to a teen who’s gonna turn 17 next week ? like any tips or tricks you wanna hand down bc i need help

so assuming you’re in highschool, just know that you might think your social circle means the world to you right now .. but everything can change (if you let it) after you graduate. life changes so much after graduation! focus on making good relationships and having fun :)

fan: @/ColbyBrock what’s the first thing you’ll do after all this covid stuff is over?

throw a real trap house party

March 25 - i am becoming a hummingbird father.

@/amberscholl: idk why but this is a VERY hot tweet

can’t wait to show you what i’ve been doing 😈

March 27 - just don’t have the time anymore

March 29 - friday by rebecca black is my anthem

March 30 - should i curl my hair for a youtube video

[awaffledreamer]

A Bridgerton Tale

Based on The Bridgerton series on Netflix and by Julia Quinn. This is a fanfiction story based on "An Offer from a Gentleman", Benedict Bridgerton's story. I'm not the best writer but these are just outlines for a story that I thought would be great for Benedict's character. If interested, I could see about writing more for FanFiction. Changed some of the characters names for this story but I just had to share it.

We know the story. We have seen the plotlines. We watch the timeline. We understand the assignment. There is a girl. There is a boy. There is a missing shoe. The girl is mistreated at home. The boy believes he must do more to improve himself. They meet. They are captivated by each other. One runs away. The other runs toward them. They meet once more. And fall in love.

Please. How many times does this story need to be re-told? How about a little…spice?

Outline of story: Benedict Bridgerton is an artist. Doesn’t want anyone to take that from him but unfortunately he takes it away from himself. Not wanting his family to pay his dues, or his way, he declines offer after offer believing he is not worthy of such things.

Nora Huntington is the law. After the tragic loss of her mother at a picnic, her father steps into the shadows with no ambition to come back into the light. She is left taking care of her two siblings, sister and brother while also taking care of the family business. Constables. They are the law. No one is exempt from it, not even the Crown. She laughs, she loves, but she doesn’t see the world in color anymore. Only black/white. She has hope that her siblings can move on from this life and see the world as it should be seen. Not in bloodiness or madness.

There is a ball. Girls are dancing their way into men’s hearts. Men are eyeing the prize. Nora’s sister wants to partake in the dances to see about a husband. Nora’s brother wants to tag along. Nora has so much already on her plate with a few cases taking over Mayfair but she agrees to take them. Not knowing much of the society rules for she doesn’t need them as a constable.

Benedict has taken the role in helping his sister, Hyacinth, find a match. He approaches the ball with his mother, Lady Violet Bridgerton, his older brother and his wife Viscount Anthony & Viscountess Kate and of course his other brother Colin and his wife Penelope. Benedict helps as much as he can but he is also trying to get away from expectant mamas trying to secure a match for their daughters with him. He stays close to his mother but mamas are reluctant to say the least.

Nora sees everything. She can look at a person and see where they were in the last 24 hours, whom they were with, what they had to eat, and how the person grew up without ever meeting them in the first place. She has a gift. To her, it’s a curse. But she sees is just the same and it works for her…in some cases. She tries to let her sister work out the dances with the men, but Nora can’t seem to help deduce the men that are dancing with her sister.

Her sister has picked a partner to dance with. Nora is trying to get a good read on him but must move to the other side of the dance floor when she accidentally bumps into a man. She apologies without looking up. As she is talking she finally turns around and splash! Colors beyond the imagination floods her mind as she sees the most dashing, carefree, smiliest man she has ever laid her eyes on. She is deducing too much of this man while at the same time, everything is calm in her mind. How can such a person send her on a whirlwind and then bring peace at the same time?

Her brother seems to be intrigued with Hyacinth, so Nora and Benedict must see each other more often than she would have liked, but she relishes the day if she is to be honest with herself.

Throughout the times, she is proven herself to be reliant, self sufficient, and able to be the best shot in the ton. She also takes down 4 men who try to steal from the Bridgertons showcasing she can fight. Come to find out before she became a constable she was going to tour as a cellist with her beau, Archibald. A man so stunning, even the Queen has to do a double take. She plays the cello for the first time since her mother’s death to the surprise to herself, but to everyone around her including Benedict. {Plays Paint It Black orchestral classical piece}

She has trouble deciding on whom now to put her heart towards for Archibald brought passion, but really nothing else. Benedict brings passion, but also an ease to the mind, and more color to her world. While she is daydreaming of dancing with the two, like deciding which one brings her the most joy, she plays on her cello Vivaldi Storm by 2CELLOS. Her father finally comes out of the shadows to help, he reminds her of how much her mother helped him. He was a storm with cases and the only person to still those storms was her mother reading a passage in a book, or making him laugh with a joke or two. When Nora hears this, she instantly choose Benedict. {In the background, you can hear 2CELLOS play Hallelujah} Nora rides her horse to the Bridgerton house to find Benedict in the backyard painting again. He hasn’t painted in a while, and he is loving it. When he finishes he looks up and see her. He smiles. She doesn’t return the smile. He hesitates for a moment until she runs to him and kisses him. They sway back and forth turning this way, basically dancing while kissing. Total make out scene.

She works on a certain case that has her stumped. She figures it out with the help of her father who comes back to life to help with the securing of the betrothal of Hyacinth and his son, while seeing who this Benedict is who has captured Nora’s heart.

When Nora gets ready to head into battle, she goes to Benedict, kisses him and says, “You brought color back to me. I saw only black and white. You…you showed me more colors than I could ever imagine. Every feeling has a particular color to it and if I had time I would tell you what each one means. I was a blank canvas for so long and you just waltz in and create something magical. You bring calmness to my storm of a mind. I am now a burst of color because of you and I love you for it.” She leaves to protect him. To protect Mayfair of course, but now it’s to protect him. Her wonder of wonders.

She gets harmed in the face but it doesn’t not matter to him. Benedict still asks her to marry him. He takes all of her, her many scars, her busy mind, all of it. She walked down the aisle to the song Perfect by Ed Sheeran played by 2CELLOS.

[hajimsblog]

It wasn't uncommon for Iowa to be late. In fact, it was expected. However, when she came in to work early for once, it put Povi off.

Especially after the night before. Although she wasn't there herself, Povi knew that Iowa had gone out drinking. Surely someone as irresponsible as Iowa would have overdone it? It would certainly explain the scowl. But what it wouldn't explain was the sudden tightness of his clothing.

For as long as Povi had known him, Iowa never dressed properly for any professional environment. Even though forensics required a lab coat, it was always baggy on the shorter boy. But today, that not so short boy's arms were clearly straining the material.

"What the hell..."

"Iowa" paid no mind towards Povi and her gawking. Much like his sudden appearance change, he was far more serious today and started on work immediately. He hadn't even bothered to greet the other worker in the room, setting HER off too.

As his partner, Povi felt obligated to say something. But she found the absence of Iowa's goofy attitude to be very off-putting. Maybe even scary. Still, she couldn't be a coward forever, especially in the line of work she chose. Slowly, she approached the taller boy. But before she could say anything, "Iowa" grabbed her approaching hand without even looking at her.

"Some of us are trying to work. You can interrogate me later," he says before immediately releasing Povi's trembling arm.

In the sudden silence, only Povi's quickened breathing and the odd sound of fabric tearing could be heard. Not wanting to upset her far more muscular partner, Povi scurries away and out of Iowa's workspace. Of course, he doesn't spare her retreating form even a single glance.

Povi continued to back out before turning on her heel and searching for her superior. As a mere intern, that would be the detective that she worked under. The detective, who was sitting at her desk, looked up and immediately noticed the stressed look on Povi's face.

"Th-There's... What's wrong with Iowa?" Povi says, her voice trembling just as much as her legs. Even now, the blonde continued to use that obviously fake name. The detective blinks, glancing into the workspace. Even from the distance, the detective was able to see that the boy was hunched over far more than usual. Although, she didn't see the big deal in just that, clearly there was something more. He was definitely taller than he usually was. But the detective wouldn't put it past the boy to randomly wear heels one day. He was the type to be insecure.

"I don't want to work with him today! Please don't put us on the next case!"

It wasn't often that Povi put on requests. At least, not ones this drastic. Although the girl often looked uncomfortable when working with Iowa, she never outright stated that she didn't want to be partnered with him. Even though the detective wasn't sure what it was yet, she did know that something was clearly wrong. Nodding her head a bit, the detective distractedly approves Povi's request. At the same time, she slowly rose from her desk to get a better look at "Iowa."

The closer she got, the more it became apparent that the boy was going to loom over her at full height, which should be impossible from someone who could barely reach her chest a mere 24 hours ago. However, he hadn't JUST gotten taller. Although he was facing his work, the detective could still see that he looked older as well. Although the baby fat on his cheeks was still there, it was far less prominent now.

Iowa turned to face the staring detective with an uncharacteristically bored look.

"Can you move," He "asks," adding a "please" when he remembered that he was still a mere intern. Bewildered by the sudden change, the detective complies to his demand. However, as soon as she snaps back to reality, she comes closer again.

"You're not Iowa, are you?"

"Iowa's" eyes flicker past the detective and towards her partner waiting outside of the door. He sucks in a breath before standing to his full height. Just like the detective guessed, he was indeed taller than her.

"Iowa's taking a break," he says, his voice slurring a bit.

"Name's Chiono, I'll be taking over for now."

[olderjodijournals]

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Hopefully, 2009 will be the year we buy a land/package deal in the desert and “go home!” If not, then I hope we’ll at least be on that yellow brick road.

We watched the ball go down in Times Square as I like to do. The ball was really cool looking this year with changing colors and all that.

Last night turned out to be quieter than expected. Jesse or the houses up at the summit or both were shooting off some firecrackers on and off from just after 11:00 to right before midnight, but strangely enough, midnight was pretty quiet. I really thought we’d hear some kind of a grand finale, but nope.

The dogs ended up being quieter than expected too, since Jesse was probably getting shit-faced at some bar for the most part. There were just a few scattered barks that were a little annoying, but nothing maddening. Tomorrow’s when things will probably be maddening. I was kind of surprised the firecrackers didn’t set them off, but because they didn’t, that’s why I assumed Jesse was one of the ones setting them off. Tom said sometimes dogs don’t bark when they’re scared. Then I wish they could be scared all the time if that’s the case!

So far today it’s been cloudy and dead quiet. Tom did see his truck up there when he went to bring up the rent and trash. I’m hoping Jesse will want to stay home all day in front of the TV or something, but I know not to count on that one. I can hope, though!

Friday, January 2, 2009

I thought I was ready for sleep, but I guess I’m not quite there yet. The day turned out wonderfully quiet. We only heard the dogs for about 15 seconds at 10 PM. What sucks is knowing that tomorrow they’ll be back to barking the day away. Due to where my schedule is now, I should sleep through the worst of it. That would be the barking fit that starts just after 7:30 and lasts for an hour, sometimes longer. Then every 15-30 minutes they’ll go off from anywhere between 5-20 minutes at a time.

How does one get away from all the barking in the West??? It’s so bad here that I’ve sometimes thought about heading east where dogs are pets, allowed indoors, and made part of the family. Not tossed outside to stay 24/7 like some old, used-up piece of furniture. I don’t understand why anyone would want dogs if all they were going to do was keep them outside. Trained guard dogs, I can see, but what else would be the point in keeping them out there? To get attention? To annoy your neighbors?

Florida appeals to me, but at the same time, Tom and I both agree that the humidity would suck. Plus, Florida’s so damn crowded. There’s no acreage or real space of any kind to be had there if you’re not ready for a retirement community of some kind. I’d still like to remain in rural areas for another 20 years or so, then maybe get into a retirement community somewhere.

Tom trimmed my hair earlier, but it’s still a bit uneven. It’s not too noticeable with all the curls, so it’s okay for now. After having it between my waist and legs for two decades, it’s nice to have a break from the hassles that went with having such long hair for so long. Who knows? I may keep it short forever, although it’s not literally “short.” Guess that depends on one’s definition of the word. It’s to my shoulders. Pretty short for someone who had it as long as I did.

Tom agrees his weight is getting out of hand at 262 pounds, so he’s going to start dieting. Being laid off and home so much of the time has made it easier for him to eat more and be less active. I’m sure he’ll lose some weight. Once he makes up his mind to do something and is serious and sure he wants to do it, he usually does it.

Me, I could still stand to lose 25-35 pounds, but my problem is constant hunger. Until I can figure out a way not to be so hungry so much of the time, losing weight is going to be a challenge for me. And having such a slow metabolism doesn’t help either. So running every day alone doesn’t get the weight off. I’d have to cut down to at least 1000 calories a day and at that rate, you might as well starve cuz you’ll feel like you are anyway!

After finding a couple dozen or so typos in We’ll Meet Again Someday, along with a few missing words and sentences that I felt I could restructure better, I replaced the old copy with the new, corrected version on MD, but I’m not going to bother putting the corrected copy on Kiwi. So hopefully there are no more boo-boos to be found within it.

I decided, after all, to go through the 26 pages I began of Rainbow Dreams and see if I could make a story of it. I’m just not sure where to go with this one yet, but maybe it will come to me at some point. I usually get my ideas from dreams, believe it or not.

Still not sure what makes my journal so popular on MD, but after thinking about it I realized that there are up to 9 people that I know or have known (and this is kind of funny) that could be checking it out. My folks, Tammy, Mary, Andy, Marla, Satish, Michelle, the black bitch & pig. Plus there could be OLSers checking it out too, along with Lucinda, who told me my journal was “fascinating.” I never heard from her again after that.

Later…

Shit! The past really does come back to haunt me, doesn’t it? Now I know Tammy not only could be checking my journals out, but she is. This part is great. I like to share my thoughts, opinions and experiences. If I didn’t and if I cared what others thought of what I may have to say, I wouldn’t have an online journal set to public as opposed to private.

With sites like Facebook, MySpace, Reunion and shit like that which I had to join due to contests they were conducting, I knew it was just a matter of time before I was found by someone I didn’t want to be found by. I guess she’s still living in Connecticut. She’s a medical assistant, or so her profile says.

I still don’t think I ever could forgive her. Forgiving someone is simply asking for old cycles to repeat themselves and the last thing I need is to go through that shit all over again. She may never be able to cause me to end up in jail again, but just knowing that she did once is enough! Besides, she and I are like night and day, and she’s on one side of the country while I’m on the other side, so what’s the point of reconnecting? My friends may be far away too, but we have common interests and we don’t have the shitty history the drama queen and I have.

At first I was going to ignore her message which simply said, “This is your sister. Hope all is well,” but since I don’t always do the smartest thing, I told her no, I’m not going to tell you to go to hell or wish every bad thing in the world to happen to you, but I think it best that we continue on in silence, as silence really is golden at times. Yet I at least let her know why. I also told her I wasn’t sure she got the link to my journals and so I gave that to her too, then deleted the entry I had for her. Not sure why she’d care, but it’s up to her to do what she wants as far as reading any of my stuff. If she bugs me I could always set my journal to private.

To sum it all up, I told her that while I may’ve had fun flirting with a few of the detention officers who actually liked me too, she has no idea what half a year of missing your loved ones, your pets, eating food not fit for an animal, taking cold showers, and not getting any sleep is like, and she ought to hope she never will!

So I may not be perfect either, and the past may be the past, she may not have known what the hell she was doing, but one simple fact remains and that’s that while we may not hate each other, we don’t like each other either.

Who’s next to find me, Miss Perfect?

Her contacting me on Facebook makes me think my folks never gave her my journal link. Unless she wanted to keep her email address hidden and not have to set up her own journal account just to contact me, why didn’t she contact me from there a while ago if she had the link? And why did my parents not give her the link, if that’s truly the case? Maybe they didn’t want her to read anything I may write about them that they didn’t like and that may embarrass them? Or maybe they didn’t want her to feel hurt on account of the entry I made just for her?

I already got my first win of the year. Two gift cards for Albertson’s. One’s for $75 and the other is for $25. The only problem is that there are no Albertsons in NorCal. So Tom called their 800 number from the landline and they said to simply return them and they’ll send us a check for $75.

I also won a pouch of cinnamon crumb cake coffee that’ll make 10 cups and some candy.

I got the tank top I won from ESPN and it’s too small on me. Argh! Well, I’m not going to lose any more weight. I’m SICK of dieting! 135 may be an astronomical amount of weight for a 5-footer, but that’s okay. I hate being hungry, I’m still pretty fit and making sure I run about a mile each day.

According to the amount of time I smoked (started between ages 13-15 and quit at 31), and the number of cigarettes I smoked during that time, I’ve taken off almost 4 years of my life, according to this health site I was just at. That’s it? I would’ve thought it’d be more than that.

While I was correct in assuming we’d managed to escape the car stereos, the dog curse still lives on, although today was annoying as opposed to maddening. I think he was home today. Especially because of the rainy weather. If he was there, just letting them bark the amount that he let them bark for is enough to convince me that they need to be killed and that a note would be a waste of time. Besides, he’s said and done things in the past that indicate that he wouldn’t care to anyway. We’ve asked him to call first before coming down here yet he does it anyway, so why would he care about controlling his dogs?

Tom, who got up at 8:00, said they barked for 3 minutes. Then he heard a big diesel truck come in around 2:00 and they went off for 6 minutes, were quiet for 5, then went off again for 2 more minutes. We also hear (at least we think we do) someone else’s dogs, but aren’t sure where they are. Sound carries better at this time of year too, because the leaves have thinned out.

I just wish the owner was over 500’ away instead of almost 300’. You really have to get over 500’ before barking isn’t as much of an issue.

Saturday, January 3, 2009

Decided not to bother with colors here as it’s just a real pain in the ass. I’ll leave the colors to Kiwi.

Tom said there was a lot of barking this morning from 8:30 - 11:00, but not much after that.

Tammy replied saying she thought I’d have grown up, she didn’t send any letters or call the police, Bill did, and what black neighbors?

Hmmm… not sure what having “grown up” has to do with what happened and my feelings about it, but now I have to wonder if Tammy and my parents knew as much as I thought they did about what went on with the blacks.

Another confusing thing she said was, “You have no idea about my life or kids at all, only your made-up version.”

She’s right. I don’t have any idea. And this is because we haven’t been in touch for a decade and I haven’t cared. So what made-up version could I possibly have?

I said to Tom, “It was Tammy that called the pigs, wasn’t it?”

He said yes, and I said, “Well, she’s blaming that one on Bill, though I could swear I remember the pig that came to the house using the words, “your sister.”

Then Tom pointed out that while he was under the same impression I was as far as it being Tammy who called the cops (especially since she sent a letter addressed to Tom defending her abusive husband which I threatened by mail and by phone), you can’t trust what any cop says. This is true, too. Just about every cop I’ve ever known or heard others tell me about has been nothing but a lying, conniving, manipulative bastard. You know how the laws are. We’re not allowed to lie, speed or fail to use our signal lights when turning, but they can do whatever the hell they want, legal or not. And one of the things they love to do is tell bullshit stories.

I understand that I can never know for sure who did what and why. Someone suggested Bill was afraid of me, but I know better than that. He was the kind of guy who thought he could beat anyone, especially a woman. If he called the cops he didn’t do it out of fear, he did it out of spite.

I know I could hurt Bill, and these days I could probably kick my brother’s ass, and definitely Ronnie’s. But they could never be worth the money a plane ticket would cost, even if we were rich, or the time it would take to hop a plane, hunt them down, and then do whatever to them. But I know I wouldn’t hesitate if I could possibly run into them on the streets. This is why I would never go to my parents’ funeral. Even if I could control myself, they’d certainly start shit with me and I wouldn’t be about to just stand there and take it! Haven’t I done that enough in the past? So it would make no sense to go there, beat the shit out of them, then end up in jail for assault.

Anyway, I was under the impression that my family knew about my being in jail all along, although I didn’t know if they knew exactly why. There are a zillion different ways they could’ve found out. I figured that Tom’s family, who can’t keep their mouths shut about anything, might’ve been one way. So when I first sent them letters about it from Oregon, I thought they already knew.

Maybe Tammy really didn’t call the police, but just the fact that she said I threatened my nieces in her letter to Tom and won’t own up to it, makes me more sure that not having anything to do with each other is the right thing. We all exaggerate and even lie when we’re pissed at someone, but she didn’t need to go that far. I have always adored my nieces and was heartbroken over what they had to go through on account of their parents. I don’t blame them for anything for they were just kids caught between us adults and the shit that was going on with us.

Also, if she is innocent of calling the police, she’s still guilty of informing Bill as to our general whereabouts which pointed the pigs in our direction. They split before we moved, so the only way he could’ve found out was from her. I told her about the area in a letter to her right before I let Bill have it for his treatment of her and Lisa. Of course there’s also the possibility that they tracked us down through Tom’s family.

Again, I’ll never know for sure who did what, and the past can never be changed. However, we’re not talking about her accidentally breaking one of my dolls or spilling wine on my favorite blouse or flirting with my husband. This is about me losing half a year of my life and many thousands of dollars. Those involved could pay back the money we lost, but nothing can ever replace the time we lost together or undo the stress, depression, frustration and anger I went through at the time. So whether or not Bill’s more to blame than she ever was, this is a tough one to simply up and forgive, but she’s right when she says she’ll always be my sister. And I’ll always be hers even if we never speak again. As they say, we can change who are friends are, but we can’t change who are family members are.

A few people on Kiwi said I should forgive her. After all, said Patches, you came out alive and intact and seem pretty with it.

Brianna says she sees no harm in just acting like things are fine for the sake of getting along or lack of regret later.

I can sort of see Brianna’s point when she says “for the sake of getting along or lack of regret later.” However, it’s just as easy to end up regretting accepting someone back into our lives as well. I sure as hell regretted taking Larry back! My brother has a wonderful sense of humor and my heart went out to him when he lost his son. Yet one of the first things he told me when we first spoke in 1993 after a decade of silence was, “I’m not going to get involved in any family disputes.” Well, he sure proved himself to be a regular little hypocrite in the end! He stuck his nose everywhere but in his own business, pitted certain family members against others, and so on and so forth. His emotional state at the time was not good, but this was still no excuse to make so many people miserable. In some cases, his intentions may’ve been good. In others, he seemed to use the loss of his son as an excuse to cause so much of a rift within the family.

Anyway, although I’m still not sure I could forgive Tammy, I’m still glad she contacted me, for it was a way to let her know how I felt and to give her the choice of peeking in on my life via the journal link I gave her. It keeps my parents out of it, too. As it was, I hated to involve them by asking them to send the link to her, but I didn’t know how else to get it to her. She could’ve moved a dozen times since we last spoke for all I know. I still don’t know that reading other people’s journals or short stories is her thing, but now I know she has that option.

Even if I could forgive her or if what happened had never happened, I have to ask myself: Do I really want to reunite with someone I have nothing in common with? I’m surprised she’d even want to bother with me if only because we are so different. Having never had kids to tie me down, I was able to be open to being exposed to many different experiences, my interests are totally different, and we never did see eye to eye on much. I don’t blame her for being different from me as we are who we are. And I’m pretty sure she feels the same and knows that I am who I am.

In the end, I’ve decided to do nothing for now. I need time to think about things. I just don’t know if I can trust her. Hell, I don’t even know that I can trust my own parents despite them saving our asses! Talk about having some seriously mixed emotions about certain people. So I will sit and think about it. One minute I feel myself begin to soften, to tell myself the past is history, think of the good times, let it go, move on, etc. Then I remember what I went through and the anger returns and I am too stubborn not to hold my ground.

Like she said, though, she’ll always be my sister. And I will be hers. That won’t change.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Huffs and puffs I ran more than a mile today! I’m hot, sweaty, and a bit tired, but I love the feeling after a long workout. After a shower, my energy will be restored. You know you worked out hard when you sweat between your fingers of all places!

I’ve done some more reflecting on the sister thing. Okay, so maybe she didn’t know about the default warrant. Hell, we didn’t know about it. But what happened still happened. And even if she’s telling the truth by saying it was Bill who called the cops, he couldn’t have told them where to go if it weren’t for her.

So I’m still okay with not forgiving her just yet and I don’t know that I ever can or will. That’s one of those things you can never know for sure. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and feel differently. Maybe I will in 5 years. Maybe 10. Maybe never. I can only take it one day at a time.

For the longest time, I’ve believed that people should never be forgiven. Not for big things anyway, even if they didn’t mean to do anything wrong, or don’t think they did. I know most people believe that forgiveness is about moving on, but to me it’s giving the person a chance to screw you again.

I deactivated my Facebook account not just to make it harder for her to contact me, but mostly because I have no interest in it.

I am grateful to Tom for supporting me as he has and for letting me know that in his opinion, there is no right or wrong feeling and that it’s okay to do what I feel is best.

Even if what happened never happened at all, why associate with someone on the other side of the country that I have absolutely nothing in common with? Looking at her as just a person and not my sister, she’s someone I’d never be friends with, and so that’s enough to tell me that we should just continue keeping to ourselves.

Do I think she’s hurt? No, probably not. Pissed? Yeah, maybe a little. But I felt it best to be honest with her and risk upsetting her in any way than lie to both of us and resume a relationship that my heart simply wouldn’t be into. I don’t hate my sister, but I don’t love her either. Nor do I feel anything for her daughters or for my brother at this point in life. Call me cold, call me cruel, call me insensitive, call me selfish, but ice princess or not, this is how I feel.

Tom said it was quiet all morning. When I got up around noon, Jesse did his strange motorcycle thing again where he started it, then stopped it. Then a few minutes later he started it again and left. I heard a few barks as he was leaving, but nothing else since. Today’s definitely like old times and I’m enjoying it immensely and glad Tom can concentrate easier than I can on his programming work as tomorrow’s going to be rocking. Fortunately, I’ll be sleeping through the worst of it where my schedule is at right now.

The program is still being tested rigorously and is still passing like crazy. We’d have won a grand the other day, so he saw. Consistency matters more than big wins, though, as consistency can multiply itself quite well. It could still be a year or two until we can buy a land/house package.

Of course it would be a lot easier just to win this mansion that came into the sweeps site the other day. It’s actually in Sonoma which isn’t too far from here. We’d sell it right away since we couldn’t afford to pay the taxes on it, but a two-million-dollar house would give us plenty of money to get something else. Besides, I wouldn’t need anything as big as a mansion would be.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Won another trip (sort of). You get to choose from several different states and countries. The problem is that I won the accommodations, but not the airfare. We may go ahead and pick the 2-night stay in Reno as that would be less than a two-hour drive. The hotel would be much fancier than the motel we were stuck at, but I don’t want to go somewhere just to go there. There’s no shopping spree or gambling credit involved, so I don’t know what we’re going to do. We have a year to decide. The Vegas package does include $1000 in gambling credit, but that’d be a 6-hour drive! I hate long drives and we don’t have our new luggage yet. Our old luggage pretty much went to hell and so we dumped it. At least I’d be going in style music-wise. I could plug the laptop or iPod right into the cigarette lighter. We checked plane tickets to Vegas and the cheapest we could get tickets, plus air/hotel transfers, would be for about $200, and this doesn’t count food. Also, the Sacramento airport isn’t that close to here. Oh, well. I still say I was on the “trip of a lifetime” between July ’07 – April ’08 and I’d rather not go anywhere but to our own home next time around! Yup, that’s looking better and better.

Another day of analyzing my Tammy feelings. My gut instinct still says not to bother. Things would be okay for a while, then someone would say or do something stupid, it would get totally blown out of proportion or misunderstood altogether, and then it would be just like old times all over again.

Sometimes I do feel a little guilty for rejecting her and I wonder if she may be crying and feeling hurt all because I can’t forgive her for something she insists she’s unaware of. And while Becky and Sarah were too young to really have developed much of a relationship, Lisa and I were close, and so I have thought of her over the years and wondered how she’s been.

But like it or not, people do change throughout the years. Their interests change, and their attitude, beliefs, opinions, and ways of doing things change. And so I am not the forgiving person I used to be. Period.

Just the fact that she denies making any calls or sending any letters, tells me she hasn’t changed at all. It’s sad too, but her problem and not mine. I could’ve made it mine by accepting her back into my life, but not wanting to give history a chance to repeat itself, I haven’t done so. That and because we’re so far away from each other and so different.

Like I said, she may’ve been clueless as to the neighbor’s shit. We didn’t even realize the extent of their obsession ourselves until it was too late. But she did send the letter to Tom at the Phoenix address right after we moved, telling him she hoped he’d get the letter forwarded to him and that she didn’t know exactly where we were but knew we were in Maricopa. Then she went on to threaten forthcoming charges for my threatening Bill and his life and to “inform” Tom that I had been in funny farms and was sending things to the house. I don’t remember her exact words and we didn’t care to save the letter, but Tom already knew about my past. Remember, I’m the one they’d chide for shamelessly spilling my life out to all that would listen! And the “things” I sent were family pictures I no longer wanted.

After the letter, she called Tom who, as he put it, just let her ramble. Then he said he told her that if we couldn’t get along, why bother having anything to do with each other then?

This was the last of the communication.

I don’t understand why she won’t admit the call and letter to Tom. I mean, what’s the big deal? I admitted my call and letter to Bill. So? It happened. We all make mistakes. We’re only human. But do I regret the call and letter? No, I do not, and I’ll be happy to admit that, too! I regret the repercussions, but that’s all I regret.

In many ways, I am the same, too. I’m still short, I still love music, I still love writing, and I still have my crazy laugh, but I don’t forgive like I used to and I sure as hell don’t forget. Should I feel differently in time, I know how to get a hold of her.

I’m glad she contacted me so I could give her my journal link, not knowing for sure if my folks gave it to her, but I also wish she never did. This way these mixed emotions wouldn’t have been stirred up like they have been.

Some say I should keep ignoring her, not just because of past conflicts but because we’ve done just fine without each other, while more say I should forgive her and move on. Well, maybe I’ll end up doing both. She may never fess up to the letter or call, but I do accept and realize that while she may or may not have called the pigs, she couldn’t have known that what she and or Bill were doing by running to the pigs would get the black welfare bums on my trail and me thrown in jail. So I may be able to forgive her for this, but not “move on,” so to speak. In other words, I can let go of the past to a degree, but I don’t know if I could ever return to regularly communicating with her. So yeah, I’m willing to let the past go for the most part as I certainly don’t hate her in any way. I’d leave people like Larry and Ronnie to sink or swim on their own, but if I were walking down the street and saw someone trying to mug Tammy or something like that, I would jump to her defense. So no, no seriously hard feelings of any kind at this point. Just a lack of desire to carry on as before.

For now, I hope she and the girls are doing well. As for Bill…sorry, but I don’t give a shit about him. Never liked him, never will. I would feel no different if he stubbed his toe as I would if he broke every bone in his body. He was a wife-beater and a child-beater and those are about the lowest on my list. And I don’t care if it was “just a slap” as opposed to a beating with a fist and so on and so forth. A beater’s a beater! And the bad childhood sob story doesn’t cut it either. My own childhood was no bowl of cherries, but I would never treat a child that way, and if I’d had a kid to which a man raised a hand, it would’ve only happened once for that man would not be alive afterward.

Got a letter from Mary. Not much happening on her end.

I was surprised when an OLSer told me she read my MD journal and found my life interesting. Yeah, really interesting! LOL. I figured some people would click the link, but what really surprised me is that while she didn’t read my stories as she likes to learn about different people from all walks of life, she read about 85% of the journal part. Both Tom and I were like – wow! That’d take all day if not more. There are over 200 entries there now and a lot of the bio chapters aren’t exactly short and sweet.

Were the dogs a problem today? Well, of course! Though it wasn’t as much of a circus as I thought it would be (probably because I slept through their prime time). Tom said there were 4 barking fits, one lasting up to 6 minutes. I heard a 5-minute barking spree myself after I got up, but there’s been nothing since 4:00.

I wish it were summer again! Not just because I hate winter, but because then they’ll probably switch back to barking more at night. Only Jesse will be there to do something about it, and there won’t be as much going on then to stir them up in the first place.

We’ve got complications where killing the dogs is concerned. Tom said Jesse’s brother was there at some point as he recognized the red pickup he drives from when they were stringing the phone wires.

After just two days of serious dieting and running (now more than a mile a day), I can get into the sports bra/tank I won! I’m no longer a large. I’m a medium now.

Got some samples in the mail, as usual, and a small win. Freezer bags with a vacuum sealer so you don’t get freezer burn.

Oh, I reactivated my Facebook account just in case I ever do win one of their prizes. If she annoys me, though I don’t think she will, I can always ignore her. This will also give me an idea as to whether or not she’s reading my journal, which I’m curious about. I accidentally “poked” her on Facebook trying to figure out what that feature was all about. Then I noted her to say that I wasn’t trying to pick on her or play with her head, but just trying to figure it out. I’m almost positive she would’ve replied to it and that’s when she’d have learned that I had deactivated the account.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

I left a note on my Facebook wall for Tammy to wish Lisa a happy birthday on the 20th, but haven’t decided if I want to send her a message yet. Again, do I want history to repeat itself? Do I want to deal with her trying to push me into religion? Do I want to deal with her eventually trying to get me to visit? Do I want to deal with her begging for money should we end up having any? Do I want to deal with her being a hypochondriac, the family drama, etc.? Do I even care about these people in the first place? I’m still not sure I do for if I did, wouldn’t I then be able to forgive her for unknowingly leading me to jail and the letter/call to Tom?

I still have a few days to consider sending the message, since I doubt she’d know I reactivated and updated my profile unless she’s reading my journal which I also doubt. I just don’t want to send the wrong idea in wishing Lisa a happy birthday and get her thinking I’m ready to go back to regular communications with her as I am not. Perhaps I can meet her halfway, though, and instead of never communicating or communicating regularly, we can say hi on holidays and birthdays and things like that.

Thanks to Tammy – yes, it’s only because of her that I’ve been checking out Facebook more in-depth – I was amazed at the people I found in various states. I don’t know that they’re really the people I once knew, but nonetheless, I found it a coincidence that not only was there a Stacey S listed, but a James and Hanna as well. James is her husband from what my research at a couple of other sites showed, and I think Hanna’s her daughter. That name is always connected with Stacey and James, and so that’s why I think it could be her. The daughter would be about 15 now, old enough for a Facebook account with a parent or guardian’s permission.

Anyway, Hanna had a picture with a friend, and of course I couldn’t say for sure whether or not it’s really Stacey’s daughter. I guess there could be a resemblance, and the age does seem right. Stacey and James, however, list no pictures. I couldn’t resist sending them my journal link and thanking Stacey for inspiring one of my stories! LOL

Tom’s brother David was also listed, and there was a Lisa G, along with a Jennifer O, Mary C, and probably a few others I’m forgetting to mention. The only one of these that included a picture was Jennifer. It was very small and I couldn’t see her face, but the body type and coloring suggested it could be her. I didn’t send these people my journal link, but I sent some a friend request, and so if they check my profile page out of curiosity, they’ll see the link.

So now I’ve lost track of how many people I’ve personally known that may have access to my journal! Ha, ha, ha, ha! I don’t know why, but it’s just such a funny thought to me!

Now I just have to hope the following 3 things happen: 1. We get our check tomorrow. 2. We don’t run out of propane before we can get them out here (this time around we’re going to get 100 gallons rather than $100). 3. The program really works as it sure seems to in testing!

I’m so sick of the incompetence on Kiwi! I don’t get my survey points unless I beg for them, and now the prizes they assured me were sent last week, won’t be sent till the end of this week! Argh!

The dogs, like yesterday, waited for me to get up before going off, but there haven’t been any hour-long barking sprees that we know of. That probably won’t happen till I’m on days again with my shit luck. It’s strange that he’s there during the daytime lately but gone in the evenings.

Later…

It’s her. It’s definitely Stacey’s daughter. I didn’t think to check their friend list till just now to see if that’d give me any clues. Well, James has no friends and Stacey only has 4, none of which say they’re in Phoenix. Two are in Australia and the others don’t say where they are. But Hanna has dozens of friends, most of whom happen to be from Phoenix. Now that’s no coincidence! As with some members, I couldn’t view her profile or wall.

So assuming she’s still an active member, she’ll pass the message on to Stacey, if the Stacey and James I sent messages to weren’t the right ones and never got their own messages.

Thanks, Tammy. You finally did me a favor!

Once again, blacks have shown just how childish, unfair and violent they can be down in Oakland. I’m the first one to agree that corrupt cops are showing up more and more and need to be brought to justice. I also agree that they have a right to be angry that one of their “brothers” was shot in the back while lying face-down by a crooked cop. But to riot and take their anger out on innocent victims is totally wrong.

Why is it that when gays have demonstrations, they just have demonstrations, but when the blacks do, they go psycho? Yet people continue to cater to blacks and walk all over gays. Hmmm… what’s wrong with that picture?

There’s been a mystery roar detected in space that’s way interesting. Galaxies can emit a static hiss, but this roar is something new and no one knows what causes it. I wish I could travel to infinity and explore deep into the cosmos! It seems totally reasonable to assume that there is other intelligent life out there, but why haven’t we found each other? Tom thinks it’s cuz of the distance. Another great mystery to ponder, huh? Maybe in the afterlife, we are sent to other galaxies. After all, the afterlife has to be conducted somewhere, doesn’t it?

Thanks to so-called “role models” like Bristol Palin and Jamie Lynne Spears and their glorifying teen pregnancy, it’s no surprise the teen pregnancy rate is up again. What kind of mother “supports” their teenage knock-up like Sarah Palin did? I don’t understand how encouraging her to keep it and throw her life away before it’s even begun is being supportive. Shouldn’t she have demanded she either abort it, adopt it out or get the heck out and sink or swim on her own? Okay, so maybe abandonment wouldn’t be a good thing, but to support her makes no sense either.

This is how we end up with so much stupidity in the world. It seems to me that if you give your life up before you have a chance to grow, to learn, and to experience things, you have nothing to teach your children.

Many women in their teens and early 20s who were dumb enough not to use protection have said they wanted to “take responsibility for their mistake” by keeping the kid. I don’t get this either. To me, aborting it or giving it to a person or a couple who’s ready for a child and can afford one is taking responsibility. If you’re broke and not ready, wouldn’t that be more like punishing the child if you kept it? Why should the kid pay for your mistake?

As for Israel, I hope they kill ‘em all! At first I didn’t like the idea of them killing innocent children, but these so-called children would’ve only grown up just to be the same little terrorists.

Got a letter from Mary who says her letters may slow down because she’ll be busy over the next few months, Nathan’s going to be emailing me the link to his blog, and hopefully she’ll be able to email me herself soon.

That’d be great!

So I guess I won’t feel bad once I send the rest of my story to her because I was going to slow down too, due to the cost of stamps.

It’s still getting down into the upper 30s at night and I don’t like it at all. I miss summer!

Thursday, January 8, 2009

So far we’ve received 1 out of 3 wishes, and so yes, we got our check today. We then got groceries which cost a fortune since most of it was non-edibles that we needed.

Tom called the propane company today and while they said they’d try to get out tomorrow, it’s unlikely that they’ll make it. So we’re on for Monday and hoping that wish #2 is granted and that we don’t run out before they get here.

Wish #3 will begin on Saturday. Yup, that’s when the program will be raced for real and no longer just a test. Tom feels confident that after a month of extensive testing, we shouldn’t make much at first, but then we should gradually build up. But the more it builds, the faster it’ll happen. I hope to hell it really does work if only because he’s been working 12-15 hours a day at it!

I’ll admit that while Tom assures me the program will work and that we’re in an entirely different situation than the last time it failed us because he’s not under the kind of pressure he was at the motel, it’s still scary having to rely on something that’s never worked for us before just to pay the rent. We could sell a few more collectibles I don’t really care for all that much, but we can only sell and pawn so much, you know? I sure hope to hell he’s right because if he’s not, chances are excellent that we’ll be pawning our lives away, dirt poor till the day we die, for my chances of winning big aren’t that great, and his chances of making money at some job isn’t that great either due to his age.

When I asked Tom why he’s so sure that this is it as far as his program goes, he said because he’s never done such extensive testing on it before. Before we were under so much more pressure and we jumped the gun, thus causing it to fail.

Being laid off certainly does give a person more time to fiddle with things, that’s for sure.

But I see a number of things that could go wrong and how easily we could end up pushed onto the streets if he’s wrong, not that we wouldn’t kill ourselves first. He assures me that worst-case scenario we’re 5 days late with the rent, and there’s no way Jesse’s going to evict us by the 5th. But then what about next month? And the month after that? What if he never finds a job? What if the government doesn’t extend his unemployment even though he says they definitely would if there still aren’t any jobs?

I don’t want to spend the rest of our lives fighting tooth and nail just for the bare necessities! I’m sick of struggling to survive! And I’m tired of being in pain too, never able to get to a dentist.

To help ease my worries, Tom just came in and showed and explained to me that the test results of the last week alone show that a few bucks would’ve profited over $100. Playing a bit more aggressively would’ve made over a grand.

Well, we’ll try our best and then the rest is up to fate. Trying our best is really all we can do. I soooo do hope my prayers and spells will help it work out! It has to. It just has to! But as he pointed out, a day isn’t going to tell us much as opposed to a whole week.

Jesse was home all day, so the dogs were quiet.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Got up at 6 PM. Tom said that the dogs were quiet all day, but must sense when I’m getting up because a half-hour earlier, they went off for 15 minutes, then Jesse returned on the motorcycle right as I was getting up. I reminded him that the dog curse is on me. Yup, I’m the one who brought the noise curse into this relationship!

I’m now down to 132 pounds. The 120s are now within my reach! I’ve settled into a comfortable exercise routine where I run 15 minutes a day which is about a mile. Many sites recommend 30-60 minutes of exercise a day, but a recent study shows that just 10 minutes a day is all you really need. Well, it works for me! Most of the weight loss, though, comes from having around 1000 calories a day.

Patches was telling me about lupus which she has and the symptoms that go with it and how she’s had chemo treatments and all that. Unless she’s making it up just for attention, which doesn’t seem to be the case, it sure is one nasty disease to live with, but most cases are manageable from what I’ve read.

And I still have this little lump in the lower side of my left breast, towards my arm. I first noticed it back in the motel. But it hasn’t grown and most lumps aren’t cancerous, so I’m not worried about it. I have no bad vibes, and even if I did, I’m not insured right now so there’s nothing I can do about it. And who knows when and if I ever will be again?

Patches is the one that told me to write the number 8 down on a piece of paper and put it in a wallet or leave it around the house as it will generate money. Tom put it in his wallet. I won the $75 so far, even if we have to wait a few weeks for it, so hopefully it will help with other things, too.

Tomorrow’s the big day as Tom feels he’s done enough testing. Once again, though, we won’t know anything concrete for a week.

So we’re not only hoping for the best where his program is concerned but also that the propane will make it till Monday and that nothing delays them from getting out here. To help ensure that it lasts, we’re showering every other day instead of every day. I hate this shit, though, I really do! I’m sick of the poor spells! I really am. If this program doesn’t work then there’s a damn good chance we’ll be dirt poor all our lives as there’s just so little chance of me winning big, and his age will probably keep him from making good money at some job somewhere if anyone ever gives him one again.

I sent Tammy a message on Facebook asking that she wish Lisa a happy birthday for me when it’s time. She hasn’t replied. I don’t know how often she checks her mail, but I do appreciate not hearing back from her as I don’t want to discuss it, I just want to wish Lisa a happy birthday.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

I still don’t know if the propane will last till they refill us on Monday, but we’re on a winning streak! Day one has brought us a small profit which was within an inch of being a fairly good size profit had it not been for some unusual circumstances to arise. As long as it’s still ahead this time next weekend. That’s what matters more than what happens along the way.

Another baby products win! And it’s all stuff I could use myself, so that’s nice. Lotion, shampoo, conditioner, bubble bath.

I got up at 6 PM again and the dogs were going off, then stopped a few minutes later. Tom said he swears they sense when I get up and my hatred for them because it had been quiet all day till right before I got up, just like the last few times. I believe this, too!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Now this is funny! Definitely not something I’ll post online any more than I did the first time I mentioned contacting Stacey or anyone associated with her. Hanna’s gone. I mean totally gone from Facebook altogether. Could I really be the reason? I mean, that’s a little extreme, isn’t it? Why not just block me? Why disappear altogether? But she must’ve deactivated because I would think that I’d still be able to look her up even if she blocked me. All a block should do is keep a user from sending you messages or trying to befriend you. Yet it’s as if Hanna S never existed on Facebook! All that because of me? The journals and stories must’ve really freaked Stacey out. Would a person learning that they’re a character in a story written by someone they once knew really freak them out that much, even if it was written by someone they disliked? Maybe so. Especially since I killed her off in the end! LOL, but it’s just a story. I’d be shocked and maybe feel a bit weird about it too, but that’s about it so long as my real name and address weren’t used. Actually, they could use my name, so long as it wasn’t connected to my address in any way. I altered her name and address in the book.

I still can’t believe Hanna deactivated! It was no doubt per orders of Stacey, although I never would’ve contacted her or any other S again as there wouldn’t have been any reason to after the link was sent to all the Ss I could find in the Phoenix area. I only went to study her picture again out of curiosity to see if I would be more or less convinced there could be a relationship. If I hadn’t, I’d never have known she was gone.

Also out of curiosity, I went and checked, and the two Stacey and James are still there, but I don’t know if it’s them.

I wonder if Stacey read the entire story or any of the journals. Once again, that’s as hard to guess as is the possibility of my parents reading it, but for different reasons. As with my folks, she could be naturally curious to see what’s been said about her. On the other hand, if she’s still harboring this strange hatred for me for whatever reason, she may be freaked out and disgusted to read it. When someone’s sure they don’t want anything to do with you, usually that would include your journals and stories. Stacey definitely hasn’t changed a bit. I mean, by now I would have thought she’d have gotten over whatever it was that I supposedly did to make her dislike me so much other than pull pranks on those who were harassing me.

Of course, thanks to the black bitch I start to get a little paranoid, and Stacey strikes me as the type to go to the pigs about this, too. But I know I didn’t do anything wrong. I never wrote: I’m going to hunt down and kill Stacey S, then published it online or sent that in the mail to her. And all the cop connections in the world, if she has any, couldn’t do a damn thing to make it look like I did anything wrong, so I will laugh instead of worry. I didn’t mean to shock or confuse the kid, but the idea of Stacey finding out about journals and stories is funny. Whether or not she reads any of it, I’ll never know.

Monday, January 12, 2009

And now one of the Staceys is gone, too. Weird. Just weird. I never would’ve contacted them again as it only took one message to send the link and I never expected a reply, but hey, they’re the ones putting themselves out by denying their accounts, freaked out over the story/journals or not.

It’s strange how one can harbor so much anger and hatred for no apparent reason, and even after all these years, too. Some people really never change.

It still cracks me up when I picture her reading certain things (if she has), but it’s my journal, so I will write what I want. She doesn’t have to read it either. I only gave her that choice by sending the link, same as Tammy.

Not much going on. Sherri, the OLSer who told me she read my journal, PM’d me today thrilled that she got mentioned in my journal (sort of). I was like, wow, I didn’t know she was still reading new entries as they came in. Cool! She said it didn’t take long to read as she is a speed reader.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

I hope tomorrow (now today) is a much better day than yesterday. There was some good in it in that I won 12 oz. of coffee in a monthly sweep. I chose the decaf Southern Pecan. It was either that or the Kona Macadamia Nut or Colombian Supreme. Anything that isn’t dark or French roast! Yup, the less we need something, the more likely we are to get more of it! I still have that Cinnamon Crumb Cake coffee I won, plus a Wal-Mart sample, plus what’s still in the canister. That would be the Caramel Truffle.

The other good thing was that it was the warmest it’s been in 6 weeks. It almost hit 70º out there and almost got up to 90º in here. The heat is what woke me up. Then when I saw that it was just after 3:00 and the fucking propane guy still hadn’t come, I was too pissed to go back to sleep for a few hours. There’s always a problem with this company. Always! Tom agrees he’s had enough too, as 4 out of the 5 times we’ve called them out there’s been a problem. Usually, it’s a gas leak, but this time around the retard in the office screwed up with telling the delivery guy how much propane he’d need for the day’s deliveries, so we and a few others have been put off till morning. I gotta see someone show up to believe it!

Meanwhile, Tom found a company that will come out at scheduled intervals and keep your tank topped off, then send you a bill like a regular utility service, which I’d definitely prefer as opposed to this call-us-when-you-need-us bullshit in which you have to wait days for anyone to show up. We’re going to look into this, but hopefully we won’t need to for 6 weeks. At that point, if we fill the tank up completely, it should last the rest of the year, should we have the luxury of surviving it in the first place.

Speaking of which, the heat just came on for the first time in nearly 18 hours, so by some miracle, we do still have propane, even though the gage says we shouldn’t (ah, finally a liar of a good kind). Had we been up in Oregon (although they use heating oil there and not propane) we’d have run dry before the weekend even hit.

Tom could take the 5-gallon propane tank that’s in the shed that we used on the land up in Oregon and get us some propane if need be, but I sure hope he won’t have to. The guy has enough shit to do!

We’ve been keeping the living room at 65º and using the portable heater in the bedroom to help boost it up to 72º. After we finally do get propane, we’ll put the portable away and reset the main heater at 70º, where it’s usually at.

I did the dishes I had soaking in the sink for the last two days, but am putting off my shower for now. I haven’t worked out either, so I don’t get all sweaty. For now, I’ve freshened up with wet wipes. The dishes consisted mostly of mugs and silverware than anything else.

Of course I started to get mad at God and was like, “You mean to tell me you can answer the prayers of millions of bigots who prayed that you let Prop 8 pass so they could legally discriminate against gays, but you won’t let us have our damn propane?!?!”

But if they come before we run out, then He will have answered my prayers, and so it’s too soon to jump down His throat.

Getting propane isn’t my biggest concern. My biggest concern is the usual bullshit and that’s wondering if we’re going to make it. I hate living on the edge like this and wondering each month if we’re going to be able to pay the rent! It’s like this is our true calling in life; to struggle as if we were lazy bums who just sat around on our asses day in and day out. I’m sick of struggling to get ahead just to get kicked back!

If his program doesn’t work out and no one gives him a job, we can only last so many more months. As it is I don’t know if we can make February’s rent without having to work at it, but I’m tired of having to “work at it!” Especially to the degree that we have been lately. And all for a guy who doesn’t need the money. It’s just no way to live. I’m tired of fighting to survive with a few months off here and there. Yet Tom’s always been so naively optimistic that I’m afraid he’s just being overconfident and just kidding himself where the program’s concerned. Either that or cruelly teased from above. Seriously, though, I never met anyone this old that was this confident! Usually, we grow out of that in our 20s as by then we realize that no, we can’t necessarily do whatever we want in life. Not even if we put our minds to it, have a positive attitude, and take all the necessary steps within our means to achieve our goals and dreams. So despite the many hours of work he’s put into the program, and despite how knowledgeable he is with numbers and horseracing, I don’t see how it could work out simply because it’s what we want, and most people just don’t get what they want in life, like it or not. Also, if I’m right about a lifelong money curse being on us, then nothing we do would generate it no matter how smart we were and no matter how hard we slaved our asses off. People want to believe they’re in the driver’s seat of their lives because it’s scary to admit otherwise, and in some ways we are. However, in most ways, it comes down to fate. People also say that we all just have to make the best of whatever life hands us. Well, I don’t see how I could “make the best” of life on the streets if that’s what we’re going to be handed.

As for the dogs, they went on a couple of barking fits for a few minutes, and he heard the motorcycle too, but nothing major. Yeah, I knew Mr. Harley Man up there wasn’t working by the time 8:00 rolled around and it was still quiet. It wouldn’t surprise me if the barking escalated once I got more onto days.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Another wish has been granted! Ah, the comfort of peace of mind. Two down, one to go and that’s the biggie (Tom’s program).

It was 8:30 yesterday morning. I was at the computer when I heard a big truck and hoped it was the propane people. Then I said to myself, like they’re going to actually keep their word by being here first thing like they said! 

Then I reminded myself of one simple fact. We live in the middle of the forest. Nothing that close wouldn’t be coming here. And it was! So now we don’t have to worry about running out. I don’t like that it was $200, but it’s nice not to have to worry about that for a while. Hopefully, this will last 2-3 months, and then next time for the rest of the year. Of course, I still don’t know if we’re going to make it, so I’m trying to just enjoy the moment and not worry whether or not we’re going to be able to pay February’s rent. I mean, I’m not stupid. I know chances are we’ll lose the place and have to kill ourselves to keep from slowly dying off in misery on the streets. I know chances are Tom’s overestimating the program. And I know chances are all the prayers in the world won’t save us. If whatever’s up there didn’t want us to struggle, we wouldn’t be. Money may’ve been in my parents’ cards and other people’s cards, but it’s not for us. It’s just not for us. Money’s not going to save us, it’s going to kill us. It’s only a matter of time. At least that’s what will probably be the case anyway. But for now, I’m going to live like I have another 40 years or so!

We even took a break from dieting for a few days. I’m already up to 133, but that’s okay. It’s worth it.

Yesterday was beautiful in the afternoon. We had the windows open.

Maine wants to legalize gay marriage. What for? So the bigots can take it away?

I won a couple of writing contests on Kiwi. Every week they choose a winner who’s reviewed articles and commented on them, so that got me extra points!

Later…

My heart says I want to live and be happy just like anyone would. My head says, get out! Just get out! You can’t make be what isn’t meant to be, and in your case, money isn’t meant to be. So just kill yourself before you die of poverty. This isn’t about not having enough to buy a house of our own. This is about not having enough to pay the fucking rent. I’m tired of our survival being on the line! I’m tired of “fighting” to live. I’m sick of being in pain, without insurance, and unable to see a dentist. I’m sick of it all!

Thursday, January 15, 2009

When I first got up last night I couldn’t figure out why I was still so tired. This is when Tom told me he broke even that day on our “bread and butter” track in which he had a few brains that had been tested and qualified for. This is a SoCal track that has passed every day in testing. For it to conveniently break even when we suddenly play it for real confirms all the more that we’re not meant to have money.

Then I looked at the clock and saw that I had only slept 4½ hours. If I had any doubts left about Tom being totally brainwashed by this program, they’re gone now. Depressed, I fell back into a sleep that was full of all kinds of dismal dreams.

The next time I opened my eyes it was 3 AM. I vowed then and there that if we survived, I would make this our “dream home.” We can’t enlarge it, we can’t modernize it, we can’t own it, but we can make it more comfortable. Tom’s always going to tell me his program is “right there” no matter what. All I can do is accept the fact that our dream house is just that – a dream. Especially the kind I want. For whatever reason, God decided I shouldn’t have my dreams come true in this life. I don’t know, maybe in a past life I cheated someone out of their dreams and I’m paying for it here in this life. I’ll never know why. I just know the facts.

I wracked my brain trying to figure out a way to make it on the streets, but with this schedule disorder and my inability to handle stress, heat and cold that well, I know I never could do it. And where would I stay all day while he was at work? Shelters only let you stay there at night. It sucks too, for at this point, the streets would probably be my first choice because then I’d no longer have to worry about ending up homeless. I would think I would feel a sense of freedom and that a burden was lifted from me to no longer have to worry about losing something I no longer had to lose.

But death is the only alternative to the streets. Should we make it somehow, I’m going to try my best to forget about owning a new place and make the best of this little trailer. It’s secluded and it’s peaceful when the dogs are quiet, so why not? It’s small and old but there are things we could do over the years, as money permits it, that’d make it more comfortable. I’ll just have to try to look at the bright side of staying here. Owning a home doesn’t have the value it used to have, we don’t have to fix things that break, and so it’s a lot less complicated in some ways if we just remain renters.

In a few years, maybe I’ll get to a dentist. Then in a few years after that, maybe we can pick out our own floors and carpets. That’d make it homier and like the place was more ours. I’ll get rid of a lot of the dolls to make more room in here since it’s only 500 square feet.

If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s not to bother wasting time struggling for what isn’t meant to be. I wouldn’t have this sleep disorder to prevent me from working outside of the house if we weren’t meant to struggle. I would love to work from home. But most of them aren’t legit and require you to drive to people’s houses. Not very easy for someone who doesn’t drive or live on a bus route. Besides, selling things door to door isn’t the way to go no matter what. Maybe 50 years ago it was, but not today. Today most folks don’t appreciate random house calls, especially by salespeople. And the few good home jobs that are out there don’t exactly advertise themselves. Those jobs are usually obtained through people we personally know.

Friday, January 16, 2009

Paula says I’ve changed a lot. I don’t like gabbing on the phone like I used to and am just different in many ways, she says, not that this is a bad thing, but just something she’s noticed.

I think it’s normal to change throughout the years. Our lives change, our interests and priorities change, and therefore, so do we.

Our lives are worse than ever yet that’s not quite the case at the same time. Not that I didn’t have my share of stressful, frustrating and sometimes depressing issues to have to deal with in the past, but this is different. This is about our survival. Things may’ve happened in the past to upset me in various ways, but never was my life on the line either before or after meeting Tom as it has been on and off for the last few years. The closest I came to that was when I was smoking and having bad asthma attacks, but that still wasn’t the same as this. Month after month I sit and wonder if we’re going to make it. I feel totally helpless as we wait and wait and wait some more.

Tom still thinks he’s going to get a job this month with affordable insurance. That’s pretty hopeful in a country that doesn’t seem to be hiring anywhere. But that’s just Mr. Naively Optimistic for you! I’ve never heard of anyone in their 50s that was this optimistic. Never. Overconfident or not, though, we did have a small profit yesterday which he says he knew would be slow, but not this slow. I still don’t see how getting aggressive with it can change fate, though. We were meant to be poor as much as he was meant to have hazel eyes and I was meant to be short. Some things really just don’t change, and struggling to make something be that’s not meant to be is only going to make you all the more frustrated.

I really hope Jessie’s in Vegas now. It’s -16º in Massachusetts now!

Later…

I keep hoping for a miracle, but I don’t really expect one. The phone could ring right now and Tom could get an adequate or even a good-paying job, and we could be saved if only for a little while. Or his program could quit giving us false hope and really start making some money for once if only just enough to get by on.

But is this really realistic to hope for? I guess that will depend on whether or not we’re meant to make it. Either way, we’re not going to die before February. Of that much, I’m sure of. And since I don’t know whether or not life will continue for us after the 31st, I’m going to try not to dwell on it. But when I can’t help it, and when I start to feel sad over the things I’d miss in life, I’ll remind myself of the bad things I won’t miss at all. For now, though, I’m going to try to live like we have all the security in the world and a God that doesn’t hate us enough not to save us somehow, some way.

And that means following through with the story idea that came to me in my dreams, as most of them do. A couple of nights ago when I had all kinds of depressing dreams, I was in jail, and Kate Jackson, of all people, was my defense lawyer. I don’t know what it was I did or if I was really guilty or not, but it spawned an idea that could stem from what I’ve got so far. Maybe one character could be framed for the murder that another character really committed for insurance money or something like that.

Amazingly enough, my journal is still on the ‘most popular’ list. Now that I know it’s determined by unique IP hits, I’m not sure why. While there are at least a dozen or so people that I know that may have this link, I’m guessing it’s fellow OLSers. I doubt my pal Sherri is the only one who’s ever been curious about it.

It’s 81º in here and I have the fan on and the windows open. Meanwhile, it’s 12º where Jessie might be and where Paula definitely is! LOL

Saturday, January 17, 2009

So Tom says paying the rent isn’t the dire crisis I think it is. Yeah, I know. And we’re still supposed to get rich, right? Right? Isn’t that why the horses lost yesterday? Okay, so we only put a few bucks into the account to begin with, but a loss is a loss, isn’t it? And what an amazing coincidence that what passes with flying colors in testing suddenly fails us when it’s used for real. This convinces me all the more that we’re not meant to have money. I don’t know why God would want us to struggle on and to suffer in any way, but I guess He must have his reasons. Whatever the reason is, I don’t know that I want to live to pay next month’s rent in the first place. This is no longer just about what’s going on now, but about our inevitably bleak future as well. I don’t want to struggle for another 30-40 years. I don’t want to rent other people’s old dumps all our lives. So what if we can pay the rent this month? It’d still be just a matter of time before we couldn’t. Like I’ve said before, it’s only the bad places I can’t get out of. We’re going to run out of money at some point because this place is quiet overall. Jesse’s dogs and engines may annoy me at times, but compared to other places I’ve lived in, it’s dead quiet here, so why would I be allowed to live in peace for any real length of time? That’s why we lost the Maricopa house, too. Despite the stress the blacks and their corrupt pig pal put on us, it was fairly quiet there and I loved that house, which was ours. Peace is just as much of a no-no for me as money is, so I’m not the least bit surprised at what’s going on here. I knew when they laid him off that it was the beginning of the end and not some road to a better life.

No, I’m not going to ask my folks for help either. Maybe if they were younger and had more money I would, but they can’t be around to save us forever, and they have their own shit to deal with. I know that if we killed ourselves they’d be hurt and maybe even angry for a while, but I would think deep down that they’d understand as best they could for someone who has no concept of what it’s like to be poor.

I exercised out of habit, but I’m not sure I can work on my story. It’s hard to bring myself to work on something I may not be around to finish, but I guess I will simply because I don’t have much else to do other than wait for the inevitable to play itself out.

Later…

I haven’t wanted to drop dead this badly in a long time. I’d still be scared, but not like in the motel. The sicker I get of living and the more our chance for security slips away, the more ready I feel. Sure I’d miss certain things like my hobbies, but I’ve listened to enough music in my life, I’ve sung enough songs, collected enough dolls, watched enough movies and written enough stories. But what I’m sick of doesn’t even come close to comparing to what I’d miss. I’m sick of struggling, I’m sick of the barking every single fucking place we live. I’m sick of the simplest of things in life being totally out of reach simply because it’s me who wants them. I’m sick of living in old beat-up dumps with doors that don’t close right or that don’t stay open as is the case with the bedroom door here. I’m sick of the fact that nothing excites me anymore. Nothing has seemed new and exciting for a while now. Not sex, not new clothes, not traveling… nothing. Instead, the only thing that seems to excite me is the thought of escaping life’s bullshit. To have no more teeth pain, no more periods, no more struggling to keep weight off. My eyes would never have to get any worse, not that I could ever afford an optometrist any more than a dentist. I’d never get any older or any grayer. I’d never have to deal with menopause. I’d never have to spend another minute wondering who will take care of us when we get too old to care for ourselves. I’d never have to be inconvenienced again by a sleep disorder. My ear would no longer be a problem, and of course, I wouldn’t have to deal with it should the lump in my breast be cancerous as much as I doubt it is since I doubt I’d ever have insurance before I was 65. There’d be no more pawning and selling things just to never get ahead. No more worrying about losing the roof over our heads. No more having to do without simple everyday luxuries like a full-size washer that’s always hooked up or a dishwasher. No more being so cramped in you can only walk around one side of the bed and part of the foot. No more living on someone else’s stained carpet, since we could never have our own again.

Not even winning a grand would be exciting at this point. It would only be a temporary fix. Our security would only be on the line once again as soon as the money ran out, and we certainly wouldn’t have our dream house either. The only way to “security” would be to kill someone and be sure to get caught for it. That’d be sure to keep us off the streets! Ain’t life just grand?

Do I wish I could suddenly snap my fingers and have my dream of owning a modest house where we don’t have to hear other people’s dogs be gone? No, as I don’t see the point in that. It would only be replaced with some other impossible dream. As I said, the dream doesn’t have to be anything far-fetched. It only has to be mine. Being mine automatically disqualifies it from becoming possible.

If the house we had in Phoenix had been a little nicer and we’d had normal, civilized neighbors, we’d still be there today, and the house would be all paid for. But God wanted us to suffer instead.

Tom pointed out that things might’ve been worse had we remained in Phoenix, and that a zillion different other things could’ve gone wrong. This is true. A meteorite could’ve smashed through the roof. I could’ve had a child rather than a miscarriage. We could’ve become seriously ill or injured. But the odds of these uncool things happening wouldn’t have been likely. We’ll never know, though, what would have happened. I only know what did happen and that something up there definitely does NOT have our best interest at heart and is NOT guiding us to the better life we had so hoped for here. Since we left Phoenix, and since we lost the Maricopa house, maybe we should’ve stayed in Oregon. It’d be cold, snowy, noisy, and I wouldn’t have insurance till I was 65, but at least the rent would be half of what it is here. Even if they laid him off, I don’t see how we’d be at risk of ending up on the streets.

Boy, was I wrong about God! Who the hell was I kidding in thinking I had a friend in Him? And how could I have been so damn naive to think that if I just prayed and did all the necessary steps I possibly could towards achieving our goals and dreams, we would eventually succeed? Well, guess what? There is no home for us. Not in this life.

Today I’m not going to bother doing much of anything. No sweeping, no cleaning, no nothing. I’ll just write and listen to music here and there. Hey, if we’re going to have to live like bums I might as well act like one for once and just be totally lazy.

Right now the dogs are going crazy and I’ve had enough! We can’t kill them because Jesse has no set schedule, yet I’d like a shot at getting some peace during the last couple weeks of my life, and so as soon as that cock roars back on its motorcycle, I intend to call up there and see if I can get him to at least move the damn things if he’s not going to take them inside. I’d rather him tell us he’s not going to do shit about them than to have never tried anything at all.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

I decided to make a new journal on Kiwi and mark it private. Kiwi’s still a bit more social than I’d like, and I don’t have many happy things to write about lately anyway.

I’m still depressed, frustrated and even pissed. There’s no doubt in my mind that there’s a curse on us that can never be lifted. Funny how there’s always something tripping us up. We’d have been okay had the propane not run out sooner than anticipated. Every single fucking time we get ahead, we get the carpet yanked from under our feet. Every solution we come up with turns out to be nothing but a temporary fix. Like what we’re going to do later on today and that’s put up 3 of the Tonners on eBay. I don’t care for these 3 much and would sell them anyway, but just the fact that we have to sell them and can’t sell them simply because we want to really pisses me off. It’s just a matter of time before we run out of things to pawn and sell. Well, I’m tired of selling our lives away and working our asses off just to be dirt-poor! And even if we could know that we’d have just enough to pay for our necessities, do I really want to do that and rent someone else’s tiny dump for the rest of my life? I’m surer than ever that we’ll never own anything of our own. I thought of asking my folks to will their condo to us. We’d sell it, of course, and get a detached house, but I figure they’d probably want the drama queen to sell it and give most of the money to her kids.

As for the dogs, I’ve had it. I’ve totally had it. So the next time Tom drives out he’s going to leave the note I should’ve given him months ago since he’s too hard to talk to. Whether my days are numbered or not, I want the peace and quiet we came here for! Or at least a chance at getting it back. I’m tired of this fucking bullshit that’s been going on now just about every day for 3 months!

Monday, January 19, 2009

I know I should be a good little bum, sit on my ass, and let my actions match our income. But I was never one for sitting still. So, on account of my allergies acting up, I decided to do some serious cleaning and rearranging around here. Like I said, whether my days are numbered or not, why not be as comfortable as possible? I ended up working pretty hard on several different things. What will my reward be for it all? Oh, the usual, I suppose. More poverty, a little bit of pain, maybe even some real pain. After all, I wouldn’t be a true human being in God’s eyes if I could have a day off from pain and struggling now, would I?

Tom doesn’t think things will end up as bad as in the motel, but Tom never thinks anything bad will happen until it actually does. I myself don’t know for sure if things will get that bad, but I certainly see potential there. Instead, the phone could ring with a fairly well-paying job for Tom. It’s just that I know God wouldn’t be that kind to us. He never lets anything be that simple for us, but yes, a simple solution that would certainly be a quick fix to the problem would be for him to get a decent job. But I know that if we survive, he’s going to be one of the ones to get the $9-$10 job.

He says we could find a way to make it, and worst-case scenario, buy something in a retirement community when he’s 55 as opposed to building something on a large piece of land. But that’s just the thing I keep questioning. I’m sick of struggling to “try to find a way” to make it. I just want to be allowed to simply live without having to fight tooth and nail to do so. If this is about God punishing me for trying to take my life once upon a time, then He should’ve thought about that when He allowed the circumstances to occur that led me to take such actions.

I wouldn’t mind living in a retirement community so long as Granny’s not going to leave her dogs outside just a few feet from our place all the time, play musical car doors with a ton of company, or allow her unruly grandkids to scream outside for hours every weekend, but I still don’t see how we’ll ever have the credit or the money to buy anything. Maybe a falling-down dump in the middle of a crime-infested area of the city, but that’s about it.

We talked about renting a bigger, newer place to hole up in till he turns 55, yet once again and despite the fact that rents are dropping, I don’t see how we could afford to do that either. And even if Jesse refuses to shut his dogs up, I don’t know that I’d want to. Yeah, I hate being cramped in this little old dive, but I’d hate to give up this kind of seclusion and privacy, and I’d really hate to trade 2 dogs in for 10, and 1 motorcycle in for a million car stereos, plus screaming kids, plus whatever other shit people can think of to be loud, rude and obnoxious. So it would take a hell of a lot of money and a hell of a good deal, both of which I’m virtually certain wouldn’t be the case. It’s just not in our cards for something that good to happen. That 9K win was a fluke as were the last two years in Oregon where we didn’t have money problems at all.

The rent is paid up till February, so I still have some time to decide whether or not I’m willing to struggle on in life like a little bum.

Oh, God, can’t I at least have insurance to get my teeth fixed? Oh, wait a minute. That’s too much to ask for. How dare me!

And how dare I even think of asking Him to help Tom with his swollen feet either. We’re still not sure what’s causing it, but his feet and calves are horribly swollen. He can barely get his flip-flops on. There’s no way he could get his sneakers on, that’s for sure. But would God care to help him if I asked Him to? Why should He? He’s got more important things to do like making sure people get away with murder, letting the rich get richer, and helping to ensure that gays don’t get any rights while more and more of them go to the almighty black man.

Make sure the hungry stay that way too, God!

Incredibly, we heard not one single bark yesterday, but that’s become the new fluke. I’m sure that today they’ll be going crazy. Especially if Jesse takes off somewhere. And I’m on days now, so that alone will make it noisier. We’re going to leave him the note either way and let him know just what goes on around here when he does take off, but like I said, I don’t know if he’ll care to do anything about it. I guess that will depend on how badly he wants us to stay here, cuz he certainly can’t know that we’re not in a position to move.

The afternoons have been gorgeous. We’ve been able to open windows from around 11:00 – 4:00. Had we known it’d be this warm this soon we wouldn’t have gotten so much propane. I don’t ever remember January being this warm in Arizona.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Although my decision not to associate with Tammy still stands (although knowing her, she told people it was her decision), I posted a happy birthday message to Lisa on my wall on Facebook, not that I expected anyone to see it.

Lisa would be in her mid-20s now. Hope she hasn’t gotten knocked up yet. I mean, that’s still a little young to be having kids, no matter how much money and support you may have.

I wonder how many of them had to be drugged up (besides just Lisa) in order to deal with Tammy. Did Tammy carry on the “funny farm” tradition that began with me? Although my folks and Tammy are far from the worst people in existence, they never seemed to get that while you can lead a horse to water, you cannot make it drink. It’s that way with the typical teenage bullshit every parent seems to think is oh-so extreme in their case. Every parent seems to think they’ve got it the worst. But guess what? You can dope them up, you can lock them up, but they’re still going to be who they are. Only time, age and experience can change and shape who we are, and that’s still got to be up to us as individuals. Not our families, not our friends, not society, and not doctors.

So, although I don’t ever expect to talk to Lisa again either, I hope she’s doing well in life and getting at least some of the things she wants.

As for me, there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll never own anything again and so I’m still bummed out. We went out today which perked me up a little, but just being cursed with this sleep disorder alone is enough to tell me I’ll never win a house or enough money to buy one. Or at least most of it with anyway. To win a house or big bucks would totally defeat the purpose of cursing me with the sleep disorder in the first place. I was cursed with it to keep me from working outside of the house, thus providing us with two incomes. Therefore, why would I ever be allowed to win enough to buy a house and some real security in life? To compensate us for the years we suffered financially? I don’t think so. If that were the case, what’s taking so long?

So this reality check has had me feeling rather down. Even if I knew we’d never be so bad off that we’d end up on the streets, the thought of living in other people’s places for the rest of my life really sucks. I’m trying to look on the bright side of things to counter my dreary, hopeless mood. At least we didn’t get stuck in some rocking apartment complex like I thought we would. I would’ve been utterly miserable and who knows when I’d have finally gotten pushed too far by one unruly neighbor after another that I’d have lost it and beaten them into silence.

Tom said he believes we can buy something in a retirement community when he’s 55, but he also believed the program would pay off and he was wrong.

If we survive and continue to make shitty money, I still need to see a dentist, an optometrist and an ear doctor. Plus, we need things like a new mattress, a couch, some clothes, and to fix the car’s AC. This doesn’t include doing things around here to make the place more comfortable for us like redoing the carpet and floors if we were to stay here indefinitely, which I doubt Jesse would mind. He may be noisy at times, but he’s easygoing in that he pretty much wouldn’t care what we did with the place as long as we weren’t hurting anything. Tom said that except for the dentist, these things are insignificant, but to me, they still add up to be enough of a cost.

One thing’s for sure and that’s that if we make it, we’ll never leave NorCal. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wouldn’t move long distance ever again without a ton of money. Sometimes I wish we were in the east where it rains more and dogs are house pets. I get sick of the extreme night/day temperature fluctuations and how it’s customary in the West to toss your dogs outside and forget about them. And these are always big dogs with big barks. Rarely does anyone out here get small dogs. I guess I should just be glad that if we have to remain anywhere, it’s here. This is the best climate I’ve lived in so far. A little dry at times, and a little cold in the winter, but it’s nice not to have the killer winters Massachusetts and Oregon did or the killer summers Arizona had. I’d still take extreme heat over extreme cold, though.

Because it was quiet two days in a row, now three, we put the note to Jesse on hold for now. I’m sure they’ll be a problem again soon enough, but for now, we’re holding off till he starts taking off more often again, which I think he would at some point.

Oddly enough, though, we didn’t see any vehicles or the dogs when we came and went earlier today.

We picked up our mail. I finally got one of my prizes from Kiwi which was the lotion. Then we went to the drugstore where we found they had a surprisingly large selection of incense, some of which I’d never heard of like Caribbean Nights. At just a dime a stick, I got 50, 10 of which are patchouli, one of my favorites. Lastly, we grabbed some things from the grocery store.

Oh, shit. There goes the dogs right now. There’s one that barks much more than the other and so it’s the usual one I’m hearing right now. I knew the peace wouldn’t last long.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Jesse definitely hasn’t been working regularly, but some days he leaves on the motorcycle at 11:30 and doesn’t return for 2-4 hours, leaving the dogs to go crazy on and off, thus proving that what vehicle he takes off with isn’t the issue. Either something’s stirring them up that we can’t see or hear, or they’re barking just to be barking. Or maybe they feel lonely, abused and neglected. I don’t know. I just know that I went and left the note in his box, despite Tom’s urging me to wait (if it were up to him Jesse would never get the note). Then I came back and said to myself, “What’s the point? Even if Jesse cares enough to control the damn dogs when he’s out, there’ll just be something else. If it’s not him that goes and does something else, someone else around here will. You know you’ll get punished for trying to quiet any source of noise life may sic on you, so what’s the point?”

Then I went and retrieved the note, took it back inside, tore it up and threw it away. That ought to score points with God. If I just accept and live with the pain, poverty and noise He loves to see me live with without fighting it, maybe then He’ll give us a break. This doesn’t mean I still won’t throw on music or fans to drown out the noise or that I won’t pop painkillers when my teeth or ear act up, but I won’t bother to try to get to the root of the problem, more or less.

Speaking of pain, it hasn’t been as bad as usual lately, so that’s nice. I don’t know how long it will last, but I’m enjoying it while it does. All I have is a little hip inflammation right now. I did a lot of walking across the parking lot yesterday where the stores are that we went to, plus I run my daily mile, plus I just scaled the hill here twice, and some parts of it are so steep it’s literally like climbing a wall, and all at 43 years of age. You really have to be in shape to get up and down that thing.

What’s amazing is that my weight has been holding steady even though I haven’t been dieting lately. I guess running a mile a day is the only way to go if you want to stuff yourself at times like I love to do. How else could I slam a batch of cookies into my face and hold the same weight? Later I’ll be slamming on a basket of French fries, too! LOL

I swear I smell like a skunk now! I don’t know if it was Tom or Jesse, but one of them hit a skunk at the fork and my clothes smelled of it when I got back inside. Although I threw my shirt in the hamper, I swear I still smell traces of it on me, even after spraying perfume on me. My nose is as good as any dog’s is, though, so I’ll probably smell it till my next shower.

The only other things we’ve been hearing around here lately is a motorcycle that sounds like a saw coming from further down the hill, plus some kind of farming equipment in that direction, too. I can’t imagine what it could be, though, as I didn’t think there were any farms in this immediate area. Yet I hear the sound of a large vehicle chugging along from around 2:00 to sundown. It definitely sounds like some sort of tractor. Could they be preparing for a new house on some land around here?

Although I’m still a bit down, I’m trying my best to accept fate. Tom insists we won’t be struggling all our lives and that it’s just a matter of time before we find our niche. Just like I found a way to lose weight after many years of trying. I was actually around 37 when I stopped being able to lose weight, much less keep what little I’d lose off. That’s when I had my ring enlarged, but then I got even bigger that I could barely stand to wear it. Today, though, I have to take it off just to shower and do dishes to keep it from going down the drain!

I kept going back and forth in my mind as to whether or not I want to lose more weight or just stay where I’m at. I think I’ll try to get into the 120s since I’m just a few pounds away, but not for about a week or so.

Anyway, as I pointed out to Tom, it takes money to make money and we don’t have money. He says he still thinks the horses could work, but that it would take $500 instead of $50 to make it happen which he just didn’t realize. I don’t think so, though.

I could also sell a book through Lulu, but again, this would take a few grand that we don’t have.

Besides, as I said to Tom, if there was a way to make money, everyone would be doing it. He said that’s why they call it a “niche.” He said he doesn’t know if it will be the horses or a website we put up, but that we’ll find it.

Yeah, when?

Meanwhile, we’re going to be setting a reserve on 3 Tonners on eBay in a few days. They’ll be listed separately but will run simultaneously and we’ll refuse to do combined shipping for the no doubt many people who will ask for it. Separate shipping would make us more money. Everybody wants something for nothing, but we can’t afford to practically give these pricey collectibles away like we did with the Barbies. Paying the rent depends on it, along with the flooring, and some of it may still have to be a few days late.

People’s greedy selfishness really disgusts me. Hell, we all want a good deal. But the way so many people expect others to just give, give, give and get nothing in return really makes me sick! Have they forgotten that these people they expect to shower them with freebies have bills to pay, too? Or do they just not give a damn?

Tom also feels certain things will change now that Obama’s officially in office. I still have to wonder if he was only picked for his color. Tom says he doesn’t think he won cuz he’s black, but because the Republicans have fucked things up so long that people were willing to vote for any Democrat that was running.

Once again I deleted the letters to my parents from MD. I figured that anyone who may want to read them has already done so. Plus, I have them backed up elsewhere so they don’t really need to be there anyway.

Tom’s feet are still swollen. He remembers the Queen having the same problem when she was his age where her feet just swelled up for no apparent reason. He’s swollen all the way up to the middle of his calves. We both agree that his weight gain is connected to this, cuz that’s quite a jump and in no time at all. He’s usually 225-230 pounds, so to jump to 262 practically overnight tells us something.

He’s started doing some low-impact exercising to hopefully bring the swelling down. I just hope it’s nothing serious. That’s all we’d need on top of my own shit!

Later…

Did Jesse leave again in the truck? We know he returned on the motorcycle at 1:15 because we heard it loud and clear, but if he slipped out in the truck we wouldn’t know it as that’s the only thing of his we can’t hear. But I can hear the fucking dogs going off right now. Again. God, I’d sure hate to think he’s up there just sitting there letting them go off like this! How utterly rude that would be! That would also go against what he told me. His exact words were, “I try to keep my dogs quiet.” Well, they’re far from quiet now, but hey, I’m on days now. So why wouldn’t they be going off, right?

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Jesse’s certainly not going roaring off on his motorcycle anytime soon. Not with this rain. Yeah, no more warm afternoons in shorts. It’s pretty chilly out there now and it’s going to be rainy and damp for a few days. Jesse could still take off in the truck and leave us to deal with his fucking dogs, but we do intend to deal with the situation soon enough. We agreed that Tom would be the one to talk to him. Tom feels he may have a harder time understanding me because I’m from the East and talk differently. I say the guy’s just your typical dumb-ass male. Like I said before, he may be crafty, but he’s still a guy, most of whom are stupid idiots. And as long as he’s going to interrupt, ramble and change subjects wildly like he does, of course he’s not always going to get what people are trying to tell him. Hopefully, Tom will just get to the point and let him know that hey, we know it’s not his fault and that he probably hasn’t a clue as to what goes on when he’s not here, but we’d like him to do something so we no longer have to deal with this racket. We didn’t come here for this shit!

We can’t make him take responsibility and we can’t control how he may react. Maybe he’ll take things personally and come undone like the Phoenix freeloaders, but I don’t think so. Then again, I don’t care how he takes it as long as he does something to restore the peace around here. Today it’s quiet cuz of the rain and the fact that he hasn’t left yet, but half the time it’s noisy and it never used to be like this. Since last October or November, the barking has been much more frequent and longer-lasting. If he does have an I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude, we’ll move as soon as we can, but I can tell you one thing for sure and that’s that I won’t be going out of here peacefully if we’re forced to move cuz he won’t shut the damn things up. I guess it will depend on how badly he wants us to stay. People who own sites like OLS can continue to ignore member requests for things they want because they can well afford to, and while Jesse may be able to afford to lose $825 a month, I would still think he’d rather not do so and therefore risk getting the kinds of thieves he had in here last time around.

We both got wins today. He won a Flip video camera from Pepsi, and I got the coffee and CD I won.

Later…

Just when I thought we were going to get to go the whole day without any barking, the dogs go crazy. Obviously, Jesse took off in the truck. Damn! Can’t the cock stay home all day for just one day? Just one day? Tom thinks he went to bring the trash to Maryann’s.

Anyway, that so-called farming equipment I’ve been hearing lately may very well actually be the freeloaders’ dirt bike which Jesse said they had. When I opened the bathroom window and listened, that’s what it sounded like to me. How ironic that as soon as they’re ordered to keep their dogs on their own damn land they start with the dirt bike. It’s like they just have to do something to be annoying. I’ve noticed this trait in people. If they can’t do one thing, they just go and do something else. I’m a little worried Jesse may do the same thing, although I would think he’d just do nothing at all about the barking before he’d control the barking and then do something else.

Kim traded in noise for noise. When I mentioned all the door-slamming she was quick to say she’d curb it for me, and I thought, wow, she took that quite well for a Westerner! Then she goes and starts with the car stereo instead.

I almost wish - if Jesse absolutely must replace the dogs with something - that we could return to the days of him coming down here as much as he used to because he certainly didn’t bug me here nearly as much as the dogs have been barking.

The more I think about it, the more a retirement community appeals to me more than rural, although I still don’t think we’ll ever own our own place again anywhere. In retirement communities, we would at least not have to worry about motorcycles, dirt bikes, sonic booms, loose dogs, and barking dogs kept outside around the clock. I would think not even the most cursed of people would get a noisy neighbor there. Besides, if they did, they could do something about it a lot easier than they could in most other places.

Tom was laughing when I said he was too positive. Well, it’s true! LOL, these woods could be engulfed in flames and he’d still be like, “Everything’s fine. Just relax. We’ll be okay.”

Waste of time or not, when I was going through my usual list of ‘we-should-haves’ - we should have run the freeloaders out and stayed in Phoenix, we should have stayed in Arizona, we should have stayed in Oregon - to spare ourselves from the disasters we went through, he said that while he could see my point, the adventures, and even the disasters, were still kind of fun. Wow, he’s got a pretty strange definition of “fun” if that’s how he feels! Then again, I guess it depends on which disasters you’re judging. Sure, the Oregon disaster was actually quite a joyride compared to the one here. And I can’t believe I thought that between the trains, planes, and cruise itself, it was oh-so rough of a trip. What a picnic compared to the 8-month “trip” we were on coming here!

The abortion protesters are pissing me off again. Why can’t they just not get an abortion if they don’t want one and leave everybody else the hell alone?!

I forgot to mention the frogs. We hear them at night, usually more so when it rains, and they sound pretty neat.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

We listed 3 dressed Tonner dolls earlier for $49 each. I hope they sell! We’ll find out on Tuesday.

The frogs have been ribbeting up a storm due to all the rain we’ve had.

The last two days have been wonderfully quiet. Just a few barks and a minute of the freeloaders revving up their dirt bikes, if that’s what it really is.

I guess I’ll call this an entry, as short as it is. There just isn’t anything else to say right now.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

The drama queen sent a message saying she passed my birthday message on to Lisa and that she hopes I’m well. I replied with a quick: U 2. Still not wanting regular contact with her, I thought I should keep it brief, yet there was no reason not to acknowledge the message.

How do I feel? Pretty much the same. She did what she did. She didn’t do what she didn’t do. And in the end, the past cannot be changed. As for the here and now; we’re still two very different people living in two very different parts of the country.

Do I think she’s reading my journal? Before I wasn’t sure, but now I’m thinking no, probably not. Wouldn’t she be getting pissed over some of the things I’ve written and let me know if she were? Then again, maybe she realizes that opinions are like assholes, everybody’s got ‘em. She also may realize that one’s belief in something doesn’t necessarily make it wrong just because we may not all agree. She says the best color is purple. I say it’s pink. Yet that doesn’t make me any more or less correct.

When will I write my folks next? I’ll probably send letters mostly on birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, that sort of thing.

Well, it had been a peaceful day up until right before 6:00, but then the dogs started going off. Whether or not it was more than just a few barks, I don’t know. I didn’t want to hear it so I threw the music on. The only other thing we heard from today was all the frogs. They’re still pretty active, even though it was sunny throughout most of the day.

I’m surprised the dogs took so long to make themselves heard. When Tom returned from the flooring place it was already after 2:00. I then made the comment about how Jesse must’ve been home all day so far because it had been quiet, but Tom said he didn’t see his truck up there.

The flooring place was closed today, so he has to return tomorrow. I can’t believe the store was closed on Sunday of all days! That’s when most people are off work.

One of the dolls has a couple of watchers, but no bids yet. I wouldn’t expect much action until Tuesday.

I offered to sell 4-5 more Tonners I don’t absolutely have to have that are just okay and that I’ve enjoyed for enough time now if only to raise money to help get the TV and his Mac back, but Tom said I didn’t have to do that unless I wanted to. He said worst-case scenario he could get up enough money easily enough to buy the TV back, then sell it outright on Craigslist, then use that money to get the Mac. Knowing how he overestimates things and puts too much faith in whatever, this would probably be easier said than done.

If only we’d gotten 50 gallons of propane instead of 100! We just didn’t think we’d have that warm spell in January of all months, though it’s gotten cold again. It’s going to get down into the 30s tonight but will warm back up in a few days. They’re getting snow at the highest point of the Sierras, something I’m glad we won’t get!

As for the program, there’s both good and bad news where that’s concerned. Yes, it does exactly what Tom created it to do. But not nearly as fast as he thought it would. It would take years for the money to build up enough to be our sole source of income without putting hundreds of dollars into it. Better slower than never, but for now I’m going to continue assuming we’re going to be struggling all or most of our lives without ever owning a house again. If I think positively, I could only end up disappointed in the end. But if we ever do get more than we – or I – expect, then I’ll be pleasantly surprised which will make it all the more exciting.

Anyway, the program’s not going anywhere till he gets a job if even that much is still possible. With a job, just $50 would eventually get it to where we want it to go. We don’t feel the need to invest more money to speed things up because we’re not in a bad place we’re desperate to escape. The only time the place sucks is when the dogs won’t shut up. Well, that and when I get to wishing we had just one more room and an additional half-bath!

Monday, January 26, 2009

The swelling in Tom’s feet, which seems to be water retention, dropped dramatically. He went down 5 pounds overnight. It still comes and goes, but hopefully it will continue to improve. He’s now using the heat massager on his feet which helps.

Attitudes about those threatening suicide have really changed since I tried to take my own life as a teenager over 20 years ago. Nowadays people are quick to get involved and want to help. They don’t write off most threats as mere cries for attention like they did years ago. There’s this lady on OLS who says a teenager on Pogo is threatening suicide. Years ago most people would be quick to tell her, “Don’t get involved. It’s not your problem. It’s probably just an attention-getter. You don’t even know that they’re really a teenager. They’d only take advantage of you if you pay them any mind and use suicide threats as a crutch. Besides, if they do kill themselves, it’s their life, and you’re not responsible for their actions.”

When I threw myself out a 2nd-story window and ended up with a broken arm when I was 17, I was treated as if I had killed a dozen innocent people for no reason at all. Some people smothered me, but most alienated me, making me feel much worse and even sorry that I survived. I was treated like a walking disease. I was made to feel ashamed of myself and I shouldered all the blame for many years, as young as I was.

“Try it again. Maybe next time you’ll succeed,” were the first words out of my mother’s mouth when she came to see me in the hospital. I never forgot those words. Definitely the wrong thing to say to make someone feel better about living, that’s for sure! I think – at least I hope – that even if my mother wouldn’t ever admit it, she at least realizes the error of her words and that she would react differently today, for no one attempts suicide that isn’t absolutely miserable. I’m glad more people today realize that you can’t solve problems with a bottle of pills, isolation, and insensitive words.

I was amazed when I read all the comments offering to pray for this mere electronic being in cyberspace whom they’d never met. Yet of all the dozens of people that I had to live with at the private school in which I tried to kill myself, who prayed for me? Nobody. Not one single, solitary soul.

And who came to visit me at the hospital while I lay there with my arm in a cast besides my parents? No one. Why? Because I “brought it on myself,” the school staff decided. No, no one could influence a 17-year-old to want to die, could they? No, it just had to be all my own doing and all for attention, despite the fact that most people with a rational mind would agree that jumping from a 2nd-story window is a rather risky way to get attention.

So the support I needed was kept from me, all because I was a “spoiled, manipulative little attention-getter.”

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Esme sold for $53 but the others didn’t budge. Angelina had a watcher at one point, but nothing for Tyler. Tom’s going to check out a doll store about 25 miles away tomorrow that buys dolls and does consignment. Depending on what they say, we may relist the dolls that didn’t sell, plus put up other stuff. We’re actually gearing up to go on quite a selling frenzy, although it might be a day or two before we list more stuff. We have other dolls, coins, books and stuff like that which we could afford to get out of our way. Our space is very limited here, so anything we don’t want can gladly go.

After he checks out the doll store, he’s going to check out a different flooring store over in Grass Valley. I’m pretty sure some of the rent is going to have to be late either way.

I simply don’t share Tom’s optimistic view of the future. It looks so bleak to me. How can it not when no one’s hiring anywhere in the country but maybe Vegas? I still say we’re looking at being broke the rest of our lives if we don’t kill ourselves first to escape homelessness. And the threat of homelessness still looms over my head every day. Just the thought of it and knowing it’s a possibility can really sap one’s will to carry on. I know we’ll never own a house again. There’s no doubt about that. I’d have to win incredibly big and I don’t think I will. Not if we’re really not meant to have a home of our own as I’m getting surer of each year that’s gone by since 2004. I don’t understand how Tom can be so optimistic. I mean, he seems too smart to be naïve, so I just don’t get it. How can he say things are going to work out? If they do work out, it’d be in a half-assed sort of way. Meaning that just because we may get enough money to live on in the end doesn’t mean we’ll ever own a house.

I pointed out to Tom how a quarter of the unemployment checks are going to Jesse and he said, that’s okay, it’s free money and he loves not working, even though, as he says, he’s been sitting so much that it’s making him fat.

As mean and hurtful as it was (and definitely not the way to help someone with a weight problem), and as much as it was usually Tammy who got called a pig as a child rather than me, had my mother called me a pig tonight, she’d have been correct! I don’t understand what causes it, but sometimes I have these days where I’m always hungry and it seems nothing fills me up until I literally stuff myself so full I could almost burst.

So anyway, Tom thinks he’ll get a job, we won’t always struggle, and we won’t always live in NorCal either. He thinks we’ll own a place too, of course. He says he’s going by our history of not staying in the same place for too many years. Oh, I’m going by history too. The one where we moved to Oregon and came a little closer to disaster than I’d like, and the one where we moved to California and came more than just “close” to disaster and were damn near killed! So unless we’re moving to a place that already exists or we have a ton of money to build the home I can’t ever imagine us having, I won’t be wandering off very far at all.

For 3 evenings in a row, the dogs have gone off right before 6:00. Fortunately, these fits haven’t lasted long and there have been few other fits along the way, but if there’s one thing I dread about the economy improving, it’s Jesse going back to work. My guess is that he’s been home this much due to a lack of construction jobs. Could be that he’s not desperate for money as well, but I think the lack of jobs has something to do with it. Well, if he ever gets to working full-time like he was before Christmas, and if he doesn’t do something about the dogs, it’s going to really be hell around here and I’m not looking forward to it!

The rain and the frogs have gone away and it’s to be in the 60s over the next few days. Warm enough not to need heat during the daytime.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

I still wonder what the purpose is in our lives. Why do we keep living? What’s it all for? I still don’t see the point. Not that I’m saying we’re going to kill ourselves, or that I’d write about it if we were, but things seem so depressing right now. Ok, so maybe part of it is PMS, but it still seems like we’re stuck in this endless rut that just goes on and on and on. It’s been months now and there doesn’t seem to be any end coming anytime soon. When, if ever, will things change? He loves being home and getting free money, but we both agree it would be better for him to have a job that pays more money and provides us both with affordable insurance, even if it’s not a job he’d like very much.

He assures me we’ll be okay in the end and that someday we’ll be able to get a house, but I just don’t see it happening. I wish I could, but I don’t. Then again, do I really want to “see” something that very well may not exist?

I feel that we’ve lived up to our full potential, so to speak, and that any chance we may’ve ever had of achieving any kind of security or success is forever gone. We talked about how we screwed up when moving to Maricopa and then to Oregon due to being inexperienced and not knowing what we were doing. To have fucked up that bad – and twice – makes me think something up there deliberately guided us in all the wrong directions just to see us fail. Has anyone else ever fucked up as badly as we did when it comes to buying land and building houses??? Tom had a point when he said, “Who’d have thought that mountain in Oregon would be volcanic and therefore nearly impossible to dig a septic in? And how could we possibly have known Oregon was such a backward state in so many ways?”

Tom is still amazed that such backwardness could exist today.

To me, my feeling so down and hopeless isn’t just about being late with some of the rent. It’s about believing nothing will ever change for us in any significant way. Not for long anyway. This is about the fact that I’m simply tired of life. Nothing excites me anymore. I just can’t think of anything new and exciting anymore. Not that I wouldn’t take it if it came, but even winning a thousand-dollar shopping spree wherever wouldn’t be all that big of a deal at this point. It seems so many of the things I used to look forward to just don’t appeal to me anymore. A house doesn’t excite me anymore because I don’t think it’s a possibility. Getting rid of some of these dolls is now more exciting to me than getting them used to be. I guess it’s a case of new pennies losing their shine over time, plus the fact that dusting over 100 pieces of collectibles of various kinds gets really old after a while.

I’m trying to live for the moment and let the future take care of itself, but it’s a lot easier said than done at times. I just feel we’re so doomed. Year after year we continue to struggle with a few scattered breaks in between that don’t last long. I continue to wait for the insurance that never comes. And now I’m afraid I’m waiting for a house and even a job that may never come.

I still don’t see the purpose of carrying on just to struggle and never have the things we want in life. As I reminded Tom, we have no jobs or kids to hold us back from killing ourselves. No obligations whatsoever. So why wait around for things to get worse if they’re going to? Why grow old and have no one to help take care of us in the end?

Then he begs me to just give things a little more time, even though I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing for months now. Just giving things a little more time. Meanwhile, nothing’s changed.

Tom saw Jesse working on the bulldozer with the kid after wasting his time today going to the doll “store” that’s really someone’s house. Now I hope he’s finally learned his lesson about calling places first! He was going to check out the other flooring store too, but sure enough, his feet decided to drain a bit, so he had to come home and pee. He’s now pretty sure it’s the chair that’s causing all the water retention.

I’m up two pounds to 134 pounds, thanks to a combination of retaining water myself, plus the binging spree I just had to go on yesterday for reasons I still can’t figure out. What made me so damn hungry like that? And why am I hardly hungry at all today? I still don’t get what causes me to be hungry some days and not so hungry other days. I ended up stuffing 2300 calories into my fat face! I rarely have 2000 in a day, so 2300 was definitely a rarity for me. It’s kind of disgusting when I think about it, but oh well. What’s done is done.

Anyway, we were both wondering why the kid would be with Jesse during school hours. I didn’t hear anything this evening, but maybe the reason the dogs were going off right before 6:00 the last few evenings was that that’s when he was bringing the kid back.

He didn’t talk to Jesse because the kid was there and he didn’t want to give him time to think about the fact that we’ll only be paying half the rent on the 1st, while the other half has to wait a few days till the next unemployment check arrives. Tom doesn’t want him to get a chance to talk to Maryann and be persuaded by her to charge late fees, which I would absolutely refuse to pay. Technically one has a 10-day grace period to pay any of it, but we’d be paying half of it on time so that’s two weeks’ worth of rent. We can’t give him money we don’t have before we have it to give to him, so he’s just going to have to accept that. I don’t think there’ll be a problem, but so help me God, if he gives us any shit – any shit at all – I’ll be up there so fast beating him so black and blue he won’t be able to sit for days! And that doesn’t include the fact that he’ll also be shitting teeth for a week after I put my fist down his throat.

It’s usually the spoiled little rich snobs who have no concept of what it’s like to struggle and can’t just take what they can get when they can get it and leave it at that. Believe me when I say this guy hardly seems like he’s hard up for bucks. If he is, then appearances really are deceiving in his case! He’s got a beautiful house, a beautiful piece of land, a brand new truck, a Harley, another truck, and I’d be willing to bet just about anything that they’re all paid for. I still don’t think there’ll be a problem, like I said, because good people are hard to find and I don’t think he wants the hassle of having to go through hunting for renters that may or may not be thieves like the last ones were. I hope not anyway, but since God’s not answering many of my prayers lately, I won’t bother asking Him for any help with this. We’re truly on our own in this world.

Tom evened out my hair with the haircutter a few days ago. It’s closer to one length again and just barely brushes my shoulders. I have just enough to pull into a little stub of a ponytail to get it off my neck when running, but not enough to be nearly the pain in the ass and hard work it used to be. Yup, my long hair days definitely could be over the more I get used to the ease of having it short. I’ve cut it more in the last 8 months than in 20 years altogether! It might be a pain in the ass to have to trim it every month cuz it grows so fast, but better to be a pain once a month, than every day like it used to be when I could sit on it. Just trying to pee with it was a challenge, having to drape the hair to the side just to keep it out of the way. At bedtime, I can now throw it up in a little bun at the crown of my head. Before I had to braid it and toss it up over the pillow and it didn’t always use to stay put throughout the night.

Esme was mailed off to Tennessee today (she almost went to France). Tomorrow we’ll relist Tyler and Angelina after we drop the price by $10. I have 3 other Tonners I’d be okay with selling after that. Tom urged me not to sell anything I don’t want to sell, so I’m selling just a few more that are just so-so and nothing special. That’d be Emme, a replica of a real-life heavy model, and also Emilie and Glinda. When I looked at these dolls and asked myself if I’d rather get the money they could bring or keep them, the money won over the dolls. I should get a couple hundred for the 5 of them. Actually, I may add one of the Sydney Chase dolls, so that’d make it more than $200, especially since I’d be selling only one as a basic. These are all 16” dolls. As for the 22” American Model doll, I haven’t yet fully talked myself into listing her, but I might.

Thursday, January 29, 2009

I’m amazed at the feedback I’ve been getting on MD saying how much people love my diary! It’s “well-written and honest,” so I’m told, and I should cheer up too, as things will get better. I sure hope so! I’d have thought my diary would be getting too depressing to read at this point. Seriously, I feel like I haven’t had anything happy to say for quite a while. Well, with the spell Mary is doing for us with a little help on our part, maybe I’ll have happier things to write about soon. I sure do hope so!

The few spells I’ve tried have been worthless, but Tom says it’s because I get impatient and don’t always give things a chance or follow through with completing the spells. I commented on the Return to Sender spell not helping, and he reminded me that there’s a difference between a curse and bad luck. Bad luck is where we’re at now with him being laid off while being set up and tossed in jail, losing our land/house in Arizona, then our land in Oregon, along with other shit we went through, was rather extreme, thus being considered a curse. As Tom reminded me, that particular spell was to lift curses and doesn’t help bad luck in any way like it helped break the curse.

Well, let’s just hope Mary’s spell helps. She says it takes up to 13 days for a spell to manifest and 27 to complete, so we should see a difference by February 27th, since she cast it on the 25th. As I reminded her, we’re nowhere close to being in the desperate fix we were in back in the motel. Technically we’re not even in any serious danger of any kind, just not as comfortable as we’d like to be. Who is these days? Still, a $500 win would come in real handy now and make us plenty comfortable as long as we were wise about it.

She also sent an article on dealing with family issues for me to give to Tammy, but as I told her, I don’t know her current address for sure and don’t want to have any contact either.

Nathan, the guy she’s seeing, is a lawyer. She said she’d mention my willingness to do research for him or anything else within my means for minimum wage. Even just a couple hundred a month would go a long way to making things more comfortable for us.

We relisted Angelina and Tyler. Angelina’s already got 1 watcher. Now that we know where it’s at, we can also see that she’s had 7 views while Tyler’s had 5. This hardly seems like much in the 8 hours they’ve been listed. We’re running them for 7 days this time around instead of 3, and if they sell at the $39 they’re now listed at, we’ll put up 4 more a couple of days apart from one another. Tom also has some odds and ends he’s going to list as well. It’s fun whether you need the money or not!

Saturday, January 31, 2009

I wanted to run an hour, but due to the heat, I could only do 20 minutes. An hour is about a 600-calorie burn, which would let me easily eat up to 1500 cals a day if I wanted to and still lose weight.

I wish I felt more optimistic about our future, but I still feel like we’re struggling just to get nowhere. It seems there are obstacles and setbacks just waiting to jump out at us at every corner we turn. Today it was camera trouble and he finding out that he’d have to pay $50 in sales tax on the flooring. He’s still going to mention it when he tells Jesse tomorrow that we can only pay half the rent till the 4th. We read the rental agreement in which a standard form that appears to have been downloaded from the net said they’d charge a $25 late fee if the rent wasn’t paid by the 3rd, but since half of it will be paid a day before the 1st, I’m hoping that will be okay. Like I said, it’s all going to depend on how greedy and insensitive the spoiled little rich boy up there is. He has no choice but to wait till the 4th to get it all, and I’ll be damned if we’ll pay any late fees as long as we have to keep listening to his fucking dogs which, coincidentally, started up as soon as I got up. I just don’t understand why they’ve gotten to be such a problem!

Tom thinks Mary’s spell will help us because we finally received that $5 gas card yesterday that we’d given up on and weren’t expecting. Well, I sure hope it helps because I really miss our old life in Oregon. Some of it anyway. I don’t miss the cold or living in that tilted old dump of a house, and of course the noise was much worse, but we had so few stressful days there. I know, though, that by now the shit would’ve hit the fan there, too. He’d have lost his job and been unable to get unemployment, so maybe things would’ve ended up worse. We can never know for sure. We just know we learned the hard way that Oregon makes collecting unemployment very hard to do.

I just hope we survive to get another chance to do things right. So right that it’d take a hell of an awful lot to yank the carpet out from under our feet for the millionth time. Now that we’ve learned about saving and can discipline ourselves from spending, I’d really, really like a shot at saving tons of money and creating a serious cushion for us! It may take a while to do, but if God could let Tom have a job, that’d be a good way to start!

God.

What in the world is up with Him lately? I’m getting the things I’ve been praying NOT to get for months now! Yet He has no problem whatsoever granting the prayers of the bigots who prayed to strip gays of their rights?! WTF?! Do I have to ask for bad and unfair things just to be heard? Do I have to ask that He inflict pain and suffering upon people? Ok, God, go find Joely N, Debra V, Jerry O, Paul K, The DA and Judge H and turn on the suffering! May You lavish all kinds of pain, loss, misery and financial hell upon these sickos that made our lives a living hell for nearly 7 years. Have their neighbors torment them for no reason at all. And also without the slightest bit of provocation, let the law be used and abused against them like crazy! Let them lose their own jobs, their homes, experience sleepless nights, panic attacks, hunger and all kinds of money woes. Oh, and don’t forget the health problems, too. Make them suffer great pain, illness and injury and all with no insurance! Frame ‘em, maim ‘em, then let them too, come home one day to find their beloved pet dying.

Ok, I’m done venting. I shoulda used real names, though. Not only is this MY journal but hey, why not? The Arizona Republic used mine. And people PAID to read that!

Still no real interest in Tyler. She only has 7 views and no watchers. My guess is it’s the outfit. Angelina has 18 views and 4 watchers. Angelina has 18 views and 4 watchers.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hey could I please request Dream's s/o laying down on the couch after a long day, and him carrying her to bed.

A/N: doing small things for the person you love is a louder confession than yelling 'i love you' and you can not change my mind

[Sandman-inspired playlist] || [MASTERLIST] || 🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀

Being one of the Endless, the concept of time or schedules was a little lost on Morpheus. To be clear, it wasn't that he didn't understand it, he simply didn't experience the passing of time as people did. Entire centuries could go by and he'd feel as if it was a mere blink of an eye. Because of that, he tended to show up 'at your doorstep' at the most random times during the day. If he had to wait for a few hours, he was okay with that - Morpheus always managed to find something to busy himself with. On that day, he found himself at your home at the perfect time, just not the best day.

He stood in your living room, staring at you lying on the couch. You were curled up, clearly cold, but too tired to actually grab a blanket. Old or unworn clothes were scattered on the armchair and its vicinity. There was a watering can on the coffee table - either misplaced or put there on purpose because it was so hard to miss it. Right, he did remember you tended to forget about it. Next to it was an empty mug so dark with tea residue it had to be used unwashed for at least two days. A strange aroma of both laundry detergent and takeaway filled the air. Your face was strangely dark, greyish as if you had lived an entire month in the span of 24 hours. Was this normal for humans?

"I love you and all that," your raspy voice was muffled against the cushions, "I'd do anything for you but that will have to wait until tomorrow if you don't mind."

"I did not come here to ask for favours." For a moment, Morpheus wondered whether that's how you perceived him. If he had to be completely honest with himself, and that wasn't going to happen any time soon, he'd admit that the only thing he could ask of you was your affection. So far, in his opinion, you were giving it to him willingly.

"Good," you groaned against the pillow. Maybe you were going to say something else but a yawn prohibited you from doing so.

Without wasting his breath, Morpheus effortlessly lifted you off the couch. To him, it was the least he could do for you. Your cheek nuzzled against his chest and he felt his breath suddenly become a little ragged. So much time had passed since someone was so close to him... Dream's old, tired bones were only remembering what intimacy felt like. In any case, he carefully walked towards your bedroom, making sure not to shake you too much.

"You really don't have to," you said in an absent, raspy voice. It sounded as if you were going to fall asleep before he can actually put you to bed.

"I want to." Morpheus had a habit of ending discussions with those words when he was adamant about doing something for you. Most of the time you simply sighed and accepted his expression of love knowing that sometimes it was more important to let him do something for you.

The bed sheets were unpleasantly cold compared to the warmth Morpheus provided. "Don't go," you groaned feeling his arms withdraw. He took in a deep breath, suddenly realizing just how far he was willing to go to fulfil that promise. Even before meeting you, he needed Lucienne to stop him multiple times but now, when you so effortlessly asked him, the imperative that fueled all of his actions was set alight; 'too far' no longer existed. Despite that, Morpheus knew that it was a matter of minutes before you fall asleep. On the other hand, maybe he was simply afraid that giving in even once would turn into a devastating habit. Part of him welcomed that possible ruin with open arms but Morpheus tried to silence that voice as much as he could.

"I shall see you in a moment," he said quietly.

Morpheus left your bedroom and went back to the living room. With hesitation befitting a creature unfamiliar with the mundane, he took the watering can. Walking through your home, he watered every plant there was, passing the time until you fall asleep and he can finally have you all to himself. Morpheus wondered whether this is what life as a human was. In some other life, he'd very much like watering plants for you every day while you take a nap.

[reidsaurora]

"Call Me On Your Way Home" ~ S. Reid

Summary: When Y/N gets stuck at a party with Derek and needs a way home, she calls everyone's favorite boy genius to drive her home. Little did they know what their late night conversation would lead to...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,646

Content Warning: mentions of panic attacks

Extra Notes: N/A

Genre: Fluff, sorta Colleagues to Lovers but more so Friends to Lovers

Based On the Song: "On Your Way Home" by Patrick Droney

Originally Written: 01/03/2022

Criminal Minds masterlist can be found here!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

My heart was thumping loudly, my head was pounding, and my chest felt like it was closing in. I should've never agreed to come to this party with Derek.

I knew Derek meant well. He just wanted me to get out of the office and have some fun for once in a while. I knew he invited me so I could loosen up from the stresses of work, but somehow, going to that party brought on a whole new level of stress.

Somehow, I finally made my way out the metal door, taking a deep breath of cold, night air. I looked up at the sky in an attempt to distract myself from the panic attack I was having. I attempted to steady my breathing, trying to remember the breathing exercises my therapist taught me.

Finally, after a minute or so, my breathing had slowed down a little. My hands were still shaking pretty badly as I reached for my phone.

Who would I call to take me home? I couldn't ask Derek, he was probably flirting it up with some girl at the party. It was Saturday, so I couldn't call Garcia either, seeing as she went to weekly D&D nights on Saturdays.

That's when a voice rang out in my head, but not just any voice.

"No matter what time it is, I promise you can call me," was one of the first sentences Spencer ever told me once we'd officially become friends. It was then followed up with, "Call me on your way home so I know when you make it home safe and sound."

I shakily dialed Spencer's number, hoping and praying he'd pick up. I hated to call him this late at night, but that's what I get for letting Derek drive me.

I exhaled deeply as I heard the phone beginning to ring. I looked around to make sure I was safe, and then quickly dug through my bag to find my pepper spray in case I needed it.

"Y/N?" Spencer grumbled, having just woken up. His morning voice was so cute.

"Hey, Spencer," I replied nervously.

"Are you OK? You don't normally call this late," he pointed out.

"I know," I said, looking at my feet. "Um, I hate to bother you, but is there any chance you could pick me up?"

"You're not a bother. Where are you? Let me get changed and I'll be on my way."

"I'm at the corner of Brook Street and Nelson Street."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Stay safe, OK?"

I leaned back against the wall, I could feel my breathing speeding back up. I knew I was about to have another panic attack.

"Are you alright? Your breathing sounds off," he examined.

"You think I could keep you on the phone until you get here?" I asked, shaking my opposite hand as I spoke.

"Sure."

☆☆☆

About twenty minutes had passed and I finally saw Spencer's car pulling up. I was regretting going to a party in the busiest part of D.C, but luckily, there was a 24-hour cafe across the street, so I waited there until Spencer arrived.

I hung up the phone before walking out the door of the cafe. I was holding two cups of coffee, seeing as it was the least I could do after waking him up in the middle of the night. Spencer got out of the car before opening the door for me and taking the coffee.

"Sorry, I took so long," he apologized, closing the door behind me before quickly jogging to his side of the car.

"No, it's alright," I attempted to reassure him.

"You didn't have to get me anything, you know," he said as he buckled himself in.

"Who said it was for you?" I giggled.

The two of us continued talking as he drove off. It was refreshing and very needed, seeing as I hadn't gone on a late night drive in probably a year.

I took a moment to examine the situation. There was Spencer, who was in gray sweatpants and a Henley shirt. And then there was me: black party dress, sparkly heels, glitter in my hair, and smudged mascara. We looked like we belonged in two different universes, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

No matter what we talked about, Spencer and I always seemed to have the best conversations. We talked any and every chance we got. There were days where Hotch had to separate us on both cases and office work because we were distracted by talking to each other.

Somehow or another, we got off on the conversation of pets. I'd been thinking about getting a dog but decided against it, seeing as I had no one to leave it with when I was away on cases.

"Well then, what would you name a dog? Since Archie is such a bad name," I joked as he criticized my dog names.

"I think it depends on the breed and the personality of the dog. I mean, you wouldn't name a Jack Russell terrier 'Tsunami', would you? The same way you wouldn't name a rottweiler 'Cupcake', right?"

"You do have a point, I suppose," I agreed with his statement.

"OK, name a couple of dog breeds and I'll tell you what I'd name them."

I thought for a moment. "OK, how about a golden retriever?"

"Buddy."

"Aww, that's cute, Spence," I smiled.

"I can't tell if that's sarcasm or not," he said.

I giggled before going back to our previous conversation topic. "Alright, what would you name a basset hound?"

"Hmm, this might sound stereotypical, but I think I'd choose something like Hank."

"Alright, what about a miniature pinscher?"

"Hmm," he thought for a moment, "Scotty."

"Is that a Star Trek reference?"

"Maybe…" his voice trailed off. "What about you? What would you name a miniature pinscher?"

"I like Lucy," I answered.

"That's cute, I guess," he replied. "What would you name a husky?"

"Oh, I've thought about this one," I answered proudly, "Boris."

"Huh, that's what I was gonna say," he replied with a sort of strange smile.

"You know, huskies are my f-"

"Favorite dog breed."

I thought for a moment about what he said. I never realized just how much attention Spencer paid to the things I said. I talked all the time about dog breeds with Penelope, but I never knew Spencer heard me.

"Huh, that's strange that we both had the same name picked out," Spencer observed.

"Well then, I think it's settled. We should get a husky together and name him Boris," I joked, a large smile on my face.

"I agree," he smiled back.

☆☆☆

"You seriously don't have to walk me to the door," I reassured Spencer as we started our walk up to my third floor apartment.

"Are you kidding? After what happened to Elle and the fact that your apartment is right by the stairs, I wanna make sure you make it inside OK," he told me.

And so, we walked up the stairs in silence, other than the sounds of us taking in deep breaths of the night air.

After finally reaching my apartment, I unlocked the door and turned on the living room light.

"No signs of anyone here," I said.

"There could be someone hiding out in one of the other rooms," he stated. "Uh, maybe I should make sure there's no one here."

"Uh, OK."

Spencer walked into the apartment after me, quickly surveying my bedroom and the bathroom. My apartment was smaller, seeing as I lived alone, so there weren't many rooms where anyone could be hiding.

"All clear," he shrugged.

"Thank you," I replied before giving him a hug.

This hug seemed to linger a little longer than our normal hugs. He smelled nice, the way all men smelled when they'd just had a shower. The fabric of his shirt was soft against my skin.

"I'll see you Monday," he told me before exiting my apartment.

I closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh afterward.

"I love Spencer," I thought suddenly.

This was the first time I could remember thinking this. Sure, I pretty much knew I loved him, but this felt like the moment I finally let myself know it was true.

Ever since we'd started working together, I knew there was something special about our friendship, and now I knew exactly what it was.

Only about fifteen seconds passed before I heard a knock on the door. Sure that it was Spencer, I opened the door without even looking through the peephole.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"I don't like you living alone," he told me point blankly.

"Huh?"

"I think it would be wise for you to get a guard dog. In fact, 65% of convicted felons agree that a guard dog would've more than likely scared them away. And with the right breed, you -"

I cut him off by kissing him, knowing if I didn't, he would've continued on for hours. Not that I minded, I loved the sound of Spencer's voice, but I couldn't keep myself away from him any longer.

It only took about two seconds before he kissed back, immediately calming down once he realized what was happening. He tasted slightly like the coffee we'd been drinking earlier.

He pulled away shyly, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. He had an awkward smile on his face like he was unsure of what to say next.

"I have a better idea," I stated, wrapping my arms around his stomach, "Since we both like the name Boris, why don't we just become roommates and get a husky together?"

"I am assuming by that kiss that we would be much more than roommates," he examined.

"Only if you wanna be."

"I wanna be, very much."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

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☆𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒☆

[karumashadowchicken]

hiii! can i request a one shot story where the yandere (they see you as someone who needs to be protected 24/7) bau (original bau, you can include prentiss or elle, i don’t mind either or) reacts to the reader escaping them? like all of you have been living together and keeping the reader hostage somewhere and they escape successfully from the bau? ty!! ❤️❤️

I was just watching Criminal minds as I checked my Tumbler-

Here you go- I used she\her pronouns, but I can change them if you would like- Just message me and I'll edit a copy! :)

-I think that the yandere bau wouldn't keep y/n hostage, since they are FBI. Instead I think y/n would work with them. You might think that would put them in danger, but it really wouldn't.

-They would get to spend all their time with y/n, and Hotch would never let them on any dangerous missions. Not to mention they could always stay back, and have Garcia keep an eye on them.

-I feel like y/n would be less of an escape, and more of a plan to go off the grid, and hide away.

So, here we go!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Escaping was tough. It had taken a lot of time, and planning. Luckily, no one had noticed, since you managed to plan it all in your head. It started with getting a burner phone, so you couldn't be tracked. Then getting a new car, after 'someone' had scratched your car. A nice car, that didn't have a tracker, or GPS.

You sold your house, opting to 'move in' with Garcia.

You even moved all your stuff into Garica's apartment. At this point, you were okay with leaving some things behind.

Then, you went to the store, and took that opportunity to leave.

~~~~~~

Garcia was working with some files on her laptop in her apartment. She barely looked up at the clock and noticed the time. That was weird, you should have been back by now.

Garcia struggled it off, and decided she would give you a few more minutes before calling you if you didn't get back by then. When 15 minutes more had gone by, she called you. Obviously getting no answer.

That's when she started to get worried, and called Morgan. He picked up the phone with a sigh, and made some dumb flirty remark. "Derek, have you seen y/n?" He shook his head, even though he was on the phone with her, "No, I Haven't. Why? Is everything okay?" Garcia checked to see if you had returned home yet. "Y/n left to go to the store, an hour and a half ago. She hasn't come back yet, and she won't answered her phone."

Derek replied calmly, "chill out Garcia, people go to the store, and sometimes it takes a few hours." Garcia interrupted his next sentence, "The store is right beside the apartment, it should have only taken 15 minutes! To walk there and back, maybe 20!"

Derek bit his lip, "You have a point, Don't get to worked up. I'll call Reid."

Derek called Reid who picked up the phone with a curious tone, "hey Morgan, I was just thinking-" Reid tired to explain some smart person theory before Derek cut him off. "Have you seen y/n?"

"Uh, nope, no. Why?" Reid asked shaking his head, and putting down his book.

"is everything okay with y/n?"

Derek sat down worriedly, "We can't find y/n. She won't pick up her phone."

Garcia and Derek got talking again, "do you think they ran away?"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lets clarify that they think y/n could never do anything wrong, and needs to be protected. even when they find you, they'll act like you were kidnapped. Even if you tell them you ran away, they won't belive you. Saying "I know your scared, it's okay now>"

~~~~~~~~~~

Once they found that no one knew where you went, they quickly dropped whatever case they were working on. A missing FBI agent is priority number one.

I guess you thought you hide well, but they still found you. In a new apartment you bought three towns over. They broke down the door, convinced someone was holding you hostage. Deciding to play along with it would be your best decisions, if you don't want them to be very prohibiting with you.

Hotch, and Derek would have broke into your apartment and searched it for any unsub's, while Reid would quickly rush over to you. Reid would let Garcia know they found you, and that your okay, but it would seem that the person holding you captive had gotten away.

Your best bet would to keep quiet. They'll ask what the unsub looked like, and you would say something basic, like White, male, black hoodie, with brown hair, and brown eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they made sure you were safe, they never you leave to go anywhere by yourself. Derek, Reid, or even Hotch would go visit family with you. They would tell everyone that you were kidnapped, and that's why they need to keep an eye on you, because they never caught the guy.

In the end you kinda helped them, keep you 'captive' a bit better. Now they have a reason to hold you in a tighter grasp.

I hope you liked the story, sorry that its so vague. I'm waiting on a Covid-Test and I'm kinda worried.