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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years

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The eye-glazing scam of Medicare drug plans

CORRECTION: An earlier version of this article erroneously claimed Simon Lovell had passed away; I misremembered my contribution to a 2015 medical fundraiser for Mr Lovell as a contribution to a funeral expenses fundraiser. My sincere apologies to Mr Lovell (and I’m delighted to learn I was wrong!).

Indie bookstores can change your life. In 2007, I wandered into NYC’s St Marks’ Bookstore (RIP) and picked up a book from the recommended table: “How to Cheat at Everything,” by Simon Lovell, and I learned how to spot a scam. It’s a skill I use every day, especially when analyzing how corporate America works the US government:

https://memex.craphound.com/2007/02/02/how-to-cheat-at-everything/

I grew up in countries — Canada, the UK — with universal health care and now I live in the US. The NHS and OHIP aren’t perfect, but neither set off my scam-meter the way that the American system does. The whole thing is a scam, top to bottom.

Here’s a key lesson from Lovell’s book: “complexity in a proposition bet is only there to make it harder for you to figure out the odds.” In other words, if a grifter at a bar tells you that they’ll pay you 3:1 if you can do X, and 5:1 if you can do Y, and 9:1 if you can do X and Y, all of those different payouts are solely there to confuse you.

If you want to see this in action, just visit any casino and ask a croupier to explain the craps payout lines to you, and try to do the odds in your head while you get that explanation. What’s the least-worst bet on the craps table? (There are no good bets on a craps table). Without a spreadsheet and several hours of analysis, you probably can’t know.

The flamboyant, mind-clouding complexity in US health care starts with health insurance. Insurance, after all, is just a proposition bet: “If you contract this illness, we pay this much; if you need this drug, we pay this much. Pay an extra $20/month, and we’ll reduce your co-pay by this much, but only once you’ve covered your deductible. Pay $3/month more and your deductible goes down by this much. Oh, and here’s your HSA, which will accrue tax-free savings you can use for some of this. What’s a before-tax dollar worth? Sorry, that’s another spreadsheet.”

You’d think that government health insurance — Medicare and Medicaid — would be immune to this kind of gamesmanship, but you’d be wrong. When you become Medicare-eligible, you still need to buy a drug plan. Those drug plans are provided via private-sector companies like Humana. They are a scam.

Twice a year, Medicare has an “open enrollment” period, just like other US insurers. During open enrollment, you are encouraged to use the Medicare Plan Finder to sort through all the different plans. You feed in your prescriptions, it pops out a recommendation. You can even talk it over with a trusted broker before you pick. It feels like a straightforward transaction, but it’s still a scam.

Here’s how the scam works. Remember that you can only change plans twice a year. Given that, you’ve likely assumed that once you choose a plan, its rates remain constant for that duration: if you agree to pay $X for your prescriptions from January to June, then the pharma plan operator is agreeing only to charge you $X over that period, right?

Wrong. As Susan Jaffe writes for Kaiser Health News, even though you guarantee that you will use your pharma plan provider for the next six months, your pharma plan provider makes no guarantees to you about how much that will cost you.

https://khn.org/news/article/medicare-drug-plan-prices-open-enrollment-rise/

Jaffe opens with the story of retired construction accountant Linda Griffith, who signed up for a Humana plan last December that promised her a $70.09 co-pay for her monthly prescription, but when the plan kicked in a month later, Humana cranked the price up to $275.90.

This isn’t an anomaly. As an AARP study found, the pharma plan providers routinely lower their payouts to something close to list-price just before open enrollment, so that the plan-shopping tools show that they’re a good deal, then, as soon as the open enrollment closes and patients are locked in, they crank the prices up.

https://blog.aarp.org/thinking-policy/prices-for-most-top-medicare-part-d-drugs-have-already-increased-in-2022

These companies will tell you that they’re bargaining hard with the pharma companies to get prices down, and they are, but only so that they can shift a larger proportion of the scam’s winnings from pharma, to pharma benefit managers, to insurers. You don’t share in the bounty. You are the bounty.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/11/number-eight/#erisa

For decades, Democrats have been campaigning to repeal the law that prohibits Medicare from directly negotiating with pharma companies, but they’ve failed — thanks to Republicans, and thanks to sellouts in the Democratic caucus, like Cory Booker, who says he’s not going to let his pharma industry donors dictate his votes anymore:

https://www.statnews.com/2019/02/12/cory-booker-presidential-run-pharmaceutical-industry-ties/

Meanwhile, the scammers continue to add complexity to the proposition bet and use the obscuring effect of all those bizarre odds to cloud our ability to calculate the odds. Some drug plans have six tiers of benefits, each with their own co-pay (a flat fee per prescription) and/or co-insurance (a percentage of the drug price). Sometimes it’s cheaper not to use your insurance to buy drugs at all, because the cash price is lower than the co-pay.

There is no amount of plan-tinkering that can substitute for allowing Medicare to directly negotiate with pharma companies and set a price, the way all the other national health-care plans do. There’s a reason Americans pay 200–400% more for their prescriptions than Canadians.

https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-21-282

An insurance plan that you can’t change, but the insurer can? That is a scam that’s visible from orbit. Any insurer that does this is permanently disqualified from being trusted with anyone’s health. It doesn’t matter how many tiers are offered, or how many rebates, or what the co-pay is. It doesn’t matter how many price-comparison tools there are. If the insurer can change the payout at will and you can’t change insurers when they do, all of that stuff is just window-dressing, lines on the craps table, there to distract you while you’re ripped off.

Image: Chris Martin (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/cjmartin/11331819423

CC BY 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Christine Dela Cerna (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Various_pills.JPG

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

[Image ID: A craps table surrounded by excited gamblers; amid the casino chips are various pharma tablets, some spilling out of a pill bottle.]

#pluralistic

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hargrove-mayfields · 2 years

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On Independence Day, 1985, William R. Hargrove died.

Three days later there was a funeral for him, the first of the mall 30. A whole town wracked with grief instead of the blissful escape they’d all been celebrating just a few days ago. Billy thought, when the story of that day was told back to him, that that was fitting, for a holiday that celebrates a war.

Even more ironic, a week after that, Neil Hargrove packed up all his shit and left the Mayfields with nothing. All it took was one week for that old patriot to snap. Funny how the Fourth of July used to be his favorite, when he’d spend the weekend keeping his fists to himself and taking Billy down fishing. Maybe dust off the old grill and act like a real father for a day.

Even though they didn’t pretend often, the absence of both Hargroves was felt. For six months in the wake of all that loss, the cozy American ideal they once strove for was crushed while Susan and Max struggled and hurt and barely held their little family of two together.

And then, this is the part where Billy woke up.

It was like a light switch. A firework in a pitch dark night sky. He just started wandering through the darkness before even he understood that he was there, with himself again. Somehow he found his way to the heart of the trailer park on instinct, startling the two Mayfields by banging on their door in the middle of the night, just as confused as they were. It was Max that explained everything to him, the next day when Susan went to work, telling what that thing that tore him apart was, why they couldn’t stop it. He felt like he knew that already though. Like someone else told him.

He couldn’t explain why he was back. A nagging feeling that something happened to bring him back before he was dumped in the middle of Hawkins sits heavy in his bruised chest. Those intrusive feelings went largely ignored though, because for the next two months, they got to pretend they were a family again. Happy as they ever were.

It was never enough to balance things out though. Not with the monsters still lurking under the surface. Maybe that’s what he was forgetting, the gravity of the situation they were in.

Seeing Billy alive again, pretending like things had always been right between them, Max’s guilt only grew and grew. She didn’t tell him that before it was too late. Didn’t mention to anyone what she had thought about, or why her grief was so intense and lasting even after they reunited. He wished she would’ve said something, he wasn’t mad. He got it. It made him feel like shit, that Max thought she couldn’t bring it up just because they were reconciling.

And then things went really too far.

The plan was bullshit, it was never going to work. They wouldn’t listen to him though. One of the brats pulled the ‘we survived before and you didn’t, so don’t question us’ card and his opinion was shut out. He should’ve fought harder. Should’ve stepped aside for a second and just talked to Max.

Billy was just pissed at himself when her heart stopped and he was all the way in the other dimension, unable to do anything about it. Every last chime of that clock felt like a shot straight through his chest. A nail in the coffin that contained their chance at getting better.

His sister was dead.

He stole the axe off of Steve’s back and took Vecnas head off with it. The others were scared to get close, were content with their guns and their Molotov’s that put a safe distance between them and that monster. But this bastard killed Billy before, and now his little sister too. That was personal. Unforgivable. He had enough rage in him to slash Vecna into unrecognizable remains. No chance at that fucker ever getting back up, not even by interdimensional physics.

In the ambulance across town, about the same time as their group is snatching up a worse for wear Henderson and Munson and climbing back through the gate, Max wakes up again. Sort of. Sinclair said she took a sudden breath and her heart started registering on the monitors. For a tense moment, it seemed like she was going to open her eyes like before. But she was unresponsive.

Billy’s still gotta thank the kid for keeping Max company through that. Somewhere deep down he knows that he was needed on the other side, knows that Vecna wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t been there, but he still wishes he could’ve been there for Max. She shouldn’t have had to rely on only one person for so long.

One year and four months later and it’s the Fourth of July again. There’s fireworks going off downtown, each one causing Max to flinch. She’s mostly adjusted to being conscious again, got out of the hospital just a few weeks ago now, but she has her limits. Massive explosions in the distance happen to be one of them. Fair enough.

Especially because she can’t see. After literally having been to hell and back, and without the ability to even appreciate the light from them, fireworks are a lot less charming than they used to be. Billy’s not quite in the same boat as Max, but he can relate all the same. Just the sound is enough to take him back to the floor of the mall, blinding flashes all around him blurring into memories, unfamiliar faces, emptiness. It’s a horrible thing to bond over.

They spend the holiday at Susan’s trailer, with towels tacked over the cracks in the windows and a blanket fort built above the fold-out couch. There’s a stereo playing softly too. Anything to muffle the crackles and booms that seem to get closer to them as the night continues. Putting them both on edge.

Max’s hearing has been sensitive since she lost her sight. Every one of those bangs scares her just as much as it hurts her ears. She won’t wear headphones though. Not after the last time. Still, the sounds keep getting in, and she keeps startling. She hides her face in a hooded sweatshirt, unable to cry.

Billy decides talking might help. They’ve been doing lots of that now that they’ve been given the chance, and with nothing much else to do. Max’s memories never fully came back after what Vecna did. It’s almost essential that someone keeps telling her stories about her past, so she doesn’t lose herself.

Since it can’t be ignored any longer, Billy speaks up, tapping the arm of the couch twice so she knows, instead of letting his voice spook her like the fireworks have been all night. That’s sort of the routine now. Coming from the background he did, where he spent the majority of the first seventeen years of his life walking on eggshells, he doesn’t mind it.

“Do you remember the first Independence Day we spent as a ‘family’?”

Max turns towards him, but her eyes don’t quite focus. Billy’s used to people not looking him in the eyes when they talk to him. It’s not like it makes a difference for Max. She thinks, and answers, “No..”

So Billy explains, slowly so Max has time to visualize and remember a few things as he does, “You were only seven. Your mom hadn’t married my dad yet, but we came over just to make a good impression. You were so pissed off that I was there though, because then you had to share the sparklers and poppers you bought from the nickel store with your piggy bank money.”

A small smile, “I sound like a brat.”

“You kinda were, but who can blame ya? You had no stability. And I’m pretty sure we already established I was kind of a dick back then.” Billy shrugs, and that smile on Max’s face grows slightly.

He always feels better when he sees that. Sometimes he worries he’s treating her too different, making her feel coddled or something. When she smiles, he knows he’s doing something right.

Max prompts, interrupting that personal moment of assuredness, “So, I’m guessing something happened?”

“Yep. You threw this massive tantrum ‘cause I started being stupid and pretending to smoke the lit sparklers like cigs, just to make you upset. You thought we’d get in trouble, and we did, ‘cause you started screaming your little head off at me. We both had to sit together in time out on this old glider bench against the side of the house. That made you even more mad, because the paint on the bench was chipped and you didn’t like the way it felt.” Billy tries to be more vivid than he’d usually be, including some other sensory information that Max might have an easier time connecting to the memory.

“What was that like?”

He always takes his time, explaining whatever she needs, “Time-out? I dunno, I think I kicked a rock around until we were free..”

But Max shakes her head, more serious than before, where Billy would’ve expected laughter. Guess he was being stupid, “No- Billy. The house. I don’t remember the house..”

“Oh. It was pretty small. The yard was bigger than the house itself I think.” It doesn’t take much recollection for Billy to describe it easily. He remembers the Mayfields’ old place well from how often they went there before they all moved together. There’s pictures of them all outside of it too, but Max can’t exactly just look at pictures to get her memories back. Helping her with her past is up to Billy and Susan now.

“The siding was yellow and the shutters were green. You had a big garden, but your mom was always too busy to take care of it so everything was grown up. The weeds would get crazy and there’d be little ladybugs crawling all over everything. I always thought it was super bright and happy looking though. Didn't understand how an angry little kid like you was living there.”

“I don’t remember it..” Max turns away again. She looks so sad. So lost. A glimpse of the hopelessness they all felt that first time she woke up in the hospital and couldn’t even remember her own name.

They’ve come a long way since then.

“That’s alright. I got more stories.” Billy won’t let her get discouraged. “How about the last Fourth of July before we left California? Do you remember that one?”

“Maybe?” Max tenses, doubting herself.

“I’ll tell you anyway.” He knows better than to fret anymore. It just makes her feel worse. Pacing is key with Max, taking his time and being thoughtful as he shares the memory with her, “We already knew we were moving since May of that year, so your mom let us both invite friends to this party. I had Cid and Wayne over, but your best friend flaked on you. Your mom felt bad and tried to cheer you up with confetti and glow sticks and stuff. You put ten glowsticks on your arm and gave up, setting up shop over by the corner of the fence where the garden shed was. Just sitting there and brooding all night long. Every time someone even looked at you you’d turn around and hide.”

A moment of contemplation, letting it sit in her mind, and Max guesses, “Was the chair red?”

“Close. It had red butterflies on it. That chair was from when you were a tiny little kid, and you used it ‘til it broke.” Billy feels proud of her for getting close, but Max sounds defeated, probably more sad that she only remembers part of something than she would be if she forgot entirely. She mumbles, “That’s not a very memorable story.”

“‘Cause I’m not done telling it. We had a fire going that night, and since it was the fourth and we were stupid, as soon as we were unattended for a few seconds, Cid wanted to put fireworks on the fire.” Billy hated his old friends sometimes. Most of the time really. They were always telling him to do stupid shit.

Stupid shit that Max calls them out on now, “Wouldn’t they explode?”

“Yeah. And they did. One spinner flew right at you over in your little corner and you panicked. He thought it was funny that you were crying, and tried to do it again on purpose, but I didn’t want you getting burnt or something so I beat his ass. Right there in the yard. My friends had to go home and I got in huge trouble, but you and your mom stayed outside ‘til like midnight making s’mores and shit.” It’s only implied that Billy got a pretty bad beating that night. He doesn’t need to include that detail. Max remembers the scary things, the hard things. The bad things.

Another longer moment to think, and then a look of enlightenment crosses her face, “I-I think I might remember that last part! She wanted to talk about moving here and I just kept shoving marshmallows in my mouth so I didn’t have to talk about it.”

“See? Knew you could do it, Maxi.” Billy offers, but Max, even though she’s feeling brighter, quickly tears that enthusiasm down, “Remembering half of a memory that only happened like four years ago isn’t that impressive. I’m only sixteen, Billy. I shouldn’t have this hard of a time remembering things.”

It hurts him to hear her talk like that. Sometimes he has to remember that Max’s perspective is limited to what she went through, her pain and her frustration felt on a personal level, that makes it hard to see clearly just how much she has gotten better, “I think it’s pretty damn impressive that you remember anything. Vecna took your memories away and you’ve fought like hell to get them back. Who cares if it’s a little rough? You’re getting better every day.”

“I care! This is stupid! I feel like I don’t even know myself anymore. Like- like I’m not me.” She sniffles, trying to cry. But the tears don’t fall. There are too many scars.

“What a house you used to live in looks like doesn’t matter, Max. Details of things that are in the past might be fun to remember, but they’re not really that important.” He wishes someone had told him that his past wouldn’t define him for the rest of his life. Some of the things he fought so hard to realize, would’ve just been easier, had someone been there to reassure him.

That's what he wants to do for Max, “What matters most is that you’re still going. That son of a bitch took everything from you and you stood back up. And that’s what makes you yourself. Not your childhood home or an old friend's face. It’s your strength, kiddo. Your fire that nobody could ever extinguish.”

At first she just stays quiet, worries the soft fabric of her sweatshirt between her fingers, obviously caught up in her own head again. When she finally speaks again, she sounds so small, “What if I forget you?”

“Max, I-“ Billy’s ready to reassure her, but she cuts him off, so much passion and heartbreak behind her words. This is something she’s thought about often, “What if I forget what my friends look like? I-I’ll already never see them grow up. In my mind they’ll always be fifteen. You’ll always be nineteen. And that’s only if I don’t lose that memory too. I don’t know what my world looks like anymore now that it's changing. Do you understand how isolating that is?”

“No, I don’t. That’s why I’m trying to be here for you. I’m making an effort, the best I can. You just gotta tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.”

In moments like these, Billy wonders if all of Max actually did make it back to them. Sometimes it feels like she’s distant. Still trapped up there in her own mind, with the thing that's holding her hostage now her recovery. Like the Max in front of them has her heart and her mind, but not the same spirit. Her passion without a way to express it, her morals and her heart without a way to define it. She'll always be missing something. Locked away with her memories.

But Billy is missing pieces of himself too.

Whatever happened that got him here, it took a lot out of him. Hell, he’s sitting here with his little sister hiding under a blanket from fireworks. Things have changed. But that’s not always a bad thing. He’s happier than ever.

He knows Max won’t hear it though. He might try talking about this again when she’s not already upset and on edge from the constant noise outside.

For now, he asks, to take her mind off things, bring her out of the barrier she’d put up, “Do you remember what fireworks look like?”

“Big. Like lightning, but it’s smaller and it’s colorful. Sort of like rainbow static in the sky.” Max wipes her eyes and explains the image, her gaze flickering as she focuses on seeing it in her mind. She adds, sort of sheepish for how detailed she got, “Am I close?”

“Honestly, yeah. You just make them sound so much less powerful. Kinda pathetic.”

“They are. It’s a waste of money just to spread toxic chemicals in the air and annoy people all night long.” Billy scoffs at her attitude, but pessimism from Max is a good sign that she’s feeling like herself. As long as it’s about something stupid like fireworks and not her future, he’ll take it.

She wants to move on from that though, because she asks, sort of hesitant to bring it up after everything, “Do we.. have any happy Fourth of July memories?”

Only one comes to mind. “1980. We didn’t stay home that year because-“

Max suddenly interrupts, excited, “Because your dad had a business trip!”

She got it right that time. Billy smiles proudly, and keeps going, feeding her bits of the memory so she can put it together herself, “Right. So your mom wanted to do something special so we weren’t just stuck in the backyard for another year.”

“We went to the beach and we watched the firework show.”

“Right again, shitbird. Only reason we didn’t fight all night was because we were too busy eating ice cream.”

“I remember. Mom bought us both bomb pops from the ice cream truck, with the dog airbrushed on the side. Mine melted and made my hands sticky, so I went down to the water even though I was supposed to and put my hands in. It was cold. It felt nice.” Max sighs dreamily, touching back down after a moment of living in the past. She looks confused, “Why didn’t we ever do that again? It was so… peaceful.”

Billy hesitates to explain. The reason isn’t so happy, “Neil was pissed that we ‘excluded’ him. Aka, he was pissed that he didn’t have control over all of us while he was at work, and he started restricting where Sue could take us when he wasn’t home.”

“I don’t-“ Max starts, but Billy soothes that worry before it can even take root, “We never told you. You can’t forget that one because you never knew to begin with. Susan was scared if she told you you’d have hated Neil even more and the whole thing would’ve gotten volatile.”

“Oh.” It’s tense for a moment. Max doesn’t remember much about her step-father, and they don’t do too much reminding her of him behind what’s necessary. Some sort of a trauma beyond. She does know she doesn’t like him though. “Then.. I guess, now that he’s gone and things are different, we can make some new happy memories.”

“Sure.” Billy agrees.

And Max laughs softly at some idea she has, explaining what she was thinking, “I mean, obviously we can’t go watch the fireworks anymore, but I think I like doing this. Just.. talking with you every once in a while.”

“I thought I’d get annoying.” Billy shrugs, and Max smiles again, a real one that pulls at her eyes and highlights her dimples, “Trust me, I thought you would too. But it’s nice, knowing there’s someone who gets it.”

“Well then, I’m always gonna be here for you, kid.”

“Even when you move away to live your weird domestic dreams with Steve Harrington?” She teases in an accusatory tone.

“First off, mind your business, but second, who said you’re not invited to come with us?” Billy answers honestly to counter her humor, “You don’t seriously think we’re gonna keep you locked up in this house forever? You don’t have medical clearance yet, or I’d probably take you everywhere with me.”

“Now who’s the annoying one?” Max scoffs, retreating once again, so Billy presses, “What’s that mean?”

“You have your own life. I’m not going to impose on that now.”

“Yeah, you're right. You’re not imposing on shit.” Before she can argue, Billy says something he never imagined himself admitting before, “Max, last time I let you out of my sight, shit hit the fan and the worst two years of our lives happened. I think it’s time we stuck together for once.”

“Besides, how are we going to make new memories if you’re stuck here for the rest of your life?” He insists, finally getting a response out of Max, one which sounds slightly exasperated from the attention, but relieved at the same time.

“Okay, okay. But you have to take me somewhere cool. Where there aren’t hillbillies blasting my head off with fireworks every two seconds.”

Sounding sort of smug, having been sitting on this idea for a while before finally sharing it now, “Soon as you’re ready, I think it’s time for a road trip back home.”

“Really?” Max gasps faintly, vague acceptance turning to excitement.

It’s contagious, “Uh-huh. I promised Steve a while ago I’d teach him how to surf, and I think you could use the fresh air up there too.”

“Maybe I’ll remember some more things if I’m actually there.” She seems mesmerized just by the thought.

“Exactly what I was thinking.” He’s got plenty planned for him and Steve, but he’s included dozens of stops in his mental notes for Max. The places they used to go and hang out, separate or together, their old neighborhood, the beach they reminisced about earlier. For her sake, he just wants her to feel normal again, wants to let her explore her own reality. “So? Think you’re gonna be up for it?”

“Yes!” Max hugs him briefly, feeling his shoulders and his hair, sort of a cross between judging where he is and taking inventory of the fact that this is real. Things are really getting better, “Thanks, Billy. I think you just made this the best fourth ever.”

“Glad to hear it, shitbird. There anything else you wanna know?”

“No. I think I’m good now.”

As Max turns away from him again, pulling her hood back over her ears and pressing a pillow to the side of her head to muffle the ongoing, overwhelming sounds of capitalistic patriotism, Billy sighs.

There’s still something Max doesn’t know. She doesn’t remember that he died on this day two years ago. She knows he died at all, she knows what she saw that day, but she can’t pinpoint the date. There’s a lot of the battle she doesn’t really remember. Billy doesn’t have the heart to tell her now, to ruin the good.

He joins her in letting the tension go, kicking back on all the pillows they’d found and built into a den, which they’ll probably have to clean up as soon as Susan gets home and wants to sit down.

Maybe he was onto something before when he thought forgetting isn’t always a bad thing. Billy’s had to let go of a lot of things to get where he is now. If he still held onto the memories of his mother, the abuse he faced, the loss he suffered the way he had before he had a chance to turn his life around, he probably wouldn’t have moved on. Some things just don’t deserve to be remembered. He likes having the choice of what he gets to hold on to.

That’s at least what he tells himself, to explain away the holes in his dreams. Better to not worry about it.

Better to just appreciate what he has, rather than had. He thinks back on what Max said, about this being their best holiday, and maybe he’s not ready to have a best ever of anything so soon after almost losing his chance at appreciating those things at all, but he can agree that today was pretty good for the both of them.

His new favorite tradition at least, might be spending time with Max, getting to truly be a brother to her instead of playing a role like before. He’ll settle for that on this day that brought so much pain to him before, when he’d been one year shy of the worst night of his life, and Max still wasn’t awake from her coma.

This was the anniversary of his death.

It was also the day he started living with purpose, and now the day he inspired his sister to do the same.

#billy & max #billy hargrove #max mayfield #implied harringrove #look y’all as someone with vss and memory loss related to multiple mental health conditions #i am going to be projecting on max more than ever #these siblings are everything to me your honor #so here’s them hanging out for the fourth #more below the cut #ej writer #story by ej!#my writing

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ariadnelives · 2 years

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Prologue & Chapter 1:

[New to the series? Catch up here with this free PDF!!]

Prologue — Mourning A Wedding And Celebrating A Funeral

“First question: What is the soul? Easy enough to answer: a soul is the one thing every person has. Second question: What qualifies as a person? Even easier to answer: Anybody with a soul.”

-Father Y, The Empty-Room Sermons

Ariana Baltimore looked out over the Atlantic Ocean, although the morning fog was so thick she couldn't even see the horizon. It was, thankfully, not the tourist season, or else the Wildwood beach would be packed with sunbathers and beach volleyballers, and for an event like this, it's very difficult to maintain an appropriate level of austerity when children are throwing wads of sand at one another within earshot.

She and her wife, Marisol Spacebreather Beam, stood on a rocky section of the beach together. Being physically affectionate was second nature for them, and they found it difficult to be near one another and not be touching, but this day was always a bit somber for them, so the most that they felt was appropriate was having their arms linked, which was quite a sight to behold given that Baltimore was approximately a full foot taller than her wife. Their former army sergeant, and current boss at the event planning business they'd started together, Anika Flax, stood several feet away, as stoic as ever.

Soon, they would be joined by the others who had been there with them the first time around. Baltimore and Beam both had sisters coming. Alicia Baltimore was, as one might imagine, Ariana's biological sister. Pilar Spacebreather was, as one almost certainly would not imagine, Beam's sister through an obscure pirate practice of adopting new surnames based on outlandish feats, and they became sisters after they both survived brief exposure to the vacuum of space. However, as this was quite an unusual arrangement, they usually just left it at “sister” when talking with strangers and allowed their imaginations to fill in the blanks.

Alicia and Pilar would be joined by several other members of the pirate crew on which almost all of the attendees had, at one time, served together. Pilar's wife, Captain Ariadne, and her younger sister (in the traditional sense) Sasha Deathsbane had, of course, been present at the event they were here to commemorate.

Sasha had also brought along her girlfriend of several years, Sweettalk, and their closest friend, Ghostrunner, who had not been there in person, but who had come for moral support, and who had become quite close with several of the others in attendance.

These young women would arrive in minutes, greeting their loved ones with tearful hugs and very little smalltalk. Here to preside over the occasion was one of the Sovereigns of the Homeworld Republic, Peace Upendo, who arrived shortly afterwards. Upendo, a leader popular enough that her constituents had overwhelmingly elected her to a second term two years previously, had not been physically present at the original event, but she was deeply involved in it, and since this gathering was technically a state secret that only those involved were supposed to know about, it seemed only appropriate that she be in attendance.

The group of women gathered on the beach stood together in a tight cluster, and listened as Upendo began her speech.

“My dear friends,” she began, “it is the sixth time we've gathered in this place, to mark the anniversary of the death of Susan Weaver and the end of her plans to conquer the galaxy. The universe is in debt to you for the service you performed on that day. I only wish my father could be alive to see the paradise the Earth has become.”

They were gathered on this particular beach because it was the place where they had scattered Imperator Weaver's ashes six years previously, on the first anniversary of her death. This was, of course, unknown to the general public. The Sovereigns feared that, were it known, it would become a pilgrimage site for Weaver Loyalists. This is also why this commemoration was kept under wraps; Weaver's followers were only able to be enthralled by the light because they were already fanatical and violent, and if this was a public event, everyone involved in Weaver's downfall would be at risk of assassination.

“I'll try to keep my statements brief,” Upendo continued. “As much as the end of the Weaver Regime was a good thing, I know the memories surrounding it can be painful, and I'm sure no one here is eager to revisit them in depth. To that end, I'll simply voice how pleased I am, every year, to see all of you here again, thriving and growing, building your new careers and your new families.”

She looked at Ariadne and Spacebreather pointedly.

“Even though I don't officially know what some of you do for a living,” she continued, “it is my understanding that you have all been doing excellent work in our system, this past year more than ever. I look forward to not hearing about whatever adventure you find yourselves in next.”

She took out a handful of incense sticks and handed one to each of the women in the circle. Spacebreather took out a lighter and silently lit each of them.

“All I'll ask of you before we part ways is that we take a moment to pray for—” it was at this moment that she noticed Ariadne rolling her eyes, “—or perhaps just reflect on the monsters we've slain, the loved ones we've lost, and the beautiful future those sacrifices have bought us.”

The circle bowed their heads and, as instructed, considered this. They had all slain enough monsters and said goodbye to enough loved ones for a lifetime. Alicia sighed. Thinking about the future always humbled her, much more so than her younger sister or her friends on the crew.

At the end of the prayer— or, in Ariadne's case, the moment of reflection— Peace concluded the ceremonies and encouraged the circle to be clear of the beach before the first guests showed up.

“I wish you'd join us,” Beam said. “After all we've been through, you'd think we could break bread, or at least knock a few back.”

“She doesn't drink,” Baltimore pointed out.

“I didn't say 'a few' had to have alcohol, she could knock back a few ginger ales. Unless ginger ale is illegal and nobody told me,” Beam replied, then turned very seriously to Peace and asked, “wait, you would've told me if you made ginger ale illegal, right?”

“It's best if I don't,” Peace sighed, clearly wishing she could. “If I'm recognized, people will ask questions, and we can't have anyone knowing about this or you'll all be in danger.”

“Not to mention,” Ariadne added with a smirk, “she can't risk being seen with us pirates more than she needs to.”

Peace looked uneasy, but Ariadne wasn't wrong. She might have risked a small meal with the group soon after the fall of the Weaver Regime, but since Ariadne had revealed herself to the system, it had become too big a risk for someone of her stature to be publicly associated with a wanted criminal.

“Maybe next year, sugar,” Ariadne joked, knowing that Peace would never agree to join them.

“Indeed,” Peace said, and smiled. She said her goodbyes and called for a secure teleport back to the Sovereign's Mansion, and waved to them as she disappeared in a flash of light.

“So, those of us who are actually any fun,” Sweettalk said, “we going to a bar? Club? What's the plan?”

“What club do you think is open this early in the morning?” Sasha asked.

“We're going to a diner,” Baltimore said, “I'm too old to go to a club and if I'm too old then Alicia and Flax are definitely too old.”

Alicia and Flax exchanged a glance. Flax pressed a finger to her lips and her eyes said “don't say a word.” Alicia grinned. As far as they knew, nobody saw this exchange.

“There's a place on the boardwalk that has the most amazing Monte Cristo sandwich I've ever eaten, and that's saying something,” Beam said, “you guys will love it.” She started walking up the beach to the boardwalk and her companions followed suit.

“We're not gonna go out for drinks?” Sweettalk asked, “come on, this is the first shore leave we've had since Ghostrunner turned 18. She's finally allowed to come with us to the bar and you're not gonna take her? You don't want to see what this quiet girl is like when we put enough liquor in her to turn her into a loudmouth?”

“No, I am already very aware of what it's like to spend time with a loudmouth,” Baltimore made direct eye contact with Sweettalk.

“Some of us have two kids at home and if we don't get home early their grandmoms will spoil them rotten,” Beam said, “if you girls want to paint the town red after breakfast, be my guest, but I think my days of being drunk in New Jersey are over.”

“Ari? Spacebreather?” Sweettalk asked. “You gotta tell me you're coming out.”

“As much as we'd love to,” Spacebreather said, “my wife and I have so few opportunities to have a romantic evening out, so obviously once our date night begins, I will not be hearing word one from any of you until we arrive back at the Baltimores' for the night. Clear?”

Sweettalk sighed. “Guess it'll just be the three of us. That's fine, I did say 'everybody who's actually fun.'”

Ghostrunner grinned. If she had anything to say about it, it would definitely not just be the three of them.

***

The police presence on the block surrounding the largest, most ornate Catholic church in Lohnausfall had never been more concentrated or more heavily armed than they were on this particular day. They were prepared for war. Nobody would come within a half mile of the church. Not today.

Not on the day Big Top Rizzo's daughter was to be married.

Of course, in Lohnausfall, the police were little more than private security for Big Top's criminal operation, and today, for the first time in years, the whole extended family would be in one building. There had been some threats against the church, and Big Top had more than his share of enemies, but of course, a thorough search made it clear there these threats were less than credible. The wedding would proceed unimpeded.

On the steps outside the church, the cheering Rizzo family watched as the bride and groom got into the limousine at the front of a long procession of cars. They were all classic cars, rolling on actual tires instead of hovering, from Big Top's collection. He was old school, and the cars were very expensive, and he felt there was no better occasion to flaunt his wealth than his eldest daughter Amelia's wedding.

The rest of the extended Rizzo family came down the steps to get into Big Top's many chauffeured vehicles, but there was one slight hold-up. The maid of honor, Big Top's second-youngest daughter Nicoletta “Nicks” Rizzo, stumbled near the bottom of the steps and fell down two stairs to the pavement. She'd scraped her knee and the palm of her hand catching herself, and badly twisted her ankle.

“Nicky, baby,” Big Top asked, “What happened?”

Nicks rubbed her ankle, wincing in pain. “My heel broke, Pa.”

“Can you walk on it?” He asked.

She made a cursory effort to stand up, but yelped in pain. It was clear she wouldn't be walking anywhere without assistance.

“Just gimme a minute, I'll— ah!” She gasped in pain again as she tried to put weight on her twisted ankle. Her father sighed.

“Rico, get her to the Urgent Care,” Big Top told one of his enforcers, “I'll tell Amelia what happened when we get to the banquet hall.”

Rico propped her up on his shoulder and brought her into a car. Nicks looked heartbroken to miss her sister's wedding. They drove off in the opposite direction of the wedding motorcade.

“Thanks, Rico,” Nicks said, “I don't know what I'd have done without you.”

“Well I wasn't about to leave you on the pavement,” Rico said and laughed warmly.

“Oh, not for that,” Nicks smirked.

“What for, Ms. Nicky?” Rico asked, not thinking much of the question.

“For your last job,” Nicks said. “You worked for the Connellys, right?”

“What does that—” Rico was confused as to why having previously worked for a rival gang was cause for thanks.

Nicks pulled the concealed weapon, which she'd stolen from Rico's personal gun locker the previous night, from its holster under her skirt. “Stop the car now.”

Rico was taken off-guard and complied.

“Now be a dear,” Nicks said, “and honk the horn.”

Rico hesitated.

“Do it or I'll paint the windshield with your brains,” Nicks growled.

Rico honked the horn which, unbeknownst to him, Nicks had rigged to a detonator the night before, shortly after stealing the button.

A mile away, a long stretch of the city's street blew sky high and took Big Top Rizzo, his collection of vintage cars, and his entire extended family with it.

“Thank you, Rico,” Nicks said coldly, “and goodbye, Rico.”

Before he had a chance to react, Nicks pulled the trigger and put a round of plasma into the side of his head.

She took a deep breath and composed herself as she waited for the sound of sirens to creep up behind their car, at which point she broke into convincing sobs and started beating on the passenger-side window and loudly crying for help.

The officers forced the door and she spilled out onto the street, wailing as dramatically as she could manage.

“W—we got a f— a few blocks away from the ch— the church and he p— he pulled a gun on me,” she sobbed, “he honked the horn and pulled a gun and then the ground shook and he dropped it so I— so I— so I—”

The officers looked into the car and saw Rico's body and understood what she was trying to say she'd done.

“Is that—” One of the officers asked.

“Frederico Berton,” the other finished. “Jimmy Connely's old capo.”

“Looks like he was on better terms with his old boss than we thought,” he said, “looks like we got our bomber.”

Nicks convincingly looked surprised. “Bomber? Wh—”

The officer kneeled down. “Ms. Rizzo, I'm sorry, but your father… your family…”

Nicks managed to fake a moment of horrified realization and let out a pained wail that would stick with both officers, who had no reason to suspect it was anything but real, for the rest of their lives.

She appeared distraught, but in reality, it was the happiest she'd ever been. She'd just gotten away with mass-murder and pinned it on a dead man. Now, the law would have no reason to keep her full inheritance from her.

***

The first bar of the night was Ghostrunner's choice— her eighteenth birthday was three months ago, but this was the first time she'd been on a planet where eighteen-year-olds were legally allowed to drink since then— and she'd chosen a small, divey gay bar at the far end of the boardwalk.

Sasha and Sweettalk were very confused, as they'd had to walk past four trendy nightclubs in order to get to this one, but they'd have time to visit all of these as the night went on, and after all, it was Ghostrunner's big night, so they didn't question it.

They walked into the bar and immediately realized why Ghostrunner had chosen this bar in particular.

“Ahhhh, crap,” Alicia said from her corner booth where she sat next to Flax.

A lady at the bar wearing a hood and holding a drink perked up at Alicia's exclamation. Something about her seemed strange to Ghostrunner.

“How,” Flax asked, to the confusion of the beautiful woman draped around her shoulders, “did you find us?”

Chapter 1 — A Night On The Town

“Oh my god,” Sweettalk said, trying very hard not to laugh.

“I legit had no idea you guys would be here,” Sasha said, embarrassed, “we only came because Gh—”

“Who's the hottie?” Sweettalk asked, “Sorry to interrupt, babe, we just… we've got to have priorities in this situation.”

Flax sighed. “Loan, why don't you head on back to the room? I'll meet you there, I have some catching up to do with my…” She momentarily struggled for a term for them that would come as close to the truth as possible without generating any follow-up questions, as reasonable as they might be to ask. “…nieces.”

“Sure thing.” The almost comically beautiful woman that Sweettalk, Sasha, and Ghostrunner now understood to be called Loan planted a kiss on Flax's lips, waved her goodbye, and made her way out of the bar.

“No, really,” Flax said with significantly less humor in her voice, “how did you find us.”

“I saw you,” Ghostrunner explained, causing both Alicia and Flax to jump, having failed to notice Ghostrunner was present. “Baltimore said you guys were too old to go clubbing and I saw you shush Alicia. You two were going out drinking together in secret and I wanted to know why. I thought you were dating at first, but—”

Flax pressed her eyes closed and exhaled sharply. Alicia just laughed.

“Please,” Alicia said, “I should be so lucky. Did you see Loan? Flax is way better at this than I am.”

“What's 'this,' exactly?” Sweettalk asked.

“I haven't had enough to drink to explain that to teenagers right now,” Alicia laughed, visibly having had more drinks than she was letting on. “So are you guys sitting down, or what?”

Flax visibly winced, but then sighed and accepted the situation as an inevitability. “You three are all over eighteen, right?”

“Yeah,” Ghostrunner said, grinning.

“Good,” Flax said, “sit down, order a drink, and don't ask me about my love life.”

Alicia and Flax both threw back a shot and signaled for an attractive young waitress to come over to their corner table.

“I'll have another whiskey, neat. The lady will have another screwdriver. And get the girls whatever they like, on my tab,” Flax said confidently. This was a favorite move of Anika's, which she always hoped would convey that a person's presence was a privilege she only begrudgingly granted.

“Alright ladies,” the waitress said to them, “can I see some ID first?”

Sasha, Sweettalk, and Ghostrunner all produced identification. They were, perhaps surprisingly, given their chosen line of work, legal IDs bearing their real names. After all, unlike “Sweettalk” and “Deathsbane,” Mingxia Huang and Sasha Aguilar had no known criminal record.

Ghostrunner, however, wasn't even a wanted criminal under the name “Ghostrunner.” This wasn't because she'd never committed a crime, in fact she had committed a greater share of burglaries than almost anybody on the crew, but because she took her job as a covert operative very seriously, and her participation in the crew's many schemes was never discovered by law enforcement.

Regardless, she still handed the waitress her real ID. Something about the idea of buying her first legal drink with a fake ID just seemed wrong to her.

“Corantine… Phils… Amy… ” the waitress struggled through Ghostrunner's name. “is that French?”

“Fils-Aimé,” Ghostrunner corrected.

“Feesa-May…” the waitress repeated, almost getting it right. “Beautiful name. What can I get ya?”

“I just turned eighteen, I have no idea,” Ghostrunner said.

Alicia's jaw dropped. “Is this actually your first drink?”

“I live with you,” Ghostrunner said, “when would I have had a drink that you wouldn't know about?”

“I don't know,” Alicia said, sipping her water, “I didn't think this would be the one thing you didn't know how to sneak.”

“So what should I get?” Ghostrunner asked.

“Tequila sunrise for Corantine,” Flax said assertively to the waitress, “whiskey and coke for the other two.”

The waitress quickly jotted down the order as Flax pressed a neatly-folded $15 bill into her free hand, and then flitted away to fetch their drinks.

“Fifteen dollars?” Sasha asked.

“Less likely to put it in the register to make change,” Flax said, “I want her to keep that bill.”

“Tell me you didn't,” Alicia said.

“Well, you've been making eyes at her all night,” Flax said, “somebody had to.”

Alicia cracked up and found it difficult maintaining her composure.

“You wrote Alicia's phone number on the bill, didn't you?” Ghostrunner asked.

“Like I said,” Flax smirked, “she had to get it somehow.”

“Yeah, I, uh…” Ghostrunner began, “slipped it to her when I showed her my ID. I can tell that the famous Baltimore subtlety with women is genetic.”

Alicia laughed so hard that she found herself thankful they were in a booth, preventing her from falling out of her seat completely.

“Is this why you guys came out?” Sasha asked, “you guys are… picking up women together?”

“Not at all,” Flax said, “Alicia isn't quite as… discerning as I am. They don't need to be women.”

Alicia continued laughing.

“So you guys are, what, each other's wingmen?” Sweettalk asked.

“I'm her wingman,” Flax said, “and sometimes I even do a good job. She retired from that job a few months ago when I met Loan.”

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, “you guys have done this before.”

“Once a month for the past… uh… does it really matter how long?” Flax said.

Alicia, for a moment, thought she could regain her composure, but quickly burst out laughing again.

“And what's the matter with you?” Flax asked.

Alicia took a sip of water to calm down and, still resisting the impulse to laugh, said, “I gave her my number just before the girls walked in. She's gonna think I'm crazy.”

“Just wait until you tell her what you do for a living,” Flax said.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and only Ghostrunner noticed Alicia quickly pocketing the cocktail napkin that came with her drink, which Ghostrunner assumed had the waitress' phone number on it.

She took a sip of her beverage, which was incredibly sweet and lacked the harsh flavors she'd expected alcohol to have. She did, however, decide to sip it slowly, as she knew how powerful Tequila was.

“So why have you guys been sneaking around?” Sasha asked, “I mean, you have drinks with Ari and Pilar every week!”

Alicia's face turned a bit somber. The silence hung thick in the midst of the otherwise noisy bar, until finally, after several seconds, she broke it. “You know, I'm actually… a very lonely person.”

This surprised everyone but Flax.

“I love you girls and all, but…” Alicia said, “think about it. The only people on the ship who aren't teenagers, other than me, are Ariadne, Pilar, and Sasha. My only friends planetside? My sister, her gorgeous wife, and Flax here. Do you see the common denominator?”

Flax stepped in, as Alicia seemed a bit distressed. “All of her adult friends are happily married, except for me,” she explained. “I, on the other hand, am a lesbian divorcee in her 40s, and I had a similar problem. My closest friends are the happiest married couple I've ever met.”

“You were married?” Sasha asked.

Flax pointedly did not reply to this, and Sasha received the message: This was as much information as Flax would ever be willing to divulge on this subject.

“I just… needed someone to be lonely with sometimes, you know?” Alicia said, idly tapping on the table. “We knew we wouldn't work as a couple, but we could still lean on each other.”

“It's meant the world to me,” Flax smiled warmly, which was not something she was used to doing.

“But now you've found Loan,” Alicia said quietly, “and I'm so happy for you, but I'm worried that—”

“Don't be,” Flax said firmly, “I might not be a marine anymore but I'm still not about to leave one of my own behind. We went through it together and I don't care if it takes another seven years, I'm gonna make damn sure I do for you what you did for me, do you hear?”

Alicia let out the sort of bittersweet happy tear that can only come from a drunken cathartic moment, and then took another sip of her screwdriver.

“So,” she said to Ghostrunner directly and smiled as she wiped the tear away, “welcome to drinking.”

This got a laugh from the whole table.

They spent the next half hour swapping stories, half of which they'd all heard before, and generally letting their wits get away from them, before finally stumbling out of the bar.

“Come on!” Sasha said, “Just one picture! How often are we here?”

“Literally every year,” Sweettalk replied.

“Still! It's a special occasion,” Sasha said much too loudly, “plus, we're all dressed to the nines, we look hot, and all of us are drunk enough that we actually feel confident, and we're not drunk enough that we start hating ourselves.”

“Hard line to walk!” Sweettalk said. “A highwire act, even! Trapeze? Tightrope?”

“It's a…” Sasha considered it.

“It's a circus, is the point,” Sweettalk said. “Come on, let's just take the picture. She's just gonna keep asking until we do, and bonus, if we do it, she'll be really happy, and then I'll be really happy, and it'll just keep… going around and around, until the whole world is happy! And there's not a single hole in my logic. So let's do it. Let's. Go home and see if we can't rustle up some grilled cheese.”

Sweettalk was significantly more intoxicated than anyone else on the scene.

“You know I hate having my picture taken,” Ghostrunner said. “It's against my whole thing!”

“You don't get to have a whole thing tonight,” Sasha said, “we're not being pirates or doctors or anything like that. We're just gonna be regular girls for a few hours, and what do regular girls do?”

“Grilled cheese?” Sweettalk suggested hopefully.

Ghostrunner shrugged. How the hell would she know?

“They go to New Jersey and they take pictures of themselves, on the boardwalk, with their friends.” Sasha said. “Flax, Alicia, you want in on this?”

“I'm good,” Alicia said, “Flax?”

“Absolutely not,” Flax said, and took out her own phone to line up a shot for a photo, “and if I find out any of you breathed a word of tonight to anyone, this will be your last-known photo.”

Sasha and Sweettalk flanked Ghostrunner for the photo, and at the last second before Flax pressed the button, each picked her up and hoisted her into the air. Flax snapped the photo at the exact right moment to really capture the mood of the night– all three girls smiling and laughing, with a lit-up boardwalk ferris wheel on one side and the inky black atlantic ocean on the other.

The girls had underestimated how quickly, and how hard, the liquor would hit them— New Jersey's low drinking age of 18 had been controversial, when passed, and for good reason, as 18-year-olds are already foolhardy enough without alcohol— and had unanimously decided they were uninterested in hitting further clubs, due to a careless mention of a grilled cheese sandwich causing the whole group to become consumed with the singular objective of obtaining a grilled cheese sandwich at any cost.

Alicia called them a cab and piled in the back of it with her three young compatriots, Sweettalk on Sasha's lap, and Flax told them her hotel was only two blocks away.

“I'd better get there fast,” she said, “I've got a long night ahead of me.”

The cab drove away as its occupants cheered and whooped at this statement, and upon their arrival at Baltimore and Beam's house, Sweettalk made sure to give the driver a substantial tip.

“Shhhh, be quiet,” Alicia said as she fumbled to unlock the door, and then knowingly added, “the babies.”

Before she could manage to figure out the key, the door opened on its own, and Beam stood before them in her robe. “Get in fast,” she said, and then knowingly added, “the babies.”

“Hi Beam!” Alicia smiled, “we had the best time, you should come with us next time!” She was technically whispering, but this somehow managed to avoid making her voice any quieter.

“I will be sure to do that next time I don't have two kids,” Beam said, gesturing at the next room, where her two five-year-old daughters were currently attempting to get a good night's sleep.

“Do you have grilled cheese?” Alicia asked, “Or like, the ingredients to make grilled cheese? These three have been on my ass about grilled cheese since we crossed the bridge out of Jersey and honestly I kinda think they've got a point.”

“Kitchen,” Beam said, “and please, do it quietly? The babies.”

Alicia dramatically snuck into the kitchen as though she were a cartoon burglar, and as soon as she was out of sight, Beam could hear her very loudly fall over herself trying not to drop a skillet.

“Please,” Beam said, “Please tell me she got some numbers while you were out.”

“A waitress,” Ghostrunner said, “cute, kinda spacey, not really my type. Seemed into her, though.”

“Thank god,” Beam said. “You've got to be pretty thirsty to get that drunk.”

“She's a lot more…” Sasha hesitated as she worked through the delicate task of figuring out the most tactful way of putting this, “…complicated than I realized.”

“She's got layers, like… like…” Sweettalk considered every produce product she could think of. “…a banana? You gotta peel her to get to the center and understand, like, what she's all about, you know?”

“A banana has one layer,” Beam pointed out. “Tell me, was there any alcohol left in New Jersey when you got in the cab?”

“Fastwing's gonna get some, is the point,” Sweettalk said. “Don't worry, she's… Waitress got her number easily three or four times. It'll be fine.”

“She's a catch, wish she'd realize that,” Beam smiled. “What can I say, I've got a type!”

“Speaking of,” Sasha said, “is Baltimore around? I feel like I've hardly seen her.”

“In the game room with our sister,” Beam said, “Ari too, we were just wrapping up for the night.”

“If you want grilled cheese, the time is now!” Alicia yelled, at her maximum volume, from the kitchen.

“Make me one too,” Beam called back, “I paid for all of the ingredients.”

Alicia's hand shot out the kitchen door, giving a thumbs up.

Beam sat with the girls around a small table and listened as they recounted the night's exploits, and eventually Alicia brought in a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches so high that Sweettalk suspected she'd just gone ahead and used up the entire loaf of bread.

As they ate their sandwiches, a yawning Baltimore emerged from the game room, followed closely by Ariadne and Spacebreather, who seemed intent on remaining tangled in each other's arms even as they made their way upstairs.

“G'night girls,” Baltimore said, yawning again, “Beam, come up soon, you know I can't get to sleep unless you're there.”

“I'll be right up!” Beam smiled.

Spacebreather laughed. “You girls didn't overdo it tonight did you?”

“Nooo,” Sasha lied.

“Just a little,” Sweettalk said, and chuckled.

“Well, I look forward to you girls getting to see Ghostrunner through her first hangover,” Ariadne said, “Goodnight, girls.”

“Night Ari,” Sweettalk, Beam, and Sasha said.

Ghostrunner wished her goodnight as well, but got her name wrong, this was an honest mistake that anyone could've made after one too many Tequila Sunrises.

Ariadne froze for half a second, but then, at Pilar's guidance, continued up the stairs.

Ghostrunner realized her slip of the tongue immediately, and her friends were quick to tease her about her first lesson in the embarrassments of having had too much to drink, but they were all quick to move past it. After all, this happened to everyone sometimes! By morning, they wouldn't even remember it had happened.

Ariadne would, however. She was grateful they hadn't seen the color drain from her face when Ghostrunner said it, or the terror in her eyes. She was glad that Baltimore and Beam had a guest room made up for her and Pilar, so that she could conceal the panic attack she had as soon as they were behind closed doors, so that only Pilar would know how scared she was. She hoped they would never know that she spent hours replaying the two words Ghostrunner had said over and over and obsessing over whether it was a simple slip-up or whether there was a deeper meaning, that would indicate one of Ariadne's greatest fears had come to pass without her realizing it.

“Goodnight, mom.”

Ariadne did not get any sleep that night.

#core story #writers on tumblr #scifi #lgbt

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thefallennightmare · 3 years

Text

Vows [2/2]

Pairings: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Warnings: Angst, mention of death/suicide, alcoholism, and some swearing.

Summary: Could a weekend away be just what Sebastian and Y/N need or could it finally push them away for good?

A/N: Here’s the long awaited second part! I’m not too sure how to feel about it but here it is!

My heels clicked against the tiled floor of the hotel as I approached the check in desk, giving the lady behind it a small smile.

“Hi. Reservation under Mr. Stan?”

Nails typed away on the computer and my heart dropped when I saw a look of slight fear appear on her face. “I’m sorry. Do you have a relation to Mr. Stan?”

“Yes, he’s my husband.”

The word felt so foreign on my lips, not uttering it for months.

“Can I see some ID please?” The lady hesitated.

I cursed under my breath while reaching for my ID but groaned when I noticed it was missing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I-uh-seemed to have forgotten it.”

Running a hand through my hair, I tried to think of ways to prove who I was but suddenly, felt a presence behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I tried to stop the increase in heart beat as a small smile peaked through his beard.

“She’s with me.”

“Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Stan. How many key cards would you two like?” The lady questioned, her attitude changing once she realized that I was in fact with Seb.

“Um, there should be two rooms under that reservation?” Sebastian informed her.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. I see a reservation for our honeymoon suite.”

I scoffed while looking towards Sebastian. “Honeymoon?!”

“Yes, ma’am. It comes with a king bed, Jacuzzi tub, and fireplace.”

“You planned this, didn’t you? A way to torture me?” I seethed.

Sebastian raised his hands up, saying that his assistant made the reservation for him.

“Can we book another room?” We both asked at the same time.

She shook her head once more. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stan. We’re all booked up. But if you don’t mind me asking, why do you two need separate rooms? You’re married.”

I wasn't too comfortable with the flirtatious eyes she was sending Seb’s way. I snatched up the key card before pulling him along, muttering a quick thank you to the lady.

“I cannot believe you booked the honeymoon suite,” I exasperated while we waited for the elevator.

“I cannot believe you were jealous of Susan,” Seb chuckled.

My eyes squinted in confusion and he nodded towards the front desk.

“Oh.”

We fell in silence as we rode the elevator up to the 6th floor where our honeymoon suite awaited us. I felt my anxiety start to take over when the thought of Sebastian and I sharing a bed clouded my mind.

We haven’t shared a bed in so long that I forgot how he was a human heater in the way his arms would wrap around me, engulfing me. Or the way sometimes in the night, his lips would brush against my forehead in a soft kiss.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” I snapped from my thoughts and looked at Seb.

He was standing outside our room with the door open. “You coming?”

I nodded and followed him inside. If the situation was under different circumstances, I would have been floored with the room that he booked.

The king bed was in the middle of the room covered with those pillows that you just knew felt like sleeping on a cloud. The balcony doors were opened, a soft California breeze flowing throughout the room. The smell of the ocean filled my senses and I made a mental note to take a walk on the beach later tonight.

I took a quick peak in the bathroom and nearly gasped at the sight. The shower was double the size of the one in our brownstone, the tub could fit three people and was in front of a window that faced the ocean.

“Okay, this room is amazing!” I gawked back to Seb. “Are you sure your assistant didn’t do this on purpose?”

“I promise,” Seb smiled while crossing his heart. “She made this reservation so long ago she probably thought that we would appreciate this.”

I mirrored my own smile and started going through my suitcases. “So the rehearsal dinner is at six right?”

Sebastian nodded. “Yeah. Tim said we don’t have to go but we’re invited. Free food and booze.”

My nose scrunched up. “I think I’ll pass on the booze.”

For the next little while, we both unpacked our stuff deciding not to say a word. Things were still awkward between us and honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say. I could ask him how he’s been but was afraid of finding out the answer.

“No fucking way.”

Seb cursed while coming out of the bathroom, phone in hand. “Guess what?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “What?”

“Tim called off the wedding.”

My mouth fell agape, surprised that our best friends had called off the wedding. We were friends with them for years, both traveling and spending time together when Seb and I were first married. Tim and Brianna would always say that they hoped they would be half as happy as Seb and I were.

“What happened?” I sat on the edge of the bed.

Seb ran a hand over his face and hesitated for a moment before answering. “He caught her in bed with someone else.”

“Oh Tim,” I muttered, knowing the pain he was going through. “What do we do now?”

Seb’s mouth opened to speak but a soft knock on the door interrupted his thought. I marveled in the way his back muscles tensed as he opened the door. Susan stood on the other side of the door and I couldn’t help the jealousy that ran through me when her eyes lit up when she noticed Sebastian opened the door.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Stan, but I wanted to let you know that your and Mrs. Stan’s dinner reservations for 7 pm are all set.” Her voice was professional but I could tell it was bitter to come off her lips.

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted while standing next to Sebastian. “Dinner reservations?”

Susan nodded. “Yes ma’am. These reservations were made when the hotel reservation was booked. It’s a private table right on the beach.”

Bless Seb’s assistant's heart. She probably thought that she was doing this romantic thing for us at the time.

“Can we cancel?” Sebastian asked. “Our friends called off their wedding so we’re probably going to head back home.”

Susan shook her head. “I’m sorry Mr. Stan. Since it’s within two hours of your reservation you will have to pay a fee for canceling.”

Seb ran a hand through his hair before nodding a thanks to Susan and shut the door.

“What do you say? Dinner before we head home?” Seb suggested.

“I don’t know, Sebastian. Isn’t this whole thing awkward and weird for you?” I played with my fingers while sitting on the edge of the bed again.

He leaned against the dresser in the room that was directly in front of me and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s only weird if we make it.”

“We’re getting divorced and you want us to have dinner like we’re still a couple?” I tried to make sense of this whole situation.

“As friends,” he stated. “We used to be best friends before we got married, why can’t we go back to that?”

“What would Alessandra think?” I wondered.

“I’ll give you sometime to get ready and I’ll meet you on the beach at seven, okay?” Seb said, completely ignoring my question.

Before I could protest even more, he left the room leaving me alone to my thoughts.

How could we go to this romantic dinner and pretend that everything is normal when it wasn't? Sebastian made it clear months ago that he didn’t love me anymore and it took all this time to get used to it and understand that he and I would never be where we used to be.

I fought with my inner self wondering if I had enough time to find a plane ride back home before Seb even noticed I was late to this dinner.

My phone buzzed in my pocket and the text message on the screen made the decision final.

Please do this with me. It will be our final dinner together before we say goodbye-Seb

My toes brushed through the sand as I made my way down towards the ocean side where I could see a table with candles surrounding it. My skirt blew in the wind and the sun setting warmed my bare arms as I opted in wearing my gold silk halter top that I knew Sebastian liked at one point.

I halted when I noticed that even though I was a few moments later, Seb wasn’t here yet. Doubt clouded my mind, wondering if he decided against this whole thing and he had gone home.

“Y/N.”

Turning at the soft voice, I could help the small smile that played at my lips.

Sebastian stood in front of me, dressed in a blue suit, and my heart soared at that vision. He knew how much I loved the way he looked in this baby blue suit.

He pulled out my chair for me and after giving him a small smile of thanks, we were sitting across from one another.

“I hope you don't mind but I already told the chef what we wanted,” Seb said sheepishly.

I shook my head. “No, not at all. You were always good at knowing what I liked.”

Someone had come up to the table, ready to pour some wine into my glass and before I could speak up, Seb was already pulling away the glass. “Could we actually get some water?”

The young man nodded before placing two cups of water in front of us and quietly walked away.

“You can have a glass of wine, Seb. It’s fine,” I informed him.

“I’m perfectly fine with the water. How is sobriety going?”

“Really good,” I admitted with a small smile. “I haven't had a drink since the night of my brother's funeral. It’s been hard sometimes but I found a way to deal with the urge.”

“How?” Seb questioned.

“I actually started keeping a journal. It has some poems and my thoughts of how I’m feeling. It’s kind of stupid,” I muttered.

Sebastian immediately shook his head. “No it’s not, Y/N. Whatever helps you with the urge to drink is not stupid.”

We fell into silence after that, our food being placed in front of us, and we ate quietly. The sound of the waves meshing together with the sound of our forks scraping along the plates.

“You know,” Seb spoke softly, “I never asked how your family is doing. After everything.”

I could tell he didn’t want to utter the words ‘brothers death’ so I nodded. “They’re doing okay. My dad took it really hard. You should have seen him at the funeral, Seb. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

“I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there,” Sebastian apologized.

A shaky breath fell from my lips. “I’ve tried too hard not to blame myself for not being there for him. Maybe if I tried to talk to him more, to figure out what was wrong with him. All he needed was someone to talk to, to listen to him, but we weren’t there; I wasn’t there.”

Seb’s hand reached across the table and gently grabbed mine. “None of this is your fault, Y/N. Your brother was dealing with so many demons.”

I shook my head. “But I could have been there for him more. I was so wrapped up in our divorce and dealing with being alone that I didn’t even think of reaching out to my family because I was afraid of what they would say.”

Hastily wiping a tear away with my free hand, my sad eyes looked at our tangled fingers and Sebastian hesitated before pulling away.

Just the small touch of our hands together brought so much warmth. I had no idea how much I missed his touch until I felt it again.

The sun was setting even lower and the golden rays brushed softly across his features, showering him in such a glow that made me want to climb into him, crashing our lips together.

“I promised your mom I wouldn’t tell you this but she called me a few weeks ago,” Seb admitted.

“She did?” My eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

He nodded. “She was wondering how you were doing and made me promise to look after you.”

“Sorry, I haven’t told her about us. She still thinks we’re married.”

“I promised her that I would make sure you were safe and happy. I wouldn’t let those same demons that your brother dealt with bring you down.”

I let out a soft sob and averted my gaze from Sebastian, not wanting him to see how broken I actually was.

It had been months since my brother's death and getting the divorce papers. No matter how hard I tried to bury away those memories and feelings of heartbreak, it still chipped away at my heart. I wasn’t happy anymore, the bright light behind my eyes was long gone.

Sebastian was off with his girlfriend, happier than he ever was with me. He was living in the home we had built together, metaphorically, and I was the last thing on his mind.

I refused to show him that every night I cry myself to sleep, longing for the feeling of his arms around me, helping me deal with everything. I needed him so much but I couldn’t have him. He wasn’t mine anymore and it was so hard to accept.

I wasn’t the same person I was when we met. Back then I was confident in myself and knew that I was enough for him. I trusted him when he would be gone for months at a time and knew that he would always come back to me. A few years into our marriage, however, everything changed.

My self esteem dropped every time I saw Sebastian with his female co-stars. The thoughts of if I was pretty enough or if I was pleasing him enough flooded my thoughts constantly. Our shared moments of bliss started to disappear and after that one night, it had dissipated to nothing.

‘Please Seb, don’t go.” I cried while reaching for his hand.

He yanked his arm away from me before the look of hate pierced my soul. “Why should I stay, Y/N?! You clearly don’t need me third wheeling.”

His stare landed on the man that stood frozen on our steps of the brownstone.

“It’s not what you think,” I pleaded with a slight slur. “Please listen.”

“Isn’t it?!” Sebastian's anger vibrated off the walls. “I thought I would surprise you by coming home early but end up finding you with some other guy in our home!”

“If you would just listen to me,” I begged. “We weren’t doing anything. He was only making sure I made it home from the bar okay.”

Seb scoffed. “Really? Then why were you half naked in front of him when I found you?”

“Just let me explain, please.”

I stumbled over my feet as I tried to follow him outside of our home. The alcohol was incredibly strong, making it difficult to see straight.

“I’m done, Y/N. We’re through.”

“Y/N?”

Snapping back from my thoughts, I noticed that Seb was looking at me with a concerned face.

“Are you alright?”

The words stumbled from my lips before I could stop myself. “I never cheated, Seb. That night was a huge misunderstanding.”

His body immediately tensed, being caught off guard by my words.

“I’m not talking about this, Y/N. It’s done. It happened and that's it.”

“Nothing happened!” I suddenly snapped. “I swear to God, you think you know what happened but you don’t!”

“What is there to explain, Y/N?! I find you in your underwear with another guy!” Seb’s voice was now raised to match my own.

“I thought he was you!” I admitted. “I got so drunk that I thought this nice guy that offered to walk me home was you! I know getting drunk was no excuse but I was so lonely that I drank that night away in a bar. You told me you weren’t coming back for another two weeks and I thought that guy was you. Turns out he was gay and was actually trying to get me into bed to sleep.”

“Oh.”

I scoffed. “Oh? That’s all you have to say?”

“What else do you want me to say, Y/N?” Seb retorted back.

“How about I’m sorry for assuming that you had an affair?”

When he stayed silent, I shook my head with a look of disbelief. “This is why I didn’t want to have this stupid dinner. We can’t be together for more than an hour before screaming at each other!”

I stood from the table but froze when Seb did the same. “Then why haven’t you signed the damn divorce papers?! You keep trying to keep me around and it’s selfish, Y/N. How can I move on if you won’t sign those papers?!”

“Because I still love you! I’m not ready to let you go. It’s not fair that Alessandra gets to spend time with you on those vacations and gets to see you so happy. It’s not fair that she gets to share the same bed with you, our bed. It’s not fucking fair that she gets your love when I don’t! So call me selfish, I don’t care. But if you want those papers signed so damn bad then I will sign them when I get back home.”

I went to storm away, back to the hotel room, however the great feeling of finally being able to tell Sebastian my true feelings kept surging through me.

“I’m not done yet,” I spoke while facing him again.

He was standing a few feet away from me with his hands deep into his pockets. His eyes held confusion, trying to let the words ‘i still love you’ process in his mind.

“In our wedding vows, you promised me that we would work through whatever issues we had. You would listen before assuming the worst. What changed?”

Sebastian let out a deep breath. “Honestly, I knew we were growing apart and I was looking for an easy out.”

Those words stung but I nodded, accepting it. “I know that I haven't signed the papers but you haven't either. Why?”

“I’m afraid,” Seb admitted.

“Of what?”

“Starting over, I guess. What we had was all I had ever known. A part of me knows that we were so in love and we had some amazing times together. We were passionate about everything together, our dreams were in sync and hell, even in the bedroom we were in sync.”

My cheeks flushed at the thoughts of us in bed together but let Sebastian continue.

“I think the reason why we grew apart was that we never had time to grow on our own. Y/N, I was the only guy you had ever been with and it put a lot of pressure on me to make sure you weren’t missing anything.”

“You’re the only one I ever wanted, Seb.” I let the tears fall this time. “I had so much pressure on myself to keep you interested and happy. You knew all these beautiful girls and were around them all the time. Drinking was the only way I could deal with the jealousy. In the end, it only pushed you away.”

“You were the only one I was thinking about when I was gone.” Sebastian coughed, trying to cover a sob. “I loved you so much, Y/N. I never wanted to be with anyone else.”

“What about now?,” I wondered. “How do you feel about me now? Do I still make your heart skip a beat when I walk into the room or does your stomach do those flips whenever I laugh?”

I could tell that he was in deep thought, truly wondering what he felt for me.

“Please be honest. I need to know the truth to move on.” I sobbed. “If you tell me that you never want to see me again and want me out of your life, then I will walk away from you right now. I’ll go back home tomorrow and deliver the divorce papers to your lawyer, signed. But if there is even a slight chance you want me, then please let me know.”

For the first time in a very long time, I saw Seb break down and cry. His soft sobs broke me and I fought the urge to run into his arms.

“I don’t know. I should have stayed away from you the moment I sent you the divorce papers but I couldn’t. I found myself making excuses to come see you, to be with you. I tried to move on, hoping being with someone else would make it easier to forget about you but it only made it worse.”

“Then why didn’t you stay with me?” I choked.

“I was afraid,” Sebastian admitted.

“Afraid of what?” I pressed on with the questions.

However I noticed that Seb’s body tensed up, the topic suddenly coming to an immediate halt.

“We should head back, it's getting dark.” He motioned towards our hotel room behind me.

“Not until you answer the question. What were you afraid of?” I stood tall, arms crossed.

Sebastian shook his head, the same sour scowl appeared on his face that I had become all too familiar with.

“I need some space,” was all he said before leaving me alone.

Yet again.

My body thrashed against the bed sheets, tossing and turning, trying to let sleep take me. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore did nothing to calm my tired brain. Darkness engulfed the room, the only light casting on the wall opposite of my back from the moon outside.

The throbbing knocking of a headache kept pressing against my skull and now matter what I could do, I couldn’t stop the tears from staining the pillow case.

I had returned to the hotel room, alone, and after crying in the shower for over an hour, I mustered all of my strength to throw a tshirt and a pair of underwear on before crawling into bed. Seb hadn’t returned yet and the only thing that let me know he was still in town was that his bags were still neatly placed on the other side of the room, next to the mini bar.

The mini bar that had called to me so many times since returning. I fought the urge, ignoring the temptation and only thinking of one thing that mattered to me anymore.

My sobriety.

Letting out a deep sigh, I clutched the pillow closer to me and as I heard the door click open behind me, my body tensed.

Thinking I was asleep, Sebastian quietly undressed himself before softly climbing into bed not wanting to wake me. Our backs were to one another and the space between us was cold and alone.

The space between us was a representation of how far away we had felt from one another, emotionally.

It was made clear by me that I still selfishly loved him and refused to sign the papers because I had hope that we would work through this like we worked through all of our other problems.

Sebastian made it clear that he was afraid of letting me go, he was comfortable with me and he wasn’t sure if love was the right word to express his feelings for me. He was afraid of telling me why.

As the tears returned, I buried my face into my pillow to silence my cries, not wanting to let Sebastian know I was awake.

There was a sudden shift in the bed, the mattress dipping low as Seb’s body rolled over towards me. Suddenly, I felt all the bad melt away as his arm wrapped around my stomach, pulling me into his bare chest.

“Please stop crying. I can’t take it anymore knowing I’m the reason why,” he breathed into my hair.

The familiar feeling of his chest against my back seemed to calm my sobs for a moment.

“I know I need to move on and let you go but I can’t. I love you, Seb.” I cried.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” Seb hushed my cries by pulling me closer to him.

Turning to my side, I buried my face into him. The small hairs of his chest tickling my cheeks. My hands clutched his hips, afraid this was all a dream and that he would vanish at any second. His soft lips brushed against my forehead before I felt him take a deep breath.

“I was afraid of not living up to the husband I vowed to be. I loved you so much, Y/N and I wanted to give you everything you deserved. That’s why I took as many jobs as I could, so I could provide for you and our future.”

“I was afraid that you’d wake up one day and realize that I wasn’t worth fighting for. I thought that being away from you and causing you all this pain would make it easier for you to leave me but in the end it only brought us closer I think.”

Pulling away from him, I looked into his eyes. “How so?”

His soft fingers gently brush a stand of hair from my eyes. “We both needed time to grow and realize what we truly wanted.”

Licking my lips, my gaze bounced from his plump lips towards the soft glow of love oozing from his eyes.

“And what is it that you want?” I gulped.

Our eyes locked and no words were spoken as Seb leaned down, his lips meeting mine for the first time in over a year. All the time apart meant nothing, both remembering the way our lips would move together in sync. His hand cupped my cheek, afraid that I would pull away, while my arms snaked around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Unfortunately, we both needed to come up for air and reluctantly pulled away. Seb’s thumb brushed my cheek bone and I closed my eyes at the familiar touch.

“What about-?”

Sebastian hushed the name from my lips with a soft kiss. “It’s been over for months. I tried to move on but nobody is you.”

“I vow to remain sober and whenever I have issues with myself or I’m feeling myself pulling away from you, that I will talk to you about it. I vow that I will be the woman you fell in love with all those years ago. Just please don’t leave me. I need you so much more than you know.” I pressed my lips to his again, loving the way they tasted.

Sebastian brushed his lips against my hairline, breathing in my scent. “I want you, all of you, now and for the rest of my life. This I vow to you.”

“I love you, Sebastian Stan.” I breathed.

“I love you too, Y/N Stan. More than you will ever know,” Sebastian mused.

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan and reader #bucky barns fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #reader insert #james buchanan barnes

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coochiequeens · 3 years

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Susan Dela Cuesta, 57, and her partner, David Crouch, 78, will soon know if they have full custody of their one-year-old granddaughter. The child’s mother, 20-year-old Caroline Crouch, was killed on 11 May this year, by her husband, Charalambos Anagnostopoulos, 33. Initially, he had claimed that intruders had murdered his wife. “One thing that makes me even more sad than her death is the fact that our daughter will grow up without remembering her beautiful mother,” he said, before his arrest, at Crouch’s funeral.

Her diaries revealed that she had been in an abusive, controlling relationship. Now, it seems likely that the little girl will grow up not in Athens but on the island of Alonissos, her maternal grandparents’ retirement home. “There,” her grandmother said, “she will not be known as a killer’s daughter.”

She is one of many children each year, hidden behind headlines about killings, who are left motherless by femicide. Families and friends will struggle to take on the role of carers, hit by a juggernaut of sudden loss and unexpected added responsibility.

Their stories are just some of those now being highlighted by the Observer, as part of its collaboration with the Femicide Census, a database that includes a 10-year review of all female killings. Activist and former solicitor Clarrie O’Callaghan, and Karen Ingala Smith, chief executive of Nia, a sexual and domestic violence charity founded the census. They have been helped by pro bono support from Freshfields Bruckhaus Deringer, an international law firm, and consultants Deloitte. The aim of our collaboration is to try to reduce the rate of femicide. One woman is killed by a man every three days, a statistic unchanged for a decade.

“The least the government can do is to establish precisely how many children are affected and produce an action plan to meet their needs. Currently, that is not happening,” says O’Callaghan.

She and Ingala Smith estimate that at least 80 children a year in the UK are left motherless by femicide. “Bereavement through violence has a profound impact on children, even more so when the perpetrator is your father,” says Ingala Smith. “In addition to the trauma of loss, there are the questions of identity, loyalty and genetic inheritance.”

Emma Radley of Winston’s Wish, a charity that supports bereaved children, says that many of them “puddle jump’’. “One minute they will be in the depths, crying , wanting to know, ‘Where’s Mummy?’, the next they will be asking if they can go out and play. It can make adults think, ‘It’s OK now’. And it may not be. It can have a domino effect on a child’s entire life.”

In the UK, in what is still the only major study of children affected by one parent killing the other, six-year-old Harry was asked to draw what he saw when his father shot his mother and later killed himself.

“Are you sure you want to see it?” Harry asked. “I can only draw sad faces.” Often, children stay silent in case the pain is too much for their new carer and they are abandoned again.

The study, When Father Kills Mother, was conducted by a team of child and adolescent psychiatrists headed by Dora Black, now retired. In it, the team records how 400 children impacted by domestic homicide, “flotsam in the sea of life”, were helped. Forty per cent (160) were under five at the time of the killing. Some had been returned to the care of the perpetrator, having witnessed the killing. Many suffered from anxiety, nightmares, phobias, post-traumatic stress, aggressive behaviour and an inability to trust –“frozen watchfulness”.

“If they behave as if nothing has happened,” the authors warned, “this should be regarded as a problem.”

The book was first published almost 30 years ago when “psychological first aid”, understanding and practical help were in short supply – so, has there been progress?

Drawing on the Femicide Census database, 80% of mothers (402) in domestic homicides were killed by a current or former partner. For example, Mumtahina Jannat, 29, mother of two, was strangled by her husband, Abdul Kadir, 49, in 2011, six years after they had separated. Five per cent (27) of mothers were killed by strangers.

In 19% of cases it’s unknown if the victims had children under 18. Over 10 years, at least 52 children were killed and, excluding by terrorist attack, 31 were killed by their father. In at least 19 cases, femicide was followed by suicide leaving the child or children orphans.

More than 100 children witnessed a killing or were in the home when it occurred. In one instance, a man murdered his girlfriend and their 10-month-old daughter in a “sustained and fearsome” knife attack, leaving a two-year-old in the house with his dead mother and sibling for over 24 hours.

In 59% of domestic homicides, a history of domestic abuse was identified, “a considerable undercount”, according to the census. So, long before the loss of a mother, many children will have witnessed, if not experienced, violence and coercive control.

Roann Court, 27, appears confident and outgoing but some days, she says, that melts away. In 2009, Benjamin Cooper, 35, stabbed Court’s mother, Clare, 41 times. She had left him after a decade of abuse. Court, then 15, witnessed the attack, grabbed her little sister, ran to a neighbour and returned to try to save her mother. ”My mother’s last words to me were: ‘Look after the girls.’”

She says: “I wouldn’t be here but for my nan, my husband and my two boys. I’ve taught myself how to cope. He [Cooper] is out now after only 10 years; our sentence continues.”

Court’s “brilliant” grandparents, then in their 50s, adopted their three granddaughters. “They picked up the pieces.” Therapy, however, soon stopped. “It was PTSD treatment for veterans. They don’t know how to deal with children. My sister was three but she can remember word for word what happened. It’s so important to ask the child. Instead, the professionals would talk to my nan and grandad but only we can know what we need.”

Court’s sister is now 15. She has good support from school but, “she does ask, ‘What if I turn out like him?’ And some parents of school friends seem to think murder is catching.”

Court says she remembers her mother as someone full of life who, “loved dancing, Elvis Presley and laughter” and “not as a dead woman in the newspapers”, adding: “That matters to me.”

She would like to become a child counsellor if she can find the money. “I didn’t get the support that I needed when I was young so if I can help someone else experiencing what I did, I’ll feel good about myself.”

Hetti Barkworth-Nanton chairs Refuge, a domestic abuse charity and is co-founder of the Joanna Simpson Foundation, set up to help children bereaved by domestic homicide and fund research.

“Is there enough support today? Categorically no,” she says. JSF was established after the killing of her best friend, Jo, in 2010 by her husband, leaving two children. “When support does happen, it’s patchy at best. Victim support is for the adult but the child is invisible.

“Almost half of these children end up in care or, on average, they are moved four or five times, changing schools, not allowed back into homes after a killing so they can retrieve clothes or school work or something to remind them of their mother. They may be bounced between both sides of battling families and end up in limbo when what they desperately need is love and security.”

A domestic homicide review (DHR) investigates a killing to learn lessons and make recommendations. A 2018 report analysed 55 DHRs published between 2011 and 2016 that involved children under 18. Only three had any input from a child; only 11 mentioned ongoing support for the children.

Advocacy After Fatal Domestic Abuse, an extraordinary charity that provides specialist advice and support for families, would like to see children having a voice and many more specially trained child advocates.

Also not considered in the DHRs was how, after separation, the family courts and other agencies continue to insist that “contact is best”, a dangerous man can still be a “good enough father”, even when he is using contact to continue to exercise coercive control.

A Women’s Aid report lists 19 child fatalities from 12 families in the context of post-separation contact. In 2014, Claire Throssell’s sons, Jack,12, and Paul, nine, were burned to death by their father, Darren Sykes, on a contact visit. Now, she campaigns. Belatedly and slowly, reform is underway but some judges still fail to understand the toxicity of coercive control.

What is it like for a child to be returned to the care of a man whom your mother feared? Gemma Graham lectures in forensic psychology. On 1 May 1993, when Graham was six, her mother, Linda, took her own life. “She had left her husband after years of abuse, but he kept tracking her down. She lived in terror. She told my grandmother, ‘If anything happens to me, don’t let him have Gemma’.”

Graham was placed in foster care. “I never lived with my brother again. I thought I’d done something bad.”

Then, her father won custody. He had a new partner. “They were violent, noisy, drunken,” she says. When she was nine, her father abandoned her to his partner who told Graham to leave five years later. “There was no love. She wouldn’t let me eat in the same room. I got accused of bullying at school. Nobody recognised something was wrong. I’m 34 now and I’m still massively impacted. Two years ago, I told my husband, ‘I’m alive but I’m not living. I’m constantly catastrophising about losing my job, my marriage, my friends.’ Anything would trigger those awful feelings I had as a child.”

Graham had a year of trauma therapy. “It was the best and the worst thing I’ve ever done. Eighteen months ago, I couldn’t have had this conversation. Now, I’ve got a mental tool kit that reminds me: ‘You’ll be all right.’”

Outcomes for children after a killing are linked to support for their carers. Many relatives, or kinship carers, have a special guardianship order until the child reaches 18. Some have to share parental responsibility with the perpetrator and allow his family access to his children.

Leeds City Council has a dedicated team to support special guardians (SGs), offering assessment, training, workshops and practical and financial help.

That is rare. A group of organisations, including the charity Kinship, are campaigning to improve the help SGs receive. Income is an issue. If a grandmother gives up work for a second round of parenting, her pension will suffer. She may also face sanctions from the jobcentre, further reducing her income.

“Kinship care and poverty are inextricably linked,” says the charity’s chief executive Lucy Peake.

Unlike fostering, which usually has a minimum allowance of £134 a week, the average weekly allowance for SGs is about £91, although one in four receive no allowance at all. A child may receive a payout from the Criminal Injuries Compensation Authority but that is generally reserved until they come of age.

On 28 November 2018, George Worgan strangled his wife, Kelly, 33. Their children were aged four and five. He must serve 12 and a half years before he is eligible for parole. Two days after the killing, grandparents Glynis and Paul Holder became the children’s carers. Paul, 57, has disabilities and Glynis, 65, is his full-time carer. Glynis says: “Social workers were here all the time. It was stressful.”

Money is sparse but the community has given strong support. The children were given “a van load” of Christmas presents, their first without their mother. “It’s been very hard,” Glynis says. “As my granddaughter grows up, how she walks, her temperament, is so like her mum.

“They won’t sleep alone. She is having therapy. The other day she made a mask, inside she had written ‘Help’. The father used to say there was something wrong with my grandson. He used to smack him. When the boy started school, he was still in nappies. Now he is doing so well. They know we love them and they are safe.”

This year, for the first time, domestic abuse legislation recognises children as victims of abuse in their own right. The Home Office says it has provided more than £3m for specialist services for children. It is currently undertaking consultation prior to statutory guidance.

In 2018, Italy passed a law for children affected by domestic homicide, “orfani speciali”, based on the work of the late feminist campaigner, Professor Anna Constanza Baldry. Among other elements, it provides money for scholarships, further education, job training, legal aid, medical and psychological care, and funds civil proceedings and a monthly allowance. It also ensures the child receives their dead parent’s pension and the right to change their name. The UK needs a similar model.

Of course, the best outcome of all would be for the killing and abuse to stop.

Care system failings

Children may also become victims of femicide because of statutory neglect. Samantha (Sami) Sykes had known Elisa Frank and her younger sister, Kimberley (Kim) Frank, since primary school in Wakefield, West Yorkshire. Then, the Franks were placed in care.

In a children’s home, Elisa began a relationship with Ahmad Otak, who arrived in Britain in 2007 as a refugee, an unaccompanied minor. After he and Elisa moved in together he would threaten to sew up Elisa’s mouth and kill her relatives if she left him. Sami successfully encouraged Elisa to end the relationship.

“Sami was fearless,” says her mother, Julie Warren-Sykes, an NHS associate director of nursing. “She had a strong sense of right and wrong.”

In March 2012, Elisa, 19, and Kim, 17, were in Elisa’s flat when Otak arrived. He tied up Elisa and stabbed Kim to death and made Elisa call Sami, 18, whom he also killed. He is serving 34 years.

“Looked-after children are also victims of femicide,” Warren-Sykes says. “No one confronted Otak about his abuse except Sami. When vulnerable children do come forward and nothing is done, what kind of message does it send to all women?”

Warren-Sykes and her family established the remarkable Samantha Sykes Foundation Trust, in 2014, to support children in care and care leavers. More than 3,000 young people have been helped with further education, laptops, transport costs and therapy.

“It was important to turn what was so brutal and negative into something positive in Sami’s name,” she says.

#Domestic homicide #Violence against women and children #Special guardians #Children left motherless because of domestic violence

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renee-writer · 2 years

Text

My Soul Calls to You Chapter 18

AO3

The next few weeks see, Susan Campbell, daughter of the Laid, delivered of a healthy lad. The baby looks like his grandsire, to his delight. Claire also visits other’s of the clan, with the assistance of Rupert, serving as both chauffeur and bodyguard. Some of the lasses she sees, although overall healthy, need a bit more nutrition. With the help of their Laird, reveling in the presence of his healthy grandchild, they receive it.

At five months into her pregnancy, near the time they lost Faith, Jamie asks her to confine her healing art to the manor house and it’s surgery. “I want you to keep helping those that need your service. I would just prefer that they come to you. I know that Ellen and Alex were easy births.” At her look he is quick to add, “ relatively. But, I just don’t wish you taken chances.”

Their first born is never far from their minds. She agrees. Besides, she has another patient, closer to home. Her sister- in- law, is also expecting. The twins are but seven months. She needs to figure out a way to keep the babies from coming so close together. She has yet to figure it out but isn’t given up hope.

Alex turns six and his favorite thing is running after his father and helping with chores. He is assigned a place in the stables with Murtagh. He teaches him to muck them out and how to be gentle in brushing down the horses.

Jamie talks with the clan leaders at Lallybroch. He will not leave Claire nor his active lads. Busy with the duties of a Laird, he still is determined to be a grand husband and da. Fergus is a mischief maker and needs the loving and guiding hand of his papa.

Brian plans, meanwhile, to go see Lord Lovett. He doesn’t want the duties of the running of Beauly but it is his responsibility as the eldest. He will see his father peacefully laid to rest and get more fighting men to help secure his family and tenants. He will need to assign a caretaker to Beauly’s farmland. As he doesn’t wish to breakup the family by sending Ian to tend it, he will assign Simon, his half brother to the task.

With those plans set in his head, he sets off for Beauly. It is a four day ride for himself and Rupert. Angus is left behind as one of the Fraser’s fighting men. The Duke of Argyle had sent him several letters in regards to the Mackenzie’s. They are making plans to stops civil war. Those are things he will think more on after seeing his father laid to rest and the estate settled.

Lord Lovett is on his death bed when they arrive. Brian kneels by his father, takes his hand and meets his eyes. “I am here father. You may leave in peace.” The older man gives him a smile, a soft squeeze of his hand and, breaths his last. Brian is now Lord Lovett.

The funeral is set for the next day. Among the honored guests is the Duke of Argyle, as he was friends with the departed lord. After the funeral, Brian has a talk with his brother, Simon. “Simon, I am making you day to day caretaker of Beauly. You have the authority to do the planting and harvesting, to keep the books. I will oversee the rest from Lallybroch. I will also be taken twenty-five of our finest fighting men. They will help in keeping my lands safe. You have heard what is happening with the Mackenzie’s.”

He sends word ahead to the Campbell’s and Grants on why a mini army will be marching through their land. He doesn’t want a misunderstanding with his mate’s. They arrive home a week later. On the way there, he had given some thought about redoing the manor house.

“I know we have the croft houses to house the new men,” he discusses with Jamie, “but I would feel better if some were in the house.”

“Aye, besides with the way the bairns are arriving.”

Construction on the new Fraser Manor is to be started after the harvest. They wish to do as much as they can before October. The plans are to complete the inside walls, roof and, archway. The original design had only a few rooms on the second and third floor. The new design is set to make it the size of Beauly Castle.

Three weeks after construction begins, Brian receives another letter from the Duke of Argyle. His presence is requested at a meeting to discuss the future of Scotland.

#my writing #outlander fanfic #my soul calls to you #chapter 18 #jamie and claire #cannon divergence #outlander fandom

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stanbillyhargrove · 4 years

Text

11 minutes

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

But Billy missed her call, had been on the other line with Max for a quick visit. He was telling her about how he was planning to propose, perfecting his plan. When he heard her message his belly filled with butterflies and he smirked, thinking about a stupid joke she had told him once. "Why would you eat butterflies? How will they come out?"

And sure, they weren't always sunshine and butterflies, sometimes they fought like feral dogs, words biting sharp and deep. But they had stained each other, they weren't the same without the other anymore. There was nobody else who could balance them out, it's like they were made for each other.

But eleven, fifteen, twenty minutes pass and now the butterflies in Billy's stomach have died, turned to lead. He paces the floor, heart trying to pound it's way out of his chest. And it felt like he was going to sink through the fucking floor with how heavy his gut felt. She's not answering her phone and it's one, two hours later when Hop comes to his door.

Hop hates doing these visits, hates it even more that it's someone he knows. Cause he used to pull Billy over all the time for speeding and then one day there had been a girl in the car with Billy who looked at Hop with a smug grin and said "I kept telling him to slow down." She'd filled the car with her laugh when Hop walked away and he'd heard it before he got into his cruiser and he figured Billy had found someone good in his life. Someone to balance out all the bad that Billy had grown up with, cause he'd grown with Neil Hargrove who everyone knew was a monster. But Billy had met her and they'd moved into their own little place as soon as they could, just outside of town and now Hop was here to destroy his whole world.

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

Hop hates these visits, hates seeing how people crumple in on themselves when he tells them. But Billy didn't crumple, his eyebrows knit together and he shook his head.

"No, she was only ten minutes away. That's impossible."

"I'm sorry, Son. You can come to the hospital with me to see her."

It's the first snow fall of the year and the roads are slick and Billy told her, told her so many times, to drive safe and be careful on her way home. And Billy's in the back of Hop's cruiser cause he can't drive himself and the ring is in his pocket and it weighs a tonne. When they pass the intersection, the last intersection before getting to their house, Billy sees her car being pulled onto a truck and it's half the size that it should be. The drivers side is demolished, destroyed, it's all shattered windows and crushed metal. Billy thinks he's gunna puke when he sees the pink snow.

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

Billy would, would sell his fucking soul to go back, to tell her how much he fucking loved her. Cause she held his black heart in her hands and made him whole and now she's gone. Billy ran a shaking hand down the side of her cold face.

"H-how...how the fuck did this happen, Hop?"

Hop laid a large hand on Billy's shoulder, "drunk driver."

"But she..she doesn't look-" Billy still didn't believe it, "is this a joke?"

"Billy, this isn't a joke."

"But she looks fine," Billy's eyes were so big, dewy.

Hopper let out a long sigh before the doctor with them took over, "her ribs broke, stuck into her organs. She died of internal bleeding."

Hopper squeezed his shoulder, "I'll give you a minute, I need to call her parents."

Billy crumpled then, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and clutched her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I should have..should have told you. I should have picked you up, I should've..."

When Hop comes back, Billy is sitting on the floor, holding her hand in his.

"Son."

Billy looks at him, all red ringed eyes and this is why Hop hates when he has to do this. Almost hates it enough to quit the force because that look, that fucking look, rips away a piece of his soul every time.

"I can take you home, Son. Unless you want me to call someone?"

Billy's lip wavers and his voice is hitched and he feels like he's dying when he coughs out, "Max."

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

And it's a week later when Billy has to drag himself out of bed for her funeral. Well, Max drags him out of bed cause she's stayed with him ever since and he's drank himself to sleep every day and he hasn't showered all week and he smells as dead as he feels. But Max slides an arm under his shoulders and half carries him to the bathroom, only complaining a little.

"Billy, you're really heavy. You gotta help me out here."

Max shoves him into the bathroom and waits until she hears him get into the shower before letting herself in. She didn't want to leave him alone and she had to get herself ready anyway. It was a while before Max heard a withering sigh.

"It should have been me," he murmured.

Max turned around, staring at the shower curtain, "Billy.."

"She was so good, too good, it should have been me," he rambled, turning off the water.

"Don't say that," she chided, passing a towel into the hand he had stuck out of the curtain.

He stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist and Max frowned at the sight of him. His normal broad golden shoulders were drooped in and he looked pale, withered, like he had spent the last week decaying away and in a sense, he had been.

"It's not fair, Max," Billy broke then, new tears rolling down his face.

Max stepped forward and gathered her brother into her arms, holding his back like she might be able to keep him together. And she kind of did, but Billy had died a week ago so there wasn't much to hold together anymore and now his heart had been cremated, incinerated and he had to compose himself to sit in a room full of people and her ashes. His arms wrapped around Max loosely but his hands twisted into her shirt as he cried into her shoulder.

Billy is 23 and thought he had his whole life to spend with the one good person in his shitty life and Max is 18 and she's never seen her brother as anything but strong. But she has to be the strong one now, standing in a room of people who came to honor the love of Billy's life. Max holds onto his hand with white knuckles and keeps her sobs at bay in order to keep him grounded. Billy makes it through with puffy eyes and a clenched jaw and he takes her urn home with him and places it in his room with the ring on top and drinks himself to sleep again.

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

Billy never deletes the message from his phone, he keeps it and plays it every day just to hear her voice. And every Sunday, every fucking Sunday, Billy goes to the flower shop and buys a bouquet of roses and forget me nots and he and Max go for lunch and take most of the flowers to the intersection. Billy keeps a bit of the bouquet to bring home and lay on her urn and Max moves in with him, to finish out her school year so that he's not alone. And it's good that she does cause all the other twerps are always at the house and they force Billy to be better, they force life back into him with their game nights and pizza fridays and they fill the house with laughter, life, and Billy starts to glow again. He gets his life back on track, stops soaking in his grief and let's himself heal and after Max moves out and goes to college he starts dating again. Max never misses a Sunday, if she can't make the drive back she'll phone Billy and they'll talk for hours about their week but she never misses it. Billy tells his new girlfriend after six months, about the time he died, had his heart cremated and brings her into the Sunday tradition.

Hey Baby, I'm eleven minutes away. I've missed you all day. Can't wait to see you. Love you.

Now he's twenty six and he takes the ring off the urn and he's not going to miss out this time. So he plans everything perfectly, middle of summer, he takes her out for a picnic, away from everything and he gets down on one knee and pours out his heart to her, the one that she helped rebuild. The first person they call is Max who's bleary eyed on the other side of the video chat and starts excitedly planning with Billy's new fiance.

They're twenty seven when they get married and Max is the Maid of Honor cause she saved Billy's life when he died and she's beaming from ear to ear when she officially has a big sister and everybody's laughing and dancing and even Susan came to support Billy. And when the dancing is in full swing, Billy's sneaks out the back and drives to the intersection. He sits there and talks to her, the first love of his life, and tells her how he misses her and he's sorry, he'll never not be sorry but he tells her how much love his wife has brought into his life. How she and Max coaxed him back from the dead and he'll never forget her and he doesn't wish that he died in her place anymore. He's alone there for a while before headlights shine behind him and Max and his wife get out of the car.

"Hey," Max calls, "you're missing the party."

Billy stands, takes his wife under his arm and presses a kiss to her temple, "I know, just had to get away for a minute."

Billy's wife, the new love of his life, presses her fingers to her lips and then to the cross they had put there, leaving a light red mark on the wood and looks at Billy, "do you want us to stay?"

He smiles, shakes his head and buries his face in her hair, "no, let's go back."

#billy hargrove fluff #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfiction #fanfic

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vmheadquarters · 4 years

Text

Welcome to…

We’re going to play a game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors will take turns telling this story. Each writer will craft a chapter (with no prior planning) and then “toss” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected! Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. — Chapter Two of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @nearfantastica.

And stayed tuned next week for Ch.3 from @saoirsekonstantin -tag, you’re it!———————————————————————————————————– [CH1]

CHAPTER TWO by @nearfantastica a/k/a casket4mytears

“Of course he’s dead. Murder mystery weekend?” Dick rolled his eyes. “Look, we all know Ronnie’s gonna work her PI magic and solve this with ten minutes of searching Google. Nerd. Can we go back inside and drink now?”

“No Dick,” Logan gently chastised, as if explaining to his child yet again that he couldn’t grow up and be a Jedi. “This isn’t part of the game. He’s actually dead.”

Gia spun around, poking Luke in the chest. “I did not sign up for actual dead bodies, Luke. You told me this would be fun.”

A lump formed in Veronica’s throat as she stared at the lifeless form of Leo D’Amato. Years ago, before Lilly’s murder, she’d considered following in father’s footsteps and pursuing a career in law enforcement. She’d toyed with the idea anew last summer at her FBI internship, the possibilities a Rubik’s Cube spun deftly in her palms. Moments like these reminded her why she’d veered towards practicing law instead.

Bodies, especially those of people she knew, unsettled her. The inertia of them, the inconsistency… she couldn’t reconcile it. People breathe. People move. At Lilly’s funeral, she remembered whispering to her father that it wasn’t Lilly—that Lilly was never still. That they should shut the casket, because Lilly would hate to be remembered as motionless.

“Veronica?”

She was coaxed back to the present by the sound of Logan’s voice, concerned and closer than she expected it. He was crouched beside her, shining his light over the body. Casting her own Maglite across the ice, she noticed something fluttering beneath the camping lantern. Hmm…

“You okay? I know that you and Leo… were friendly.”

Veronica huffed softly. “We dated. Briefly, until I cheated on him with you. I’m fine, Logan.” Glancing over at him, she smiled gratefully. “Thank you for asking.”

Logan’s gloved hand reached for hers, offering a reassuring squeeze. For a moment, she lost herself in the depths of his eyes, all fears of frostbite forgotten as her heart panged with regret. Seven months, nine days and six hours, and no bookie in Vegas would touch the odds of her moving past Logan Echolls now.

Focus, Veronica!

Gently extricating her hand from Logan’s, Veronica rose slowly to her feet, circling around the pool of blood towards the lantern. She kept her eyes downcast, scanning for footprints, drag marks, anything of use, but saw nothing. The blustery winds of the snowstorm were swiftly disposing of evidence for the killer. Retrieving her phone from her jeans pocket, she began snapping photos of the fluttering object in situ—well aware the police would be furious she was touching it at all.

“Phone. Good idea!” Casey enthused. “We need the cops here now.”

“Casey, do you really think there’s reception on Death Island on a good day, let alone during a storm like this?” Carrie sneered. “Do you see a cell phone tower anywhere?”

Casey bristled, adjusting the collar of his parka. “Technological advancements being what they are—“

“I have no bars and I’m just taking photos,” Veronica snapped, reaching down to retrieve the mystery object.

Now this might be useful…

“Hey, hey! She’s hogging all of the clues!” Cole protested, tapping Kimmy on the arm.

Brushing a tear from her cheek, Kimmy shoved him aside. “You idiot! This isn’t a game anymore! How many drinks did you have tonight?”

“ENOUGH,” Logan warned, silencing the chatter. “Veronica, what is that?”

“It’s a folded sheet of paper,” she replied, tucking it in her pocket. “It’s too wet out here. If it has writing on it, I don’t want the snow to damage it. We should read it inside the house.”

“No, what we should do is get the hell out of here, fast!” Wallace shouted. “I’ve seen my share of horror movies. As the only person of color in this group, that means I’m the likeliest to end up with a knife, a bullet or a fish hook in my gut.”

Veronica frowned, stepping forward to console him. “Wallace, it’s going to be okay—“

Wallace’s arms flew up in the air. “For you, maybe! You’re the Final Girl! White girl, PI, your ex dead on the ice. Come on now, Supafly. Name a horror movie where a Black man lives to the end. No, we need off this rock. And until we’re off it, I go where you go. You feel me?”

“Where else would you go? I’m your plus one,” she soothed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “I need to check one thing and then we’re headed back to the house to figure a way out of here, okay?”

Wallace nodded anxiously, glancing sideways at Logan. “Alright. But we need to bounce.”

“No arguments here.”

Reluctantly, she circled Leo’s body and snapped photos from a variety of angles. Fighting the urge to vomit, she reached inside his jacket pocket, retrieving his wallet and a set of car keys, but finding no other papers or items of note. Satisfied she had everything useful, she headed back to the warmth of the mansion, eager to escape the sleet pelting her bare cheeks. Logan and Wallace—ever helpful in a crisis--ushered the party guests along behind her.

As she trudged through the snow, Veronica considered her priorities: contact authorities; secure evidence; keep everyone together. Wallace was right: they needed to get off the island or engage law enforcement as quickly as possible. In the meantime, if a killer was on this island with them, safety would be found in numbers. Cell service was a bust, but surely the sprawling home had a landline or other means of communication with the outside world. No one wealthy enough to construct a home this beautiful would leave themselves without a means of calling in the cavalry.

“Why was that guy here?” Kimmy sniffled as Veronica opened the front door. “Who even invited him? He didn’t go to Neptune High, did he?”

“He went to a dance, once,” Carrie replied. “I’m surprised you don’t remember it, Kimmy. Meg invited him for Veronica. Shouldn’t you have that memorized as part of your body snatching?”

“And I thought it was icy outside,” Wallace muttered quietly.

“Just remember: you made me come to this party, Papa Bear.”

Kimmy tugged on Veronica’s sleeve, spinning her around. “Wait, you were dating the dead guy? Doesn’t that make you a suspect?”

“Dated, as in past tense. It’s been years, and we only went out a few times,” Veronica replied dismissively, yanking her arm away. “Leo and I were friends. Besides, the state of the body… he was dead before Wallace and I arrived.”

“She’s dating that radio dweeb now… Pizzle,” Dick interjected, pouring out a martini.

Veronica stared at her boots, avoiding Logan’s gaze as Wallace mercifully jumped into the conversation. “Also past tense. They split up in the summer. We haven’t seen him since we flew out to New York to visit him at Presbyterian, right V?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Just keep staring at the tiles…

“Poor guy got hit by a bus, the last week of his summer internship. He’s still in the hospital there, full body traction, head trauma,” Wallace continued. “Guy wasn’t even conscious when we were there.”

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that,” Logan offered quietly.

“Says the guy who rearranged his ribs and face?” Wallace snapped.

Veronica laid a warning hand on his arm. “Wallace… You promised.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” With a heavy sigh, Wallace stormed across the room to console a shuddering Alexis Link.

Veronica shot an apologetic look at Logan, who shrugged it off. It’s fine, he mouthed. It wasn’t—that much was clear from the crestfallen look that flickered across his features—but she would apologize in depth later. Her relationship with Piz, and its demise, had nothing to do with Logan’s fists of fury. Their ending was the product of a man who couldn’t see the hypocrisy in pursuing his internship and dreams, while holding her solely responsible for the long distance between them as she rightfully pursued hers. She’d ended it while still in Quantico, moving on to Stanford without looking back.

Well, not at him, anyway, she amended silently.

“You know, it’s funny,” Carrie Bishop mused aloud. “I heard that Troy Vandegraff died in a car accident over the holidays. Didn’t you date him in junior year?”

“I did, for a little while. That’s a shame…”

Out of the corner of her eye, Veronica noticed Dick tugging Logan behind the bar, struggling to wrap his hand around his bicep. How are Logan’s arms even bigger than I remember them? Logan’s expression was one of bemusement, his feet firmly planted in place.

“Black Widow,” Dick muttered ominously. “I’m not letting you end up on Dateline, dude.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself,” Logan insisted, moving to Veronica’s side.

Dick formed his index fingers into a cross, holding them up in Veronica’s direction. “Fine. Your funeral, and I’m so not sending flowers.”

Drawing a deep breath to steady herself (and to resist the urge to chuck the ornamental bowl beside her at Dick’s stupid head), Veronica smacked her palm on the table. “As much fun as rehashing my love life has been, there’s a dead man on the pond and a killer loose on the island. Priorities, people?”

Sweeping her Maglite over the group of partygoers, Veronica studied them all in turn: Wallace, her best friend, consoling a crying Alexis to her right; Carrie and Susan, imbibing with tense expressions on the sofa; Casey and Kimmy, upset, but holding it together; a shocked Luke clinging to a distraught Gia; and Cole and Dick, both of whom seemed too intoxicated to fully appreciate what was happening. And then there was Logan to her left, whose worried gaze was laser-focused on her.

“Okay, since cell phones are a bust, has anyone seen a landline?”

A lot of shaking heads, save one: Susan Knight hesitated, her brow furrowing. “Hmm… I might have seen one in the kitchen earlier?”

Carrie Bishop drained the frothy white concoction in her hand. “I’ll go look with you.”

“Cole, you go too,” Veronica ordered.

Carrie huffed angrily and advanced towards Veronica. “Of all the people in this group, the last I would expect sexist bullshit from—“

“Actually, I just want him out of my sight for five minutes and know you can take care of him. Thanks for being a pal, Carrie.”

Cole’s protests were silenced by Carrie’s arm looping around his, dragging him down the long corridor towards what Veronica assumed was the kitchen. Not that she and Wallace had gotten that far. Damn it, they hadn’t even managed a drink before this had all gone to hell.

Speaking of, Dick was still at the bar, making what were likely terrible, overly strong martinis in the dark.

“Hey, bring back snacks!” Wallace called after them. “Chips, Cheetos, a man’s not picky.”

Alexis pulled away from his embrace, tears streaming down her face. “Are you serious right now?”

“It was a long trip and I’m hungry!” Wallace protested.

Extracting Leo’s wallet from her pocket, Veronica flipped through the contents, finding little of interest. Driver’s licence, debit card, credit cards, photos of his sister and his mother. One item stood out: a current private investigator’s licence for the state of California. Huh. If she did the math… he would have renewed it recently. Last she’d heard, he was still working as a Deputy for Balboa County, although her information could be out of date.

Now, for the key find: the mystery paper pinned beneath the camping lantern on the ice. Veronica carefully unfolded it on the coffee table and shone her Maglite on it. What she found left her reeling.

It was page three of a case file from Van Lowe Investigations—and according to the header, the lead investigator was none other than Leo D’Amato himself. The text was smeared in several places from the snow, and being the third page, the notes were difficult to follow in places, but what Veronica could pick up…

“What’s that?” Casey asked.

“Motive for murder,” Veronica replied coolly, snapping photos of the page before carefully re-folding it.

“So’s being your ex,” Casey remarked dryly, earning a glare from the petite blonde. “What? We’re all thinking it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Troy and Piz had accidents. Piz? That was five months ago. Hardly relevant to—“

The thud of hurried footsteps approaching drew the attention of the group. Heads turned towards Susan, breathless and distraught, with Carrie and Cole in close pursuit.

“The phones are dead,” she panted. “But not just dead. They’re cut.”

Logan cast his flashlight in their direction. “Cut?”

“The wire was cut,” Cole blurted out, visibly shaking. “So we ran upstairs, because Carrie remembered a phone in her bedroom. But that one was cut too. We checked all the rooms upstairs, but every single phone was cut. Slashed like buddy’s throat out there.”

“What did I tell you?” Wallace snapped. “Veronica, we need to go. A brother’s about to get filleted.”

“Oh hey, found you a Milky Way!” Cole added absently, tossing a chocolate bar in Wallace’s direction.

With an exasperated sigh, Wallace unwrapped the chocolate and waved it in Veronica’s direction. “Look at this. My last meal’s going to be the weakest chocolate bar there is. Some Mars Magic, please?”

Veronica’s mouth fell open to speak, but she found herself cut off by Dick Casablancas, now wearing a tiny bow tie and carrying a tray full of martinis, as he circulated the room.

“No, no way. If we’re dying, we’re having one last drink first!” Dick insisted. “I made us chocolate martinis and we’re gonna down these bitches and say a big fuck you to murder, and then Veronica can order Logan around like her lapdog.”

“Dick,” Logan warned.

“What? Like we all don’t know she’s still got your scrotum in her super purse next to Mr. Zappy or whatever she calls that thing?” Dick handed martinis to an eager Gia and Luke with a flourish. “As Class Party Boy Peter Bogart, my alcoholism means I call ‘em like I see them. Wallace is the token, so he’s toast. I’m the frat boy, so I’m done-zo. Might as well die drunk and happy.”

“No one is going to die!” Veronica shouted. “Not if we stick together and work fast.”

“I don’t recall voting you in charge, Veronica Mars,” Gia sneered, sipping her martini. “I say we drink first.”

As Dick continued to pass around martinis, Veronica nudged Logan in the arm. “This is why I am not going to Neptune High’s reunion.”

“I’ll handle this.” Moving into the centre of the room, Logan sighed. “Fine, let’s take a vote: all in favor of drinking a martini before trying to call the police or leave the island?”

Gia, Luke, Dick, Cole, and Kimmy raised their hands.

“All in favor of leaving right now before anyone else ends up dead?”

Veronica, Logan, Wallace, Carrie, Susan, Alexis and Casey raised their hands.

“Majority says survival over booze. Sorry Gia, Veronica’s in charge now,” he added wryly.

“Thank you.” Tugging on her gloves, Veronica rolled her shoulders back. “We have no landlines and no cell phone service. Our best bet to call for help is also our way off the island: the Irish Wake. Even if the storm’s too bad to leave yet, we can try using the radio to call the coast guard for assistance. I say we head for the caretaker’s cottage and get the captain’s help.”

“Okay, have fun doing that. We’ll stay here and drink martinis,” Kimmy replied, sipping her drink. “Ooh! Is this Godiva liqueur, Dick?”

Dick clinked glasses with her, grinning. “Hell yeah!”

“No, we are all going,” Veronica insisted. “We need to stick together to stay safe.”

Gia’s leg raised in the air, dangling a knee-high leather boot with a blood-red sole and a three-inch heel. “Do these Louboutins look like they were made for trudging around the grounds of this place? I barely made it to the pond alive.”

“So change them,” Veronica snapped.

“I only brought my cute boots.” As Luke began to shake his head, Gia pouted. “You told me we were going to a party inside a beautiful house! Why would I need hiking boots, Luke? This is your fault.”

“Maybe the killer will take me next,” Luke mumbled.

“Or Gia,” Carrie muttered.

“No, it’s Logan next,” Dick insisted. “Because of the Black Widow.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Veronica rolled her eyes. “Dick, shut up. Gia, walk carefully. Luke will help you. Bring your martinis for all I care.”

As much as she wanted to abandon the group, grab Wallace and Logan and head off into the blinding snow as a trio, she’d learned years ago to keep everyone in her sight and trust nobody. There would be no metaphorical backseat surprises tonight. If she had to tie a rope around the waist of every 09’er here and drag them behind her through the drifts, she would.

She and Wallace were innocent. Everyone else was a suspect.

Even Logan?

Listening to the din of complaining rich kids, she stole a glance at her ex. Even Logan. Technically. But I know he didn’t do this.

It was Logan who identified the location of the caretaker’s cottage as they stood on the front porch, a collective of shivering bodies whipped by icy shards from the west. Visibility was near zero now, the wind cutting through the down filling of Veronica’s ski jacket, but Logan was able to just make out a small structure down a path that veered to the southwest of the property, lying between the dock and the mansion.

“That will be it,” he assured her.

“Lowly peasant I am, I’ll have to trust your expertise.”

“See the chimney, Veronica? It’s a domicile, not a storage unit or barn. Simple observation, not elitism.”

Veronica bit her tongue, pressing forward with Wallace at her side. She was off her game, and their lives literally depended on her. Contact authorities, stick together, preserve the evidence. Repeat mantra. Her love life, or lack thereof, was a distraction. Dick’s outburst—and Logan’s curiously sad expression ever since? Also a distraction.

“So, what was on the page?” Logan whispered.

His breath was hot on her ear and Veronica involuntarily shivered. Body memory carried her to happier moments: late-night conversations, their naked bodies entwined in tangled sheets. The security of his muscular arms wrapped around her frame; her head pressed to his chest, counting the beats of his heart. She bit the inside of her mouth, shocking herself back to the bitter cold of the present.

“Leo works—worked for Vinnie,” she began quietly.

Wallace edged closer and the trio picked up their pace, pulling away from the group. “Worked for him? He was a PI?”

“Apparently.”

“But he was friends with your dad. Why wouldn’t he work for him?”

Veronica shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine, Wallace. Dad probably turned him down, told him he could do better. He’s always been a lone wolf. Vinnie, on the other hand, would welcome the opportunity to recruit one of his own deputies for his OG business.”

“So the page was what, a case file?” Logan queried.

“A partial,” Veronica confirmed. “The page was water-damaged, and I couldn’t find a name anywhere on it, but from what I could read, Leo had stumbled onto a cover-up of a crime, maybe a wrongful death? It’s hard to tell with so much obscured. If Leo had ammunition like that on someone here…”

Logan glanced back, taking stock of their present company. “Someone like Luke, who plans to run for Congress. Or the Gants…”

“It’s a secret someone would kill for,” Veronica affirmed.

“But how did he get here?” Wallace asked. “We had to give our names and a code word. Did he come over with you?”

Logan shook his head. “I came over with Dick, early this afternoon. Same deal: name and code word. For Leo to cross, he would have needed an invite.”

“Maybe the captain knows something,” Veronica decided, veering down a narrow path towards the caretaker’s cottage.

The cottage was more of a bungalow house, complete with a modest yard of its own. It was nearly as large as Veronica’s childhood home, sprawling and framed with gardens edged in decorative stones. Three steps led up to a porch of deep oak, where a heavy door without a window loomed as the entrance. The curtains were all drawn, offering no view inside.

Without hesitation, Veronica jogged up the steps and pounded on the door. “Hello? Hello in there? We have an emergency!”

No answer.

Wallace approached, standing behind her. “Knock again?”

“I might have my lock pick kit in my purse somewhere,” Veronica grumbled, shining her light inside.

Logan pounded on the door, calling out to the captain, to no avail. “Yeah, I’m not getting a good feeling about this…”

Veronica’s stomach turned. “Enter through the back door?”

“Title of your sex tape!” Dick called out, immediately clamping his hand over his mouth.

Oh, he did NOT just go there!

Veronica’s hand closed around her Taser, pulling it from her purse. “After all these years, Dick you still haven’t learned…”

No sooner had Logan and Wallace’s arms flown out to restrain her than the chilling sound of Gia Goodman’s screams rang out from the back of the cottage, startling a snowy owl into a frantic flight across the night sky.

#veronica mars #veronica mars fanfic #vm fanfic #vmhq presents #murder we wrote #round robin

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ifjanetranit · 6 years

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My dad, Gene Nehser, died on the evening of July 4th, 2018. I wrote something last week about him, but this week it has really hit home that I no longer have any living parents. And I don’t feel like I’m that old. I have friends my age who have recently been dealing with the loss of grandparents. I’m a planner, and this wasn’t in my life plan. But such is life and the curve balls it throws you.

It’s no secret that my dad struggled in his retirement years. I’m not going to sugarcoat it, but I also don’t want to ignore the fact that I had pretty great parents when it counted. They impressed the importance of family. We ate together as a family every night at 6 pm, we went camping and to the ocean (that’s what we called vacationing back in the 70′s), and we showed up to stuff. I still remember one of my mom’s friends saying, “Betty and Gene’s kids always come to everything together.” Wedding, funeral, shower, reunion, picnic...the Nehser kids usually tried to attend. Even as adults. Maybe we’re nice. Maybe we’re big on ceremony. Maybe we’re just nosy. But I think we like to be there for people, and it’s also an excuse to see each other.

So despite the difficulties my parents had in their retirement years, I can’t deny that they raised four kids who genuinely like each other. And we all couldn’t be more different.

We have different religious and political views. Different educations and skill sets. Different approaches on how to interact with our aging parents. Not one of my siblings is on social media (I know!!), so one of their kids or spouses will have to tell them about this post. My brother Bill doesn’t even carry a cell phone, and yet we talk on the phone several times a week. My sister thinks camping is a great vacation (Scott and I tried to tent camp with her family once, and that’s still a fun story we share around the Christmas tree). Tom is six years older, and I still kind of treat him like he’s my younger brother (I’m a little bossy).

Today we got together and went through my dad’s house and took the things we wanted before we started the big clean-up. We didn’t fight over any objects, pictures, heirlooms, or furniture.

Me: I might take that rocking chair.

Susan: If you don’t want it, I’ll take it.

Me: You can have it. I’ll just take it when you die.

What we all share is a bit of an off-kilter sense of humor. And that comes from both parents. They were a rich combination of sarcasm, dry wit, teasing, and mirth. And while I am deeply sad that they are both gone too soon, I am comforted by the people they left behind to hold their torch. You’re supposed to make the world a better place with your children, and in that regard Gene and Betty were a big success.

As a side note, that last photo was taken around 1983 on my parents’ living room couch. My siblings and I got together and purchased that ocean print and gave it to my parents as an anniversary gift. We all love the Pacific Coast, and my parents honeymooned in Depot Bay, OR. I’m hoping we can spread their ashes there.

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sunnyisreading · 6 years

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BOOKTUBE-A-THON 2018. DAY 1: 30TH JULY 2018, MONDAY. As I am not one of those people who tend to get a lot done while sleep deprived, i didn't start BookTube-A-Thon at midnight, but rather got some sleep and started early and fresh in the morning. Although Monday wasn't a paticulary busy day, I didn't get a lot of reading done.

I started and finished The Boys Who Danced With The Moon, a coming-of-age tale by Mark Paul Oleksiw that I gave 4 out of 5 stars. The Boys Who Danced With The Moon was a book that the coin-flip chose for my first read; I was deciding between this book and A Thousand Perfect Notes, C.G. Drew's debut novel which I still plan to read in August.

You can find my review for The Boys Who Danced With The Moon here.

As I didn't feel like starting a new book from my BookTube-A-Thon TBR, I ended up reading about 120 pages of The Way of Kings, an epic fantasy by Brandon Sanderson that I am really enjoying so far; I plan to finish it in August, too.

On Monday, I read 282 pages of The Boys Who Danced With The Moon and about 120 pages of The Way of Kings. In total, I read about 400 pages.

DAY 2: 31ST JULY 2018, TUESDAY. The second day didn't start on a such a productive note. I got up early, although I got almost zero sleep that day, getting on the train at 9am and heading on a 2 hour journey to visit my boyfriend.

On the train, I read a bit of The Way Of Kings, but nothing significant since I fell asleep quickly.

After I got some sleep at my boyfriends, I started Stalking Jack The Ripper, the book I decided for as my second challenge - to read a book about something you want to do. I wanted to read some mystery and something about serial killers, since they always fascinated me quite a bit. Nevertheless, I didn't read much of it since I was exhausted.

In total, I read about 120 pages of Stalking Jack The Ripper on Tuesday.

DAY 3: 1ST AUGUST 2018, WEDNESDAY. On Wednesday, I couldn't get myself to read too much. I wasn't feeling the book I started the day before - the writing style turned me off quite a bit and I was unimpressed by the characters, although I expected to like this book a lot more.

I forced myself to finish it by the evening, although my impressions didn't change much even when I dived deeper into the story.

You can find my review for Stalking Jack The Ripper here.

Overall, I read the last 206 pages of Stalking Jack The Ripper on Wednesday.

DAY 4: 2ND AUGUST 2018, THURSDAY. Thursday was one of my most productive days; I started and finished Eliza and Her Monsters, a book I chose for the fourth challenge, read a book with green on the cover. It was a beautiful contemporary novel that evoked all kinds of feelings in me, some that I didn't even know I had.

You can find my review for Eliza and Her Monsters here.

I also started Shadow And Bone, a book I chose for the sixth challenge, read a book with a beautiful spine, but I only managed to read 60 pages till midnight.

In total, I read

445 pages on Thursday, which was by far my most productive day of the week.

DAY 5: 3RD AUGUST 2018, FRIDAY. Friday was a fairly productive day - I had to head back home from my boyfriend, just another 2 hour train travel that I slept off, but I read quite a bit before it.

I finished Shadow And Bone, the book I started the day earlier. It wasn't amazing or breath taking, but I liked it quite a lot and found it to be quite a quick read.

You can find my review for Shadow And Bone here.

Overall, I read the last 356 pages of Shadow And Bone on Friday.

DAY 6: 4TH AUGUST 2018, SATURDAY. Saturday was a pretty chill day for me - I slept in for a bit, watched a few episodes of Steven Universe and drank a lot of tea. Nevertheless, I managed to start and finish Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie, a murder mystery that I didn't like as much as the other books I read by far this week. I chose it as the third challenge, read and watch a book to movie adaptation.

You can find my review for Murder on the Orient Express here.

As the challenge suggested, I took some time and watched the movie adaptation of the book that was released in 2017, and ended up liking it quite a lot, although it was a bit different from the book, and I would give it 4 out of 5 stars.

Overall, I read 274 pages of Murder on the Orient Express on Saturday.

DAY 7: 5TH AUGUST 2018, SUNDAY. Sunday was by far my most busy day of the week, as I had errands to run and a funeral to attend. I ended up leaving my house at 2pm and getting back around 10pm, but I still managed to start and finish The Wicked Deep, a book I decided on for the fifth challenge, read a book while wearing the same hat the whole time - which was, by far, the most difficult challenge for me this week, as I really don't like hats.

Nevertheless, I thought the book was really good and the athmosphere of it was beautiful.

You can find my review for The Wicked Deep here.

On the last day, I read 308 pages of The Wicked Deep.

OVERALL. I managed to complete six out of seven challenges in the week of BookTube-A-Thon. The book that I didn't even start but was on my TBR as the book for the seventh challenge, read seven books, was Kiss Her Goodbye by Susan Gee.

In total, I read 2109 pages and 6 out of 7 planned books, which I think is still quite impressive and I am very proud of myself. I can't wait for the next BookTube-A-Thon!

#booktubeathon #booktubeathon2018 #booklr #booklover #tulipsandbooks #the boys who danced with the moon #stalking jack the ripper #murder on the orient express #eliza and her monsters #the wicked deep #shadow and bone #kiss her goodbye #wrap up

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travelingtheusa · 5 years

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NEW YORK

14 Nov 2019 (Thu) – I was invited to participate in the Veteran’s Day ceremony on November 11th with the American Legion post. We went to two sites to perform a formal ceremony then held a public ceremony at the Veterans Park next to town hall. About 50 people showed up; mostly veterans. There was a young man from the high school who sang the National Anthem that had the most beautiful, angelic voice. After the ceremony, everyone was invited to the Post for hot dogs and hamburgers.

On Wednesday, November 13th, members of the Post were invited to the local schools. First, we went to the high school and participated in a panel. We each described our service experience but ran out of time for questions from the kids. The students all came in with jackets and back packs which made me think they were getting off the bus and immediately directed to the auditorium.

After an hour at the high school, we went to the Maud Sherwood elementary school. We were directed to the end of a long hallway while the students (grades 2 through 5) lined up along the walls. Then we walked down the hall with the kids clapping, waving flags, and giving us high fives. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. It was great! We had a continental breakfast (courtesy of the PTA), then we split up into groups of three (there were nine of us there), and we went into 5th grade classrooms to talk with the kids. They had prepared questions followed by freewheeling questions. Some were very insightful. The day was quite delightful.

Following the school, I went directly to Toast Coffeehouse in Patchogue to meet my sister, Susan, for lunch. The food in that place is awesome! We had a very pleasant visit and said our goodbyes. She invited me to stay with her when I come back to New York for a checkup.

At 6:00 p.m., we had Miranda, Kenny, and Caiden come over for a Thanksgiving dinner. Since we won’t be here on Thanksgiving Day, we took an opportunity to celebrate together early. The food and company were all very nice. Caiden is such a delightful little boy.

Today, I had a visit with the oncologist. I took a CT scan on Tuesday and this visit was to find out the results. It was great news! Many of the lymph nodes are half their size now. I am responding beautifully to the chemotherapy. The nurse did a nose swab because I said I thought I had something brewing. They wanted to make sure I don’t have the flu or pneumonia. The doctor then gave me three months before coming back for a checkup. Woohoo!!! We are cleared to hit the road!

9 Nov 2019 (Sat) – We took Caiden and a friend to an amusement area today. We wanted to take him to BounceU in Nesconset but when we arrived, they had birthday parties going on and no open play. So we drove another half hour to Huntington only to discover we were in the wrong town. After a total of about an hour’s driving time with two very impatient six years olds in the back seat, we arrived at @Play Adventures in Farmingdale. It was a delightful afternoon for the boys – three hours of bounces, rides, and games. Afterward, we stopped at McDonald’s for lunch. The boys had a great time.

Miranda’s best friend’s grandmother passed away. She had the funeral and lunch this morning (hence, we were watching Caiden). Later, she went back to the house for a memorial dinner with the family. I went back into the house to watch Caiden until she and Kenny got back home.

Yesterday, we went shopping at Kohl’s. They were advertising 30% discount for veterans. We spent too much money and it turned out that some items were not eligible for the discount. Apparently, the manufacturer tells the store they can’t discount their products. Somehow, that seems dishonest. Kohl’s advertises taking the discount but then doesn’t do it. We bought a new toaster oven with 11 functions (will I really ever use all of them?) that was advertised at $249.99. The clerk rang it up at $349.99 at the register. We had to go to customer service for the correction and it turned out we bought the Pro, with was $100 more. AND there was no 30% discount on it!!

6 November 2019 (Wed – Paul’s Birthday) – It’s been a busy week. We saw a lawyer to have our wills updated. She gave us homework to do – lol. It is hard to decide who your health care proxy and power of attorney should be. Doing a will is an eye-opening event. It makes you face your mortality. Ugh.

The American Legion post hosted their annual Law & Order dinner. They honored firemen, two harbormasters, and a police officer who pulled a car off the train tracks minutes before a train rolled through. One of the firemen was honored for 70 years of service as a volunteer fire fighter with Islip. It turned out that he was Paul’s cousin! He knew Paul’s mother in high school and served with Paul’s grandfather in the department (his grandfather was a fire chief). We exchanged information and promised to look each other up this winter when we are down in Florida.

I took my laptop to Best Buy for tweaking. The tech did not find any viruses. I saw a gastroenterologist on Monday and had a mammogram on Wednesday. I took Paul to the Irish Coffee Pub for his birthday. They make the very best potato soup anywhere.

31 October 2019 (Thu - HALLOWEEN) – I had lunch with my daughter, Gina, on Tuesday. We went to a place called Tula’s Kitchen. It’s one of those very eclectic health food restaurants that are popping up all over the country. The food was quite good. On Wednesday, I had lunch with my sister, Susan. We went to another eclectic place called Tiger Lily. Again, the food was very good.

We had Angel Fence Company come by and we signed a contract for a fence installation along the back of the property. This it to replace the fence that was damaged during the thunderstorm that rolled through in August. I sent the estimate to USAA and they already paid off on it – BEFORE we had the work done. I sent a note reminding them it was an estimate and it could wind up costing more depending on what they find when they do the actual installation.

I spent over two and half hours on the phone in the last two days with Carbonite. It is a cloud storage service where they back up our computer to the cloud. When my computer was reset, we lost the program. It would not reinstall properly and I had to get techs to work on the problem. Apparently, it wasn’t such an easy fix but they finally got it done.

Today, Paul and I went to the movies to see “The Current Wars.” It was about the competition among Nikola Tesla, George Westinghouse, and Thomas Edison. The movie was very interesting and we would highly recommend it.

27 October 2019 (Sun) – It was a busy week. I watched Lincoln two days this week so Sam could get some extra time in at work. He is such a pleasant baby. Always smiling. Travis started his new job on Wednesday. Hope it goes well for him. Also on Wednesday, we went to the ophthalmologist for eye exams. Paul and I both tested out at 20/25. The doctor saw some pressure behind my left eye and wants me back in six months. I’ll see if I can align an appointment with a Sloan Kettering checkup down the road.

We went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant with friends from the American Legion on Wednesday. Then we went to dinner at Carrabba’s on Friday with my brother, Dennis, and his lady, Denise. We had planned to meet them at their apartment before going to dinner but the plans changed. Dennis & Denise recently moved into their new place and we still want to see it.

We took Travis and the family to a pumpkin farm yesterday. It was a small farm but not very busy considering this is the last weekend before Halloween. They had a play area with bouncy houses and lots of pumpkins to choose from. There was also a hay ride and a pony taking kids for a ride.

We went to church this morning. It was laity Sunday so the service was run by the lay leader. Several of us took part in the service doing readings and leading prayer. I gave a five minute sermon. It was a nice service.

21 October 2019 (Mon) – I went to the audiologist at the Northport VA on the 18th. The doctor found a mild hearing loss in my right ear and a moderate hearing loss in my left ear. She said it was unusual to have a greater loss in one ear over the other and that I needed to see a doctor to be sure there was not a medical reason for the difference. She offered to make an appointment at the VA but said I probably wouldn’t get an appointment for two or three months. We agreed that I would go to a civilian doctor because I could get an appointment sooner. In the meantime, she would order one hearing aid for my left ear (she said I don’t need one for the right ear). She also gave me information to download an app for the hearing aid onto my iPhone.

I saw a civilian audiologist yesterday. He insisted on giving me another hearing test. The results were more symmetrical and he cleared me for the hearing aid. He suggested I get aids for both ears; the VA doctor refuses to do that. If I bought the hearing aids at the civilian audiology office, it would cost me $6,000. Actually, $3,000. My insurance would pay $3,000 toward the cost. If I got the hearing aids at the VA, it will cost me nothing. Guess what I’m doing?

Miranda and Kenny went to Philly for the weekend and we watched Caiden. We took him to Rise of the Jack O’Lanterns at Old Westbury Gardens on Friday. They carve 5,000 pumpkins every week for six weeks. Visitors walk down a trail lined with thousands of pumpkins on display along the walkway. Several pumpkins had projections that had them singing Halloween songs. The craftsmanship was simply amazing!

On Saturday, we went over to the American Legion Hall where we met Samantha and her mother, Sharon. Together, we set up tables and arranged everything for Lincoln’s baptism party the next day. On Sunday, Lincoln Alexander Thomas was baptized. Afterward, we enjoyed a party at the legion hall. Lincoln was SO good. He smiled and laughed all day and then just quietly went to sleep in my arms. Not one little tear or fuss escaped him all day.

16 October 2019 (Weds) – Another visit to the doctor brought mixed results. The bloodwork continues to show a decrease in the cancer cells. However, I am having some adverse effects from the chemo. I have a rash on my leg and a drying out of my fingertips. Neuropathy and cellulitis are common side effects. The doctor told me to stop the Imbruvica for 3 days. If the rash hasn’t improved, stay off the medication for 5 days. If there is still no improvement, I have to go back and have him treat me topically. I’ve been doing so well that I find this to be something of a disappointment. The rash has been getting better so that keeps me hopeful.

My birthday was on Monday (October 14) and Paul took me to the Texas Roadhouse for dinner. I took a picture with a margarita at an angle that made the drink look very large. We have kind of developed a reputation with the margaritas and now find we have to post pictures of these drinks. It’s kind of funny.

We are still waiting for the guy behind us to take down two trees that threaten our property. Three fence companies have given us quotes for a new fence but we won’t do anything until those trees are taken down. A good windstorm will blow them down and damage the new fence. We’ll have to go over there for a third time to ask them to take down those trees. I don’t want to get into sending registered letters threatening legal action like the insurance company is suggesting we do. Paul thinks the neighbor just can’t afford to pay for a tree removal. Hmmmm, what to do. What to do?

13 October 2019 (Sun) - We took Caiden to church with us today. Afterward, Paul worked with a crew to take apart a piano that needed to be thrown out. Jan has been advertising the piano for free to anyone but no one has claimed it so it was time to just throw it out. Caiden and I played in the nursery area until they were finished.

It was not a good day for me. I woke feeling exhausted and nauseous. At 3:00 p.m., Paul spelled me for an hour and I took a nap. That was probably one of the best naps I have ever had. I really needed that! After I woke, I made dinner then took Caiden into the house and gave him a bath.

On Friday, we went to an optometrist for eye exams. I got annoyed with the whole thing. The doctor was pushy and it seemed like his equipment was rigged so he could do more tests. You cover one eye, stare at a red spot, and click a switch every time you see a green light. Everything went fine with the left eye covered. But when he covered my right eye, I couldn’t really see the red spot. It was faded and disappeared a lot so I just looked around and clicked on the green lights. When the doctor came back to the room, I said he couldn’t trust the test because I couldn’t see the red light. He told me not to worry about it. That didn’t seem right at all. When I checked with Paul about his test, he had the same experience. We said we would wait on glasses and left. We won’t go back to him. I made an appointment with an ophthalmologist.

10 October 2019 (Thu) – Paul got the heater fixed. That’s good because the weather has been cool – in the 40s at night.

I had an appointment at the VA today. It is basically a perfunctory checkup. The doctor knows I am being treated at Sloan Kettering and really just want a backup with the VA in the event I have trouble getting my medication. She is a very pleasant doctor and completely understands my motivations. She did make an appointment for me to see someone in dermatology. I have a small spot on my bottom lip that I thought was chapped lips. But it has been there a couple of months and now has started to change color. My sister was just diagnosed with skin cancer and that made me think I should probably get my lip checked out.

After the VA, I met my sister, Susan, and her daughter, Shay, for lunch at Tula Kitchen. It is an eclectic restaurant with vegetarian dishes that are very different. Susan, her husband, Bill, Shay and her boyfriend, Pat, just returned from a trip to Scandinavia. Susan’s friend, Ronnie, passed away and left Susan and Bill to handle his affairs. Ronnie’s body was cremated and they took the ashes to Sweden where Ronnie was born. After Sweden, they went to Norway and Iceland. It was a great trip.

Travis lost his job. He has had such rotten luck with work. Hope he finds a new one quickly. They are in the middle of having their mortgage modified and this will certainly have an impact. Lincoln will be baptized on October 20. I coordinated with the American Legion Post to have a party there after the christening. The commander initially told me I had to pay $300. When I told him commanders (past and present) were allowed one free rental a year and a second at half price when I was commander, he relented and will let us use the hall at no charge. That was very nice of him. We coordinated times to open the building.

8 October 2019 (Tue) – We took Caiden to church with us on Sunday. It was a pretty busy day with him. His father worked from 10 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. I gave Caiden his bath, read his books, and sang some songs. He didn’t want to eat steak for dinner. When I told him that was it for the night. He didn’t have to eat it but there wouldn’t be anything else. We then went about eating and quietly watched while he ate his steak and a piece of potato. It was amusing to watch the quiet surrender.

Kenny was home on Monday so we did not watch Caiden but we did have them come in for dinner. We had burgers, fries, and corn. Caiden ate about half his burger, some fries, and made a token effort at the corn then was done. I gave him chocolate ice cream for dessert. That sure pumped him up! The sugar rush kept him running back and forth for an hour.

Today, Kenny worked from 10 to 4. Paul and I ran some errands. I picked Kenny up at 4:15 and Paul got Caiden from the bus. At 5 p.m., Paul and I went down to the church to help clean up after the yard sale. There were several pieces of furniture (desks, dressers, couches, loveseats) left over that we had to break up and put in the dumpster. Several of us turned out for the job and it took just over an hour to get it all done.

5 October 2019 (Sat) – We returned to New York on September 30 from the SMART National Muster in Urbanna, VA. We stopped two nights in Washington, D.C. staying on Joint Base Andrews AFB. The campground certainly could use some TLC. Everything is run down and looking worn. It seems weird that they would let it look like that since the President’s plane is kept there. You’d think since it was a flagship airfield that they would keep it up better. Paul thinks the only reason Andrews AFB is kept open is because it’s close to D.C.

Well, I goofed big time. I was trying to update our travel journal and I got an error message from the computer. I inadvertently clicked on a RESET button and the computer reset itself back to its default mode. All the programs and apps that we have loaded on the computer since we bought it six years ago were wiped off. The version of Word that I have using (Word 2010) was removed and a docx file replaced it. That updated version would not open the older version. Ugh. Poor Paul has spent hours reloading all those lost programs. At least when the computer reset itself, it made a list of all those programs that were removed. There is a list to follow in reestablishing the programs.

Miranda is in Maine this week. We have been driving Kenny back and forth to work and watching Caiden in between work and school. He is a very energetic little boy!

The church had a yard sale yesterday. The weather was beautiful and there were yard sales all over town. I drove down Brook Street (a small back street that cuts between two main roads) and there were four yard sales on that street alone. It was a long day. We went down to the church at 8 am and helped set up, then helped with the fair all day until it ended at 3 pm. I picked Caiden up at noon and he enjoyed visiting at the fair. At the end of the fair, all the stuff that didn’t sell went into the dumpster. It was awful! We were throwing new or barely used items away – CDs, DVDs, glassware, toys, games, electronics, furniture, everything! It all went into the garbage. It sure seemed like all that stuff could have gone somewhere. Oh, well.

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eathealthylivefree · 4 years

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Saying Goodbye in the Midst of COVID-19 Pandemic

Through a window, via Facetime and a cell phone — that is how people are saying goodbye during the COVID-19 pandemic. We know, we experienced this last week. Two of us experienced this with a death of a family member within 24 hours of each other. One death from COVID-19 and another from natural causes, yet the final goodbyes were said without physical touch or personal intimacy with the families.

Susan’s Story The last day of March 2020 ended with many tears. I received word that my Aunt Patty had died from complications of COVID-19. She was an active and healthy woman with a life-long passion for learning. She made history by becoming the first lay female Catholic Chaplain assigned to a U.S. Military Hospital.

Patty was in the hospital for two days prior to her death. No visitors were allowed to see her. When Patty took a turn for the worse in the middle of the night, her daughter was awoken to a phone call saying her mother was dying, but she would not be permitted to be in the room with her because of the danger of the disease spreading.

The family requested a priest be present to perform the Last Rites. This is usually done face to face with the priest anointing the sick. However, the priest was barred from being in the same room with Patty. He performed this religious sacrament over an intercom while the nurse held Patty’s hand. Patty’s daughter said her goodbye to her mother and a final “I love you” over the phone. Those were her last moments with her mother. A funeral is currently not possible because of the government’s limit on 10 people or less being together. The family is planning a traditional funeral mass to be celebrated in four to six months from now.

Shannon’s Story On April 1,2020, I never imagined that I would have to say goodbye to my Baba (the name some Russian grandchildren call their grandma) through a FaceTime chat with my sister. Ohio had a “Stay at Home” order in place, and traveling to New York was out of the question.

Not long after, I found out that the facility actually was not allowing anyone in the room. This was the opposite of what I had expected. I had always envisioned grandma’s family surrounding her, playing games, and talking, as we held her hand, being next to her.

However, due to this awful COVID-19 pandemic and social distancing requirements, that was not possible. Baba lived on the first floor of a nursing home. Her children, as well as grandchildren were able to send their love and communication with her only through her window.

My sister said, “I taught her how to say ‘I love you’ through her glass window. So that’s what we did. We smiled, we cried, we said we love each other, and we blew kisses. All through a glass window. I would have risked getting what she had.. Just to have been there with her while she passed. To have held her hand, to have told her it’s okay, you’ve been strong all your life.”

The night before our grandma passed, my sister called me. She was outside of Baba’s window in the rain and cold, face pressed against the glass, looking at her grandma. My sister only had a sweatshirt on, but refused to leave the window. She told me that nobody should have to die alone.

The hardest thing for my family was to walk away from that window, knowing it was the last time any of us would ever see our Baba alive. I cried because I couldn’t be there physically and hold her had. I wanted to tell her one last time I love her. Later that night, my mom had called to let me know that Baba had passed.

Through the FaceTime chat with my sister, I could see Baba periodically glance up, and gently smile at my sister.

My sister said, “It got to the point where there were no more times she looked over. There were no more times she opened her eyes.” My sister didn’t want her grandma to wake up and see she was alone.

A burial for Baba was held two days after she passed. Only 6 people were able to attend, all practicing social distancing. It was unusual for my close-knit family not to be able to give hugs to one another during this very emotional time. For me, not being able to attend her burial was very difficult. My mom and sister called me after the burial, and we grieved together over the phone.

Authors: Susan Zies, Extension Educator, Family and Consumer Sciences, Ohio State University Extension, Wood County and Shannon Smith, MFN, RD, LD, CDCES, Ohio State University, Wood County

Reviewer: Jami Dellifield, Extension Educator, Family and Consumer Sciences, Ohio State University Extension, Hardin County

Photo Credits: Photos taken by Shannon Smith and Kristy Smith

References:

https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/index.html

https://mhanational.org/covid19

https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2020/04/07/828317535/coronavirus-is-changing-the-rituals-of-death-for-many-religions

https://livehealthyosu.com/2019/09/30/healthy-brain-aging/

https://www.cdc.gov/coronavirus/2019-ncov/daily-life-coping/managing-stress-anxiety.html?CDC_AA_refVal=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.cdc.gov%2Fcoronavirus%2F2019-ncov%2Fprepare%2Fmanaging-stress-anxiety.html

https://content.govdelivery.com/attachments/OHOOD/2020/04/02/file_attachments/1418062/Signed%20Amended%20Director%27s%20Stay%20At%20Home%20Order.pdf

https://www.thenationalcouncil.org/covid19/

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/love-and-sex-in-the-digital-age/202003/covid-19-and-the-grief-process

from Live Healthy Live Well https://ift.tt/2UVKTeF

#Live Healthy Live Well

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haoneidob · 4 years

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hiring killers for "noah" my ex

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