[sticky entry] Sticky: Contact Post

justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Saturday, February 14th, 2009 04:58 pm
Hi, this is Jarod.

If you're looking for me, I probably don't want you to find me.

If you need help, and you're not attached to anywhere in Delaware, I'll find you.

But I'm almost always happy to talk, so leave me a message.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Thursday, January 28th, 2010 09:15 am
I am sorry, I have been most remiss.

16: Starting Over

I do this all the time.

Every job, every city, sometimes every day.

I have to, it's the only way I can make up for what they used me to do.


19: Sexuality

...is very confusing.

Don't, Parker. I know you think it's simple.

I love you. I miss you.


21: You woke up today as the opposite sex.../Describe your life if you had been the opposite sex

I... think I would rather not.

I am entirely capable of simulating that course of events, but... we are discussing the Centre.

And I would not have had Sydney.


22: When I grow up I want to be...

I can be anything I want to be! *laughs, shaking his head, looking so much younger than he should*

...and 'growing up' is such a strange phrase.

justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Monday, October 12th, 2009 09:04 am
[locked to the 'residents' of the [community profile] musing_way, and to Sydney's particular IP]

*laughs* At the moment, I'm still at least working half the time doing testing for Toni.

The other half of the time... well.

I am what I am, and I have my particular goals.

There's always someone abusing the power or influence that they have to cause -- or hide -- harm they have done. I don't always hear about it, however, I am fairly good at finding those situations.

I suppose you could call it a gift.

I simply find it useful.

I was used for so long to cause harm... I prefer to end it, where I can.

I'm anyone, or anything, I want to be. And it's always interesting, seeing the world through so many different sets of eyes as my Pretends are.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Sunday, September 20th, 2009 01:42 pm
The best lesson I ever learned... I learned from the pair of children involved in one of my pretends.

They'd lost their father in the mystery I was solving and their mother had not been in their lives for years. I thought they were going to be without family.

I was wrong.

The woman that had been involved with their father – I saw her with them, saw how much she loved them both.

That's when I realized that it doesn't always take blood to be family. Another time I learned that blood doesn't always make family.

It takes love.

Father's Day is a strange concept, but... that was a good one.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Friday, August 14th, 2009 11:59 am
[locked to [personal profile] ironmaiden, [personal profile] old_csat, [personal profile] lion_cub]

I live each day without the things I crave most. I suppose that makes this both a familiar question, and an easy one to answer. There is some good in everything? I live with the barest scraps of knowledge of who I am, where I came from. Without the gentle strength I know my mother's presence would be. Without any ability at all to know my younger sister – this may in some ways be a blessing. If I cannot know her, the Centre cannot find her to exploit her as they have my brother and myself.


I live for both of us, without the knife-edged power of his presence and the delightfully wondering joy of his new discoveries. I miss him more than I can stand, on some days. The brilliant clarity of his understanding and the dark edge to his smile. I would give almost anything to be able to feel even his pain again, though I would never wish him to hurt.

Without the woman who I – despite all reason, in spite of all our history – can do nothing but love, and miss, and desire. Pulling her along after me is no salve for how much I wish things could be different.

With only the barest, filtered presence of the only father I can remember having. I miss you, Sydney.

I hope, one day, that the answer to this question can be something entirely frivolous, because I already have what I truly want.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (anyone i want)
Friday, August 14th, 2009 11:48 am
[Locked to [personal profile] doctor_sydney, [personal profile] lion_cub, [personal profile] ironmaiden, [personal profile] old_csat]

The strongest woman I knew -- has been lied about for the majority of my life to everyone that had any care for her. The Centre told us all that Mrs. Parker, Catherine, had committed suicide that night. That she was sick, and weak. That she had chosen to kill herself, to leave her daughter and her husband. [The second at least is true.]

She was not weak. She was good, and kind, and compassionate. Open and warm and infinitely generous -- and for it they murdered her, almost in front of her young daughter. I will never stop hearing her screaming. She was better, and stronger, than any of the ambitious, monstrous, power-hungry men that had so much power in all of our lives. She was trying to save us -- Angelo and myself, Dannie/Einnad, surely Kyle (she would not have left him in Raines' hands), Miss Parker – from what the Centre intended to do to us all. What it did to us all, without her there.

She was brilliant, as well. Tracing the patterns of what she had hidden away before her death has been by far a greater challenge than evading Sweeper teams and search patterns. That her hidden boxes and retreats have lain untouched since 1970 is nothing less than a testament to the sharpness of her mind – and, I suppose, the loyalty she had from those that supported her aims. That her work kept some of the Centre's stolen children safe for so long – until my escape, at least – is every bit as impressive in its own right. Escaping the Centre's reach can be near impossible, after all. They have their tendrils everywhere.

There are moments that I think that the only way to escape them is death. I refuse to accept that thought.

I will not give in that easily.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, gleeful (playful)
Wednesday, August 5th, 2009 07:15 pm
[locked, quite firmly, from [personal profile] notmonica, and any and all Centre IPs.]

Every hour he spends without cameras, Sweepers, guards, glass, concrete walls... is an hour he cherishes, even after the time he's had outside. A couple of years, after all, have a long way to go before they catch up with most of his life.

The ability to breathe air that hadn't been filtered and recycled and pumped down stories of sublevel ducts, to watch the play of clouds on the grass, feel the radiant heat of the sun -- or the cold of rain and snow -- against his skin is a gift he clings to every moment of. Now that he's learned how to deal with the incessantly loud world around him, he's come to cherish that as well, all of the noises of people and the things they create, despite the headache he had had the first weeks of his freedom until he became used to it.

Then there're the boats, trains, planes, space shuttles, cars... all of these things he had only technical knowledge of before. Nothing had ever told him that the speed of them feels like that first taste of freedom every time he's behind the wheel or the tiller or his hand's wrapped around the throttle.

All kinds of freedom, and he's not giving any of it up. Ever.
justjarod: jarod from pretender, anyone i want to be (Default)
Sunday, July 19th, 2009 05:02 pm
Jarod turned his head at hearing a dark complaint, one of the men on his team unhappy with the summer heat they were working under. "It's hotter than a burning building out here."

"No it's not," he said, surprised at the words despite how many times he had seen that people said the strangest things sometimes. "Burning buildings routinely reach temperatures of 1500 degrees Fahrenheit, it's not even a tenth of that here..."

"A) How the heck do you know that, and B) why do you take everything so literally, Jarod, man?" his teammate replied, rolling his eyes as they hauled at the line.

"I worked in a firehouse for a while," Jarod replied, shrugging off the rest of it. "I was raised by a very -- methodical, I think -- person. It stuck."

"Well, un-stick it, dude, you're such a wet blanket sometimes."

"Wet blanket? That seems an appropriate metaphor for what you were saying earlier, but what does that have to do with bein -- oh. Another reference I'm missing?"

"Shit, somebody else deal with this guy, wouldja?"
justjarod: jarod from pretender, smug (smug)
Sunday, June 28th, 2009 04:04 pm
Jarod shook his head, slow and quiet, looking at the newspaper he was reading through with a long, thoughtful glance. 'Daddy issues' -- slang for the 'Electra complex', he knew from too many Pretends as some form of counselor -- this newspaper article was pressing all of his instincts that there was far more to the story of a fatal accident than anyone had found.

He hated the cases like these, the ones that threw in his face all of the ways that family can go so horribly wrong. They frightened him, always made him wonder if what he still dreams of could go just as wrong as some of these stories showed him -- and then he remembers the desperate scream of 'I love you' from his mother as she jumped back into the cab and ran, the single flash of his little sister's hopeful face, the way Sydney stepped into the path of the Sweeper team's car long enough to give them time, hears the longing in Kyle's voice again as he said 'have you found anything?' If they can still love this much, when they've been separated for so long -- he won't ever believe that when he finds them, it will turn out badly.

He's refused to believe that since the day he escaped. He won't change it now, no matter how many times the world -- and the life of people he loves despite himself -- has shown him that family can hurt each other far worse than strangers. He has to believe that his will be one of the ones that doesn't. He has to.

He took a breath, looked at the article again, and started planning just how he was going to make this one turn out... 'all right.' There really was no 'all right' for this, but... more true, maybe. And getting the young woman to the help that she would need, if he was right -- and he normally was -- would be worth it.