#He’s been travelling with me for like 7 months now and his fleece is starting to pill so i’m hoping this remedies it

[a-crowcats-nonsense]

i have to wash my Rui plush today remind me to take pictures of him while he’s wet and pathetic

[scapegrace74-blog]

Don’t Call It Love

A/N  With Saorsa done and dusted, it’s time to return to the Metric Universe.  When we last left Jamie and Claire in October 2017, they were sharing comforting silence and attending a Depeche Mode concert together.  Will things fall easily into place now that they have tripped over the line from being roommates to being friends?   Oh, hell no.  What would be the fun in that? 

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Zero 7 (another guest artist!) that inspired the title is here.

Winter, 2017 - London, England

It happened by accident.  Happenstance.  Serendipity.   Fate.  The words she used to explain the fact that she and Jamie started seeing each other outside of the flat in social circumstances that would typically be characterized as dates varied, but her opinion remained fixed.  They weren’t dates.  Jamie was her roommate, a good friend, a fellow enthusiast of the culturally obscure, and a brilliant pub trivia partner.  They had both agreed that a romantic relationship between them would be disastrous; ergo, there was nothing romantic about their increasingly frequent outings.  If she could memorize the names for the 206 bones in the human skeleton, she could certainly manage to keep her feelings for Jamie inside the tidy box she had built for them.

Non-Date #1

They crossed paths inside the massive Spittalfields Market, both of them with shoulders damp from the chilly November rain.  Jamie was on his way to the fishmonger, while Claire carried a cloth bag filled with late-season vegetables, determined to eat something other than take-out on a rare day off from lectures and the hospital.

“Are ye on yer way back tae the flat, then?” Jamie asked, physically fighting the urge to offer to carry Claire’s wee sack.

“No, I’m off to the charnel house first.”

“The what, now?”  Surely he’d misheard her.

“The charnel house.  Don’t tell me you’ve been living over top of a medieval burial ground all this time without realizing it?” Claire teased.

Intrigued as much by her beguiling smirk as the opportunity to explore a bit of London’s history, Jamie followed Claire to a commercial highrise near the edge of the market.  Descending a non-descript stairwell in Bishop’s Square, they came to a halt in front of a glass wall.  On the other side was an excavated ruin, the crypt of the long-vanished chapel of St. Mary’s Spital hospital, a quick scan of a nearby information plaque informed him.

“They only discovered it was here when construction of the office tower began,” Claire said, a wistful look on her face.  “For centuries, travelers and the victims of London’s many plagues were buried around the hospital, quite literally in the Spital fields.  When the graves overflowed, they brought the excess bones here and stacked them for safe-keeping until the Apocalypse.  Imagine, forgetting something so...fundamental.”

Jamie grunted in acknowledgement, seeing the reflection of Claire’s face superimposed on the glass.  He couldn’t decide if this human tendency towards forgetfulness pleased or disappointed her.

“Tis rather...”

“Macabre?” she suggested with a grin, turning away from the display and climbing back into the cloud-roofed square.

“I was gonna say morbid, but as ye like.”

“We build our present on the bones of our past, my Uncle Lamb used to tell me.  He was referring to archaeology, but I’ve found it to be true of life itself.”

They walked back to the flat, collars raised against the hastening rain.  Jamie had bought enough hake for two, so they shared the narrow worktop, dicing fresh vegetables and letting their shoulders bump together occasionally.

Claire ate at the two-person dining table while scrolling social media on her phone.  Jamie used the coffee table to hold his plate and the gaming magazine he was flipping through.

It wasn’t a date.

Non-Date #4

Her cellphone rang as she was leaving the bathroom, thoughts bouncing between her end-of-semester exams and her non-existent plans for the Christmas holidays.  She accepted the call with one hand while starting the tedious job of separating her soaking curls with the other.  At first there was only static.  She glanced at the screen, recognizing the familiar number.

“Jamie?” she tried.

“...mac na ghalla, Hamish...” followed by muffled noises and masculine jeering.  She switched hands and started to towel off, making certain first that the video call button wasn’t active.

“Hal-lo.  Paging Mr. Fraser.  You have a call on line one.”

“Ach, sorry Claire.  I didna mean tae... That is, the lads were just... How are ye?”

She giggled at his discomposure.  “I’m well, thank you.  And you?”  They had seen each other that morning, as he came off shift and she was leaving for her morning lectures, so she assumed there was more to this call than a polite inquiry into her state of well-being.  She had learned over their months as roommates that sometimes you just needed to wait for Jamie to get to his point.

“Braw, thank ye.  I was... weel, I’m at the park with some o’ the lads, tryin’ tae put t’gether a side, an’ we’re short a winger, an’ I was jus’ thinkin’, ye said ye wanted tae learn tae play an’...”

Another James Fraser quirk was that he rambled in broad Scots when he was nervous.

“Jamie, are you asking me to play rugby with you?”

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  If ye wish, o’ course.”

“I did just step out of the shower...” she mentioned, already peering outside at the threatening sky and mentally assessing her wardrobe for something suitable for a ruck and maul in the rain.  “Hello?” when there was no sound from the other end in some time.

“Aye, I’m here.  Nevermind, Claire.  I dinna consider, ye must be gettin’ ready to study fer yer finals, an’...”

“Where are you?” she interrupted, opening a drawer and pulling out a pair of yoga pants.

“Victoria Park?” Jamie replied, sounding hesitant and hopeful.

“Give me twenty minutes.”

“Splendid!”  She could hear his smile down the line.

“I better not get mud in my hair, Fraser,” she retorted before hanging up, her own smile lingering on her face.

There was nothing romantic about rugby.

Non-Date #7

The flat was strangely forlorn, even with Christmas lights twinkling merrily in the living room windows and a tiny fir tree precariously balancing its five ornaments standing in the corner.  

They had exchanged their gifts on December 23rd, sipping on hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua and grinning shyly at each other.  She’d bought Jamie the next Call of Duty game for his XBox.  Nothing intimate, just something he’d mentioned in passing he was looking forward to trying.  His boyish glee upon unwrapping the package warmed her more than her drink.   Hands shaking slightly, she delicately opened the tastefully wrapped rectangle he presented to her.  Inside was a cashmere scarf, luxuriously soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it.

“Is this?” she asked.

“Aye, tis the Fraser plaid.  Ye ken there’s no’ a clan named Bee-cham, right?”

She was deeply touched, and thanked him was a kiss against his scruffy cheek.

Jamie had left for Scotland the next day, having somehow managed to secure a week’s worth of leave from his uncle over the holiday season.   As was her wont, she’d put down for as many shifts as possible while medical school wasn’t in session, but by some fluke she wasn’t scheduled to work New Year’s Eve for the first time in recent memory.

Some of her classmates from nursing college had invited her along to a “raging party in Shoreditch”, but she’d made up some excuse.  The truth was, she wasn’t in the mood for loud music and over-priced drinks with a group of virtual strangers.  If Geillis had been in town, she would have allowed her friend to coerce her into whatever mayhem she had up her sleeve, but Geillis was still in Columbia and eight months’ pregnant with twins, to everyone’s collective shock.  Especially the mother-to-be.

No, what she really wanted was a quiet evening at home, snuggled under her favourite fleece blanket on their couch, the latest Ferrante novel in her lap and a glass of Pinot Noir at the ready.  Jamie had a turntable and a surprisingly well-curated selection of vinyl in his bedroom, but she didn’t like entering his domain without his permission.

Without giving it a second thought, she rang his cell.  It was only upon hearing the raucous sounds of a party in full swing that it occurred to her that just because she was spending New Year’s Eve alone, it didn’t mean Jamie was as well.

“Claire?” he yelled over something that sounded a lot like live music.  “Are ye all right, lass?”

“Oh!  I’m so sorry, Jamie.  I just wanted to ask... never mind.  It’s not important.  Enjoy your party...”

“Wait!” the background noise mutated, sounding like a riot underwater, and then there was a wooden slam.  Jamie huffed a sigh of relief.

“Mu dheireadh.   Are ye still there, Sassenach?”

“Still here,” she confirmed, suddenly feeling sorry for herself.  She might be the most pathetic thirty-year old in London.

“Did the hospital no’ call ye in for a shift, then?”

She tucked the blanket under her feet, warding off the chill that always seemed to creep in from the wall of windows.  The Christmas lights she’d strung reflected against the glazing in alternating colours: blue, red, green, blue, red, green.

“No. By some miracle of the festive season, I have the night off,” she joked halfheartedly.   “I’m sorry for interrupting your night out.  I wanted to ask if I could borrow your turntable and a few of your albums?”

“O’ course.  Ye didna need tae ask.  An’ I’m no’ out.  I’m at home, at Lallybroch.”  He pronounced the word with a guttural flourish that made Claire think of an exotic kind of pastry or a rare tribal custom.  Any time Jamie spoke of his family’s home in Scotland, he imbued it with an otherworldly quality, like a fortress in a fairy tale, a far away land of warriors and mist.  It was strange to think of him there now, while she sat alone in their flat.

“It sounds like quite the party.”

“Aye.  The Frasers take their Hogmanay celebrations verra seriously.  Ye shoulda come wi’ me.”  Then, as though realizing what he’d said, he added quickly, “We could use a doctor.  Dougal sprained his ankle doin’ a sword dance, and Angus singed his arse somethin’ fierce jumpin’ o’er the bonfire.”

She laughed, her mood suddenly much lighter, and asked for more particulars as to how his cousin’s naked ass came to be in close proximity to open flame.  Without either realizing it, the last minutes of 2017 crept by.

Fireworks erupted outside, followed by the tolling of bells and honking of horns.  On the other end of the call, she could hear cheering and an off-key rendition of Auld Lang Syne.  They were both silent, embarrassed to have been so caught up in their trivial conversation as to have missed the arrival of midnight.

“Happy Hogmanay, Sassenach,” Jamie’s voice came soft and sure over the line.

“Happy New Year, Jamie,” she replied.  “I should really let you get back to your party.   Your family must be wondering where you’ve disappeared to.”

He hummed noncommittally.  It occurred to her that had they been in the same place, they would likely be kissing right now.  It sent a shiver of want down her spine.

“Jamie?”  Her voice sounded thready, like she had just woken from a deep sleep.

“Hmmm?”  Shivers, again.

“What’s a Sassenach?”

He laughed softly, and she had to bite her lip.  What was the matter with her?  “Tis a Scottish word for a foreigner, particularly an English one,” he explained.

“You’ve never called me that before,” Claire remarked.

“I’ve ne’er spoken tae ye while on Scottish soil.  T’wasn’t an accurate description ‘til now.”

There was a long silence.  She could hear the sound of revelry through the door of whatever room at Lallybroch he’d hidden inside.  Outside the flat there were firecrackers.   They reminded her of mortar rounds heard from a distance in Afghanistan.

“You don’t like fireworks, do you?” she guessed.  It didn’t take an advanced degree in psychology to know that bright flashes and sudden pops of sound would trigger his PTSD.  They really were a mess, the pair of them.

“Nay.  Jenny an’ Ian’s bairns love them, an’ I told them no’ tae hold off on my account, but they insisted on a bonfire instead.  It reminds me o’ when I was a lad, a’fore ye could buy fireworks along wi’ yer ham at the local Tesco.”

Jamie launched into a long account of the significance of bonfires in Highland culture, and she let herself drift on the melody of his voice, the turntable long forgotten.

“Tell me about yer most memorable New Year’s,” he prompted after his cultural diatribe wound down.

“Oh, well, they all rather blur together, actually.  Too much drink, too much spent on the cover charge.  You know how it is.”

“Nah, I mean when ye were younger.  Ye must ‘ave celebrated in some remarkable places.”

She thought back to her time spent following Uncle Lamb around the globe.  Truth be told, traditional holidays weren’t something that stood out in her memory.  They felt like a foreign custom, a series of drawings taken from a picture book that showed a mother, father and children crowded around a loaded table while snow piled up outside.  They bore no relation to her reality.  It was no wonder Christmas and New Year’s left her feeling ambivalent.

Still, she didn’t want Jamie to feel sorry for her, so she launched into one of her favourite tales.

“One year, I must have been eleven, Lamb was leading an excavation of a Berber oasis town in northern Mali.  The site closed down for the Christian holidays, but Lamb decided to stay behind rather than travel back to England.  We ended up riding camels through these enormous sand dunes, following a local guide on an ancient caravan route.  On December 31st, just as the sun was setting and we had begun to make camp, the camel Lamb had been riding let out this infernal noise, leapt to its feet, and started to gallop away.  Lamb and the guide set off after it on foot, hollering and waving their keffiyeh in the air.  It was the funniest thing.”

“They left ye all alone in the desert?” Jamie asked, horrified.

“Oh, well, they came back eventually.  The camel had been stung by a scorpion, you see.  Once it got over the fright, they were able to catch it and bring it back to camp.”

“Were ye no’ scared, tae be out there in the dark by yerself?”

“No.  Not as I remember it.  The sunset was glorious, and little by little the sky came alive with a million stars.”

“Ye brave wee thing.”  Jamie sighed.  “I wish I was there wi’ ye.”

She didn’t know if he meant with her on that sand dune, or with her at their flat.  Either way, her answer was the same.

“I wish you were too.”

They finally hung up well past two o’clock.  It didn’t count as a date if the other person was five hundred miles away as you whispered goodnight.

Non-Date #12

The Royal London was expanding its pediatrics wing, and Claire was invited to a fundraising gala held, fittingly, in the Museum of Childhood.  The invitation included a plus one, and she’d been putting off asking Jamie if he could join her all week.  It wasn’t that she doubted his suitability as an escort.  Far from it.  But the gala was taking place on February 14th, of all nights, and the symbolism made her nervous.  Still, the alternative was spending the night being hit on by a drunken internist or hedge fund investor, and that was a headache she could do without.

“So,” she began casually a few nights before the event, “any plans for Valentine’s Day?”  If he said he was working or had, god forbid, a date, she would just have to go stag.

Jamie set down his gaming controller and turned to face her desk.  The pulsing  colours from the screen lit his curls like a neon nimbus in the dim room.

“Nah, nothin’ definite.  An’ ye, Sassenach?” he asked tentatively, as though easing himself out onto a frozen lake, unsure of the depth of the ice.  The nickname he had assigned to her during his holidays in Scotland had stuck.  She didn’t correct the inaccuracy, as she rather liked the idea of having a name that was only his.

“Well, I’ve been summoned to a fundraising gala for the hospital, and I was wondering... not that you need feel obliged... it’s black tie, which is really the height of pretension, if you ask me... anyway, there’s no way to decline gracefully short of an aneurysm, so...”

“Out wi’ it, Sassenach,” he prodded.

“Mightyouconsiderbeingmydate?” she blurted, before taking a large gulp of tepid tea.

“Yer date?” he asked as though he had never heard of such a thing.

She sighed, resigned to the fact he was going to make this difficult.  “Yes.  My date.  My plus one.  My social companion.  And hopefully, my defence against spending the evening being pitied and set up with someone’s second cousin, Nigel, the chartered accountant.”

“Do ye have somethin’ against accountants, then?”  The corner of his lip was twitching with the birth of a grin.

“Oh, very funny, you bloody Scot.  Look, I need a date on Valentine’s Day and you are the only man in the Greater London Area who won’t interpret that as an opportunity for a pity shag.   The offer is on the table.  Take it or leave it.”

Something flashed behind his eyes that she couldn’t interpret.  Then it was gone.

“Ne’er fear, Sassenach.  I’ll protect ye from all the wee Nigels.”

***

She’d forgotten to ask whether Jamie had suitable attire for a black tie event.   It was too late now, regardless.  They were meeting at the museum, since she was on shift until eight.  Using the nurses on-call room to get changed, she slinked into her burgundy chiffon gown, its gauzy layers wrapping around her like millefeuille.   Her hair was a lost cause, so she slicked it back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck and hoped for the best.  Silver chandelier earrings and a dab of cologne below her jaw, and she was ready to go.  She carried a small beaded clutch and her dress shoes - there was no way she was navigating the Tube in stilettos. 

The museum was a single massive space, conversation and the tympani of glassware echoing against its high-arched ceiling.  She stood in the entryway after checking her coat, spinning in circles and trying to get her bearings.  More than one lascivious glance was directed her way, but she studiously ignored them in favour of looking for Jamie.  With his height and red hair, he shouldn’t be hard to pick out of the crowd.

There was an appreciative murmur from behind her, a gust of fresh air, and then a soft tap against her bare shoulder.  She turned around.

No.  Not hard to pick out from a crowd at all.  Standing before her was James Fraser in full Highland regalia.  He wore his family tartan, a black velvet waistcoat, brilliant white dress shirt and a black bow tie.  When her gaze fell to the floor, she noticed his polished brogues and white socks pulled up to his knees.  She’d never before considered how a man’s knees might be alluring, but there it was.   Jamie had very sexy knees.

“G’d evening, Sassenach.  Ye look... weel, ye look bonnie.”  Jamie’s normally deep voice was gruffer than usual, perhaps on account of the cold night air.  Or maybe his bowtie was tied too tight.

“Good evening, Jamie,” she replied once she found her voice.  “You look, well, if you were a Jacobite, I’d say you looked regal.”

The tops of Jamie’s ears went red, and he ducked his chin, his tamed curls falling briefly forward.  It gave him the look of a bashful child receiving unexpected praise, completely at odds with the strikingly masculine figure he cut.

“No’ a Nigel, then?” he teased.

“No.  Definitely not a Nigel.  Come, let’s get something to drink before all the top-shelf liquor runs out.  You wouldn’t believe how much some of these doctors can put away!”

Jamie was a perfect date.  He stood by her elbow as she mingled and greeted various colleagues and professors, nodding at their tales of medical misfortune and smiling at their awkward jokes.  He spoke confidently about his work and current affairs, and patiently tolerated endless jibes about what a true Scotsman wore beneath his kilt.

When she politely excused them from one such conversation, he leaned over to whisper in her ear as they walked away to fortify themselves with more alcohol.

“I’ve a mind tae lift my plaid an’ moon the entire assembly the next time one o’ yer wee doctor friends asks about my underthings.  Are ye sure they arena raising funds for a new proctology department, Sassenach?”

She snorted in a truly unladylike fashion and turned to meet his unrepentant smirk.  Just then, a figure approaching from the bar caught her eye.

Oh no.  It couldn’t be.  After five years, she’d finally relaxed her vigilance, had ceased anticipating his presence at every turn, and now, here he was.

“Sassenach?” Jamie was watching her with concern.  The blush had drained from her cheeks, leaving her wine-stained lips and sintering eyes the only colour on her face.

“Claire!  Fancy meeting you here!”  Had his voice always been so nasal?  His eyes so glassy and vacant, like portals into nothingness.  He’d obviously been drinking heavily.  A blond woman half his age had her arm linked through his.

“Frank,” she uttered his name.  Jamie stepped into her side, his posture erect, somehow sensing that she needed his protection from this unheralded threat.

“Well, isn’t this a surprise.  I’d heard you’d gone into the army, or some such thing.  Afghanistan, was it?  Well, with your penchant for violence, I suppose that’s fitting.”

She breathed deeply through her nose.  She would not let him get the better of her.  She wasn’t that person anymore.  With a clammy hand, she grabbed onto Jamie’s fingers where they rested around her hip.  He squeezed back.  He was here.   She wasn’t alone.  It was all the strength she needed.

“Yes, that’s right.  I served overseas for a time, but I’m back in London now.  In medical school.   Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were just leaving.”

Focusing on each step, she turned towards the exit, Jamie’s hand now warm upon the small of her back.  Her chin wobbled, but she bit down hard to stave off tears.

“A doctor?” Frank taunted from behind her.  “Wouldn’t a demolition expert be more apropos, darling?”

She froze, spine trembling with anger.  Jamie made a questioning noise, asking without words if she wanted him to intervene.   She didn’t.

Glancing over her shoulder, she dealt her parting blow.

“Give my best to Amelia and the children.”  Without waiting to witness the aftermath of her pronouncement, she made her way out into the chilly night air, Jamie’s bulk a silent sentinel at her side.

It wasn’t a date if it ended on the floor of your bathroom, crying ugly sobs as mascara stained your cheeks, while your partner held your shoulders and made soothing noises with his throat.  

That wasn’t dating, that was survival.

***

mac na ghalla = son of a bitch

Mu dheireadh = finally

[lonelyheartsclubhaze]

Chilly mornings away from home

January 2019 // Chapter 4

Soft piano notes waded their way into my mind, rousing me from sleep. Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 1” complemented streaks of sunlight that seeped in from cracks between the window shutters.

I rolled onto my stomach, patting along the bedsheets, searching for the alarm’s source. Locating my iPhone under a fluffy body pillow, I quickly tapped the snooze button, earning myself nine more minutes of repose.

Mornings were always so disorienting. I still had yet to remember where and when I was. Such things could wait. Clinging onto that snoozy state of nonexistence, I didn’t want to wake up. I was eager for unmindfulness.

Inevitably coming to, dizziness hit like a military grade tank as I realized that my bed was facing the wrong way. My morning senses spun westward from their southern-facing expectations. Cracking my eyes open a few nanometers more, baby blue walls, rather than white, met my gaze. I faced a medium size flatscreen TV set atop a brown cabinet bordered by cream, cushioned seats and a black mini-refrigerator.

It was so easy to be surprised by mornings. Here I was, expecting one thing and receiving another. It wasn’t a huge deal, and they were natural mistakes, but jeez, was I caught off guard. My bed typically faced a window on the southern side of my room in Berkeley, confined by white walls under high ceilings. Unlike my room in Berkeley, however, the ceilings in this place were much lower with windows much wider. My forgetfulness fading, I remembered why I was in this barely decent Denver hotel room, namely, for a job interview.

Grimacing, I also remembered that the aforementioned job interview had taken place yesterday—giving me a sense for why I might have preferred snoozy states of nonexistence to waking life. It was for some technician role at a Pharma-lab. And while they didn’t pay anything close to what Ajay would be receiving at Facebook (while still remaining just as controversial), money was money. Plus, it seemed like a good way to boost my med school app during the summer. Worst case scenario: I’d just spend the upcoming summer studying for the MCAT, which had to happen sooner or later. At this rate, however, it was looking like the worst case scenario would be my only scenario.

Oh well. With a redeye flight the next morning and the interview out of the way, I had a day to kill in Denver. Classes were still on hold for another week-and-a-half and since everyone was home for the holidays, Grace had offered to put me up at her place for the day. She was supposed to come by around nine AM to pick me up.

I rubbed my eyes and pulled up the blanket. The AC units at hotels were always freezing cold—particularly on especially inconvenient occasions, like now, right smack in the middle of a January morning. I flipped over my phone and turned off the alarm. The clock read seven-twenty-one AM. Just enough time to get ready and grab a quick bite before Grace was to arrive.

My hands smacked against the headboard of the bed mid-stretch, my wrists rolling as I struggled to fully wake up. Sitting up, I checked my phone for missed messages, sending out short, succinct text messages where they were needed. I cracked my neck and thrust my legs off the tall bed, my feet grazing the hotel carpet. I stood up, stretching my arms toward the spinning fan that hung from the low ceiling, and started toward the bathroom, tossing my iPhone onto the bathroom counter.

The shower roared to life with the turn of a knob. I grabbed a hotel-provided toothbrush and some paste on my way to the shower, along with a travel-size bottle of CeraVe foaming face wash. Inside, water rushed over my short, black hair, splashing onto medium broad shoulders and size ten-and-a-half feet as I washed my face. After mopping my chest, toes, and everything in-between with an ivory bar of soap, I squirted some toothpaste onto the brush and got to work, counting out one-hundred-twenty seconds in my head. Finally, I turned off the water and reached around the shower curtain for a towel. Drying myself off, I stepped out of the shower and packed up my bath supplies into a compact travel bag.

I shook the towel over my head to dry my hair and tapped on my iPhone screen to find one new notification. Hovering my face over the phone to unlock it, a blue message from Maddie read:

To which I replied:

She followed with:

Heart racing, I replied:

Two minutes passed. I held my breath.

Four minutes—then, a small blurb of text underneath my last message read:

Read 7:46 AM

I sighed and put down my phone. My face contorted as a profusion of expletives rushed my thoughts. Shouldn’t have double-texted her.

I supposed that it didn’t matter too much. She was with someone, anyway. When I’d seen her in December, before we’d left for winter holidays, she’d been at Bear’s Ramen House in the Asian Ghetto—the food hub a block from Sproul Hall—eating with some guy I’d seen around, probably on campus. He was a moderately wealthy, white kid from Marin studying one of the various biology sub-majors offered by Cal. He was also a junior, like Maddie, so a year ahead of me, as if his towering six-foot-three-inch figure wasn’t enough to give him a leg up on me with regards to Maddie. I didn’t know him all that well, despite having had a discussion section or two with him, though we greeted each other with a polite nod of the head when passing by one another in the Valley Life Sciences Building (VLSB) or in the library. To be honest, I didn’t even remember his name, just his face. His outfits often consisted of athleisure wear from Nike and/or Champion, giving off the impression that he played sports. I wasn’t quite sure whether or not this impression was accurate, but I did sometimes see him on the Glade or other grassy campus sites playing Spikeball, accompanied by peers with faces I vaguely recognized.

We’d often talk, Maddie and I. Sometimes I’d run into her on the spiral staircase at VLSB—the stairs that’d curl around the large, plaster T-Rex model to face broad windows on the east, granting access to the morning sun. She’d be on her way to a bio lab downstairs; me, on my way to the private, grad student bathroom that I’d secretly gained access to on the second floor. The restroom upstairs was protected by a keypad, but the code was too obvious: 362 362, or DNA DNA.

“Wonder where you could be going,” she’d say.

“Just need to make sure my hair is okay. I’ll do whatever it takes to get a few extra points from Professor Meighan,” I’d joke back.

“Do you poop here everyday?” she’d ask with wide eyes. “Or maybe you just like seeing me, huh? Is that it?”

I’d freeze up.

She’d laugh, saying, “Maybe a little bit of both, right, J?”

“Nothing gets past you,” I’d mumble.

“You’re funny,” she’d say. “You should have your own TV show. Maybe once you’re done with your residency you can join Grey’s Anatomy, or Scrubs. Or maybe you can have a talk show! Like Dr. Phil, but more funny and less depressing.”

“What about me gives off the impression that I’d ever want to have a TV show, at all, in any way whatsoever?” I’d say, shaking my head.

“See? Just like that! Always asking the right questions! Like Ellen DeGeneres but all doctor-like.”

She tended to tease me a lot. I didn’t mind. In fact, it was probably part of her appeal—definitely was, on second thought.

Like a good portion of the many pre-med students out there, Maddie was a biology major. Berkeley offered a few different options for bio students, and I’m pretty sure she was studying molecular and cellular biology, though it’s hard for me to say. If I wanted to remember something about her, I’d write it down in my iPhone notes. Otherwise, my hippocampus tended to toss it out, preferring to form memories of her nose, her lips, and those low cut shirts that left me off balance.

We’d text back-and-forth about classes, sometimes. A lot less after I saw her eating with what’s-his-face. I didn’t blame her.

My phone read eight AM. I tossed on a waffle knit shirt and long johns, then a Columbia fleece and Levi jeans, topping it off with an aged ski jacket that I’d ‘borrowed’ from Adam, who was up in Tahoe at least twice a month in the winter. I slung the beaten, black JanSport backpack containing my belongings over my shoulders and headed out the hotel door, making for the elevator.

The room door shut quietly behind as I banked right into a narrow corridor housing four elevators, two on each side. I pressed a button to summon one and within a minute, the light above the furthest elevator on my right blinked on. The door opened and I entered, clicking the button indicating the main lobby of the hotel. The door shut and the elevator fell five floors before slowing to let in an older, Black woman wearing a fitted, bell-shaped hat.

“Ground floor?” I asked.

She smiled sweetly. “Yes, honey. Thank you.”

We descended the final four floors in silence. Arriving at the ground floor, the elderly woman smiled and nodded at me before exiting first. I followed her out, glanced down at my iPhone, then diverged from her path as I headed toward the central lobby to check out. After snapping my room key card in half, I left the hotel, walking toward a Caribou Coffee a few blocks north.

Under the warm skies of Seal Beach, California, where I was born and raised, people tended to take their coffee with ice more often than here in Denver, Colorado. Every Friday, my mother would pick up an americano for herself—black, with no cream or sugar—on her way to work. I’d tag along as a kid, but sooner than later elementary school drop-offs morphed into middle school bike rides, then high school walks with pretty girls I swore I had a chance with, and then the here-and-now, flying Economy for interviews that wouldn’t yield job offers.

It’s funny—when I was a kid I practically hated being seen with my parents. At back-to-school events—the evenings when parents conglomerated to celebrate the annual accomplishments of their children—I wouldn’t be caught dead near my family. Somehow, I thought it made me look childish, or immature. After graduating from high school, however, I started seeing them less and less, and I began to find myself missing mom’s morning espresso runs more and more.

It seemed as though I must have picked up my mother’s coffee drinking habits, because when I arrived at the Caribou Coffee on sixteenth street at approximately eight-twenty-five AM, I too ordered an americano with no cream or sugar.

“That comes out to three-thirty-nine,” said the female barista. She wore a black apron over red and black striped under-layers, with a white wool beanie on her head, and deep black mascara on her eyelashes.

I thanked her and handed over three dollar bills along with some loose change from my jacket pocket.

“On second thought,” I said, retracting my hand. “Can I also get one of those?” I gestured to a blueberry scone behind the glass counter.

“Sure. Just three extra dollars.” she said.

I counted out three extra dollar bills, handing the money to the barista. Then I walked over to a small rounded table situated near the entrance and sat down. Scanning my iPhone, I saw that Grace had texted me, so I responded, asking her to pick me up at the Denver sixteenth street Caribou Coffee. Then I put my phone away and tapped silently along the underside of the table, slightly impatient for my pastry and drink.

I wondered what Grace had in mind for the day. I hadn’t seen her since—well, I suppose it wasn’t that long ago—final exams last semester. Personally, Grace and I had yet to have a class together, but Adam always took one or two bullshit classes with her, so she was often around my house anyway—especially during the week of final exams, when they’d study together all day long. As an English major, she had it pretty easy schedule-wise. She hardly stressed, at least outwardly, and was rarely overburdened with work, so she never missed a chance to chat it up with my housemates or me when Adam brought her over. She was really likable too. Even Albert got along with her, making small talk about Proust or the latest Pulitzer Prize winning novel from Jennifer Egan, and that’s saying a lot.

She always made it a point to stop by my room upstairs, at 2231 Dwight, waving ‘hello’ to me before vanishing for hours into the recesses of Adam’s single downstairs. I really liked that about her.

A small vibration from my left pant pocket convinced me to reach in. I pulled out my iPhone and saw that Grace had texted me. She was to arrive a bit early, in fifteen or so, around eight-fifty-five AM. She was driving in a black Honda Civic, she’d said. I texted her back to let her know that I’d be ready.

“I’ve got a medium americano and a blueberry scone!” called the barista.

I stood up, pulling my jacket over the chair to mark my temporary territory, then hurried over to the counter to grab my order. “Thanks,” I said before hurrying back to my table, balancing the warm, paper cup in one hand with the scone in the other.

Sitting back down at the table, I huffed down the scone. Then I took off the lid of the cup, wisps of steam condensing on the furl of my lip. I blew gently, cooling the drink.

I sipped slowly, then decided to put on my jacket and wait outside. Grace would be here any minute and I didn’t want her to miss me. I was getting sick of waiting by myself anyway. Walking outside, an icy burst of air cut right through me. I shivered, then zipped up Adam’s ski jacket. It was a good thing that it wasn’t snowing, because it was cold enough as it was.

I paced around for a bit, rubbing my hands to keep warm, until finally, a black Honda Civic with a freckled girl at its helm slowed to a stop slightly ahead of the sixteenth street coffee shop.

Grace rolled down the passenger window. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said back. My pace quickened as my feet approached her car.

“I missed you, dude,” she said. “Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing outside.” A crimson hoodie hid most of her delicate contours, though the graceful arcs that formed over her breasts hinted at something more. The left side of her chest housed a star-shaped sports logo with the words ‘Broomfield Soccer Club’ below in a decorative typeface.

I opened the car door and hopped into the passenger seat. Gusts of warm air ruffled my hair.

She reached over the center console and squeezed me in a close hug. “How was break?”

“Pretty good. I mean, I was finally able to—”

“Bruh,” she groaned. “Did you read Science?”

“What?”

“The magazine,” she said, squinting her eyes.

I cocked my head to the side. “Was I supposed to?”

Grace rolled her eyes and sighed. “Can you?”

“Is there something I should be looking for?”

“Oh my god. Take out your phone.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, right now. Jesus-fucking-Christ, J.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling the iPhone from my jean pocket.

“Okay.” She cracked her finger knuckles. “Google ‘butterflies’.”

“Grace—” I started.

“Come on. Look it up.”

“Okay. Just because you’re asking.” I opened Chrome’s mobile browser on my phone, typed in ‘butterflies’, and pressed ‘search’.

She cleared her throat.

“Butterfly,” I read. “An insect from the ma-cro-lep-id-opt-er-an clade Rho-pal-o-cer-a, from the order Lep-id-op-tera—”

“No!” She snatched my phone and scrolled down. “Here. California’s monarch butterfly count drops by eighty-six percent, just last year!”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is butterfly watching a hobby you picked up over break or something?”

Her jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

I coughed to cover a laugh. “I mean, I didn’t know you took butterflies so seriously.”

“God, and I’m supposed to go to a guy like you for my yearly checkups?” she gasped.

I put my hand on her shoulder. “Grace—”

“I don’t want to hear it, insect-killer.” She blew aside a tuft of hair from her forehead. “So, how was it?”

“How was what?”

“How was break?”

“Oh. Right,” I said. “Well, I finally got around to watching that show you and Adam were talking about last semester.”

“Peaky Blinders?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, it’s really good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I really like Tommy’s brother, Arthur. I think he’s funny. I’m not too sure how I feel about Polly yet, though, but then again I’m only on season three.”

“Adam fucks with Arthur too. Personally, I’m more of a John-kinda-person. I think he’s less murderous than Arthur. Kills too much. How’s Adam doing, though?”

“Honestly, you probably know better than me. Haven’t seen him since we left for home.”

“I feel it.”

Grace made a sharp right onto the I-25 freeway, accelerating until our speed plateaued around ninety miles per hour. I gripped the sides of my seat—ninety was a little too fast for my tastes. I considered myself a defensive driver. Dull buildings bordered the freeway shoulders, and I tried to focus on them to distract myself from Grace’s driving.

“What do you say we stop by a park or something, J? Not really tryna see my parents right now.” Grace glanced at me, her hands still on the wheel.

I felt a bit queasy watching her take her eyes off the road. “Yeah, works for me. Something going on?”

“Eh, the usual. Just get sick of ‘em being home for so long,” she said. “But anyhow, I have a ball in the trunk. We can kick it around or some shit.”

The road grew bumpier as we drove over a waterway on the way to Grace’s neighborhood. Spoiled by scenic coastal sights on the drive up to Berkeley, the glum scenes around me felt sobering. I tapped my foot, eager to get out of the car.

Eventually, Grace took exit 225 on the right, keeping left to merge onto East One-hundred-thirty-sixth Avenue. We passed a stucco structure with a sign that read ‘Broomfield’.

“Almost there,” said Grace. “I know just the spot.”

Finally, Grace made a left into a small parking lot bordered by bright green, grassy fields on one end and unkempt trails on the other. “Quail park. I grew up playing soccer here.”

I looked around. I was glad to be there—it certainly yielded better views than the drive had. “It’s pretty.”

Grace popped open the trunk and pulled out a soccer ball and pump. She filled it with air quickly, then gestured for me to carry the ball. We walked over to the open fields, brushing permafrost aside as we squished the grass beneath our feet. Back and forth, we kicked the ball to one another, Grace showing off every now and then by booting the ball over her head and onto her knees, juggling it for ten, maybe twenty bounces before passing it back to me.

“So?” she said. “Did you kill the interview?”

I winced. “Not exactly.”

Grace toed the ball inward, using its momentum to whip the ball onto the flat of her foot. With a touch of force, she tapped the ball into the air and into her hands. “Come on, J. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

I smiled a bit. “It really was though.”

She laughed and dropped the ball to her feet. Passing it back to me, she said, “Ah, whatever. You don’t want to work in Denver anyway. You’re not cut out for it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, look at you. You’ve been shivering your ass off since I picked you up, dummy. And I have heated seats!” she said.

“Hey,” I started. “You’re not wrong.”

“Rarely am. Anyhow, how are things with, uh, you know . . .”

“Maddie?” I finished.

“Yes, right, Maddie.”

“She texted me this morning.”

“Oooooh,” said Grace. “How’s Brandon gonna feel about that?”

Ah, right, Brandon. How could I forget?

“Brandon . . . Right. Well, I doubt that it’s a major concern of his at the moment. She left me on read anyway.”

“Oh. Well, it’s her loss anyhow. She’s missing out on a star athlete!” said Grace as she punted the ball, knocking me square in the chest.

“Fucking shit!” I howled.

“You sound like Adam more and more everyday,” she said.

“So dreams do come true.”

“Isn’t it funny,” said Grace, juggling the ball on her quads. “Don’t you feel like certain words belong to certain people?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, don’t you associate certain words with certain people? Like every swear word with Adam, for example, and or maybe, I’m sure there are some you have in mind for Maddie or whoever.”

“You sure you’re not projecting, Grace?” I asked.

This time she threw the ball at me, and it proceeded to hit me right on the head. We kicked around for another hour or so, talking about this or that—how final exams went; our plans for the semester; and Pac-12 Women’s soccer, despite an utter lack of knowledge regarding the sport’s conference on my part. Around five-thirty in the late afternoon, we decided to get something to eat, so Grace drove us to a Vietnamese spot called Golden Bowl Noodle House which she heralded as the greatest phở restaurant on the west coast.

We sat down in blue booth seats across from one another, red and gold walls bordering us on my left. A large, square, green painting depicting an ocean scene lined the wall between us. I ordered the same thing as Grace, the Combo Number One, which consisted of a small rare steak phở, 2 spring rolls, and an iced tea. Grace asked to change hers to a warm tea, which was probably the better move in hindsight. Our drinks arrived first, and we sipped on them slowly. I was hungry—blueberry scones could only provide so much sustenance.

A robed Asian woman, with a slight hunch in her back as she hobbled over, arrived with a tray carrying two bowls of soupy noodles; four translucent wrapped appetizers; and a small dish with bean sprouts, Thai basil, and other add-ons. She bowed slightly and left us to our meals, so I looked over at Grace who had already taken her first bite from a spring roll. I followed her lead, feeling the cool cloak of rice wrappers over fresh shrimp, cilantro, and basil. Taking a bite, my teeth met shrimp with just the right amount of snap, the unexpected tang of hoisin sauce gifting a pleasant surprise.

Grace smacked my hand. “Use the peanut sauce! You gotta appreciate it properly, cuz some people can’t. Did you know that the rate of food allergies is increasing rapid as fuck—especially in developed nations like the US?”

I did as she said, dipping the spring roll into the gloppy, brown sauce. She wasn’t wrong—it was better that way. After swallowing my last bite of the spring rolls, Grace tossed some bean sprouts into my soup and squeezed lime juice over my bowl.

“You know this isn’t my first time eating phở, right?” I said.

Grace hushed me and continued eating. I watched her twirl a handful of noodles into her chopsticks, lifting them to her mouth over a soup spoon. Noisy slurps concluded with sapid bites followed by quick sips of tea. Rinse and repeat.

I opted for a fork, twisting firm noodles around its prongs as best I could, gulping down spoonfuls of savory soup in between steak and noodle bites. I watched the red meat cook to a brownish hue, the hot broth’s steam parting like sea waves under my chin.

“I’ll give it to you,” I said. “It’s good.”

Grace glanced at me, nodded, and continued eating. Finishing promptly, she leaned back into her chair and exhaled heavily.

I rushed to keep up with her, but it took me significantly longer to finish. Sooner or later, the robed woman limped over with the bill. I rose to my feet and met her halfway. I pulled out a Mastercard and slipped it into the folded check before handing it back to her and sitting back down with Grace.

“Real gentleman, aren’t you?”

“It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me today. Besides, you’ve just introduced me to the ‘best phở on the west coast’, right?”

“Suppose that’s true. Okay, you’re right, dinner on you.”

The restaurant owner signaled that I could take back my card, so I walked over, tipped four-and-a-half dollars, tucked away my card, and we left for the car.

Grace’s eyelids were a bit heavy, so I asked her if she wanted me to drive. She handed me her keys and jumped into the passenger seat. After I buckled into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition, she directed me to make a right out of the parking lot. I drove slowly back to her house, which was only ten or so minutes away, then pulled into her garage. The garage led into a two-story, vinyl sided, upper-middle class home with a comely, green lawn out front.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest room.”

I followed her over hardwood floors into the living room, where a tall, white man with square sunglasses over his eyes and a black beanie atop his head shuffled through TV channels with a remote. The lights were off in the room even though the sun had set a little less than an hour prior.

“How are you doing, sir?” I asked.

“Wassup?” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “How are you today, sir?”

“All good.” He took a long draw from an IPA resting on the coffee table in front of him. “Catch y’all. Gracey—you got trash, yea?”

Before Grace could reply, a voice called from the kitchen around the corner, “I got today, hun!”

We nodded in acknowledgment to the man and turned to leave. “Must be your dad?” I asked.

“Yup,” she said. And that was the end of it.

I followed Grace into the kitchen. A woman—her mother, presumably—with a polka dot apron around her neck and a noticeable accent in her voice greeted us warmly. I was surprised by the speed of the woman as she rushed me with a sturdy hug, a tactic she then repeated on her daughter.

“Are you Filipino?” she asked, placing a motherly hand on my shoulder.

“No, ma’am.”

“Ayo,” she said. “No problem. Sleep good, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for letting me stay—”

“Sorry about him, mom,” said Grace. She hit me on the back playfully and the two women burst into laughter in unison. “You’re always welcome, J.”

I smiled, said goodbye, and trailed Grace as she led me up a winding staircase to a small bedroom encapsulated by canary yellow walls laden with rooster prints. The room housed a twin bed and two lamps with cube-ish shades. The bedsheets matched the walls, realistic rooster designs corresponding with the overarching theme of the bedroom.

“Don’t ask,” said Grace. “Night, J. Sleep up.”

I hugged Grace and thanked her. “Night.”

It was still early, only six-thirty or so, so I plopped onto the bed and pulled out my iPhone, intent on watching YouTube videos to pass some time. I chuckled to myself as I admired the chicken print theme of the room.

Clicking my phone to life, I was surprised to find text messages from Maddie that read:

I sighed and put the iPhone down as my heart rate spiked into the mid eighties.

[ssa25]

Miss You - NaruHina

Rating: T

Inspired by Ed Sheeran's 'I don't need your money'. 

It was just a call. 

And now he was here. 

At a small rest stop, more than halfway to Konoha from Suna. His beanie pulled over his ears to keep out the cold, as he sipped on a cup of latte. He wasn't fond of caffeine in general, but he needed it right now. To wake all his senses after the short nap he took inside his car. And to prepare him for the awfully monotonous ride to his hometown.

It was almost the end of December, and he had put on his thick down jacket and fleece gloves to keep warm. A small backpack carrying a spare t-shirt and one pair of undergarments lay in the passenger seat. He had planned to clean his laundry that weekend. But then he made a sudden change of plan less than 12 hours back. After that last call with his girlfriend. His beautiful and adorable Hinata.

As soon as he felt recharged, he dropped the paper cup into the recycle bin and headed for his car. He still had 6 hours worth of distance to cover. 

When he turned on the radio, it was playing a depressing love song. It made him frown and he switched the station abruptly. 

--

"F*ck!!" 

When he felt all eyes on him, inside the crowded elevator, he realised he had said it out loud. He just muttered a half hearted apology, and continued looking at his phone.

18 missed calls, 2 voicemails and 1 message. 

He opened the message first. It was from Hinata. 

'I have been trying to talk to you all week. I know you're busy. But I wish you would atleast call me back. Even if for just a little bit.' 

He quickly opened the call log to see that Hinata had tried to call him 16 times in the past 8 or so hours. And left him a voicemail.

As soon as he reached his floor, he quickly dashed out to get some signal on his phone and check her voice message first. 

'Naruto, it's me… Hinata… Umm… Call me when you get this message.. Bye.'

She sounded a little off. After being in a relationship for almost an year, he knew her well enough.

It had been three months since he had to temporarily move base to Suna. His former tennis coach had recommended him to the famous multiple Grand slam winner of the yesteryears, by the name of Hatake Kakashi, who cherry picked his pupils and lived in the bustling city of Suna. And now he was training his ass off to make his debut at the first pro-tournament of next year. 

He was well on his way to achieve his goals, but his personal life seemed to involuntarily suffer. 

It was already dark outside, he looked at the time. Hinata was probably already asleep, she wasn't much of a night owl. Especially considering how early she woke up in the mornings. But he had to try. 

So he quickly got to his car, and turned on the heating, before dialing her number. 

She picked up on the fourth ring. 

"Naruto?", her voice sounded a little nasally and tired. Did she cry? 

"Hey Hinata… Uh, were you sleeping?" 

"Not really.", he knew she probably said it to not make him feel guilty about waking her up. "How are you?" 

He pushed his head back into the seat and felt like a prick for missing her calls. Anyone else would be shouting and screaming at him right now, but no, not her. That sweet girlfriend of his was still worried about him. 

"I'm fine Hinata. I just… I'm so so sorry for not talking to you these past few days. My schedule's been crazy. That lunatic Kakashi is having me run from home to the gym to the court without a break." 

"Hmm…. I.. I guess you are too busy.." 

She sounded a little melancholic and he had to ask. 

"Baby, are you alright?... What's the matter?" 

There line was silent for a few seconds, before he heard her sniff. 

"I just… I just missed you." 

"I know babe. I miss you too. So much, I can't even begin to tell you. But we agreed to do this, right? You pushed me to take up this opportunity and told me that we can weather the long distance.", he reminded her gently.

"I know… But…", she had started weeping softly. "Sometimes, its just a little hard. Sometimes, when my day goes a little wrong, I just miss your presence." 

"What happened? What went wrong?", now he was worried. 

"Nothing serious… There was a surprise assessment today and I just didn't do very well on it…. Then, at the canteen, I saw Shikamaru and Sai with Temari and Ino… They were inviting me to go to a karaoke place with them… But I just didn't want to… Last time, I hung out with them, I just felt so awkward and silly by myself…. And then, on my way back home today, Hidan was-"

Naruto was livid hearing the jerk's name. "What? What did that asshole do?" 

"........ Just his usual lewd comments. ", she replied hesitantly. 

He sighed heavily and brushed his hand through his hair. "I told you to get someone to walk back home with you. Why didn't you listen? Shall I call Kiba and ask him-" 

"No.", she said firmly. "Kiba already has his hands full with Tamaki and helping out his parents' at the store. And anyway, I had the situation under control. My pepper spray is always in my bag." 

"Hinata… Pepper spray is not enough. If Kiba is busy, maybe Shino could do it." 

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'm being unreasonable?", he was not having it. Hidan was a nuisance even when he was around in Konoha. But now, without him there, he had every reason to be worried. "Is it unreasonable for me to worry about my girlfriend?"

"No, but asking other people to fill in for your absence is also not right."

Okay, she probably didn't say it to make him feel bad. But he still did. 

"My absence was a mutual decision Hinata… Why are you making it seem as if I'm the bad guy?" 

She gasped at his insinuation. "I-.. I never said you were the bad guy. I just said that I missed you. Isn't that normal for me to feel, when we haven't spoken in almost a week??" 

"I know that we haven't… But atleast I text you as often as I can… You have to understand that I'm almost half dead at the end of each day… And by the time I make it back home, I know you would be sleeping… And anyway, I am doing all of this for us Hinata… For both of us…. I need to be financially secure before I can ask you to marry me…"

"You know I don't care about money." 

"You don't. But your father does. And he is not wrong. It never hurts to live comfortably. I just need your support for the next few months, and then we will be together, I promise."

"Ofcourse, I will always support your dreams.", she replied solemnly. "I should sleep now. Take care Naruto."

And the line went dead. 

--

He wanted to hit his head somewhere whenever he recollected her let down voice. He knew she supported his passion for tennis and his goal of becoming a Grand slam champion. But the distance was just too hard for both of them. Her father was too strict and did not allow her to travel further than a 10 mile radius from home by herself. And he wasn't exactly swimming in cash to take frequent trips to Konoha. His godfather Jiraiya, who had adopted him after his parents' early demise, only made enough to get by, as an erotic novelist. 

It wasn't the best case scenario for them, but he knew they had to make it work. He could not lose her, even the thought of it was paralysing. She was an angel, a literal angel, who blessed him with her affections. When he told her apologetically, a month back, that he might not be able to make it to Konoha for Christmas or her birthday or the new year, she did not get angry or sulky. Especially, since it would be her first birthday since they got together. Instead, she forgave him and later, agreed to his lewd request for phone sex. And he was beyond grateful for that. 

He could see the sun rising on the horizon of  the green winding hills as he drove. He had to make it to her before she went out that day. It was her birthday. He had to beg his coach to let him off for that weekend. And he was going to make it up to her. 

When he finally turned the corner to her father's more than modest four bedroom house, it was just past 7 am. He parked his car outside and got off while dialing Hinata from his phone. It took her a while to pick up. 

"Hello?... Naruto?"

She had definitely slept in for longer than usual.

"Hey sleepyhead… Happy birthday!" 

She hummed lazily, and he could imagine her smiling. "Thank you Naruto."

He shivered at the way she said his name, so soft yet sensual, in her sleepy tired voice. Soon, soon enough, he will have her in his arms. 

"I love you babe." 

"I love you too…. Naruto, I'm sorry I was being whiny yesterday…" 

"Don't say that Hinata… I'm sorry for missing your calls… And for being a jackass… I'm really really sorry." 

She laughed and replied. "Apology accepted… Oh, it's 7.20… How are you not at the gym?" 

"Hey Hina…", he decided to break the surprise to her. 

"Hmm?" 

"There should be something for you at your door. Can you get to the window and check on it?"

He kept his eyes fixed on the large glass window to the left. 

"For me?", she asked. "Naruto, you shouldn't have… You know-" 

She came in view, and gasped in surprise upon seeing him leaning casually on his car and smiling up at her. Hands over her mouth and tears in her eyes, she dropped the phone and sprinted down. 

Seconds later, the front door opened, and she ran and leapt up into his open arms, her legs crisscrossing behind his back. Their lips and tongues met in feverish rush, that conveyed their longing without the need for any words. His hands tightened around her waist to stick her chest close to his and just feel her curves through her satiny pajamas. She moaned in response and continued to accept his hungry onslaught while grazing her fingers through his overgrown hair above the neck.

He desperately wished to feel more of her. So, without further thoughts, his right hand moved down to cup and squeeze her fleshy ass. 

"Ahem!!"

They both broke off their very public display of affection to turn to the grim figure at the door. Hiashi Hyuuga glared daggers at Naruto, as Hinata slipped down his body to gain her footing on the pavement. She even noticed some of the morning joggers rooted in their place nearby with their mouth agape, and the ever nosy neighbour Mrs. Terumi peeping through her window. Feelings of mortification at their uninhibited show, sank in making her turned-on blush become even more intense. 

"I see you are finally back. Did you give up your sport?", Hiashi bit the passive-aggresive comment at him. 

"Never Sir.", Naruto gave him a triumphant smile while he wound his arm around Hinata's waist pulling her at his side. "Just here for the weekend. For Hinata's birthday." 

He saw from his side of his eyes, Hinata looking up at him with a mixture of awe and adoration. Then she turned to his car and asked him worriedly. 

"Did you drive all the way Naruto?"

"Yep. For you baby.", he said winking at her. 

"Get inside both of you.", Hiashi ordered them. "People have already got an eyeful. No need to give them an earful."

Naruto grinned shamelessly at the old man, before heeding his advice and following his girlfriend inside. He had not made any particular plans, but he was sure they would have a wonderful reunion and birthday celebration. Maybe, after breakfast, over at his godfather's apartment. Who was conveniently out of town for the whole week. He looked down at their clasped hands and then at the gorgeous long hair swishing just above the equally gorgeous backside of his girlfriend, and sighed contently. It felt good to be back home. 

-----x-----

[iohourtime]

Hey!Say!JUMP 2019-2020 Calendar 100 Q&A: Yamada Ryosuke

I already posted these on twitter, but posting them here so they are all in one place.  Still haven’t proofread the document. Hopefully there aren’t too many errors.

Recent hobby? - To steep myself in games. I've been playing RPG games.

Top 3 favorite foods? - 1: eggplant, 2: yakiniku (grilled meat), 3: yakitori (grilled chicken). For eggplants, my no. 1 favorite is fried eggplant. I make it myself sometimes.

Top 3 favorite animals? - 1: dog, 2: sloth, 3: monkey. There are 2 dogs at my parents’ place. Sloths I've liked for a while. Although I'd like to keep one, it's impossible to have a tropical animal (lol). Maybe I like these types of “relaxed” animals.

Shower guy? Bath guy? - Shower.

Source of energy? - Food!

Describe a moment when your excitement level is high? - During live concerts, the moment when I see the audience from the stage. “It's so great that I'm working in this job” will pop into my head, it's the happiest moment in my life.

Describe a moment when your excitement level is low? - When I'm playing games at home. I'm just quietly playing, and I don't want anyone to see how I look at that time.

What do people say [to / about you] that will make you happy? - “Gakkoi”

Favorite color? - White. I have a lot of white t shirts.

Where do you want to go? - Salar de Uyuni (Salt Flats) in Bolivia.

Frequent dreams? - Dream of teeth being pulled out.

Best number of hours of sleep? - About 7 hours.

Dog guy? Cat guy? - Dogs.

Do you believe in ghosts? - I believe in them. But I do not like them.

Do you believe in fortune telling? - Basically no.

Do you think there are aliens? - There aren't any, right? But I don't think I want to meet them. Because I don't know what they'll do to me, it's scary (lol).

What do you like most about your looks? - Nose. Although I used to have a complex about it, everyone kept telling me “you have a great nose”, so I started thinking “it's a great nose!” and start liking it.

What do you like most about your qualities? - Stubbornness. I think being able to advocate for my beliefs without bending my will is quite useful in this job.

What is one thing you can change about your appearance? - My height. I want an extra 10 cm.

What’s one personality trait you’d like to fix? - My sharp tongue (lol).

What other job would you pick? Nursery school teacher. I love kids.

What is the last meal you want to eat in your life? - My mother’s meat & potato stew. The potatoes are soft and flaky and so delicious.

What kind of attitude do you bring to work? - I’ll be my natural self.

What do you think fans “got it all wrong!”? - How do the fans think of me? Since I don’t know, I can’t answer!

What are the types of people you admire? - Someone who has personal magnetism and is able to have an unyielding heart in whatever situation.

The type of girl you like? - Family minded. It’ll be nice if she can cook and also likes kids.

When you are in a relationship, do you want to spoil her? Or do you want to be spoiled? - I do not want to be spoiled. If we are talking about [my girlfriend] wanting me to spoil her, I don’t like acting all lovey-dovey in front of everybody.  [So I guess the implication is that he’ll spoil his girlfriend, but only in private.]

Soba guy? Udon guy? - Soba. I don’t eat a lot of udon.

Favourite drink? - Cola.

Will you believe in love at first sight? - Yes!

Which piece of furniture in your room are you fond of? - Sofa. It’s custom made, so I fussed about the size, material, firmness, and width quite a bit.

What are you like in a relaxed state? - At home lying on the sofa.

Within Johnny’s, who are you friends with outside of the members? - Ninomiya-kun and Yamashita-kun. I always go bother Ninomiya-kun at his home.  As for Yamashita-kun, I have gone to Disneyland with him and another guy.

What is your dream / vision for the group’s future? - Thanks to everyone’s support up to now, Hey!Say!JUMP is able to continue on as a group. After this, I want to see each member holding their own solo concert.

What’s your personal dream / vision? - I want to always work steadily as an actor.

What motto do you live by? - “Even if there is just 1% chance, I will never give up.”

What is your schedule like for when you have a day off? - Basically I stay at home, then when night falls, I tend to go out to eat.  At home, I’ll play games then sleep (lol).

When you don’t feel like you’re in good spirits, what do you do to encourage yourself? - Take a stroll.

With which member will you go to the themed park together? - Actually, I hate themed parks. I am really bad with rollercoasters, so knowing that I can’t go on any rides, I don’t really want to go with anybody (lol).

With which member will you go to the public bath house together? - Yuya and Inoo-chan. I had gone with other members before, but I have never gone with those two. It should be pretty leisurely to spend time with them.

With which member will you go to karaoke? - Chinen. We go together all the time.

With which member will you go to hanami (flower viewing)? - I am allergic to pollen and there are lots of bugs, so I don’t go to hanami.

With which member will you go to the pool?  - I won’t go to the pool. I cannot swim.

With which member do you want to spend Halloween? - Dai-chan. He’ll entertain me.

With which member do you want to go to have nabe (hot pot cuisine)? - Since we’ll eat delicious rice, Inoo-chan. He’ll probably say “yummy, yummy” when he eat, you know.

What place do you feel most relieved / relaxed? - My parents’ place.

What do you do to keep yourself healthy? - I will drink supplements.

Are you someone who arrange your bills in one direction? Or not? - I will arrange the bills with the face at the bottom.

What’s the best trip you had so far? - I was able to go to Paris and Los Angeles for work. I thought that was such a treat (lol). I was able to take in the nature in Los Angeles, and in Paris, I saw the buildings on the streets and had fun eating and getting on stage.

Top 3 favourite movies? - 1: “The Great Gatsby”, 2: “About Time”, 3: “(Leon) The Professional”.

Do you have a favourite book? - Not really. While I read manga, I don’t read a lot of books.

How about [your favourite] home cooked dish (mom’s cooking)? - Meat and potato stew.

When you wake up, what’s the first thing you do? - First I turn on the vacuum, then I go brush my teeth. [Does he have a robot vacuum?]

At night, what do you do before going to bed? - Brush my teeth (lol). I brush my teeth then get in bed, I’ll fiddle with my phone for a bit before going to bed.

What do you wear when you go to sleep? - Basically, I wear a pair of underwear! I definitely don’t wear a t-shirt.  Even in winter, I do not wear pants. Instead, I wear a fluffy parka like thing. [So like a fleece sleep dress? :) ]

What do you treasure? - The trophies I get due to my acting jobs. They are displayed at my parents’ place.

How do you de-stress? - I go drinking with my friends.

Favourite scent? - Lemongrass.  When I see it on my travels, I’ll definitely buy some.

What is the thing you most want right now? - Items in the game that lets me teleport! I don’t really have any material needs.

What must you have in your bag? - Toothbrush and cologne.

If you can only eat 1 thing for an entire month, what will it be? - Chicken breast strip. Although it is mild tasting, it is not harmful to the body.

Favourite number? - 4. That is my lucky number.

In terms of meat, what is your favourite? - Beef. But I like grilled meat more than steak.

When you enter into a relationship with your lover, what special favours will you do for her? - I’ll clean her room! For girls who are not good at housecleaning, this is a pretty good favour.

What is the 1 thing you’ll bring to a deserted island? - Lighter.

Tell us 1 secret! - Right now, I’m at the heaviest weight in my life. It’s not muscle but fat… (lol). [Em - we saw the calendar. Didn’t you have a 6 pack?]

If you have a chance for a redo in life, what age will you go back to? - 10 years old. The year I joined Johnny’s & Associates. That said, I don’t want a redo.

If you have to give a title to [your life story], what will it be? - “There are peaks and valleys”.

What will you do if you have to spend 1 million yen in 1 day? - I will take all the staff who is working on my project out for dinner.

What you will say to your 100 year old self! - “You don’t have to try so hard already!” (lol).

What will you do if the world will end in 3 days? - Even though it’s impossible, I want to have 1 live concert.

What is a small problem that’s bugging you right now? - I can’t beat the boss in the game. I tried more than 15 times but I couldn’t do it at all.

If you can use magic? - I’ll go see the world heritage sites. I’ll immediately fly to the ones that people said will be destroyed imminently.

If 100 points is the perfect score, how many points are you? - Around 50 points. When I need to get to 100%, I will go at it with all my might, but when I’m unwinding, I will use close to 0% of energy to unwind.

What are you addicted to? - Cleaning. Although I love cleanliness, when people come over for dinner and spilled stuff, I also don’t care. That’s because I love to put away the mess. However, I hate having dirty stuff lying around, so when everyone’s relaxing, I’ll start vacuuming. Perhaps I’m an annoying host (lol).

Do you have a collection of things? - No.

In 2019, what wish do you want to come true? - I want to have a live tour. I think I definitely want to have 1 tour each year. Privately, I want to go overseas for vacation.

What do you think you'll be like in 10 years? - I think I'll have a beard. I’ll probably appear in the “mature male roles” in dramas, won’t I? I can’t keep going on as the present “Yamada Ryosuke” without changing, you know.

What is Hey!Say!JUMP missing (not have enough of) right now? - Composure.

What’s your go to song at karaoke? - JUJU-san’s “Kiseki wo Nozomu Nara…” (If you want a miracle…”

A memory of karaoke-ing with a member? - There was a time when I went to karaoke with Chinen or someone almost every day and we will compete for the most points. I was very happy when I got my highest point of 96.8.

What is your role in the group? - No matter when, I am usually the first one to speak.  Since the members also wait for me to speak, and the staff-san will ask me questions first, I ended up with this role.

What advice will you give to yourself at debut? - “Your face is going to change, you know! It’ll become a little thinner.”

What is the most memorable thing during the “Heisei” era? - Being part of a group called Hey!Say!JUMP.

What moment did you feel that you have become an adult? - When I stopped being angry [easily].

Tell me Chinen’s weakness! - Knit.

Tell me Nakajima’s weakness! - Dirty things. (Literal meaning.)

Tell me Arioka’s weakness! - Belly button. He hates it when people touch it.

Tell me Takaki’s weakness! - He can’t handle high calorie foods.

Tell me Inoo’s weakness! - Exercise.

Tell me Yaotome’s weakness! - He can’t remember anything.

Tell me Yabu’s weakness! - Tomato.

Tell me Chinen’s allure! - There are so many. He’s a genius. He face the world as a guy who can do do anything and has a very good understanding of himself, which is very good.

Tell me Nakajima’s allure! - He can do anything. He is high-spec (top notch), but he is also hardworking.

Tell me Arioka’s allure! - He’s a positive, bright person. You’ll feel happy just being together with him.

Tell me Takaki’s allure! - Very gentle. Comparing to before, he has a great love for JUMP, he kept talking about “JUMP, JUMP” wherever he goes.

Tell me Inoo’s allure! - Talk power. He honed those skills through “Mezamashi TV”. It feels very comforting to go on location shoots with him in the variety programs.   

Tell me Yaotome’s allure! - His “ojisan-like” personality. He can take a nap wherever he goes. There are moments when that side of him will shine spectacularly as an item (special feature?) of JUMP, so in that sense, he is very reliable.

Tell me Yabu’s allure! - Although he is the oldest, he doesn’t act like “I need to get a hold of myself” a lot. Because of that, the people who are younger than him can feel at ease.  Because we have Yabu-chan, we are able to things confidently, he is truly a reliable bigger brother.

Send a message to Okamoto Keito! - Keito, when are you coming back? How is winter in New York? It’s probably very cold, right? I want to tell you about the live tour, and I also want to hear about your New York life!

[pentakillmaven]

The Nose Knows, Chapter 4 (NaNoWriMo 2018)

Short chapter this time, but I really had fun writing this one! It’s a group text chat chapter!

Chapter Rating: T

Chapter Warnings: Unresolved mutual pining

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 4

Ladybug and Chat Noir met up a little after sunset at the top of the Arc de Triomphe. They didn't like to use the same meeting spot every time they patrolled, just in case a villain was tracking them, but the structure was a common starting point for their circuitous routes around the city. Ladybug bit her lip nervously as she thrust a wrapped box into Chat Noir's hand. "This is for you, Chaton."

"My Lady?" Chat cocked his head to the side as he furrowed his brow a little, but he accepted the box easily enough. "What's all this about?"

"Just open it!"

Nodding rather reluctantly, Chat tugged on the ribbon wrapped around the box, setting it aside for the moment while he tore through the paper. Lifting the lid, his eyes widened in surprise as he saw what was inside. "What in the…" He reached into the box, pulling out a black beanie hat with green paw prints stitched around the brim and faux leather cat ears poking out of the top. Alongside the hat was a fleece scarf with more of the paw print accents and a pair of faux-fur-edged gloves. "Bugaboo, these are amazing! Thank you!"

"Actually, Marinette asked me to bring this present to you. She said it was a thank you gift for saving her. Since it's nearly winter, she thought you might be able to use them if you get cold during patrol."

"Marinette made these? I knew she was a talented designer, but, wow. These are incredible."

Ladybug grinned. "I know, right? I'll tell her you like them!"

Chat shook his head quickly. "No, no, something like this, I need to tell her myself. Do you mind if I skip patrol tonight?" Chat wrapped the scarf around his neck and tugged the hat on over his head before he quickly started to pick up the wrapping paper, stuffing it inside the box alongside the gloves.

Ladybug's eyes widened in minor panic, though Chat was too busy to notice. "She's really busy right now! She's got some big tests coming up; it's probably better not to disturb her while she's studying. You can tell her another night."

Chat looked a bit disappointed, but nodded. "That makes sense. Tell you what--I'll put together something really nice to thank her for the gift, and give it to her when I get back."

"Get back from where?" It was Ladybug’s turn to look confused by Chat's sudden change of topic.

Chat winced a bit, scratching at the back of his head. "Y-yeah… My civilian identity has something going on that I have to leave town for a few days. I should be back by the beginning of next week, though. Do you think you can get Réna Rouge or Carapace to cover for me while I'm gone?"

"Wait, you're leaving town? As in leaving Paris?" At Chat's nod, Ladybug’s face tightened in concern. "Do you think it's smart to leave right after Hawk Moth just sent out the first Akuma we've seen in nearly a month? What if he's about to start on a rash of attacks? Réna and Carapace are great, but I need my partner."

"I'm sorry, Bugaboo, but I don't have any control over the situation. Like I said, it's a thing for my civilian identity."

Ladybug sighed in resignation, nodding slightly. "I know how that feels. All right. Just keep your Miraculous safe while you're gone, okay?"

"Of course. I won't let it out of my sight."

"Good. Now, shall we begin?"

"Of course, My Lady. Lead the way!"

Marinette dropped into her bedroom through the skylight, having already released her superhero transformation from Ladybug. She shivered, quickly pulling the skylight window shut to block the late autumn chill. Paris hadn't seen its first snow of the season just yet, but it definitely felt cold enough to do so, especially this late at night.

Marinette pulled her cell phone out of her pocket, noticing multiple notifications that she'd missed during her time as Ladybug. Some of them were the usual late-evening push notifications from her various games and apps; she also had a few new emails, mostly junk or advertising. The one notification that did catch her eye was from the group chat that she, Alya, Nino, and Adrien all had going on. It was mostly used for school-related discussions, but occasionally someone sent a funny meme or a video link to share to the rest of the group. Opening the messaging app, she scrolled back up to where the new messages began so she wouldn't miss anything.

[8:57 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Hey guys! Today was a lot of fun! Thanks for having us over, Marinette.

[8:58 PM] DJLahiffe: yeah same

[8:58 PM] AdrienAgreatest: I wanted to let you guys know that I won't be at school tomorrow. Actually, I won't be here the rest of the week. Father has some business to attend to in Milan, and he's taking me with him.

[8:59 PM] TheLadyblogger: what the hell Adrien??? doesnt your dad know that the bac practice tests are, like, next week??? how can he pull you out of school right now???

[9:02 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Trust me, Alya, I'm not happy about it either. I just found out earlier tonight, when I got home from Marinette's house. We aren't even leaving until tomorrow, but he made me come home early so that I could "get some good rest, because we have a busy schedule the next several days." Nathalie isn't saying much about it, but she did mention something about a potential merger with some Italian leather working company. I guess they make things like wallets, shoes, and belts? So the company would be able to offer more in the way of accessories that we don't really have right now.

[9:06 PM] DJLahiffe: wow. that sounds p cool but ur dad is still rude af tho

[9:08 PM] TheLadyblogger: i'm with nino on this one. @MariDC what do you think about this? are you as outraged as we are?

Glancing at the time, Marinette breathed a sigh of relief when she realized it was only 9:15. She quickly typed out a response.

[9:15 PM] MariDC: Sorry, just got back up to my room. Was helping Maman with dishes. I'm sorry to hear you're going to be missing class, Adrien! But if this is something your father wants you to do, I think it's important that you take it in stride. Look on the bright side! At least you don't have to sit through stuffy classes the rest of the week. Your teachers are always willing to work with you when you have to miss class. As long as you're back in time for the Bac practice tests next week, everything should be fine. You will be back by then, right?

[9:18 PM] AdrienAgreatest: According to Father, we will be flying back Sunday, so unless something unexpected happens, I should be back in time for the practice tests. Maybe we can do a video call study group one night, depending on how busy I am.

[9:19 PM] MariDC: That sounds great! Just let us know when you're free in the evenings.

[9:19 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Definitely. I'll keep you guys posted on what's going on. If previous experience is anything to go by, the next few days are going to pretty much be Father talking with a bunch of old people while I sit and do nothing. Either that or I'm going to be doing non-stop photo shoots while Father talks with the board of directors at the other company. This is the first time that I'm going to be out of the country, though, so that's exciting at least. I've never been to Italy before.

[9:22 PM] DJLahiffe: dude let me dm you some new remixes ive been working on, u can listen to them on the plane

[9:23 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Yes please! Anyway, I just wanted to let you guys know so you weren't worried about me tomorrow. Have a good night everyone!

[9:25 PM] TheLadyblogger: night adrien!

[9:25 PM] DJLahiffe: nite bro

[9:25 PM] MariDC: Good night, Adrien! Sleep well and safe travels!

[9:26 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Thanks :)

Setting her phone aside, Marinette sighed, the sound rather forlorn. She crawled out of bed to get into her pajamas, grabbing her History textbook for some more reading before she fell asleep.

However, despite her best efforts, her mind was buzzing with activity; she couldn't get settled enough to read the textbook and she wasn't tired enough to sleep yet. Her mind kept replaying the look on Chat Noir's face as he opened the gift she'd given him. It seemed so familiar, but she couldn't think of why. Not to mention the strange coincidence that both Chat and Adrien were going to be out of town at the same time. "Tikki?"

The Kwami poked her head out of her little dollhouse on the shelf beside Marinette's bed, where she'd settled once they'd gotten inside. "What is it, Marinette?"

"Chat Noir is going to be out of town for a few days starting tomorrow. And Adrien just messaged Alya and Nino and me saying he was going to Milan for the rest of the week."

"Oh… that's an interesting coincidence." Tikki looked up at Marinette intently, as if reading the girl's expression.

"Is it though? I know it sounds crazy, but… what if…" Marinette trailed off. No, that was too crazy for her to even imagine.

"What are you thinking, Marinette?"

"What if… Chat Noir's civilian identity… what if he works for Gabriel Agreste? What if he's going with Adrien and his dad to Milan, and that's why he's going to be out of town?"

Tikki's eyes widened at Marinette's suggestion. "That's… certainly a possibility, I suppose."

"I know we aren't supposed to reveal ourselves to each other without the masks, but if I was on the right track to figuring out his identity, you'd tell me, right Tikki?"

"Of course I would, Marinette. But I'm not sure if you're on the right track or not."

"Oh. Okay." Sighing, Marinette leaned back in bed, staring up at the ceiling as she continued to ponder the curious coincidence. This was getting her nowhere--she needed to get back to studying! With a huff, she picked up her textbook again, gluing her eyes to the page.

However, after trying and failing to read the same paragraph four times, Marinette set the textbook aside and picked her phone back up. Her fingers shook as she typed a private message to Adrien, and she had to reread the message twice to make sure she didn't have any typos before she sent it.

[9:45 PM] MariDC: Adrien? I have a question.

[9:46 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Hey again Marinette! What's up?

[9:47 PM] MariDC: Do you know Chat Noir?

Marinette held her breath as a message appeared in the corner of her screen: AdrienAgreatest is typing…

Ten seconds turned into thirty seconds, turned into a minute, and Marinette had to gasp for air before she passed out. Finally, after the longest two minutes of her entire life, Adrien's reply popped up on her phone.

[9:49 PM] AdrienAgreatest: I'm not sure why you're asking, but yes, I've at least met Chat Noir before. I don't know who he is behind the mask, though. Or, at least, I don't know if I know him. Does that make sense?

[9:50 PM] MariDC: Yes! That makes perfect sense. I have a confession to make: When I said I was at home the whole time the villain was attacking the school on Monday, I was lying. I actually got hurt in the bathroom when the villain first appeared, and Chat Noir saved me. I only lied to keep Alya and Nino from freaking out and worrying about me. Are you mad?

[9:53 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Why would I be mad at you? It's not like you intentionally put yourself in harm's way, right? I'm just glad you're alright. You're one of my closest friends and I would be devastated if something happened to you. I care about you a lot, Marinette.

Marinette's eyes widened almost comically as she read and reread Adrien's messages. She vaguely heard a loud, high-pitched squeal coming from somewhere in the room. It took her a minute to realize it was coming from herself.

[9:56 PM] MariDC: I care about you a lot too Adrien! I mean, you're one of my closest friends too! I love

Shaking her head wildly, Marinette deleted the text and started again.

[9:57 PM] MariDC: You're really important to me and I hope I didn't disappoint you or make you mad.

[9:58 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Don't worry about it, Marinette. You didn't do anything of the sort. Anyway, I should be getting to bed. It's late and I have to be up at 5 for us to make our plane.

[10:00 PM] MariDC: Oh lord! Yes, you do need to be getting to sleep! Can't have Mr. Model with saggy under eye bags, now can we? ;) Sleep well, Adrien. Let us know when your plane lands, all right?

[10:03 PM] AdrienAgreatest: Will do. Good night, Marinette. Sweet dreams :) (edited)

Marinette blinked, peering down at her phone in confusion. She'd glanced away for a moment, but she could have sworn that instead of her name, Adrien had initially written "Princess."

Did Adrien think of Marinette using pet names? Did he consider her his princess?

"Oh my god!" Marinette rolled over and stuffed her face into her pillow to muffle her squeal.

[lizzybeth1986]

Music Ask - Queen Edition

@callmetippytumbles tagged me on this, stating that she was sure there would be a Queen song for every question on this ask. Well Ima prove her right! 😂

So since they’re all going to be Queen (unless otherwise specified), I’m going to replace band name with album name instead.

1: A song you like with a color in the title:

🎶 White Man🎶 from A Day At The Races

“What is left of your dream?

Just the words on your stone

A man who learned how to teach

Then forgot how to learn"

Part of me loves this song, but part of me is also is uneasy about it. The song is supposed to be from the PoV of an unspecified Native American tribe, speaking of how colonization has destroyed everything they have stood and lived for - but it’s written by a British white man, Brian May - and we have no idea whether he consulted a Native American for this or not. If he hadn’t, or hadn’t gotten consent, it would be him speaking in the voice of the oppressed while still holding the privilege of being White…and that’s a little disturbing. I love the song, and Brian May is my favourite Queen member, but I can’t ignore that this song has problems.

2: A song you like with a number in the title

🎶'39🎶 from A Night At The Opera

For the earth is old and grey, little darling we’ll away

But my love this cannot be

For so many years have gone though I’m older but a year

Your mother’s eyes from your eyes cry to me.

Besides being an ace guitarist, Brian May is also an Astrophysicist with a Doctorate!! xD And this song really shows us his background in that area: it’s fashioned in the song tradition of a sea shanty, but is about outer space and time relativity. I called this "the plot of Interstellar, 39 years before Interstellar”.

3: A song that reminds you of summertime:

🎶Seaside Rendezvous🎶 from A Night At The Opera

One of Queen’s few vaudeville tracks xD

4: A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about:

Thankfully I got into Queen loooong after I broke up with my ex. BUT “More than Words” by Extreme and Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing” hit very particular sore spots coz he dedicated them to me AFTER dedicating them to a girl he always had a thing for (long story gah).

5: A song that needs to be played LOUD:

🎶March of the Black Queen🎶 from Queen II

6: A song that makes want to dance:

🎶Don’t Stop Me Now🎶 from The Game

This one was the very first Queen song I actually listened to, and every time I hear it I wind up doing Hana’s happy dance in my seat 😂

7: A song to drive to:

HAHA there are two! One by Roger Taylor and the other from Brian’s first solo album:

🎶I’m In Love With My Car🎶 from A Night At The Opera

This is a song by Roger Taylor, and it’s not really his best (he’s capable of far superior tracks: Tenement Funster, Radio Gaga, These Are The Days of Our Lives, Small), but it garnered a lot of money and royalties by virtue of being the B-Side of Bohemian Rhapsody.

🎶Driven by You🎶 from Back to the Light

This song ended up being used as a theme for commercials for Ford cars in the early nineties, as I recall.

8: A song about drugs or alcohol:

Drugs: 🎶Don’t Stop Me Now🎶 from The Game

I mean, just listen to some of the lyrics! “Floating around in ecstasy”? “Tiger leaping through the sky defying the laws of gravity”? “Travelling at the speed of light”? I personally think the songs about a whole lot more, but you can’t deny the narrator sounds very trippy lol.

Alcohol: 🎶Killer Queen🎶 from Sheer Heart Attack

She keeps Moet et Chandon in a pretty cabinet

Let them eat cake, she says, just like Marie Antoinette…

Not about alcohol really, but it does mention it.

9: A song that makes you happy:

🎶You’re My Best Friend🎶 from A Night At The Opera

So John Deacon wrote this lovely sweet song for his wife, and it’s got the most adorable lyrics ever.

Ooh I’ve been wandering round

But I still come back to you

In rain or shine

You’ve stood by me girl

I’m happy at home

You’re my best friend

10: A song that makes you sad:

🎶Mother Love🎶 from Made in Heaven.

This is spoken of as being the last song Freddie ever recorded before he died, and his vocals are OFF-THE-ROOF powerful here. Two verses are sung by Freddie, and the last is sung by Brian May, who co-wrote the song (because Freddie felt too worn and weak and tired to continue recording, and told Brian he would return and do the rest. He never did). To hear Brian complete the song because Freddie has gone…is quite heartbreaking, actually. I’d definitely recommend everyone listen to this gem.

11: A song that you never get tired of:

🎶Teo Torriatte🎶 from A Day at the Races.

What I love about Queen is how appreciative they are of their overseas fans, esp those who loved them at the very start of their career. Way before Bohemian Rhapsody placed Queen on the map, they had a very devoted fanbase in Japan, and I believe this song was written specially for them. It also appeals to me as a super mushy romantic xD

12: A song from your preteen years:

EVERYTHING PRECEEDS MY PRETEEN YEARS. Okay but definitely this one we heard a lot:

🎶We are the Champions🎶 from News of the World

13: One of your favorite 80’s songs:

🎶Who Wants To Live Forever🎶 from A Kind of Magic

Another Brian May gem. I tend to associate this a lot with my Liam MC, Esther - esp for most of Book 2. It’s a beautiful track and was used as part of the Highlander movie OST.

14: A song that you would love played at your wedding:

We never had wedding dances at our weddings, and Queen is usually not wedding material haha but here’s some songs that would go well!

🎶You’re My Best Friend🎶 from A Night At The Opera

🎶Teo Torriatte🎶 from A Day At The Races

🎶Bijou🎶 from Innuendo

Bijou is very interesting because it was structured as an “inside-out” version of the usual song - there would be instrumental (guitar, in this case) where lyrics would be and lyrics where you would typically find a guitar solo. Haunting.

15: A song that is a cover by another artist:

🎶Goin’ Back🎶 by Larry Lurex

This was the first ever recording we have of Freddie Mercury, under the name of Larry Lurex. The original was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin. A sampling of it is used at the very end of Mother Love, as a way of rewinding to the beginning…a symbolic goodbye to Freddie by going back to the first words that sparked his career.

Damn. I’m emotional now. 😭😭

16: One of your favorite classic songs:

Most people would go for 🎶Bohemian Rhapsody🎶 - and for good reason - but I think 🎶Prophet’s Song🎶 from the same album is equally deserving of this. It’s beautiful, has a lot of echoes that make it surreal and ethereal to me, and very power-packed vocals and lyrics.

17: A song that you’d sing a duet to on karaoke:

🎶Love of My Life🎶 from A Night At The Opera.

The fun thing about any Queen concert is that the audience has always been as much participant as spectator. LoML is one of the few ballads that the band used to interact with the audience, who were always ready to sing along. Freddie started this tradition in his live concerts, and Brian carried it on when he and Roger went back to touring as Queen +. To this day, you will always find a Queen audience being as involved in this song as the people on stage. It’s beautiful to watch. No Queen concert is complete without the audience crooning this ballad.

18: A song from the year that you were born:

🎶A Kind of Magic🎶 from the album of the same name (released 1986)

19: A song that makes you think about life:

🎶A Winter’s Tale🎶 from Made in Heaven

This happens to be one of Freddie’s last written compositions, and it’s unbelievably beautiful and dreamy. He had very few months left to live when he wrote this gem of a song, and there’s so much joy and hope and tranquility in it, and the moment you listen you will inevitably feel a sense of peace washing over you. I can imagine sitting by a lake alone in Switzerland, looking out at the sky and the snow, just listening to the song and basking in all it has to offer.

🎶Miracle🎶 from The Miracle

This is also a very hope-filled song, composed by Freddie shortly after he was diagnosed and told he had very little time left. It’s a very idealistic view of the world, but yeah I really like this one too. Just not as much as I like A Winter’s Tale. 😂

20: A song that has many meanings to you:

🎶White Queen (As It Began)🎶 from Queen II

On one level it’s about a girl who cannot see and the boy who loves her. On another I feel like it can also be about the sadness of unrequited love in general, and of an almost-relationship.

21: A favorite song with a person’s name in the title:

🎶Delilah🎶 from Innuendo

This song was about Freddie’s cat. It’s fun xD

22: A song that moves you forward:

🎶Death On Two Legs🎶 from A Night At the Opera

I can be a spectacularly petty bitch sometimes, and this number can be so vicious it satisfies those vengeful, bitchy parts of me lol. A lot of the lines in this song are particularly cutting, and it should be because it was written for someone who was fleecing the band dry in their early days.

23: A song that you think everybody should listen to:

🎶Track 13/Untitled🎶 from Made in Heaven.

Most people might be put off by this track because it’s 22:33 whopping minutes long, and it’s an endless loop of sounds but OMG is it trippy. Mostly a lot of synthetic, loops, Freddie saying words, and this overall ethereal, otherworldly vibe. Most Queen fans interpret this piece as a depiction of Freddie’s journey to heaven, and call it “Ascension”. Kind of like a requiem, a fitting goodbye to Freddie. I can see why. I mean I can always lie down, close my eyes and immerse myself in the tranquility of this track. All 22.33 minutes of it. It’s a strange recommendation, but in my mind a fitting one.

24: A song by a band/group you wish were still together:

🎶The Show Must Go On🎶 from Innuendo.

Queen aren’t together because their frontman passed away, not entirely out of choice 😟 (okay and John Deacon didn’t want to be involved anymore later on). This was written and composed by Brian May, but Freddie really makes this song his own in the singing. The way he hits some of those notes - at that stage in his life - is spine tingling.

25: A song by an artist no longer living:

🎶Lily of the Valley🎶, written by Freddie Mercury from Sheer Heart Attack.

[sippin-on-red-wine]

Fluff Blurb

Can’t sleep so why the hell not. I have no idea how to write “fluff” but here’s what just came out of my head.

*

Ed had been feeling ‘off’ for maybe about a week now. He had never missed a performance due to illness, and he wasn’t about to start now. Luckily, you were traveling with him at the time and could keep an eye on him. Not that Stu or the other crew guys wouldn’t, but it was very Ed-like to not complain about not feeling well, or turn down a pint with the boys after a show when what he really needed was rest.

So he pushed through the promos, the meet & greets, the interviews, the travel. With you by his side. You fetched him glasses of orange juice and put honey & lemon in his tea. You were his scapegoat to go back to the hotel and rest during any downtime. The show was a live, televised holiday event and he did not want to miss it or give a second-rate performance.

Ed being Ed, knocked it the hell out of the park. His newest single was out and already adored by millions – but hearing it played with a nearly 100 piece symphony orchestra – it wowed even you, someone who had heard the song too many times to remember.

You were so proud of him, and the two of you made love later that evening after the performance. It was sweet, and slow, and gentle – just what you’d both needed.

The next day of traveling home was particularly brutal, and Ed’s sickness seemed to really kick in now that his subconscious knew that he had a month long break for the holidays.

You had returned to your flat, Ed insisting on carrying nearly all of your luggage as per usual. A coughing fit hit him as he rolled the suitcases in the front door, and you had sent him away to change into something comfortable and find some cough medicine.

You set the bags off to the side, you wouldn’t need anything from them right away. Ed came back out to the living room dressed in plaid fleece pajama pants and a hoodie, his arms wrapped around himself.

“Are you cold, bub?” You asked, the shiver on his skin almost visible from across the room.

He nodded, the thick frame of his eyeglasses standing out more than usual against his creamy complexion, all dotted with faint freckles.

He settled down on the sofa and you scurried over to cover him up with a couple of the throw blankets you kept out here in the old wooden trunk-chest.

You propped the couch accent pillows up under his head and tucked the blankets all around him. He seemed slightly more at ease, though it was alarming to see him this way – no longer the cackling child with his head thrown back in laughter, or the thoughtful boyfriend who tried to do everything for you when you were together – because he carried so much guilt for being away so much. He looked small, wrapped up there on the sofa.

“That better, babe?” You asked, rubbing his back.

“A little bit, thank you sweetheart…” his voice was all full of rasp (not the good kind).

You wracked your brain, trying to think of something you could do to make him feel better. He was already on DayQuil and cough medicine… he just needed a little rest and some TLC for his body to recuperate.

“Teddy, I’m going to run down over to J.D.’s and pick up a pint of soup for you, okay?” His ocean blue eyes peeked up at you, looking grateful.

“No, love, it’s freezing out–”

“Hush,” you said, brushing your thumb over his pale pink lips. “I’ll be right back.”

And so you had donned your parka, hat, scarf and mittens, and made your way back out to the sparkly snowstorm. Thankfully it was a short walk.

Short, yes – but the wind was whipping snow and ice around and your eyes burned and the tip of your nose was red from the cold, you were sure of it. But you had retrieved two pints of scratch-made chicken dumpling soup, plus a bag of biscuits to go with. A quick run-in to the corner store got you a bottle of 7-Up, the same drink your Grandma had always given you when you were little and had the flu. You would forever associate it with feeling better, and you hoped Ed would catch those placebo feelings as well.

You walk into the apartment, kicking your boots off on the tray by the door and locking it behind you. You set down your quest’s prizes on the kitchen counter and glance over at the sofa, where Ed is huddled up under blankets galore, asleep.

You shake out of your cold weather gear and shuck your jeans, leaving them in a pile on the kitchen floor. You’d been wearing one of Ed’s long sleeve thermal shirts all day and it would be fine to sleep in.

You sat on the edge of the couch, gently tracing the outline of his bicep through the layers of blankets. You hadn’t wanted to wake him, but you thought getting a little something in his stomach would be for the best.

He awoke with a start, jumping out of his skin a bit, just for a second, til he got a grasp on his surroundings. “Sorry, Teddy, I didn’t mean to startle you…. I’ve got soup, do you want some now?”

He pushed back the covers, freeing his arm, reaching out to touch your pink, wind-chilled nose.

“C’mere,” he whispered, not even intentionally - his voice was gone. “Stay with me.”

He turned onto his side, facing away, toward the back of the sofa. It was luckily an extra-deep couch, or else this may not have worked. But you sidled up on the cushion behind him, letting him be the little spoon, which he loved.

You wrapped an arm around his chest and he tucked it below his, holding it close to his heart.

“G’night Teddy,” you spoke quietly.

“Babe? Thanks for taking care 'f me. Don’t deserve you…”

[ravensale46-blog]

Neal’s Ultimate Gift Guide for Every Man in Your Life

Hey guys!

Neal here today. So, Jess did an Instagram poll yesterday asking when you guys wanted to start seeing gift guides, and turns out it’s…now 😂 (Evidently not everyone does all their Christmas shopping in late December like my wife! 😉) It seems like the overwhelming majority wanted one gift guide in particular…mine! (I’m flattered, really.) So, what did we do? Pulled late nights putting this first gift guide together for you. I hope you enjoy!

Jess also wanted me to add–since we’re doing gift guides much earlier this year, we’ll be updating them one more time in December as well, so for those of you who don’t shop until the last minute–don’t worry, we won’t leave you hanging.

Happy shopping!

1. Stylish, quality scarves: 

Scarves are can’t miss gifts for any guy-assuming you buy quality, good looking scarves 😉 Make sure he dresses for the cold like he cares about how he looks. I’m partial to J.Crew’s scarves (plus, Jess says they’re always on sale) and Barbour scarves (top-notch quality and you can’t beat the tartan patterns.) 

2. Nice gloves: 

Speaking of dressing warm and caring how you look–he’s likely in need of a glove upgrade. This leather pair is high quality, comes in several colors, and are lined with cashmere.

3. Mark & Graham Leather Tech Folio: 

This was actually Jess’ idea.  At first glance I thought it was dumb but now I really want one.  It’s a classy way to store an iPad, organize a desk, etc.  Get it for you dad/brother, your office secret Santa, or the dude you’ve been on dates with but “like are still not really dating 😉”

4. Barbour Ashby Jacket:

Jess got me this jacket last year and I absolutely love it.  Can be dressed up (even over a suit) and certainly looks great with anything else.  My go to for early and late winter months.

5. Timex watches: 

I like this brand because it’s classic, versatile, & affordable timepieces for the guy that needs a good looking watch. Jess got me this one last Christmas, which I love (I spotted it in GQ and dropped the hint). It’s a remake of a classic 1960’s design. 

6. Good skincare products:

Every guy, whether he asks for them or not, wants good skincare products. I always ask for them for Christmas–this year, Jess’ favorite clean beauty brand, Beautycounter, came out with a special set just for guys–the products are high quality and I love that it comes with a little travel bag. It includes a face wash, shave cream, aftershave, and face lotion for a steal at $45. I also love Brickell’s products, but they don’t come in a cool gift set!

7. Lole’s Packable Puffer Jacket:

Remember this jacket from this post? I’ve owned this jacket for about a month and I’ve worn it more than any other jacket.  I never thought I would be a puffer jacket guy, but this thing is light, crazy warm, and not remotely bulky, so it is still very stylish. I even wore it to the Bears game when it was freezing and stayed really warm. Plus, it rolls up into nothing, making it ideal for travel. 

8. Levi’s Light wash jeans:

Jess always gets asked what jeans I recommend for men–and Levi’s are my go-to. Always! But these are a nice change up from my dark skinny jeans.  Great for daytime or to offset a darker sweater or jacket.

9. Shinola card case: 

Shinola is one of my favorite American brands.  I carry one of their wallets every day and own several of their watches. If you read my gift guide last year, you already know––I can’t stand the giant George Costanza wallet. If he has a giant bulky wallet, he needs this instead. It only holds what he needs and is invisible in your pockets. 

10. Leather passport case: 

One of those gifts that doesn’t seem that cool at first, but it’s really awesome when you’re traveling. Jess got me one years ago and I absolutely love it.  Plus it makes me think of her every time I am dealing with a TSA agent. If you want to get your guy a trip but want something for him to open, this is the perfect gift for that! 

11. Chelsea Boots 

The most versatile boot in the game.  Perfect for the office or egg nog with Aunt Edna.  Sure to up any man’s style. I have a couple different pairs and they are my #1 pair of shoes in the winter. This pair is only $65 and very sharp–they come in both leather and black. If you’re willing to splurge–I’d recommend Vince’s boots–this is basically this year’s equivalent to the pair I got last year and I wear them every week. 

I also love…

Redwing boots: 

A signature gift for the mountain man in your life.  These are legendary.  I wore a pair of my grandpa’s on my first construction job and I still wear the brand today–if your guy needs quality, stylish winter boots, get these. They will last forever. They will outlive all of us.

12. Everlane Convertible Weekender Backpack: 

If you know me, you know I’m not a backpack to the office man (backpacks are not professional–that’s what briefcases are for), but this thing is perfect for travel and fun.  I used this exact bag to haul my stuff all over Italy this past summer.

13. Waterford Whiskey Tumblers:

Nice booze deserves nice glasses.  Don’t stop at buying that nice bottle for your boss, dad, or brother.  These are a great way to put a boozy gift over the top. Paired with a great whiskey or bourbon (I recommend Basil Hayden if you’re looking to spend around $30 or Blanton’s if you want to splurge) this combo is also the ideal gift for a guy you recently started dating but aren’t super serious with yet–it’s really nice, thoughtful, but not over the top. 

14. Cool Sweaters & Thermal Tops

Sweaters really are having a moment.  I love that trendy now seemingly means anything from crazy patterns to classic winter prints. Heavier tops seem to come and go with fashion, but this year brings some awesome items that work for layering if he’s headed to a football game or to ski, but are perfect on their own too.

15. Everlane cashmere hoodie:

Any guy would love to receive this, but in particular–this is for the guy who drives everyone crazy because he insists on wearing his hoodie everywhere in public. (Not acceptable.) With this, he can be comfortable and stylish at the same time. It looks great with Levi’s and any of the boots I linked above, or with sneakers. 

16. Workout Gear

I don’t know one guy that doesn’t need to up his workout gear at least a little bit.  Keep it simple and at least make him shelve the college frat wear. (There’s no way he will agree to toss it–but you better not make him!) My favorites: this Nike dry-fit hoodie, Nike joggers, and I haven’t personally tried these Zella shorts but they have great reviews and are on my wishlist. (Hint hint.) 

17. Fleece joggers:

To replace his ratty sweats–they’re nice and versatile enough for brunch or the gym, comfy enough for the couch.  Get em for your brother! 

18. Raen Sunglases

You know I’m a Ray Bans guy, but I got sick of seeing every. Single. Person. Wearing Ray Bans.  I did something about it.  Raen is a newer California based brand that I’ve started wearing and I’m very impressed. If your guy needs sunglasses but likes to be a little different, get him a pair. (These are the ones I have–Jess will link more below.)

19. Quality Record Player:

If he likes music and hasn’t gotten into vinyl, it is certainly not too late.  This is a great way to create a new hobby through a gift. (Get him a few of his favorite albums on vinyl to go with it–it makes it a really meaningful gift!) You just can’t describe the difference between a night in playing records and a night in playing Spotify. 

We have this Audiotechnica player which is a professional turntable that we connect to our Sonos speakers–it doesn’t have regular speakers. If you have a bit more to spend and your guy is a sound junkie–that’s definitely an awesome option to go with. (Especially paired with sonos speakers!) If you want one that plays independently with its own speakers, is a little more budget-friendly and also compatible with Bluetooth–I’d recommend this one. Crosley is a great brand! 

Do you have any other request you’d like to see? We’ll continue to add to this throughout the season, so let us know! 

Source: https://thegoldengirlblog.com/neals-ultimate-gift-guide-for-every-man-in-your-life/

[barbaryalan]

Phil was a first class huckster, and hustler extraordinare. A man of many angles you might say. he was one of the many characters that I came to know, while living on a houseboat, on Lake mead, just outside of Las Vegas, Nevada.

Now Live aboards, as those who live full time on boats are called, are a special breed, and Phil was no exception to this rule. He had a sailboat that he lived on, nice one too. Nothing gawdy or expensive, just good sized, 32′ maybe, maybe more, and seemed to be a comfortable little craft to live on.

Now he had no income that i was aware of, and though I think he may have been selling a little weed around the docks, he certainly was no kingpin. Now as I said, income that I was aware of.

He may very well have had some sort of disabilty claim I knew nothing about. I can tell you this though, he didn’t go to work. No, I think he had retired early, thanx to his huckster and hustler ways.

You see, Phil, in his earlier days had run a service station on Route 66, somewhere ‘In The Middle Of Nowhere’, Arizona. Now I need to emphasize ‘Service’ station here. Unlike today, wher most gas stations don’t do much more than sell you gas and snacks, back in the day, service stations were also auto repair shops. And along some of these more isolated stretches of highways, like Route 66, that tradition lasted a little longer than elsewhere, precisely because of the remoteness.

Now a remote highway, in blistering hot Arizona, really isn’t where you want to be breaking down. We all know the stories we have heard, of people being gouged , over charged, for auto repair in circumstances like this. The mecchanic knows you don’t have any options other than him, and charges accordingly. If you don’t like it, find someone else.

As much as this sucks, I think we have come to accept it. It is a pretty standard business model, charging what a desperate market will bear. but, that isn’t the hustle I am going to describe here. This hustle is outright scam artistry, fraud and theft.

Phil however, unabashadly told me that they had pulled the scam hundreds of times, not only never getting caught, never even being suspected of wrongdoing at all.

Let me further flesh out the scenario. 100+ degrees, not just at the heat of the day, but for a significant stretch of the day, for a good half of the year. Areas where, the hundred and teens are normal highs, for 3 months of the year, and 95+ for another 7 or 8 months of the year. Yes, that is the math, 10-11 months a year with highs above 90 degrees.

So Phil has a service station, not on the pre-50’s thriving Route 66, but on the struggling to stay relevant thanx to Interstate 40 Route 66.

Many of the businesses, that did so well in Route 66’s heyday, when it was the Mother Road, the lifeblood of the country, the connective binding, of the two Coasts, had gone. Had cashed out, moved closer to the Interstate, or just quit, as the Interstate slowly choked the life out of Route 66.

But where others threw in the towel, cut and run, Phil saw an opportunity. People were still travelling Route 66, it wasn’t abandoned, covered in tumbleweeds. Not yet anyway, not like now.

You have to remember, that I met Phil in the 90’s, and he had this station in the late 70’s and the 80’s. So Interstate 40 wasn’t actually finished cross country yet, at least when he started . It was being finished, piecemeal, at different times in different parts of the country, so though I-40 was seriously draining the traffic off of The Mother Road, it was far from dead. Many people were still opting for the less convenient, slower route. Some, honestly, out of fear of the speed of the new Interstates. Others, out of habit. Still others, as a thumb in the eye of the speed of American commerce, at the expense of culture, of panoramic views, at the expense of priceless Americana.

For whatever reason, many people stilled braved the mother road, and took the scenic route. Some of them went Precisely because it was decaying and disappearing. These were the people Phil was counting on. You see, this stretch of desert is hot, I mean extrememly hot, and automobiles, even those in good shape, are going to act up. They are going to overheat, things are going to fail, going to start acting up.

Now, many of these issues are minor, and most involve letting the vehicle cool off. Quite often, the problem, though real, may only act up under extreeme heat conditions. So if you aren’t going to vbe crossing the desert regularly, you could just take a few more rest breaks, drive more at night, and not incure the costs of repair at all.

Or, perhaps it is a minor issue, that could be fixed at your destination, again, if you play gentle with the car in the heat. But those things, that advice, is not what a huckster like Phil is going to do.

Nope!

As he told the story, the mark would roll in, worried about the performance of their vehicle. Phil would look it over, see if he could actually find a problem to address. If he found it, he would fix it, overcharge you, and send you on your way.

However, if their was nothing really wrong with your car, if you were just the panicky type, or the thouroughly uninformed about vehicles, well, he had a special service plan for you!

It was almost like he felt the need to punish and fleece those he determined to be too dumb to own a car in the first place. Especially, if they had money, which a nice car was indicative of. He was definitely a believer in that old PT Barnum line, “There’s a sucker born every minute.

Phil would give the car a once over, then, commenting on the havoc the hills around there would wreak on a transmission, offer to check that out as well. Now the customer of course, wants to avoid a transmission failure out in the middle of the desert, almost begs him to do so. In effect, begging to be sheered, like a sheep.

Phil would climb under the car, drain the transmission, and stick his finger in the drain plub, muttering incoherently. Then, unbeknownst to the customer, he would dip that tranny fluid soaked finger in some fine metal shavings on the shop floor, while getting out from under the car. He would show those shavings in the fluid to the owner of the car, and begin to tell the owner how lucky they were that they stopped. That had they gone on by, they would have absolutely blown their transmission, in the middle of the desert.

Now the customer, knowing nothing about cars, and seeing the shavings in the fluid, really doesn’t think they have any other options. in fact, they may even feel as if this mechanic just saved their ass from catastrophe, and be grateful to do whatever he tells them they need to do. So of course, when he tells them he can get them a rebuilt transmission, and put it in for them, they readily agree.

When he tells them it might take two days to get here, but then he would get it in right away, they agree to it. When he tells them, that he can save them a little bit of money, if they give the tranny shop the old transmission to them, for them to rebuild for the next guy, they buy in, tell him to do whatever he needs to do.

So Phil sends them to a friends hotel down the street, to stay for the 2-3 days it is going to take to get this work done. Then Phil gets to the meat of the hustle.

He pulls off the transmission cover, throws it in the back of his truck. Then he drives out to a place where he can power wash it, and gets it cleaned up real nice, perhaps going as far as to paint it.

When it looks all shiny and new, he takes it back to the shop. Once there, he hides it for a day or so, then installs it on the car. He fills it back up with fluid, and voila! He can now overcharge you for the instalation of a rebuilt transmission, when all he really did was a fluid change!

As I said before, he was never caught for this. Never even suspected. The sheep came, they got sheered, then went on their way, thanking him for the privilege.

That, was his retirement program, the fleecing of sheep, and the swindling of suckers. Sometimes, crime does pay.

      Phil, On Shaving A Tranny… Tweekaderos In Vegas, Saints and Sinners Phil was a first class huckster, and hustler extraordinare. A man of many angles you might say.

[foamingkitty]

5 Questions with Barbara from House of Jamie

Team Babyccino is a lucky one indeed. We get to look at lovely things day in, day out, and we’re never short of inspiration with the beautiful stories (and hard, hard work) behind so many of our shops. Amsterdam-based House of Jamie is a perfect example. The talented and determined Barbara Gouka has built a brand from scratch – from product development in her back garden to selling worldwide – all whilst sticking to her eco principles and being a mum. Just how did she manage that, we wonder? We thought you might like to know too, so we asked Barbara our 5 Questions to find out more.

1. Please tell us a little bit about yourself, where you live and about your family.

I am a 35 year old proud mummy of two little rebel girls Jamie (5) & Teddie (2). I ’ve been together with my husband Wouter for 11 years now, we got married when I was pregnant with Jamie. We live in my all-time favourite city, Amsterdam, but I grew up in a small village nearby in a family of five. I have an older sister and younger brother who I see and talk to almost daily.

I moved to Amsterdam when I was 19 to study Fashion & Branding at the Amsterdam Fashion Institute. During my studies I completed two different internships, both at fashion labels, in men and women’s apparel. After that experience I wasn’t too keen to start a career in fashion and ended up a totally different business! I worked at National Geographic Channel for 5 years, where I was responsible for B2B marketing and communications. I loved it very much and got to travel to many beautiful places in the world.

2. Tell us a little bit about your brand and how you came to create your label.

When I got pregnant with Jamie I started the search for the perfect nursery, but at that time I wasn’t able to find the style/price range I was looking for. I noticed this little gap in the market and the idea to start my own baby label was born! We welcomed little Jamie to the world in May 2011 and when she was about 4 months old I started working on my business plan – right around the time I had to return to work from maternity leave! Six months later I was ready to order my first run of production samples, which obviously required some investment. I took the plunge and decided to quit my job so I could focus completely on House of Jamie – it turned out working two jobs and raising a baby at the same time was a bit tough And then – finally! – the big moment arrived; on 2nd October 2012, we launched House of Jamie with the first Baby Essentials & Home Collection. From that day on it has been one big amazing rollercoaster!

We started as a webstore label only, but we kept receiving lots wholesale requests so decided to become a retail label as well. Just one year later (2013), we expanded the collection to include a clothing line, available ‘year round’. We started by offering items for boys and girls aged 0-4, but recently extended to 8 years. Now, almost 5 years later, our label is sold worldwide and from being a ‘one woman show’ I now get to work with the most amazing team from our Amsterdam-based office.

3. What is important to you when designing and producing your products?

My kids are always a part of the designs I create. I see them moving around, being happy when they play, moody when they are tired and so peaceful when they are sleeping. All of this brings a constant flow of ideas that I try to gather in my mind and on a piece of paper, and I try to apply this during the design process. Keywords like minimalistic, sophisticated, classic and playful more or less typify our style. One thing that is always top of mind is making sure every design has the perfect fit – and is stylish, yet comfy and practical. For example, most items from the baby essential & home range are ‘double faced’ (reversible), giving you the opportunity to maximise the use of your baby’s products.

We try to work with the finest and most natural fabrics and materials for our collections. Most fabrics are Oeko-Tex certified, like the Italian cotton fleece (with a special brushed backside) and the single cotton jersey we use for summer items. Additionally we use Terry Cotton and 100% organic linen for a part our Baby Essentials & Home Collection. It’s all very soft for our little customers and also, importantly for mum and dad, sustainable. We produce our collections with the utmost care and attention for the environment in Istanbul, at a small-scale production facility, run by a father and his son.

4. How do you juggle motherhood and your career?

I must say this is definitely one the biggest challenges. I’ve always been very dedicated to my job and am used to working long hours. During my time at National Geographic Channel it was very easy to flip that switch when coming home. But since I started House of Jamie it’s much more difficult. I have a lot of energy; it’s always running through me at a very high level. I try to get as much as possible done in a day, especially now that I only work 3 days a week at the office. The other days I work from home when Teddie is asleep and during the evenings. This way I’m able to pick up Jamie from school, have her friends over to play and most importantly I can spend more time with the girls. Especially now they are getting older! Teddie just celebrated her 2nd birthday – I just can’t believe how fast it’s going.

5. A hard question! You’ve grown a business from scratch, employ a team and sell your brand worldwide. What are you most proud of in your House of Jamie journey?

My husband reminded me of something just the other day. He asked: can you still remember the day you started from our home office, working 24/7, packing the first very orders in our garden shed (where we created a small storage) and bicycling packages to the nearest postal office?! Looking back at the years that passed and all the hard work I am still very happy I made the decision to take this joyride! I don’t say so often, but I am a little bit proud of what I achieved so far with my label. And of all the help I got from my family, my endlessly patient husband, and above all the lovely and dedicated House of Jamie team!

I can’t wait to celebrate our 5th anniversary in October! We are planning something really special, so stay tuned!

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