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jlhnews · 2 years

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Psychiatrist Blows the Whistle on Pandemic Fearmongering

This article was previously published November 15, 2020, and has been updated with new information. Dr. Peter Breggin, a psychiatrist, has written more than a dozen best-selling books on psychiatry and the drug industry. He's frequently referred to as "the conscience of psychiatry" because he was able to successfully reform the psychiatric profession, abolishing lobotomies and other harmful experimental psychosurgeries. During the pandemic, he homed in on COVID-19 and the fears around it, which is the topic of this interview. He also started researching the history of Dr. Anthony Fauci, who has been the face of the White House Coronavirus Task Force, and learned more than he bargained for in the process. "He just looked like this kindly gentleman, until I started to listen to what he was saying and to look into what he was doing," Breggin says. "In early April, Ginger brought this scientific article to me and said, 'Honey, this looks like it's impossible, it's fake or something.' It was a 2015 article by a big team from North Carolina Ralph Baric,1 He's the final author on it and the power behind it, although the lead author is Vineet D. Menachery.2 This article is talking about making a coronavirus that's going to be a new epidemic agent. They're talking about it. They've actually accomplished it — and it's a SARS coronavirus. It's a virus that will infect the lungs that comes from bats … And they're checking it out and they find that it will infect human lung epithelium. They give it to mice and the older mice are getting very sick and ones that are compromised die. It sounds … the precursor of SARS-CoV-2. They even tried, by the way, to make a vaccine for it and they couldn't. And I'm thinking, 'My God, what's going on here?' And then I look down the line of all these authors. There are Chinese names there … and they list themselves as being from the Wuhan Institute of Virology. And then I look who's funding it. Well, China is funding it. And Fauci is funding it from the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases. I'm thinking to myself, 'My God, we're giving the Chinese a biomedical weapon' … turn out to be two of the very, very top Chinese people in this, what is essentially a military lab. The Wuhan Institute, nothing like that is anything but military in China."

What Is Fauci's Role in the Bio-Assault on the World?

Breggin claims he was able to share the information with someone close to President Trump, and three days after sharing this finding, the president canceled the U.S.-Chinese research collaboration that was working on coronavirus gain-of-function research. However, Fauci quickly took hold of the American research efforts and in October 2020 injected additional funding. Some of that funding will surely still end up in China, Breggin says, by way of the EcoHealth Alliance, which for years has subcontracted research work to the Wuhan Institute. Fauci also gave additional money to the University of Texas. Breggin explains: "In Galveston, there is a Level 4 biosafety lab that can work with the most dangerous viruses. So, I decided to look into this. It's not great magic to it, you have to use some search engines like DuckDuckGo. I 'China' and 'the Galveston Institute,' and I got … a press release ... bragging about their relationships with the Wuhan Institute, working on viruses. So, no wonder he's sending them money. I start digging deeper and I come across a letter from the education department to the University of Texas, saying they've not been forthcoming about their connections to China and the Communist Party (CCP), and in particular from the institute in Galveston. So, I'm looking at this network of connections with China. They list them all. We have a blog out about that too now. And I realized there's nothing stopping Fauci. Absolutely nothing is stopping him. He is going to carry on his assault on the world. And Fauci knew that the Wuhan Institute was unsafe." Breggin delves into some of the backstory that helps explain what's been happening. In 2014, then-President Obama called for a moratorium on gain-of-function research in the U.S. He did not, however, mention collaborations with the CCP. To get around Obama's moratorium, Fauci outsourced the gain-of-function research to the Wuhan Institute. Indeed, a series of email exchanges between Jinping Chen of Guangdong Entomological Institute — who was working in collaboration with EcoHealth Alliance — surfaced after Judicial Watch successfully sued for records under the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) in July 2021.3 In those emails, Dr. James LeDuc, head of the NIH-funded biosecurity lab at the University of Texas in Galveston, was outed: "Leduc told Chen that he had been working on an initiative to 'form long-term scientific and technical collaborations with the new BSL4 laboratory' in Wuhan, under the direction of Dr. Yuan Zhiming, with whom Leduc had met "repeatedly," Judicial Watch reports. And, Leduc adds, 'we are already attempting to build the kind of partnership that I think is envisioned under the GHSA .'" Seeing that the same Judicial Watch report shows that Fauci's National Institute for Allergies and Infectious Diseases funded 490 out of 2,221 grants awarded to Chinese Collaborators between 2010 and 2018, based on the evidence, Fauci appears to play an important role in the global takeover by technocrats. Technocracy is an economic system in which the world is ruled not by democratically elected politicians but by technocrats — a conglomerate of ultra-wealthy elites, scientists and technicians whose aim is to rule the global population and the allocation of resources through the use of technology.

Fear Is the Tool of Tyrants

Breggin was asked to be the medical legal expert in a lawsuit to put a stop to the never-ending emergency edict by the governor of Ohio. In his medical legal brief,4 Breggin detailed why shutdowns aren't working, and the harm they inflict on the population. This lawsuit has also stirred up other anti-lockdown projects around the U.S. You can find more information about all of this on Breggin.com. It's important to recognize that the primary tool that enables local and state leaders to implement unconstitutional mandates such as universal mask wearing, business shut-downs and draconian stay-at-home orders is fear. Unless people are terrified, they won't agree to such freedom-robbing edicts. This is a well-known fact, and as noted by Breggin, there's an entire school of research within public health on how to frighten people, known as "fear appeal." "What an odd name: Fear appeal. It's a euphemism for scaring people to death. That's how you 'appeal' to them. And it's a very long standing . The particular article studied together made several points. It said, first, you have to not only create something or have something that people are afraid of in order to get your public health measures imposed, but you have to make it personal to them, you have to make them afraid personally. Then you have to give them something immediate to do to begin cooperating with the plans that you have. We have many examples of that. Things to immediately do : Don't leave the house; wear a mask; stay 6 feet apart; start closing down businesses and so on. Don't let your kids go to school and on and on … That got me into looking more deeply at the whole question of public health. And public health, sad to say, is essentially a totalitarian model. It does not raise issues of collateral damage, it doesn't raise issues of the Bill of Rights, the constitution, of liberty, the right to people to die with their boots on, the American tradition of individuals and their own communities making decisions. There is no such concept. It starts with the assumption that what public health officials think is true and must be applied regardless of the context. And we see this with this globalism. It doesn't matter whether you're working in Africa or in Communist China, North Vietnam or America, these are the principles, they're about politics above everything. It's quite astounding. So, became something that was perfectly usable by the most extreme totalitarianism … At the top is extraordinarily wealthy and powerful people and organizations. I see it as a kind of a cooperative but competing group that welcomed Communist China, which shows how little these people — like Fauci and the World Bank and our governments in the Western world — worry about anything except wealth and power. Once they invited Communist China into this circle, China became a big, big player along these world predators and let each other be. Until Trump came along, no major figure stood up and said, 'No, no, we're going to go back to the .'"

The Psychology of Learned Helplessness

Fear is undoubtedly one of the most powerful motivating emotions for individuals, and the single most powerful intervention capable of controlling an entire population. It's certainly hard to miss that fear has been used to control the masses during the COVID-19 pandemic. By adding confusion to the mix, you can bring an individual from fear to anxiety, a state of confusion in which you cannot think straight anymore. Governments now have access to incredibly sophisticated technologies, including artificial intelligence and machine learning, which is being used for all it's worth to push this fear propaganda. The end goal is to push us into a state of helplessness, so that they can come in and "rescue" us. For decades, Breggin has studied learned helplessness and its remedies. "When we're born, we're fundamentally helpless. All we can do to be taken care of is to express pain, we can cry, we can wiggle, we can express suffering. But we have no ability to take control of the environment other than by hopefully attracting our caregivers that cuddle us or look for a thorn in the side or whatever. And that remains an aspect of humanity. That never leaves us. All of us can at some point be made to feel helpless again. And when we feel helpless, we become like the infant. We feel we have to be saved, basically. We look to other people, we look to drugs, alcohol, we look to authoritarian religions, we look to leaders of all kinds."

From Fear to Anxiety to Desperation

As explained by Breggin, by adding confusion to the mix, you can bring an individual from fear to anxiety, a state of confusion in which you cannot think straight anymore. One of the characteristics of a panic attack or an anxiety attack is the loss of the ability to think. You become helpless and confused. Eventually, desperation sets in, at which point people are willing to do just about anything to get relief. "So this, folks, is a web of fear," Breggin says. "It's all about scaring us, confusing us, making us helpless. I recently wrote a chapter that I may or may not put it in the book about my 85 years of looking at fear, because I was alive during World War II. I went down to the beach when I was 4 or 5 years old and would find remnants of our sailors' life rafts where they sunk right off the water's edge. We were afraid of bombs called blockbusters, we hid under the tables and chairs and whatever we could find in school desks for fear of blockbusters. I went through the horrors of the polio . My closest friend died of polio two days after I was wrestling with him. I know fear, I know epidemics … the Vietnam War … 9/11. And never until Fauci … have I seen leaders say 'Be afraid.' I couldn't believe it when they found a comment made in private by Trump that he wanted to reassure and not scare the people. That was his supposed villainousness — not wanting to scare people. That's what Roosevelt did, that's what every single person has done in great moments of crisis — they have said 'Let us not be afraid,' because we all know that a country that is unafraid and is doing as much of its normal activity as possible, is the strongest possible country. That's an actual public health principle — that we function best when we are living a normal life, unafraid, and we have ideals and goals like American liberty and freedom to strive for."

The Biology of Fear

So, just what happens in your body when you experience fear? Importantly, it "quite literally scrambles our brains," Breggin says. The good news is you have the power to control your mind and to calm down. The bad news is you don't think you have any control over your mind. "Anxiety overwhelms us, it makes us stupid, it makes us desperately want somebody to take over. But what we need is somebody who says you don't have anything to fear, the anxiety won't kill you; will calm you down and tell you everything's going to be fine, you don't have to be helpless. But we are getting the exact opposite message from Biden and Fauci … The pharmaceutical industry and the very wealthy need this fear because they're making a fortune on this fear … getting all their drugs and vaccines ready."

The Antidotes to Corruption Are Reason, Love and Liberty

Realizing the depth of the scientific corruption was part of why Breggin and his wife, Ginger, decided to take on this whole new field of investigation. "We knew we had the research expertise and the scientific expertise. And I've got so many published books and scientific articles that I don't think anybody can doubt I'm a researcher and a scientist," he says. "It was so mind-blowing to see the degree of corruption. I actually imagined standing in front of God, explaining why I didn't do anything. That didn't fly very well. I think the best antidote to looking at all this corruption is, first of all, to know this world has always been a corrupt place … So, we need to learn to keep our own free will intact, and to love. We need reason and love. We can reason, we can love and respect the liberty of other people. Those are my three key words in life: Reason, love and liberty … You want to overcome your helplessness, do that with reason."

What's at Stake

Educating and supporting others are other strategies that can be helpful. Investigate things for yourself, and then share what you've learned with others. The way out of helplessness is to be of service to others, to contribute in some way. As noted by Breggin: "We need to buckle up at this point and really see ourselves as an example of succeeding in the face of all this, and to spread it however far and wide we can … We weren't promised an easy life. There's just no place that I know of that is a mammoth promise of an easy life. Life is difficult. Right now, I think the single most important thing is not the virus, it's saving freedom in America. One of the things I want to say to the progressive folks — and for a good chunk of my life, I was a very strong progressive — most of you are idealists, most of you would like to see the improvement of mankind. But that is not what's going on in the world right now … It is not about being a conservative, it is not about being a progressive. We are dealing with international predators that are just as happy to work with Iran, or North Korea, or North Vietnam or China. They are only interested in wealth and power. They have no real deep commitment to progressivism or capitalism. And … they haven't got the slightest interest in free enterprise. Bill Gates is not a figure of free enterprise. You got to get this straight. These people are not for liberty. This entire powerful international movement that I'm calling predatory globalists are motivated by wealth and power. They have reached the pinnacles of power, which are always corrupting. Bill Gates has three people on his board of trustees: Himself, his wife and Warren Buffett — the No. 2 and No. 4 wealthiest people in the world. This is power beyond imagination. They are not wedded to anything except power and wealth. Wealth is a way to and they're using technocrats to do this."

More Information

I agree with Breggin that the most important thing right now is to recognize that what we're facing is an acute challenge to our society, our culture, that must be faced head-on. We need to aid our fellow human beings as best as we can with information, knowledge, that the conventional mainstream media is not telling them. In fact, mainstream media are a significant part of the problem, because they're being used as a tool to implement the technocrats' agenda. For this reason, it has become imperative to seek out other channels of information, most of which are becoming progressively more censored and harder to find. To stay on top of Breggin's investigations, be sure to sign up for newsletter alerts on his website, breggin.com. He also has a radio and TV show that airs once a week. On his website, you'll also find links to Breggin's report5 on Fauci's CCP connections, titled "Dr. Fauci's COVID-19 Treachery," and his legal report,6 "COVID-19 & Public Health Totalitarianism: Untoward Effects on Individuals, Institutions and Society." Source link Read the full article

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96thdayofrage · 3 years

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As much of White America scrambled to not be the bad guy, the holiday commemorating the last vestiges of legalized slavery came right on time. At the height of protest season, here was an opportunity that seemed primed to absolve America of a piece of its slavery-addled past by embracing the true and final date of full emancipation. News stories gave remedial history lessons in advance of the June 19 celebration, and makeshift festivals sprung up despite having to make numerous pandemic concessions. And then there were the T-shirts.

A year later, not much has changed about the state of Black America. More people are aware of modern activist lingo, so we’re having the same old arguments with more up-to-date language, but the needle hasn’t moved much on any given condition. In fact, the backlash against more education on Black history has largely fallen into two categories for much of White America: doubling down on its erasure, or commodifying it. Magically, the lead-up to the 2021 edition of Juneteenth seems to have done both in equal measure.

The erasure of Juneteenth has been the campaign of choice until last year. You could live almost anywhere in Texas outside of Galveston (where the holiday was born, in 1865) and have never heard of it. Thanks to the spike in activism and White guilt last year, the ignorance platform took a big hit. But since this is America, commodification stepped in like a champ. Businesses have taken the opportunity that Juneteenth affords to present themselves as progressive on race issues, though most don’t just make it a proper day-off kind of holiday. Retail-minded entities have taken the commodification to heart and silk-screened the day onto cotton tops. All commodification isn’t about money, and so festivals all over the country in various states of organization are back on deck, fueled by people seeking to extinguish post-quarantine fatigue and kick off a proper Black-folks summer.

Depending on how and why one celebrates Juneteenth determines how far they lean into the observation over party aspect. For a holiday whose commemorations range from stoic reverence to being called the Black Fourth of July (complete with the requisite fireworks and cookout spreads), there’s a pretty wide spectrum of practice. Many Juneteenth celebrations are less about the end of slavery and more about what has happened to Black people, period, making such affairs just miniature Black History Months.

I asked a friend of mine, Valerie Boyer, a crowned former Miss Juneteenth raised in Galveston, what she thought should happen at a Juneteenth celebration. “I believe that the Emancipation Proclamation should formally be read to begin Juneteenth,” she replied. As an event organizer, this made sense to me, but as someone who used to do workshops breaking down how Lincoln’s order didn’t actually free all of the slaves, I had reservations. She assured me there was a lot of spiritual meat and affirmation in an intentional reading of the document in a context that only Juneteenth can provide.

“When it gets to that ‘whereby henceforth both now shall be and forever remain free,’ folks get weepy. And some folks holler, and some folks just cry, and some folks just don’t know what to do with themselves,” she continued. “I argue that that was my first experience with what we would call today ‘ancestral generation.’ You’re just very clear that you are not there alone.” She also stated that there should be dancing, singing, and food, which means we might be related, and impressed the importance of moments of both joy and stillness throughout.

One of the reasons many of the problems in America persist is that most people don’t have a good grasp on the scale of America itself. When you can’t see the size of the problem, you can’t comprehend the ramifications of allowing that problem to fester. Rather than contend with the legacy of slavery, America has opted for poor navigation. The legend of Juneteenth suggests that America was so vast that news took years to get across it, which is a patently ridiculous notion. As my former Miss Juneteenth friend likes to say, Black folks have always had a rumor mill. News travels fast, whether you like it or not.

In 1860, the Pony Express started delivering mail between Missouri and California. In the year-plus that followed, you could send word between the two states in as little as 10 days. That was two years before the execution of the Emancipation Proclamation. Bottom line: It doesn’t take two years to send an executive order from one end of the country to the halfway mark. There was a lot of collusion at play that prevented word from getting to Galveston in 1865, a denial of change, and thus an erasure of justice.

That is the reality of Juneteenth that we come close to addressing but fall back on the freedom part when the conversation gets too real. The end of slavery could not make it halfway across America’s body for two years, not because the message was slow, but because the message was stopped. We do not have Juneteenth because America doesn’t know how to deliver mail. We have it because parts of America thought if they ground their heels into the dirt, they could stop change. What happened on January 6, 2021, at the U.S. Capitol isn’t a new strategy. It has a lot of precedent, and Juneteenth is evidence of it.

As of this writing, the Senate has passed a bill declaring Juneteenth a federal holiday. It still has to pass through the House before we can start singing the Schoolhouse Rock song about bills. But let’s be clear: There’s a reason why that measure is sailing through Congress and the anti-lynching and reparation bills are stalled out. The Juneteenth bill is the one White folks can (falsely) claim they got right with the least amount of historical baggage. Juneteenth ends slavery. The others just make White people look bad.

There’s a standing criticism from a segment of activist circles that questions the point of Juneteenth. In pointing out the many ways in which liberty still doesn’t fully apply to Black life, such critics suggest that we still aren’t free at all. While I wouldn’t make a strong case against such observations, I’ve never allowed myself to be so militant that I couldn’t recognize a win when I saw one. I may celebrate only for a day or a news cycle or a breath, but to never be able to hold up the resilience of your ancestors is to disrespect them. I may be a pessimist, but I am never dishonorable. We are free with an asterisk. Considering what we’ve come through, that’s worth at least a day off. Ultimately, I care less about what people do to Juneteenth so long as the people and places that know what it’s really about — and those who have bonded with the power and implications of that history — are celebrating it, and unapologetically so.

It’s impossible to keep anything pure in America, even our pains. Of course your job is going to blow it even if they try to celebrate it right. Of course White America will hold up its federalization as evidence that the country is less racist. And yes, someone is going to make a commemorative plate out of it. The selling of Juneteenth is a horse already out of the barn, because commerce is often the balm America uses to soothe its conscience. The question isn’t ever about what the wrong people do with our history and celebrations, but what the right people do with them.

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gongju-juice · 4 years

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5. Once Upon a Southern Night

Crescent City

Warnings: Mentions of slavery and Confederacy

New Orleans. Hot and humid as home. Sister city to Mobile. Walking down the steamy streets, it smelled like spicy seasoning and margaritas—sounded like jazz beats and rushing crowds.

This year, Ash Wednesday fell incredibly late; March 10 to be exact. You never thought you would find yourself stumbling through New Orleans in the middle of Fat Tuesday—half-naked dancers screaming at your boyfriend from parade floats and indiscreet tourists flashing themselves as your family walked by. It was the most humiliating experience you ever felt, and all you could do is curse the Lost Cause soldiers who started the damn holiday in your home city in the first place.

The hospital was located smack in the middle of the old French Quarter where colonial buildings towered above the people, decorated in royal colored beads and winding lights. Nobody could drive the car through the crowd, so you had to get there by walking. You held your mom’s hand with your left, Jasper’s hand with your right.

“It’s never like this at home,” you explained to Jasper with a nervous laugh. “Did you know that the New Orleans mayor has to get permission from Mobile’s mayor every year to practice Mardi Gras?”

He looked down at you with his burning eyes. Since becoming aware of your family’s secret, he’d hardened himself to this emotionless being whose only concern was your safety. You were not allowed to leave his side, and when you had to go to the bathroom, he stood right outside the door like some long lost puppy.

“Something tells me they wouldn’t care whether or not they got permission anyway,” Emmett cackled. “New Orleans is wild.”

“Yeah, and you keep your eyes on the ground, sir,” Rosalie said, punching the side of his arm. The reverberating echo sounded like cracking glass.

The hospital was in very good shape on the outside despite being closed indefinitely for the past seventeen years. According to your mom, immediately after you were born, the place had been completely shut down and abandoned.

There were pictures of all kinds of historic events hung in antique gold frames on the walls: naval ships on fire at the Battle of Galveston, slaves picking fresh cotton on a South Carolinian plantation, Jefferson Davis’s inauguration in Montgomery, Alabama.

And in the middle of the lobby were a series of three grand portraits of Texas Majors. And at the end: Jasper Whitlock, Houston native, (1845-1863), died during a surprise Union attack in an evacuation order. There he was in his fine uniform, a cowboy hat over his honey curls. He looked so recognizable. . .so familiar in those white gloves—

He touched your side, and you looked around. The others were gone from sight, but you knew they could still hear everything where you were.

“If I could go back in time, if I could start all over again, I would do so in a heartbeat. I’m not proud of my past, Y/N. Not when I was human, nor when I changed. And I. . .I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness but I—”

There was venom glistening in his eyes. Vampires couldn’t cry. It was one of the things Rosalie said she missed most about being a human. But looking at Jasper now, he looked like he was on the very verge of doing the possible. He fell to his knees.

“I’m so sorry for it all. I’m so sorry for what I did. I never. . .I never did some of the things my comrades did, but that doesn’t make me any less guilty. I still killed people. I killed people for the wrong reason, Y/N. I was a monster, and I can never wipe that blood off my ledger.”

You cradled his face in your hands. “We all have our past, Jas. You might’ve made mistakes, you might’ve done bad things, but you’re not the same person you used to be. It was a different time and era, and frankly, you growing from what you’ve suffered and experienced makes me love you even more.”

“But I was evil. There was evil in my heart, and I thought I was doing right. I convinced myself I was fighting for my neighbors—for my way of life. But the truth is, that way of life was wrong. Whether it was enslaving African Americans or newborns, I still felt all of their pain. It was so much, so much death and heartache,” he insisted, holding on to your wrists like they were the only thing they could hold him upright. “And I’m not worthy to be your man.”

“You damn right, you aren’t,” a feminine voice snapped behind you.

You turned around to face a black woman, just about her early twenties, menacing at Jasper by your side. She had a thick, kinky head of natural textured hair, and she was very well built—like she could run a marathon and beat everyone in the race. And her eyes were a mesmerizing shade of hazel that stood out against her skin.

“Who—who are you?” you asked, your voice trembling and barely above a whisper. The Cullens appeared from the shadows, surprised and slightly on edge that someone was in the hospital that they did not know about.

“My name used to be Ava Lafayette,” she explained, glancing you up down like you were nothing more than a roach. “We used to be—we are sisters.”

“How do I? I feel like we’ve met before.” Jasper touched his head, his fingernails digging into his skin like he was in severe pain. You hugged his waist, trying to comfort him but there wasn’t much you could do for the ailment of a vampire. Carlisle held him upright with his steady hands.

“That’s because we have, Major. You had a mission to gather all male, able-bodied volunteers from Mobile when you stumbled across the Lafayette plantation. I was a house slave of that household, of Preston Lafayette Sr.’s household. And he is also my father.”

You reeled back in horror. “So. . .does that mean? Preston Lafayette II is my brother???!”

She shook her head. “Nope, not this time. He’s my brother. Your father’s name was James. He was a full-blooded slave who lived on a neighboring plantation about thirty miles north.”

“But how is this possible?” your mother demanded, holding your arm. “She was born right here seventeen years ago. My husband and I adopted her. She was a baby!”

Ava glared at her, her eyes brightening inhumanely blue. “How are you skeletons still standing and breathing? It’s the work of the witches. The rule of supernatural order. Except in this case, Y/N is an exception.”

“. . .What?”

Ava suddenly waved her hand, and the air around you transformed into a place that was not the hospital. You were in the middle of a hot, blazing field, there were little black children running around carrying cracked buckets of water. Horses whinnied at the swarming flies, and poorly abused men and women sang in the fields.

“Massah completely forgot about Mama after I was born. About six years later when she had enough cloth to make her own wedding dress, she and James jumped the broom. You were born a couple of months later, right around the time Preston Jr. himself was born.

The two of you were inseparable. You played in the fields together when you weren’t in the Big House secretly learning lessons with Missus. He taught you how to ride his horse, Midnight, and you showed him how to gather berries by the river where the girls washed the laundry.

The two of you fell in love, and although you’d gotten much too old to be running around, Preston loved you to pieces. He begged Massah to let you in the house with all the fair-skinned servants. So, Massah took it one step further. He gave you to him for his nineteenth birthday.

The night of the party, however, Major Whitlock and some of his men came riding up to the front steps. They invited him in for dinner, and Preston had no choice but to join since his father was much too old to serve and he had no other male siblings.

He had to leave you behind, but not before finding out you were expecting’. It wasn’t uncommon for those kinds of things to happen back then, but it was still big news. Preston was devastated. He never believed in slavery anyhow, but he was afraid Missus would sell you if she knew about the baby. He was supposed to be getting married to Miss Abigail Mae Shepherd, and it would not be good news to hear about a half-negro baby in the plantation.

Unfortunately, Preston was right. While he was gone, Mama was furious. Missus had made arrangements for you to be sold up to a whore house in Charleston the next week. But see the thing about Mama—she was no ordinary slave. She was a witch who’d given up her magic in order to be with a human, James.

She sought help from her friends, but they would not help her. So, with no other choice, she decided to cast the forbidden spell.

She ignored the laws of time, erased your memories, and de-aged you in order to send you to the year (----), when you were ‘born.’ This hospital was never real, just an illusion that came with the spell. She intended for some human to adopt you so you could grow up as a normal child in the 21st century, but instead you were adopted by a white vampire.”

The illusion melted away, and once again you were in the dusty hospital.

“You don’t know the pain and suffering I went through while you were enjoying the amenities of the future. Mama, after breaking the most sacred forbidden spell of the witches, was sentenced to death by all of the North American clans. They allowed Missus to have her hanged, and then she turned her rage onto me.

I eventually ran to New Orleans to escape the Lafayettes and find the truth of our supernatural background. There, the witches accepted me, albeit begrudgingly, and taught me how to use my power. I knew I’d eventually find you, one year or another, but I didn’t expect it would take nearly two centuries to do so.”

Your heart was broken. Your whole life—as tragic as it was—was built with that man who was chasing after you now. He was the father to your unborn child, the child that would never be born. You’d grown up together, known each other inside and out. But you’d completely forgotten him and now he was coming back—and for what reason?

“So. . .witches. . .are they immortal?” Carlisle asked.

“Precisely—if they choose to enable their powers and stay that way. Only a witch can kill a witch. We witches created the first vampires in the world as a part of our Goddess’s order. The werewolves and shapeshifters and La Push were created some time before that as well.”

“But why is Preston trying to come for Y/N? I thought you said he was against slavery? If he really loves her, why didn’t he just tell her the whole truth in the first place?” Your mom demanded.

Ava's eyes turned back hazel, and a chair appeared behind her. “Because he wants to completely ruin Jasper. He blames Jasper for making him leave, and he blames Jasper for all the wars he fought with Maria in the South. And the little devil has allied herself with his cause, for no one wants to see him suffer more than she does.”

You felt Jasper tense beside you. None of this was his fault, he was just doing what he was ordered. But Preston was focusing all his energy on completely destroying your bond with him. Earlier, Jasper explained that you were his mate. Perhaps, this was a revenge plot?

“But why would he think I’d willingly fall into his arms like we’re still in love? It was over a century ago, and I don’t remember any of it!” you shouted.

“That man died in 1863 when he was turned. Since that day, he’s been stuck in the past—eternally bound to the promise to return back to you. No matter what you say, he’s always going to after you. That’s what he told his mother, and the next day she signed your papers.”

Jasper wrapped a protective arm around your middle. “That won’t happen. He won’t take her away from me. And as for Maria, I know her better than anyone else in this world. I’m not scared if it comes to a fight.”

“Why can’t I see anything anymore?” Alice cried. “And why can’t the witches help?”

“Because once a witch is aware of what they are, vampires can no longer turn them or use their gifts on them. Maria and Preston have also probably enlisted the help of witches or wolves to cover their tracks. And as for the witches. . .they have completely shunned Y/N from society. In fact, they’d probably be more willing to kill her than help, but because of me, they’re holding their preference of the law at bay.”

Edward, frustrated at the lack of his telepathic abilities, said, “So we’re going in blind, the witches won’t help—isn’t this a Volturi level threat?”

Ava sighed. “The Volturi is completely submissive to the witches. If they come near a witch family or steps within a mile radius of even the city of New Orleans, the entire vampire race will be completely wiped out. Sorry, but they won’t be much help in this fight.”

You pressed your hand to your chest, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. Immediately, Jasper caught you as you wobbled on your feet from the lack of oxygen. His scent comforted you, but you felt the distance between the two of you more than ever. At one point, you were pledged to another man; the same man after his life now.

“So what can we do?” your mother and Esme pleaded. “How can we save her? They’re bringing their newborn armies after us, the seven of us won’t be enough!”

Ava twirled a ball of light in her fingers thoughtfully. You realized that despite the fact she was biracial, she looked so similar to you. You shared the same round nose and shape of lips.

“I really hate you more than anything, if I’m being honest. Your mom favored you and sent you away, leaving me in the dust and without a mother in a time when I didn’t understand a bit of what magic was or that the supernatural even existed,” she admitted. “But you’re still my sister, and you’re the only family I’ve got left. I’m going to try to get some of my friends to come to our side, but that’s no guarantee. Sadly, Helen of Troy is still pinned for being the start of war.”

“And we have some friends of our own,” Carlisle said. “And we’ll try to convince the shapeshifters to help too. If we could lure them back to La Push, that would mean infringing on werewolf territory and it would give them no choice but to defend Y/N.”

Jasper held you tighter, and his eyes darkened. “I don’t care what I have to do. Preston has been sorely mistaken, and now we have an old score to settle. Y/N and I are in love now, and we always will be. What happened in 1863 will stay in 1863, and I will be the one to make sure that happens.”

You snuggled into his chest, closing your eyes. You prayed to God—the Goddess or whoever—that you and your family would end up okay. You prayed for the baby that was never born, the baby that was never loved, and you prayed for your biological mother’s tortured soul. But lastly, and more importantly, you prayed for Jasper.

Don’t you like watching Jasper ride his hOnSe??

Part Three Part Four

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale imagines #Twilight #twilight imagines #cullen clan #edward cullen #carlisle cullen #alice cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #rosalie hale #i hate doing hastags #i like the honse

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cogentranting · 4 years

Text

Favorite Lyrics from Every House of Heroes Song

*Overall favorites marked with an asterisk

What You Want is Now

Julia- "All the time you walked away The truth was at your fingertips"

Barbara’s Birthday- I never said that I love you dear I never knew, I never knew your heart at all

Mercedes Baby- Hold loosely to my hand 'Cause it's a long, long road And you don't know and I don't know where it goes

The Drugs the Drugs- Talking in your sleep Telling stories that you keep In a drawer beside your bed

The Lead Role in the Cage- When she prays at night she feels like screaming

Uncomfortable (What you Want is Now)- Don't breath the air It's contagious

Your Wurlitzer- The awkward/ The floating/ The silence and the choking/ The mystery/ Urgency/ The passion and the irony

Kamikaze Baby- I never thought it would come to this To this and maybe Suicide by small increments

Honesty- I cannot hide when honesty says I've lied Regretful and wondering why you heal me deep inside

Something of an Optimist- Days just float on by and we're so occupied That we forgot to cry Love shows its face Amazing grace And everything's just fine

Nobody Loves No One- Your eyes spoke words you didn't dare You trusted what betrayed you

Katie Baby- Watch the reruns in my mind

Say No More

Buckets for Bullet Wounds- What's your option? Cold corruption or starvation Buckets for bullet wounds

Fast Enough- Wretched melodies call you from the deep When you should be sleeping And they know, your name

Friday Night- Power's the drug, and pride is the needle And it rips through my skin And goes into my blood stream Oh I feel like laughing, I feel like choking on it

Invisible Hook- Stuffing our ears with luxury Covered our eyes in apathy What can be done with our disease?

Mercedes Baby (alt)- I sold my passion for a dime Unto a thousand hungry eyes I covet kingdoms crumbling

Serial Sleepers- Rise up, O Sons of God And sing the song that hides behind your teeth

Make a Face Like You Mean It (Vampires)- Don't bother to show integrity It never sells on the market

Metaphor in Parentheses- Darkness spreads it lonely wings On the high horizons of our hopes and dreams

You Are the Judas of the Cheerleading Squad- Forged in the fire and the fire it burns in me I've slept in the belly of the beast Now I'll sleep under your wings

Pulling Back the Skin- I'm pulling back the skin here I'm taking out the pins here I'm finding that you're still in here

Suicide Baby- I never thought it would come to this And maybe, it's suicide by small increments

Angels in Top Hats- Hopeless cathedrals, blankets and needles Angels in top hats, cups full of blood

The End is Not the End

If- If you were mine, I'd risk my dignity If only to give love a chance

Lose Control**- I am the answer that you misunderstand I do the evil that an honest man can't I live in shadows that the enemy casts I have no future and I have no past

Leave You Now- And like the river that is winding takes its water to sea The only ending that is fitting is you with me, baby

Dangerous- Hey, hey, this is dangerous I'm writing all the songs that I'll play for us

In the Valley of the Dying Sun- And then I felt it with a chill up my spine There are no words to use that truly describe The glory of the angel or the terror in me

Code Name: Raven- There's no virtue in killing a man Neither is there virtue in being afraid to stand

By Your Side- And like that sand through our hands Go our grandest plans

Journey Into Space (Part One)- Let them come for us Let them have their way with our names they drag through the mud Should they murder us We will live again in the clouds that cover the sun

Sooner or Later*- And with this untapped energy We'll carve our names in the unknown

Baby’s a Red- I will testify I loved you And I'm not ashamed to be your comrade

Drown- Grant us grace to change our minds

Faces- I'm in love but I'm tasteless I only want what's bad for me

Voices- The voices of the innocent are coming to life

Field of Daggers**- Until your rains, oh God Bring forth your colored beauty Confirm the hopes of nations in longing Bring life to tired hopes Buried in fields of flowers

New Moon- I will rise, I will rise when the new moon glows

Ghost- Now I got my freedom But it feels like emptiness

The Young and the Brutal- God give us grace to be brutally faithful And make up for wasted time

Suburba

Relentless- Rebels we become In tracks where young lions run Red beneath the raging sun Like wildfires we burn, we burn

Elevator- Time tears our hope, and the change comes so slowly

Love is for the Middle Class- If all I had was love, would I still be lovely I all I gave was love, would you give up on me

So Far Away- In this heartless world we gotta hold on to hope

God Save the Foolish Kings- We're honest only cuz the truth, it cannot hide

Salt in the Sea- Softened by the salt of the sea I'm alive And you are everything

Independence Day for a Petty Thief- Green lawns, washed in black, all reflecting exploding light

Somebody Knows- And when it blows The wreckage and the wasteland Will be refuge from the quicksand We've been sinking down in

Disappear- We built our perfect dream on shifting sand Scattered in one motion of God's hand

She Mighty Mighty- In darkness, she's a lightening bolt She's so powerful

Constant- All through the night I was falling Straining to hear your voice calling You never gave up, never gave in, never quite gave up on me You are my constant

Burn Me Down- Like a shadow, like the sea mist I cannot grasp it, yet it exists

Galveston- Your laughter kept us warm And we always had enough

Cold Hard Want

A Man Who’s Not Afraid- I see the hands of time race by my tired eyes

Out My Way*- If you add up all the risks not taken they're all misses Think I'd rather live with the knock down drag outs and the stitches

Dance (Blow it All Away)- Maybe we could make another life in the blazing lights Maybe we can rebuild in the rubble of our ruined lives

Remember the Empire- Here they threaten with murder and bribe us with peace Here they treat us like slaves and convince us we're free

We Were Giants- A ray of hope is never tangible, Change is almost imperceptible

The Cop- I love you more Than I love myself And I'm scared to death That you love me less

Comfort Trap- I heard it calling in my sleep at night So I killed my dream with a butcher knife

Touch this Light*- If I could see what you see in me If I could push through the crippling fear Then I would run with the raging wind Then I would live again

Angels of Night- Angels of night Hide in the half light Praying for souls like mine

Stay- Don't tell me you're not safe It sounds like a dare to me

Suspect- Suspect. Something isn't right Their shifting eyes betray their smiles

I Am a Symbol- So let my life be a song And may that song carry on

The Knock Down Drag Outs

Dead- I bring a knife to a fistfight But lately my baby she bring a gun

Choose Your Blade*- It was a numinous night, wet and cold like the last week of autumn

Your Casualty- You call the spirit inside me Like lightning calls thunder

Love Sick Zombie- Kill me if you must but please don't hurt me (or mess up my hair)

Patient- Be patient with me I'm planting the seed And soon, I will be in bloom, my Love

Smoke EP**

Bottle Rocket- Baby, who you fooling? I'm kerosene Add a little fire and you're warm with me But get a little careless and I'll burn you down Turn your house to rubble, smoking on the ground

The Worst Kind of Gods- Alone, we are the worst kind of Gods Slave to a selfish heart That always wants

Wake up Screaming- I break down in the chapel When only stain glass saints can hear The prayers I seldom offer Through cold and heavy tears

A Fire Only We Know- Is a bravery inside me Still clinging to my bones Like smoke from a fire only we know

Satisfied- I've come to terms with the man that I made up And the one I really am

Infinite- Even though it's gone it still lives on If only as a distant echo Bouncing off the metal of years gone by

Colors

This City is a Cage- And like a shooting star Our brightest light is in the part so close to burning up

Colors Run- But I'm a long way from going the distance Feels more like dying by inches All the wishes, and the misses The poverty of indifference

Pioneer- But the hunger in our belly makes us hard and lean Cut our way through the world with a primal scream

Rat- These shadow streets cast shadows of doubt

We Make Our Stars*- We can't change the color of the sky But we can rage against the night

Feel*- This ghetto's my cathedral This gun my Eucharist

God- But if God is a hard man, why am I still alive?

In the End- Like dreamers do, we'll dangle our feet off the edge

Crash- The love you're for is a settled score And that's why I can't love you anymore

Matador*- You pose as a king with a city to rule But you were never a lion You were always a bull

Shots Fired- Colors run deep in the city Like the color of blood On the concrete

Get Away- On a streetlight fading out I make a wish

Colors Die Out- Sometimes I dream about the stars And think it's really not so dark

#house of heroes #lyrics #music

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yessoupy · 4 years

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new follower, i had no idea you were from texas. i live about an hour away from galveston.

I, too, live about an hour from galveston. mom is selling her house down here after nearly four decades of ownership so we're having a big send-off. I've been mired in family photos for two weeks and had to pack a harp, an electric bass, and amplifier, and a ukulele in my car. as well as a papier mache fish head.

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writerandee · 5 years

Text

Stages of Love

Here it is, my first dive in to Richard Armitage real person stories. Please read, reblog and let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters of this story!

Coffee. The life brightener, mood elevator, necessary rich brown liquid gold sustenance. Right now, this was all she needed and could focus on. By the time she left her apartment and finally reached her favorite local coffee shop, Roasters, to say she was late to her day getting started would’ve been an understatement. Her alarm didn’t go off and she didn’t have time for a proper shower. After some simple make up and a quick blow dry of her hair she was done with all the society dictated primping. She was headed to work, a book store she inherited from her grandfather after his passing. Her store was close to Roasters and she always preferred this for her necessary daily caffeine intake instead of the more mainstream Starbucks which would’ve been hugely inconvenient since the nearest one was 3 streets away and entirely not within walking distance from her apartment to her store. This mostly unknown coffee shop happened to be very old-world where you would find that most patrons were locals, repeat customers with the occasional traveler seeking something different and unknown in this tourist ridden beach town. The city of Galveston, Texas was once a bustling port of trade and leisure for the wealthy elite of the area, but those days have long since passed. All that’s left of that bygone era are a few scattered well maintained buildings from the turn of the century.

Walking in to the coffee shop she noticed the usual few people who made this their regular go to hang out and quick coffee stop. Many of them were regular shoppers at her own store. Coffee and books do go hand in hand she realized long ago. After a quick order of a large caramel vanilla macchiato she sat at an empty table to wait for her order to be called. Timothy, a local artist and historian who had known her since grade school spotted her from across the shop and made a quick dash to her table.

Ugh, him of all days, this is just the cherry on top of this morning disaster sundae.

“Hello Lillian! I thought I might find you here this morning.” All 5’8 of him from head to toe was revolting and completely woman repelling. The lack of hygiene and clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in months were definitely a turn off.

If he was a more intelligent man, he’d know not to speak to me until I’ve had coffee.

The expression on her face was one of pure annoyance and impatience.

“Yes Tim, I basically come here every morning, but you already know that.” Imbecile.

He’d probably ask her to dinner, movie or any of the other typical date like things he could come up with. He must have asked her out at least once a week for the past year. Her answer was always a resounding, no.

“Also, I know I’ve told you this for maybe the 100th time, but call me Lily. Lillian was my grandmother’s name and last time I checked I’m barely past 30.”

“There’s that sass I know and love.”

“ORDER FOR LILY!”

Saved by the barista. Thank you, heavens, above!

“Alright Tim well I must be heading to work now, books don’t sell themselves you know.” She started making a quick escape towards the door from Tim the leech when he suddenly blocked her path.

“One last thing Lil, the historical foundation is putting on a performance of The Crucible at the Opera House on Saturday, mainly for charity but the director has gotten someone famous to headline or sponsor or something, I don’t know. What time should I pick you up?”

“And just what makes you think I’d be interested in going with you?”

“Oh, I just so happen to know you won’t say no this time.”

“Really? What makes you so sure?”

“It’s the Crucible Lil. Don’t you still have the VHS copy of the movie from the 90’s, Daniel Day’ Lewis and Winona Ryder or something?”

She had to admit to herself, he had a point, this was a performance she wouldn’t want to miss but going with him as his date made her suddenly very nauseous.

“If I go with you, it is strictly and only as friends, not a date.”

“Alright, fine, just friends. For now.”

With that last overly creepy statement, Tim left the shop. Her mind was conflicted. How was she going to spend an entire performance sitting next to him if she could barely stomach just a few minutes in his presence? But she knew without a doubt this was a performance not to miss. With her coffee in hand she left the shop and made her way to her own book store a block around the corner.

Opening time was 9 a.m., but I guess today it will be more like 9:30.

The store really was more like home than her own apartment was. Opening the front door was one of the best parts of her day. Inhaling the scent of so many books made her soul come alive with anticipation to start another day for a business she was truly passionate about. She put her purse and keys away in the back office before making her way to the front checkout counter. She noticed the voicemail indicator light on the phone illuminated letting her know there was a new message.

Odd, we don’t normally get calls before opening.

She pressed play for the voicemail box and listened with curiosity. A friendly and excited woman’s voice played over the speaker.

“Lily Montgomery, this is Aubrey with the Historical Foundation. I’m sure by now you’ve heard there is to be a performance of The Crucible at the Opera House this Saturday. We are inquiring on if your store would like to set up a stand with books for sale about the Salem Witch Trials before the performance? Please return my call if this sounds like something you’d be interested in.”

Well it looks like I have another reason to go after all.

After taking stock of what books she had available and which ones she needed to do a quick order for, she returned Aubrey’s call to let her know she’d be more than happy to be involved with the pre-show.

The rest of the day was business as usual with the random student needing a book and lookers and browsers who didn’t know what they were searching for and didn’t need help but when they find it, they’ll let you know. These customers were always Lily’s favorites. It seemed like they usually picked a book based on their current life situation. He wants something more exciting. She wants something with drama and a good love story. Everyone’s reasons for being in her store were always different and that was something she looked forward to every day.

Once closing time came and went, she locked the front door and made her way to the back office to get her things ready to leave for the night. She checked her email quickly before leaving and noticed an email from Aubrey. It was an advertisement for ticket sales to The Crucible. Her store name was listed as a sponsor at the bottom. But what had caught and kept her eye and attention was a head shot of the most handsome man she had ever seen in the middle of the page.

“OPENING PRESENTATION BY RICHARD ARMITAGE.”

Included was a short bio about his various roles in cinema, television and on stage. It seemed he had played the lead role of John Proctor in a run of The Crucible in London a few years back.

Makes sense why he would be here for this.

He really was quite the intriguing specimen. His face was the picture of masculine perfection with a pair of intense aquiline eyes that could almost peer deep down to your very soul and reveal your innermost secrets, an impossibly regal nose and a magnificent jawline complete with the perfect amount of stubble. Oh, he was magnificent indeed. Her nerves were immediately set on fire. But this was merely a publicity picture. Surely the man wouldn’t be this alluring or captivating in person.

#richard armitage #real person fiction #richard armitage x OC

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regnbuereisen · 5 years

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Day 12: Still San Antonio

Leaving one area of the city for another. It’s not far, but we’ve moved ourselves and our stuff to the Pearl area and booked a night at the fashionable Hotel Emma. It really is the fanciest place we’ve stayed so far, and our room is on the top floor with a balcony and everything.

After a mediocre breakfast at Hotel Gibbs, we packed our bags and walked the few blocks to the car park, braved the spaghetti highway, and made our way to the north end of downtown. It didn’t take many minutes to drive, and we were there before even most of the shops opened.

Even early in the morning it’s hot here, so we went to buy ice creams at Lick, but they don’t open until 11.30, so instead we found a café and ordered a second breakfast (not really, it was just coffee and hot chocolate), and people-watched for a while. I’ve never had a hot chocolate with foam art before, so I was impressed just from that. It tasted really good as well.

The area is expensive. That we knew beforehand, and it looks really nice here, but it feels kinda fake, if that makes sense. The area is well gentrified, and I imagine the rent is pretty high here.

Øyvind noticed a sweet book shop (Twig) right next to the café, so once we finished our drinks we crossed the square and went inside. Such a quaint shop. I really liked it! Filled with books, both old and new, gifts, souvenirs, other book-related stuff. I could probably have spent a couple of hours in there just looking. But I didn’t leave empty-handed. I found a notebook for myself (you can never have enough notebooks), and a gift, that I won’t talk about here, because, you know….

We spent then next few hours just wandering the streets, keeping to the shadow, and watching the people and the architecture. As far as we can tell, the whole area (or at least a good part of it) used to be a brewery. Every building is connected, and there are remnants of the old everywhere. But now it’s filled with restaurants and high-end shops. It’s not as touristy as it is further downtown. We found a shop called Ten Thousand Villages, a non-profit, fair trade shop that sells handcrafted jewellery and other items made by women in other parts of the world. They had a lot of nice things, but unfortunately not my style.

We had lunch at Southerleigh today because it had some really good reviews.. The restaurant (and brewery) is located inside the old brewery building, and they had really good food. Øyvind had the special of the day, which was beef soup first, and then a shrimp po’boy. Man! Those shrimps were succulent and tasty! I had the house burger, which was good, but a little bit dry.

We had to try the macarons at Bakery Lorraine too, simply because, well… it’s macarons. And the bakery is famous for them. We even had bubbles to go with them. Pretend like we’re rich, right? I’ve never been served bubbles in a milk glass before :D Sublime macarons, by the way. I really didn’t want to share with Øyvind. XP

Not sure what we wanted to do when we had finished eating (we were starting to get tired and very, very hot and sweaty), we found a place called The Grotto on google. It said it was pretty and shaded, so we decided to give it a try. It was pretty, sure, but was it worth the walk? I don’t know.

After this, we decided to stop by the hotel to see if our room was ready (check-in was, as always at 3, but it’s worth a try). Unfortunately it wasn’t, so to console ourselves we dried our sweaty, sunburnt faces and sat down in one of the hotel’s bars for some cocktails.

The room is really luxurious and big. And as I said, we even have a balcony. It was too hot to sit out there, but it’s still nice to have the opportunity.

Had to take a small siesta today, too. We’re really not built for these temperatures. But we made sure to make a dinner reservation at Cured, so we wouldn’t have to walk around looking for a place to eat, because apparently it’s really busy in the evenings here.

Oh, I forgot: there’s a library in the hotel <3

Lucky we did, because when we finally emerged from the hotel, the area was teeming with people. There’s some event in the square with a DJ and street vendors. We watched for a few moments, but the music wasn’t for us.

Dinner, however, was absolutely delicious. We split a small plate of pig cheek poutine with cheese curds. Weird with meat and sauce on top of French fries (we’ve never had poutine before, can you tell?), but the meat just melted in our mouths. It was really good. For the main course I ordered lamb with bitter melon and pureed something (I don’t remember what it was). Øyvind had the grilled flat iron. It was SO good! (And SO expensive, but we’ll find cheaper places to eat for the rest of the trip). It was even more expensive than the trash can in our hotel restroom – and yes, we got a price list. If you’re curious, the trash can is $80. 😳 Every piece of furniture is possible to buy.

Unfortunately a couple doing yoga right outside the restaurant window put a damper on our meal. Not the yoga part so much, but the fact that the man didn’t wear a shirt. That s*** should be illegal. So we didn’t stay for dessert.

That we (well, I did… Øyvind won’t eat ice cream abroad) had at Lick – honest ice cream. Two scoops, one with salted caramel and one with blueberry. OMG! It was so delicious. It tasted fresh and natural, and they make the waffle cones in the shop daily.

I had to eat it fast, though, because it started melting the moment we stepped outside the shop again. So I practically inhaled the thing :D

Back at the hotel, we sat down on the balcony to watch the sunset and listen to the birds settling down for the night. Suddenly I noticed a woman in our room, and I yanked the door open. Turned out it was an employee who delivered complimentary macarons (from Bakery Lorraine) and made the bed ready for the night (she had knocked, but we didn’t hear her, since we had the balcony door closed). Being in an expensive hotel comes with weird stuff, let me tell you. But the macarons makes up for the scare.

It soon became too hot to sit outside anymore, even with the sun setting, so we moved inside again to lounge on the king size bed instead. Øyvind found a channel called Motor Trend, so that’s him settled for the evening. I’m going to write a review of the ranch we stayed on, because they deserve all the praise they can get.

And later we have to find out where we want to go tomorrow. We still haven’t decided yet, and we have to book a hotel room. Or maybe we’ll just stop at a motel. Who knows. All we know is that the coast beckons, and we’re either spending the night in Corpus Christi, Port Aransas, Rockport, or Galveston.

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seenashwrite · 5 years

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Hello, I’m Gone

Word Count: 5.4K Category: One-shot; Behind-the-scenes canon-compliant; Baby/The Impala; Choices; Personal growth; Heart-grabber; Life, love, and family Rating: Teen & Up Character(s): Reader/Female O.C.; Male & Female O.C.s; References to familiar people/places Pairing(s): N/A Warnings: Mild coarse language Author’s Note(s): *This is a re-post, minus tags and links, in an effort to make it show in searches; more post-story Overall Summary: Chuck told us a story about Baby’s early days. And we know how she’s spent most of her life helping the Winchesters get to where they need to go. Here’s a little of what happened in between.

The Lucchese brothers set out for America from Italy, climbed off a boat in Galveston, Texas in 1882. Enterprising fellows as they were, Sal and Joe already had a nice little thing going, a boot-making shop out at Fort Houston, over in San Antonio, by 1883. Sal was a nut for machinery, really turned his crank - any word he got about something that might rev things up, well, he wanted to be the first to try it.

The Luccheses became known for their hands-on approach, helped by those machines, sure, but only so’s they could give their work a boost. And they refused to cut corners, not even a little. The brothers believed that you should do things right, didn’t matter how busy you got.

Right around the turn of the century, their boots were coming in at around ten bucks. By the early parts of the 1900s, they were around $40 a pop. Then came the Hollywood bandwagon, handfuls of actors showing up wearing the Italian-meets-Western creations as word spread - back in that day, couldn’t just turn on a TV or expect to see ‘em plastered on billboards. Word of mouth and reputation go a hell of a long way.

The singer-songwriters and actual cowboy-types came along. And in the 60s, when style was starting to take a left turn, those boots were still hanging around. Hell, even the White House got in on the action - I’d heard some of the Kennedys got measured and fitted. Johnson, too.

Which, you should. I did. It wasn’t cheap, but worth it. You plan to surround yourself with something, day in and day out, you best make sure it’s a good fit. So I dished out some of the precious savings I’d squirreled away and got two good fits. Just in case I needed to walk.

And I would’ve walked, all the way, if I’d had to. I had 'em for a year, good and broken-in, those dark cherry-red dreams that came almost to my knees. Short legs, short strides, but I was determined.

They’d turned into what I thought were the most important boots - maybe the most important things - in the world. They kept me going, just needed to glance down at them, like they were a talisman. If I believed in that sort of thing.

Still. Funny how things can do that for you, and the people around you can’t. Won’t.

I’d been planning over that year of boot-breaking. To get out. Get gone. Away from that shithole outside Dallas, out of Texas completely. The boots set me back, my waitressing tips and the cash from hocking what little jewelry Momma’d had never quite plugging the hole. Especially when lots of it kept disappearing from my purse, went to his beer and liquor. And his girls on the side.

I stole his piece of garbage truck. I had the spare key, made sense with all the driving I did in it, picking him up from the bars when they’d announced everybody didn’t have to go home, but they couldn’t… well, you know the rest. And sometimes he wouldn’t head home and I’d find him wandering back from a cheap motel along the potholed road that led to the house. His house. His TV. His food. His furniture. His guns.

Stole one of those, too.

The world had sailed into the 70s while I was sailing nowhere. I had nothing to my name but some clothes, my picture of Momma and Daddy the day they got hitched, and my boots. Only brought what I couldn’t do without. A small start, but I figured it was better than nothing.

I still lacked a surefire way to get me where I wanted to go. Wherever that was. Figured I’d know once I got there. I knew the boots would be loyal long as they could, but they weren’t gonna take me all the way. I wasn’t sure what could.

I got a feeling that would change when I spotted that big black dream, parked all lonely in somebody’s yard. A handwritten “FOR SALE BY OWNER” sign was taped inside the back window. It was dirty as all get-out, had a crack in the passenger side window, a bent fender, and one of the back tires needed air in a bad way.

But it hung with me well after I’d passed it, walking towards civilization and a phone, after I’d gone and got the truck stuck in reverse. Not too bad, though. Gotten as far as Lubbock without doing worse.

I’m not proud of it, pulling my gun on the guy I’d hitched a ride with. It was after my suitcase wheels had long got useless, my boots all muddy, and I was a wet rat, trudging down the road in a quick summer rainstorm, a mile gone from that car my brain kept chewing on. He had kept putting his hand on my knee, though. Wouldn’t listen to my polite - or my not-so-polite - rebukes.

So I tolerated it til we were close to a service station, and that hand sure did fly off quick when he heard the cock of the hammer.

I’d now chewed on that car til all the flavor was gone, even as I got a tow for the truck. I had plenty of cash for the tow, didn’t let on, though, as I talked the guy down with a little flirting. I’m sure changing into a sundress in the service station’s bathroom helped that along.

Had to cruise around a touch, before I found the turn-off from the paved to the unpaved, then about four more miles to the modest older house with the huge yard. As I pulled in, I saw it. Saw clean through all the bumps and bruises, right to the beauty underneath.

I’d parked and turned off the truck, then just stared at it with a slightly dropped jaw, my hand lingering on the keys that were still stuck in the ignition.

The creaking of a screen door and a hearty chuckle startled me out of the reverie. My hand reflexively shot from the keys to my purse. But the sweet, round, smiling face of the portly man in overalls leisurely coming down the porch steps, then across the yard towards me, set my mind at ease. Long time since I’d been this close to a man that didn’t give me the willies. Still. I rolled down the window but didn’t get out.

He finally reached me, resting a forearm on my door, but not intruding, the cotton of his rolled-sleeve shirt just peeking in. I briefly let my eyes close. A breeze had wafted by, and I caught the heavenly scent that told me his clothes had been hung on out on lines to dry in the Texas sun. It reminded me of Momma. His well-worn ballcap reminded me of Daddy.

The chuckle still floated over his words as he spoke.

“Well, we were waitin’ on you to knock, but I told the Mrs. we’d be waitin’ awhile, since you’d gotten a good look at 'er!”

I blinked, said, “Oh. Oh, I… how long have I been sitting here?”

Another chuckle.

“Not too long, just long enough. You want to come sit on the porch? I got hollered at before I came to get you that lemonade’s almost ready.”

I nodded, and he opened the door, seemed to understand when I hesitated and wanted him to walk ahead of me instead of the other way around. I snatched my purse off the seat and brought it with me. Just in case.

We had barely sat, he on a crate that I wondered at, not sure how it was managing his size, and me on the porch swing, when a woman came out of the house, rear-end first. Her backside pushed open the screen door, her hands busy with a tray. A pitcher full of what turned out to be the best lemonade I’d ever had in my life sat atop it, alongside three plastic tumblers.

I drank two-and-a-half’s worth before I spoke, and they were kind enough to keep pouring, waiting patiently. They looked about the age Momma and Daddy would’ve been, though maybe not as worn. Seemed peaceful out here where they were.

“I don’t like the truck,” I said when I finally spoke, a real great opener.

They had easy smiles on their faces, but didn’t reply.

“I like that,” I clarified, turning my head slightly, pointing back to the car.

“You know anything about cars like that, hon?” the man asked.

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, then just shook my head. But after a second thought -

“I know they’re fast.”

Now, I couldn’t tell you what my face looked like when I said that last part, but I can tell you that woman’s eyes shifted from bright and shiny to something a little more somber.

Her husband didn’t seem to notice anything, just kept smiling and nodding his head.

“A little too fast for me, I tell ya what,” he said. “We’ve only had 'er a few years, I’ve kept 'er in shape, she’s always run like a dream—”

“She?” I cut in.

“Oh, something that pretty ain’t a boy,” he informed me, and his wife’s eyes went to sparkling again as she laughed.

“We have two boys,” she informed me. “Rough and tumble, right out the gate.”

“I’m afraid that’s how the crack happened,” he went on, then paused, but I could tell he wasn’t angry.

“Long story?” I asked, a smile of my own starting to appear. It was infectious. These people felt like family, and I’d known them about five minutes. Those were damn lucky boys.

Another rumbling chuckle.

“Well, it’s just a crack, anyways. No sense in getting worked up over the little stuff, ain’t that right?” he replied, looking over to his wife, who’d come and sat by me on the swing.

She nodded, then looked at me. "You got any kids?“

I shook my head. "No, ma'am.”

“Just as well. That car….” She trailed off with a bit of a tsk and a head shake. “I never felt quite right, when he’s run around with the boys in it. Fast, like you say. Made me nervous.”

“Aw, honey, now, we can’t keep 'em home forever,” her husband said, but with love, not criticism.

“Why’re you wanting to sell?” I asked.

He sighed, said, "Just too tight on me, on my knees and such. Need a little more room now-a-days.“ He glanced to his wife as he patted his belly. "If your cookin’ wasn’t so good—”

“Then we’d have never stayed married this long,” she finished for him. She looked back to me, saying, “And we’ve got a station wagon that’ll do just fine for now. No sense in keeping it.”

I nodded.

A few moments of silence, all of us taking sips of our lemonade.

“I, ah… what price were y'all thinking of?” I asked, hating how tiny I sounded. Maybe even how desperate. Well. I was.

He opened his mouth to respond, but she put her hand lightly over mine and spoke first.

“You say you don’t care for that truck - well, what if we make it part of the deal?”

She and I both glanced to him.

He raised his eyebrows, thought for a second. “That might not be a half-bad idea. Got good leg room?”

I nodded. “Yessir. I have to have the seat scooted all the way, and then my boots help some.”

“Those are lovely boots,” she commented.

“Thank you.”

“You are a slip of a thing!” he said. “Let’s get you in the Impala, though, make sure those boots’ll get you to the pedals, whatcha say?”

Now I nodded like crazy, I couldn’t help it. They were going to take me for all I had, I was starting to believe. Or it would be too rich for my blood. At least I’d get to sit in it, just for a little while.

It was clean-as-a-whistle inside. The way they’d talked about their boys, I’d have expected stale french fries and milkshake stains everywhere, but there wasn’t a sign telling me this car wasn’t anything except beloved. I laid my hands on the steering wheel.

Hi, there, pretty lady.

“Oof!” I muttered. The door had stayed open, and he’d pushed the seat forward abruptly.

“Well, look-a-there, like a glove!” he announced, and he was right.

Granted, the seat was up all the way, but I wasn’t just using my tip-toes. My foot was centered on the pedals. I sunk just the right amount into the seat.

“I don’t reckon you’ll need 'em to drive, but them boots, they look awful fine in there,” he commented, in only a slightly leading tone.

But he wasn’t trying to woo me, he was just stating a fact. They did. It was a perfect fit.

I was sold.

“Now, she’s up to date on 'er check-ups, you ain’t gotta worry about that or oil changes or whatnot anytime soon,” he went on. “And ain’t nothing wrong with that back tire, it was just a little nail and it patched up fine, I just haven’t got around to fillin’ it back up.”

I ran my hand along the leather seat. My purse was still hanging across me. They were older. They were sweet. I could’ve stolen it, I bet.

Could’ve stopped in a grocery store parking lot, changed the tags. Be long gone out of the state, just keep changing them whenever I crossed a county line. Make our time together last as long as I was able.

“Your face is all wound up,” he pointed out, and I looked up at him to find that steady kindness staring back.

“I don’t have a lot of money,” I said softly.

“We can talk that over, hon. I need something—”

I nodded.

“—but I’d rather take less than, to have 'er go to someone who loves 'er, instead of lining my pockets three times over.”

A glance over the roof of the car. I followed suit, looking through the cracked window. The porch was empty.

“The boys are stayin’ over at a friend’s, and I know that woman’s still cooked enough to feed everybody in town. You wanna have a little supper before you head back out?”

It was the best meal I’d had in years.

“I was thinking,” I began timidly, once the meal was over.

She had stood, picked up her plate and was reaching for mine, when she slowly sat back down. I wasn’t looking at them when I began. When I brought my head up, they had something akin to sympathy on their faces.

What I must’ve looked like to them.

“I have about four hundred dollars,” I said, pulling the strap over my head and setting my purse on the table, then opening it. "And, then this… um… please don’t let me scare you or anything.“ I gingerly pulled out the handgun and set it next to my scraped-clean plate. "This can be part of my pay, too, and the truck, well, it tends to stick in reverse, but I took care of that earlier, and I don’t know what size shoe you wear, ma'am, but these are Luchesses, I don’t know if you know of those, but they’re real real nice when they’re not muddy, they’re only a year old, and you could probably get good money for 'em….”

I let my rambling drift off, those sympathetic stares still trained on me.

“Never… never mind,” I said quickly, scooting my chair back and standing. “Y'all have been real kind, I appreciate the supper.”

They shared a look, and when I moved to pick up my purse and the gun, her soft hand once more covered mine.

“Now hold on there, missy,” she said in a slightly firm tone, one I assumed she typically reserved for the menfolk of her home.

“You’re gettin’ ahead of yourself - take that chair, then take you a deep breath,” he chimed in.

I nodded, did as instructed.

“That gun’s not scary,” she told me, after I’d sat and looked back to her, her hand now holding mine, resting them both on the table. “We’re in Texas.”

The reminder set that twinkle to spark in her eyes, and I laughed.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“That truck run good otherwise?” he asked.

“Yessir,” I said, then paused. “It ain’t as clean inside as the… the…”

“Impala.”

“The Impala. Um, I… didn’t stop to… I didn’t have time to get all the beer bottles and cans and… well, it’s messy.”

“Messes can be cleaned up."

It was an easy-going response, and I gave him a look that I hope conveyed my thanks for it before I went on.

“Oh, the tires! I know two new tires got put on last summer… I don’t remember which, though.”

I was combing my brain for anything else I could tell them. Anything to make them want anything of mine. Anything of worth. I had so little of worth.

She released my hand and patted it, then looked to her husband. "Help me get these dishes to the sink,” she requested, standing and beginning to gather.

“I can—” I started, beginning to stand.

“No no no,” she fussed good-naturedly. “You’re company.”

He heaved himself up with a grunt, picking up his plate and following behind her to the kitchen. I stood the rest of the way anyway, glancing around. The dining area bled into the den, and I found myself looking at the pictures on the walls, drinking in the stories they told me like they were porch lemonade.

Good. Those boys were loved but good.

They came back in then, and I turned, kneading my hands behind my back.

He had papers in his hands, and they both had tiny grins on their faces. He set the papers down on the table, ambled towards me, hand outstretched, palm up.

“Gimme yer keys, lemme go see about how that truck’s running.”

I felt a flutter in my heart. Quickly retrieving them from the table, I handed them over immediately. After the screen door slammed shut in his wake, I looked to her.

“And that’s a .22, ain’t it?” she asked, pointing to the table, to the gun.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Well, we’d been on the lookout for a little something for me to have when I’m out alone, which is gettin’ to be more routine these days, since the boys seem to be off on adventures all the time.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I repeated. Then I looked down to my boots.

“No,” she said, again in that firm, no-nonsense voice. I looked up to stern eyes and a jerk of a head shake.

“Yes, ma'am,” I whispered, feeling a touch of moisture hit my eyes, and it hit my cheeks, but two quick swipes from her and they were gone.

“Go on, bathroom’s down the hall on the left.”

When I came back out, he was sitting at the table, the papers in front of him, my keys nearby. She was peering over his shoulder, pointed at something, and he nodded, bringing his pen to that spot and scribbling. They looked up at the sound of my boot heels on the floor.

“Hon, I glanced in the glove box, didn’t see any registration,” he said almost carefully.

Damn. I couldn’t think of the last time that shitbird had kept up with things like tags and insurance and registration. And I could’ve kicked myself for not tearing apart the house for the title. I just hadn’t been thinking. Just packed, went to the diner to quit my job, and drove.

“I don’t– it’s not– it’s not actually–”

“I’m gonna be straight here, sweetheart, and you shoot me straight, too.”

“Yessir.”

“Anybody gonna be lookin’ for that truck?”

Is anybody gonna be lookin’ for you?

I shook my head, and this time my voice came out with one-hundred percent certainty and conviction:

“No, sir.”

A nod, then back down to the papers, more scribbling. She caught my eye, gave me a wink. The tiniest of smiles came to my face, and I found myself working my hands behind my back again, this time a different sort of nervousness coming over me.

Once he’d set his pen to the side, he looked over at me. "That’ll be three-hundred and a couple of John Hancocks, young lady.“

I inhaled and exhaled a shaky breath, practically lunged at my purse, pulling out the wad of cash, all three of us soon counting aloud. I had a $50, but other than a smattering of $1s, the rest were $20s. It ended up with $310 on the table.

"Keep the change?” I offered.

Two nods, two smiles.

I signed the paperwork, one a copy for them, then he picked up mine and walked over to a hutch, pulling an envelope out of a drawer. She handed me a - my - shiny key.

“What all do you need off your key ring?”

I looked at her with a grin that made my cheeks ache. “Not a thing.”

He sighed as he stuffed the papers into the envelope. “Well, Junior’s gonna have a fit, sharing a truck with me instead of the Impala.”

She snatched the envelope from him, passed it to me, then grabbed him in a one-armed, but fairly tight, sideways hug. She was the picture of bliss, knowing her sons wouldn’t be speeding around town like a jet bolt of lightning. He freed his arm, put it around her and squeezed back, letting out one of those chuckles that sounded like music to my ears.

I clutched the key to my chest like they clutched each other.

“Oh, your purse, honey,” she suddenly said, seeing as how I’d been turned towards the door in a bit of a haze, staring out the screen at my new partner in crime.

He helped me get my suitcase into that canyon of a trunk, then they guided me as I backed it up, doing a slow three-point-turn in the yard, straightening out onto their unpaved driveway. They came up to the driver’s side window, which I’d left down to hear their instructions. Now they fussed over me like I was one of their own. It was nice.

“You know where the closest gas station is?” she checked.

I nodded. “I was there earlier.”

“Now, you get straight there, get that tire filled all the way up, hear? Don’t get on no highway til you do,” he said.

Another nod. “Yessir.”

“You’ll be safe in ‘er,” she told me, leaning in to give me a little peck on the cheek.

“She’s traveled a lot in ‘er short life,” he added, patting the hood. A pause, a bit of a side-eye. “You don’t sell Bibles, do ya?”

They both snickered.

“Ignore him, hon,” she told me. “My best friend in Iowa’s the one we bought the Impala off of, she hated to sell, though - it had got her the hell out of Wisconsin after her husband died. He was one of them 'come-to-Jesus’, 'the-end-is-nigh’ types, went all over the state passin’ out the Good Book.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“The booze and the fried cheese caught up to him, dropped dead before he got to see his apocalypse,” she responded wryly and with an eye roll.

Then, despite her claimed nervousness and dislike for the Impala, I watched as she almost lovingly stroked the door beside me.

“Never thought that was a good enough life for her,” she commented softly, then brought her eyes to mine.

“I’ll make sure,” I whispered, answering her unasked question.

“She’s gonna get you there,” he told me. “Fast as you need, far as you need.”

And I believed him. Believed in them. Believed in her.

I topped off the gas, watched as one of the station attendants filled the tire with air. I leaned back in, opened my purse to go pay - and I gasped. The gun was there, a small sliver of pie inside a plastic sandwich baggie tucked next to it.

It was seventy-two degrees as I sailed out of Lubbock, and not too dark, but I turned on the headlights anyway. Sweet lord, did they cut through the night. I would see anything coming at me.

I laughed out loud, letting the wind whip my hair with fury, glad for once that it was still on the short side, else I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the feeling as much. I hadn’t bothered to check the radio before signing on the dotted line - it didn’t seem important. I could live without music if I had to, it would be fine.

So before I got on the highway, at the last red light before the on-ramp, I took a moment to unwrap my little slice of love, setting it in my lap. Moment of truth. I put my fingers to the knob.

CLICK

“Son-of-a-bitch!” I squealed, flooring the engine as soon as I hit the highway, banging my hands against the steering wheel, laughing like a maniac in between taking bites of the pie.

The speakers were not as loud as that engine, but goddamn, were they close.

“I’m sorry!” I yelled over the wind and the engine and the radio, apologizing to that heaven-sent hunk of metal for my sticky fingers as I reached for the dial, turning it off of one of the more recent hits that they’d been playing incessantly at the diner.

Anything that reminded me was like nails on a chalkboard. That would fade. I would learn to ignore it.

But not tonight.

“Aaaaahhhh!”

I was screaming again, couldn’t believe it when I heard the start of a song which was very familiar, had good memories attached to it.

“You hear that?!”

I patted the dash rapidly a few times, like I was getting the car’s attention.

“This was one of Momma’s favorites! She and Daddy would stop and dance when it came on!”

I cranked it up more, singing so loudly I’d almost drowned out Mr. Buddy Holly himself.

Maybe baby, I’ll have you Maybe baby, you’ll be true Maybe baby, I’ll have you for me

It was an old song, one from the fifties. I was little, but in my mind, I could still see Daddy’s huge smile and see Momma’s shocked expression, followed quickly by a fit of giggles as he’d whip her around, then dip her down when that song came on the radio. I always wondered why she was surprised - he did it every damn time.

“Love you, baby,” he’d tell her, when the song ended and they were standing close, still swaying a bit.

“I love you back, baby,” she’d reply, like clockwork. Every damn time.

A few tears slipped out, but they were replaced with a smile. I turned down the radio when the song ended. Then with one hand, I folded up the baggie, stuck it inside my purse, never even crossing my mind to toss it on the floorboard or in the backseat.

There were signs up ahead giving me a few options.

“Whaddya say, babygirl - I was headed west, but we can always do somethin’ different!” I reassured the car, giving another pat to the dash.

I chose.

“That okay, me calling you babygirl?" I thought on that for a moment. "You’re not a little girl, though!”

Another moment. My thoughts went back to Buddy’s voice. To Momma and Daddy.

“I don’t got anybody to call Baby, that okay by you?”

If a steady engine and headlights with beams like stars meant a happy car, then I was gonna take it as a sign. If I believed in signs. Which, I suppose, I did.

“Oh! And…”

I had taken off my boots before driving away from the service station, laid them on their sides in the passenger seat. I’d got all the mud off of them in the bathroom after I’d paid. They had their nice touch of a sheen back, even over the scuffs, my older babies seemingly just as happy as my new one.

“…these are the boots that got me to you! Get used to 'em, they’ll be in here a lot!”

I sang along to what felt like a hundred songs til my throat got sore. We drove quietly for awhile. I was a nervous wreck leaving her alone, but I was plumb exhausted, and had to get some sleep. Chasing shadows too long’ll do that.

Even so, I kept peeking out the little motel room window off-and-on for awhile. I’d asked for a ground floor room, so she could be right outside from me. I knew it wasn’t as safe for a single gal to be just off the parking lot, but I didn’t want her to be too far. Besides, I still had the handgun.

Those guardian angels of mine sure were somethin’ else.

I stopped to make a phone call before I hit the road hard. Well, two phone calls. The first was to kill the last speck of doubt.

“Yeah?”

“Hello,” I replied calmly, gazing out the phone booth at Baby.

“Where the hell—”

I smiled. “I’m gone.”

Daddy had relatives in Kansas, second cousins, but I remembered their kids from when I was younger, when we’d drove up to visit a few times. Pen-pal’d for a little bit with one of the boys, we’d kept up over the years. So I dropped in a dime, dialed a better number.

“Wow! You did it!”

I giggled. “I know!”

“You need to come stay with us?”

“If you don’t care—”

“Stop that! We’ve got the room, at least for five more weeks - I still haven’t got rid of the bed or put the crib together.”

“Well, then, I’ll help you. And listen - you’re gonna die. Or hate me. Or have a heart attack, because I’ve got a baby, too!”

My cousin’s reaction was priceless, even more so when I pulled in his driveway. I’d never seen somebody so happy for me and jealous of me all at once. And I had the same reaction when his daughter was born. It was one of the best days of my life, and before I knew it, better days kept coming.

I think the saddest day of my life was letting you go.

It’s strange, how much can change in a year. My cousin had set me up on a blind date with a friend of his, and I thought, shoot - a girl’s gotta eat, so I went. And oh, Baby, was I smitten. But you know - you were there for plenty of the kissing.

And you were there when we made our baby, did you know that? I can’t remember if I thought to tell you. Kansas tornadoes are just that way. Swoop you up into all kinds of craziness.

It felt like a piece of me was getting cut off, watching my husband shake hands, that dealer coming towards us. Your key was cutting into my palm. My other hand was on my belly.

I didn’t do it for the money. I had to do it for the baby. The new baby. And, you know, my ankles are so swollen, I don’t get to wear my boots, if that makes you feel any better. Doesn’t me, though.

We’re moving away. Just have to drop you off, under the rainbow, how funny is that? Then we’re gone.

I owe you my life. You saved me. You’ll save others, I just know it. You’ll get 'em out of tight spots, keep 'em safe, be there for hard stuff, but you’ll be part of so much good stuff, too.

I’m leaving this for you. I’m gonna pull up a little bit of carpet somewhere, slide it in. I don’t know where yet. Just so you won’t be alone. But I don’t think you’ll be by yourself for long.

I hope whoever you end up with finds this, reads this story. That they’ll remember some roads are gonna seem far too long, but if you’re with them, time will fly. That they’ll love you as much as I do and throw on some boots and floor it and zoom into the night and go raise some hell.

I got a feeling they will.

Want more stories? My Master Post is linked in my profile, and it tells you about getting on the Tag List, too! If for whatever reason it gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to send an Ask and I’ll link you.

Re-blogs and feedback are fuel for a writer’s soul - please do let me know if you enjoyed. 😘

Author’s Note #2: This was originally written for the SPN Writing Challenge “Baby’s Big 50″, a celebration honoring Baby for her 50th birthday via 50 song prompts, courtesy of @butiaintgonnaloveem

Challenge Prompt: “Maybe Baby” - Buddy Holly [featured lyrics in the story]

Author Prompt: “Hello, I’m Gone” - Trisha Yearwood [full lyrics below]

Hello, I’m Gone ~ Trisha Yearwood [written by Kevin Welch]

Somebody’s waiting back home in Dallas With no idea where she has gone Got her suitcase all packed up in the back of a pickup Got her red knee-high Luccheses on She’s on any old two-lane, westbound she knows She was chasing her shadow when the sun finally rose And, man, she’s just running, it don’t matter where She figures she’ll know where she is when she’s there And she didn’t leave nothin’ she can’t do without That’s enough reason for leavin’ no doubt She rolls down the window, turns up a song Laughs at the weather and says Hello, I’m gone She broke down in Lubbock, got it stuck in reverse So she hitched down the highway, a little gun in her purse Got to the station, and stared at the phone Found herself thinkin’ bout calling for home But she didn’t leave nothin’ she can’t do without That’s enough reason for leavin’ no doubt She dropped in a quarter, made herself strong All that she told him was, “Hello, I’m gone.” Then she called up a tow truck, said - “Fix up what’s wrong. I’m paying in cash, boys.” Hello, I’m gone

#Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN Fanfiction #Supernatural Fanfic #SPN Fanfic #Nash Writes

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drewsukulele · 4 years

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Travel agencies also provide another benefit to customers because they have the capability to check at airline fares from several different airlines. Often it can be a lot cheaper to fly to Chicago and change planes to catch another flight to New York City, than it is to take the direct route to NYC. Travel agencies have the capacity to see those reductions that others won't see.

Discount travel packages are usually available by grouping a set of individuals into precisely the identical vacation plan. The retired and elderly most commonly benefit from this option, but they're not the only ones. From Las Vegas, folks will join together to fill a bus for the ride to Hoover Dam or the Grand Canyon. All around the nation, people will board a bus and ride it to a casino closer to home. Tour groups frequently catch a flight to Europe and discuss a bus excursion tour around Europe.

By getting three-dozen distant strangers to share the expenses of a specific tour program, travel prices can be reduced. Costs are reduced because the tour can be priced based on the actual costs of the travel, instead of the inflated prices designed into a bundle to cover the empty seats. But, you might not want to construct your next holiday around the rigorous schedule designed by the tour operator?

What Should You Don't Need to Talk about Your Vacation?

The fact remains that there are loads of travel savings available for men and women that are somewhat more independent than the men and women who fulfill tour buses.

To pose the question as to where to have actual travel savings, lots of people in this age and day turn to the Internet travel companies for travel discounts.

The travel businesses are in a grand marketing struggle, fighting for your business. Expedia, Travelocity, Yahoo Travel, Travel.com, Orbitz, Priceline and many others are fighting for your travel dollars. But, who really provides the best travel deals?

People have lots of opinions about who has the best travel deals available online. If you listen to William Shatner, you'd look no farther than Priceline for those travel deals. However, I am here to tell you that in case you want the actual travel deals, do not stop at Priceline.

Big Dollar Advertising Requires Big Dollar Revenue Markups

Consider this. In order for Expedia, Travelocity, Yahoo Travel, Travel.com, Orbitz, and Priceline to be household names, they must spend millions on advertising to place their names into your subconscious mind.

How much of your travel package cost will be used to market their services to another person? To put it differently, how much are you overpaying for traveling, to be able to understand who these companies are?

If you know what to look for and where to look, you will find travel packages which are not as expensive than you can get with a tour operator or the top six travel companies shown above - and you won't need to talk about your trip with three dozen people you do not even know and probably won't like.

To prove my point, allow me to give you a couple examples.

On the Pacific side of Baja California Sur, in the town of Cabo San Lucas, Las Cabos, Mexico, There's a 5-Star Resort known as Hacienda del Mar Vacation Club. At this hotel, you can find a one-bedroom condo for 2 days and 7 days, and you can spend your days and nights overlooking the Pacific Ocean. At Priceline, this bundle will cost $2088.38. At Travelocity, this identical package will cost $1976.59. If you know where to shop, you can find the identical one-bedroom condo for 2 days and 7 days, for a mere $645.

Located on 600 acres in the greater San Diego, California region, Welk Resort San Diego offers exceptional accommodations in the kind of vacation rentals with many different amenities and hotel activities. You can find a one-bedroom villa package at the most complete hotel setting, which gives you a golf course and a personal theater. For an 8-day, 7-night bundle at Welk Resort, Expedia will cost $2064.43; Orbitz will cost you $2236.40, and Travelocity costs $2063. If you know where to shop, you can find this package for as little as $298.

In Conclusion

There's a little known secret that could literally save thousands of dollars on your next holiday, perhaps even measure up the value you get in exchange for your holiday dollars.

Work From Home in the Home Based Travel Business

There are basically 3 types of travel home based business opportunities.

1. Becoming a certified travel agent. 2. Marketing and Renting promotional vacation certificates. 3. Marketing travel membership clubs.

1. Becoming a travel agent requires licensing. You may book travel under the umbrella of a registered travel business using their travel agency IATAN number. After a certain quantity of sales and commissions earned you may apply for your IATA number. As a travel agent you can reserve your customers' travel using travel consolidators and marking up the cost to make a commission. Travel agents need to be bonded and licensed. Some hotel chains need the travel agent to complete their own travel brokers exam online so as to claim travel agent benefits. Becoming a home based travel agent is now a sought after home based business within the travel arena. Some members don't have the capability to use travel consolidators and may only use their own replicated travel portals sites to book travel. The commissions here are extremely low and the primary income comes from recruiting other members. Other travel agencies instruct the members to become fully fledged travel agents, where possibly the commissions on bookings can be a lot higher.

2. The certificates could be resold to businesses or businesses but generally can't be offered to the end user. Promotional items have become a part of the marketing arena and create consumer loyalty. If the promoter sells the certification to the end user a permit is required in most states and provinces in Canada. Everyone loves a fantastic bargain but many certifications have black out dates and need the spouse or partner to travel with the individual registering the certificate. Some certificates need a timeshare presentation. As a work at home business, the promotional certifications generally generate smaller commissions.

3. Some even provide concierge customer service, have access to huge databases of hotel vacations, cruises, flights, car rentals and much more. Some home based travel businesses have the additional bonus of earning money on travel booked from business portal sites. So as to resell traveling, the home based travel business must be a certified reseller of travel and should have their license number visible on their site. These discount travel memberships are popular not just as a means to make money from home for many thousands of members, but can also be popular as a real way to get deeply discounted rates for the educated and frequent traveler. The commissions on travel memberships can be extremely large, many businesses offering direct sales bonuses of over 50%.

Unlike other home based businesses and work at home opportunities, the travel business provides a product with market recognition. Everyone knows what a holiday is and what a cruise may entail. Traveling is a $7Trillion business and is still a growing market with no signs of losing steam. Additionally it is packaged as a fun market. When requested, a dream holiday is among the most desired items atop a wish list.

#travel #travel business #travel bargains #traveling #travel agency

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crazyrehablady · 4 years

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One Step Forward...2 Steps Back

I realized I havent done a great job documenting with photos the progress of the house, last night. And I think its because the 80′s Paula Abdul hit seems to be my theme: 1 step forward, 2 steps back. The contractors are making some great progress and of course uncovering additional things that need some love. For example, yesterday Sandie (who is more of my day-to-day contractor) called and said we have to replace 2 of the windows in the apartment. I sort of assumed one (it had an unsupported window A/C unit in it for years that was literally pulling the window off and out) but a second one? Sigh. It sort of breaks my heart that someone could own one of these old houses and neglect it to this level. And it breaks my budget just a little bit more.

But the good news is the progress they are making in main house is insane!! The carpenter Cruz is so talented! He has finished a vent hood, the kitchen island, the wood part of one of the closets, hung the french doors, even! I made a decision to add on to his work (and take a hit to my budget) by having him also create a built-in in the living room! I think it will be worth it in the long run as the space is SO specific and I couldn’t find any furniture that I thought would fit.

And on the “hmmmm” front, I showed up to the house the other day to see 2 nice men, covered in dirt, planting a tree in my front yard. A decent sized, nice tree. I guess the neighbor across/diagonal the street paid for it! They have a heritage live oak in their front yard who is about 150 years old and who needs friends in the area to keep healthy. So this family has paid to plant some sister trees on the street to encourage cross-pollination and health! It even comes with these 2 landscapers to come over once a week and water it. After I got over the shock (I was surprised no one asked?) I was touched. It is a gorgeous addition to my house.

Here is the new vent hood! It will be stained the same as the floors and island when it is finished. The countertops, back splash and appliances are all being replaced...and in this time of covid, do you notice my clorox wipes?

The apartment’s kitchen, all stripped down. We are getting the floors sanded and stained this week (fingers crossed) I dont think they have been touched since they were installed in the 50′s. They got the new A/C in the apartment installed, first, so no one overheats in the July heat.

Here is my brother standing behind of my gorgeous new island! (I wanted to see if this chandelier should go here or over the dining room table. The dining room won, by the way). There are 3 cut outs on the other side for the wine fridge, microwave, and garbage.

3 men - 1 tub. I know a lot of people will be offended, but I am getting rid of a claw foot tub. Dont fret, I am donating it to the Galveston Preservation org so they can sell it and make some $. But having 2 claw foot tubs is an embarrassment of riches....and well, not that practical. I think they are gorgeous, but not always easy to get in and out of so we are making a walk-in shower where this one once lived and giving some space back to make a closet in the master bedroom. Storage and closets are my theme.

#galveston galvestonrehab victorianrehab houserehab

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agilenano · 4 years

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Agilenano - News: Cheap And Reviews Mobile Home Back Door

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Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/cheap-and-reviews-mobile-home-back-door

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nightmare-afton-cosplay · 4 years

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As Seen on TV: 10 Homes for Sale That Have Starred on HGTV Shows

realtor.com; iStock

Whenever there’s a need for comfort food TV, HGTV will indulge you.

Whether it’s for buyers falling irrationally in love with the beach house of their dreams, families flush with lottery cash looking to splurge, or homeowners who dream about the satisfying crunch of demolition day, the network delivers 24/7 programming you just want to binge on. For those of us sucked in to the HGTV orbit, plenty of these faces—and places—become familiar.

Speaking of places, we’ve rounded up 10 properties for sale right now that have all had camera time on HGTV. From shows canceled long ago to some of the network’s most popular programs, these homes have served as the backdrop for tidily resolved conflicts. The result is a collection of lovely properties with something for everyone, from beach houses to a tiny home in Hawaii. And of course, all are ready for their close-up.

So put down the remote and have a look at these 10 terrific homes to see if you recognize them.

It’s a little like catching up with old friends. Do you love it? We sure do.

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12936 Bermuda Beach Dr, Galveston, TX

Price: $485,000 As seen on: ‘Beachfront Bargain Hunt’ Galveston White House: For the past five years, this sun-blasted and stylish getaway has been a wildly successful rental, bringing in more than $350,000. Built in 1967 and recently remodeled by the current owners, the two-bedroom home is being sold with all its furnishings, including a dramatic canopy bed and white slipcovered furniture in the living room. The home was featured on the first season of “Beachfront Bargain Hunt” in 2013, which highlighted the place’s gorgeous views and dreamy spaces.

Galveston, TX

realtor.com

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5022 S. Laramie Ave, Chicago, IL

Price: $269,500 As seen on: ‘Designed to Sell’ Quad level: This brick beauty in the Windy City was featured on “Designed to Sell” for its lovely angles across four levels of living space. The 2,800-square-foot home features a lower level with new floors, and there’s hardwood throughout the four-bedroom abode. In addition to an oversize garage, there’s a large patio for outdoor entertaining.

Chicago, IL

realtor.com

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4609 Del Dr N, New Hope, MN

Price: $259,900 As seen on: ‘Design on a Dime’ New Hope retro: Family-forward with personality, this property was featured on “Design on a Dime” years ago. The show left the living room transformed into a retro hangout spot, complete with bar, reminiscent of the home’s origins in 1959. The three-bedroom home also has had recent upgrades to the gutters, window wraps, and kitchen appliances.

New Hope, MN

realtor.com

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1060 Beacon Hill Dr, Corolla, NC

Price: $629,000 As seen on: ‘My Lottery Dream Home’ Beach house perfection: Features like the elevator, pool, game room, and top-floor views made this home an obvious choice for the network’s show about lottery winners picking properties. But it’s the rental income—which was just over $68,000 for 2019—that might entice those of us who don’t so much as scratch a lotto ticket.

Built in 2005, the six-bedroom house has plenty of room for friends and family to gather and also offers access to nearby Corolla Light Resort amenities.

Corolla, NC

realtor.com

Here’s the episode titled “Beach House Perfection.”

youtube

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1011 Auburn Ln, Bartlett, IL

Price: $399,000 As seen on: ‘House Hunters’ Eighties, updated: It’s easy to see why this property was a winning pick on HGTV’s longest-running show. Vaulted ceilings, an atrium, balconies, and a gorgeous backyard with room to run are just a few of the features that make this house something special. Built in 1984, the four-bedroom home has been updated throughout and even comes with its own Honeycrisp apple tree for a truly sweet incentive.

Bartlett, IL

realtor.com

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10421 Old Oregon Inlet Rd S, Nags Head, NC

Price: $940,000 As seen on: ‘Beach Hunters’ Ocean views: Capped by a loft and game room with commanding ocean views, this six-bedroom beach house has a new main kitchen on the top level as well as a new kitchenette on the middle level. In addition to access to the nearby beach, the home has a pool, hot tub, and dune deck for soaking up the summer sun with friends and family.

Nags Head, NC

realtor.com

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19-3924 Hoonanea St, Volcano, HI

Price: $175,000 As seen on: ‘Tiny Paradise’ Volcano village: This tiny home was custom-built with luxury in mind despite its petite 304 square feet. Extras like a full kitchen with farm sink, dishwasher, white marble bathroom flooring, rain shower head, and Italian marble fireplace mantel make this island getaway feel like much more than its small footprint. Solar panels and a solar hot water system mean off-the-grid life won’t be a huge chore.

Volcano, HI

realtor.com

Here’s a video tour of the tiny, but mighty, Hawaii house.

youtube

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124 E St. Paul Ave, Waukesha, WI

Price: $790,000 As seen on: ‘Rezoned’ 5-star renovation: This blacksmith shop built in the 1800s was reimagined as a live-work space on a 2005 episode of the now-canceled show. Currently, the downstairs is home to a healing spa and offices, while the upstairs serves as a gorgeous residence. Out back is a smaller stone building accessed by a charming fern-lined walkway, which can be used as an office or man cave.

Waukesha, WI

realtor.com

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104 S. Broad St, Suffolk, VA

Price: $695,000 As seen on: ‘Generation Renovation’ Darden mansion: This lavish mansion built in 1914 was featured on “Generation Renovation,” which aired from 2004 to 2006. The nine-bedroom home has been updated indoors and out, and is licensed as a bed-and-breakfast. It features Tiffany skylights, tiger oak hardwood throughout, and a grand foyer and staircase. The half-acre property also includes a carriage house with an apartment above.

Suffolk, VA

realtor.com

Here’s a video tour of the remarkable home:

youtube

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807 Poythress Rd, Chapel Hill, NC

Price: $549,000 As seen on: ‘Love It or List It’ Chatham County Craftsman: Built in 2005, this four-bedroom home was featured on the long-running “Love It or List It.” Just minutes from the University of North Carolina campus, this home features reclaimed hardwood floors, new carpet upstairs, a deck overlooking the backyard, a detached workshop, and a riding and walking trail around the property.

Chapel Hill, NC

realtor.com

The post As Seen on TV: 10 Homes for Sale That Have Starred on HGTV Shows appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

from https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/homes-for-sale-that-have-starred-on-hgtv-shows/

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