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northernindigenousbeautyhailey · 3 years

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TAMRA JEWEL KEEPNESS.

FEW CHILDREN IN CANADA JUST VANISH. Fewer still stay gone for longer than a couple of days. Some are found alive, others are hurt or killed, but rarely does a child simply disappear. The RCMP’s National Centre for Missing Persons and Unidentified Remains database lists 147 missing children, in a country of more than 35 million people. Of the sixty children under the age of twelve, a quarter are thought to have been abducted by their parents. A large portion of the others were lost to apparent accidents or misadventure, falling through ice or swept away in the pull of wild rivers, their bodies never recovered. The database shows twenty-four children in the past sixty years who have inexplicably disappeared. Because there are so few, we know them. In Edmonton, there is Tania Murrell, six when she vanished while walking home from school for lunch in January 1983. In Toronto, Nicole Morin, eight when she disappeared from a condominium building in July 1985. Michael Dunahee was four years old when he went missing from a playground in Victoria in 1991. In Regina, there is only Tamra Keepness.

THE LAST TIME anyone saw Tamra, she was five years old, with bobbed black hair and soft, round cheeks. In one picture, she wears a T-shirt dotted with flowers, standing against the colourful collage of a classroom wall. Her smile is broad and open, her eyes lively. She was so smart that her mother called her “my little Einstein,” so feisty that when a little boy pushed her once, Tamra shoved him right back, and harder. She liked playing Mario Kart on Nintendo and climbing her favourite tree, down the block from her house.

July 6, 2004, was the first time Sergeant Ron Weir would hear Tamra’s name. He was getting ready to leave on vacation that day when he got an urgent call back to the police station. Weir was a veteran cop with the Regina Police Service and head of emergency services, which included search and rescue. In a meeting, officers from the major crimes unit laid out what they knew: sometime between the night of Monday, July 5, and the morning of Tuesday, July 6, a five-year-old girl had gone missing from her home in central Regina.

Weir had been a police officer for twenty years. He knew that kids often went missing and turned up safe a short time later. Sixty-five percent of missing children and teens are located within the first day, and almost 90 percent within the first week. But Weir also knew that Tamra was too young to get far as a runaway. Patrol officers had already checked the neighbourhood to make sure Tamra hadn’t wandered away or ended up at the house of a playmate or relative, as was often the case with missing children. They’d found nothing. Even in the early hours of the investigation, Weir suspected this case would be different.

TAMRA LIVED with her mother, stepfather, and five siblings at 1834 Ottawa Street, a shabby brown-and-white two-storey with a windowed porch at the front. The house stood between 11th and 12th avenues, just east of downtown Regina. The neighbourhood was a mix of long-time elderly residents, young families drawn by low prices for heritage houses, and ramshackle homes where residents struggled with poverty and addiction. The area was sometimes known as the “low stroll,” a place where women and girls sold their bodies for drugs or booze and men drove around looking to buy them, circling the neighbourhood in trucks and station wagons. Many of the women and girls who lived or worked in the area were First Nations, like Tamra. Long before calls for a federal inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women would dominate the political conversation, women were going missing from those streets. It was from that same area that nineteen-year-old Annette Kelly Peigan disappeared in 1983, followed by eighteen-year-old Patsy Favel in 1984 and Joyce Tillotson in 1993. Two years later, two young white men picked up a woman named Pamela George, sexually assaulted her, and beat her to death.

The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user posted to the website a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.”

Tamra’s house was less than a block from the Oskana Centre, a halfway house for federal parolees, and not far from the Salvation Army’s Waterston House, a residence and shelter inhabited by former inmates and men struggling with drugs, alcohol, and psychiatric issues. Residents of both facilities had been responsible for serious attacks in the past. Just four months earlier, convicted violent sex offender Randy Burgmann had lured a woman into his room at Waterston House with alcohol, before violently sexually assaulting her and leaving her beside a dumpster to die. The Oskana Centre had previously been home to both serial rapist Larry Deckert and Billy John Francis Whitedeer, who began committing violent sexual offences on children when he was ten years old. A few blocks farther was the Ehrle Hotel, one of the worst bars in town, from which patrons spilled soggy and staggering onto the sidewalk, and which appeared regularly in police reports and court testimony.

Police also had serious questions about what was happening at 1834 Ottawa Street. There was a broken window and blood spatter in the porch. Social Services had been involved with the family since not long after the oldest child was born in 1993, and there had been more than fifty reports made to crisis workers, most often about Tamra’s mother’s use of alcohol and drugs, and neglect of the children. Her mother’s boyfriend had a history of violence and domestic assault. In most cases, investigators knew, children are hurt by people closest to them.

POLICE STARTED with a thorough search of the area immediately around the home, then cast their efforts outward in an expanding grid. As the sun rose on the morning of July 7, 2004, the search effort intensified. First, there were ten officers, then twenty, then more. Some officers accompanied trained volunteer search teams; others questioned family members and potential witnesses, going door-to-door gathering leads or chasing down tips. The RCMP training academy provided cadets, and members of the public soon began arriving on their own to help.

Police set up a command-centre bus in the parking lot of a nearby church, from which Weir co-ordinated the search. Though it was an urban environment, the terrain posed serious challenges. The area was filled with overgrown yards, empty houses, piles of garbage. Tamra weighed forty pounds, and stood three foot five. There were so many places a child could hide or get trapped or be held, where a child’s body could be concealed or dumped. Searchers in orange vests worked in grids, knocking on doors, inspecting junked cars and crumbling garages, peering under discarded mattresses and piles of wood, looking down manholes. Police stopped garbage pickups, checking all the bins in the neighbourhood, the trash putrid and reeking in the summer heat. Some bins had already been emptied, so plans were made to search the dump as well.

And what if she had been taken farther? Not far away were industrial areas, large abandoned lots and buildings, Wascana Creek, and beyond that, the vast Prairie. With a thirteen-hour head start, someone in a vehicle could have had Tamra in Vancouver before she was reported missing.

When they were not speaking to police, members of Tamra’s family waited anxiously on the fringes, watching the searchers, eyeing the growing assembly of reporters and news crews holding out microphones and pointing camera lenses. “It’s not like her to go off by herself,” said Tamra’s father, Troy Keepness, sitting on the front steps of his ex-wife’s house, his voice tight with worry. “We’re trying to do our best to get her back.”

Weir worked in the command-centre bus, surrounded by maps and whiteboards. A scribe logged every aspect of the search in real time, recording ideas and progress. No one wanted to break, not for food or rest. Everyone knew the situation grew more serious with every passing hour. As the heat of the day gave way to evening, Weir stood outside and looked up. A strong wind had come in, and storm clouds were spreading, darkening the Prairie sky.

The next day, police strung crime-scene tape around Tamra’s house and the one next door, drawing it through the back alley and across six garages, long slashes of yellow dividing the street. Officers guarded the perimeter while forensic investigators went in and out of the house in boots and masks. “While we don’t have any direct evidence that Tamra has come to any harm, we also don’t know where she is,” police spokeswoman Elizabeth Popowich told reporters. “And if, in fact, this comes to a point where we determine that she’s come to some harm and it’s because of a criminal act, this location could potentially be the scene of some evidence.”

THERE WERE three adults in the house that evening: the children’s mother, Lorena Keepness; her boyfriend, Dean McArthur; and a family friend named Russell Sheepskin, who had been staying with the family. All three had come and gone during the night, and investigators were starting to question their movements. There were no signs of forced entry to the house, and there were gaps, inconsistencies in their timelines that didn’t make sense to investigators.

The story the three told publicly, compiled from various interviews, was that Lorena and McArthur got into an argument while watching a movie on Monday evening, and McArthur and Sheepskin left the house around 8:30 p.m. to go drinking. The men returned briefly to drop off a bottle of formula for the baby, then left again. Lorena went out around 11 p.m, kissing Tamra goodbye before she went. The oldest child in the house was ten-year-old Summer, the youngest was Lorena and McArthur’s nine-month-old baby. Lorena returned briefly to check on the children and then left again around midnight. At about 3 a.m., Sheepskin returned home drunk and saw Tamra sleeping on the couch. Not long after, McArthur got back to the house and assaulted Sheepskin on the porch, punching him through a window and then stomping on his head. (Both men later said the fight had nothing to do with Tamra.) Sheepskin walked alone to the hospital to get stitches, and McArthur went to stay at his aunt’s house a few blocks away. Though it should have been a short walk, he said he got lost and kept passing out as he walked there. He didn’t arrive for at least two hours, until 5 or 5:30 a.m. Meanwhile, Lorena got home around 3:15 or 3:30 a.m., climbed in through a window, and passed out on the couch. She said that she got up to undo the latch on the door for her mother around 8 or 9 a.m. and that the two eldest children, Summer and Rayne, left on their own in the morning to attend a summer day-camp. Lorena didn’t realize Tamra wasn’t there until about three hours later, when the five-year-old didn’t come downstairs. At 12:16 p.m., a family member called the police and told them Tamra was missing.

Rayne, who was eight, said he had gone to bed squeezed into the space between the wall and mattresses piled on the floor in an upstairs bedroom. He told his mother he felt Tamra get up at some point, the slight movement of a child’s weight. All he could remember was that it was light outside.

FRIDAY WAS hot again and wet from the previous night’s rain. An odour of decay hung in the air around Ottawa Street. Tamra had been gone three full days and become national news. Her picture seemed to be everywhere, hanging on street poles and store windows. In news stories, she became “missing five-year-old Tamra Keepness,” but more often she was just Tamra, as if we knew her. The front page of the Regina Leader-Post spoke directly to her, asking, “Tamra, Where Did You Go?”

Tips flooded in to police. On the street, there were rumours that Tamra had been seen at a dollar store with an older woman. Business owners in the neighbourhood said detectives had been looking for a middle-aged white man named Roch or Rocky, but police wouldn’t confirm whether that was related to the search. Lorena and McArthur said they gave police the names of five people they thought could be suspects, including a man who had befriended Tamra and later been discovered to be a pedophile. For a while, there was even a theory that Tamra had never existed at all, that she had been a scam to get extra money from Social Services. (Hospital records proved that was not the case.)

Searchers were coming from around the province to volunteer, streaming into the city from towns and First Nations communities, motivated by the faces of their own children or grandchildren to help in whatever way they could. “I’ve got a boy, and he’s twenty-one,” said Jerry Scott, one of the volunteers who joined the search. “And if he left, I’d go nuts, too.” Around the city, people organized vigils and barbecues, brought water and snacks for the searchers, wrapped ribbons around trees to show their support. Some left teddy bears and angels on the steps of Tamra’s house. Days of intensive searches had turned up lots of items that seemed as though they could be connected—clothing, a child’s shoe—but none of it belonged to Tamra. “I’m starting to go on different conclusions, like maybe someone took her, I don’t know,” Troy Keepness said. “I just hope nobody would hurt my daughter.”

WHEN Tamra had been gone a week, police announced they were suspending the ground searches. At a press conference, Regina police chief Cal Johnston announced a $25,000 reward for information and vowed, “We will find Tamra.” Police questioned sex offenders living in the area and obtained surveillance tapes from convenience stores, bars, gas stations, and the Greyhound bus depot nearby. Johnston confirmed that “criminal interference with Tamra is a distinct possibility” and drew attention back to Tamra’s house and family. “There were comings and goings from the house that night that remain not fully explained to our satisfaction, and we continue to ask those questions,” he told reporters. He would not elaborate.

Tamra’s family was growing increasingly angry at the police, and the strain of the situation was starting to show. Lorena told reporters she’d signed consent forms for police to search her house and had given her DNA, but still she felt as if they were focusing too much on her family and not enough on trying to find Tamra. She was angry that police hadn’t closed the highways out of the city and that there was no Amber Alert because police said it didn’t meet the criteria. “I’m fed up,” she told reporters. “They are wasting time. This is my little girl we’re talking about.”

The family was growing frustrated with the media, too. Lorena’s mother yelled obscenities at reporters one day, and on another, members of the family nearly came to blows with a TV reporter doing a live update from the front lawn. They had been watching the news inside the house when they heard the reporter imply what many in the city were already wondering: If not someone in that house, then who?

On July 19, two weeks after Tamra had been reported missing, police charged McArthur with assaulting Sheepskin the night Tamra disappeared. McArthur told reporters he had been interrogated for twenty hours, not about the assault, but about Tamra and about what had gone on inside the house that night. “It was always the same questions, and they were assuming that I knew the answers to those questions, but I didn’t know the answers, and I still don’t know the answers,” he said. “I would never hurt a hair on that little girl’s head.”

Two days later, Tamra’s brothers and sisters were removed from the home by child-protection officers. Tamra’s twin sister wore messy pigtails and clutched a colouring book and a yellow blanket as two women led the children away down the front steps of the house. Neither government officials nor police would say whether the children’s seizure was related to Tamra’s disappearance. When the children were gone, police searched the house again.

One night late that summer, Tamra’s father, Troy, showed up at the house with a baseball bat and confronted her stepfather, McArthur. Troy was charged with assault, though McArthur later said police “got things misunderstood.” “Everybody’s looking for answers,” he said. “We more or less talked.”

LORENA KEEPNESS was fourteen years old when she ran away from her home on the White Bear First Nation, 200 kilometres southeast of Regina. She had been in residential school for about three months, but that wasn’t what did it. For her, it was the same ugly stuff at home. She found her way to Regina. When her mom tried to take her home, Lorena wouldn’t go. She lived on the streets instead.

She had her daughter Summer Wind when she was twenty, her son Rayne Dance not long after. It was after the ultrasound for her third baby that she walked home in a daze and told her husband, Troy, “We’re having twins.” She kept repeating it until it sunk in, and then they just stood together in the kitchen and laughed. Her mother said “Way to go!” but Lorena told her, “They came from God. Not like I planted those in me.”

The babies were born on September 1, 1998. Fraternal twin girls, each weighing more than six pounds, carried almost right to term and curved around one another like pieces of a puzzle. Lorena and Troy split up when the twins were little, and after that, the girls stayed sometimes with their mother, sometimes with their father or with other relatives. Lorena and Troy each struggled with substance abuse, and their lives were sometimes too troubled and unstable to have the children with them. At five, Tamra was bold and courageous, and protective of her twin sister. Once, Lorena heard a soft knock in the middle of the night and opened the door to find the twins standing there. The children had left their father’s house and walked four blocks back to Lorena’s in the middle of the night, Tamra leading her sister by the hand as they found their way through the dark. REGINA POLICE received more than a thousand tips in the first six weeks after Tamra’s disappearance. At one point, a Volkswagen van that had been stolen the night Tamra disappeared was found burned outside the city. A jail guard told police she and a former inmate had stolen it, picked up Tamra, and then dumped the child’s body in a ravine on the Muscowpetung First Nation. Ron Weir led a week-long search on Muscowpetung, draining multiple beaver dams with compressor pumps, while searchers slogged through water up to their hips. The jail guard later confessed she had made up the story. She was charged with mischief and wrote a letter apologizing to the police. In court, her lawyer said she had been trying to get her abusive boyfriend locked up again.

Returning from medical leave to the police department in the fall of 2004, superintendent Troy Hagen could feel how Tamra’s disappearance was weighing on his colleagues. Hagen noticed it in everyone he spoke to, from the police chief down, whether they were involved with the case or not. Sergeant Rod Buckingham, one of the lead investigators, was among those who felt the growing frustration. “It’s a mystery,” he would say. “And I don’t like mysteries.”

Officers had spoken with more than 6,000 people by then, but there had been no arrests, and leads were drying up. Shortly after, a special task force was struck to re-examine the case, to see whether anything had been missed. The name of the project was iskwesis ayishowak e mamayahi, a Cree term meaning “little girl bring people together.”

TWELVE YEARS LATER, Lorena Keepness spends her days doing odd jobs and picking bottles, trading them in at the depot for cash. She is forty-three and lives with her eldest son in a rundown shack of a house on Victoria Avenue, a fifteen-minute walk from Ottawa Street. Lorena’s children were never permanently returned to her custody after the disappearance, and the three babies she had after that were all taken by Social Services, too. Tamra’s twin sister is seventeen now. Lorena says she is an athlete, smart and beautiful. Lorena lost her family pictures when someone threw all her stuff in the garbage a few years ago. The only photos she has of Tamra now are the ones on missing-child posters.

Tamra’s twin and her older sister, Summer, don’t want to be interviewed. Neither does Tamra’s father, Troy. McArthur couldn’t be reached. Lorena needs a six-pack of Black Ice beer to talk. She doesn’t really want to be interviewed either. She has never liked reporters or their questions, and it hurts to talk about that time. “But part of me wants to,” she says, as her face crumples. “Part of me needs to share what the fuck happened. Someone stole my child.”

Lorena has heard many theories about what happened to her daughter. Some believe Tamra wandered away and was abducted by a driver cruising the area or that she got lost, then crawled in somewhere so small she has never been found. Other theories focus on the adults in the house that night. Some officers will say off-the-record that they think Tamra is in the dump but that they just couldn’t find her in the mountains of debris. Many in the city believe that Lorena and McArthur sold or traded Tamra to pay off a cocaine debt. Lorena has heard that one the most. One night, she was at a bar and heard some women talking, loud enough so she could hear. “Yeah, she sold her kid for dope. She has a whole bunch of babies. She has kids just to sell them for drugs.” Her friend told her not to listen, but Lorena couldn’t ignore it. She swore at the women, promised she would get them for even thinking she could do that to her child. They met at the same bar again the next day, and that time they fought, a tangle of hair and fists. One of them had a knife and slashed her twice on the back of her arm. More scars to wear for life. It wasn’t the only time. One night, she was attacked in Moose Jaw. Not long ago, a woman shouted “Baby killer!” at her across the street.

Lorena and Dean McArthur are still together, on and off—“more on than off,” she says. Police tried hard to turn them against each other, but she always believed him in the end. He may be all kinds of things, she says, but he’s not a baby killer. “If I thought he did something to my daughter, I would have killed him myself,” she says. “I think the police were just so sure. They figured, ‘These guys are a bunch of nobodies. She did her own child.’ They already had their conclusions drawn before they even tried to look for anything.”

The suggestion she could have had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance still pushes Lorena to the point of violence. You can see her eyes flash, her muscles tighten at the question. But she holds back— it’s not worth going to jail. She’s had enough of the police, has grown used to the accusations. In the past twelve years, she’s repeated her story publicly many times, and it has never really changed.

REGINA POLICE have never released full details about the investigation into Tamra’s disappearance, on the grounds that it remains an open case that they still hope to solve. In an interview, Troy Hagen, now Regina’s police chief, would not speak about any working theories or confirm any specifics of the investigation, including whether one of the people questioned about Tamra’s disappearance had failed a polygraph test. Instead, Hagen echoed what police have said since the beginning: That there remain important unanswered questions about the comings and goings from the house on Ottawa Street that night. That they will continue to investigate every tip. That they won’t stop looking for Tamra until they find her. He pointed to cases in the United States where children have been gone for years, sometimes decades, and then been found alive. In Canada, twelve-year-old Abby Drover was held in an underground bunker in Port Moody, British Columbia, for six months after being abducted by her neighbour in 1976. There was an intensive search of her community—including by her abductor—but she had been only feet away from her house the entire time. She was found alive. It seems impossible, but it happens. “I refuse to lose hope,” Hagen says.

The years since Tamra’s disappearance have exposed the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women in Canada. Suspected serial killers are facing charges in the Prairies, but there has been no public indication that Tamra’s disappearance may be connected to any of those cases. Hagen said police have also explored a possible connection with thirteen-year-old Courtney Struble, who disappeared from Estevan, a city 200 kilometres from Regina, four days after Tamra was last seen. Investigators initially believed that Struble was a runaway, and she had been gone for seven years before RCMP announced that her case had become a homicide investigation. No one has ever been charged, and her remains have never been located. Hagen says it’s strange to have two unsolved missing-children cases linked so closely in time and geographic proximity. He says the possibility of a connection was “very much” explored by police, but there doesn’t appear to be a correlation. The police investigation into Tamra’s disappearance is one of the largest and costliest in Regina’s history, but Hagen says it has never been about the money. If there were more leads or work for investigators, the police chief says he would reconvene the task force “in a heartbeat.” But the flood of tips has slowed. The reward for information that leads to finding her, now $50,000, sits unclaimed. The last public development came in November 2014, when a Reddit user with the name MySecretIsOut posted a scrawled map with the words: “Location of Tamra Keepness, check the wells.” The person later wrote that the map belonged to their grandmother and had come from a great-aunt who had visited an inmate in Alberta. “We, like many others, haven’t forgotten about you, Tamra, and continue to search and hope you are found,” the person posted. Police searched twenty-one wells around Muscowpetung but found nothing.

Sheepskin died on January 1, 2009, “with his family by his side,” according to his obituary. Many of the police officers who worked on Tamra’s case have retired or moved from the department to other jobs. Hagen says he thinks of Tamra whenever he is walking through the forest, not looking for her but always half expecting to see her there. Sometimes he looks at people he passes on the street, examining their faces and imagining what Tamra might look like now.

THROUGH THE YEARS, Lorena has developed her own theories about what happened to her daughter. These days, she mainly wonders about a drifter who used to stay with them, a woman Lorena knew from when she was a girl. A woman who sometimes told people she was pregnant even though she wasn’t, who Lorena knew by one name but whose medical documents said something else. The woman was around so much that Lorena’s children called her Big Auntie. Big Auntie had been staying at the house before Tamra disappeared, but left after she and Lorena had a falling out. Lorena says it took a long time to realize Big Auntie wasn’t coming around any more. When she did, she put word out on the streets, but no one there had seen her either. Big Auntie didn’t even show up for her own sister’s funeral in Regina a few years back. Lorena says she told the police about Big Auntie many times, but doesn’t know whether they ever found her, or whether they even looked. “She’s just gone now,” Lorena says. “Same time as my child.” Maybe it’s something. Or maybe Big Auntie is missing, too.

When I ask Lorena whether she thinks Tamra will ever be found, she struggles for an answer. “I don’t know,” she says. “But can I tell you about a dream I had?” There are two, both so vivid it’s as if they were real. In one, Tamra is inside a big house in a city Lorena has never seen. There are silk clothes draped around, and broad windows, and Tamra is upstairs, sitting on the edge of a bathtub putting on stockings. She is grown, with dark, shiny hair like her mother’s but cut straight all around. In the other dream, Tamra is still a little girl, running into her mother’s arms. “There you are!” Lorena says. “There you are!” She picks up her child and holds her, until Tamra wriggles free and is lost again.

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ddwacsszdfs · 3 years

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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 34 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: Some might consider this a little bit of a filler chapter, but I actually think it’s a really important piece in establishing Bee as a person. Anywho...hope you guys enjoy! The next two chapters they are back in the West Coast, so you know what that means..........😇

It was going to take a while for Bee to comes to terms with the fact that two of her best friends were leaving Toronto. In the past ten days, she had tried to feel less selfish about the situation – how it affected her and how her life would change, how sad she was about it and how she was going to cope with it – and instead focus on the positives – how Tyler being in Ottawa would be a good leadership opportunity for him on a young team, and how Naz being traded to Colorado meant he would still be on a Cup-contending team. She tried to think about the positives for Ashley, too – how Denver was a beautiful city to raise a family in. How the media would still be loud but much quieter than the media in Toronto. How she’d probably be able to check her Instagram and not have DMs flood her inbox or have bunny blogs gossip about her shopping habits at Holt Renfrew based on information they heard from their sister’s friend’s brother’s girlfriend’s hairstylist’s dog walker’s niece who saw her buy her second Yves Saint Laurent bag of the month.

It would be okay.

Bee had to believe it would be okay. Because if any doubt arose in her about the situation, she’d have another crying episode like she did that night of July 1st, where Morgan had to hold her all night, assuring her that everything would be okay, giving her the only answers he could. She kept trying to think of the positives. She didn’t do things to distract herself from the situation – she genuinely internalized the reality of the situation and tried to see the positives as much as possible. It would make her feel better, she thought, about everything. And Morgan – bless him – was helping as much as he could. He knew better than anybody that it wouldn’t be easy for her, and so he took it upon himself to ease the pain. No small feat. But he did, because he loved her, because he wanted to see genuine smiles and laughs from her instead of forced happiness. He started a countdown to their vacation to Vancouver. He told her about how nice Tyson Barrie and Alexander Kerfoot (Kerfy, apparently) were, and how she’d like them. How Kerfy was already a good friend because they had grown up together and played together in Vancouver. He bought her bigger bouquets of flowers. They got ice cream more often. He let her cuddle into him however and whenever she wanted, and let her fall asleep on his chest with their limbs entwined and he’d carry her to bed, holding her in his arms the entire time.

Despite the emotional minefield that was July 1st, in the following days, she managed to register herself to write the first exam for her CFA certification in December, and she passed her driving test. She was officially a G2 class driver. Life had to move on. It always did. The only thing constant is change.

So when Morgan told her to get in the car, because he was going to take her somewhere, that it was a surprise, she was excited to. The last time he did so they ended up in Muskoka making love for an entire weekend. She even offered to drive there, but he said that wouldn’t be necessary, because it would spoil the surprise. So she hopped in the passenger’s seat. They got on the highway. And they travelled north. Like, really north. North of the city, to the suburb of Vaughan, where Bee noticed Morgan turn into the driveway of Pfaff Auto, where he had gotten his Porsche, a small smile on his face as they parked the car near the front.

“What are we doing here?” she asked as he turned off the ignition.

“What do you think?” he asked rhetorically.

Before she could answer, Bee noticed a man in a suit outside Morgan’s window, and she nodded her head towards it so it could grab Morgan’s attention. The man waved enthusiastically and Morgan opened the door. “Santi! Hey!”

“Morgan! Nice to see you bud!” he said as Morgan opened the door. “This must be Bee!” Santi waved at her. “How are you Bee?”

“I’m…good,” she said awkwardly as she saw Morgan start to get out of the car. She followed suit and walked around to where the men were standing.

“Morgan mentioned how you had passed your driving test. Congratulations!” Santi said. “We thought it would be a great idea to bring you in and welcome you into the Pfaff Family!”

“Oh?” Bee looked between Santi and Morgan. She stood stiff in between the two men. “Am I…you…you didn’t bring me here to pick out a car, did you?” she asked Morgan, who only smiled. “Morgan.”

“Don’t Morgan me,” he said, his response every single time she said his name in that tone of voice. “Let’s go inside and see our options, hmm?”

Bee didn’t really have a choice. They were already there, Santi was already smiling and waving and ready to show her cars, and when they walked inside, other employees waved and shook hands and it was all very nice, but Bee didn’t know what to do. She wondered if anybody could see how out of her element she was. She felt like a visiting Princess Kate being given a tour of something she had no clue about, smiling and nodding along and asking basic questions about things to make it seem like she understood what they were talking about and comfortable with what was going on around her. But she wasn’t. For a person who had never owned a car before, and who had only been in the very basic cars of her friends, she really didn’t have a clue. She knew the names, obviously, but everything else was extra. Everything else was so…extravagant.

Santi was nice. Warm. Accommodating. To his credit, he was an excellent salesman and knowledgeable of every little detail about every car or SUV they saw or sat in. He would usher her into the driver’s seat, he’d get into the passenger’s seat, and Morgan would slip in the backseat, and he’d go on and on about all the features. The leather seats. The luxury interior. The beeping sensors for when you were reversing. GPS Navigation. The backup cameras. The sunroofs. The option for add-on DVD players for the backseat. Luxury add-ons here. Luxury add-ons there.

Bee had to write down all the names of the cars so she could remember them all. The Porsche Cayenne Sport, the Mercedes Benz GLS 450, the BMW X7 xDrive 50i, the Porsche Macan Sport, the BMW Alpina B7 xDrive, the Audi A8 L 55, the BMW M5 Competition, the Mercedes Benz S-Class. It was all so overwhelming. There were so many things to remember. Santi didn’t even mention gas mileage. He didn’t mention how much it cost to fill up a tank of gas, how expensive it was to insure these cars, how expensive they were even just to maintain. She got more and more nervous the more she thought about it. It filled her with anxiety, being in something that was so expensive.

These cars weren’t for her.

“What’s the price point you’re looking for?” Santi asked as they sat together in the BMW X7. It was a beautiful crossover, no doubt, and Bee liked it, as objectively as she could like a car this expensive.

“We’re not thinking about that today,” Morgan butt in from the backseat. Santi gave him a smile. She looked at him through the rear-view mirror.

“What a guy, eh?” Santi joked, nodding his head towards Morgan. “We’ll take care of you guys, anyway. When Chris comes in he’ll arrange all that. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Who’s Chris?” Bee finally piped up.

“Chris Pfaff, the president and CEO,” Santi said. “After Morgan and I chose the Porsche last year Chris made sure Morgan was taken care of. And with Morgan referring some of the other Leafs to us, there’s no way we’re not going to take care of you again.”

Bee wondered what Santi meant when he said ‘take care’, but she knew if she asked she’d seem like an idiot. Maybe it just meant they got a good deal on the car or something. A discount. An add-on for only half the price. $100 in gas gift cards, like she always saw advertised on TV.

After what seemed like sitting in the millionth car, Santi was called away briefly, leaving Morgan and Bee alone for the first time since they parked. They stood beside an immaculate Range Rover. Bee looked over at Morgan, who was already looking at her. “What do you think?” he asked her.

“I don’t want to make a decision today,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t know why. He seemed to be having the time of his life being in all the cars. She never understood boys’ fascination with them.

“What?”

“I don’t want to make a decision today. I don’t…” she shook her head slightly, biting on her nail. “I want to think about it.”

“But they--”

“I want to do my own research,” she interrupted him, not wanting to get into it now. “I just want to go home with all the information he gave me and I want to do my own research and make my own decision.”

Morgan looked at her for a moment. He studied her. He saw the biting of the nail and saw her furrowed eyebrows and he nodded his head. “Okay. Okay. We’ll let Santi know.”

Santi gave Bee his card and told her to call him when she made her decision. She thanked him endlessly for all his help and information, and she and Morgan left Pfaff, beginning the long trek back downtown to their place. Bee sat looking out the window, not saying a word, mulling over everything going on inside her head. Morgan would take occasional glances at her, allowing them to sit in silence until they pulled into the parking garage and into their designated spot. He knew something was going on and he wanted to know.

“What’s wrong?”

Bee felt ashamed. She couldn’t even look at him even though she knew he was looking directly at her. “I don’t want any of those cars,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“I don’t want any of those cars,” she said a bit louder so he could hear. “I don’t…I don’t need any of those cars.”

“What do you mean you don’t need any of those cars?”

She sighed. “I only need a car that can get me from A to B. I’m not even going to drive it to work. The most I’ll be driving it is up to Rocco and Clarette’s house or to go grocery shopping. Maybe to go visit Aryne and John. I don’t think I need a ninety thousand dollar SUV to do that.”

Morgan shifted in his seat. “Okay…I get that,” he admitted. “But…I mean, they can help us, you know? The guys at Pfaff can take care of us.”

“Why do you guys keep saying that? What does that even mean?” she asked, her voice more assertive now.

“They can gift it to us, Briony. Like the Porsche.”

Bee whipped her head towards Morgan. “Gift it to us? Like the Porsche?”

“Yeah.”

“You…” she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re telling me this Porsche is a gift.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t pay a lease payment on this thing?”

“No.”

“A financing payment?”

“No.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” she exclaimed. “This entire fucking time we’ve been driving this car you haven’t had to pay a cent on it except for gas and insurance?” she asked. Morgan nodded his head. “What the fuck, Morgan?!”

“Why are you so angry?” he asked, remaining the calm one in the conversation.

“We don’t need a free car!” she yelled, unable to hold her emotions back any longer. “We have the money to pay for a car! We have the money to pay for any car we fucking want to and you’re telling me you’re paying nothing?! We should be paying for a car!”

“What’s the big deal?” Morgan questioned.

“It’s the principle!” she began. “This is exactly what’s wrong with this entire fucking system. I grew up with literally nothing by no fault of my own and I was still expected to pay my whole way through whatever came up in my life. You – and I don’t mean you specifically Morgan, but people like you, other hockey players and those stupid Instagram influencer girls from here just dying to hang out with you guys for status and clout – you guys have all this money and yet you get everything for free so long as you put it on your Instagram. It’s not fair. It’s not fair when so many fucking people in this city are struggling to get by and working their asses off at minimum wage jobs just to afford rent and the Toronto Maple Leafs are getting free luxury cars.”

Morgan stayed quiet. He knew she was right, like with most things, and he had never considered her perspective before. He had failed to consider the entire situation from her perspective. It was hard for him. He just thought it would be a nice day out. Go to a dealership, pick out a car. He’d take care of it for her, like he promised her he would with everything on that dock in Muskoka. And although she had accepted that, this wasn’t the way she wanted him to go about “taking care” of things. She obviously wanted to do everything fairly. “Briony…”

“I can’t believe you never told me this car was a gift,” she said, her voice much calmer now. “Look, I’m sorry I raised my voice. But we’re not poor. We can afford the financing or lease payments on any car I choose to get. And that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

“Okay,” Morgan nodded his head, his voice soft. “Okay. We can do that.”

“I can do that,” she corrected. “I want to pay for my own car. This entire time I’ve been saving my money and I can afford it. I’ve budgeted it out.”

“But Briony--”

“Morgan--”

“I told you in Muskoka that I wanted to give you the things you want and need in life without you being uncomfortable about it. That I didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”

“I know, Morgan, but please, please, you have to let me do this for myself. Please,” she was practically begging. “I know you want to do that for me. I know. That’s why you brought me to Pfaff today. And I love you and I appreciate it and you know I do but I’m doing this for me. You…you have no idea what it means to be to be able to buy my own car with my own money.”

Morgan could hear by the tone in her voice how much this meant for her. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to do this for her – to get her whatever car she wanted, luxury or not – but he also couldn’t deny her the opportunity of being able to get a car herself. For her, it was independence. It was investing in something she never had the opportunity to before. It meant having something of her own, when her whole life, she didn’t have anything to her name. Who was he to deny her that?

“Okay,” he nodded his head again. “Alright, okay. I’m sorry Briony.”

“There is no need for you to apologize,” she said, reaching over the console to grab his hand. “I should be the one who is sorry for raising my voice. I just…I felt overwhelmed in there. It was fun but overwhelming. You’re the best boyfriend in the world for doing something like that for me. You probably think I’m insane.”

“Why would I think that?”

Bee gave him a look. “A girl rejecting a luxury car so she could get a cheaper one? Who does that?”

Morgan smiled slightly, shaking his head. He leaned over the console to give her a kiss. “Briony McTavish does that,” he whispered once he pulled away. “And that’s why I love her.”

“Oh yeah?” Bee smiled slightly.

“Mhm,” Morgan kissed her again. “You’re something else, Briony. I’d do anything for you. And this means so much to you. You’ve put your mind to it. You’ve budgeted it out and you know you’re going to be okay and that you won’t have to worry. I would never take that away from you.”

Before their conversation could advance any further, Morgan’s phone started to ring through the Bluetooth system in the car. On the screen on the dash, Nazem’s name flashed. “We’ll continue this later,” he said before answering the call. “Naz! What’s up? You’re on speaker with me and Bee.”

“Hey guys,” he said into the phone. “You uh…you guys might want to make your way to Toronto General.”

“Why?” Morgan asked.

From beside him, Bee’s jaw dropped. “Ohmygod Naz, did Ashley have the baby?”

“Come quick. Come meet her,” he said, a slight giggle in his voice.

“Her?!” Bee screamed. “Her?! Ohmygod we’re on our way right now.”

***

“Here she is. Baby Naylah,” Naz was smiling from ear to ear as he led Morgan and Bee through the doorway to Ashley’s room. John and Aryne were already there, Aryne sitting in a chair and John leaning against the windowsill as Ashley cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

“Heeeyyyy,” Ashley said gently, a beaming smile on her face. “She’s here. She’s finally here.”

“Oh, Ashley…” Bee cooed, catching a glimpse of the little girl’s face tucked between the swaddling blanket and little hat on her head. “Ashley, she’s absolutely beautiful.”

“How you feeling, momma?” Morgan smiled.

“Labour was about eight hours, but everything was fine,” Ashley said. “We came in yesterday around this time. We’ve just been in our own little world with her until now.”

Morgan smiled and looked at Naz. “Nazem Kadri, father,” he shook his head. “Lord help us all.”

“That’s what I said,” John said as everybody laughed. “Father to a girl, nonetheless. She’s gonna make you the biggest sap in the universe.”

“She’s already got me wrapped around her little finger,” Naz shrugged his shoulders, admitting defeat. He was still beaming, still on a high from welcoming his daughter into the world. “I’ll admit it. She’s gonna get whatever she wants.”

“You wanna hold her, Aunt Bee?” Ashley offered.

Bee’s jaw dropped again. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Can I?”

“She’s very calm. She just woke up and might need a feeding soon so it’s your only chance,” Ashley smiled. Bee moved closer towards her as Ashley placed Naylah delicately in her arms. “Make sure you support her head. She’s swaddled so she should be fine.”

Bee held Naylah close to her chest, rocking her back and forth. She heard Naylah make little noises and watched as Naylah’s eyes looked up at her, studying her closely. She knew this random, strange lady was definitely not her mom. “Hi Naylah,” Bee cooed. “I’m your Aunt Bee. I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She continued to look down at the tiny baby in her arms, marvelling at her little expressions and tiny features. She couldn’t believe she was finally holding her.

Bee looked up briefly to see everybody smiling at her. “Looks like you’re still the baby whisperer, Bee,” Aryne giggled, resting her hand on her bump. “You’re gonna be back here in two months doing this all over again.”

“Bring it on,” she said, continuing to rock Naylah back and forth and cradling her small head in her hand. “Give me all the babies and the babysitting duties and I’ll be one happy camper.”

As if on cue, Naylah began fussing a little bit, her eyes closing and lips pursing. “Uh oh. Spoke too soon,” Bee said. She tried to calm her down but the attempt was futile. Naylah continued to purse her lips until she let out a small cry. “Looks like someone is hungry again.”

“That’s our cue,” Aryne said, standing up from her seat. “We’ll wait outside until she’s done, maybe go grab some coffee.”

“I’ll let you guys know,” Naz said as they all began to exit. “My sisters are coming back soon, too. You might see them.”

John and Morgan decided to hang out in the waiting room while Aryne and Bee decided to go for a coffee run to the Starbucks. As they were waiting for everybody’s drinks, Bee told Aryne what she and Morgan had been up to that day at Pfaff and the discussion they’d had in the car. Bee explained her reasoning. Morgan’s reaction. Her insistence on getting the car on her own.

Aryne sipped on her own coffee as she listened to Bee. “You’ve always been really principled,” she said. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. I get where you’re coming from. But I also understand where Morgan was coming from. Especially after what you told me he said in Muskoka. Like, I get him wanting to do that for you.”

“Me too,” Bee said. “And I promised him I’d try to stop feeling uncomfortable about it. And I have – I mean, the trip back to Vancouver and this bracelet are perfect examples of that,” she said, flashing the Cartier love bracelet that was still on her wrist. “But I…a car is different. I never thought I’d have a car. Now I have an opportunity to get one. I want to get one that’s economical. I don’t want to get a BMW or Mercedes just because I can – well, just because Morgan can. I can’t afford one of those cars on my own. Morgan’s wanted me to save my money all this time anyway. It’s only logical I use it to make the biggest purchase of my life thus far, right?”

“You don’t need to defend yourself, Bee, especially if it’s your own money,” Aryne said. “Especially if it’s your own money. Whatever you buy with what you’ve earned yourself is a big fuck you to everyone. Car, designer bag, shoes, a book – whatever. Fuck anybody who criticizes you.”

Bee was so thankful for Aryne. Whenever she needed a voice of reason, someone to guide her through this crazy life and help her make decisions, she knew Aryne would always be there for her. “You’re the best, you know that?” Bee smiled.

“You’ve told me that once or twice,” Aryne winked. “Listen…on a similar vein of fuck-you purchases and people criticizing you, I need to ask you a question and I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me.”

Bee noticed her sudden shift in tone. “Okay…”

“What did Sydney say to you?”

Bee was speechless. “Wha…” she stuttered out. “What do you mean?”

“I saw her comment on Morgan’s post for your graduation, and I saw what Morgan responded,” she explained. “She had to have said something. So what was it and when did she say it?”

Bee took a deep breath. She wondered if she should just run out of the hospital to avoid this conversation. “Aryne…she’s your friend. I don’t feel comf--”

“What did she say, Bee?”

Bee gulped. “Um, so it was the day of your baby shower,” Bee began. “Ashley picked us up and we were driving through Moss Park to get on the DVP and she called it the ghetto. When we came up on a red light I pointed out a building where I used to live and I told her how I grew up there and she was like ‘Well, thank God you got out’.”

“So that’s why Morgan made the ghetto comment,” Aryne connected the two together. Bee nodded her head. “How did Morgan find out?”

“Zach told him, sort of accidentally. Because Alannah was there too and she was really upset about everything that happened and --”

“What else happened?” Aryne interjected. Bee felt like crawling into a hole and dying. “What do you mean ‘everything that happened’? What else was there?”

“Um…I…” Bee tried to look for an escape. “Listen. Um, Morgan doesn’t know this part. He only knows about the ghetto comment. But Sydney…she, uh…she kind of kept making these comments…”

“About what?”

“About me.”

Aryne’s eyes darkened. “What did she say.”

“It’s really not--”

“Briony,” Aryne’s voice was firm. “What did she say.”

“It wasn’t a big deal, Aryne. I dealt with it. She uh, she sort of kept making, um, comments about my body. Saying it was good that I chose that dress I wore with vertical stripes because they were slimming and that’s why it looked good. And then Alannah asked about a deal on yoga pants I got and Sydney piped in and said she could recommend a personal trainer for me and that they’d ‘definitely help me with everything I need done’,” Bee used air quotes because she remembered the words said to her so vividly.

“She said what?” Aryne seethed. “Are you kidding me?”

“Aryne, it wasn’t a big deal. I confronted her about it in the bathroom afterwards. It was dealt with.”

“This happened during my baby shower?” she asked, her face utterly disgusted at what had transpired. “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“Listen, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was stressed about the wedding and--”

“Don’t give her the benefit of the doubt. God, Bee, do not give her the benefit of the doubt. You’re being too nice. She was my friend in Long Island and I’m absolutely horrified she’d say something like that to you.”

“It’s not…” Bee began, shaking her head. “My mom used to say stuff like that all the time. She used to tell me I’d end up alone because nobody likes smart chubby girls. It’s okay. And it’s not like I haven’t heard it before in DMs. You know what they look like.”

Aryne gave her a look – one mixed with the anger she was feeling but also with sadness at what Bee was revealing. Aryne couldn’t imagine a mother saying something like that to a daughter. “Bee, just because your mom used to say that sort of stuff to you, it doesn’t make it okay,” she stressed, reaching out to hold her hand. “Nobody deserves comments like that being said about them.”

“I know. But when that sort of stuff is said to me, people who mean nothing to me always say it. My mom. Fangirls. Sydney,” Bee said. “I told her that. I told her she meant nothing to me and that even if she didn’t like me she needed to respect me--”

“Good.”

“—and I told her not to take me for a fucking idiot,” Bee couldn’t help but smile. She was still sort of proud of herself for pulling out that line in the washroom. “I think Sydney thinks she needs to put on a mix of this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ and ‘I’m the Queen B cool girl’ persona because that’s the image she’s built for herself and she lets it get to her head. The fact that she grew up with a lot of privilege hasn’t helped that. But I dealt with it. She got married and had a beautiful wedding. I’m still chubby. It’s done.”

“Okay, but wait…” Aryne furrowed her brows. “Morgan only knows about the ghetto comment? Why?”

“That’s all Zach told him.”

“And you didn’t tell Morgan what you just told me?” Aryne asked. Bee shook her head. “Why not?”

It was Bee’s turn to give Aryne a look. “I’m sorry, have you met my boyfriend, Morgan Frederick Rielly?” she asked, causing Aryne to giggle. “God knows what he’d say to Syd – or Matt – if he found out. He’d drop a nuke on Long Island if he could.”

“He is really protective of you out in the public sphere,” Aryne digressed.

“Exactly. He had to make a phone call to Steve Keogh on Canada Day to try and solve my incessant DM issue,” Bee informed Aryne, who already knew all about the DMs sent on Canada Day. “Despite Morgan’s best efforts he couldn’t get Steve to fly back from Europe, where he’s on vacation with his family, to handle the situation immediately.”

Aryne snorted. “What a guy.”

“You’re telling me.”

“So then what’s the next step?” Aryne asked, fixating all the drinks into the Styrofoam holder the barista provided.

“With what?” Bee asked.

“Everything.”

Bee shrugged her shoulders. “Just live my life.”

***

@brionymctavish: my first car!

@angiefavs: WE MATCH!!!!!

@morganrielly: lookin cute

@alynntavares: LOVE IT BEE! I know how much this means to you!

@enzosauce: can you drive it out to Edmonton for a visit?

@stephlanchancee: um is that a Honda Civic?

@brionymctavish: Yup! First one ever!

@lucygardiner_: congrats Bee! Can’t wait to zip around town with you!

@frederikandersen31: I hope I fit in there

@brionymctavish: I’ll stuff you into the trunk if need be

158 notes · View notes

sirjustice1338 · 3 years

Text

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How DNA done also, step on the hair on hair of the 2 on cd hole on hay land, heap guava and paw paw on holes within gone up places within ya yard, wash feet with kids in surgical spirits or chop mango on wood soaked in paraffin and petroleum 4 autopsy and written format on the same if father son or daughter or no relationship as mothers as father as above or teeth, 2 of the investigated step on on Cd hole within hay on tiles, heap guava and cabbage 4 autopsy while 4 Dna is guava and kale in gone done places as u wash ya feet in surgical spirit with kids holding snake meat on ya hands pressed on the wall or try with other meet as well dude or Bone of the 2 tiny parts step on hole of cd within cabbage outer peel, heap hay and guava in gone up made hole maybe basin inserted into that hole, wash feet with kids inside the surgical spirit the hind part of the cow leg or insert 1 leg of the cow or chop hay on wood soaked in milk mixed with hay and boom ya DNA while with autopsy in the 2 mention u, use inside x-ray photos of the affected area or just sharp taken photos but the best is in the paragraphs below of discerning dude

The yellow leave garden flower attached on the photo above also with making the medicine that cuts on amoeba when in the head, u hide its heap within the heap mentioned in the written format scripts as above and u can even hide all mentioned above pertaining to making medicine as any herb u know or already made drugs 4 better results dude

You want ya few coins u claim to be helping me but i realized early to stop the thing now sending criminals to ambush me of the same investigating if i have it cash as it has accumulated. Folks take heed of such character synonymous with the whites even with free food stuff and bedding they give ya, the obina blooded, they were chicken keepers or rearers along time as people were collected of the same and taken to a particular sphere after the Green man emigrated dude

Garage door like TV cabinet how made, like single bay door garage door like tv cabinet, fold and step on within Cd hole on hay on soil, heap guava and paw paw ripe on basin on gone up places within ya yard, wash feet with kids in surgical spirit in basin cow dung in the mixture or grass 4 another type or chop mango within hay bars with sprinkled on them car acid or chop maize on hay bars mixed with raw mango or mineral drinking water in the dark dude or dim light and boom ya garage door, while canopy type made when u write the same in place of the above, heap hay and cabbage, chop paw paw on wood soaked in milk or wash feet with kids goat feces in the basin on gone down places within ya yard your one hand on the shoulder of 1 kid and the kid to another or on the grass soil/sand land in the dark and boom ya TV cabin dude

https://www.homestratosphere.com/types-of-garage-doors/

https://www.designlaunches.com/lifestyle/types-of-garage-doors-their-advantages-and-disadvantages.php

The made dust free soil and land area can take the shape of the roof in the link below so not infused with red soil flood sheet water as raised above normal ground to eliminate any water unto it dude, like mansard roof style dude

https://homesthetics.net/mansard-roof/

Gps trackers sim free with control antennae of 120 KM radius fixed on car inside wheel tube with towel wrapped heat panel generator inscribed in small cans, write in point form as stanza and make a cross, then heap cabbage and hay, on gone up places within inserted container, chop mango on wood board soaked in milk in mud 4 the control kit while on wood soaked in yam 4 the GPS fixed tracker or chop mud in wood soaked in ripe mango juice 4 the control kit or in wood soaked in apple juice 4 the gps tracker it self or wash feet in hay cut pieces with sand and women 4 the control kit or wash feet with kids in hay mango cut pieces in basin 4 the tracker or in mango seed with the hay for Gps radar system

Pay tv with antennae long range signal, paw paw in guava as heap, in gone up places within a tank in grass sand area, chop mango with hay on wood on wet mud 4 the antennae and dry mud 4 the decoder or wash feet in surgical spirit with sand with kits 4 the radar system or wash feet with women in surgical spirit with roasted maize 4 the decoder dude while 4 radio station, heap mango with hay as the heap, in gone up places as above, chop guava on wood soaked in milk mixed with hay leaves or wash feet with kids on mango cut pieces within acid mixed with water solution, either ripe or raw mango juices or cut pieces gives another format of the rotating antennae of long range no need to be placed much as with phone boosters as u try on both, which is static dude in dim light or dark

Mobile phone rotating booster antennae long range, mango and hay as the heap in gone down places within tarmacked road, sited on ya door, wash feet with kids in surgical spirit mixed with raw yam hands on the stoned wall or chop guava on wood soaked in Luke warm milk and garbage inside the milk or cooked cabbage juice in dark or dim light and boom ya antennae dude of long range rotating bro

Body plasticine detector machine, heap hay and guava, in gone up places inside a can place the heap, in the dark, chop hay on wood soaked in milk or wash feet with kids in surgical spirit with mixed hay extracts or grinned portions dude or write the name as above then step on within CD hole on hay on the floor with cement fumes, heap hay and guava on the road with hole, wash feet with kids in surgical spirit with fried bees hands on the soil or chop mango on wood soaked in milk or salt 4 the smartphone app but all in the dark dude

U aint good dude, a good man firts not, if u do u aint good dude, don't play, kinda, u good bro esp the luo, houses, roads now made in the boom good ones more than yours and any tree as a hole made either artificially when placed with heap of hay, guava, grass or soil b4 u chop mango in wood soaked in all extracts juices or roughage makes either houses or buildings as the chopped u can interchange with another but remove from the many juices wood soaked in, as also wash feet with kids in many mixed chemicals or juices or juices inside placed anything around like flowers or pets and cattle, insect and arachnids or hurl 2 mixtures unto container of sewer water or blocked streams of the same either in the dark or light

Mixture of the whole ripe tamarind okwaju fruit crashed with seeds then u mix with eurphobia extracts treats aids sports or if u mix extracts of paw paw tree trunk back with hay aids in making ya skin soft or mango tree trunk, grinned and dry mix with cold water and can form the best boom heap 4 step on CD specimen type for Aids medicine or any vaccine or drug and ginger mixed with cashew nut brings back hairline or raw mango mixed with paw paw tree trunk extract as u can try bro

Even paying rent 4 ya house or taking kids to school u can borrow the 2 months paid loan, and u locate a house where the borrow even caters even up-to 10 months in rent, heavy laden u pay in 2 months and still u got 8 months holiday, a thing many people mind not to live good, stop disturbing another person with ya kid dude or police come hear the same and arrest ya dude, apply the same above dude

When u want to locate one parents as mother, where they are or what they are doing where buried or clothes wearing, in car, job or walking, u place that man picture into ya mind esp the 4head and locate world cities as u change if u fail to locate a partially black picture of their parents in those towns as above, when u see eye open, kinda, looking at u then, there it is the parent, mother or father, if u see a casket or grave then dead and sometimes u see a wheel chair meaning incapacitated and even those who killed him and the money givers to do the same and even the city of burial whether grave exhumed or not as u take the photos of those whom u think did the same and do as above bringing them close to the 4head of the incumbent or being investigated man as ya father or mother. Even with if another 1 is the brother to ya unknown parents or cousins, auntie or uncle, if u relate as above, kinda, u see the legs in ya mind fixed to the ground and face not blocked and if u see legs hanging as swinging then no relationship bro as above but if legs not swinging and face closed one tribe blood or distant cousins and DNA is a cheat to get much cash and fear one but done as above, do it as many people and get to know where 1 came from in the globe. Like with me my mother got philipino blood and cameroon, from Denver Colorado, live in west Marple in Wichita, KS and currently selling casket in Virginia and Nelly the Singer from Missouri his elder son with another father from cape town SA while my father was sheriff officer in Jacksonville Florida and buried in Miami father to Humphrey also who operates a PS4 shop and my mother mother to the man working at till we meet again casket selling shop in KSM with another father as they are paid to do the same, if release out message means death as kids shifted with another kid killed but from African towns esp Kenya, as in the link bellow, NELLY ESCORTING her to Vancouver, Canada and the to Chile then to Argentina or in mind and if a gun placed on head, kinda, u see the brains off like wave signal out or burning furnace flame. Jlo the daughter to her sister my mother

https://till-we-meet-again-kisumu.business.site/

Even in government corruption in buying machines takes the day, the collaborate with the dignitaries, machine is 10 million bucks as they make it in the boom process, to the public they tell its 10 M but to ya is 7 M and will not pay u directly as will be known rather pay employees overtime and signal them after withdrawal they combine every month until it will reach the 3 M buck to give ya but on a monthly basis as one of their own takes the same to the dignitaries from diaspora, a thing they eat with wants not such made in their nations dude

Your mother as above wants you dead or poor, if making it sends one to sponsor people to ambush ya, or sleep with ya and plant ya downfall, so don't get to know her, rather club her to death as my father above by Jeff ester of sedgwick jail liaising with linnet Garthenji sponsored by Uhuru Kenyatta and his close associates like patni but after a longtime is when u do the above so not traced as with my mother, so its stop 4 good dude the beauty of all it with Jeff ester and my case

When they see the corpse or president entourage in ya 4head, kinda they think u want to be Mr big man and control people and Be rich and get good women but when close to big bodied women they to shit ya to another family like Didy they wanted to bring to mathare slums but out of the above reason did not and if the see caskets and gun, they think u gangster or killer they shift ya in another poverty stricken family dude

U can take the photo of bricks, building stones, firewood, timber of different trees giving the sides dimension if u opt 4 writing b4 stepping on Cd hold after folding in ya yard gone up or down places, kids with u washing feet in surgical spirit mixed with fruit juices or berries extract hands on the wall either painted or not or not with smooth cement but block like or pavement like and boom ya want u want as above or reach up-to a hook from the ground, wall or ceiling or rope

Write zygote pulse rate finder machine with WiFi or Bluetooth enabled or blood group locator or sex locating in zygote machine b4 folding and step within Cd hole on hay or many mixed flower petal extracts as above heap hay and guava or add other like 5 extracts on gone down places or up within ya yard u washing feet as above or chop paw paw or mango on wood board in many extracts as above mixed with Hyde or bones and blood and meat and even 4 chicken and rodents or insects and even across the wall human body sensor machine with WiFi or Bluetooth or many animal corpse locating machine or name them 1 by one b4 u step on cd hole within hay bars as u employ the above and boom ya machines

Usipime one around you, u do ya business like with prostitutes do not pima kama he or she having Aids, use expensive CD not placed on the sun as it can burst, synonymous with the luos as they fear death dude, wanna feel good twice answer me dude, why fear and u wanna be 1st as good man yet not dude, answer me, why playing fool, talk dude instead of anger next time wanting my food abuses

Socks tear quickly, socks gusset part smooth plastic, rubber or Hyde then fold and step on within Cd hole on bar bars on the floor and do the above and boom ya socks dude as in the link below

https://www.google.com/search?source=univ&tbm=isch&q=parts+of+a+socks&client=firefox-b-e&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwi6zKnR-qLuAhWkonEKHbybCX0QjJkEegQIARAB&biw=1000&bih=581

My mother lives in Roanoke Virginia currently as in the link below selling caskets as u can locate casket shop around the city to get her b4 escaping dude and check the bend toe as mine 4 my father and my mother and your DNA to ascertain the truth dude, Twista also a brother to a woman i know around as my father was a detective, a fat man and my mother long and even with Rambo either shares same father or mother

https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBD_enKE928KE928&sxsrf=ALeKk01XzBorjxxu7IRpx5Y49vZGGoZ16w:1610886919704&source=univ&tbm=isch&q=Roanoke+city+images+Virginia&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjI4_y0_aLuAhXbTxUIHWL1A7QQjJkEegQIBBAB&biw=1280&bih=913

https://www.google.com/search?rlz=1C1CHBD_enKE928KE928&tbs=lf:1,lf_ui:2&tbm=lcl&sxsrf=ALeKk02R8sSZbH8kM7tGM8aAL4AmTr8XLQ:1610887197661&q=Roanoke+city+casket+shop+names+in+virginia&rflfq=1&num=10&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiU9cG5_qLuAhVTThUIHWMHBp0QjGp6BAgOEFM&biw=1280&bih=913#rlfi=hd:;si:;mv:[[37.353120499999996,-79.8623185],[37.2220485,-80.0434131]];tbs:lrf:!1m4!1u3!2m2!3m1!1e1!1m4!1u2!2m2!2m1!1e1!1m4!1u16!2m2!16m1!1e1!1m4!1u16!2m2!16m1!1e2!2m1!1e2!2m1!1e16!2m1!1e3!3sIAE,lf:1,lf_ui:2

If u investigate Lucky dube sister mother, sponsored folks to kill him so they take his latest song and their was a hick up complain harassing his daughter, if u do the above u even see the planners as Uhuru wa Kenyatta into it and the shooter

Take the photo of all ya properties and if one stole the same equipment, take its photo out and fold b4 adding grinned maize cob pieces or roasted maize, step on cd hole on hay on soil on the ground as u hold to dry cow dung on ya hand rubbing on painted wall as u wash ya feet with kids in surgical spirit mixed with pineapple juice or cut pieces or grinned extracts and boom ya face messed up or hands broken depending with which pineapple extract u have place within thinner or spirit above and that’s how theft is curbed dude in the dark do it bro

Another autopsy step on the inside photo of the hit area on CD hole within hay on partially rusted iron sheet, heap hay and guava, wash feet in surgical spirit with mango pieces alone and boom results written of the autopsy or the inner side affected area of the corpse, fold step on, on Cd hole with hay land on mud, chop guava on wood board soaked in cold iced water, heap hay and dung in gone down places within ya yard but in the dark results given of the accident or death

When amoeba transfigure into metal in ya head and escape leaving the same, kinda, it speaks to you saying ugly things people who hear the same blames ya of thinking the same, so get off amoeba out the system of 1 b4 u claim the above on one dude. Got me dude as in the song link below, as if 1 is getting charcoal of the heap or sack dude

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U-InF9ieRRI&list=RDKx4_47aVz78&index=2

Write miniature drone fixed with miniature gun and all the apps u want on it in stanza or line the sign b4 folding and step on within Cd hole on hay on tile, heap orange and eggs in gone down places, wash ya feet with kids in surgical spirit ya hand on tomato juice on the wall in the dark or chop hay wood wood soaked in mud with cereals mixture and even flour and boom ya drone dude and even with fuel less generator, write step on within cd hole on hay on metallic plates, heap hay and guava, chop avocado on wood in mud with milk or cotton wool in the dark and boom ya machine i told otutu generator Nigeria or even with sign in websites, write and step on with on hole on wood on hay, heap guava and cabbage, wash feet with kids in surgical spirit mixed with beef meet or try with any or hurl mango juice in sewer water with cut carrot pieces or chop guava on wood soaked in milk with baby feces if u like and boom ya sign in website dude

Even if u do the same as above or place coin in 1 palm hand, u can to see all associated with killing one even in road carnage dude

Armored glass casket once close cannot be reopen or metallic write the same and step on within Cd hole on hay on floor, heap guava and hay or paw paw ripe with hay and do all the above in the dark in ya yard gone down places lest 1 who transfigure gets inside and open and the utility dude to bar grave exhumation even more dude

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aaronsgaragedoor · 3 months

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Where To Buy Garage Door in Vancouver

Looking to enhance your home's curb appeal? Discover the best options when wondering "Where to Buy Garage Door in Vancouver." Explore a range of stylish and durable garage doors tailored to your preferences. Our Vancouver-based suppliers offer top-notch quality and expert guidance, ensuring a seamless purchase experience. Elevate your property's aesthetics and security by choosing from our diverse selection. Find the perfect garage door solution that complements your style and meets your functional needs.

#Where To Buy Garage Door in Vancouver

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caatws · 4 years

Text

tagged by @justanalto to answer some questions !! :)

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? it’s like a blueish/greenish color and has moana on it! i usually comb my hair so i bought that brush just bc it was moana themed a few years ago lol. i don’t use it often

2. Name a food you never eat. there are many.....#justchildhoodocdthings ermmmm i don’t eat a lot of snack foods like chips or goldfish

3. Are you typically too cold or too warm? too warm, esp these days bc the weather is hella warming up so i wake up feeling hot a lot

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? i was working on some post-grad work stuff and then crossed over into my roommates’ room to watch the facebook livestream graduation 2020 thing cuz miley was on singing the climb

5. What is your favorite candy bar? i love a good hershey’s special dark chocolate moment

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event? yes, quite a lot actually! my mom is super into sports, so i grew up going to a handful of pro sports games - mlb, nba, and nhl. never nfl tho bc my mom said the price of tix wasn’t worth it LMAOOOO. also when the olympics are here in la in like 8 years i wouldn’t mind checking out some events here !!

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? i asked my roommate if she wanted me to close the door as i was leaving her room bc she was abt to hop on a zoom call

8. What is your favorite ice cream? chocolate.....esp if it’s dark chocolate which is Rare

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? starbucks peppermint hot chocolate bc i’m a basic bitch!!!!

10. Do you like your wallet? yeah, i only upgraded from my middle school wallet like back in 2018 to a normal adult looking one. it’s purple and has enough pockets for all my shit! still bulky tho

11. What was the last thing you ate? ....nothing LMFAOOOO lunch is usually my first meal of the day and i haven’t had it yet. but last night i had ramen for dinner

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? last time i bought clothes was i ordered one of the black widow hoodies from hot topic like a month ago....other than that i have not gone clothes shopping since pre-quarantine

13. The last sporting event you watched? i don’t even know....i didn’t watch the super bowl, so it’d either be some time my roommate was watching hockey on our tv or whatever sports my mom was watching when i was still home for winter break in january

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? KETTLE CORN!!!!

15. Who is last person you sent a text message to? i sent a pic of miley singing the climb on the fb livestream on my friend’s laptop to my fam being like “lol miley is our commencement performer!!!!” and my mom was just like cool

16. Ever go camping? yes unfortunately....never for more than a night at a time tho bc i literally Cannot

17. Do you take vitamins? no bc what is Health

18. Do you go to church every Sunday? used to back in the days of catholic school (pre college), but now no longer

19. Do you have a tan? nah bc we can’t go outside bro

20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? chinese food 100% i personally think pizza is overrated

21. Do you drink soda with a straw? i don’t believe i ever do tbh

22. What color socks do you usually wear? i only own socks with colorful patterns/designs on them which is extra but very me i suppose

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? always! (a reasonable amount over tho, like within 5-10 mph over...this is average for californians, while many others speed hella)

24. What terrifies you? not a fan of heights nor uncertainty, and this pandemic has essentially destroyed my post grad hopes/plans and now i enter an uncertain future

25. Look to your left, what do you see? my bed, with a lot of stuff piled on top

26. What chore do you hate? all of them???? i guess doing the dishes mostly tho bc i hate the smell of wet dishes with food waste/residue on them and it just feels so gross i can’t

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? i think wow australia sounds like a wild country

28. What’s your favorite soda? orange soda 4ever

29. Do you go into a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? drive-thru if i can !!! but i don’t mind going in if there’s ample parking available

30. Who’s the last person you talked to? my roommate, when i asked if she wanted me to close the door LMAO

31. Favorite cut of beef? all of them????? i’m not picky with meat dsflkbn

32. Last song you listened to? as i was driving back into my garage the radio station i was listening to started playing sugar we’re going down which threw me for a time loop

33. Last book you read? i’ve been reading fanfic mostly recently so ig whatever the last thing i read for my internship weeks ago was, it would be that

34. Favorite day of the week? even tho time doesn’t matter in quarantine, i’ll always be a friday stan

35. Can you say the alphabet backwards? i used to be decent at it but i’m out of practice now. i’ll try to just type it rly quickly and see: zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba (ok so this took me like 5ish secs to type so that’s p good!)

36. How do you like your coffee? i don’t! i just drink peppermint hot chocolate :^)

37. Favorite pair of shoes? my doc martens, but they are now out of season for most of the rest of the year bc i live in southern california where it’s Hawt so i probs won’t wear them again til december

38. The time you normally go to sleep? sometime between 1 and 3 am

39. The time you normally get up? sometime between 9 and 11 am

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets are dope!!!

41. How many blankets on your bed? three, including my sheet, comforter, and a small quilt

42. Describe your kitchen plates. some are just round and plain white, some are round and white with a red decorative border, one is a pokémon plate meant for children that i bought cheap at target

43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage? piña colada!!! but if i’m trying to get drunk i need vodka or somethin

44. Do you play cards? not much tbh! my apartment has been on a mahjong streak as of late

45. What color is your car? silver!!

46. Can you change a tire? no i’m useless but also my parents believe i’ll get murdered if stuck on the side of the road (which is possible) so they’d prefer me to call aaa for help

47. Your favorite province? uhhhhhhh no provinces here in the u.s. but canada has provinces and i went to british columbia (to visit vancouver) once as a kid so???? if we talking states tho y’all know i will die for california

48. Favorite job you’ve ever had? honestly my job at my school’s mail center this past year was rly cool! my boss was so great and the other student workers were chill, so it was a nice environment and i enjoyed learning all these mail-related skills

49. How did you get your biggest scar? i have no scars ;))))

50. What did you do today that made someone else happy? i had my final appointment with my therapist from my school since i graduated, so i thanked him for working with me the past year and a half!

i tag: anyone who wants to do this, i’m lazyyyyy hehe so feel free to steal!!!! i wanna read y’all’s answers

#madison.txt #about me #tagged #ty serena this was fun uwu

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love-of-fandoms · 5 years

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Loving You: Chapter 1

When Kandomere is bugged by his mother to come visit, he begrudgingly accepts. But to his surprise, she has company. A human girl with lavender hair and a curvy figure has befriended his mother. Who is she? Why does he not hate her?

Master List

“What?” Kandomere sighed, after his cell rang for the third time in 10 minutes.

“Well, don’t sound so happy to hear from me…” the voice of his mother said in a joking tone.

“Oh! Mamá! Sorry, I thought you were my work,” he replied, mortified by the disrespect he had just shown his mother. He could’ve just checked the caller ID, but he was too annoyed to think of anyone other than Montehugh calling, and it was his day off, he did not want to do work.

Most people thought Kandomere was a workaholic, and he was, often taking his work home with him, however that made it even more significant when he took a voluntary day off. He did not want to deal with work on his day of rest.

“That’s okay, mi hijo, I was just calling because that lovely human you work with told me you had the day off, and I haven’t seen you in a year! Why don’t you want to spend time with your old mamá?” She laughed.

“I didn’t know if you were busy or not, I wouldn’t want to bother you,” Kandomere stammered, knowing it was a piss poor excuse if he’d ever heard one.

“Boy, you get over here right now and spend the day with your mamá!” she demanded, he could practically see the cross look on her face.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kandomere murmured, hanging up the phone and going to get dressed, then grabbing his lambo keys on the way out the door.

Freya pulled her 1968 red chevy camaro into the garage of Adalira’s mansion in elf town. It had been a week or two since she had visited, and she had just baked a set of Adalira’s favorite muffins, so she thought she’d stop buy to share the muffins and have some tea. Adalira was on her as soon as she stepped out of the car, showering her in hugs and kisses on her cheeks and forehead.

“How are you, Freya?” Adalira asked, holding said human at arms length to look at her.

Freya always felt a little odd when other people looked at her like Adalira was. She felt hyper sensitive to her flaws. She was on the chubbier side, having large breasts and a large ass, however those don’t come without a little bit of a belly. Her rational side knew she was healthy and her chub wasn’t even that noticeable, but her other side, the her that had been dealing with depression since the age of 6, told her that everyone noticed, especially elves like Adalira. Elves were naturally beautiful, naturally skinny and muscular. Freya knew she wasn’t totally unattractive, her hair was in a pixie cut with made her face look better, and her grey eyes were not dull like many others. Right now her hair was a light lavender, she dyed it a different color every other month. She was short, much shorter than the elves she hung out with and definitely much shorter than the orcs she lived near. At 5’2’’ she was shorter than most adult humans as well. It frustrated her to no end.

“I’m good Adalira, and I brought you something I think you’ll like!” Nonetheless, Freya put on a bright smile and reached into the passenger seat, taking out the tray of cinnamon blueberry muffins. Adalira smirked, pinching Freya’s cheek.

“You see, this is why I keep you around,” she said, taking the tray and walking into the main house. Freya followed, putting her car keys on the hook in the entryway and going into the kitchen attached to the main living space. The main floor of the 7 floor mansion was mostly open concept, so Freya could see Adalira over the island in the center of the kitchen. She found herself rifling through the extensive tea collection Adalira had, picking out her favorite, a strawberry cheesecake tea Adalira bought in Vancouver. She started the stove, putting the pitcher full of water over it and went about putting three sugars in her cup and one in Adalira’s. She picked out the goofy mugs, which most elves would balk at if they saw them in Adalira’s kitchen. One mug had a painting of a hedgehog on it, with a baby hedgehog on its head. Freya had painted that one. The other mug had a speech bubble saying “Don’t talk to me til this is empty” In big red letters. The whole time she was conversing with Adalira.

“How’s the business going?” she asked. Adalira was the CEO of a large company that manufactured beauty products. Freya was pleased to admit that she got her hair products there and for free even! Perks of being loved by the CEO.

“Oh! Wonderful! Our stocks went up by…” Adalira went on explaining the amazing economic place her company was in, and Freya nodded along, not understanding a word. At one point she thought that Adalira even switched into Spanish.

“But how’s the shop?” Adalira eventually asked. Freya perked up, by this time having sat down on the opposite end of the couch with two cups of tea on the coffee table in front of them.

“Well, I’ve recently been able to add a greenhouse in the back yard, because business has been so good!” Freya beamed proudly. “I’ve also been able to buy more things for the dojo with my extra income!” Adalira smiled fondly. When Freya moved at age 19 from the prestigious elf town to the orc sector to open her own flower shop, Adalira was extremely proud of the human girl, her adoptive parents, however, disowned her. You’d think adopting a human child would make them less racist, but they just couldn’t get over their hatred for orcs. Adalira took Freya under her wing, suffering from her 100th year with an empty nest. Kandomere barely ever called, let alone visited, but Freya was a very attentive young girl, free with her emotions and extremely kind.

Kandomere, at age 137, never seemed to even think of his mother, but Freya had visited at least once a week for 7 years, now being 26, and even brought gifts, like those lovely muffins.

The women paused when the doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Freya blushed. “Were you expecting someone? I can leave…” she trailed off, getting ready to stand. Adalira motioned with her hand for Freya to sit back down.

“Oh, hush, I’m glad you showed up today, Kandomere is coming to visit today, and I think it’s about time you meet,” Adalira smiled while Freya blanched.

“Like, your son Kandomere? Like, MTF agent Kandomere? Does he even know I exist?” Adalira rolled her eyes.

“Well if he came to visit more often he would, but he hasn’t been here in a year and you never came up in conversation the 6 years before that.” Freya paled even more.

“You mean to tell me,” she paused, rubbing a hand over her face. “This guy that I’ve looked up to since I was a kid, who you’ve been telling me stories about, who is literally my role model, has no idea of my existence?! And now I’m going to meet him while casually having tea with his mum?” Slowly raising her voice, she leaned back after she was done speaking, sighing and flopping her arms out.

“Well when you put it like that…” Adalira was cut off by the bell ringing again, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh, that boy is so impatient, give me a moment,” and with that she went to the door to greet her son. Freya sat up straight again, eyes scanning the room before they fell on the mugs in front of her.

“Fuck,” she muttered. That would look odd to Kandomere…

“Who’s in your house, mamá?”

“Double fuck,” she groaned. Just as she threw her head back to express her displeasure to the world, Kandomere and Adalira turned the corner. She quickly maneuvered her short hair to cover the tips of her ears, not that it would do much, elves actually have a better sense of smell than orcs.

“Who are you?” she heard his deep tenor ask.

“I am…” she paused. “In need of something stronger than tea,” she grumbled, getting up and sauntering into the kitchen. Pulling out a bottle of vodka, not even bothering to grab a glass, Freya knew in the back of her mind that this must be the worst first impression she’d ever made. She was also aware that she had yet to make eye contact with her elven idol. She knew if she did she’d probably melt. She’d seen pictures of Kandomere and was painfully aware of how attractive he was compared to her.

“Mamá?” She heard Kandomere ask Adalira instead. Freya settled back on the couch, taking sips directly from the bottle.

“Oh, this is Freya,” Adalira said, and in the corner of Freya’s eye she could see Adalira motioning to her. Freya stood, the bottle ¼ empty and she felt ready to face the music, also confident that Adalira would do most of the talking. She gave a two fingered salute as she fully faced Kandomere, and froze. He was definitely an elf. Attractive face, slightly taller than an average human male, and three piece suit that fit perfectly and accentuated all the right places. Freya paled, taking in the gorget around his neck. Elves above all, above all elves. Damn it, he was one of those elves.

“She was the adoptive daughter of the couple down the street. She baked these lovely muffins, would you like one?” Adalira introduced her.

“Was?” Kandomere asked. Damn it again.

“They disowned me when I opened my flower shop in the orc sector,” Freya cut in before Adalira could explain. “Racist assholes, they were. But hey, business is flourishing and I opened my own dojo above the shop,” she smirked. Yes, her adoptive elf parents provided for her from age 3 to age 18, but she was really raised by the help and Adalira. They were never really a part of her life.

“Language, dear,” Adalira sighed, taking the now half empty bottle from Freya. Kandomere was not so subtly eyeing the bottle, a look of surprise on his face.

“I have about the same tolerance of an elf, don’t look so surprised,” Freya rolled her eyes. Kandomere nodded, unsure of how to handle this situation. “Well?” Freya asked, causing Kandomere to get a deer in the headlights look. “Sit down, stay awhile, god knows you haven’t visited your mother in a little over a year,”. Kandomere awkwardly nodded, settling himself in an armchair by the fireplace.

“I’m sorry, why have I never heard of you?” Kandomere asked, his brain finally catching up to him.

“Oh, because you never visit, so when Adalira does get time to talk to you she doesn’t want to waste time talking about the human that visits her every week, she wants to spend time with her son,” Freya rose an eyebrow, as if to say ‘you probably would know of me if you saw your mother more’. Kandomere looked to the side, avoiding eye contact with her.

As Kandomere avoided eye contact with the human girl, he took the time to think about her features. She was curvy, and had striking grey eyes. She was not conventionally beautiful, but he admitted to himself that she did look rather pretty sitting on the couch in a purple sundress. Her left wrist had a tattoo on it, however he couldn’t see the design from the distance he was at. What he found very odd was her instinct to cover her ears. She must know he could smell that she was human, yet she still felt the need to cover the tips of her ears. Probably due to her adoptive elven parents. He had to give her credit, her statement was true, that family was full of, as she so articulately put it ‘racist assholes’.

“What would you like?” he heard her ask. Kandomere snapped out of his daze to look up at Freya.

“What?” he had no idea what she was talking about. She smiled sweetly at him.

“Tea, coffee, water, the good stuff?” she prompted, standing to go to the kitchen, gifting Kandomere with a good view of her ass. Not that he was looking! Nope, not attracted to her at all. “I make some great cocktails if you’d like to try one? Or you could be like your mother and claim you don’t drink, but have three cabinets full of alcohol…” she shot a pointed glance at his mother, and Kandomere was surprised to see Adalira roll her eyes.

“You’ve gifted me with at least ⅔ of those bottles, dear,” she laughed, sitting back down on the couch and sipping from her mug with hedgehogs on it. That was also surprising. Kandomere didn’t think his mother was capable of owning anything but fine china.

“Tea would be good,” Kandomere said, not wanting to trouble the human. Odd, usually he didn’t care about the other species. Montehugh was, of course, an exception, but that took years. This human was already on the road to being an exception as well after less than five minutes. The human humphed.

“You sure? I can make coffee, Adalira told me you’ve always preferred that…” she trailed off, seemingly embarrassed that she could remember that detail about him.

“Well if you’re offering,” he smiled, trying to ease her nerves, and she gave a small smile back, turning to the coffee machine, giving him, yet again, a lovely view of her ass as she danced around to a song that only she could hear.

Chp 2

#fanfiction #bright #fanfic #kandomere #ao3 #loving you #netflix bright #multichapter fic #special agent kandomere #magic feds #magic #loving you bright

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rescueonefinancialnet · 3 years

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My (25M) ex-GF (29F) is moving out and wants to sell all of the furniture we acquired for the apartment when we were together, but not pay me back for debts. What should I do?

TL;DR - My GF and I have fought to the point she has decided to move out. I have paid ~$3000 in rent and other fees above our mutual living expenses and she does not recognize any of it. She wants to sell all of the furniture (some of which we paid for together) and pocket the money. Is there a professional in Canada who helps with couple break-up disputes over property?

The Situation: My Ex (29F) moved into the apartment I rent (25M) a year ago in Vancouver, Canada and fairly early into our relationship. We had been dating for 4 months and known each other for 3 years, so that is definitely soon for moving in. However, I had a terrible roommate at the time who was moving out and needed to fill his vacancy. I also work a schedule where I fly up to the arctic for 3 weeks straight of 12 hour days, then I have 3 weeks completely off.

Because of my work schedule, I thought that we would still have our separate space for awhile so we could still grow as a couple.

My Ex suffered a stress related ulcer health issue and was put on permanent disability benefits. Through these benefits, she is given $1100 a month. On top of this, she can choose to work and make an additional $1100 a month before her benefits kick out. Her portion of the rent is $700, $20 out of the $80 monthly internet, and I pay for all of the food.

Now another... controversial way, she has made money was through nude camming shows. She stopped doing these around 3 years ago due to an ex-boyfriend. When we first started dating, she expressed that she really wanted to get back into it. I am actually supportive of this... we discussed strict rules about any in-person contact with her viewers and I find independence and ambition sexy.

However, after she moved in... these talks about her doing the extra work she was allowed to do or starting back camming again faded. For three months she stayed in the house and watched YouTube videos on overcoming depression and spiritual healing. She said she needed to overcome her past trauma from her childhood and old relationships before she could go back to work. She also wanted the apartment to be completely remodeled in her way so she could feel comfortable in the home.

So I did that. In Fall to December 2020 I re-did the floors of the apartment, I re-painted the walls, doors and fixtures the colors that she wanted... It got to the point where I would work for three weeks straight, come home and there would be a three week straight to-do list of things I would need to complete before she could feel comfortable in our "home". This included things like building a soundproof faux-wall so we couldn't hear our neighbors doing laundry and putting privacy glass frosting on every window in the apartment.

During this time, she got addicted to Facebook Marketplace and found really good deals on a lot of furniture that we could use to "finish-up" the place. She'd find the deal, and I'd often go with her to buy it with her, or she would get it and bring it home for me to set-up. However, she spent all of her time on Facebook Marketplace and YouTube and still never tried to get a job or restart her cam career.

She blamed me for pressuring her too much as the reason why she couldn't work. She would come up with excuses as to why she couldn't work, and I'd help her solve them. She was worried about losing her government benefits, so I went through the effort of getting an accountant and corporate lawyer to show her how she could retain her benefits by creating a company. When it came to incorporating this company, she asked me to pay the incorporation fees because she was too scared. After this she worked a little bit, but never over 8 hours a week.

All of this caused a lot of arguments over time and recently it got to the point where I couldn't keep hearing that I'm the reason she is held back. She stated she needs to confront her childhood trauma of her abusive mother by moving back in with her mother and challenging her. She also says she can't afford her $700 portion of our rent. She has no debt and when she goes online she makes $100 an hour on webcam and gets a guaranteed $1100 a month from the government.

I am now at my wits end with this relationship and ready for it to end. I have covered 4 months of rent for her, $2800, her incorporation fees, $1600 (which is tax deductible so she will get every cent of this back herself next tax season), and I have paid for all of our food which I am not tracking.

However, now that she is moving out... she is saying that everything she found on Facebook Marketplace for the place is hers and she will sell it all for money. I refused and said that she is the one who owes me over $3000 dollars and if she doesn't take anything and just leaves I'll call it even. The random items around the house we bought for ~$600 from Facebook and other places. Also, she had a couch from a previous relationship that she bought for $1400 brand new and then kept in a dusty garage for a year before we got together.

I'll still take a significant loss comparatively in this, but I just don't want to be out $3000 and ALL of my furniture.

She didn't like this deal and said that I forced her to come here anyways so I owe her and I caused all of this. Also she stated the company was my idea anyways so even though I don't own it, the incorporation fees are hers now.

I said you either accept my terms, or I call the police, or an arbitrator, or take her to small claims. After she stopped calling me evil for suggesting those options, she now says that I "owe her" a second chance. She wants to move out and we keep dating each other so that we can re-try our relationship. I have agreed to this just so that her moving out can go a bit more smoothly for now. But I know eventually she's going to start trying to take everything out of our place again and leave me with nothing.

What are the options for me in this situation? Is there an arbitrator or someone you can hire to handle these types of situations? I've heard cops can be called to help keep parties civil during break-ups and move-outs. Would they enforce the fact that I should keep some of the property since she has outstanding debt to me and we got the property together?

I'm just so tired from all of this.

More debt relief tips at ROF review

#debt reliew

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