#rent to own southern california

[aloysiavirgata]

She walks in beauty, like the night

Scully in the simplest, blackest silk. Scully pale, moon-kissed, vulnerable. Scully’s hair and eyes like where the stars are born.

***

Scully comes to him when even the moon is all but asleep, like a single calla lily from a secret admirer. Unbidden. Unexpected.

Unparalleled.

“Mulder,” she says, outside his open door, in a negligee that last shade of sky blue before it goes pitch black.

Spaghetti straps and a low décolletage, though not shockingly low. Lace trim, mid thigh. It looks like something Katharine Hepburn would wear to slap you.

Not you. Him.

Specifically him.

She looks up at him through her heavy-lashed, heavy-lidded eyes.

He stares at her for his own sake because deep in his 12 year old heart, no one would ever, ever, believe that nerdy Fox Muld-

Scully takes another step closer onto the sad oatmeal carpet of his hotel room. She has such pretty ankles, she has such pretty calves. She smells like honeysuckle and hot bike tires and buttery lobster rolls and the sweetest, purest moments of his life.

She tips her face up to him, Agent Scully does, all eyes and lips and cheekbones like a geometric proof.

“God,” he says. And he means it.

***

LA belongs to the sun and Scully is a San Diego baby but he knows, he knows, she is an East Coast girl at heart. He knows she loves the first retinal purple-orange sunrises of America and the first sapphire kisses of night. He knows she loves the stars by which her father learned to navigate. He knows she loves the distant moon.

He knows she loves blue crabs and wool duffel coats and khaki shorts and aspires to East Hampton in her most secret, silent heart.

One day he will make love to her in London because she will, he knows, hark to the call of the City. She is a creature of old stone and lichen and liminal space.

She is the answer to Samson’s riddle.

***

He’d rented a jet black ‘57 Chevy Bel Air because Christ, this girl. Abductions and cancer and the most awful brutality and stolen ova and Christ; this brilliant, moonbeam girl.

She sees the car and she says nothing. But her eyes, her eyes. Her Star of India eyes.

Scully sees the car and she smiles, shy. Scully squeezes his hand.

***

He fucks her - hard, desperate - in the Chevy out over Mullholland and she cries out for him because even Saint Teresa writhed in ecstasy.

He kisses her the way a mariner kisses his homeland soil because she is his human credential. He kisses her like a Torah scroll. He shudders, murmurs I love you, I love you into the hot, sweet dark of her mouth.

***

She is bleeding, just a little. She is bleeding in the warm caress of a Southern California night. She is bleeding as though she were a virgin and maybe she is; maybe there is sex and there is fucking and there is making love and there is This.

Are you there, god? It’s me, Dana.

She touches his sleeping rosebud lips. She touches his funny nose and his beautiful jaw and she doesn’t say I love you aloud like he had because she’d learned it was shameful. She’d learned to salute.

But it’s 3 AM, neither properly morning nor properly night. It’s 3 AM and she isn’t LA pretty, not by a long shot, but she’s here with him, with Mulder, who is very LA pretty and has money besides.

She’s too short and too pale and her nose is patrician rather than cute and she gets burnt instead of tan. She doesn’t laugh in the right places at movies. She likes copper because it burns green, she likes moths more than butterflies, she can quote Jane Austen’s most acerbic lines.

She thinks of Mulder swimming hard across the Vineyard tides, Mulder with his cinnamon skin in the whipped cream breakers. Riding a red fixed-gear along Lake Tashmoo, tugging his tiny sister along. Mulder basking on the beach like a young god of summer. Mulder with his heart afire like Saint Margaret Mary Alacoque.

Her father is dead and look, look Mulder has such a tender soul even if he’s Jewish and atheist, Daddy. Mulder has eyes like fern moss.

“I love you,” she says, her eyes brimming with tears, her eyes bright as the newest stars.

[askgildaseniors]

Meet Wilson Ramirez and his rock, Saundra Marie. These two are the definition of a power couple, having gone from those scary “how will we pay rent?” days to Wilson becoming one of Hollywood's cool supporting acts. You’ve probably seen him killing it in TV shows like "Lucifer," "Agents of Shield," and "Mayans M.C." But let me tell you, the journey to the big screen was anything but easy.

We’ve all been there, right? The paycheck seems to disappear the moment it hits the bank. Wilson knows that all too well. Acting gigs weren't always in the picture – he did whatever job he could get, and rap music was his first taste of the limelight.

Wilson and Saundra’s love saga kicked off in ‘96. They made tunes with the Mary Jane Girls and the legendary Evelyn "Champagne" King. They tied the knot in 2000, and it's been them against the world since, fighting through some really tough times and even facing homelessness with California’s crazy rents.

They found their haven in Atlanta, swapping the West Coast for Southern charm and a fresh start. But life's got a funny way of throwing curveballs. Just as Wilson's star was rising in Hollywood, Suandra fell ill, and then the Pandemic hit – talk about bad timing.

Things got so tough their car became their temporary crib. They dreamed of owning a place in Greenberg, Atlanta, but life threw every financial hurdle their way. Bad credit scores, denied loans – the works.

But if you know Wilson and Saundra, you know giving up isn’t in their DNA. They tightened their belts, made some tough calls, and Wilson took a step back to reevaluate and grow. Positivity became their North Star.

So, if you’re up for a real, unfiltered, pull-no-punches story of bouncing back from the brink, you’re in the right place. Wilson and Saundra's journey is about facing the music and turning every setback into a killer comeback. Spoiler alert: It’s a rollercoaster, but who doesn’t love a wild ride to the top?

Stay tuned for Part 2 of Wilson's real-life behind-the-scenes narrative and more on Wilson's son's boxing career and dealing with high-functioning autism. We will update the description once it is available.

DISCLAIMER: The following program contains material, situations, and/or themes that may disturb some viewers. Viewer discretion is advised.

[mariacallous]

If you’re one of the millions of Americans worried about your pocketbooks and the general cost of living, you might have picked up on some good news recently: Inflation has really been cooling off this summer, as long-sticky (and long-lamented) food and energy prices continue to moderate. Some economic indicators remain stubborn, however—and they aren’t likely to abate anytime in the near future, no matter how long the Federal Reserve keeps interest rates high, what tweaks President Joe Biden makes to his trade policy, whether corporations decide themselves to slash prices on certain products, or whether Covid-battered supply chains finally get some long-needed fixes.

Other, grimmer recent headlines help to explain why. Hard rains from a tropical disruption in the Gulf have been battering Florida’s southern regions for days, leading to a rare flash-flood emergency. Another batch of storms is swirling near Texas at the moment and could form into a tropical depression, according to forecasts from the National Hurricane Center. Even if both states end up missing bigger storms now, it’s likely only a matter of time before they’re threatened again: The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration predicts that the United States will see its worst hurricane season in decades this summer.

Meanwhile, the heat waves that have enveloped Phoenix are intensifying to the point that some analysts are deeming its latest conditions “a Hurricane Katrina of heat.” Spanning outward, the Midwest and Northeast are projected to get their own extreme heat warnings as early as next week, with energy demand set to skyrocket as people turn on their air conditioners. The country has already seen 11 “billion-dollar disasters” this year, including the tornadoes that slammed Iowa just weeks ago. Meanwhile, the already strapped Federal Emergency Management Agency faces a budgetary crisis, and sales of catastrophe bonds are at an all-time high.

Now, let’s look back at the inflation readings. One of the categories remaining stubbornly high while other indicators shrink? Shelter and housing, natch, as rents and insurance stay hot—and still-elevated interest rates make construction and mortgage costs even more prohibitive. On the energy front, motor fuel may be cheapening, but fuel and electricity for home use are still pricey. Auto insurance remains a driving outlier, as I noted back in April, not least because of insurers hiking premiums for cars in especially disaster-vulnerable regions—like the South, the Southwest, and the coasts.

Look at what else is happening in those very regions when it comes to home insurance: Providers are either retreating from or dramatically heightening their prices in states like California, Texas, Florida, and New Jersey, thanks to their unique susceptibility to climate change. These states have seen supercharged extreme weather events like floods, rain bombs, heat waves, and droughts. National lawmakers fear that the insurance crises there may ultimately wreak havoc on the broader real estate sector—but that’s not the only worst-case scenario they have to worry about.

Agricultural yields for important commodities produced in those states (fruits, nuts, corn, sugar, veggies, wheat) are withering, thanks to punishing heat and soil-nutrition depletion. The supply chains through which these products usually travel are thrown off course at varying points, by storms that disrupt land and sea transportation. Preparation for these varying externalities requires supply-chain middlemen and product sellers to anticipate consequential cost increases down the line—and implement them sooner than later, in order to cover their margins.

You may have noticed some clear standouts among the contributors to May’s inflation: juices and frozen drinks (19.5 percent), along with sugar and related substitutes (6.4 percent). It’s probably not a coincidence that Florida, a significant producer of both oranges and sugar, has seen extensive damage to those exports thanks to extreme weather patterns caused by climate change as well as invasive crop diseases. Economists expect that orange juice prices will stay elevated during this hot, rainy summer.

(Incidentally, climate effects may also be influencing the current trajectory and spread of bird flu across American livestock—and you already know what that means for meat and milk prices.)

It goes beyond groceries, though. It applies to every basic building block of modern life: labor, immigration, travel, and materials for homebuilding, transportation, power generation, and necessary appliances. Climate effects have been disrupting and raising the prices of timber, copper, and rubber; even chocolate prices were skyrocketing not long ago, thanks to climate change impacts on African cocoa bean crops. The outdoor workers supplying such necessities are experiencing adverse health impacts from the brutal weather, and the recent record-breaking influxes of migrants from vulnerable countries—which, overall, have been good for the U.S. economy—are in part a response to climate damages in their home nations.

The climate price hikes show up in other ways as well. There’s a lot of housing near the coasts, in the Gulf regions and Northeast specifically; Americans love their beaches and their big houses. Turns out, even with generous (very generous) monetary backstops from the federal government, it’s expensive to build such elaborate manors and keep having to rebuild them when increasingly intense and frequent storms hit—which is why private insurers don’t want to keep having to deal with that anymore, and the costs are handed off to taxpayers.

When all the economic indicators that take highest priority in Americans’ heads are in such volatile motion thanks to climate change, it may be time to reconsider how traditional economics work and how we perceive their effects. It’s no longer a time when extreme weather was rarer and more predictable; its force and reasoning aren’t beyond our capacity to aptly monitor, but they’re certainly more difficult to track. You can’t stretch out the easiest economic model to fix that. And you can’t keep ignoring the clear links between our current weather hellscape, climate change, and our everyday goods.

Thankfully, some actors are finally, belatedly taking a new approach. The reinsurance company Swiss Re has acknowledged that its industry fails to aptly factor disaster and climate risks into its calculations, and is working to overhaul its equations. Advances in artificial intelligence, energy-intensive though they may be, are helping to improve extreme-weather predictions and risk forecasts. At the state level, insurers are pushing back against local policies that bafflingly forbid them from pricing climate risks into their models, and Florida has new legislation requiring more transparency in the housing market around regional flooding histories. New York legislators are attempting to ban insurers from backstopping the very fossil-fuel industry that’s contributed to so much of their ongoing crisis.

After all, we’re no longer in a world where climate change affects the economy, or where voters prioritizing economic or inflationary concerns are responding to something distinct from climate change—we’re in a world where climate change is the economy.

[destinyc1020]

We can admit that it's crazy to have people that hate the relationship of TZ, particularly when they claim to be a fan of one of them. But we also have to admit that there are some tomdayas that take it too far. Like the bunch of anons that want Z to fire Darnell so that he's no longer her live-in assistant. They just don't understand that most rich people have live-in staff and that has nothing to do with their romantic relationships. They live in huge houses and they can afford to have rooms for their closest staff. Or that get mad if Tom and/or Z are working and they can't be temporarily in the same place. Tom and Z are the ones in the relationship and they are the ones that should decide how to conduct it. They both have very close friends and family that can offer them advice. It's not worth it to get mad about the relationship of someone that doesn't know us

Yea Anon, it's true, even some shippers can take things a bit too far at times, and be a bit much, or think that things should be run a certain way, or feel that they should dictate Tom or Z's life, but that's crossing a line imo.

At the end of the day, someone's decision is their own decision, and we have to respect it. We may not always LIKE it, but we have to at least respect that they have their own autonomy and usually know each other better than any of us do. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Re: Darnell...

I will NEVER understand some fans and their complaints against Darnell working for Z. Shoooot..... LISTENNNN....If Darnell EVER decided to leave working for Zendaya, I would GLADLY take Darnell's spot, you hear me?? 😂😅

Let's see....uhhhh.....

I would get to live in a lovely mansion of a home in gorgeous sunny Southern California without having to pay a fraction of what the rent costs out there (I know Zendaya is NOT charging him the amount of rent that a landlord would charge in LA)

I would have job security (she's ALWAYS going to work and need an assistant)

I'd be able to fly all over the world (sometimes even on a private jet) for Zendaya's work events 😁✈️

I would get to meet, schmooze and hobnob with some of the biggest actresses and hottest actors in town 😌 💅🏽

I'd get to be on movie sets, watch how films are made (my DREAM!! 😁) and meet some really cool and amazing people! 😎

I'd have the finest of everything coz Zendaya has the finest of everything (her accommodations are MY accommodations)

Did I mention that I wouldn't have to worry about a roof over my head?? 😅

I'd get to spend lots of time with Tom lol 😍😍

Oh, and I'd be getting PAID 💰

Don't get me wrong, being an assistant of a Hollywood actor or actress is a LOT of hard work, but you also get many perks, and it's a pretty cool job imo. 😉

Idk why fans knock Darnell's hustle. He makes good money (I'm sure), and he does an honest day's hard work. 🤷🏾‍♀️ Why would you leave your employer if you're already getting so many benefits?

I don't understand why fans want Darnell to leave his good job so bad? 🥴

[deathlygristly]

I read that the majority of the 117 people who move to my city a day come from California, New York, and Virginia.

I told the spousal person this and he said oh yeah, I knew that. I asked him if it was because he works at the library and he said yeah, that he didn't really know about Virginia but it makes sense, being our neighbor to the north, but that he sees a lot of California and New York IDs at work.

So if I whine a bit sometimes about transplants, that's where they're coming from. Also he said that yeah, the New Yorkers and the Californians are the people who think our rent is cheap. While of course they're driving rent up for the people who already lived here, but so it goes.

And as I've said before - I love my city and I'm glad to see it grow and for our economy to do well and all that. Just it does annoy me when people move here and then look down on their new home. If you want to come and share your culture that's awesome and we'll go to your restaurants and your festivals and we'll learn about you and we'll welcome you. I mean, the community raised $60K during the Covid lockdowns so the immigrant-owned Vietnamese restaurant in our neighborhood could stay open.

If you want to come and look down on our culture, well...that does grate a bit.

Okay now I'm reading an article about the Vietnamese restaurant and an interview with the owner and I'm about to cry.

"I didn't have opportunities in Vietnam, so I came here," Nguyen said in the Southern Foodways oral history project. "This restaurant gave me the social skills that I have now, and they helped me integrate with other people so that I understood their culture. And I wanted them to understand my culture, too."

Another article that points out the issues I saw in the reviews:

Look on Yelp. Almost every review is four or five stars and includes some variation on "great food," "amazing service," "scary neighborhood." The "scary neighborhood" comments presumably come from folks who don't often get out of the suburbs, but the fact that even those people are willing to "brave" the "scary" 'hood shows how well-loved Lang Van is.

[raisedbythetv89]

Reason number 1 million of why Rob Thomas’s execution of a “noir” veronica mars failed horrendously:

In the “Drinking the Cool-aide” episode a $5,000 bonus would have been enough for them to MOVE (an insanely expensive endeavor on it’s own let alone the increase in rent)

And literally the VERY. NEXT. EPISODE. “Echolls Family Christmas” Veronica wants to get her father a THREE THOUSAND DOLLAR christmas present 😭 and decides that’s what she’ll spend her poker game winnings on.

That’s just the DUMBEST fucking thing I’ve ever heard on both counts!!! Even in the early 2000’s a single bonus payment of $5,000 would not be enough to upgrade your housing situation on southern California!

And second!! Even in my best financial situations (which do varying spending so much time as a server/bartender) but still are supposedly better than Keith and Veronica’s are presented (“tonight, we eat like the lower middle class to which we aspire”) I have never in my life spent anywhere close to that amount of money on a Christmas present for myself or a loved one. And while yes, everyone needs to treat themselves no matter what your financial situation is because you deserve a treat. Everyone needs fun and special things in their life but $3,000 worth of a fun thing?? On ONE present that would also take Keith out of work for an entire week and if he’s chasing a bail jumper potentially couldn’t even go????!!!!

IT MAKE ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE 😭😭😭😭

For things to successfully be noir they need to be REALISTIC, hyper realistic. And Rob Thomas clearly has zero real world knowledge about literally anything he writes about AND IT SHOWS and I could cry about how popular this show was/is with someone at the helm who truly was just head empty no thoughts just vibes. Citing sources?? Rob has never heard of her. Consulting experts? HE DOESNT KNOW HER 😭

[a-room-of-my-own]

Brittney Pearson, 37, told DailyMail.com that she was threatened with legal action by the prospective parents after receiving a breast cancer diagnosis

The mother-of-four, from Sacramento, said she felt like 'a rented-out uterus'

A California mother has claimed she was told to terminate her surrogate pregnancy at 24 weeks by the child's prospective fathers after she was diagnosed with breast cancer.

Brittney Pearson, 37, from Sacramento told DailyMail.com that she was diagnosed with breast cancer in May at 22 weeks.

She says that after a full body MRI revealed the extent of the disease, the gay couple who were paying her to carry their child used legal threats to pressure her into terminating the pregnancy.

Initially, Pearson claims, doctors at Sutter Health Medical Centre in Sacramento, believed she would be able to have a form of chemotherapy treatment compatible with pregnancy, and would then be induced at 34 weeks gestation.

The prospective fathers, who haven't been named but are from Southern California, were allegedly happy for her to receive treatment and continue with the pregnancy.

However, when medics realized the HER2+ cancer had spread further than expected and that more aggressive chemo would be needed to combat it, relations between Pearson and the prospective parents broke down.

The unnamed gay couple, Pearson claims, wanted the baby 'immediately terminated' and 'erased' as they believed it had no chance at life.

They did not want a baby born before 34 weeks because they allegedly feared the infant would have considerable health problems, it is claimed.

The Center for Bioethics and Culture Network, an anti-surrogacy group which first reported on Pearson's case, claims the prospective fathers also sought to bar Pearson from carrying the child to term, then giving it up for adoption.

They're said to have told her that they didn't want their 'DNA out there', being raised by someone else. DailyMail.com has been unable to contact the prospective dads to verify that claim.

Pearson told DailyMail.com of the distress she felt after the prospective fathers allegedly 'threatened everyone they could with a lawsuit' including Pearson, her agency and Sutter Health.

At one point, she claims, her oncology team, after being threatened with legal action, said they were not sure they could give her chemo and would need to consult their own lawyers.

'It was frustrating because I wanted to give them a family' she told DailyMail.com, 'they said they cared but they didn’t. I felt betrayed and heartbroken.'

The mother-of-four, who had already successfully completed one round of surrogacy before, said she was left feeling like 'a rented-out uterus'.

'The first thing I thought after I was diagnosed was I want to keep this baby safe and bring it earthside' she said.

'I would have been there, I would have given him every chance of survival , I had people ready to help' she claimed.

Pearson told DailyMail.com she found a hospital that would deliver her baby, but would not elaborate on whether or not the procedure was inducement or termination, and whether or not the fetus was born alive.

She would only confirm that it has since died.

'The baby was born on Father’s Day, my mother got to hold him and take pictures but he did not survive' she explained.

Pearson felt further upset by the prospective parents decision to take the fetus' remains and cremate them.

'I would have done things differently, I didn't understand it since they didn't see him as a baby at all.'

Pearson said she is speaking out about her experience because she 'never wants anyone else to feel like this'.

Despite her harrowing account she has not changed her mind about surrogacy: 'I wouldn't do it again, but I still think surrogacy has a great time and place but [prospective] families need to be screened a little more.'

Pearson said her surrogacy agency, who she did not want to name, were 'very supportive and still are' but that the fathers had not contacted her since she had the baby.

Jennifer Lahl, president of The center for Bioethics and Culture Network said of the case: 'I often say, there are plenty of reasons to get people to see how surrogacy is wrong, is harmful, and is bad for women and for children.

'This case highlights many of the problems with contracted, largely commercial, pregnancy.'

Pearson, who has four of her own children 3, 5, 12 and 13 years-old, is currently unable to work while receiving treatment.

Her sisters Courtney and Ashley Pearson set up a Go Fund Me page to accept donations to see her through this difficult time.

'Britt was recently diagnosed with HER2+ breast cancer. Britt and her family need our love and support during this heartbreaking time' the sisters wrote.

Adding: 'She is the main provider for her family of 6 and is unable to work during her cancer treatments. Please help share this so that they won’t have any added stress!'

Sutter Health declined to comment when approached by DailyMail.com.

[stereopticons]

get to know me, parts 1, 2, and 3 (or, way too much information about me all in one post)

Thanks for the tags, @hippolotamus (x2), @ramonaflow @jettestar @carolrain

last song: southern california wants to be western new york - dar williams

favorite color: red

currently watching: I've been rewatching boy meets world (as one does), almost done though, so I'm gonna have to figure out if I'm allowed to watch something new or not

last movie: I think Titanic because it was leaving Netflix again

sweet/spicy/savory: sweet!

relationship status: married

current obsession: the schitt's creek obsession is persistent and ongoing

last thing you googled: it was remote copywriter jobs but not for me lol

Nicknames: snapdragon, captain chaos, MJ

Zodiac: gemini

Height: extremely average

Fav music: this is a complicated question because I like so many things? I mean, if you've followed me for any length of time, you know I love the Mountain Goats and also musicals and Noah but also many things in between and beyond.

Followers: 300ish?

Following: that would require me to look and I don't wanna. it's somewhere between 200 and 300.

Do you get asks: sometimes, but mostly when I'm doing an ask game of some kind, other than my treasured Ghost Friend asks.

Amount of sleep: theoretically like 7 hours but I know I don't ever sleep straight through the night

What are you wearing: black nevermore academy shirt and purple plaid leggings

Dream job: i still dream about being a musician for broadway shows and/or owning a recording studio. and opening a bookstore/cafe.

Languages: English, I took AP German in HS and French in college and can fumble my way through reading those and basic Spanish and a little bit of Irish but I'm not good at speaking or listening. I also started learning Japanese on Duolingo.

Random facts: i love making weirdly specific playlists and if the mood strikes, i may make one for your weird interest. Some recent ones are songs about shipwrecks and fifty us states (now I want to make a canadian province one. tbd on that)

Aesthetic: cottagecore goth/recovering gifted-band-theater kid

1 Three ships: David/Patrick, Buddie, Alex/Henry

2 First ever ship: The first one I ever actively shipped was Mark/Roger from Rent

3 Last Song: case of you by k.d. lang

4 Last movie: still Titanic.

5 Currently reading: Still working on the second book in the The Raven Cycle (The Dream Thieves).

6 Currently watching: Still BMW.

7 Currently consuming: tea

8 Currently craving: A nap, a vacation, and some really good ramen

I am not tagging anyone because I'm very late, but if you too would like to overshare on the internet, please consider this your tag!

[santacarlatourism]

summer break for vigilantes - pt. 1, welcome to santa carla

This fic is also posted to my Ao3 Rating: Mature Pairing: Poly Lost Boys x (Nonbinary) Reader Chapter word Count: 2.6k Fic Warnings: Major (OC) character death, stalking, manipulation canon-typical depictions of violence, death, sex, drug use, etc. Reader is nonbinary but sometimes assumed as female by those who don’t know them. [Subject to updating/change] Summary: You: Sheltered high-school graduate who's moved several thousand miles to Santa Carla. Reason? One-part college, one-part freedom. Michelle: Your rebellious, impulsive, and passionate roommate, who your parents don't know you have. Eric: Michelle's boyfriend, who goes missing within the first week of your arrival in town. The murder capital of the world, as its known by the locals; Santa Carla's police department seems woefully either unequipped or unconcerned with the high rate of missing person's cases in town. So when your roommate's boyfriend goes missing in the weeks leading up to the Emerson's arrival, the two of you take matters into your own hands to try and piece together the mysterious circumstances under which he vanished. Along the way, you keep finding yourself in the path of a local biker gang that you want little to do with. [Next Part]

College, for Y/N, had represented a safe haven. A paradise of sorts that they spent their high school years diligently working towards. A combination of good grades and spotless behavior had reaped rewards: Y/N had been able to convince their parents to let them take advantage of a scholarship that allowed them to move away from small town, southern nowhere, to attend college in San Jose, California.

And sure, San Jose was a bit of a commute from the cheap apartment Y/N managed to acquire in Santa Carla, but the drive was under an hour and rent and gas were cheap enough at the time. And since they would only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, it made everything rather tolerable.

The first day waking up in their apartment after their parents had gone home– Y/N’s first time waking up alone– was a bit nerve unsettling. They had never really lived alone before, even if it would only be for a few hours. They didn’t realize how late they’d woken up, but after the hassle of getting the key from the leasing office and moving their belongings inside the previous day, it made sense that they’d sleep in. It wasn’t every day that you moved for the first time in your life, after all.

Y/N sighed, stretching: their roommate was supposed to arrive sometime today, and so the place wouldn’t be empty for long. They hoped they would like Michelle for the whole semester as much as they had the first time the two met, and in the discreet phone conversations the two had had together. To back out of the lease would involve Y/N having to confess to their parents that they had gotten a roommate without telling them, and that would be a whole can of worms. But living alone as a college student was hard, Y/N had justified to themself. They had money saved up from working during high school and through the summers, and in the form of graduation gifts, but they knew that would go a lot further if they were only paying half the rent and utilities. Especially since they jumped on the opportunity to go on and move in June, rather than waiting till the start of school in September.

And besides, Michelle was cool. Michelle was, Y/N had reasoned before making the official decision, the kind of person they needed in college. Someone who could help them loosen up, really see the world outside of their small hometown. A place that, should the next four years treat them kindly, Y/N hoped to never have to move back to.

They shuffled to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, taking the place in. The apartment was pretty sparse at the moment, but Michelle had promised that her boyfriend had a truck and would help them find some furniture at thrift stores. Or via dumpster diving.

“Isn’t that like… illegal?” Y/N had asked, with a slightly worried look.

In response Michelle had just laughed. “Trust me. No one around Santa Carla cares if you pull something out of the trash.”

In the present, Y/N sighed because they hoped Michelle had been right. That would make getting some chairs a whole lot fucking easier.

It was about one in the afternoon before the door finally swung open. “Y/N! I’m home!” Called an elated voice.

Y/N, who had by then retreated back to the only sitting surface in the house they had, their bed, emerged again from their room to greet their roommate. “Michelle!” They greeted as the girl grabbed them up in a big hug.

“Y/N, this is my boyfriend, Eric. He’s brought his truck and everything, if you’re ready to actually fill this place up.”

Y/N waved at Eric, who nodded back. He seemed nice enough. And that was a tempting offer. “Fuck yeah. Let’s ride around,” They agreed to Michelle’s delight.

Riding around town with the two, Y/N would find, also provided them an opportunity to see the parts of Santa Carla they would have actively tried to hide from their parents. That’s not to say Santa Carla was pleasant on a surface level glance by any means, but as life-long citizens it was apparent that Michelle and Eric knew their way around.

“This place always has the best stuff,” Michelle declared, looking over the passenger’s seat at Y/N with a grin as Eric’s truck pulled up to a Kmart that was in severe need of a pressure washing, and then went around to the back.

Y/N squirmed in their seat. “And you’re sure this is fine to do in broad daylight?”

“Of course,” Eric chimed in. “Trust me, this place has three employees working on a good day, and at least two of them are always doped up. They don’t care.”

Y/N found that odd. The Kmart back home was a rather big deal, but they figured in a city like this– and this close to somewhere like San Francisco– maybe people just had better options for shopping. So they tried to swallow their worry as the truck pulled up to the dumpster.

Michelle and Eric seemed attuned to Y/N’s nerves, even if the two felt them unfounded, and were at least somewhat compassionate, as Michelle spoke: “Eric and I will climb in and hand stuff out to you. Just make sure it gets into the bed without getting broken.”

“I can do that.” Not having to climb into a dumpster seemed like a good course of action to them. Especially on a day like today: As the three opened the truck door and got out, the heat of the sun mixing with the scent of the dumpster created quite an unpleasant smell even if it was more filled with unsold furniture than foodstuffs. And so over the course of the next thirty or so minutes, they helped load some chairs, an end table, a DVD player, and a couch (piece by piece, with Eric climbing out halfway through lifting it to help load it up). The only thing they actually ended up going inside to purchase was a TV for that DVD player, which ended up relatively cheap with all three of them putting money into it.

“See! And people would spend a good couple hundred on this much good furniture,” Michelle said as they walked through the parking lot back to the truck, which Eric had brought around front. “And we got almost all of it for free.”

“You’re pretty strong,” Eric commented to Y/N, hopping in the driver’s seat as they and Michelle also climbed in. “Michelle can help toss light things out but usually can’t help me lift.”

“Yeah, because that’s what I have you for,” Michelle laughed. “Anyways, we’re making good on time. We can all unload this shit, shower off, and then hit up the Boardwalk tonight. It’s your first night in Santa Carla, Y/N!” Michelle looked over her shoulder at her friend. “We have to take you to the Boardwalk.

Y/N couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah?” Admittedly, they’d been hoping to get to see it sometime within the next few days. The only amusement park they’d ever gotten to go to before was Opryland, and they’d never been on a beach before. The ocean, they imagined, was quite different from going out on the river with their cousins. After unloading, a series of quick showers, and a fifteen minute drive, and soon Y/N was at the boardwalk with Eric and Michelle.

The sun was nearly set by that point, and so the lights around the rides and various signs had been switched on. Y/N grinned with delight. It was so big! Their eyes darted– which way to go first? They didn’t have long to think, though, before Michelle was pulling them towards the roller coaster which, all things considered, was not a bad way to start their evening. “Come on, you’re gonna love it.”

“But we didn’t get our ride tickets,” Y/N said, looking at the ticket booth behind them that sat at the boardwalk’s entrance.

“Don’t gotta,” Eric shrugged, pulling a wallet out of his pocket that had a good few tickets in it. “I come up here to see the music some nights. Pick up tickets I spot on the ground. People get tipsy or distracted and trop them all the time.”

The three had arrived just as the Friday night crowd was starting to trickle in, before pouring in, so there wasn’t a huge wait for the coaster when they got in line. By the time they got off, though, it was completely dark out. Michelle already had five other rides mentally lined up that they just had to take Y/N on. By the end of the hour, the three were stumbling off the rotor ride and Y/N was stumbling along. “You okay?” Michelle asked, laughing, arm draped around Y/N’s waist to help steady them.

“It’s just been awhile since I’ve been on anything like that,” Y/N admitted, laughing nervously. “A little motion sick–”

“Ew, well, keep it in,” Michelle teased, grinning at Y/N. At this point Michelle was a little tipsy, and Y/N was a little dizzy, and as a result the two almost stumbled right into a group before Eric grabbed them to pull them back.

“Fuck, last time I buy you beer. Watch where you’re going,” Eric said to Michelle, half teasing. Then he looked up at the guys before them and tensed, just a little. “Sorry about them.”

Y/N swallowed, gaze pulled forward as well. They weren’t the tallest guys in the world– only one, it looked like, beat six feet of height. But they had a big presence about them all: long and shaggy haircuts, predominately black attire, the way they were looking at Y/N, Michelle, and Eric like they were prey.

“It’s all right,” The one with the shorter, straighter blonde hair at the front of the group spoke. “Had a bit too much?” He asked, making eye contact with Y/N. He had blue eyes in the icy-cold sort of way and it made Y/N want to shiver, but they didn’t.

“This one? Nah,” Michelle laughed, before Y/N could even fail to answer the question. “Just a bit of a rough time riding the Demon Hole.”

This earned a snicker from the other guys behind the platinum blonde; he himself smiled in a way that looked almost pitying. “Well, then, I’d invite you to grab a bite with us, but you probably don’t want anything on your stomach right now.” He glanced from Y/N back to the other two– “Later.”

With that, the four guys moved past the three of them. Y/N, being far less inebriated than Michelle, noticed Eric’s tension. “You know them?” They asked, after a moment.

“Yeah, they’re some bikers known for causing trouble on the boardwalk. Don’t know how many times they’ve been kicked off,” Eric frowned, “When Michelle almost crashed you both into them I was worried they were going to try and start shit,” He gave his girlfriend a disapproving nudge.

She whined in response. “You know I don’t hold my beer well, babe.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should learn how to if you’re going to drink in public.”

Y/N looked back over their shoulder again, as they watched the boys disappear into the crowd. They’d already gotten the impression that Eric and Michelle didn’t mind getting into a bit of mischievous trouble– those four must be actual bad news, if they were avoiding them.

Despite Eric’s annoyance he did grab Michelle another beer, which she was now working on as the three continued down the boardwalk. Y/N’s motion sickness had mostly subsided, causing their appetite to come back. “Any food nearby?” They asked.

“Yeah, there’s a stand that sells nachos a bit further down,” Eric replied, “Hungry?”

Y/N nodded. “Oh, shit, why don’t you grab us a movie to rent? Break in that new TV. Eric and I could run ahead and get the food,” Michelle suggested. “I would come with you, but…” She held up her beer can. The video store they were in front of had a NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINKS sign plastered on the glass. Y/N assumed it was one of those signs that was put up following an inciting incident.

With a bit of an indulgent smile, Y/N agreed. “Sure, yeah. Can’t promise I’ll pick something you like though,” They pointed out, as they waved a temporary goodbye and dipped inside the video store. It was nice, momentarily being out of the packed boardwalk crowds. Y/N wondered if it was always this busy on Friday nights or if there were simply a lot of high schoolers and recent graduates celebrating the start of summer. They slowly looked around, trying to get a feel for the store– were the tapes organized alphabetically, or perhaps by genre first? Where the new releases were, and all that–

“Can I help you find something in particular?” A man behind the counter asked, leaning forward.

Y/N looked back to the center of the store, smiling politely at him and slowly stepping up to the counter across the bright and surprisingly clean carpet, “Oh, not really, um, my friends just asked me to come in and pick out a movie.”

“Ah, yes. Friends.” The man glanced up to the glass door. It took a moment for Y/N to realize he was indicating that he had seen Y/N with those aforementioned friends outside. “Your friends do have a tendency for getting into a bit of trouble, you know,” He raised his eyebrows a little, and it appeared that he was trying to be good-natured even while reprimanding Y/N’s choice in company. “You seem like an honest individual, though. More so than many of the sorts I usually see around Santa Carla.” Y/N presumed this was in part based off of their appearance. While they actually quite admired many of the black outfits and colored hair and chains they’d seen worn around the boardwalk, they had just been dropped off by parents that had quite conservative ideas about dress and conduct. So their closet wasn’t exactly full of pieces that Y/N found more exciting. “A little bit of an accent too, are you new here?”

Y/N didn’t think their accent was all that thick, but they supposed it wasn’t surprising that over a thousand miles would make a difference in the way one spoke. Not thick for a rural town might be quite thick for a city like Santa Carla. “I am, yes. I’m going to college over in San Jose.”

“A college student. Quite impressive,” The man behind the counter smiled, seeming pleased. “I’m Max,” He extended a hand over the counter to shake, which Y/N took and introduced themself in turn. “Well, if you happen to be in the market for a job, pay for those textbooks, we are usually hiring,” Max said.

Y/N smiled. “I’ll think about it.” They didn’t want to commit to a job they were being offered by a total stranger on their first week in town– but also didn’t want to completely ruin the opportunity.

Max smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get back to picking your movie out– I’m sure you don’t want to spend all night talking to an old geezer like myself. Just do be careful, the sorts of people you associate with around here,” He gave Y/N a knowing look, as if somehow he was acutely aware of their earlier dumpster diving activities.

“I will.” Y/N nodded, before dipping off to peer through the racks of VHS tapes. Maybe they had a copy of Labyrinth.

[virtie333]

8, 14, & 36 on the talk about game.

8: Talk about the thing you are most proud of.

That's a hard one. I've been proud of different things throughout my life, but it's hard to think of one thing that really stuck with me through the years. I think one thing I am truly proud of is that I became the first in a long line of horse lovers in my immediate family to actually own a horse of my own. Growing up in a lower-middle class family that was always struggling, I set out at age 28 to fulfil my childhood dream all on my own. I know my mom and dad were pretty proud of me, too. My mom told me, and my dad bragged about me to his friends (I found out later). One of the things my sister got after me about after my mom died was that I should never had 'gotten into horses.' She said a lot of horrible stuff, but it was that one thing that really ruined my trust in her because it's the one thing I will never regret.

14: Talk about a vacation.

My second visit to California. My friends and I got together and rented a house on Venice Beach. We slept late, at brunch at the Sidewalk Cafe, did touristy stuff (my friend from England and her daughter got a snorkeling lesson), relaxed on the beach, went to Universal Studios and Hollywood Blvd. It was the most relaxing, carefree vacation I've ever had. I love Southern California, but I could never live there! So glad I have friends that do so I can visit!

36: Talk about your guilty pleasures.

Uhmmm fanfiction of course, especially the smut. When I first started writing (and reading) X-Files fanfiction, I worked my way into the smut. I read romance novels, so it wasn't a huge leap. However, later in my writing, I started teaching catechism to High Schoolers at my church. Of course, I backed off the heavy stuff, and eventually left it behind completely. But you know what? I'm 50 now, still single, no serious relationships in my future, and I'm not in charge of kids in church anymore. So, I let myself get pulled in again and doing my best to not let it be a 'guilty' pleasure (though there will probably always be some! LOL)

[rabbitcruiser]

Morro Rock Ecological Preserve, CA (No. 8)

With an oceanfront parking lot located directly under the shadow of awe-inspiring Morro Rock, this popular surf spot is as close to the rock as it gets. Although technically part of Morro Strand, this beach is often referred to as Morro Rock Beach by locals and travelers alike, for reasons that will become obvious the moment you arrive. Easily stroll the base of Morro Rock, keeping an eye out for seabirds (fun fact: the rock is the last of “the nine sisters,” or volcanic mountains that run from the Central Coast to Southern California). Today, Morro Rock is a historic landmark and bird sanctuary home to Peregrine Falcons, Seagulls and all manner of waterfowl which thrive along the rocky landscape. Surfers, picnickers, kite-flyers and sunbathers flock to the beach located just north of the rock, while the south side—protected by the harbor—is popular among kayakers and fishing enthusiasts. Planning on staying in San Simeon or Cambria, two popular Central Coast kayaking destinations in their own right? We encourage you to bring your kayak south to Morro Bay for a unique experience unlike what you’ve already enjoyed. While you might see whales and elephant seals to the north on Highway 1, Morro Bay features its own menagerie of critters, including friendly harbor seals and a year-round otter population that can be observed regularly snacking, napping, and communing among Morro Bay’s plentiful kelp beds.

Similarly, surfers staying in Cayucos love the close proximity to Morro Rock—known as one of the most popular surf spots on the Central Coast. Why not rent a board and catch a few iconic waves for yourself? Depending on the swell, you can also paddle across the harbor side to Sand Spit beach (also accessible from the Los Osos side). Large waves are common here, so it’s important to watch kids while they play in the water (lifeguards are staffed from Memorial Day Labor Day from 10am-6pm). Please note that dogs must be on-leash in this area, but they are welcome to roam freely at the Morro Bay Dog Beach, which stretches six miles north to dog-friendly town Cayucos. With its vast, sandy beach and views of Morro Rock in the distance, you’ll enjoy the walk just as much as your pup. Lastly, parking at Morro Rock Beach is a breeze: just take your pick of spots in this massive parking lot with bathrooms and outdoor showers to clean off sandy toes. Plus, parking wraps south of the rock, providing even more convenience for busy days (you’ll enjoy even greater views of the rock, local wildlife, and glittering back bay as you park the car). That’s a true win-win!

Source

[naoa-ao3]

It Never Rains in Southern California

Termination was an ugly business.

Ugly for the one getting the sack and the Watchers Council had little use for drawn out or contested terminations.

Wesley had gotten a letter and a phone call.

The letter had been from the Council and the phone call had come from his father. Both had been brief and each had left him with an empty pit in his stomach and no uncertainty of his own worthlessness.

His disgrace with the Council was so great that they hadn't even sent him a ticket home and he had been stuck between the rent on his leased place and affording a plane ticket.

He hadn't even asked his father for help. Hadn't gotten in more than a few mumbled words on the phone. There had been a lot about his failures and the disappointments and shame he had wrought. That had been the bulk of it.

With the Mayor defeated and the children graduated time seemed to have come to a stand still.

Cordelia had left Sunnydale almost immediately and with the school gone the others were no longer forced to include him in their meetings.

Wesley had eventually decided to leave town too.

He'd thought of stopping and speaking to Giles but in the end he hadn't seen much use in it. Giles hadn't particularly liked him and he supposed now that some of that had been his own fault. He had been pompous and rude but then they hadn't exactly made things easy for him either and Giles had been there the whole time making sure no one took him seriously.

The battle with the Mayor had been hell on earth but it had prevented a more real kind of hell from spreading and shamefully he couldn't say that he remembered more than the beginning. He'd been knocked unconscious almost immediately.

And now he was on the road, no money to rent a car and crammed onto a buss with fifteen or so other people.

The truth was he did have some cash but with no employment in the foreseeable future he was choosing to be careful with it. A bus was cheaper than a car and easier for him too at this point.

He slept most of the way and woke up outside of Los Angeles to the sound of people clamoring off of the bus.

It was dark out as he checked his watch and squinted through the grimy window at the world outside. The city was in the distance so why had they stopped?

He looked around and saw that it was just him and an old woman on the bus. Everyone else was outside.

"Have we broken down?" He asked her.

She looked at him, wrapped in a coat that didn't agree with the weather outside and didn't answer.

Curious, he rose and exited the bus, looking for the driver in the small throng of people. There was no smoke coming from the bus and he saw now they were parked outside of a small rest stop.

People were lighting cigarettes around him and stretching their legs but he couldn't tell which was the driver and it made him uneasy stopping like this. There were too many things in the night the others weren't thinking of.

The bus driver is smoking and so he heads to the rest stop and it's bathroom, ancient linoleum cracked under foot and sink hazardous to touch.

He feels humbled in a way. Like someone in the movies catching a bus into L.A..

It's not where he's ever seen himself ending up but here he is.

On the outskirts of a glowing monolith, L.A. with her Boulevards and Rows. Her Hills and Valleys.

He's too ashamed to go home.

He washes his hands despite the hazardous sink and stares at himself in the dirty mirror.

He's fucked up. He's fucked up so bad and the worst part is he'll think it again in the future and it will be much worse but right now this is the most he's ever fucked up and he feel's sick with it. Stepped on.

All of his school down the drain. . . years of studying and researching. . . of trying to prove himself and be good enough. . . he'd never felt good enough and now he knew he wasn't.

He didn't even know what he was going to do in L.A..

He doesn't dry his hands on the towel that's got what looks like a few years on it already and shakes them out as he leaves the bathroom.

Outside he doesn't see the others and looks around, feeling a tingling sensation creep up his spine.

It's dead silent out and there's no wind.

He pulls his jacket around him, finding it more suitable for the climate now and returns to the bus, seeing no one on it.

The he looks down spots a cigarette butt still glowing in the dirt. . . there's a few of them. . . all glittering like little stars.

He looks up and feels his skin break out in goosebumps as he steps onto the bus.

The old woman is still there, sitting in her coat with her hands in her lap, clutching a handbag that's nearly as old as she is. "

"What's happened to everyone?" He asks.

She looks up and shifts slightly, pointing out the window. "They all went out there." She say's in a croaked voice.

He looks where she's pointing.

Where the cigarette butts are laying.

"I afraid I just came form out there, are you alright?"

She shifts again and lowers her arm, looking at him with ancient eyes. "You're the last." She breaths.

He blinks and then realizes he very much does not want to be on the bus at this moment.

He stumbles backwards but she's rising out of her seat, coat rustling as she stands impossibly tall in the cramped, little, bus.

The doors open and he falls into the dirt and the cigarette butts, scampering away and to his feet and noticing a strange kind of blackness on his hands as he runs.

It's a demon. It's some kind of demon and it killed everyone else on the bus.

He runs for the rest stop and flings himself into the bathroom, chest heaving and heart hammering.

He doesn't know if the old woman has followed him yet but he'll need to know in a second.

Think, he tells himself. . . willing the gears in his mind to work. He knows what this is. Yes it's a demon obviously but he knows. . . he's read about this.

It's a Resamun. . . it eats travelers. . . it's a shap shifting demon. . .

He can almost picture the text book, the pages. . .

It's usually noncorporeal except when it eats. . . it hides in groups of travelers. . . it's vulnerable to Iron and. . .

Or did it haunt rest stops and places like this?

Maybe it could do both. . . he'll look it up after he remembers what it's vulnerable to.

This is a basic level demon.

He was just unprepared.

Like he'd been the entire time in Sunnydale.

He shuts his eyes and thinks hard.

The demon is weak against water. People can't travel in the rain and so neither could it even if the times had changed that some but this is Southern California. . . it never rains here.

He stares around him and his eyes land on the sink. The thing will dissolve if he get's it wet, maybe even die.

He has to get the water to the demon and his mind works furiously to devise a way. He has to act soon. The thing will be after him.

He's the last one.

He thinks of the cigarette butts in the grass and wonders if he should have known sooner. If he should have guessed at all. If those smoldering butts are all his fault.

He finds a bottle of cleaning solution under the end sink and dumps it down the drain, refilling it with water and stepping back outside.

The old woman is in the bus door, impossibly tall in her coat.

He straightens his shirt and walks towards her. "You're a Resamun demon." He says, lifting his chin slightly.

He has the upper hand now.

"You absorbed all of them, didn't you?"

The old woman steps off the bus and seems to grow a little as she shuffles towards him but she's slow and so he opens the jug.

He could warn her, tell her what he's going to do but he doesn't.

He's tired and he's fucked up again.

He throws the water on her and she stops, look of shock on her ancient face before she shivers and turns into a cloud of steam.

He's alone again and this time the wind lifts his hair.

The city is in the distance and the sun is coming up too, far away.

The butts aren't glowing in the grass any more.

His last stop before L.A. and he supposes that at least he did get the demon in the end.

He wishes he could feel good about it as he get's his bag and leaves the bus and rest stop and everything else behind.

Later, when the sun is fully up he'll find a car dealership and buy a bike and no longer footing it he'll pass into L.A., heading towards more than he can imagine.

[coochiequeens]

By Maxine Bernstein | The Oregonian/OregonLive

A 39-year-old woman accused of stealing thousands of dollars from two customers of her surrogate pregnancy agency was arrested by the FBI in Portland and faces indictment in California on wire fraud and aggravated theft charges.

Lillian Arielle Markowitz, 39, was arrested last weekend after FBI agents found her at a boyfriend’s residence. She was suffering at the time from a drug overdose, having ingested ketamine that was apparently laced with fentanyl, Assistant U.S. Attorney Cassady Adams told a judge this week.

The rest of the article was hidden behind a pay wall but I did find this older article

LOS ANGELES (KABC) -- A Southern California woman who delivered twins for another family says she never got paid for her services and that she's emotionally distressed by the experience.

Darlene Arreola says she became a surrogate to help another couple have children.

"Because they have been trying for so many years, I knew that I was doing the right thing," Arreola told Eyewitness News.

She says she signed up with Elite Women Surrogacy, or EWS, and worked with owner Kenia German.

She says under the contract she signed online, the money for her service was to be placed in a trust account. But she claims she never got the money. Arreola says it was sent to the owner of EWS instead.

"Apparently they gave her a check, or they gave her the money, and I didn't even know that," Arreola claims. "I wasn't even aware that they had paid her directly until the last appointment that I had where I talked to them and I told them I haven't been paid."

Arreola gave birth to twins a few months ago in what turned out to be an emergency cesarean section.

She says she has been going back and forth with EWS and the owner trying to find out what is going on.

"She kept saying that the money was being withheld by the bank, that the bank wasn't releasing the funds," she says.

She added that she was sent screenshots of money that was supposed to be transferred to an account that didn't belong to her. She says she never received the funds.

Eyewitness News went to the listed address for the EWS office, but it's gone. The people there say they took over the space because they were told that the previous tenant stopped paying rent.

Owner Kenia German told Eyewitness News that the situation is complicated, but she wouldn't provide specifics. She said she can't do an interview at this time.

After German was contacted by Eyewitness News, Arreola says she received an email which says in part: "While Channel 7 has reached out to us, we are unable to comment or disclose Darlene's private information... we are working diligently to complete her case and process any delayed payments by or before 12/31/23. We apologize for these delays as they were caused by circumstances beyond our control which we are unable to disclose at this time."

Arreola says she's in emotional and financial distress.

"Never did I imagine that I would be going through all of this and putting my family now through it, and us struggling because of my choices, and I feel really guilty," Arreola says.

Arreola adds this has taken a toll on her family, but she is staying strong for her own children.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Charles Lynn Simmons

In January of 2004, fifty two year old Charles Lynn Simmons had a lot to look forward to- he was actively saving up money to open his own gem and mineral shop, something he was deeply passionate about, and to top it off, the annual Tucson Gem and Mineral Show was only a few days away (The Tucson Gem and Mineral Show is the largest, and oldest, gem and mineral show in the world.) Charles was enthralled with gems, and made a lot of friends within the network he was so passionate about. A childhood friend of over forty years, said this about Charles-

”Chuck almost had a sickness about rocks. Maybe that's not the right word--more like a passion. But he loved his rocks."

Charles was also described as very trusting and old fashioned- he didn’t use the internet or own a cell phone- but this unconditional trust in others often led him to loaning out money, or gems, to those within the community. A lot of people owed Charles Simmons a lot of money, but according to Patterson, these mounting debts didn’t seem to bother him too much. However, one particular associate of Charles owed him over $400,000 dollars in 2004, and Charles had sought legal council in order to be paid back.

Charles co-owned a mine in Morenci, Arizona, which took him away from home for weeks at a time in order to mine it. On January 14th, Charles had only been home for a few days time after returning from Morenci- all that is publicly known about his day was that he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone. After that, Charles vanished. When no one could get in touch with him again, his friends were confused- they knew that Charles was extremely excited about the upcoming Gem and Mineral show, and they knew he wouldn’t leave town without contacting anyone, first. He was reported missing two days later, after contacting a distance cousin in Phoenix to submit a report on their behalf.

On January 17, 2004, Charle’s Ford F-150 was located, sitting in a parking lot on the corners of North Stone and East Toole avenues, in Tucson. Strangely, his truck was parked across the street from a warehouse called Zee’s Gallery and Warehouse, owned by Zee Haag, a business associate of Charles. Zee is the man who owed Charles $400,000, whom Charles was seeking legal advice about. When inspecting the truck, police noted that the state of the truck was normal- nothing out of the ordinary. Charles girlfriend, Franny Young, spoke to 13 news about the truck, saying-

”It was unlike him to leave his truck there. It didn't look like anything was wrong with it, it was just there."

Police learned that when Charles disappeared, Zee rented a van, which he immediately drove to California. They were able to access the van, and found a dried liquid on the panel- police also found DNA that likely belonged to Charles. Despite these findings, without a body or concrete proof of foul play, the case went cold.

Police spoke to people in Southern California, considering that Charles may have been buried somewhere in the desert between Tucson and Southern California, but things only continued to grow colder in their investigation. The case hit a standstill until January 2015, when police got information that they deemed credible from an unknown source. This tip led them to an abandoned mine shaft deep within the Saguaro National Park, on the northwest end. Investigators extensively searched the abandoned mine, and the area surrounding it, but came up empty handed. After this, they felt like they were back to square one- downtown Tucson, focusing on the gem and mineral show, specifically. A detective on the case stated that he still felt like the tip about the mine shaft held some weight, however.

Police continue to monitor the gem and mineral show in Tucson every year, in hopes that someone may came forward with information, or that someone may “slip up” and say something. With lack of concrete evidence, no one has been named a suspect or person of interest in the disappearance of Charles Lynn Simmons, but they do say that no one has been cleared of any wrong doing, either.

Charles friends and long time girlfriend hope to bring him home one day, with Scott Patterson stating that all of Charles friends are dedicated to his memory, and will “pull out all the stops” in order to find him.

When last seen, Charles was described as standing at 6’1”, weighing 180 pounds, with brown hair and grey eyes, and a mustache. He also goes by the name Chuck. There has been no financial activity on Charles’ records since he disappeared.

[placidca]

Your Dream Vacation Awaits: Beach Home Rentals San Diego

San Diego, with its sun-kissed beaches, vibrant culture, and year-round perfect weather, beckons travelers from around the globe to experience its coastal charm. And what better way to indulge in the ultimate getaway than by renting a beachfront home? PlacidCa, a premier vacation rental company, offers a diverse selection of beach rentals home in San Diego, promising an unforgettable escape tailored to your dreams.

1. Coastal Luxury Redefined:

Imagine waking up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore, stepping onto your private balcony to catch the breathtaking sunrise over the Pacific Ocean. PlacidCa's beach rentals home in San Diego redefine coastal luxury, offering spacious accommodations, modern amenities, and unparalleled ocean views. From cozy beach cottages to luxurious waterfront estates, there's a perfect retreat for every traveler seeking comfort and indulgence.

2. Prime Locations for Every Preference:

Whether you're craving the lively atmosphere of Mission Beach, the laid-back vibes of Pacific Beach, or the upscale ambiance of La Jolla, PlacidCa curates a diverse portfolio of beach rentals home across San Diego's most coveted coastal neighborhoods. Choose your ideal location based on proximity to attractions, dining options, outdoor activities, and scenic beauty, and immerse yourself in the quintessential Southern California lifestyle.

3. Personalized Experiences Tailored to You:

At PlacidCa, we understand that every traveler has unique preferences and desires when it comes to their dream vacation. That's why our dedicated team of hospitality professionals goes above and beyond to personalize your experience, from assisting with booking accommodations to providing insider tips on local attractions and activities. Whether you're planning a romantic getaway, a family retreat, or a group gathering, we ensure that every aspect of your stay exceeds expectations.

4. Endless Outdoor Adventures Await:

With miles of pristine coastline, sun-drenched beaches, and crystal-clear waters at your doorstep, the possibilities for outdoor adventure in San Diego are limitless. Spend your days soaking up the sun, building sandcastles, surfing the waves, or embarking on thrilling water sports adventures. PlacidCa's beach rentals home provide convenient access to a myriad of recreational opportunities, allowing you to make the most of your time in paradise.

5. Home Away from Home Comforts:

While exploring San Diego's coastal wonders is undoubtedly a highlight of your vacation, having a comfortable and inviting retreat to return to is equally important. PlacidCa's beach rentals home are thoughtfully appointed with all the comforts of home, including fully equipped kitchens, spacious living areas, private outdoor spaces, and high-speed internet access. Whether you're seeking relaxation, entertainment, or convenience, our rentals cater to your every need.

6. Unforgettable Memories Await:

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[cyberphuck]

So, about the story of how I met my dad and why I love him so much

@qthewhatever asked me to talk about my dad, how he became my dad, and our relationship. I thought this was going to be a fun jaunt through good memories, with maybe a few grateful tears along the way. But the story of why my dad is so special to me can't be told without the context of why my mother *isn't* special to me, and the stark difference between how he treats me, and how I was treated by her. The cliff's notes version (do they even have those anymore?): Dad became my dad kind of by accident, when Seb and I started "pretending" to be siblings in order to be able to rent a room together. Dad is Seb's dad, so it follows that since I'm Seb's sibling, Dad is my dad too. Then he just... fell into the role, because dads gotta dad. He is always proud of me, no matter what, and no matter how badly I fuck something up he could never, ever stop loving me. He cares about me and doesn't get annoyed by the ups and downs of my moods. He lets me cry when I need to. He lets me take a break when I need to. He loves me, *really* loves me, so totally and completely that even though we look absolutely nothing alike, no one who has ever seen us together doubts that he's raised me from birth. That's not what it was like with my mom. I only got so far through recounting her decades of abuse before I found that I couldn't do it anymore. I'm still going to post what I have, because I think other people should read it and maybe become comfortable talking about their abuse *as* abuse and not "I'm sure I was doing something wrong somehow, and it was my fault they were always so angry at me." Also, I spent a long time working on it. This is not a happy story. trigger warnings: child abuse, emotional abuse, verbal abuse, mental illness, mentions of suicide, mentions of self harm, mentions of various serial killers, mentions of psychiatric hospitals, autism portrayed in a negative tone, fatphobia, and brief mentions of drugs and drug use. (this story is also not complete; it stops when I'm around 27, but I added an epilogue.)

My family had been in various financial situations throughout my childhood, but I was raised upper middle class, which was the same tax bracket that my mom had been raised in. My biodad, Ichiro (Dave) left when I was three, and I saw him once ten years later and then never again. So mom raised my older brother Nick and I by herself (except for a 3 year stint with Chris the Coke Addict Who's Dead Now) up until I was thirteen.

I'll admit I was not an easy kid to raise. I was (and still am) weird and awkward and autistic and prone to oversharing with strangers as well as long crying spells over seemingly low-importance things. Nick was also sensitive and somewhere on the spectrum, but it was me who was the loud one, the hyper one, the one who people politely said was a "late bloomer" and "marched to the beat of their own drummer" (at one point my mom told me I was "marching backwards.") I refused or forgot to eat so often that at six I became malnourished enough to warrant a visit by CPS. I was always being called into the principal's office for doing weird shit at school, like making potions out of shampoo and throwing them at passing cars or lion-roaring at boys I didn't like or whatever. When I got sick, I got VERY sick, like the time I straight up got Scarlet Fever and almost died, or the time I had a fever so high I started convulsing, or the lots of times that I had to do fasting blood draws every month because I had a very low red blood cell count and no one could figure out why.

Bottom line I was very weird. Mom was weird too, my grandparents were weird, but they knew how to "show" in public. I didn't. Nick's nickname for me was "The Spaz." Worse, I constantly craved attention and had absolutely no concept of Stranger Danger (I still kind of don't), and the year I was born, Richard Ramirez was active and killing in Southern California where my mom and Dave lived. In 1992, Jeffrey Dahmer was arrested and his apartment full of chunks of Milwaukee's queer community was broadcasted all over the news. In 1978, when my mom was a young woman, Mary Vincent was attacked by a man who picked her up while hitchhiking. He assaulted her and then attacked her with a hatchet, cutting both her arms off above the elbow. She has hooks for hands now. 

To keep me by her side and not wandering around out in the open, mom told me about all this. Everything-- that Dahmer was killing and eating people, that Ramirez tortured and murdered people, and how Mary Vincent had asked a strange man for a ride and now she had no arms. There's a scene in the beginning of *A Time to Kill* by John Grisham where a young black girl is being raped and tortured by two white men. It's a page or two long, but very graphic, and when I was eight my mom sat me down and made me read it to show me what could happen to me if I went anywhere alone.

At the time, we lived in Lausanne, Switzerland, which is not exactly a hotbed of violent crime.

All that aside, I was a cute kid and a good-looking teenager. I was adorably freckly with never-neat red hair, and then grew into a curvy teen with long red hair and wore cute clothes. Mom bragged to people that I was an author and an artist, and she would often tell me that she loved how 'cool' I was. (cool, in this sense, meant wearing the clothes she bought me and not styling my hair in any way she found ugly. She often pointed out ugly people on TV or on the street, and say something like 'I'm glad YOU don't dress like that.') 

I was smart-- I didn't get good grades because I could never get around to doing my homework, but I scored high on tests and most teachers liked me. I wasn't one of the popular kids, but I was always the leader of whatever little gang I was in, deciding where we went and what we did, and mom loved that, too. And she really, *really* wanted me to go into medicine.

Junior and senior year was where it all started to fall apart. 

Mom's husband is a veteran with severe PTSD. 2001 - 2005 were the worst years with him; he was overbearing at the best of times and the fact that he was a boomer from Brooklyn and I was a millenial from LA really didn't help us see eye to eye. But he had a hair trigger and would back me against a wall to loom over you  and scream in your face. Nick, who was taller and angrier than me, would scream back. Once, Nick was sent to the store for parmesan cheese and came home with the powder kind in the green can instead of the tub of the fancy grated cheese, and the resulting shouting match almost ended in a fist fight.

My depression started getting really bad when I was 17. By 18, I started self-harming, and for the first time had the thought that if I died, if I was gone and were nothing, everything would be better. I also had my first hospitalization.

I'm at 21 inpatient psychiatric stays now.

Worse, I was an adult now and had not transferred gracefully from high school to college (to go into medicine, nothing else was enough for her). I didn't even have a graduation-- I tested out of school in early 2003 and the only pomp and circumstance I got was a half-sheet of paper with 'CALIFORNIA HIGH SCHOOL PROFICIENCY EXAMINATION' printed on it. I had gained a lot of weight, partly due to meds and partly from depression and post-school downtime. She told me my hair looked like a rat's nest and once remarked to her husband, 'look at the size of her!' I no longer wore cute clothes and was not actively trying to turn my art or writing into a profitable career. 

Mom and her husband told me that I absolutely had to go back to school again, or they'd kick me out. The closest community college was two counties away (counties in California are really big). They told me they'd only take me to the nearest bus stop (still an hours' drive) and then I'd have to take a three-hour bus ride to the campus. The absolute earliest bus left at six am, which meant that I could only take classes starting at 10 am, and then had to leave by 2 pm to take the bus back home (the return bus did go all the way back to my area, but didn't run as often). 

They treated my trek back and forth to campus every day not with pride or pity, but contempt, as in "this is what you get for not succeeding." I had two more hospital stays.

After a particularly bad episode with mom's husband where he tried to force his way through a door and I had to climb out a window to get to neighbor's house and call 911, I moved out to stay with Nick, who had left about a year earlier. I was determined to be an adult and build a life for myself, but my depression and self-harming got steadily worse, and though I had several jobs and tried to go to college, every few months I'd do some serious damage to myself and end up back in the psych ward, pushing all my plans back to zero.

Nick moved in with his girlfriend, leaving me to shoulder the rent on our room on my own. I managed for about six months, but I couldn't stay at any job for long. I went to live with Skittle, where my depression took such a nosedive that a lot of nights were just spent huddled in a ball and sobbing. I felt worthless. I felt like I was nothing. 

Skittle and I broke up, and with nowhere to go, I moved back in with my mom. There were short periods thereafter that I would move out again, but basically, after I turned 23, I didn't get away from her again for five years.

Mom was never really happy with me again. I helped out wherever I could, going with her to the ranch where her horses were and volunteering to do all the dirty or hard tasks so she could have more time to ride. I did not and still do not like horses and have no interest in riding them. I went to make her happy. I wanted to do whatever I could to make her like me.

(Mom's ranch friends loved me, because I had been taught to show well in public. With them, I was witty and hard-working, and so sweet to come there to help my mom. Didn't I want to get on a horse, just once? No?)

I brought my mom breakfast and her meds when she woke up, so she could lay in bed while they took effect instead of having to hobble to the kitchen. I did chores around the house. I took the laundry to the laundromat twice a week, and brought them home clean and folded. I walked the dogs and took them to the park. 

My mom told me that I was a draw on finances. I started cleaning houses, and eventually lucked into a job cleaning weed for a hefty sum of money. I made enough money in one three-day weekend to buy my own car, which was a good thing since mom's truck was repossessed not long after. I'd gotten the trimming job in November. I sometimes stayed over at the weed guy's house so I could do two or three days of trimming in a row. In December mom told me that all I cared about was money.

Early the next year, my boss was between sales, so he was late paying me. I owed my mom two hundred dollars (I can't remember for what), and she treated me with open hatred for every day I didn't have it. Bitter and upset, I posted something on facebook to the effect of "does anyone know where I can find two hundred dollars so my mom will love me again?" Mom saw it and sent me a message: 

"you want to play this game? better not call for a while I better not see you for a while. a person must learn to keep family business private [Jaydee]."

I also got:

“Just sit there and pretend you’re not here.”

“I’m trying to reminisce about happier times, before all this.”

“You know you think it’s all about you, but I had your brother first.”

“If you don’t like the things I say to you, leave and find someplace with someone nicer.”

“Go get a shrink and figure out why you’re like this all the time.”

[epilogue: the next year, I was planning to commit suicide because I saw no other way out. Seb offered to let me stay with him in Texas; my options were Texas, or death. I pondered that for a while. A few weeks later, I got a refund of a Pell Grant from my college that they'd mistakenly taken two years earlier. Mom and her husband made it expressly clear that as soon as the money hit my account, I was to hand it over to them. Instead, I bought a plane ticket, pulled out the rest of the money in cash, wiped my ass with her husband's face towel, and snuck out with two suitcases in the middle of the night. I had left a note for mom saying I didn't want to be abused anymore and told her I was going to stay with a friend in Central California to throw her off my trail. I also told her that if she ever tried to find me, or bothered any of my friends to get information, I would put all of her secrets and records of her abuse on facebook for all her friends and relatives to read.

I didn't see her or speak to her again for nearly ten years, until this May. Then I flipped her off.]