#also hello its cold here!!! its like 50 degrees | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sibylsleaves · 2 years ago

Text

The 911 fic writer’s guide to LA

I asked if anyone would be interested in a short little guide to LA for fic-writing reference, and surprisingly I got a lot of replies. I lived in LA for 20 years so while I’m not an EXPERT per se I thought there might be some knowledge I could share for people who want more info about the city of Los Angeles to add a bit of realism to their fics. I can’t cover everything, so this is just a sampling of stuff that may or may not be useful. I got some additional help from @swiftiesisters14 who added some great insights and details. YMMV of course!

Weather and climate: for the most part, yes, it is very warm and sunny in L.A. the majority of the year. Rain is very uncommon, especially from May - October, and when it does come it usually lasts a couple days up to maybe a week on and off. Rainstorms and thunderstorms are very rare. It does not snow but it does, very rarely, hail. Within a few miles of the ocean, mornings will be quite cold and cloudy thanks the marine layer–this is true even in the summer. “June Gloom” is a phenomenon in LA where we get a lot of cloudy weather in May/June (usually just in the morning although it can sometimes last all day). It can get fairly cold at night during the winter (though almost never below freezing). Even during the summer, nights aren’t as warm as you might imagine, as the dry air makes temperatures drop quicker once the sun goes down (if your characters are going anywhere during a warm day and expect to be there until night, they will most likely bring a jacket).

There’s a HUGE difference in weather/temperature between the coastal parts of the city and areas further east (and especially into the Valley, where it is frequently over 100 F degrees in the summer). Closer to the ocean, highs typically don’t break 90 unless there’s a heat wave, lows typically stay above 50 except for some nights in the winter. September is often the hottest month of the year (this surprises a lot of people). This also coincides with wildfire season, which used to be roughly September-October, but has started earlier and earlier and lasts later and later into the fall (hello climate change).

Most people from LA are fairly sensitive to the cold and will definitely wear jackets and such the minute it drops below 68 degrees. Many Angelenos do not own a proper winter coat or snow boots or rain boots. Air conditioning is very common in homes and businesses, so hot days are less of an issue if you’re staying indoors. The heat here is DRY, so if you’re used to sticky East Coast heat, this is a totally different beast. Hot weekend days result in swamped beaches and tons of beach traffic. When it DOES rain, even just a little drizzle, the entire city tends to go fucking nuts, and everyone forgets how to drive (a stereotype that is unfortunately very accurate). I imagine the 118 gets LOTS of calls on rainy days because Angelenos just do not understand how to deal with rain.

Santa Ana winds: you may have heard of these. they suck. Basically an extremely hot, extremely dry, extremely high-speed wind that blows into LA for a week/up to a few weeks at a time and make your allergies go crazy. Trust me, it’s miserable. It usually happens in fall, although they can happen at other times of the year (and doesn’t necessarily happen every year. They’re unpredictable). A weather advisory will go out discouraging from making outdoor fires/doing fire-related activities during this time, as fires can spread extremely rapidly in these conditions. The Santa Anas have a somewhat mythological status in LA, because people sort of think they make people crazy and unpredictable (i mean, it’s not hard to see why--who wouldn’t be irritable in these conditions?) In addition to the Santa Anas, wind storms in general are not uncommon, especially in fall, and winds can cause a lot of damage to powerlines/trees/etc.

Wildfire season: Usually at its peak in September/October, can last all the way into December some years. Areas that are susceptible to burning are the hilly/mountainous areas that surround LA, including Topanga Canyon, the Santa Monica mountains, the San Gabriel Mountains, Malibu, etc. Even if there is a fire that’s miles and miles away, depending on winds it can cause the air in LA to be very smoky and dangerous to breathe. There can sometimes be ash literally falling from the sky...like you go to your car and it’s just coated in ash. Again, this doesn’t happen every year but it’s becoming more and more frequent. 2020 was a particularly bad wildfire year.

Water: California has basically been in one giant drought for the past two decades. Water conservation is a big deal, especially in LA which literally imports a lot of its water. There’s restrictions on when/how long/how you water your lawn. When conditions get really bad, they will place restrictions on commercial water features (fountains and the like) and do stuff like make it so that restaurants only serve you water if you ask for it. There’s always stuff about shortening showers/washing dishes more efficiently/etc. I wouldn’t say it’s necessarily something Angelenos think about on a day-to-day basis but it is part of living in LA.

Earthquakes: small earthquakes happen fairly frequently and most people won’t even notice them (what often happens is you’ll be sitting there and you’ll be like was that an earthquake? And then you google whether there was an earthquake nearby). Occasionally a small-to-medium earthquake might wake you up in the middle of the night. Larger earthquakes that actually cause injuries/fatalities are much rarer.

Driving and Traffic: traffic in L.A. is no joke. If your characters are driving virtually anywhere during the afternoon, they WILL be stuck in traffic or they will worry about getting stuck in traffic. Fridays are the absolute worst traffic days. Something can be “10 minutes away” and take half an hour to actually drive. (For instance, Buck’s drive to get to Eddie’s? during peak traffic hours that could take easily 30-40 minutes). Traffic is a huge consideration in most Angelenos daily lives–-there are certain places you just DO NOT GO during certain hours of the day if you can avoid it, or you have to budget in extra time in case there’s bad traffic. Gridlock in main arteries of the city is extremely common.

LA drivers are known to be aggressive, decisive, and rude. If you display a single second of hesitation or indecisiveness on the road (whether thats making a turn or changing lanes or running a yellow) you WILL get honked at. Maybe this is why Eddie prefers to have Buck drive him around. Pedestrians on the other hand are incredibly timid and cautious. You will almost never see people in LA jaywalking the way they do in East Coast cities.

A common topic of conversation in LA is various driving routes (yes, it’s a stereotype, but at least when I lived there it was true). Why? Because it is essential to know multiple routes to get from place to place because one or more of them will be congested, and knowing alternate routes can be a lifesaver (although everyone uses apps now, but that is its own topic of discussion amongst Angelenos.)

Freeways are referred to as “the ___” (so the 10, the 405, the 101, the 5, etc. Although the Pacific Coast Highway is just PCH--almost no one calls it the 1). There are very few toll roads in LA--in fact, I don’t know of any.

Parking in L.A. also sucks, and knowledge of little-known, cheap and/or questionably legal places to park in popular neighborhoods is social capital. Restaurants with valet parking outside are very common in certain upscale neighborhoods (Cher Horowitz was right about that).

Public Transportation: has improved somewhat over the past decade when they built out the Metro a little, but is still pretty paltry and inconvenient given the size of the city. L.A. remains a very driving-heavy city. Truthfully, in my 20 years of living in LA i almost never took public transportation except when I was too young to drive and took the bus. LA is also not a very bike-friendly city, and there are only a few streets with dedicated bike lanes. BUT you will often see people biking on dedicated bike paths near the beach.

Geography of the city: It’s hard to fathom just how big and sprawling LA actually is unless you’ve lived here or another geographically huge city like it. You can spend your whole life living in L.A. and there will be parts of the city you have never set foot in and know virtually nothing about (and that is partially because traffic makes getting around to these different enclaves extremely arduous). It is a sprawling behemoth, like six or seven cities smushed into one. And actually, there ARE in fact five other cities/unincorporated communities that exist within the borders of Los Angeles: Santa Monica, Culver City, Beverly Hills, West Hollywood, and Marina del Rey, as well as surrounding municipalities that many people consider “L.A.” (such as Compton, Pasadena, Santa Clarita, Malibu, Long Beach, Burbank, Glendale, etc. etc.) As it would be impossible to run through every neighborhood in L.A., here are just a few popular areas near the downtown area where the 118 firehouse is (apparently) located. This is roughly moving east-west but you can look at a map for more precise geography:

Downtown: definitely the most dense “urban-y” part of L.A. with tons of skyscrapers, high-rises, etc. Downtown LA is huge, with lots of sub-neighborhoods and districts, including the Fashion district, Chinatown, Skid Row, and Little Tokyo. Like any downtown, there are a lot of attractions here, like the convention center, sports arenas, theaters and music venues, nightlife etc. This is where Buck’s loft is according to this helpful guide and based on the establishing shot they use, which includes the East Columbia building, a notable Art Deco building that is smack downtown. (It’s the greenish building with the clock on it that you can see in many episodes). To the southwest of downtown is where you’ll find the University of Southern California (USC) where May is starting college.

Silverlake/LA River area: includes Silver Lake, Echo Park (home to Dodger Stadium), Los Feliz, Little Armenia, Westlake and the Griffith Park area (home to the LA Zoo). To be honest I don’t know this area very well because I lived in West LA and didn’t spend a lot of time over here, and also it has gentrified quite a bit. Silver Lake is pretty artsy and trendy, with a lot of small local businesses, and also has historical ties to the LGBT community so there are lots of queer-friendly bars and community spaces.

Koreatown (aka K-Town): pretty cool/trendy neighborhood that was historically home to L.A.’s large Korean immigrant population. The makeup of this neighborhood now is actually a majority Latine, but you’ll still find a lot of Korean food and markets in K-Town. A very commercial area with lots of bars, restaurants, clubs, and shops as well as apartments. Koreatown has an extremely fascinating history, which I will not go into here.

Hollywood: super touristy, this is where you can find the walk of fame (the stars with celebrities names on them), the Chinese Theater, and like, Ripley’s Believe or Not museum. Used to be where most of the major film studios had their studios, but most of them have moved. Best place in Hollywood in MY opinion is the Hollywood Bowl, which is a beautiful outdoor concert venue tucked into the hills.

West Hollywood: a fairly upscale residential and shopping area, but not a bougie as Beverly Hills and not as touristy as Hollywood. West Hollywood is actually its own city/town (although Hollywood is NOT), and is well-known as a historically LGBT+ village/district (historically much of L.A.’s gay population lived here...these days it’s a bit more complicated thanks to gentrification.) As such it’s got a little more of an “alternative” reputation than Hollywood and Beverly Hills, although to be honest it’s lost a lot of its “edge” so to speak. This is where you’ll find the Sunset Strip (historic nightlife area on Sunset Blvd--I would say its more touristy nightlife). Nearby you’ll also find The Grove shopping center, and the La Brea tarpits and The Los Angeles County Museum of Art (LACMA), both of which are popular field trip destinations.

Beverly Hills: actually a separate city from LA but it’s kind of right in the middle of it. Very upscale. Home to Rodeo Drive, Lots of upscale shopping, big beautiful houses, luxury hotels, trendy restaurants, etc. It’s basically where all the rich people live and hang out and it’s very, like, bougie and curated. Parts of Beverly Hills are in fact hilly, but most of the commercial areas are flat.

West LA: Lots of smaller residential neighborhoods interspersed with commercial corridors (this is where I’m from). You’ll find Sawtelle Japantown here (kind of a smaller Little Tokyo with Japanese markets and shops), as well as “Little Tehran”/Tehrangeles (lots of Persian markets, shops and restaurants. There’s a large community of Iranian-Americans in this part of the city and you’ll definitely see signs in Persian/Farsi.) Brentwood is another upperclass/rich people neighborhood around here, as well as UCLA’s campus in Westwood. I believe according to this guide that Eddie, Bobby and Athena, and potentially Hen and Karen all live near West LA (looks like Athena and Bobby’s house might be in Culver City? idk)

Culver City: another city within LA. Culturally speaking I’d say Culver city is pretty much like West LA and it has gentrified a LOT in the past decade or so. Idk what else to say about Culver City...it has a romance-centered independent bookstore called The Ripped Bodice. And an ice rink!

Santa Monica: this is slightly further afield but still significant because Santa Monica is where the closest beaches are located, and is obviously home to the Santa Monica Pier (RIP). Parts of Santa Monica are pretty trendy and upscale, and is also kind of “business-y” because a lot of entertainment companies are headquartered here. 3rd Street Promenade is a pedestrian-only shopping district that’s quite popular, with 3 blocks of shops, restaurants, movie theaters, and more. Lots of buskers and street performers. A popular hangout for families and youths (or at least it was when I was a youth). There’s also a huge mall at one end of it.

Other beach communities: Venice Beach (has a very weed and art and hippies vibe, and is where you’ll find the boardwalk with lots of artisan stalls and shops), Marina Del Rey (lots of restaurants and boats and water-based activities), the Palisades (beautiful oceanside cliffy/hilly neighborhood where lots of rich people live), Malibu (very bougie, touristy, and upscale.)

LAX: not a neighborhood, but I thought I’d include the infamous airport of Los Angeles. (There are actually something like 4-5 other nearby airports, but LAX is the biggest). LAX is kind of infamously terrible, because it’s huge, often congested, annoying to navigate, and not very well-planned. Getting in and out during peak travel times can be a nightmare. Driving someone to/from LAX is a true act of love (I only do it for my most beloved family members and friends). The best thing I can say about LAX is that there’s an iconic art installation as you drive in/out, which are these pillars that light up in different colors.

The Valley: directly north of the other areas I just covered. Referred to as one entity by people who don’t live there, but the Valley is actually comprised of many different cities, including LA, Burbank, Calabasas, and San Fernando. It is MUCH hotter here than the rest of LA and a little more suburban-y. My experience of the Valley as someone who does NOT live there is mainly “ugh I have to drive to the Valley.” AKA, it’s to be avoided. Burbank has its own airport and a lot of the film studios are headquartered there.

Demographics: L.A. is one of the most diverse cities in the world. About a quarter of residents of Los Angeles are white (non-hispanic). Latine people make up about half the population (mainly Mexican and Mexican-Americans). There are also sizable Black, East Asian (mainly Chinese, Japanese, and Korean), Arabic, and South Asian populations. Additionally, LA is home to the largest concentration of Armenians and Iranians outside of Armenia and Iran, respectively. There is a significant and diverse Jewish population.

Food: as you might imagine, the huge amount of diversity in L.A. means the food is equally diverse (and extremely delicious). You can find almost any kind of cuisine in L.A., but common types of cuisine include: sushi, thai, Persian (my personal favorite food to get in LA), chinese, pizza, Jewish delis, shawarma, pho, Korean BBQ (particularly in K-Town) and of course, tacos and other Mexican food, along with your standard “American” fare like burgers (you might find yourself wondering why everyone is so obsessed with In-N-Out even though their french fries are such garbage....), seafood (lots of nice-ish seafood places near the beach where the food is overpriced bc you’re really paying for the view), sandwiches (Bay Cities my beloved <3), etc. as well as lots of trendy fusion cuisine. Additionally, everyone who lives in LA has gone to Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles at least once their life--it is an institution.

Housing: Expensive. I mean, what did you expect? Single-family homes are quite common in LA vs. apartment buildings and condos. In addition, there is a HUGE population of unhoused people in Los Angeles (in fact it ranks No. 2 for the highest number of people experiencing homelessness in the US). I won’t go into all the political hows and whys here, but this is a huge humanitarian crisis and a powder-keg issue amongst LA residents.

Most houses have a backyard and a front lawn and may or may not have a fence/gate. Few houses have basements. I don’t really know why that is.

Lots of houses and apartment complexes have pools, but mainly in richer/upper-class neighborhoods who can afford the upkeep. Many LA parks have a community pool. Some schools even do, too.

Trees and flowers: I personally like knowing what kind of plants there are in any given setting, so here are some noteworthy trees and flowers found in LA:

Palm trees -- of course. The classic. Particularly common to the Venice, Santa Monica, and Beverly Hills areas, but you can find them all over. There are actually a lot of different types, but the most common is the extremely tall skinny Mexican fan palm variety.

Jacarandas -- certain neighborhoods in LA will burst into furious purple bloom during jacaranda season (usually April-June) and the sidewalks will be littered with squished flowers for weeks

Ficus trees -- idk maybe these were specific to my neighborhood but we had a LOT of them

Birds of paradise -- I think this is the official flower of LA. Found in a lot of gardens.

Bougainvillea

Night-blooming jasmine -- smells incredible

Other notes: trees don’t really change color in the fall--you might see a few here and there with orange leaves, but for the most part we don’t get that nice fall foliage (nor do we really...have a fall season...). Grass lawns are common in residential areas (sadly) but more and more people are replacing them with succulent gardens and native gardens (yay!).

School: Public schools in LA go Grades K-5 for elementary, 6-8 for Middle School, and 9-12 for High School. The school year starts mid-August and ends mid-June (evidently they changed this since I was in school). Kids get three weeks of vacation for winter break (usually the week before Christmas - week after New Years) and one week for Spring Break (around Easter).

Sports: there are TOO many sports teams for one city, even one as big as ours (absurdly, four of them share the same arena). They are as follows:

Baseball: the Dodgers are the main L.A. team (who are doing EXTREMELY well this season). They play at Dodger Stadium in Echo Park, and their fans tend to be more die-hard and stalwart. There’s also the Anaheim Angels, which some Angelenos root for, who play...idk somewhere in Anaheim.

Basketball: the Lakers, of course, and the Clippers. They both play at Staples Center which is located downtown (and as of last year is called Crypto.com Arena, ugh). In my experience Lakers fans are the most fair-weather of LA sports fans--they get super intense when the Lakers are good, and when they’re not, well... Clippers fans tend to be more die-hard and less fair-weather because, well, they have to be (sorry). The Sparks are the WNBA team. They ALSO play at the Staples Center (aka Crypto.com Arena but I refuse to call it that).

Hockey: the Kings. They ALSO play at The Stadium Formerly Known as Staples Center. I don’t follow hockey so idk anything else about them.

Football: the Rams and the Chargers. They both play at SoFi stadium in Inglewood (near the airport). Both are recent additions (2016 and 2017 respectively I think). When I lived in LA we had zero football teams and now we have two so I have no idea whats going on there.

Soccer: LAFC (Los Angeles Football Club) who play at the Banc of California Stadium near downtown and LA Galaxy who play at Dignity Health Sports Club near Compton. There is also a women’s team, Angel City FC, who also play at Banc of California Stadium. I know virtually nothing about soccer but hey, the stadium is going to feature heavily in the season 6 premiere!

Hollywood/celebrities/the Film Industry: you will absolutely see celebrities roaming around L.A. from time to time, especially if you frequent certain trendy areas like West Hollywood/Melrose, Santa Monica, Brentwood, etc. I wouldn’t say it’s common, but it’s not super rare. (I’ve seen like a handful of celebrities in the 20 years I lived there.)

You will DEFINITELY see filming happening all around the city. Usually you’ll see signs posted (usually with code names for whatever project it is), trucks, and tons of crewmembers walking around. Occasionally a street or other location might be blocked off for filming, but usually not anything too disruptive.

You will also see those “star-watchers” bus tours (where people go on a tour bus and they like drive around celebrity neighborhoods and look at celebrity houses) in and around the Beverly Hills, Hollywood, and West Hollywood areas. I use to see these tour buses every single day on my commute through Beverly Hills.

There’s also, of course, many people living in LA who work in the industry or are trying to make it as an actor or writer or what have you. There are disproportionately attractive waiters/baristas in certain parts of LA because many of them are waiting tables to support acting careers. This is a stereotype but it’s also pretty true in my experience.

Studios are kind of sprinkled all over the city--there are some in West LA, some in West Hollywood, but the biggest concentration of studios is in Burbank, which is actually its own city in the Valley.

Places to go: in case you want some ideas for fun outings for fic purposes, here’s a list of places in or within reasonable distance of LA (not an exhaustive list obviously):

Disneyland

Universal Studios

Knott’s Berry Farm (this is a small-ish theme park, not an actual berry farm in case that’s unclear)

Six Flags

The Long Beach Aquarium

The LA Zoo (of course)

The Griffith’s Observatory (and Griffith Park in general)

The Getty Museum (very beautiful museum up in the hills with a gorgeous view of the city)

The Getty Villa (different place, also a museum)

Huntington Gardens/Library/Museum

Walt Disney Concert Hall

Echo Park Lake (they have SWAN BOATS 🦢)

LA Science Center/Museum of Natural History

Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA)

JPL (Jet Propulsion Lab): this is where Karen works. Located in Pasadena. Once or twice a year they’ll do an open house where you can go and learn all about the types of stuff they’re doing. It’s very cool!

Catalina Island

Various beaches--closest would be Santa Monica, Venice, Will Rogers (Pacific Palisades), Playa Del Rey, Dockweiler (to my knowledge this is the only beach that allows bonfires). A bit further: Hermosa Beach, Long Beach, Manhattan Beach, Malibu, Huntington Beach

San Diego! Technically close enough for a day trip, but due to traffic you’d most likely want to stay the night.

Palm Springs (same kind of deal, although I’ve done it as a day trip)

If there’s anything I left out that you want to know about, please shoot me a message and I’ll add it! If you spot any errors, please also let me know. This is based mostly on my knowledge/experience of living in LA, but I did some additional research for stuff I wasn’t sure about or just needed a little more detail on (shout out to @swiftiesisters14 for her help!)

The geography might be a little generalized and I left out a LOT of the city, mostly because I just don’t think anyone wants to read a twenty-page paper on LA neighborhoods. If you want any additional details on a certain area/topic feel free to shoot me a message and I’ll do my best to help.

In general, if you ever have questions about LA while writing fic, I am happy to answer to them (if I can).

#911 fic writing reference #911 fic writers guide to LA #i actually had so much fun putting this together #no idea if any of it is remotely helpful but hey now you know a little more about LA

467 notes · View notes

foodreceipe · 3 years ago

Text

Discovering our food: beans

September 30, 2019 by popsiclesociety

Beans, like many other legumes, represent one of the most consumed foods in the world and among the different civilizations there has always been their symbolic classification.

In ancient times, the bean was considered a symbol of immortality due to its prerogative of regaining freshness with the simple immersion in water.

In ancient Egypt, the “Dolichos” (eye beans) was the ritual food of the priests but among the Romans they were consumed by the people and Virgil called them “vilem phaseulum” because they were too common and therefore unworthy of illustrious families.

Considered legumes of very insignificant food value, especially during the Middle Ages, the beans became a Christian symbol of continence and humility, and were kept away from the tables of the wealthier people who preferred to eat meat.

The beans, Phaseolus vulgaris, are one of the most important leguminous plants, originating from Peru.

After Christopher Columbus discovered them on his second trip to Cuba, the Spaniards and Portuguese introduced them to Europe in the 16th century. Not that at the time the bean was unknown, the variety known in Europe was Vigna sinensis, of African and Asian origin, better known as eye beans, but the “Phaseolus vulgaris” conquered the old continent very quickly thanks to its tender skin, its sweet taste and its greater productivity.

Today, in certain Mexican markets, you can buy up to 25 different varieties of beans.

The bean plant is an annual climber that belongs to the order of legumes and to the Papillonaceae family. The edible part of the plants are its seeds (beans) but there are also varieties such as green beans and jackdaws, which have also edible pods.

The bean plant can be dwarf or climbing, the dwarf variety is more precocious, therefore suitable for a fast rotation, which allows more harvest. For this reason it is often preferred in our vegetable garden, where we can free up space quickly.

The bean plant loves warm and temperate climates, it is sown in areas that are well exposed to the sun. The ideal soil should be soft, medium-textured, with a pH of around 5. This plant, however, adapts very well to various types of soil, even if it does not like those too sandy or with too much clay.

It should be sown in spring, however, they can be sown throughout the summer, with an autumn harvest. If it is sown late, it is better to put the kidney beans, which have a faster cycle. The bean is sown by placing a seed every 3-4 centimeters, on rows at a distance of 50 cm.

You can soak the seed 12 hours before planting it to speed it up, this anticipates by 2-3 days and reduces the hardening of the soil, otherwise the seed takes about 7 days to emerge if the temperature is above 14 degrees, the grow is faster if the temperature is around 20 degrees. On the other hand, the cold weather can block the grow by causing the seed to rot.

For the climbing species, remember to put the adequate support.

The beans can also be kept in pots on the balcony but you must have a large enough container and be constant in watering the plant.

As for the timing, the beans are ready to harvest after 80 – 120 days from sowing.

The beans are harvested ripe, with a completely colored pod that tends to wither, unlike the eat-away beans that are instead green and tender.

Every year, around 18 million tons of beans from around 300 different species are produced worldwide.

Today, more than 500 varieties of beans are available on the market, direct descendants of the common bean, which can be classified into two large macro-families: cannellini beans and borlotti beans.

Cannellini beans – generally smaller than borlotti – are characterized by a more delicate pulp and a finer peel. They can be white, pale yellow or pale pink.

The borlotti have a more floury pulp and a thicker peel, with a striped color.

The South American varieties Lima (large, white and flat), black beans and black eye beans are very well known too.

Some varieties are sweet, like the Japanese Azuki bean, other varieties “explode” such as popcorn, like the Mexican variety Nuña.

A precious food despite its peasant nature, it is often used in exclusively winter dishes, underestimating its ability to enrich also fresh dishes. In fact, cooked white beans go very well with salads and aromatic herbs. If seasoned with parsley, tarragon and a little oil, they release fine, delicate and almost sugary flavors.

These legumes can, in fact, be subjected to a long cooking, in a normal or pressure cooker, to become a soft cream able to flavor not only the minestrone, but also the first courses. A classic recipe of poor cooking, made famous also by the cinema, is pasta and beans, a simple but full-flavored dish, to be served on the table very hot and well seasoned, with the right dose of spices and aromas, without forgetting the rosemary.

The beans are readily available on the market, both in the version of dry beans, which before being cooked require a period of soaking in water for a few hours, both in the pre-cooked version, canned or in glass, perfect for those with a few minutes to cook but that don’t want to give up in using them.

Depending on your tastes, you can choose between the different varieties, which differ in color, texture and taste. You can use the different types of beans: white, black, viola, red and yellow to give taste and color to a beautiful salad, perfect to be proposed among the side dishes or appetizers of your menu.

The beans in the kitchen become the protagonists not only of the first courses, but also of second courses and side dishes with a sweet and delicate taste. In addition to using them together with other vegetables for the preparation of original vegetarian burgers, you can simply cook them in a pan with a tasty tomato sauce, to bring the beans to the table. Sometimes the easiest recipes are also the most appreciated.

Some recipes with beans that I love are: bean soup, Cannellini bean cream, pasta and beans, sausages and beans, beans hamburger, beans meatballs, tacos.

Beans, like all legumes, are protein-rich foods of vegetable origin.

From a nutritional point of view, the bean is a food rich in vegetable proteins, lacking of the fats that normally accompany animal proteins, lending itself to diets low in cholesterol, and contribute greatly to the prevention of cardiovascular diseases and obesity, while the constituent element of the peel is the fiber that has a decisive role in the regularity of intestinal functions. The percentages vary depending on the variety, but it can be stated that for 100 g of cooked beans, there is a percentage of protein between 8 and 20%.

Beans have high amounts of macro-elements such as phosphorus, iron, potassium and even micro-elements such as calcium, as well as vitamins such as vitamins A, B and C.

The beans are rich in lecithin, a substance that favors the dissolution of fat, preventing it from accumulating in the blood and thus reducing the level of cholesterol.

Good to know is that canned beans are as good as dry ones, but they have a high sodium content, so it is good to drain and rinse them before consuming them.

Thank you all for reading.

Join me next time and let’s discover Myanmar, the second country on earth that produces dry beans after India.

In Myanmar, the beans are normally grown immediately after the harvest of the main rice crop in the delta region (lower parts of Myanmar) and are grown as a monsoon crop in the central plain areas and Shan State (East part of country).

And if you would like to discover more about our food, you may enjoy my previous posts

Discovering our food: Cauliflower

Discovering our food: Grapes

Discovering our food: Eggplants

Discovering our food: Parsley

Discovering our food: Zucchini

Discovering our food: Watermelon

Discovering our food: Tomatoes

Discovering our food: Basil

Photo credit Pixabay & Google Images edited by Popsicle Society

https://popsiclesociety.com/2019/09/30/discovering-our-food-beans/

#Beans #Food #https://foodreceipe.tumblr.com/archive #fruits and vegetables

4 notes · View notes

rina-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Calm Waters (Part 1)

Summary: For the last five years, you have been locked away twelve to sixteen hours a day in a cell...filled with water. Your ability to hold your breath underwater for extended periods of time has led to a series of unfortunate events that led to your captivity. The only time you get outside of your cell is as a worker at the aquatic theme park where you are trapped. You had resigned to your bleak life until one night, the newly hired, attractive lifeguard, Grayson Dolan, falls into your tank as a result of a prank. Saving his life could be the start to saving yours.

A/N: This is probably the most unique thing I’ve written on this blog because it’s a sci-fi AU. You know how a lot of original content being a former fan fiction (ie. 50 Shades originally being a Twilight fic)...this is the opposite haha. Where this is an original concept that I made a fanfic using the twins since they are my current muses. Sooo....definitely let me know what you think!

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, loss of parents, captivity, and bullying. There is also lots of fluff and teenage romance!

If darkness had a temperature it would be cold. That’s what you decided after five years in the cell. It didn’t matter that the water was always kept at 67 degrees Fahrenheit, the optimal temperature for your survival, it always felt cold. In the ocean, the vibrations kept you warm. The sounds of a whale calling to it’s lover, dolphins whispering hello, and sharks chewing their prey all prickled your skin in tiny waves. You didn’t get that in your cell, because it was just you all alone until morning. Then the cover would be lifted and you could embrace the world.

If freedom had a temperature it would be warm. It would be sunshine of a cloudy summer’s day or the cotton candy machine churning out treats for a long line of toddlers. It would the smell of butter popcorn and the snug fit of a new promotional cap. While your world was small, you savored the seconds of your warmth outside of the cell. You knew your days of warmth would continue to decrease as you got older and you wanted to cherish it. This was your so-called youth that you overheard your audience joke about in between performances. Youth, the thing that you knew you possessed, and the one thing that was being taken away from you in order to provide it to another. Youth, the phrase that you understood in concept, but not what it showed in practice.

Until he fell into your cell.

It was what started it all. His kindness and curiosity launched you into a journey of discovering what it meant to be young. What it meant to live for today and tomorrow, making mistakes, learning from them, and making new ones. Falling in love. And ultimately, breaking out of your cell.

You were sleeping when it happened. You learned to find comfort in the dark. You would sink to the bottom and roll yourself into a ball. The entire side of your body would lay on the smooth, cold floor. As you rocked yourself to create small waves in the water, that always felt heavier at the bottom, you would fall asleep. You equated it to “tossing and turning” in a bed, a feeling you had not experienced since your confinement.

The moment his body hit the water, you felt it through all of your nerves. It was like an electric shock. Your eyes opened, despite not being able to see anything, but your skin told you everything you needed to know. Your legs fluttered behind you as you glided toward your target. It almost seemed insulting to call it swimming as your technique was so graceful that it looked like a dance.

At first, you didn’t know what it was.

The creature in your cell was about 5 feet and 11 inches in length, 180 pounds, and terrified. It was thrashing around, causing more waves in the water and alerting you of its presence. Your hands reached out and touched what you could identify was the middle of it’s back. It was covered in a jean jacket, that felt tattered even in the water. It was at that moment that you realized it was a person and one that didn’t want to be here.

You knew it wasn’t a threat. Most threats came in the form of scientific experiments. These tests were accompanied by a bright white light and white lab coats and shades staring at you almost in the nude. They wanted you to feel scared and powerless, so they would never sneak up on you in your own terrain.

Your touch obviously scared the person more, and with a gasp, you felt the last bubbles of breath leave their lips. Now terrified, you pushed the person towards the top of your cell. You figured there had to be a break in it somewhere if someone fell in. As you neared the top, you heard the sounds of distant laughter and footsteps. You knew the sounds of mockery when you heard it. It sent a chill up your spine, and a bit of anger burned in your heart. Why did people always have to hurt others? You saw a bit of light towards one of the edges of your cell and you pushed the person toward it. With a few hefty pushes, you finally got the person over the edge. You continued to push and push until the person was laying on ground beside your cell.

You poked your head through the hole and looked around. It looked different at night than during the day. At night it looked abandoned and scary. You couldn’t see the other cells from where you stood at all, despite knowing that the dolphins were one over and the hammerheads were on the other side. Your eyes narrowed in on the person as they got used to the darkness.

Your brows furrowed as you recognized him. His usually styled dark brown hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, his full brows relaxed, his hazel eyes shut close, his sloped nose twitching as he sucked in air and his full pink lips stuck shut. Grayson was quite popular since his arrival. All the girls liked him and all the boys envied him. To assert their status, some of the guys started picking on him. They would point out that he only wore old clothes and knock offs, and that his mother did all his hair cuts at 18. It seemed as though their latest stunt was tossing him into your cell.

They didn’t know what was in here. This area had been closed off, but it was easy for workers here to get to if you knew how. The cover didn’t allow people to see inside, especially not at night, and during the day, it was too risky to come up here without getting caught. You often heard people whispering above you, but no one ever broke in. You assumed it was neighborhood kids daring each other and backing out of it the moment it got too real. Most likely, Grayson didn’t know the rumors about the “dangerous creature” that lurked the last cell. He probably tried to look cool and pretend to go into the cell. They probably pushed him.

You rested you cheek on your arm which was resting on top of the tank. He really was handsome. Tomorrow, this damage to your cell would be repaired. You wouldn’t be able to exit it on your own. Part of you wanted to take your freedom and do something great with it. Runaway and save yourself from this hell hole.

Instead, you watched the breath finally enter through his lips and the rise and fall of your chest. You told yourself you wouldn’t get far. That no one els like was ever able to successfully blend in and you were the last person to be able to assimilate into society. But this, watching him, was something you could do.

You reached a hand out to touch his arm and then move to his shoulder and then to his cheek. His eyes fluttered open and you retracted immediately. Those hazel eyes squinted at you past his long lashes.

“Angel…” He whispered. He coughed, water coming out of his mouth as he turned on his side.

He may have said more, but you retreated to the bottom of your cell. You curled into your ball and rocked yourself as fast as you could. You tried to forget and fall asleep. You tried to pretend that tomorrow would be another day and you wouldn’t have to suffer the punishment…

Surprisingly, it was a normal day the next day. At sunrise, the glass top of your cell slowly rolled back, allowing the light to slowly seep through. You floated upward with trepidation, worried that there was danger waiting for you at the top. However, as usual there was nothing. You stepped out on to the roof and looked out over the town.

The houses looked like little dots next to the long spiraling streets and highways. You could see cars slowly moving in bumper to bumper traffic, and the specks of people leaving their homes. You wondered, like you always do if you looked like a speck too. You walked to your clothing station, waving at the dolphins as you walked by their cell. You hummed so they knew you were near.

Doris, the eldest dolphin, waved her left fin and then flipped around to twitch her tail fin twice to the right. You sighed and nodded understanding her message. One of the youngest dolphins was still having trouble sleeping. It was “rescued” from one of the fishing traps in the sea and was still adjusting to captivity.

You motioned with your hands at first creating a cover for your eyes with one hand and then letting that hand drop into a fist on top of your open palm. I’ll see what I can do.

You continued walking and opened the storage container. As far as other workers at the park knew, this was where they kept the cleaning supplies. Only you knew that this was where you got your clothes. As you put on your uniform, a white polo shirt and white wide leg shorts, you stared in the tiny, broken reflective piece of glass you kept there as a mirror. Your mother once told you that you couldn’t run around naked because it wasn’t polite. Yet, every night, you stripped off your clothes to your undergarments and every morning you got dressed on this roof. When you first were captured, you would hide away as you got changed. Then you realized that you were just a speck. Not just in terms of distance, but also of importance. No one would ever be curious what you looked like without your clothes.

Angel

The word popped into your head and you shook your head violently as if trying to get it out. It was the way he said it, his chest puffing up with air and then that air releasing from his mouth almost like a gasp as he looked at you with these hopeful eyes.

It didn’t matter. Grayson worked the wave pool as a lifeguard. He didn’t even work near the performance arena. Even if you did run into him, he wouldn’t recognize you. It was way too dark for him to make out your features. Still, you had to confess that the thought of him made you excited. The fantasy of him falling for you, the real you, was one that could keep your mind occupied for a long time.

You put on your socks and your shoes, your skin always drying quickly. Your hair took a few minutes longer, but you put the cap on anyway.

Pete’s Ocean Land.

To some people it was an affordable, local Sea World that saved aquatic creatures from the beach a couple miles away. For you and the other aquatic creatures here, it was a prison. At least you got the chance to leave, because of what you were. The dolphins, sharks, seals...none of them had the ability to just stand on their legs and play human. That’s why you did your best to help them. Making sure they had good food, alerting when they were sick, and keeping them company when you could. It was easier since they understood you.

You had inside jokes. For example, your main job at Pete’s Ocean Land was as one of the lead dolphin performance instructors. Prior to your arrival, they couldn’t get the dolphins to perform any tricks, but you were able to convince them to do it. While you yelled out commands to the crowd, in reality, you were signing the moves to them. The dolphins would often sign back rude or unseemly comments that made you stifle your laughter. Sometimes, they would even ask you who they should splash and you always chose someone who was ruining the event for someone else.

The best part was, the language was a secret. No one knew about it, not even your captors. It allowed you all to speak freely and have a bit of community. You didn’t know the origin of the language, but it was one your mother taught you back then. You always assumed it was the language of her people.

Your mother. Your father. The images of your parents brought both happy and sorrowful memories for you. Your father was human, but your mother was...whatever you were. It wasn’t quite clear. Mermaid sounded a bit far reaching as you didn’t have a fin or gills. If you had to describe your activity under water, it was holding your breath under water for long periods of time and gracefully swimming. Essentially, you were an amphibian. On the outside, however, you appeared like a completely normal 18 year old girl. That was how you were raised until you were 13 years old. Your parents died in a mysterious fire and on the way to the police station to get you up for adoption, you were told that your uncle would take you in.

Your uncle, aka Pete, was your dad’s eldest brother. Apparently, your uncle had tried to persuade your father to put you and your mother in his little exhibit for years, but your father refused. With him out the way, he now could do whatever he wanted with you. He told people he put you in the best boarding school, but in reality, you were locked away in one of the old tanks at the park. You called it a cell, but you knew what it was...it was a tank just like the other animals.

At 13, you ability to breathe under water wasn’t that strong, but Pete trained you. If you could call it that. Locking in that cell until you clawed at the glass for help. He would invite scientists who would push and prod you without a warning, and often with out anything on. You felt disgusting and less than human...thus leading you to feel like you were.

In the five years you lived in captivity, the only hope you had was your job. The occasional little girl that said she wanted your job when she grew up, or listening in on what was hip these days as teenagers conversed in the cafeteria, gave you the will to keep pushing forward.

You considered yourself lucky that Grayson had scurried off and was not found by any of the personnel. It allowed you to keep up appearances.

“Aurora?” You heard a voice ask behind you.

That was your name at the park. Obviously, your uncle couldn’t let you just walk around using your real name when you were supposed to be away. To emphasize your difference more, your hair was frequently dyed bright red. You hated it because when it was freshly dyed it would taint the water in your cell and your uncle wouldn’t bother to change it for days.

“Yes?” You said closing the cabinet. You expected it to be one of the workers here to feed the animals. Whoever they were, they were early.

Your eyes widened when you turned around to see Grayson standing there. He looked different in the light. His skin was so tanned, the muscles in his arms bulging under his white polo shirt. His white shorts hit him different at the waist, like he was a model or something. His hair was styled up in the front and he was cleanly shaven. His eyes, twinkling hazel eyes that looked green in this light, stared at you brightly.

“It was you! You’re the person that saved me!” He yelled.

You dashed forward, your eyes darkening in a way that Grayson had not seen anyone’s eyes change before.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said in your sternness voice “But do not come here and yell at this time of the morning. The hammerheads are still sleeping and they get restless.”

Grayson’s jaw dropped. He let out a soft laugh that faded into a smile.

“I heard you were serious about this, but I guess I didn’t realize how serious.” Grayson put a hand on his chest and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I won’t wake them. I just, I can’t believe it’s you. Last night…”

“What are you talking about?” You asked him frowning.

Your uncle taught you how to deflect any weird questions and it was always by gaslighting. Did you really see that? Are you sure I said that? He taught you threw practice and it hurt you to cause Grayson the same pain that you endured.

Seeing Grayson’s eyes saddened only made it worse.

“Please,” Grayson whispered. “I don’t know how you were able to save me, but you are my guardian angel. I can’t thank you enough.”

“I-I…” You stammered as you stepped away. How could you deny something so sweet?

“Be honest…” Grayson asked. “Is it just an empty tank?”

Your eyes widened. Could this be the silver lining?

“Yeah…” You nodded, walking him over to your cell. It was the first time you ever looked at it from this angle. It looked so big, but down there, it felt so small.

“Whew…” Grayson said with a smile. “I didn’t really buy that it was a monster or anything...but can’t say I’m not glad.”

“No monster down there.” You said, bitterly. “The monster is up here walking around in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a silence. Grayson looked at you, strangely. You wanted to curl into your little ball. You almost settled for the next best thing, running away, when his laughter stopped you.

“You’re so edgy, I love it.” Grayson grinned.

You forced a laugh. “Ha, yes, edgy.” You didn’t really know what that meant, but you would figure it out eventually.

Grayson looked nervous and he glanced away from you. You also took the opportunity to look at the sun. You didn’t have a watch, but from the sun you could tell your shift was starting soon. You needed to prep the performance arena area. You motioned to leave when Grayson stopped you by grabbing your wrist. His skin was so warm now. It was warmth of the sun on the cloudy day, of the cotton candy machine, of butter popcorn...it was that warmth.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” He blurted out. “I-I can invite my brother and his girlfriend if that would make you feel more comfortable for a first date.”

You shook your head. “Dinner? Date? Oh no, I can’t do that.”

You couldn’t leave the premises. Even if you wanted to, you didn’t have anything else to wear. He would know that something was wrong when you came in your uniform, soaking wet.

“How old are you?” He asked. “Are your parents strict?”

“18...and sorta.” Your real parents were not strict at all, but your captor was a demon.

“Hm,” Grayson rubbed his chin with his right hand. “What about lunch at the cafeteria?”

You ate there anyway. There were no rules about you eating with coworkers. You were just so weird, no one wanted to talk to you.

“Okay.” You nodded.

His face lit up with the brightest smile you had ever seen. You felt like your heart had been wrenched. You felt your face get hot and you looked away.

“See you in front of Lu’s?” He asked.

You nodded again. That was the burger joint in the cafeteria. It was where everyone ate and the line was always long. You never bothered to wait because it was lonely to stand on line by yourself. Now, you had someone to talk to while you waited.

You heard Doris making noises and you turned around. Grayson made an “aww” noise and ran over to look at her. Standing behind Grayson, you saw that Doris was signing you a question. She moved her head in a circle to the right before lifting and dropping her tail fin three times. That was an easy translation...

New mate?

“Grayson, let’s go.” You said, pulling his arm. “Doris, is just trying to rile you up.”

“I don’t mind,” Grayson said, but he still allowed you to pull him, liking the way it felt to be held by you.

Behind your back, your crossed your index and middle finger before pulling your crossed fingers in a straight line toward the right.

Shut up.

You heard Doris make another sound as you both exited the roof area that you easily recognized as her laughter.

By lunch time, you stood by the cafeteria with your head down. The cafeteria was really just an outdoor food court with an awning made of cement covering each of the restaurants and a seating area. It had archways all around that allowed people to enter from all side. It was painted a pee yellow color that you hated, but you weren’t sure if it was only because you hated this place.

With your (terribly) dyed red hair, people often stared at you. When people tried to talk to you and realized that your vernacular and knowledge of the world was trapped to five years ago, you were seen as some kind of freak. Once enough people realized you were weirdo, the bullying began. They would make fun of you, sometimes pretending to be your friend only to humiliate you. They would throw food at you. The worst was just the laughing. It felt like everyone who laughed just laughed at you.

“Hey Rory!” Grayson said.

You looked up to see him waving at you theatrically. You pointed to yourself and he nodded with his laugh. His laugh didn’t feel like daggers. It felt comforting.

“Yes, you.” Grayson laughed. “I wanted to give you a nickname and I think Rory is kind of cute. You can call me Gray.”

“Okay, Gray.” You felt a tingle of happiness. You hadn’t had a friend or a nickname in so long, you forgot what it was like.

“Shall we?” He asked, gesturing to the long line, and you nodded.

As you stood in line, you sucked in a deep breath. All eyes were on you and you felt your entire body tense up. You stared at the ground and said nothing as the line slowly inched forward. Grayson cleared his throat and if you had looked at his face, you would have noticed his bashful expression.

“So, besides saving stupid lifeguards, what do you do in your free time?” You looked up to meet his eyes and saw his shining, pearly white smile.

Your eyes darted to the people around you, but this time you realized that it was not YOU they were staring, it was HIM. Suddenly, you realized that people didn’t even see you around him because he was so gorgeous. For some reason, this emboldened you to raise your head, just a little.

“Uh, I don’t really do much outside of work.” You said, trying to seem normal. “I actually really like working with the animals.”

“Oh I see. Do you want to be a marine biologist or something?” Grayson asked. “I think you would be good at it.”

“I don’t know.” You bit your lip. “I’m kinda known for being dumb.”

Grayson’s brows furrowed and you worried you somehow offended him.

“What do you mean?” Grayson asked. “I see you rattle of facts about every species in this place every day, answering the wildest questions with grace. Who is calling you stupid?”

You blushed. “Well, outside of the water, I don’t really know much.” You smiled. “I mean, Doris doesn’t know what’s happening on Facebook.”

“Wait, you don’t have social media?” Grayson asked, his eyes going wide. “Like, nothing?”

You shook your head. Grayson’s jaw remained wide for awhile and then he nodded.

“Oh right, strict parents.” He reminded himself. “So, like how do you usually date people?”

“Ha, I don’t.” You gave a soft laugh that showed your shock at the ridiculous question.

Grayson smirked a little bit. “I mean have you ever kissed anyone?”

You thought about it and you did. Before all of this, before you knew how different you really were, life was pretty alright. You had your first kiss when you were nine, and shortly before the fire you had your second kiss with a boy in your class. He said he wanted you to be his girlfriend, but he wanted you to think about your answer. It was over a vacation break, so you had quite a bit of time. It was an easy decision, you were going to say yes. You just never got a chance to tell him.

“I have, when I was younger.” You glanced at him. “You?’

“Uh yeah, a few times.” Grayson looked away. If you hadn’t kissed that many people, there was no way he was going to list his previous rendezvous.

“What do you do outside of work?” You asked, wanting to learn more about him.

“Typical stuff I guess. I surf, skateboard, hike…” He continued to list outdoor activities that you remembered partaking in or hearing of during your childhood, but it all seemed distant now.

“You’re really active, huh?” You remarked.

“I like it!” Grayson jokingly flexed his muscle. “I like to stay fit. Do you exercise?”

“Uh, I swim.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Ha, no kidding!” Grayson joked. “A little embarrassing to be saved as a lifeguard.”

You smiled. Before you could respond, you realized you were at the front of the line. It felt like a couple seconds with Grayson. Time just flew with him which usually only happened during your performances. The rest of you life was counting the moments until it was over. You almost wished you could relish in this a bit more.

“Can I get the beyond burger, with the vegan cheese fries?” Grayson ordered. He smiled at you. “What would you like? It’s on me.”

“What’s the beyond burger?” You asked, tapping your chin. You usually went to the less frequented pasta place and got their pasta of the day. You would split it for dinner, learning over the years that no one would feed you if you didn’t do it yourself.

“It’s a meat substitute.” Grayson explained. “I’m vegan, so…”

Grayson was getting embarrassed. Being vegan wasn’t super popular in your area. When he first starting working at Pete’s Ocean Land, the other boys ridiculed him for it, claiming there was no way he could have six pack without eating meat. He soon learned it wasn’t worth arguing and just stopped talking about it. It felt weird to have this conversation again and he didn’t want you to judge him.

“I’ll try it too.” You said to the person ringing up the order.

Grayson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Alright, well let’s throw in some vegan shakes too.”

The person nodded and gave the total. Grayson put it on his employee card and took the receipt. You waited on the pick up line, rocking back and forth on your heels. Conversation was so difficult for you, but you worried he would ask you more questions if you didn’t beat him to it.

“What do you want to do? Is it your dream to be a lifeguard?” You asked.

Grayson laughed, shaking his head. “No. In my dream world, I would be a pro surfer, but right now, I could settle for being a diving instructor at some fancy resort.”

“You must really like the ocean then.” You deduced, a bit of hope in your voice.

“Yeah, I mean obviously I care about animals since I’m vegan. But, ocean animals are like so cool. It’s a whole ‘nother thing seeing them in their natural habitat and not in tanks.” Grayson paused and his voice drops into a whisper. He leans in to your ear “Like don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Pete rescues these animals, but you never see him put them back. They just stay here forever. How sad.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you felt his hot breath on your skin. It didn’t help that it felt like he was talking about you. You would also have to stay here forever. How sad.

“I wish we could set them all free.” You said in a low voice.

Grayson smiled. He was staring at you with a soft sweet smile that made your heart loop-di-loop. “Yeah me too.”

The number on top of your receipt was called and Grayson went to retrieve your food. You looked around the seating area for an empty space, chewing on your lip nervously. You also hated looking for a seat, this where people would usually try to tease you or throw stuff at you.

“Come on, let me show you my secret spot.” Grayson was holding your food in to-go paper bags, a move you hadn’t noticed until now.

You follow him out of the cafeteria and around the corner. There were some stairs that were blocked off, but Grayson ducked under the barrier with ease and confidence. You followed his lead and walked up the steps to the top floor. It was the roof of the cafeteria and there were tables with benches attached scattered around. There was an umbrella on a few of the tables and Grayson chose one to sit under. You guessed that people were once able to eat up here, but it was closed down for some reason.

“Nice and quiet.” Grayson remarked.

You sat down on the bench just as a cool breeze tickled you skin. You didn’t feel like you were in your prison. In this moment, you felt like you were on a real date. With a very handsome guy who treated you to lunch and wanted to get to know you. It was your first dose of normalcy in a very long time.

Grayson separated your meals, tearing the bag to use it as two plates. You unwrapped your burger and inspected a bit before taking a bite. Grayson was pretending not to stare at you, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to see your reaction. Your eyes lit up.

“It’s delicious!” You said, covering your mouth as it was still full. “I haven’t had a burger in a long time, but this tastes amazing.”

Grayson grinned. “I’m glad you like it.”

You continued to devour your burger and Grayson watched as he fought back laughter. He finally started to eat as well, but he would take bites without much thought, focusing mostly on you.

“Try the fries too.” Grayson suggested, pointing at your fries.

You nodded, shifting what was left of your burger to one hand and grabbing your a fry with your now freed hand. Your eyes widened.

“This taste better than the cheesy pasta at Marco’s!” You remarked making Grayson laugh.

“As a mix of Italian and Irish, I can confirm that Marco’s may not be the best judge of cheese.” Grayson gave a bright grin. “But it’s really a cheese substitute sauce that add more seasoning to take compensate for the different flavor.”

“It’s amazing…” You gushed, eating more fries.

As you polished off your food, you couldn’t help but wish you had saved some for later. It would have been nice to enjoy this for dinner instead of as one meal. At the same time, something told you that it wouldn’t taste as good cold. You hoped it would hold you over through the night.

“I love a girl who can eat.” Grayson said, sitting in front of his empty food wrappers. “You almost gave me a run for the money.”

You gave him an embarrassed smile. Your mother always criticized you for eating too quickly. It would give you gas and cause uncomfortable bloating. It had been so long that you had eaten something that you truly enjoyed that made you revert to your old habits.

“It’s not good for you.” You said, echoing our mom’s words. Your eyes danced over to the milkshake, and your mother’s lecture was out of your mind. You reached for it and took a sip.

“This is amazing!” You said, sucking it down faster.

“You say that a lot.” Grayson teased, taking tiny sips of his milkshake. “They are sweeter than real milkshakes to make up for the lack of fat, but I think this is made with oat milk.”

“I really like it.” You said, taking a breath of air. “I want to eat more vegan food.”

Grayson grinned. “There aren’t many vegan options here, but there’s plenty outside the park. If you’re down, we can have a picnic or something after work.”

You face saddened and you shook your head. “I really can’t.”

“Where do you live?” Grayson asked. “I am pretty good with parents. Maybe if they meet me…”

You thought about your parents. They would have loved Grayson. He was sweet, polite, well-mannered and had a great sense of humor. Your father would have probably tried to come off as intimidating, but then he would warm up within seconds telling embarrassing jokes. Your mother would have made some iced tea or something and offer some of her homemade shortbread biscuits. Tears stung your eyes and you blinked quickly to shove them back.

“No.” You shook your head again. “It wouldn’t work.”

Grayson pursed his lips. “Can I call you? What about walking you home from work?”

You shook your head sadly to both questions making Grayson sigh. With slumped shoulders he announced why he was pushing you so much.

“Rory, my shift starts in 20 minutes. I can’t wait until tomorrow to see again. I just want to spend more time with you.” Grayson leaned forward. “I mean don’t you feel the connection between us?”

You blushed. Of course you did, but not because you “saved his life.” For the first time, you were just you. You weren’t some freak being tested and experimented on. For so long, your human status had been ripped from you and allowed you to be treated like garbage. But Grayson saw all animals equally and it made you believe that he would be able to accept you too.

“I do.” You said, finally. “But, I think we should take our time.”

Grayson nodded. “Alright. That’s completely fair.” He laughed nervously. “My brother always says I fall hard way too quickly.”

You smiled. Your friends used to say that about you too. “Tell me more about your brother…”

You and Grayson talked for fifteen more minutes about your childhood and old memories. It was easy to blend in with Grayson since he enjoyed reminiscing. He didn’t ask you about current events or quiz you on gossip. Talking with Grayson was easy and your mouth got dry from speaking and laughing. Most of your interactions were with the other aquatic captives and that was all signing. You hadn’t heard yourself say things outside of the performance script in so long, you forgot that you had opinions and interests.

In the five minutes before Grayson’s shift, you cleaned up and took your trash downstairs to dispose of it. Grayson reached into hug you and you tensed up a bit.

“Sorry, I smell like chlorine.” You apologized.

Grayson laughed. “Don’t we all?”

He hugged you tightly and you realized he was a liar. He didn’t smell like chlorine at all, but of the most refreshing floral scent you had ever encountered. It was almost like the smell of freshly washed linen being fluffed on a bed. So comforting. He waved to you and ran off to the wave pool. You watched him run away before going to feed the dolphins.

#dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan fic #dolan twins fic #grayson dolan fluff #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins fluff #fic-cw #r-writes-fic

59 notes · View notes

lanaisnotwool · 4 years ago

Video

youtube

422 Get a College Education for FREE - Interview with Grant Aldrich

https://moneyripples.com/2020/09/15/422-get-a-college-education-for-free-interview-with-grant-aldrich/

Is it possible to get a college education for FREE?

Grant Aldrich is on a mission to make college more affordable and accessible for everyone.

http://OnlineDegree.com has now become a leading educational platform to help millions of people go back to school who’ve been unable to take that first critical step.

Grant firmly believes in the benefits of utilizing open source or Open Educational Resources (OER) for students. By using OER in higher education, student’s costs of learning are kept to an absolute minimum.

OER has given OnlineDegree.com the ability to achieve its goal of making the offering completely free for students and sets a positive example to encourage the adoption of these materials worldwide.

Basically the mission is to make college more attainable for everyone. Learn more about this in the episode.

BLOG TALK RADIO

Chris Miles (00:05): Hello, my fellow Ripplers! This is Chris Miles. Your Cash Flow Expert and Anti-Financial Advisor. Hey guys, I’m welcoming you out for a wonderful show. A show that’s for you and about you. Those of you that work so freaking hard for your money, and you’re ready for your money to start working harder for you. Today! You want that freedom. That cash flow. That prosperity. Right now! Not 30 or 40 bazillion years from now, but today. So you have that life that you love. To be able to do what you love. To be with those that you love. But on top of that, it’s just not about prosper yourself, right? It’s much, much deeper than that because as you become financially prosperous, you can create your own ripple effect through people’s lives. You can be a blessing in the lives of others. And that is the world I’m here to create. So thank you so much for allowing me to create a ripple effect through you with this show.

Chris Miles (00:50): And, and of course, thank you guys for also keeping that ripple effect going. Cause you guys keep sharing. You keep bingeing and everything else. So thank you so much for joining us today. You guys are a big part of this I couldn’t do without you. Hey, as a reminder, check out our website, MoneyRipples.com There is an ebook, Beyond Rice and Beans, Seven Secrets to Free Up Cash Today. That you can download for free. And by the way, it’s like a whopping 28 pages because I put page breaks in it. So it’s like a 15 minute read. Great stuff in there, but you also check out on our blogs. There’s actually some of our YouTube videos that are up now of this very show. So if you actually want to watch the show, you can actually start watch on YouTube as well. So check it out.

Chris Miles (01:29): Alright! So today I’ve got a special guest and you know, I keep finding some interesting people and this is definitely no exception. You know, this was somebody who reached out and said, Hey, you gotta have Grant Aldrich on your show because you know, it’s funny, my wife had actually even brought up about, you know, doing online degrees, but even like having ways to have it paid for. And I thought that was intriguing. And within the same week that she said that someone says, Hey, you need to have Grant on your show. So that’s what I got. Guys. I have grant here with us and just to let you know, grant actually runs a company OnlineDegree.com and now he founded this one. It was a real purpose driven mission, right? The mission is this, to make college more accessible and affordable for everyone.

Chris Miles (02:13): Now, after graduating college with an overwhelming amount of debt. Grant was actually determined to change how students embark on their college education. He has spent his entire career working at startups with nearly 15 years of experience and two prior exits to a publicly traded company. He’s also been a board member and donor to a number of non-profits and advisor to many public traded companies and a guest speaker at seminars and graduate school courses. And today, well, especially when I bring him on and say, all right, whether you’re someone you’ve got kids or whether it’s yourself and you’re thinking about going and get your degree again, how can you do it in a way where you don’t have to go to pay millions of dollars to make crappy amounts of money? And so that’s why we have a Grant here on our show today. So grant welcome!

Grant Aldrich (02:54): Hey, Chris! Thanks for having me!

Chris Miles (02:55): Absolutely, man. So tell us about your story and what inspired this. Like you mentioned that you went through a lot of debt, right? You know, tell us more about that.

Grant Aldrich (03:03): Yeah. I left college with just an immense amount of debt and I seemingly made all of the right choices. So I took a traditional path. Graduated high school. Went to the best school I could get to. And I even came in with AP courses and all kinds of things that had me graduate as a sophomore. So I had a year already finished and I still graduated with just a ton of debt. And that left a real mark on me for many years because I didn’t pay it off until my late twenties. And I was in a position recently where I had exited my last company and I really was sitting around trying to figure out, what do I want to do to make a big difference and enjoy my work far more than I had before?

Grant Aldrich (03:50): And I just kept coming to higher Ed. My parents were teachers and a bad taste in my mouth that had been sitting there for so long and everything just kind of came together to try to make higher education, more affordable, more accessible.

Chris Miles (04:04): Yeah. How did that even come to be for you guys?

Grant Aldrich (04:08): You know, this was definitely a meandering approach. I just started with the mission. And I think that’s a really cool thing to do as an entrepreneur. You just start with a mission. I want to make college affordable and accessible. And I didn’t know how we were going to do it. It was definitely something I stumbled upon and tried to figure out. And finally, we came to, we’re going to create a modern alternative to the community college. And so people can come on the platform. Get started in 60 seconds. Take as many college level courses as they’d like. Earn credit towards their degree at universities across the country. We do it all for free.

Chris Miles (04:44): Now, how is that possible?

Grant Aldrich (04:45): It was just to kind of complete it. Not only do we provide all this for free, we provide support services. We organize discounts for our students on their behalf. So for example, you come in, take a bunch of units that can lower the cost of your degree, but then we go above and beyond that and get the universities to give you another discount. So you may get 10%, 20% off the cost of your degree just from coming through our program. And so to answer your question, how do we do it, you kind of have to look into the dynamic of how the system works. So the benefit for the student is probably obvious, right? I’ve got, instead of just making this big leap to go back in getting your degree, paying full price and having to just figure it out on the go, we provide an option to wait in the pool where you could save a bunch of money sometimes up to 30% 40% of your degree.

Grant Aldrich (05:34): And to give it a kind of, you know, kick the tires a bit, see what classes are of interest, you know, get used to learning in an online format. Prove you’ve got the time management, all that. That benefits probably obvious. What people don’t realize, it’s an immense benefit for the universities as well. So for the universities, it’s a little known fact that they are desperate for good students. And when I say good, I mean, students who will finish their program. Who are prepared when they show up. Who don’t need a lot of orientation programs on how to learn online and how to make sure they work courses into their daily life. It’s really valuable. So inherently when you’re going through progressing through the courses, you’re making yourself a better student. So the entire platform is sponsored by the universities to make it a true win-win for the student and the school.

Chris Miles (06:26): Interesting. Yeah. I can see when they’re college, that’s a big deal. Especially if they want that, the impressive numbers show that people actually graduate and finishing complete. Right? Versus, you know, it’s like, you know, University of Hawaii, where people used to go on vacation, then drop out. You know.

Grant Aldrich (06:41): Yeah. I wish we all could go to University of Hawaii and just skip class all day.

Chris Miles (06:45): That’s the one place you won’t go to do online education.

Grant Aldrich (06:48): No! Definitely not! Yeah. More like, you know, upstate New York where it’s nice and cold. Right? But yeah. So the whole process, getting people back to school and doing it this way has just been really successful. It’s just really worked because it’s really created a whole new paradigm.

Chris Miles (07:05): Yeah. And who funds this? Like how is this funded?

Grant Aldrich (07:08): All by the university partnerships. So, you know, when I first started, I looked at doing a non-profit. And the problem is, is that, there’s actually a lot of rules on how non-profits were able to generate revenue. And so I didn’t want a system where we would be, couldn’t do tuition. Right? I wanted no tuition. That was a key thing. And I didn’t want to be dependent upon donations. And so if you’re non-profit, you take revenue in certain ways you can lose your non-profit status. So I decided, Nope, we’re just going to keep it. We’re a benefit Corp. And we’re going to make it funded completely by the universities.

Chris Miles (07:41): Great! And now, I know what you have as a tagline says, The First Years For Free. Is it just the first year or is it the entire college experience? And how does that work?

Grant Aldrich (07:50): It could actually be more than the first year. You know, we’ve tried, because we’re a new concept and it’s a little different. And you know, I made that comparison to a community college, which is something everybody knows. But we are different because you know, when you come on our platform, you could take one course. You could take all 15 that we offer. And you could then still get the discount on different schools. So it’s far more flexible than a community college. In terms of that flexibility, you don’t have to go to class. It’s all online at your own pace. So the goal was to make something where I looked at the community college systems thing. This is a very rigid system. What if I don’t want to get my full associates degree? What if I just want to get a little bit, save, and then go to the right school of my choosing? Or what if I want something that’s more accessible from my heavy work life and my family life and all these things. So really that’s what I tried to design a better system for. And so, yeah, I mean, anybody can come in, they can take one class or you can save up as much as 40% on your degree, depending on the school you go to. And the discounts that we have.

Chris Miles (08:52): Wow! That’s incredible! Well, like you said, it’s great that people have working schedule if they already have their own business or they’re already going, you know, they’re working all the time. Like they don’t want to spend a lot of time. They want to be able to do at their own pace and that sort of thing. Right? It sounds like you’ve definitely provided a solution for that.

Grant Aldrich (09:07): That’s it. This is built for the working adults. So something people don’t realize is that working adults have become the real students in higher education. Not the 18 year old. And there’s an estimated 35 to 40 million of those adults who are not taking that first step. So I really tried to create a solution that just met all the impediments that were stopping people from getting started. And yeah, you’re right. One of them is that, Hey, we’re busy. Adults are busy. We’ve got kids, got jobs, you’ve got responsibilities. We can’t leave all of that three times a week to go to class in the middle of the day. Not conducive for what we’re doing. It’s gotta be 30 minutes while we’re cooking dinner. 30 minutes on the couch at night. That has to be conducive to that learning environment. And then of course the cost. If you’re not 18 years old, you can’t amortize the cost of a degree over your lifetime like you can when you’re young. We’re thirties, forties, we have to be able to get an affordable degree that will actually help us get a better career. That’s not going to break the bank. And so I think really what we’ve done too, is balanced the ROI of getting a degree now. And the cost.

Chris Miles (10:13): Right! Exactly! And that’s been one of my biggest hangups with school, right? Cause I dropped out of college with what, not even a class. It was a project, one project away from getting my bachelor’s. Right? And then I decided to go into being an entrepreneur just to gain that experience that was going to go to the business consulting. So I was going to finish my MBA. And by after I went to the business, I said, well, what the heck? These degrees seem worthless, you know. In comparison to how much time and money I have to put into this, versus I can just go out and make money no. You know, as an entrepreneur. And that definitely was more enticing. And this kind of seems like it’s a good hybrid between the two. It’s like saying, Hey, do I want to get the ROI? Plus the time I have to put, by the way, I did try to actually go and finish my degree. Five years later. And they said, all right, great, well, you just have to take another semester and a half of full time credits. Cause it had been over five years. I said, well, forget that, you know, there’s no reason I should get a sociology degree and have to spend a year and a half going full time to school when I was already retired, you know? So, Oh yeah. Make logical sense at that point, right?

Grant Aldrich (11:17): Oh yeah. Well, you know, the other problem is, Is that so many schools out there are not adult friendly, which is what you’re kind of touching on. And so the other thing that we’ve done is we’ve tried to only partner with schools that are adult friendly. And so to that point, you know, what does adult friendly mean? These are schools that aren’t going to give you a lot of sweat for being five years out of the classroom. They look past that. They’re far more accommodating to the modern adult or working adult. And so they view a lot more support for working adults. The classes are online. The restaurant pays, you know, all those things that help and not give you the experience that you had. But you’re right, you know, for a bigger perspective, not everybody needs to get a degree. Some careers, you should have it because you had the edge for your job and you can get that big promotion.

Grant Aldrich (12:01): Or if it’s a necessity. Like if I want to be a teacher. But for you and I, you know, we’re both entrepreneurs. What’s great is that what we’ve now branched out to is into certifications. And so in addition to degrees, we offer discounted certifications with credit universities that are better than anything else out there. Where, let’s say you want to be a bookkeeper. Well, you can get a certification with a certificate from the university, for your clients in book keeping with Quick Books and all of this. To basically just prepare you for a career as being your own boss. So that way, you know, you’ve got something. You don’t have to be a CPA. You’ve got something. When you go into that room, when you’re pitching your new clients, you know, I’m certified by University of X and it looks really good. So I’m glad we’ve really added that. So I think it’s complimented the situations that you’re talking about, where not everybody needs a degree.

Chris Miles (12:50): Right. That’s true. Now you mentioned, of course it’s perfect for the working adult. What about for those that are the typical young adult college age? You know, is this a good fit for them? Cause I know again, a ton of people that will say, how do I pay for college? How do I save for college, all this kind of stuff. And so I guarantee you there’s many, many listeners saying, all right, I may not need a degree, but what about my kids?

Grant Aldrich (13:12): Yeah. You know, it is. Although it hasn’t been open for them. I’ll explain why. When we first got started, I had the working adult in mind. So we purposely excluded it to anybody who was under 18 or any international students. And my logic was, was that I wanted to make sure we came out of the gate for our first MVP product, that we had a really good experience for that core demographic. And since then it’s just exploded. And so now we’re going back and saying, okay, we can expand now and go into high school students international because we get so many students knocking on the door saying we want it. In fact, for every one adult now that we have in, three knock on the door that we turn away who are either international or under 18. And so it’s a big problem. Yeah. So we’re working on now working out the intricacies of now opening up the platform for all those people. It’s not ready yet. Soon!

Chris Miles (14:07): Soon. So if they got somebody who’s in their mid teens, this is probably the perfect time.

Grant Aldrich (14:12): Yeah! So I would say, you know, check back maybe after the summer. We’ll be good to go.

Chris Miles (14:16): Okay. That’s pretty soon.

Grant Aldrich (14:17): Yeah, yeah, yeah. Very actively working on it.

Chris Miles (14:19): That’s great! Awesome! Well this is fantastic! I know it’s a, just like incredible niche, you know, that just to see that that’s even available and even possible for people to even get, you know, the ability to even take some courses and essential, not only have they come out of pocket initially. Right? I think that’s just incredible. So if people want to learn more about it, where should they go?

Grant Aldrich (14:40): Well, Chris, thank you man! And you know, it really is trying to just spread the word about it that, you know, in addition to what we do, there are a bunch of other little known secrets on how you can save college. You know, cause I think so many people fall into the trap where they just go in the front door and they just accept the fact, that’s it got to pay full time tuition. And the only ways to save previously were scholarships or community college. And both of those have tons of problems. They’re terrible options for an adult to try to do. And I can go into that later, but anyhow, yeah. So to come on, just go to OnlineDegree.com you can follow the project if it’s not something that, you know, if you’re not interested in certification or degree and we’ve got all kinds of info there on ways you can save. It’s really cool. So let’s say that would be a good one. And I’m also available on LinkedIn, you know, people want to connect.

Chris Miles (15:24): Great! Okay. We got to open it up for a few more minutes for sure. So grants or whatever you’re talking about right there. Like what are the non traditional ways that people might miss out on? You don’t have to give all the details, all the secrets, but just give us a few.

Grant Aldrich (15:38): Yeah. You know, you almost have to look at going back to higher ed as like you’re hacking your way through. And I mean that in a good way. Yeah. Cause you’re taking pieces off the shelf from numerous destinations. So what’s kind of good by starting in our platform is that we provide a good base. So, okay. Let’s say we aggregate all the adult friendly schools. So you know, which ones are the ones that are going to treat you the way that you would assume you’d be treated, going back to school. And so you start there and then we can map out what courses you can take for free. Then we can look at what kind of discounts are available that you can take advantage of at the different institutions. And then from there, we also compliment that this is something that most people don’t know, there’s these exams you can take where it’s not like an AP exam.

Grant Aldrich (16:23): It’s not as hard as that is, but they’re all about subject matter expertise where you can test out of a course. And so you can take, instead of taking, let’s say a full semester, long class on, you know, we can make this up, but history one. You can take, we have a history course. So this isn’t exactly the same. You can knock it out with our history course. But to give the example, you could take a prep course, right online, just short term. Take this exam and then remove the requirement when you come to school. So little techniques like this, just chip away at the amount of units you have to take at the actual university. Cause at the end of the day, you have to get, let’s say 120 units to get your bachelor’s degree at a college. And each course is three, four units, et cetera. The more that you can finish for free or at a discount rather than paying full price for tuition at that school, the better.

Chris Miles (17:13): That’s true. I remember, cause I lived for two years in Japan during my college years. Right? So I came back my sophomore year of college and they said, Hey, you can test out of this. And so I essentially got like 16 language arts credits. You know, for no charge. I was just able to get that knocked out. Right. And you know, kind of accelerate a little bit to the bachelors. I still had to take a bunch of more courses, but at least I was able to say, all right, well that’s off the list now. I’ve got plenty of, almost had too many credits by the time I was getting my bachelors, you know?

Grant Aldrich (17:43): That’s fantastic! Yeah. That’s a good example actually. Right. You know, you don’t take a language class if you’re comfortable enough with the language. You could test out of it. Yeah. Great example.

Chris Miles (17:51): Yeah. Awesome! Well, great! So again, everybody check out OnlineDegree.com you know, just, yeah. If that’s something that either for yourself or for someone you know, check it out. See what resources are available. Reach out to them and see if that’s something that’s a fit for you and something that could actually be the very thing you’ve been looking for. So Grant, I really appreciate your time today. It’s been awesome!

Grant Aldrich (18:11): Chris, thanks a lot for having me on!

Chris Miles (18:13): You bet, man. And everybody else, make it a wonderful and prosperous week and we’ll see you later.

#Chris Miles #Anti-financial Advisor #Cash flow #Cash flow Expert #Debts #Entrepreneur #Financial Freedom #Money Ripples

14 notes · View notes

stevemoffett · 4 years ago

Text

A Hard Nap, The Fall of Math, The Star Wars Holiday Special, Disco Point, and There You Are

In January last year, I noticed a sign in myself of the same cancer my dad had back in 2008. Unlike the usual symptoms that set off my paranoia, it wasn’t some vague feeling, it wasn’t an intermittent pain, and it wasn’t a general ill feeling—it was clear and unambiguous, out of the ordinary and one of those symptoms that, if you google it, is under the list of “call your doctor if you experience any of the following.”

It was also nonspecific: this symptom could mean cancer, but it could also mean about five other cancer-unrelated conditions. I called for an appointment that morning with my general practitioner, who said that the earliest available date was about two weeks later.

I knew that the only way my fear would be effectively relieved was with the one sure-fire diagnostic tool for this type of cancer, one that’s recommended for everyone, but not until about age 50: a colonoscopy.

For the two weeks before my GP appointment, I mentally prepared for death. For the record, I do this every time I interpret my body’s signals as cancerous, but the mental preparation usually stops after a few days when the symptom either goes away or when a clear alternative cause presents itself. This time, I didn’t get that kind of relief and, in fact, the symptom repeated more than once between setting the appointment and going to it. Each time, it was like an intrusive thought come to life: you’re going to die. You’re going to go through surgery and chemotherapy like Dad and you’re either going to die early, or find out like he did that the cure is worse than the disease, or maybe you’ll hang on just long enough to experience both.

Winter mornings in Texas can sometimes be surprisingly cold. While stepping out the door on a midsummer morning is like walking into someone’s hot exhale, as you might expect, a 33-degree morning is more like a slap in the face. When I packed everything I figured I’d need to move here a couple of years ago, I threw away my winter coat, thinking, I won’t be needing this anymore. (The coat was also about ten years old at that point.)

My first winter in Texas, I layered a bunch of shirts underneath a light jacket and wore a scarf on freezing days. The second winter, I decided that I’d had enough of being cold. After all, I rationalized, here in Texas it was monetarily possible to never have to feel cold again if you really don’t want to. So I bought the warmest coat I could find, an unstylish, bulky parka made by Caterpillar, the company that makes construction vehicles. No more layering, no more checking the weather before leaving in the morning. I could just put this coat on and not worry about it.

But now, under the shadow of a cancer scare these January mornings, wearing the big coat made me feel less like I was smarter than the weather and more like I was trying to smuggle a terminal disease wherever I went. Under my coat, tie, button-down shirt, undershirt, skin, fat, and muscle, something was growing silently in the dark. While maybe it had slipped up and showed some of its handiwork to me, it was already too late to do much about it now.

Since it has affected my life several times before, and since it is such an exquisite mixture of dread and uncertainty, cancer is one of my mind’s biggest bogeymen. I feel personally insulted by the idea of it. I treat you so well, body—why would you betray me? Was I not nice enough? Is this poetic justice for my vanity? Is it, as the old anecdotal saying goes, due to my worrying?

Not only did I feel like I was smuggling cancer under the big coat, I was also warming it up by drinking my coffee. I was feeding it directly when I ate something too sugary. And I was probably even giving it an evil sense of satisfaction when I got stressed out about it. If I was able to keep my mind off it by working in the lab, mixing and pipetting, using kits, and doing arithmetic in my head, it would come crashing back into focus when I was pulling my gloves off to wash my hands.

I pulled up incognito mode on my phone’s browser during my breaks, googling “5-year survival rate colon cancer age 35.” “Cancer staging colon prognosis.” “Colon cancer smoking.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack in college.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack 18 years ago.” “Colon cancer smoke one pack after seeing Luke Wilson smoking in The Royal Tenenbaums.”

At home, I suddenly started noticing the expiration dates on my nonperishables. What will last longer, I thought, the freshness of this baking soda, or me.

I knew I wasn’t going to be comforted by the first GP visit. After all, they’re usually the first stop to a specialist, unless you have a PPO insurance plan, which I don’t. The doctor listened to my symptoms and family history. “Well,” he said, “Given your history, it’s a good idea to refer you to a GI. But, you seem like you lead a healthy lifestyle otherwise, with none of the other risk factors, so we’ll see what he says.”

I made the GI appointment and had to wait two more weeks for it, with the same circular worrying and googling. At the GI appointment, I sat in the waiting room, the youngest patient there by a few decades, and I felt a little bit ridiculous. On the other hand, I’d also just read a harrowing story about a woman in her late 20s who had colon cancer and died from it. That was a real person, I thought, who at the first phase of it probably went through all the same feelings I was now, the I’m-being-ridiculous and is-this-worth-the-time-and-vacation-days, all the way up until her diagnosis. Not just because I was scared, I felt a pang of sympathy. A disease of the old picking a victim from the young is terrible luck.

And I figured, if it could be her, it could be anyone. But most of all, it could be me.

That last bit, I think, is one of—one of—my greatest flaws, the vanity of always thinking that the worst things will happen to you, in spite of the odds. It’s a way of making yourself feel special, but it has no upside. You don’t feel confidence with this type of special-feeling. In fact, you’re more likely to be timid and self-centered, and you just come across as weird to the outside observer. They might think, There’s only a few steps between that guy and Howard Hughes. Somewhere, deep in your mind, they think: Wires are crossed.

Shortly before I went in, another patient arrived, a man around my age or maybe younger who, despite a dozen or so free seats, declined to sit down. My name was called, and I passed a sign on the way to the back that said, “If you have recently traveled to China and have a fever you must let our staff know.”

This doctor’s exam rooms had floor-to-ceiling windows, the kind you’d see in a movie, instead of the usual dull and bulby, off-white plastic exam room interior. A Spanish medical student came in to give a pre-appointment questionnaire and to take my vitals. He asked, in much better English than I could have mustered in Spanish, “So. There is some blood in they crep?”

When he came in, the GI repeated what my GP had said, and since he was also the person who would be performing a colonoscopy, he said I should set an appointment for one with him. I managed to get a date three weeks later.

From other people’s stories, I knew two things about colonoscopies: they are no fun, especially the night before, but the general anesthesia on the day of the procedure, on the other hand, is fun. I was nervous enough on the day before that I actually asked someone at the pharmacy for help finding the items I was looking for: Polyethylene Glycol (or PEG, which we use all the time for lab experiments, and which I was going to have to drink 2 liters of), Gatorade, and laxative pills. I had to take about 800% of their recommended dosages, each.

The bodily effect of those chemicals was dramatic, and I will spare the details. The worst parts of it, I found, were the generally exhausting physical toll it took, and the feeling by the end that I had some kind of dangerous sodium imbalance: I was sweating between my fingers, for example, but the rest of me felt as dry as paper. At 10PM, I was too tired to do anything, but too nervous to sleep for more than a few hours.

One smaller worry that I felt the next morning, as I took a selfie in my hospital gown to send to a friend back home, making a backward peace sign to show off the IV sticking into my hand and also how brave I was being, was that I might just die right there on the table from the general anesthesia. Part of my grad school research was on Propofol, the most-used general anesthesia nowadays (which, incidentally, also killed Michael Jackson). This was the same drug I was to be given.

I’d never been fully put under anesthesia before. It was astronomically improbable that I’d have an adverse reaction to it and die (and by the way, Michael Jackson abused it, using it far outside of medical praxis—if you’re afraid to get a colonoscopy yourself, don’t be, it could save your life), but keep in mind what I said about my vanity.

“Hey, I’m really scared,” I told the anesthesiologist. He said something, muffled by his mask, that sounded like, “It’ll be all right.” Then he busied himself with a syringe, connecting it to my IV. He depressed it about a third of the way. “This should help you,” he said.

The last thing I said was, “Whoa…I feel it.”

After what felt like a hard, late-afternoon nap, I said, “Hello?”

My head was wrapped with something. When I touched my face, I could feel that there were cotton pads underneath the wrapping, holding my eyes shut. I guess that at some point either mid-procedure or after, my eyes had opened, unseeing, and they’d done this to keep them from drying out. “Hang on, sir,” I heard a nurse say, and my head was unwrapped.

“It’s over?” I asked.

“You’re all done,” he said.

“Gimme a minute, please,” I said, my South Jersey accent peeking out. “I feel a little weird.”

Eventually, I sat up. Two of the nurses helped me stand, and I pumped my arms like I was lifting light, invisible dumbbells. As I put my glasses on and looked around, I thought that they all seemed like they were fighting to not smirk. What did I say while I was blacked out? I wondered, with a twinge of panic, before deciding that it would be worthless to speculate. It could have been anything. There are literally millions of possibilities. Again—it would be worthless to speculate, I told myself, firmly.

An Uber driver, I had been told by hospital staff during a consultation, was not a legally strong enough party to take responsibility for me at discharge. Someone I knew would have to escort me to my apartment. Also, they said, they really would do that thing where you’re back in your own clothes, and they push you to the exit in a wheelchair when you’re all finished. After my procedure, my co-worker stood waiting in the discharge zone with his car as an orderly wheeled me out of the hospital exit. I stood up from the wheelchair and got into the passenger seat of his car, for some reason more aware than usual of the heat coming from the vent and the smell of the car’s leather upholstery. “I still feel weird from the anesthesia,” I said to my friend.

“I’ll bet you do,” he replied.

It was about lunch time, and I had taken the rest of the day off from work. When I got home, I ordered a pizza and lay on my bed. I ate the pizza and watched Star Wars. I had not felt any euphoria when I woke up, I thought hollowly. And my first solid meal in almost forty hours tasted unremarkable. I was still groggy, but not in a pleasant way. I felt cheated.

The hospital staff had put a manilla envelope into my hands as I left. It contained sheets of images the doctor had taken during the procedure. Once lucid, I leafed through them and compared the thumbnail-sized images on printer paper with googled images of cancerous tumors viewed through a colonoscope, trying to diagnose myself.

A couple of the images on the papers had shapes that looked weird, with what seemed like variations in the texture or color of my colon wall that to me, at least, appeared one hundred percent fatal. It was another two weeks before I had a follow-up appointment to go over them with the surgeon.

“See this?” The GI said, two weeks later, pointing to one of the images that had seemed completely normal to me, unlike other ones I had thought were much more scary and unusual-looking. “That’s a low-risk polyp. Of course, now it’s a no-risk polyp, ‘cause it’s gone.”

This medical episode ended only three or so weeks before the whole world changed, but I was all the more grateful for that. If I’d waited to be checked out, then I would have been weighing whether it was worth getting tested against the possibility of being infected with COVID.

The doctor recommended that I get a colonoscopy every five years from now on, but added, “If you want, you can go earlier than that.” I told him thanks, but once every five years sounded fine.

I wrote about the first seven weeks of the pandemic in my last entry. After that, May and June passed in the same way as March and April had. I went back to work in mid-June for two weeks before the first summer COVID spike closed things back up. I continued to play Quake, and I continued to fret about my family.

I had a job interview for a position in northern Maryland in April. I didn’t get it, but I had a good idea why I’d been turned down: the position wanted people with proven math skills. Which makes sense—for the last few years I’d said repeatedly that I wanted to have a job that involves less lab work and more data analysis. This was one of those jobs.

My graduate program gave me a degree in “Computational and Integrative Biology.” Sometimes I shorten it to “Integrative Biology,” or “Computational Biology,” but I always feel sort of dishonest when I tell people my degree. (Apparently this feeling is common among grad students). My own reason for feeling dishonest was because, in any other college, the work I was doing would probably just fall under normal old “Biology.” While it was true I had done course work that reflected “Computational and Integrative” Biology, they were courses taught in a remedial way.

When I say remedial, I mean that they were courses designed to get biologists up to speed on how to do higher-level data analyses with their experiments. For instance, in my “Biomath” course, we went over ordinary differential equations and graph theory. Those are both intermediate-level math types, ones you’d encounter in the later part of an undergraduate math degree program. Throughout that course, there was a lot of handwaving whenever I asked questions.

“Eh…,” the professor might have responded to something I had asked, “that requires a lot of background explanation we don’t need right now to handle the problem here. Just take it as a given for what we’re working on.”

In grad school, it’s common to be well-versed in only your narrow little research tunnel that leads outward to the edge of “known” biology. But a few times each month, several of us students would head to the bar down at the city’s waterfront after work to talk about our research. It usually began with a complaint—“This is the third time this kit wouldn’t work this week and it takes twelve fucking hours to run it each time,”—but to give us a more context for their problem, whoever was griping would have to go back and start at the beginning, recounting all the steps leading to their experiment’s failure.

This was a useful exercise, since a pair of new eyes on your work meant that at least you could get feedback on how to better relate the subject matter when you talked to a non-science audience, and at most, you might get a real solution for the problem you were bumping up against.

But I would sometimes get privately upset, as I sipped my beer and glanced out the window at the river, when a math-centered Computational and Integrative Biology student would start talking about their research. As someone who feels an unpleasant, TV static-like anxiety in my chest the moment I see letters in italics, or one of those big, orphan sorority sigmas following an equal sign during a math seminar, this upset feeling was directed at myself. Because, as a result of my insecurity, I would start listening to the beginning of the math student’s explanation of their research, trip over the first unfamiliar term I heard, lose the thread of what they were talking about, give up, and zone out. The math students, overall, just seemed light years ahead of me.

A critical vocabulary word that I began to mentally tie to the situation—slumming, these math types were slumming when talking to us biologists—was the grain of sand to my insecurity’s oyster. By the time I got my diploma a few years later, it had developed into a little pearl; now I had the feeling that I was, relative to those who’d come from a math background, a fake computational biologist.

Unhelpfully, the people in charge of hiring for the jobs I want nowadays seemed to agree. All the job listings I was interested in applying for made me feel the same panic that advanced math symbols on powerpoint slides did. The subjects they wanted their applicants to have experience in—machine learning, deep learning, regression analyses—were all frightening, impregnable terms, reminding me either of some kind of giant machine made up of endless tubes and valves, all spitting dangerously hot steam, or of a highly secure, underground bomb shelter that requires fingerprints or eyeball scans to get into. I knew from my previous learning experiences that if I didn’t understand the fundamentals and learned only the higher-level, applied stuff, it was just going to make me feel unworthy, and I’d forget it at once.

But summer had come—it was midsummer now, in fact. The pandemic wasn’t going anywhere, so what was I going to do if I didn’t start learning something? I ended up registering for three classes at a community college back home, which offered their fall semester online. For two thousand dollars, including textbooks, I got a spot in Introductory Statistics, Linear Algebra, and Calculus III.

Calculus III was a risk. I’d taken Calc I and II in undergrad, now about seventeen years ago, and I had earned Bs back then. I didn’t remember much of the material from either class. I’d tried watching Khan Academy videos at various points in the meantime, but could never stick with it. I’d watch several videos in a row, feel like I understood things, try a practice problem, get it wrong, and forget about it after a day or two. But now, I had put actual money into it and, in a few months, a grade would be spit back out, so this time I had real skin in the game.

But I had misgivings that I was too old to learn new stuff, or that I would be one of those students I remember when I was in undergrad, the older students who would grind class to a halt with their endless questions. Or maybe I would get worse grades than I had in undergrad, despite taking things more seriously now.

Two of the classes were taught asynchronously, meaning each lecture was a video that you could pause or replay at your leisure, and all tests were take-home, but the other class, Statistics, was done over Zoom. You might think a Zoom class could be a better way to learn—clarifying questions can be asked immediately, for instance—but for me, at least, it was not. Instead of focusing on the material being taught, the whole time I’d be thinking, “They can see me. Everyone here can see me. I can see me, and I have a dumbass expression on my face. Can they tell that I have a bedsheet instead of a curtain over my window blinds?”

My mind wandered during class just as much as it had while sitting in a lecture hall when I was eighteen, but now, these classes were held later at night, after I’d been working all day and had eaten dinner. As a result of this, and the fact that I find Statistics to be boring when it’s taught as a series of don’t-worry-about-how-we-derived-it formulas to plug numbers into, I did the worst in Statistics.

But Calc and Linear Algebra were more interesting. When I watched the class videos, I got familiar with the disembodied voices of the teachers, who each seemed to be trying to do an impression of Khan Academy videos. My Calc teacher, with his strong Vietnamese accent, would punctuate every few lines of derivation or proof with, “So what does that mean then?” Every time—new topic, new chapter, new problem, exactly the same tone of voice: “So what does that mean then?”

Eventually, in my head, his cadence merged with the tones of Woody Woodpecker’s laugh, and I began saying it to myself as I did chores around my apartment. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d half-sing at my garbage can liner as I cinched it shut. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d say to a wrinkled button-down shirt, enjoying the pepper shaker-y smell of my iron when it’s turned up to its hottest setting. “So what does that mean, then?” I’d say to the window blinds, when considering whether I should replace the bedsheet I’d hung there with an actual curtain, before answering myself that No, this apartment is too temporary for something as tony as curtains.

Sometimes I’d say it three times in a row, like Woody Woodpecker himself:

“So what does that mean, then?”

I kept a Google Sheet of how much time I spent doing work for each class, and found that I averaged about 20 hours a week total. That broke down to approximately an hour and a half each weekday, and on Saturday and Sunday I would go for about six or seven hours each. I’d get up at 7:30 those weekend mornings and brew a pot of coffee, then sit taking notes and working through every part of each assigned homework, not moving on from a problem until I understood everything about it.

I think that those Saturday and Sunday mornings may have been the happiest I felt during the year 2020. In the middle of a difficult Calc problem, not having the answer yet but certain I was on the right track, while also buzzing on caffeine, as a beam of early horizontal sunlight hit my kitchen backsplash and filled the apartment with more brightness than all my lightbulbs put together, I for once did not feel worried. I was unworried about my parents, my sisters, my brother, my sister-in-law, my niece and nephew, and all the pets. Unworried about COVID, or cancer, or the work stresses of the week. Unworried about getting older, about being alone still, or about enjoying being alone too much; unworried about letting all of this time go by and still feeling like real life hasn’t started; unworried about my dad having another stroke, or about my mom just suddenly up and dying out of nowhere, or cancer, or whether my hairline is changing, or the fact that my heart has been skipping a beat sometimes lately, or whether my friends who I speak to on the phone were getting sick of me, or whether I am too graphic when I describe symptoms I am afraid mean I might have cancer, or whether my apartment neighbors will keep me up with their noise again tonight, or whether the tooth sensitivity I feel drinking cold water lately means I need to risk a dentist visit during a pandemic, or whether I will be able to have healthier boundaries with my parents whenever I return to the northeast, or whether I’ll ever feel truly satisfied and content, or whether I’ll ever feel actual joy some day, or whether my hang-ups, and anxieties, and fears, and regrets about my personal and professional choices will end up all ganging up on me at once, or, of course, whether at any given moment, I might have cancer.

My attitude going into the classes was that I would disregard whatever grades I got and simply aim for as much comprehension as possible. But about halfway through the semester, I lost my nerve and began to think of my grades as a direct indicator of my level of understanding. So I started fretting about my grades, and on days of Calc III exams during the second half of the semester, I took vacation time so I could spend the whole day working on them.

It got a little crazy toward the end, but finally, it was over, and I managed to get all As. That made me happy, even if I knew that that kind of satisfaction is a bit immature. But I felt like I was making up for some of the sins I had committed as a college student, my laziness and my previous lack of appreciation for education finally, in a small way, absolved.

I spent Christmas here in Texas. When I think back on Christmases from previous years I find that I can remember the past two years very well because I flew home and packed a lot of family and friend time into a few short days. Before 2018, though, I can’t remember any specific Christmas well enough to recount anything that happened on the day.

But when I was a little kid, I remembered each Christmas perfectly, mainly due to the gifts I got and the room where we put the Christmas tree—where “Christmas happened”: in 1990, it was in the back room and we got a magic set, and also my brother pretended to faint when he saw he’d gotten Reebok Pumps. In 1991, it was in the family room, and my brother and I got the Nintendo game “Base Wars.” In 1992, it was in the living room and we got a Sega Genesis along with the game “Sonic 2.” In 1993, it was in the family room again, and I got a Hot Wheels Key Force car, and my brother got the Genesis game “Hard Ball 3 With Al Michaels.”

In 1994, my grandfather died a few weeks before Christmas, and we got a Sega CD. That was the year I became aware that the Christmas spirit was vulnerable to external forces, one’s first experience with death being the most offensive of those forces, and after a few months I also became aware that a hot new gaming console like the Sega CD could “fail,” slipping into obscurity with a small and unremarkable library of games. As a result, the indestructible-seeming sheen of Christmas fell away, leaving behind a better idea of what Christmas really is: a bare, thin-glassed lightbulb plugged into the middle of the year’s darkest period. After 1994, I can’t really remember what happened each Christmas.

This past Christmas will always be memorable, though, because I spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day pretty much doing one of three things: playing Quake (yes, that hobby still refuses to die), watching something Star Wars-related, or video chatting with my family. At any time when I wasn’t speaking to family, I had Christmas music playing in the background, including while Star Wars was on. I turned the heat up in my apartment to 75 degrees and enjoyed how money-wastingly hot it was getting, until my nose started to bleed from the dry air.

I want to take this opportunity to say that I much prefer Christmas Eve to Christmas Day. Christmas Eve is generally all anticipation and guest arrivals, buoying the mood long into the falling night. From the viewpoint of Christmas Eve, any miracle might happen the following morning. But then after a late, over-buttered breakfast on Christmas Day, there’s nothing much else to do except think about cleaning up and regret how much you’ve eaten. The “anything could happen” feeling is now all gone, collapsed from a dazzling infinity’s worth of possibilities down to one homely outcome.

I hadn’t put up any decorations for my apartment, unless the Christmas music can be considered a decoration. This ended up being a good thing, though, since I didn’t have to take anything down once the holiday was over.

I started taking walks pretty early in the pandemic, my first walk happening after about one week of lockdown. That day there was a surprisingly large amount of people also walking. We all stayed far away from one another, since none of us were wearing masks—the width of even a modest suburban Texas street is still impressively wide, so there was no safety issue. I always took the initiative to be the one who crossed the street if I saw someone, exaggeratedly swinging my arms as I crossed so the person walking toward me could see my intentions even from far away. I did this because I figured it would be harder for the dog-walkers to wrangle their dog across the street and get out of my way, and the people without dogs were either old or were walking in a group.

In the beginning I was walking maybe twice a week, which then became three times, which became five. It held at five times a week during the fall semester because I’d have to be on Zoom from 6:30-8:30 PM Tuesdays and Thursdays, which took up the whole span of time in which I would usually walk. Nowadays, no longer taking classes, I walk every night.

For a while, I tried to get home before sunset, because I’m afraid of being hit by a car in the dark. After the clocks shifted back, I had to choose between walking earlier, during rush hour when everyone was arriving back at their houses from work, or waiting to walk until after the sun has set. I ended up buying one of those reflective construction worker’s vests for $8 on Amazon and waiting for nighttime. I feel like a dork when I wear the vest, but most of the people walking at night who I see are also wearing reflective clothes. Theirs are more chic than my vest, though, looking like they were ordered through an expensive fitness-wear catalogue. I’d buy the same type, but to me, walking is a meditative, solitary act, and I don’t want to feel that I’m catering to externalities like looking stylish while I’m trying to feel solitary. It also acts as a tacit acknowledgement that I’m not a criminal: “I’m making myself as visible as possible! I’m not casing your houses to break into them later on!”

Even though the focus of COVID is on the transmission of disease through shared, respired air, I still pay a lot of attention to contaminated surfaces. When I go out anywhere, I have a routine: first, I put on my going-out clothes (newly clean), then my shoes, which are possibly dirty, since I have to re-tie them sometimes with unwashed hands, so before I touch anything else after tying my shoes, I wash my hands. Then, I put on a mask, turn off all the lights except the one at the front door, pick up my keys with my right hand, slip my phone into my left pocket, and walk to the door. I put my keys in my right pocket (my wallet is already there), open the door with my right hand, turn out the light, step out the door, and take the keys out of my pocket to lock the door with, again, only my right hand.

I use my right hand pretty much everywhere outside—to push or pull open doors, to open my car to retrieve something from it, to open my mailbox and carry my mail in—because I know that if I use my left hand, my phone-operating hand, I’m going to have to put the phone into a little UV light phone-sterilizing box that I bought when I get home. And for some reason, I feel like it’s a small moral failure to have to use that UV box, so I try to keep my left hand from touching anything except for the phone. But I know that if I drive anywhere, all bets are off—both my hands touch the steering wheel, my left hand touches the car door handle while getting out, and I push open doors with both hands whenever I get somewhere. I’m sure that my left hand ends up touching something that may have SARS-CoV-2 on it as I carry out an errand, and therefore into the UV box my phone must go when I get home. But, when I go out to walk, there’s a good chance that I won’t need to touch anything with my left hand between leaving the apartment and coming back. If that’s the case, I can use my phone freely while walking if I want to, but when I get home, I can still just take it from my pocket and place it on my desk, no ultraviolet sterilizing waves needed. But of course then I still have to wash my right hand.

The walk is the same route every night now. It’s a vaguely circular, level 2.7 miles, starting northbound, bearing west, south, then east. It takes about forty minutes for me to walk the whole thing, plus or minus four minutes, depending on how warmed up I get while walking. My heart rate generally goes up to about 115 beats per minute for most of the walk, according to my watch, then spikes to 135 as I climb the stairs to my fourth floor apartment at the end.

Insulated by the sound of music or an audiobook on my headphones, and with my hands stuck in my pockets, actually holding onto the cloth pocket linings themselves, I feel less like a person on a walk and more like someone steering a large, inertia-filled thing—a sailboat that I have to tack against an unfavorable wind, or a bobsled whose blades I have to turn out of deep ruts on the ice. But despite feeling bodily awkward, I find suburbia to be a soothing place to move through. I really don’t understand how some people think of the suburbs as some kind of dystopia, to be honest. My neighborhood has wide streets, as I mentioned, and the houses are almost all ranch-style. The trees, like the houses, are shorter than they are in the northeast. Some of the trees look more like very tall shrubbery. As for the ground, the blades of grass are wider, and the soil is just a bit sandier. Sometimes, I see two-inch-long cockroaches, what people back home would call “water bugs,” creeping across the sidewalks.

I can’t remember the names of the streets on the walk, except for Forrest Street, which I noticed once when I saw the street sign while I was running and it made me think of “Run, Forrest, run!” and Kenilworth Street, which has the same name as a street back at home. Other than those, I only know points along the route by the informal names I’ve assigned to them. There’s a road where it changes direction from heading north to heading east, and it looks over a little park. The lack of houses there gives an unobstructed view of the western horizon. For that reason, I call that part of the route “Sunset Bend.” At another point on the route there is a house where, in the beginning of lockdown last spring, a family was always outside, the parents sitting motionless in Adirondack chairs while their kids all went nuts on the front lawn, playing with the sprinkler, or doing hopscotch, or sitting at one of those tiny plastic picnic tables, playing some board game. That part of the walk I called “Kidville.”

There were other houses that were always so inactive, so abandoned-seeming—the blinds were always closed and there wasn’t a car in the driveway—that I started to wonder if anyone lived there at all, and whether maybe the neighborhood association was mowing its lawn to stave off the shabbiness. But after the switch from walking in daylight to nighttime, I saw that some of those houses, while still shut up and silent, had lights on inside in rooms not facing the street. Looking at those houses is like staring into the vents of a space heater in a dark room.

Eventually I started thinking about how the walk is exactly 2.7 miles. Then, idly, I realized that if you multiply 2.7 by 30, you get 81. That number of years, eighty-one, seems like a decent amount of years to hope to live—it’s not greedy, you’re not asking for a hundred years, for example—but also, maybe when I get closer to 81, there will be better medical treatments and 81 will seem younger. Assuming that doesn’t happen, though, I think of 81 years as more or less “a complete life.” It is very sad, but not exactly a tragedy, to die at 81.

With this in mind, I started translating the distance along my walk to human ages. For instance, 1.0 miles into the walk, times 30, would equal 30 years. And 1.2 miles times 30 would equal 36 years, which is how old I am now. Since by the time I’d discovered this “conversion formula,” the walk was already so familiar to me that I had a very good perspective on how far into the walk any given point felt—the precise moment when I sense that I’m transitioning from the middle to the end phase of the walk, for example. So when I came up with the multiply-by-30 conversion formula, I was interested to see exactly what part of the walk 1.2 miles, or 36 years old, corresponded to.

The answer is that it was later in the walk than I’d hoped. The moment I reach 1.2 miles is long past the most scenic parts of the route; it’s just after a left turn that puts me on a long straightaway of modest houses leading to an arterial road, known to me as the hook-around part of the circuit where in past walks, I had thought, “Now I’m on my way back home.”

Over the next few evenings, I noted other points, ones that had come before the 1.2 mile marker, and compared them to parts of my already-lived life: I graduated high school at 0.6 miles into the walk, which was the beginning of Sunset Bend. I got my master’s degree in a spot where, at nighttime, a streetlight shines through the leaves on a tree, giving the street a dance hall, disco-ball kind of lighting (hence, “Disco Point”). That friendly, lighted patch of street, with a jaunty-looking house standing next to it, makes it my favorite part of the walk. As for points I have not yet reached: still ahead of my current age distance, at around 1.5 miles, is Kidville, but I haven’t seen anyone in the front yard there in months now.

Toward the end, almost back home, there’s a large school property. I’ve never seen anyone on the grounds, except for the occasional person who sneaks onto the running track to jog it. Along one of the fences that borders the school, in springtime last year, someone started zip-tying laminated sheets of paper with jokes written on them to the chain links. The jokes are all clean, and pretty lame—these days it seems like almost all kid-friendly jokes are just puns, like “How did the farmer find his wife? He tractor down!”

One time, I saw a kid about ten years old on his bike, riding along the sidewalk and stopping to read each joke. The fence ends at a small park for toddlers. There’s a big plastic sign at the entrance of the park, faded but still legible, that has a boy’s name displayed on it. Below his name is written a tragically short span of years, and below that, a message: “This park is dedicated to the memory of (the boy’s name), and to all of the little tykes of (the neighborhood).” Whoever it was putting up jokes on the schoolyard fence stopped replacing them with new ones some time during the fall, and I walk too late to ever see anyone playing at the playground. Well, that’s not quite true: very rarely, around 9 PM on warm nights, I might see what appears to be a young mother scrutinizing her phone as her kid swings in the dark.

I haven’t been to the gym to lift any weights since lockdown started. I’ve been able to do cardio in my apartment, but the result of all the cardio and all the walking is that I’ve lost a decent amount of lifting strength, as well as about ten pounds. This is consistent with how life in general has evolved: I have also reduced the list of spaces I travel to, leaving my apartment only to go to work, to pick up groceries, and to walk through my neighborhood. My body, and the edges of my life, have gone through a great miniaturization, but my perspective has adapted with it—each feature within this smaller space seems more detailed, and the day’s moments are of a finer grain. Inside my apartment, I have realized how much the lighting affects the atmosphere, and as a result the mood, so I can change which lights are on when to reflect the mood of each time of day. When I walk at night, sometimes I have the same feeling I did the week before I moved here from New Jersey, a sort of farewell feeling. That feeling started in the fall as a dessert-like flipside to my happy mornings spent doing math homework. Those evenings, I also felt like I was saying goodbye, to a more insecure, more ignorant version of myself, I guess. Nowadays, I get the feeling that I’m saying goodbye to the person who had, until now, always feared that he was missing out on things.

There will be a time, closer to now than now is to the beginning of the pandemic, when I will leave Texas. I will be happy and relieved to return home, whenever that is. But at the same time, there’s a new feeling that is starting to take root, and it’s a weird one: for all the hardship that the pandemic has presented to me, the anxiety for my family and the limitations it’s put on my mobility, social life, and career, for more than ten months now, its most memorable effect, unless I’m affected by the illness itself, will be that it made me love my neighborhood. I have walked more than 500 miles of it over the months, and scores of miles remain to be walked before I move away. I’ve walked during steaming afternoons, during cloudy sunsets, in pre-dawn twilight on cool mornings, and during soft, breezy evenings. It’s always picturesque, pleasant, very green. The houses look inviting, and the dog-walkers wave to me. I listen to music that suits my mood and do the geographical equivalent of palm reading. That’s all, really.

Can a person love a place? Feel gratitude toward landscaping, houses, parked cars, and people viewed only from a distance? Can someone feel affinity to a fox seen in a churchyard and streetlights shining through leaves in the night? Affection for lawn mower exhaust, for the noise of an approaching SUV slowly carving out a bend? Love for landmarks that correspond to moments in one’s past, or to moments that one might encounter in the future?

There will be a time, I hope, when my years in Texas are far in the past. But some day, I will hear a song, or see a house with a certain architecture, or smell a variety of grass, and Texas will return to me. At the same time, I also hope that it isn’t too overwhelming. I’ve found that I can never tell how potent a memory of a particular time or place will be until there’s a lot of distance between me and it. Sometimes, a memory will come gently, settling on me like a haze, ready to be indulged, even laughed at. In such cases I turn up the music that brought the memory, or take a luxuriating whiff of the scent, and I think back on the time, feeling only a little bit sad.

But other memories swoop down like some kind of predatory bird, and in those cases, the nostalgia feels more like the punch of the bird’s talons in the back of my neck. The sense of missing is so strong that it feels less like nostalgia and more like a distilled, portable homesickness. Ridiculously, I’ll even want to return to the memory’s time and place, despite knowing that in reality it had been fraught with pain or unease. Which makes the sneaking feeling growing during this time, at this place, all the more uncanny. I mean, all that this span of time has been, is me, and some terrain, and the wind, and the light of the sun or the moon. No one else. My nostalgia for anything before this was always about times and places with other people. So who will I be missing?

Someone once said, Wherever you go, there you are. But now, I wonder: is that really true?

3 notes · View notes

yanabortnik · 4 years ago

Photo

YANA BORTNIK ( FIVEL STEWART ) is a 17 year old JUNIOR student at Broadripple Academy. SHE is originally from MARQUETTE, MICHIGAN but moved to Broadripple 3 YEARS ago. SHE is AMBITIOUS and DISCIPLINED but can also be CONDESCENDING and CRITICAL.

BASICS

Name: Yana Mikhailovna Bortnik

Age: 17

Grade: Junior

House: Keough

Cabin Room: Room 3

How long have they been at Broadripple: 3 years

Where are they from originally: Marquette, Michigan

Extra curricular: Soccer, Speech and Debate, SWAT, and Women of Broadripple,

CHARACTER AESTHETICS

Frothy matcha lattes, a furrowed brow, bargain bin arts & crafts, the strong smell of incense, palms pressed against the bark of a tree, late night cram sessions, an old scuffed pair of crocs, vanilla yogurt topped with berries, a small collection of crystals, a grass-stained soccer ball, monochromatic outfits, a small plain Kamidana, a backpack stuffed to the brim, a folder filled with school assignments graded with anything less than an A, a smattering of freckles across a nose, nervously bitten nails, a meticulous daily planner, and a furby meme-filled album on an iPhone.

TRAITS

Positive Personality Traits: Responsible, patient, ambitious, resourceful, loyal, organized, and self-disciplined

Neutral Personality Traits: Cautious, realistic, practical, methodical, business-oriented, serious, and suspicious

Negative Personality Traits: Sensitive, know-it-all, expects the worst, nosey, cheap, and rarely satisfied

FACTS

Yana is from Marquette, Michigan—a friendly, scenic, and cold place on the Upper Peninsula. Her mother is originally from Japan and moved to the United States to attend university and she stayed after she met Yana’s father. Yana has an older brother, Mikhail (Misha), who was born in New York, but then a job opportunity cropped up for her father that brought the family halfway across the country and dumped them in Michigan.

Yana’s parents are hardworking, no-nonsense, and both functioning alcoholics. Yana and Misha’s upbringing was, as a result, a little distant and sanitized, and has led Yana to push herself as far and hard as she can in order to feel like she has done something right by them. But mostly, not much she can do catches their attention.

Enter: Broadripple Academy in her google search for “top prestigious boarding schools grades 9-12.” Yana dedicated the entirety of eight grade to cramming for the entrance exam and convinced at least half a dozen of her teachers to send letters of recommendation or to help her with the application. While the Montessori school she attended wasn’t bad per se, it didn’t have the stature a place like Broadripple Academy did. It was a ticket to a great college, to a great future, and maybe like… a hearty pat on the back from her dad or a congratulatory hug from her mom????

She paid all the fees with money she made from babysitting over the previous two years, forged her parents’ signatures (as she was accustomed to), and her parents didn’t find out she had even applied until she got the acceptance letter. Their reaction was, as per usual, lackluster. They condescendingly thought it was cute that she had done all this on her own, bragged to their friends about how they helped her get in, and then in the fall Yana was shipped off.

What motivates Yana is not perfection but success, and it does have the habit of driving her up the wall sometimes but that is just the kind of sacrifice she has to make in order to fulfill a goal. She is very future-oriented in that when she first arrived at Broadripple she had a bit of a I’m Not Here To Make Friends outlook (though undoubtedly made 2-3 really close friends within the first couple months and has assumed her role as Mom Friend yes hello these are wanted connections).

Her dad is an atheist but her mom practices Shinto and used to be a Buddhist. When Yana and Misha were young, she really immersed them in both religions. They sporadically attended Lake Superior Zendo back home until Yana was about twelve and they still perform Shinto prayers at home at a Kamidana.

She is really dedicated to their studies and heavily side-eyes everyone who doesn’t take school seriously. Like, guys don’t you realize how lucky you are to be here!!!

HEADCANONS

Back home, Yana has a pet ferret named Pasha. If you are a friend of hers, you know everything about him from the little snuffling sounds he makes while he sleeps, his favorite treats, and the “walks” through the park that Yana takes him on when she’s home. He is her baby and she misses him. </3

Yana is quite... economical (i.e. cheap as hell). Her brother made her a tie-dye shirt that says ‘Dollar Tree Prom King 2008′ (an inside joke). She really values independence and money = independence, y’know? It’s just another thing she doesn’t have to worry about bothering her parents for, so she works at a restaurant and babysits almost nonstop whenever she’s home so she has spending money while at school.

Which reminds me that she feels like an awful daughter for literally no valid reason. That’s just what checked out parents do to you, I guess. :/

Though she’s a very serious person the things she finds funny are usually bizarre, nonsensical memes and she particularly loves furby ones, especially the long furby blessed be his name etc etc.

She has a small crystal collection that she uses for things like concentration, energy, calmness, self love, etc. Does she sincerely believe they do anything? I’m gonna go ahead and give it a 50/50. She does enjoy the ritual of charging them and doing full moon stuff. Who’s down to bask in the moonlight???

When not wearing the school-regulated Oxfords or her standard pair of white sneakers Yana is, in fact, wearing a pair of light blue crocs. They’re comfy, okay!!! Also fashion-wise, she does wear a lot of monochromatic outfits. If you go to her Pinterest page that I linked above you’ll see what I mean. Nothing too weird just like, a Brand.

QUESTIONS ABOUT THE RETREAT

What do they think about The Retreat? Yana is someone who feels her goals are in danger and/or inconvenienced by the Retreat. She very much wants to be at Broadripple and she’s going to be worrying about her GPA and missed opportunities from not being on campus. It makes her uneasy and she’s anxious to get back tot he dorms.

Do they have any previous experience with camping or other outdoors? She was in the Girl Scouts when she was a kid and attended Girl Scout Camp for a couple weeks for a few summers, but other than that her family’s connection to the outdoors was pretty regimented in religious ceremony a lot of the time. But she did grow up with a lot of people in Michigan who camped and did outdoors-y stuff, so she picked up one small things but nothing that would be very useful at the Retreat.

What does their cabin bunk look like? How will they decorate their space? Yana isn’t a neat freak by any means but she does value organization. She has her crystals laid out on her bedside table (they are usually on her desk back in the dorm), a couple sticks of incense, and her clothes are all neatly folded and put away. She has designated a spot beside her bed for all her school stuff, and then she has a framed photo of herself and her brother propped up nearby (see here). She also has a tote bag of like, cheap crafts supplies to do in her “downtime” as a form of chilling lmao. She had more miscellaneous decorative stuff back in her dorm that she didn’t bring.

Do they believe in the supernatural? To what degree? In a sense, yeah, depending on your definition of what is or isn’t supernatural. Going to take a direct quote here but: “informed by Shinto beliefs around notions of animism — a soul (“reikon”) lives within all existence and phenomena. Everyday things — from objects to plants to mountains — can be defined as ‘kami’ or deities.” So in a sense that she believes in deities, yes. But monsters? Cryptids? Ghosts? Not really.

Are they easily spooked? Actually, yes asdkjn. She’s just very verrrrrry jumpy. It doesn’t take much to startle her honestly.

AND FINALLY,

A very dumb but (hopefully) fun quiz made by your admins, please share what result you got

you will sacrifice yourself for someone else

your one of the purer hearts of broadripple, you may not even know the person you sacrifice yourself for that well but you think its the right thing to do. and maybe it is. but would they do the same thing for you?

genuinely didn’t expect it tbh! but aw

#retreat:intro #alcoholism tw #hmu if u wanna plot i have a few wanted connects for one in my gd life!!!!#i mean it's just 2-3 real good friends and one ex-boyfriend (i have details xoxo)#once*

7 notes · View notes

its-norea-wong · 4 years ago

Text

Yall don know crap about me so here:

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? More cereal than milk. I don like to have a bowl full of milk after.

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a winter-y day? Yes.

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Random pieces of old sketch paper I have lying around everywhere.

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? I drink green tea as is. I’ll have that or cocoa, with milk and sprinkles.

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Yes, I don smile often.

6: do you keep plants? Yes, I have a small sunflower in my window.

7: do you name your plants? Yes, her name is Vivi. Don fuking judge me.

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? I use oil paints.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yeah, I hum to the music I play when I draw, sketch and/or paint.

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Sleep? Hah, I don’t, but If I take my sleeping pills like I’m suppose to, usually on my side.

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? Er allein, dem die Jugend gehört, gewinnt die Zukunft.

12: what’s your favorite planet? Saturn.

13: what’s something that made you smile today? Watching Shiloh trip and fall.

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? I’m not going to live in the city once I finish school.

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! It would take nine years to walk to the moon.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? Ramen.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I want to get rid of the blonde patch at my routes.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. When I learnt German only to give our Jewish history teacher wwII flash backs. Nate was mad. I didn’t care.

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? Yes and just small outfit ideas.

20: what’s your favorite eye color? Blue, purple or orange. Why? Idfk.

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. My hello kitty little backpack that I brought with me from japan, I now use it as a purse when I go shopping. It confuses people.

22: are you a morning person? hell. no.

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Lay in bed till 4 pm.

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? Fuck no.

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? The boy’s dorm room.

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? My black and pastel coloured converse.

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? bubblegum.

28: sunrise or sunset? sunrise. I’m not a morning person but it looks nice.

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? no.

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? yes, when? I wont tell, unless asked.

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. They’re okay ig, yes?, no, no, and no thanks.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. I can’t really hang out with friends at 3 AM.

33: what’s your fave pastry? dessert mochii.

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? It’s name is Kuma. It’s a brown fluffy bear. yes i do.

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? not anymore, I used to write to my mom while I was at school.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? Bo burnham. That’s it.

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? Clean.

38: tell us about your pet peeves! JB. just JB hitting on. every. single. guy. That or Shiloh. Just Shiloh being Shiloh. Also Bae thinking he’s better than everyone else.

39: what color do you wear the most? Black.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I own a small necklace with purple beads. It has meaning to me I guess.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? The One Safe Place.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! No.

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? JB.

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? When I was 11.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Yeah.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. uhhhhh. To the guy who invented zero, thanks for nothing.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Store bought ramen. It’s so gross.

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? Thunder and Lightning, and yes.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? The last CD I bought? Beetlejuice the musical.

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? Knifes. Pencils.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? uhh. Jeremy with sad song by scotty sire.

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? Ugandan knuckles, i know its dead but it’s still my favorite.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? i love beetlejuice.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? idfk.

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? I climbed up a shelf at the library to prove that I could be tall.

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? no.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? im not answering this one.

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? uhh idk.

59: what’s your favorite myth? Any Japanese urban legend.

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? uhh. no.

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? I once gave away some floppy hat that my step dad gave me.

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? Yes, pineapple.

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? Yes. I make sure they’re organized on genre and then in the genre it’s alphabetized.

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? blue.

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? My mom, but in order to do that, i’d have to die. :)

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Pink daises and sunflowers, small ones, plus some bits of lavender.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? Happy, it’s nice.

68: what’s winter like where you live? no snow, it’s like 60 degrees.

69: what are your favorite board games? idk.

70: have you ever used a ouija board? ya.

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? green.

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? No, i have an okay memory.

73: what are some of your worst habits? I bounce my leg around whenever i’m not moving, that or I flick my pencil around.

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. big ass hole.

75: tell us about your pets! I only have one and she’s a blind kitty. She’s white with spots and has a fluffy tail.

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? My homework.

77: pink or yellow lemonade? pink.

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? uhh i really don’t care

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? I was given a flower by some girl during lunch, i never got her name though.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? white, i didn’t get to choose cus I live in a dorm room.

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. northern star.

82: are/were you good in school? ya i am.

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? idk.

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? no.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? Ya i guess, and deadpool.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? no. not really.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? my neighbor totoro, kikis delivery service.

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? not really.

89: are you close to your parents? I was close with my mom.

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. tokyo. i don’t have to explain.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? no where.

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? i don’t put cheese on my pasta.

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? Shaved under my lil floof bangs.

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? Jeremy.

95: what are your plans for this weekend? Draw.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I update immediately.

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? INTJ - The Mastermind, libra, and huffle puff.

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? idk and no.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. no.

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? 5 years into the past, and for reasons.

#norea wong #about me #ya'll don't know shit #so here we are #idk lmao

6 notes · View notes

invitedeath · 5 years ago

Photo

SEPHIROTH — relationship & plotter call.

hello lovely isolians! a new year means new plots and ideas, hence why i’m reposting this mammoth of a plotter once again!

so liking this post means that you are 100% down with interacting with me in some fashion! ways this might happen may be... → me sending you im’s / tumblr asks to plot or chat! i can be quite a talkative person as a forewarning, as i love discussing rp things as well as getting to know my rp partner! → if we are already friends on discord or twitter, i might message you that way to ask you about plots or ideas! → exchanging ask memes / meme day things that might be a bit more personal than a general sentence meme → possible random starters or musings dedicated to your muse, sometimes i get sudden inspiration for these things! → general tomfoolery and shenanigans in character ( and ooc if you like )

you can contact me via the im system here, by the /ask feature or you can ask for my discord/twitter if you prefer those. just let me know.

FRIENDS.

↪ honestly friendships aren’t typically on the agenda for him. he is arrogant beyond belief and considers everyone to be weaker than him or to some degree unworthy of his time or energy. he really does not have any interest emotionally in anyone besides himself, instead he is far more likely to use and discard people when they are no longer needed.

↪ however! i am down to... vague villain-alliance type deals with fellow power players here. he wont consider your muse a friend, but rather a pawn or even a means to an end, that end being his goal of generally using this island for his means, apologies. preferably the intellectual, over-powered, edgy types will probably gravitate towards him more, but i’m willing to throw anything at the wall to see what sticks. he’s not a nice guy, by any means, but it would be interesting to see how he has to play the game here to his advantage until he regains powers.

↪ there are some cases where he might engage in conversation with non-villain types and these would likely be far more dialogue-heavy threads including metaphorical topics or debates. the conversations of life, death, mortality, good vs evil, frailty of existence, legacy, power and corruption, calamities, birthright and betrayal are just some of the topics possible to arise in discussion. that being said, whilst these topics would be of interest to him, the character themselves must meet his standard of what he considers worthy of his time eg. those just willing to argue with him will bore him whereas someone curious to his nature might be treated to an actual conversation

↪ warriors, outcasts, villains, intellectuals, fellow puppet-master type villains especially, those he ‘befriended’ in past events, perhaps even neighbours to his house would all be likely connections. friends of those he has worked alongside or met, or those wishing to seek great power and know of his existence might seek him out also, but yes... ““““friends”“““ is a very difficult term for him.

→ his most recent developments see him as a far more casual version of his canon self, over a year of living as close to a “domestic life” as possible have meant that whilst he is aloof and cold, he is also far more likely to be out and about, buying wine at some creepy gas station at 4:30am for example. he chats when he’s in the mood and might even stick around to cause some chaos for the sake of boredom eating him alive. so whilst he is still very much a dangerous inhabitant here in spirale, sephiroth is currently Domesticated somewhat as he buys his time... for something...

ENEMIES.

↪ heroes of all shapes and sizes might feel threatened by the ominous presence of a monster who seems inclined to side with chaos as opposed to peace. he’s not outright starting fires here but he is present in the more morbid moments of isolian discourse, an omen of death lingering on the sideline. he has his plans and he may just mock you with them, but in general since he does and WILL cut down npcs ( or players ) alike, he makes for the perfect villain. BE WARY he has a few unlocked powers and knows the island well. fighting him would not guarantee your victory.

↪ he has traumas. plenty of them. some of them originate from white labs and white coats, meaning he might just view you as an enemy if you’re a scientist or someone who dabbles in human experimentation. his reasons are his own, but let’s just say that if you consider him a good candidate for poking and prodding with scientific equipment, you may just lose an arm.

↪ i LOVE fight threads especially really gritty, bloody types. i would prefer to plot these out so we know what’s going on beforehand, but feel free to develop these with me honestly i love a good old classic villain hero showdown. i determine winners based on the powers unlocked or a random generator. i don’t want to win every fight, but i also don’t want to unrealistically lose unless the odds are 50/50. i only write fights that both you and i are comfortable with ending!

↪ be a human. that’s it, you’re officially the enemy. a cocky, arrogant, interfering one would be oh so annoying. he wont attack because you’re a human, exactly... but the attitude that goes with one. considering yourself the top of the food chain, for example, might just end up being the defining reason for you own self becoming the meal.

→ police/law enforcers/general crime stoppers might try and get involved when they see him stabbing someone with that great big sword of his. typically he’ll turn the sword on them too, but if you’re interesting enough, or maybe aren’t as pure as you seem, he may just put it down long enough to chat. typically though you will get stabbed. sorry.

LOVERS.

↪ for the last year i’ve pretty much tried to stay away from developing anything too romantic. besides one sort of amusing game he has with a character currently in the group ( lanque bombyx ), sephiroth has avoided love or relationships or even flirting really. that being said, once he has ranked up and my development for this current “arc” of his character in isola comes to a close, i will be opening him up more for shipping potential!

however for the meantime...

MISC.

↪ pawns and such would be a fun dynamic later. his general presence is pretty terrifying, so it wouldn’t be a stretch if you have an appropriate muse for them to be fearful enough to carry out some little tasks for him. this might be more common later on, but i’m down to discussion for it currently!

↪ places you may find him can include: ↪ near his residence ( personal housing; castle in the mistwood ) ↪ fibonacci ward ( levels 3 and 4 especially due to the museums and things. but also the lowest levels, he tends to wander around there as if searching for something... feel free to try and figure out what it is ) ↪ cotes ward ( perhaps wandering by the castle when there aren’t people there, reading alone there or writing is also very likely. ) ↪ golden ward ( the university if only to borrow books from the library, he can read there for days at a time without sleep or food. he reads all kinds of things, both fiction and non fiction. ) ↪ archimedes ward ( pretty much everywhere in this ward, it’s my favourite. he enjoys music and art sometimes. hit me with that biblical shit. ) ↪ the mistwood ( 100% down to be that cryptic creature that leads you from your path to your likely doom ) ↪ the city of yesteryear ( typically the underground areas, just investigating really. any strange occurrences would likely draw him there as would any presence of a strong power. ) ↪ atop skyscrapers, looming at the ‘edge’ of the world we can currently explore, typically more active at night, perhaps at the scene of a murder / attack ( plotted ), if he’s feeling extra ballsy he might be found in a bar but its very rare. very VERY rare, wandering broken buildings, invading scientific facilities or buildings. he’s not going to be found in busy, socially strained areas basically.

↪ i’m down for any ideas you might have too for plots so feel free to just message me if nothing here caters!

STATS PAGE | APPLICATION | PLOTTING PAGE

#isola plotting call #「 LIFESTREAM ; OUT OF CHARACTER 」#long post

6 notes · View notes

zephyra-in-the-house · 6 years ago

Text

A Wolf and a Leopard Walk Into A Store... Sounds Like the Start to a Bad Joke

Summary: Noanric is a continent known for its unique culture and freedom from most anything. The only problem is that the country is young and its rules fail to hold back the humans from trying to overthrow the demons. Without official protection, many demons are falling victim to experiments to decrease their power and influence from the world. In the midst of this place, Vanoss and his pack are asked by the country’s leader to liberate a group of demons from a human laboratory close to their territory. However, Vanoss has been warned of a loophole among this chaos. Can he lead his pack to safety and discover the blue demon from the prophecy? Or will he suffer the consequences of a past long forgotten?

Hello Tumblr! It is I, you’re provider, your liberator from school, your friend and your author for this fanfic~ My name is Zephyra. What you’re seeing here is a work in progress and I have been uploading chapters for this story since July of last year on Archive and Wattpad. So far, I’ve already gotten through 14 chapters and, as I have it planned out now, there should be 55 chapters by the time I’m done. It will take a while, so I hope you guys are in for the long haul. Enjoy!

Notes for this chapter: This is the first time I have posted any of my writing. This is not the first story or fanfic that I’ve written, but it’s the first one I’ve made public. For the past nine years, I’ve been writing several books that I created and the universe I’m using for this fanfiction is based in that Original Universe. With that being said, there are different rules for some things in this story that I will have to explain before each chapter wherever the rules apply.

I do have a random upload schedule. My writing habits are flawed to say the least, but summer is coming up, so hopefully I’ll have more time to write longer and better chapters. I try to get out a chapter every two weeks, but my readers from other websites know that I haven’t been maintaining that schedule since the beginning of this year.

I encourage positive criticism and I would love to hear back on things that I could improve on or mistakes that I make.

This picture is my design for the Ev-Meister, the one and only VanossGaming. I do my own art and I will try to have cover photos for each chapter.

Thank you to the people who have chosen this fic. Be prepared for the long haul because This Is Gonna Take A While~

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

Most Recent Chapter: Chapter 3

Vanoss’ Perspective:

The stars danced in entrancing circles across the sky as I slipped through the shadows of the night. I paused for a moment, staring up at them as they blinked at me.

Around me, the forest shimmered to life. Shadows clung to every mossy rock and leaf. The slow breeze thrumming through the undergrowth sent shivers down my spine, making my fur puff out just a little more. The itch under my skin for dense rainforests and humid climates was tempered by the sounds of the night murmuring against my ears.

It was springtime in Noanric and, thus, still cold from the previous winter, especially where we lived.

Stretched from the northern tip of the world down to the hottest areas at the equator, there existed a continent known as Noanric. My pack and I lived somewhere in the middle where the trees were nothing but cotton or pine and the winters were sometimes long and harsh. Personally, the cold climate was the only regrettable part of settling down in this area. It was also the only compromise that everyone in the pack could make though.

Despite most of the pack members being from the feline family, all of us had grown up in different environments. Each of us preferred something different for a place to settle in, whether it was hot, humid climates or damp rainforests. Eventually, we stumbled across the territory we lived in now and it suited many of everyone's requirements.

Back when we all first met, having so many diverse people in the pack had caused a lot of arguments. On top of that, my alpha subgender caused a lot of authoritative issues, especially after I claimed the other two alphas, Marcel and Tyler. For a while, I was almost convinced that none of us could get along enough to be in a pack.

However, since finding our new home three years ago, it was a rarity to find a pack member in a bad mood. Of course, arguments weren’t avoidable all the time. Sometimes, fights broke out. Trying to smooth out disputes was probably the most stressful part of my job as leader.

I had always wanted to be a part of a pack, but I never saw myself at the head of it. For the longest time, I had even ignored the the itch for companionship that always crawled under my skin. Somehow though, I ended up being pack leader. Ever since then, I'd been even more anxious to serve my pack members to the best of my abilities. Yet, the stress still sometimes got to me.

Occasionally, for reasons like this, being the leader got a bit overwhelming. Then again, too much social interaction never failed to exhaust me. It didn’t help that both of my preferred animal forms were solitary creatures.

Luckily, because my pack was mostly feline, they were also solitary people. None of them minded it too terribly when I took these moments to step out and recharge my social batteries.

A sigh escaped me as my gaze wandered from the stars in the sky above to the trees as another gust of wind passed through my fur. I hummed softly when I felt the animal in me wake up the longer I stayed in my shifted form.

That night, I sported the fur of a black panther- A.K.A. a melanistic leopard. Normally, my fur was spotted and striped like any other leopards, but I changed it occasionally to suit my needs.

Not everyone could do this, mind you. I’d only ever met one other shapeshifter like me in my life, and he couldn’t do half the stuff I could.

Even though I knew I could shift into anything I wanted and make it any color I felt was the most appealing, I rarely used this ability. For the most part, I limited myself to my leopard form and, occasionally, my owl form. Other than that, I had no use for my shapeshifting abilities for anything besides races.

That night was one of the only exceptions I made to my rule though. Being able to blend in with the shadows of the night came in handy when I didn’t want to be caught by anyone happening to take a midnight stroll like me.

When I left the house, I had no real goal as to where I was going in mind. The only thing I wanted to do was to get away. Apparently, my subconscious had other ideas which I didn’t recognize until I glanced around to spot a familiar tree with gnarled roots nearby.

With a smile, I lifted my head to scent the air.

As I suspected, the first thing I picked up was the scent of the river that made up the eastern border of our territory. A thrill of amusement raced through me as I angled towards the smell and increased my pace to a light trot. Somewhere, I knew the scent would lead me to my favorite part of the river. The waterfall.

The sound of it hit me before the view did. As soon as I broke through the tree line, I was greeted by a blast of mist. It was one of the most welcome feelings I had that night, despite the air around me dropping several degrees. The cold atmosphere only grew colder as I paced forward to admire the scene laid out before me.

Just a few feet away from the treeline, the ground dropped away off the face of a cliff. Rivulets of water from the river rushed over the edge of the precipice and plummeted down to the pit below. From my vantage point, the waterfall seemed almost never ending. The sound of it was so immense that I couldn’t even hear my own breath over its roars. Even the ground below me trembled at its presence.

Below me, the cliff dropped down to a pit of water thirty feet down. The top of the waterfall sat several feet away, formed into a half circle, spitting water over its edge with torrential force. The rocky edges of the cliff stuck out in some places which created miniature waterfalls against the main stream of gushing water.

This part of the river and further down where the river meandered into our territory were my favorite spots to hang out, especially when I needed to be reminded of just how amazing life can be.

The waterfall felt so terrifyingly vast that I simply sat in awe for a moment. A waterfall can take a person and dash them to pieces in all the worst ways possible. Yet, they can be so magnificent in all their power.

The power vibrating through the ground was almost a comfort for me and, for once, I felt smaller than usual. For a moment, I wasn’t anything special or different. For once, there was something in the world with a power as terrifying as mine.

A low growl rumbled through my chest as these thoughts crossed my mind. I shoved them away instinctively.

Without thinking about it, I backed up to the tree line before launching myself across the stretch of open grass between me and the cliff. In one powerful motion, I flung myself off the cliff edge and plummeted towards the pit below.

The plunge was unlike any other thing in the world. It reminded me of a hurricane or a hail storm. The mist from the waterfall slapped me in the face as I plunged downward, my tail streaming out behind me.

It felt like I fell forever. There was so much adrenaline in my veins that it made those moments spent dropping to the water below stretch into unfathomable lengths of time. I had gone cliff jumping here many times before, but I was still taken by surprise when my body hit the water and the air was knocked out of me. The fact that the water was probably only 50°F didn’t help.

After a moment spent speeding through the water like a missile, I felt my front paws brush the bottom of the pit followed by the rest of my body. I stayed on the muddy floor for a moment before pushing off and propelling myself upwards. By the time my head broke the surface, the current of the waterfall had already pushed me out a ways away from where I had jumped.

The ground wasn’t too far down near shore, so I could easily touch. However, instead of getting out of the water, I paddled back out into the pool, relishing in the water tugging against my fur. It was still somewhat cold but, between being acclimatized to the temperature and the nature of my body heat, it didn’t bother me.

If Brian or Brock were around, they would look at me like I was crazy. Of course, their werecat forms had thick shaggy fur which dragged them down in the water so it was understandable that they didn’t like being in it for too long.

After a while, a cold breeze swept across the water, chilling the top of my head. I took that as my signal to get out.

With reluctance, I swam to shore on our side of the territory and pulled myself from the water’s clutches. I couldn’t stay in the water all night. Eventually, I had to return home and face my responsibilities.

Shaking myself, I sat down on the river shore and looked up at the sky once more. Above me, the stars continued their watchful gaze over me and a full moon glowed over the treetops. The sight made me smile. These were the nights that I enjoyed the most.

You could enjoy it more if you were actually doing your job. A voice whispered in the back of my mind.

I frowned and twisted around to clean a wet patch of fur on my back.

I’m just enjoying myself while I still have the chance. I argued.

The world rippled around me as another gust of wind spread through the trees and the grass.

Normally, I loved the wind and its playfulness. After jumping into the water in the middle of spring though, the wind was not as welcome as usual.

With a shiver, I stood and walked away from the river’s edge to a giant boulder on the shore. This particular boulder sat like a huge chair which faced the border of our territory on the other side of the river. In the middle of it, a perfect bowl had been carved out. It was just big enough for me to curl up in with room to spare.

Shaking myself off one more time, I jumped up and settled into the rock to clean myself.

Personally, I appreciated the position of the rock since it meant that I could watch what happened on the other side of the border while also being comfortable. My pack and I were the only ones who could see what lay on the other side of the river. Anyone on the opposite side couldn’t see us. In this sense, the barrier resembled a one way mirror.

The entire territory was designed like this. When we decided to call this place home, our physical boundaries were overlaid with tons of complex spells. These spells made them unaware of a mountain, or a river, or a waterfall just on the other side of the border. If they were careless, they could plummet to their death.

On top of that, if someone survived a fall, there laid a spell that incapacitated any human or demon that came across our borders. This spell could encompass a person’s mind, restricting them until they became delusional or incredibly weak, or it could attack a person's nervous system and paralyze them. The person would then fall into a coma-like state, at which point we simply had to carry them back out of the territory. Only pack members, along with some roguish friends, were immune to these spells.

There was only one spot that had no physical advantage on the other side of its border. It lay further north of the river. Originally, it was a hill, but we blew it out years ago to make a road for our vehicles.

For the most part, the pack used their animal forms to get around. However, when we went shopping or needed to blend in with the humans in town, we usually took one of the six cars that we owned. It was an expensive venture to keep so many vehicles but, sometimes, having that much transportation back and forth is necessary.

Despite having no physical advantages, the road exiting our territory was protected by our most advanced spells, some of which could immobilize any demon within seconds. No matter what, every part of our territory was protected in some way, shape, or form.

Lui, Marcel, and Nogla had derived all of the spells we used from older spells they knew. Every spell was a modified version of something much older than us and we designed them to suit our needs.

For this reason and many others, I held a great deal of pride for my pack. They were all ingenious in their own unique ways.

All the more reason for them to be protected. The voice from earlier whispered again. I recognized the presence of the animal within me, his alpha instincts coming out to play.

“I can protect them just as well by myself. Whatever she has to say is most likely irrelevant to their safety.” I growled back at the beast.

The leopard bared his fangs at me and began pacing back and forth, his heavy footsteps echoing through the confines of my mind.

You won’t know if it’s relevant until you talk to her. He argued. I shook my head and laid down on the rock below me.

The leopard had a point. Instead of swimming around in the water all night, I should’ve been at my meeting, confronting my responsibilities head on.

I didn’t want to though. The letter I received earlier in the week had me on edge. The way the whole thing was worded made me anxious. Their was something very important that would be discussed in the meeting that night, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

That was part of the reason why I decided to take a walk. I was avoiding my meeting with her until the last possible second. Plus, I knew that I wouldn’t have nearly as much free time after I talked to her.

Your responsibility is to your pack. The leopard murmured, his voice softening with sympathy. Situations where they are concerned take priority over your “personal time”.

I knew he was right. Deep down, I knew I was responsible for the pack and that my meeting could have everything to do with them. I had to go back.

With a frustrated growl, I stood and gave myself a rough shake before jumping off my boulder and heading back into the forest. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about being seen with fluorescent markings, like Marcel’s stripes, as I made my way through the undergrowth.

As if the simple thought had summoned him, the wind shifted to drag a familiar scent across my nose. The barrier behind me almost seemed to flex inwards, signaling the passage of someone through our borders. I stopped and waited as some rustling off to my left kicked up.

A moment later, a stocky white tiger came stalking out of the shadows. His fluorescent green and purple stripes slowly pulsed back to life to fill in the black in his pelt. His orange eyes were such a contradiction to his overall color scheme that I felt mildly surprised, as usual, when they too flashed in the darkness of the night.

“What’re you doing out here Evan?” The tiger asked quietly, his body slowly releasing itself from the shadows.

“Thinking.” I answered simply. The feline narrowed his eyes at me, his ears twitching with curiosity.

“So, the honorable leader needs some alone time to think about how important his job is. What a surprise.” He purred, his actions exuding intense amounts of sarcasm.

I scoffed and shook my head. “What are you doing out here Marcel?”

There was a slight variation in the pulse of Marcel’s stripes but his expression remained neutral. “I was looking for you, o great lafaino.”

The tiger lowered himself to the ground in a dramatic bow. I couldn't help but roll my eyes, my attention briefly catching on the shadowy bushes surrounding us as they fluttered.

“You were looking for me." I mused as a thought occurred to me. The tiger raised himself up and met my gaze levelly. "On the other side of the border?”

Marcel flashed his fangs at me in an animalistic smile. “Mini told me you might have been trying to find some tail out there.”

I snorted and flicked my ears at him. “There’s tons of food already in our territory.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The tiger huffed.

I rolled my eyes and walked past him, into the woods. His tail flicked my shoulder lightly as I passed.

“That’s exactly why I answered the way I did.”

Marcel simply chuckled and followed me as I headed back to the house.

Marcel was an interesting person- like most everyone else in the pack. I was fairly convinced that the tattoos on his arms were some symbol of royalty somewhere along the tiger bloodline. No matter how many times I asked though, he wouldn’t tell me what tribe he came from or if my suspicions were correct.

Marcel came to the pack years ago, accompanied by Scotty, in search of people who were “like him”- whatever that meant. The tiger had an interesting sense of humor and a thrilling laugh that left people feeling giddy. Sometimes, he had a different way of speaking, but almost every single person in the pack had a slight variation of speech or an accent to their words. No two of us were alike.

Marcel and Tyler both came to me in the search of being understood. The only unfortunate part about them joining my pack was that, because they were both alphas, they tended to challenge my authority more often than the others. Luckily, they complied in letting me be the leader of the group but I knew that, if they wanted, either of them could easily try to dethrone me.

I still enjoyed their company though. No matter what, everyone who had come to me and joined my pack or simply stopped by to say hi as friends was appreciated.

Smii7y, along with his mate, Kryoz, was one of those few random friends that stopped by every once in a while. Sincw they were our friends, our spells didn't affect them. I didn't know them all that well, but Mini and Panda spent a lot of time at their cabin just outside our borders. At least, they did whenever the two rogues weren't out of town on a mission.

The main group, Mini, Wildcat, Terroriser, Moo, Lui, Nogla, Marcel, Scotty, Panda, and I, stayed on the territory for longer periods of time. Some of the others took moments of alone time like I did, but we all lived in the same two story white house in the middle of our large chunk of land.

Seventy miles east of our territory lay the human city, Panlyog. It wasn’t my favorite place to be and most of the others agreed with me about that, so we kept to ourselves unless we needed something from the humans.

I was mulling over the plans to make a trip into Panlyog the next day when the wind shifted and Marcel’s scent hit me full force. Normally, I didn’t mind, but there was an ever so slight variation in it that night. I couldn’t quite put a claw on what that variation was, but it was definitely different in an unsettling sort of way.

I watched the powerful tiger carefully as he prowled through the undergrowth beside me. He was too busy scenting the air around us to notice my curiosity. Chalking it up to a flaw in my sense of smell, I shrugged off my intrigue as we continued towards the house.

Our house wasn’t hard to miss if you knew what you were looking for. It stood on a hill, pearly white, two stories above the ground and a basement stuck halfway into the hill. The only thing that stopped it from sticking out like a sore thumb was the thick copes of trees surrounding it in a 10 foot radius and the giant canopy of branches overhead. The trees were so thick in the area that no creature had ever attempted getting through it. Even the roof of the house was designed to look like the ground to avoid aerial attacks.

The only way in and out of the ring around the house was to go through secret passageways built into the bushes surrounding the area. The white building was our perfect escape, especially with Nogla’s collection of flowers planted all around the edges.

Marcel and I wove our way through the bushes and into the clearing beyond. I glanced around briefly, my eyes catching on a light in a window on the second floor and another coming from downstairs. The second light was too dim to be from the living room, so I assumed it came from either the kitchen or the TV.

As Marcel and I approached, one of the flood lights on the front porch turned on, revealing a wooden platform with three steps leading up to it. The porch stuck out a few feet from the front of the house with a table and several chairs sitting on top of it. Around it, several bushes and flowers of varying colors appeared.

Once we reached the top of the steps, Marcel and I began transforming back into our human forms. My transformation was easy because of my shifter genes, but Marcel took his time to rearrange his body.

For shapeshifters, transforming in a “puff of smoke” is the best description for a our transformations. Shifting is, for the most part, swift and painless for most shifters. Hence the name. Not everybody had it so easy though.

It didn’t matter how skilled or fierce a demon was. Almost every one of them had some difficulty with shifting. Some people couldn't shift fast without experiencing pain and others couldn't physically force a shift.

Whatever their reasoning, I didn’t find slow shifting very appealing, especially after listening to Marcel’s bones break, scrape, pop, and crack back into place for about thirty seconds.

“Ya done?” I asked with mock impatience as Marcel finished.

He rolled his eyes at me and chuffed lightly with his remaining tiger-like vocal chords. “Show off.”

As soon as we walked in the front door, the sweet smell of beta wafted over my nose. Marcel and I followed the scent through the open area inside the front door into the kitchen. There, we found Mini leaning against the stove with a cup of water in his hands. His blue-gray eyes lifted as we walked in.

“Hi Mini!” Marcel called to him softly.

Mini smiled and responded in kind but with more exaggeration on the quietness. After all, it was one in the morning and nobody likes being woken up in the middle of the night.

Marcel cupped a hand around his mouth and mock whispered, “How are you?”

Mini copied him with a smile. “I’m fine. How are you Marcel?”

“I’m good.”

“That’s good.” The two of them laughed before Mini’s attention shifted to me and he smiled anew.

“How’s the leader tonight?” He beamed while still keeping his voice low.

I hesitated for a split second. It was an innocent question, but Mini’s beta scent meddled with my head.

My first thought was to tell him the truth. I didn’t want to come home and go to sleep. I didn’t want go to my meeting. I didn’t want her in my head and, most of all, I didn’t want to take this mission. Everything that was about to happen gave me an awful sense of foreboding.

I wanted to tell Mini all of this. What I didn’t want to do was explain myself in front of Marcel though. Call it a superiority complex or an alpha’s complex, but showing weakness to another alpha didn’t quite sit right with me.

So, after a split second of hesitation, I responded with, “I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m good,” Mini replied, his eyes narrowing slightly.

When I didn’t respond with another “that’s good”, Mini raised an eyebrow and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. Marcel plowed on without noticing my internal crisis.

Fortunately, the tiger wasn’t really in the mood to give us a play-by-play about his adventures outside of the territory. Instead, he told Mini that it was quiet and that he hadn’t found anything interesting before giving us a tired wave and casting a “good night” over his shoulder as he walked away.

Mini and I responded in kind and watched the alpha walk up the stairs. As soon as the tiger was out of earshot, Mini turned an inquiring eye to me.

I sighed and sat down at the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I can’t sleep at night. You know that.”

The beta across from me slowly nodded before rolling his eyes. “Strange. I was hoping to finally hear about this piece of tail you’ve been seeing.”

I briefly glared up at him before turning my gaze down to my hands. “You know that if that was true, I would tell you or Moo.”

At times like this, I felt bad for my two betas. They both wanted me to find someone to spend my time with and date, but I couldn’t give that to them. The people in my pack were too much like brothers and dating humans was forbidden by law in Panlyog. All of my options were sort of closed and everyone in the pack knew it, especially Mini and Moo.

As betas, it was their job to look after my mental health. Betas are responsible for the mental and physical health of everyone in the pack. That’s why they are better at molecular regeneration and have a particular resistance to the illusions of their pack’s minds.

I knew it was harmful for my alpha within me to spend so much time alone, even if I was surrounded by pack members most of the time. It was uncommon for a subgender voice to be as strong as mine. It just so happened to be even more uncommon that someone who had an unstable alpha like mine was ever put into a position of leadership. Having so many conflicting thoughts and instincts was dangerous for me.

On one hand, I wanted to protect my pack. On the other, I wanted to find someone who could temper my demons. So far, I was having no luck with either option and that was bad news for Moo and Mini.

“I’m sorry.” I murmured, looking up into Mini’s face. He gave me a solemn smile and sighed.

“Don’t be. You’ll find someone. We have faith in you. We always do.” Mini responded easily, as he had done many times before.

I gave him a small smile before staring back down at the counter top. After a moment, a cup of water was suddenly placed in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed the faucet being turned on. Ignoring this fact, I murmured a quiet thanks before taking a sip.

“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight.” I admitted reluctantly.

There was a moment of silence before Mini coughed. I reminded myself to add cold medicine to the shopping list for Panlyog the next day.

“Why is that?” He asked in a slightly strained voice.

I reached up with my hand to squeeze the bridge of my nose. “I’m supposed to have a meeting with Ms. Evelynn tonight.”

There was a flash of surprise on Mini’s face. To his credit, it only lasted a few seconds before his face went back to a generally neutral expression.

After a moment, the beta nodded and took a drink of his own glass of water.

“Let me get this straight…” He folded his hands together before gesturing at me and raising an eyebrow. “You are purposely avoiding a talk with the one and only Zephyra Evelynn?”

I couldn’t help but give the beta a tired smile as he spoke.

“Somehow, you seem to think that that will go without consequence?”

I sucked in a breath to argue but stopped halfway through when I realized that he was right.

“Of course there’ll be consequences.”

Mini made a “duh” face and gave me wide eyes. “Ya think?”

I shook my head and ran a hand through my hair. “I just know that she’s going to give me some problem that I’ll have to figure out how to fix.”

“Oh right. I forgot. Responsibilities. Your worst nightmare.” Mini mocked sarcastically.

I glared half-heartedly up at him before making a face. He wasn’t wrong…

“Obviously. But she keeps coming back. This time though, I get the feeling that this case is bigger than usual.“

Zephyra Evelynn was the Kafaira, the continental leader, of Noanric. As the title suggests, the entire continent was subject to her jurisdiction.

Since she had such a large responsibility, Zephyra never traveled long distances. Instead, she set up meetings in letters and visited people in their dreams in order to share messages. That was one of the many unfortunate things about meeting her.

Meeting Zephyra in my dreams meant that she had access to my subconscious mind; in which case, it didn’t really matter whether or not I tried to hide any of my thoughts from her. She could hear everything I thought when she visited me. The only thing she couldn’t see was my memories, which is something I was always grateful for. No matter what happened, the powerful Demon-Wolf never failed to put me on edge.

Mini sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. “I understand why you’re avoiding it. Still, you shouldn’t shirk your responsibilities.” The beta sighed, giving me a sympathetic look before his expression turned sour. “Plus, you more than anyone should know that your actions have repercussions, especially with someone as powerful as Zephyra.”

Part of me winced at Mini’s implications, but the other part of me knew he was right in fearing Zephyra.

There was a common misconception about Zephyra throughout, not just the continent, but the entire world. Most people heard tales of her power and her incredible military feats as well as her political prowess and they immediately assumed that she was an all-powerful being that held the world in her paws.

Personally, I knew Zephyra wasn’t as scary as everyone made her out to be. Perhaps that came as a result of actually seeing her outside of the paintings and fairy tales though.

“Yeah, well, at least I can choose the time that we meet. I could stay up for days and avoid the meeting if I wanted to.” I muttered as I chugged what was left of my glass of water. Mini rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a child.”

“Yeah and you’re a man baby. That’s right. I just owned you.” I leaned back in my chair with a playful expression as Mini shook his head.

Smiling, the beta stood to take my empty glass and walked back to the sink. I scooted my chair out with a small hint of reluctance and followed him.

All jokes aside, I was still a little agitated, not only because of my meeting with Zephyra, but because I was reminded of domestic problems with my pack.

Mini was hiding something from me. He had been for months now, both him and Wildcat. I could feel that there was something wrong between them, but neither of them would talk to me about it. That secret was the only reason Mini would be up so late with such a tainted quality to his scent, and it was the reason he was sick at the moment.

I huffed a sigh and stuffed my hands in my pockets. “I can’t avoid it forever though. So, I might as well be a ‘responsible’ leader and go to bed.”

“That’s probably a good idea.” Mini chuckled as he turned around to face me.

I smiled before reaching out an arm, waiting for the traditional warmth. As usual, Mini endorsed me in a short side-hug. I considered scent marking him but decided against it. Tyler would be pissed if I tried that and, after tonight, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t have the energy to tease him in the morning.

“Get some sleep.” Mini murmured as we released each other. I shook my head and smiled.

“I doubt that’ll happen for me. That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen for you though.” I responded with a significant look at the beta.

He nodded and ducked his head. “I know. I’ll try.”

“Good night Mini.” I called as I turned to go upstairs.

“Good night Evan.” Mini responded as I walked away.

At the top of the stairs, there was a large open room that we used as a secondary sitting/study area. There were couches, TVs, and five desks crammed into the small space. On the left side of the stairs lay five rooms- each of which belonged to Wildcat, Mini, Basically, Panda, and Scotty- and a storage closet for blankets and sheets. The right side contained another five rooms- each of which belonged to me, Lui, Nogla, Terroriser, and Moo- along with the upstairs bathroom. All the alphas stayed closest to the staircase as a safety precaution. Therefore, I didn’t have to walk far to get to my room.

As soon as I opened the door, I was met with a sweet vanilla scent. I looked over at the desk on the right side of the room to see a tiny flame waving at me from the confines of the glass around the candle.

Moo must have visited. I thought to myself. With a smile, I glanced down the hallway to where his room sat. He knew me too well.

With a satisfied hum, I stepped inside and quietly closed my door. It was dark in my room, but I had no trouble navigating my way through the darkness despite the piles of messes all over my floor.

With careful steps, I walked over to the candle and gently blew it out before going over to my bed and flopping down. Admittedly, I was exhausted, so it was no surprise when I passed out almost immediately.

Notes:

I hope you guys enjoyed. I know there’s not a lot of plot related stuff right now but it definitely picks up speed here soon. This chapter and the next are mainly here to set the scene and do a bit of world building so, after that, it gets easier to read.

I need to explain a few things here. Firstly, most every demon has two seperate entities that live inside their head. They have the human side, split into a conscious and a subconscious, and the demon side. The demon side is pure instinct, containing every fight or flight response and all a person’s skill in everything related to survival. The human side is the rational side. Generally, the demon is less dominant and bows to the human in most cases. However, people who have anomalies in their instincts (i.e. subgenders or half breeds) tend to have a demon side that is equally as powerful, if not more powerful, than the human counterpart and that can sometimes be an issue. This is a common problem with subgenders because of the nature of how they were created, which I’ll explain at a later date.

In accordance to the dialogue that has quotations around italic marks, like whenever Marcel and Evan are talking in their animal form: I write these scenes like this because, when demons are in their animal forms, they don’t have a spoken language like humans. Their “speech” is actually a mixture of body language and sounds made in their throats (grunts, chuffs, and sometimes clicking of the tongue or teeth).

There are also two “need-to-know” terms which are: Kafaira and Lafaino. The first of these terms is simply a label for all continental leaders, of which there are seven in total according to each continent. The second refers to pack/tribe/clan leaders. The “o” and the “a” are relative to gender, just like certain words in Spanish. If either of the terms ends in “o”, it means the person is male. If it ends in an “a”, it means the person is female. There is also a third ending which is “e” for those who are genderless or both genders.

Thank you for reading <3

#bbs squad #terrormoo #minicat #switching pov #this is gonna take a while #fanfiction #mild krii7y #eventual ohmtoonz #eventual h2ovanoss #plot #so much plot #good luck #this is gonna be intersting #awaal #alternate universe

36 notes · View notes

stil-lindigo · 7 years ago

Text

beachside bonzoes

AN: hello everybody! this is something different to what i usually do so uh. please be kind. I was going to post this yesterday but with the cancelling of dirk gently i decided to put it off to today. i thought we might all need some fluffy rowdy time.

summary: the Oh No van’s AC breaks down and the rowdies terrorise a tourist beach. there’s family, anarchy and just the slightest bit of drummerwolf. also, the universe being super passive aggressive.

beachside bonzoes

Squinting against the bright, burning, sun, Amanda Brotzman downs the last of her water from her water bottle and groans.

‘Ugh,’ she mutters as she slumps back into her tattered passenger seat. ‘It’s like I’m drinking my own sweat.’

‘Ewww, boss!’ Vogel yelps in disgust from the backseat. ‘Now I’m roastin’ and grossed out.’

‘Gross-ting,’ Gripps’ voice is croaky from where he’s splayed out on the red seats, arm slung over his face. Cross lies beneath him, diligently fanning both Cross and Vogel with old magazines.

‘Toasting,’ he adds with a tired chuckle. Nearby, Beast emits a low growl.

‘We’re fucking burnt, boys,’ Amanda sighs and glances over at their shitty air conditioner chugging out metallic-smelling but cold air. Martin grunts at her from the driver’s seat before she can get a word out.

‘ ‘s on the highest setting, drummer. Ain’t nothin’ gonna make it work harder.’

Amanda groans louder and rolls the grimy window down, staring out at the passing landscape with a tangible irritation. This suffocating heat had been plaguing them for a few days now and the new, thinner clothes they’d managed to snatch at a roadside op shop were already filthy from sweat. The Disney shirt Vogel had been so excited about had been the first casualty and was now operating as a bright, pink sweat rag.

Martin, strangely enough, didn’t seem to be too affected by the heat. In saying that though, the boys had basically stripped down to their boxers the moment the temperature went over 40 degrees. Amanda still held a sneaking suspicion that the one reason they weren’t going commando was because of her and Beast.

At her millionth deliberating sigh, Martin taps her on the shoulder and silently hands her a cigarette, gesturing to the window.

‘Do I look that bad?’ she mutters wryly and he shrugs, a small smirk gracing his features.

Without any preferable option, Amanda leans out the window and breathes in the addicting scent of smoke. Martin uses a pretty shitty brand but it’s all she’s got and right now, it tastes like heaven. Like something akin pathetic fallacy – a big word she learned in high school that she never used again after graduating – a miraculous cool breeze sweeps by, ruffling her tied up hair so that strands break free from the hair tie and swirl around her face.

‘Thank you, universe,’ she breathes blissfully and then immediately regrets it because, as always, the universe just loves to mess with people. The moment the words leave her mouth, their air conditioner makes a horrible, sputtering grate of a sound and wheezes out a foul-smelling cloud of smoke. Martin smacks it with increasing severity and, after the third strike, knocks the grate clean off. The air conditioner does not restart.

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me.’ Amanda could cry. And she only cries at dogs dying and beautiful canyons. From the backseat, Vogel whimpers out a long exasperated groan that, with Beast’s help, quickly devolves into a strung-out growl.

‘The hell.’ The short, plaintive word is the only indication that Gripps isn’t dead.

Cross is already clambering over the others and pushes in between Amanda and Martin in the front. For a second, he squints at the smoking mess of an AC.

‘Yep,’ he grunts. ‘That’s busted.’

‘Fuck,’ Amanda drags her hands down her face and then snatches up her phone. As always, the battery is dying but it’s got enough. ‘Google maps, don’t fail me now. There better be a mechanic close by.’

Within a few minutes, she’s found one only a few miles away. It’ll mean a detour from their usual, instinct-driven route but if it means a working air conditioner, they’re more than willing. It’s when they’re only a few minutes away that Amanda stops mid-instruction at the sight of a sliver of blue.

‘It’s the ocean!’ Amanda bolts upright and sticks her head out the window, watching as a sandy bay sneaks into view.

‘What is that?’ Vogel, marginally less comatose, leans over Amanda and squints at it. From behind him, Gripps does the same and suddenly all of the rowdies are tumbling into the front and Martin’s screeching to a stop.

‘That’s one big lake,’ Gripps says. ‘Where are the giant ducks?’

‘That’s a lotta…’ Vogel fumbles for a word. ‘Yellow. What’s it doing there?’

‘It’s sand,’ Cross grins. ‘It’s wannabe dirt.’

‘That’s cool! I wanna touch it!’ and with that, Vogel’s out the door and running down to the bay. Whooping, Cross and Gripps follow, towing a confused and disoriented Beast behind them.

‘C’mon, Boss!’ Vogel shouts back around halfway down the hill and Amanda glances back at Martin. He shrugs.

‘Why not? It’ll cool them off.’ He says. ‘Go on and join ‘em. I can take the van myself.’

‘Really? We can always take it later.’

‘Sooner the better, right? Also-’ Martin pauses and runs a hand through his hair. ‘Don’t do well with sand.’

‘How Skywalker of you,’ Amanda smiles at his confused expression as she hops down to the ground.

‘I don’t get it.’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s a reference,’ she says. ‘But don’t go alone. At least take Beast with you.’

Ever since Blackwing separated the rowdies, Amanda’s felt wary of letting any of them go anywhere alone. It’s a paranoia that she’s just a little bit embarrassed by but she would be perfectly happy if she was never separated from this family – her family – ever again. Conveniently, Martin is an emotionally-aware vampire and, maybe its because of that that he lightens the mood with a low chuckle.

‘Don’t think I’m scary enough to get a discount on my own?’

‘You?’ Amanda laughs. ‘Scary? Absolutely not.’

‘Oh?’ Martin produces a cigarette and lights it, fitting it snug between his lips.

‘You’re too lovable. Like a big dog.’

He stares at her for a second, his jaw working around the cigarette, then shrugs, puffing out a wispy cloud of sweet smoke.

‘I can live with that.’

‘Boss! Look!’ Amanda turns at the sound of Vogel’s voice and comes face to face with a giant inflatable duck with some unfortunately drawn features.

‘Did you steal this?’

‘Nah, some guys threw it at us when we came near so we’re keeping it!’ Vogel’s face splits into a wide toothy grin. ‘It’s super cool!’

Behind him, Gripps comes into view, wearing a wide-brimmed sunhat and glasses with blinds on them.

‘Drummer! There’s a clothes shop here! It’s crazy!’ he yells, gesturing down at a small shack down by the pier. ‘Look at this!’ And with that, he pulls the cord on the glasses and snaps the blinds shut. ‘My world is broken!’

‘Okay, please tell me you paid for this,’ Amanda pauses as she takes in the sight of the curtain glasses. ‘Actually, don’t. Don't tell me you used real money to get that.’

‘It’s a cash bash!’ Cross jumps in between them, smiling wide as he gestures to his new baseball cap that reads ‘Money Maker’. Amanda knows her face is wearing an expression but she has no idea what it is.

‘Why,‘ she says.

‘We paid, boss! Don’t worry, we used the money we stole from those bad suit guys before!’ Vogel shoves a handful of $50 notes in her face and bounds away like a hyper kangaroo. ‘Let’s go fight a fish!’

Cross and Gripps whoop and bellow out their grunts of agreement and skid down the sandy bank. From behind her, Martin lets out a content chuckle and grabs a few notes from the bundle.

‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says. ‘Beast?’

The rainbow-haired creature scurries up and leaps into the passenger seat with palpable relief. Beyond her, Martin sits back, turns the ignition and the van purrs into life. Amanda’s about to join her boys down at the beach when-

‘Oi, drummer.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Woof,’ he winks, deliberately, his smirk matching the quiet intensity of his eyes, and then the van’s gone, barreling down the road.

It’s hot out, Amanda reminds herself as she makes her way down to the ocean. Flushed cheeks don’t mean a thing.

The beach-side clothes shop actually had a pretty decent selection, Amanda finds as she peruses their clothes racks.

More than decent, in fact. Some strange few could say that it was in tune with the universe.

After a few minutes, she emerges from the shop’s air conditioned depths wearing a worn-down ‘Mexican Funeral’ top and some skin-tight swimming bottoms. The top is thin and soft from age and the lettering is a bit cracked but, as Amanda flaps it to let a cool breeze in, she finds that it’s completely what she’d expect. The store clerk’s face had lit up when she’d handed it over for him to ring up – apparently the band was ‘super obscure’ but ‘totally underrated’ and it wouldn’t even be stocked if the guy hadn’t insisted to ship some in.

Damned universe. Too nosy for its own good.

I get it, she thinks to the universe as she sprints down to the water, picking up speed. Call your brother. But not right now. Right now-

And here, she kicks off her boots, her socks and jumps –

-right now, I’m cooling off.

With a thunderous splash, she’s underwater and the change is instant - the water is shockingly cold, biting into her skin like a knife before her body catches up with the plunge in temperature. Bubbles foam around her in clouds and she grins, giddy off the relief of the sea on her burning skin and watches water rush past her as she boosts herself to the surface. She breaks into open air to the whoops and cheers of her boys. They’re all around her, wet and dirty and sweaty and hers and she bundles them into a tight, slippery hug, laughing and shouting with them as they drag her into their rhythm. It’s dumb, this is so dumb, playing like toddlers seeing the sea for the first time but then she remembers the years she spent in fear in her dim, crusty room and – even more than that – the boys, for them, this might be their first time so she lets the world go and blows raspberries into the air. Cross squeezes their inflatable duck ring around her and he and Gripps haul her up and carry her towards the horizon, like she’s a queen on a yellow plastic throne.

‘We’re fucking insane!’ Cross howls over the crash of the waves and they roar, together, with their squeaking inflatable duck and handfuls of seaweed and wet sand. High off exhilaration, Vogel dives underneath and pops out of the water with a starfish in each hand, giggling.

‘You’re a star, kid!’ Amanda speaks like a talk show host and Vogel beams.

‘I don’t know what that is!’ he hollers and in an instant, the starfish are chucked back into the water and he’s leaping at Amanda, arms outstretched. ‘Capsiiiize!’

They go down like bowling pins, splashing back into the water. Amanda resurfaces, spitting out saltwater and picking seaweed out of her hair but she laughs and splashes Vogel right in his mischievous face.

‘You dick!’

The plunge doesn't seem to slow down Cross and Gripp’s momentum and they drag up Vogel from under his armpits, slapping him on his back good-naturedly before they promptly dunk him back into the water. Instantly rebounding, Vogel flaps around his wet hair like a dog and smacks a clump of wet sand into Cross’ hair.

It’s pretty dumb how much fondness she feels for these mud-slinging idiots. But she doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of their reckless energy, their chaos that pumps life through her veins. Friends, family - they’re her boys and Amanda doesn’t think she could love them more. For a moment, a weird anxiety finds her (an attack? no, although she hates that she still feels a stab of fear at the thought of them) and she wonders if they know – she hopes they know how much she loves them.

Suddenly, the ground is falling away and Amanda’s abruptly torn from her thoughts as Gripps unceremoniously chucks her onto his back.

‘Get yer head out of the clouds, drummer!’ he yells as he charges into the fray of the mudfight. ‘We gotta get some dirt on ya!’

With bellows and laughter thrumming in her ears, Amanda leaves behind her cloudy thoughts and shrieks out a giddy battle cry.

Grant Brantley has worked at his little garage for a little over a decade. And maybe its because his business is right next to a tourist-magnet beach that brings in weirdoes from all over that makes his new customers a bit more normal. The man’s fine (even though his disproportionately-coloured hair is a bit odd). It’s more his friend that puts Grant off. She’s got brightly dyed hair and kind of a-a pale sort of complexion and he thinks she’s shaven off her eyebrows which makes her scurry-walk a bit more off-putting. Also she keeps on sniffing his tools. He just hopes she doesn’t start licking them.

‘Hey, um – ‘he turns to the man who said his name was Martin and then did not give a surname which makes Grant’s job a bit more difficult because usually he refers to the lads as misters but now he’s just gotta say ‘sir’ which makes him feel like a chimneysweep or a needy orphan and in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s older than Martin but what can you do? ‘-sir, your uh…could you please ask your friend to stop sniffing the merchandise? I swear they haven’t gone off.’

It’s supposed to be a joke – an icebreaker, you know- but Martin nods, seriously, as if it's a legitimate concern.

‘Hey, Beastie,’ he clicks his fingers and the woman happily scuttles over, abandoning the outdoor display of wrenches. Grant thinks she’s talking to Martin but – god, she’s gotta be foreign, right? He can’t even understand what language he’s speaking. It sounds like she’s imitating a chain-smoking frog but – c’mon, Grant, don’t be mean, it’s not as if you’re a well-travelled bloke in the first place, what would you know about foreign culture. He chances a friendly smile at her and she returns it with a mouth of sharp teeth and a high whistle. Oh boy.

‘So,’ Martin clears his throat a bit awkwardly as he shifts on the step he’s sat upon. ‘How long will it take to fix the AC?’

Thank god, familiar territory.

‘Oh, it’s a simple fix, really. An hour or so,’ Grant scratches his head thoughtfully as he takes in Martin’s hulking van. He thinks those are bullet holes peppered into its graffitied hide but honestly, he’s dealt with weirder.

Upsell, he reminds himself, like those persuasive kids at the fast food places. ‘I could easily spruce up some stuff. She’s a bit of a clanker. And it won’t cost much more.’

‘Nah,’ Martin says not unkindly, and produces a battered pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his loose jeans. ‘Gotta get back soon.’

Grant politely flicks out a lighter before Martin can and holds the flame steady for the other man. Martin nods appreciatively and, miraculously, Grant feels a bit less wary round the guy.

‘Got someone waitin’ for you?’ he says as he unlatches the car door and begins to work. From the corner of his eye, he sees Martin smile to himself.

‘Yeah, a few guys.’

‘And a girl, I bet,’ Grant replies. ‘Or a guy,’ he adds, catching himself at the sight of Martin’s odd expression. ‘Either is fine. Or none. I don’t mind. Love is love and all that.’

He’s babbling now but Grant tends to get that way when he’s nervous. ‘Sorry, don't mean to impose. You looked mighty happy there is all. And don’t get me wrong, you can look happy about friends – I ain’t the type of guy to think we lads can’t have good, non-sexy relationships – but also, you know-’

Martin laughs a small laugh but it’s got some mirth behind it so Grant trails off and hopes his furious backpedalling worked. The white-haired man puffs on his cigarette and leans his head to one side in a bit of a conceding shrug.

‘Yeah,’ he allows, after a second. ‘Yeah. I guess it’s a girl.’

Martin doesn’t seem like he’s going to say any more on it so Grant doesn’t push it. Mentally, he breathes out a sigh of relief. Gosh, his big mouth has gotten him into problems in the past – he’s just glad that this time the weird guy seems alright. Might be the cigarettes. Hey, it might be a good idea to keep his supply stocked then, right? Right. Okay, good thinking, Brantley. Now suggest it without also implying he’s hooked because god knows you’ve come across some kooks who were adamant about their independence, honestly -

‘Hey, we’ve got some more cigs inside,’ Grant blurts out and gestures towards his little shop. ‘They’re right next to the cash register.’

Martin looks surprised for a second.

‘Don’t think I’ll steal them? I’m just a stranger.’

Grant shrugs.

‘They’re only $5. I’m not that hung up on money,’ he pauses. ‘Also I can see you through the window.’

The white-haired man huffs out a chuckle. ‘Mm. Smart building design.’

He stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and gives an appreciative nod to Grant.

‘Thanks, Mr Brantley. Might take you up on your offer.’

‘Might?’

‘Gotta check the brands first,’ he grunts jokingly and he makes his way into the service shop.

Grant turns back to the van and mentally dances a happy jig. He knows the type of guy Martin is – he’s met a wide bunch of people in this job – and that exchange was good, as in it was a Big Deal in its goodness. The guy feels less intimidating now that they’ve had that conversation. In fact, now he thinks he shouldn’t watch through the window in that half-looking-but-also-could-just-be-engrossed-in-the-rear-view-mirror way he’s cultivated.

The choice of whether or not he spies on Martin, however, gets thrown to the side at the sound a familiar revving engine. Grant groans and puts his head in his hands. Really? Now?

With a screech, a sleek, scarlet sports car rounds the corner and skids to a stop directly in front of the workshop. Its occupants, a group of four, tank-top wearing young men, clamber out with whoops and guffaws. Grant sees that one of their shirts simply reads ‘You Suck’. Another, who he knows has not served, is wearing dog tags on a necklace. One of the men, the shortest, steps forward and leers at Grant.

‘Hey, Mister Brantley,’ he sneers. ‘What’s up?’

‘Hello, Sherwood,’ Grant steps away from Martin’s van and approaches the teenager with a palpable reluctance. ‘Are you drunk again?’

Immediately, Sherwood’s smile is replaced by a snarl and he jabs an accusatory finger at Grant.

‘Yeah? And what the fuck are you gonna do about it?’ he hisses. ‘Don’t forget my dad owns these parts. You complain and I’ll kick your ass out of here. You’re already on thin ice with your asshat son.’

‘I’m –’ Grant sighs. This is the worst. ‘I’m not going to complain.’

‘Good,’ Sherwood sneers. ‘Go get me n’ my boys some smokes.’

Grant is about to go in when he remembers – Martin. The white-haired man is staring at him over the countertop, a new pack of cigarettes in his hand, and from where he’s standing, Grant can see he’s put down a $5 bill next to the till. The older man shrugs, overcome by embarrassment, and brushes past Martin apologetically. With a sigh, he begins piling boxes of cigarettes into a plastic shopping bag.

‘They ain’t gonna pay for those, are they.’

It’s more of a statement than a question really and Grant grimaces.

‘No. They’re not. But what can I do?’ He ties off the end of the bag with a forceful twist. ‘Charlie – that’s my boy, really smart kid, he’s gonna do great things – Charlie’s gotten into a fight with Sherwood over there. His dad owns this land and money ain’t real consistent – this is a tourist place, you know.’

Grant doesn’t completely know why he’s telling Martin this stuff.

Something about him makes you wanna spill your beans, he thinks to himself. Whether in fear or not.

A striking yelp jolts him out of his thoughts and his gaze whips to the boys standing in his parking lot who are currently fending off a rainbow-haired woman. He sprints out of the shop to find her – Beast – circling them on all fours and forcing them back with intermittent snarls.

‘Ma’am!’ Grant calls out, a bit lost. ‘Uh-ma’am please uh-’

Sherwood’s head shoots up at the sound of Grant’s voice.

‘Oi, Brantley!’ he shouts, furious. ‘Is she yours?!’

‘No! Sherwood, she’s uh – a customer- ’

‘A customer?’ one of Sherwood’s friends shrieks out. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘Bullshit!’ Sherwood screams and Beast answers with an even louder growl that sends the boys backing away towards their car. Sherwood levels an icy glare towards Grant. ‘Look at you, using this bitch to chase us off. You could’ve just given us the smokes, you dick!’

‘Sherwood, wait-’

‘Beast.’

Martin steps out beyond Grant who is currently fumbling for words and approaches the woman. She whips around at his footsteps but immediately softens at the sight of him. Grant’s close enough to hear that she says something that sounds like ‘meanie’. Meanwhile, Sherwood and his friends have already slipped into their sleek car and with a round of middle fingers, they’re hurtling away at breakneck speeds.

Grant still doesn’t know what just happened.

‘Oh boy,’ he whispers to himself and his legs fold under him. Martin looks over with a placated and somewhat remorseful-looking Beast beside him. ‘What a shitshow. Pardon my language.’

‘Sorry,’ Martin says.

‘Don’t trouble yourself, son,’ Grant gestures offhandedly as Martin takes a seat on the concrete next to him. ‘This was comin’ sooner or later. In fact, I wish I could’ve done it myself instead of your friend obliging.’

‘Mm,’ Martin hums in agreement. ‘That’d be a sight to see.’

‘You know, Sherwood really ain’t that bad either,’ Grant chortles at Martin’s expression. ‘Yeah, I know. He used to be an okay kid, though. I think he got messed up in something shady a while back and now he feels invincible. He just needs a bit of a wake up call.’

Martin wordlessly picks at his teeth, as if attempting to dislodge a morsel of food. Beside him, Beast swings back and forth on her haunches.

‘You scared, Mr Brantley?’ he asks, quietly. ‘Sherwood’s probably gonna go tell his pa.’

‘Oh yeah, I’m a little fearful,’ Grant sighs. ‘But you gotta roll with these punches.’

‘Damn straight,’ Martin claps him on the back and gets to his feet and stretches, yawning wide.

‘Tired?’

He shrugs.

‘Just ready for a meal.’

It’s around when Vogel’s finishing up on burying Cross in sand that Amanda notices the ice-cream.

‘Hey!’ she yells from where she’s floating on the inflatable duck. ‘Look! People have ice cream!’

At her shout, a number of people give them weird looks but she’s used to it by now. Weird is good when it means you get a strip of beach all to yourself. Gripps arises from the shallows where he’s arranged seaweed on his forehead like a wig and scares a nearby unwitting couple.

‘We’ve got ice cream here?’ he says. ‘Why aren’t we eating it then dying from brainfreeze?’

As if to demonstrate, Vogel flops to the ground in mock-unconsciousness, letting his tongue loll out of his mouth with carefree abandon.

‘Brainfreeze!’ he echoes and from underneath, Cross fist bumps his way out of his sandy casket.

‘Waffle cones!’ he yells and somehow produces a sun hat to slap over Vogel’s head. ‘They’re good crispy.’

Amanda’s already wading up to meet them, dragging her loyal duck behind her as she approaches the still partially-buried Cross.

‘You still got the money, Money-maker?’ she asks wryly and he slings off his cap to show the notes stuffed into the seam.

‘You know it, boss,’ he flashes a toothy grin. ‘Get me a bubblegum.’

‘Sweet tooth,’ she pokes him on his nose and he laughs, loud and mischievous. Suddenly, Vogel drops into Cross’ lap and grabs Amanda’s face by her cheeks.

‘Pineapple for me, boss!’ he grins from ear to ear. From nearby, Gripps adds ‘And boysenberry!’

‘Boys-enberry!’ Vogel repeats and giggles at his own joke. ‘Boys!’

Rolling her eyes, Amanda pecks Vogel on the forehead and revels in the brief silence that follows as he blinks up at her, beaming.

‘We get it, Vogel,’ she says then slinks out of his grip even as he laughs and whoops with the other boys.

‘Love you, boss!’ he calls after her and even though she groans from embarrassment and waves them away, Amanda can’t help the grin the creeps across her features.

Surprisingly, the ice cream stall doesn't have a very long queue – probably because Amanda and her boys only noticed it after the big crowds left - and she gets to the front sooner than anticipated.

‘Cool shirt,’ the girl serving her comments and smiles at her. ‘They’re a great band.’

‘Yeah,’ Amanda slaps the dollar bills down on the counter and thinks passive-aggressively to the universe to chill. ‘I like your septum piercing.’

‘Oh! Thanks,’ she giggles and flicks her long aqua-blue pigtails over her back, revealing her own shirt that bears a faded illustration of a Rorschach symbol floating in an eyeball. Unbidden, Amanda feels a smile spread across her face. Good times.

‘Do you want these in a box?’ the girl asks, unaware of Amanda’s thoughts.

‘Yeah, that’d be great,’ Amanda says and then, just for good measure, she winks and adds in a secretive tone, ‘As good as I am with my hands, four at once is a bit much.’

At that, ice-cream girl laughs, really laughs, and her tanned cheeks tinge with red.

‘Nice,’ she says and hands Amanda the holder full of ice cream cones with a smile. ‘Come again soon!’

She doesn’t even get a block away from the stall before Amanda’s already licking her own salted caramel ice cream cone. The taste of it is sweet and relieving after a day of fish and chips and trashy oil-soaked food. Also, she got a strawberry cone and flavoured ice cream cones are one of the better inventions of humanity. The slap of her store-bought flip flops on the burning pavement and the cold creeping through her body from the ice cream leads her into an almost-mesmerising trance. As she walks, she makes up a tune to hum and its like merging a few of her favourite songs together, a mashup of the metal radio station the Oh No Van tunes into from time to time. For some reason, Amanda wonders what Martin would’ve chosen from the ice cream stall.

Is there a nicotine flavor? she thinks to herself, wryly. But the thought brings back a memory from earlier that day – when Martin had given her the cigarette. And it’s as Amanda’s licking her rapidly melting ice cream that she remembers that it had already been lit and halfway done by the time he’d handed it to her. Which means -

‘Fuck!’ Amanda saves herself from tripping just in time and steadies the ice cream cones in their respective holders. There’s melted ice cream all over her hand now but there’s enough still in the cone that the boys will be happy. ‘Jeez, get yourself together.’

From behind her comes a piercing wolf whistle.

‘Hey! Sweet cheeks! Bend over again!’

Amanda’s eyes shoot open wide and she turns around excruciatingly slow to come face to face with two burly guys coming up behind her.

‘Excuse me?’ she’s trying to inject as much disgust as she can into the words, but apparently these idiots have skulls made of steel because nothing’s getting through it. They snort and guffaw at her expression. One air-thrusts at her.

‘Jesus Christ,’ Amanda mutters to herself then faces the two guys directly. ‘What is this, 2005? Get a hobby, you walking troglodytes.’

The men make mockingly awe-struck gasps. The air-humper steps forward to close the distance between them.

‘Oooh, you know big words! Doesn’t make you better than us.’ he says in a sing-song tone. Amanda considers stuffing her icecream down his throat and decides it’d be too kind. ‘And we were just being nice. Jesus, learn how to take a compliment.’

‘It doesn’t take much to be better than you,’ Amanda replies coldly. ‘Knowing big words like ‘troglodyte’ should immediately put me out of your league.’

The man’s smile falls instantly and he makes a grab for her shoulder but she’s already dodged and is considering kicking his incredibly kick-able groin when the familiar growl of an engine roars up behind her.

‘Drummer,’ Martin says in acknowledgement. Beyond him, Beast waves furiously with a new wrench which still has its price tag stuck on. ‘Nice ice creams.’

‘Thanks.’

Martin glances at the two men standing before them and his gaze instantly cools by a few degrees. Even though they’re obviously wary of the newcomer, the two guys have stuck around which either makes them even more idiotic than she originally thought or – nope, they’re just idiots.

‘ ‘s there a problem?’ he asks, his tone icy.

‘I don’t know,’ Amanda turns back to look at the pair of walking examples of toxic masculinity and raises a questioning eyebrow. ‘Is there?’

The two guys mumble something incoherent – probably an insult of some kind – but they hurry past, their pace quickening the longer Martin stares after them.

‘Troglodytes,’ she mutters.

‘Nice insult.’

‘I learnt it off a TV show.’

‘Even better.’

‘Oi! Boss!’ Vogel comes barreling up the hill and it’s only Amanda’s quick reflexes that save the ice cream cones from being toppled onto the pavement. He steers around quickly, leaping up onto the hood on the van in one swift motion and waves at the occupants inside. ‘You found Martin and Beastie!’

‘And you got my Bubblegum!’ Cross snatches his cone from the box quickly and immediately bites into the ice cream. His ensuing expression is somehow triumphant and regretful at the same time. For some reason, Gripps does the exact same thing for his cone and does not get different results.

‘Hey, drummer,’ Cross manages to say as he recovers. ‘What was up with those brickheads that were here just now?’

Martin clicks his tongue in disgust and taps the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.

‘They were peacocking, boys,’ he says grimly and the resulting wave of disapproving growls is deafening.

‘Way old school,’ Gripps mutters. ‘Way crusty.’

‘Damn tail-flickers,’ Vogel seconds.

Cross licks his lips and glares after the retreating forms of the two men.

‘Anybody else hungry?’ he hisses and the other rowdies bellow in agreement, already moving to chase after them.

‘Boys.’

And like that, they halt, shifting to Martin for direction even though Vogel’s foot still taps away on the concrete, impatient.

‘We got a bigger meal waiting for us,’ he smirks dangerously and the rowdies erupt in cheers and congratulatory roars, already clambering into the hollow depths of the van. ‘Ready for dinner?’

With a fond lick and snicker, Beast vacates her seat for Amanda and leaps into the back to curl up on the red velvet floor. Amanda settles herself into the leathery front seat, slams the car door behind her and turns the AC up to the max setting, whistling appreciatively at the blast of cold air sweeping through the van.

‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you?’ she grins at Martin and he answers with a toothy chuckle.

‘I get around,’ he replies then slams on the ignition, lurching forward and bellowing over the growing howls of their rowdies.

‘Now who’s hungry for take-out?!’

Amanda wolfs down the last of her Chinese food from its plastic box and sinks back into the sand with a content sigh. At her left, the six-pack of beer she bought at the convenience store remains submerged in a blue plastic bucket Vogel had stolen and filled with cold seawater.

‘Beer over sandcastles,’ he’d reasoned as he handed it to her. She couldn’t really argue with that.

It’s cooled down now that the evening’s creeping in and she appreciates the cool breeze. It’s a bit of a relief to relax after pummeling those frat boys into the hood of their own car. Amanda’s hand automatically twitches at the memory of swinging Beast’s wrench into the headlight and laughing as the glass had showered over her.

Kind of dangerous, now that she thinks about it. But she made it out unscathed. So it was probably universally predestined to happen. Amanda grabs a beer bottle and lifts it up to the sky in a toast.

Rest in peace, car, she thinks to herself then downs a mouthful. I barely knew thee.

Quietly, she reflects on the pit stop they made before returning to the beach: a garage owned by a Mr Brantley who she only knew from overhearing Martin’s brief conversation with him. Seemed like a sweet guy. Owned a decent brand of smokes. And he’d patted Martin’s shoulder like he was his dad, despite them seeming to be around the same age. Weirdest thing about it was that Martin let him.

The sun peeks out from behind a purple-pink cloud and she squints. Nearer to the horizon, her rowdies are still splashing in the ocean with their boundless energy. They’re the only ones still there seeing as most of the beach-goers had left around an hour ago but they make enough noise that it would be easy to mistake a crowd still remaining. The stragglers still tend to give them a wide berth and it suits them just fine. Struck by inspiration, Amanda sits up and she howls, letting her voice taper off into the sky. To her utmost joy, her family answers with matching enthusiasm.

One of them breaks off from the pack and lopes up to sit on the bank next to her. Wordlessly, she hands him a bundled-up dry shirt she’d been using as a pillow to dry off his sopping wet hair with.

‘How are you still wearing your glasses?’

Martin grunts and points at the green band tying the legs together behind his head.

‘Rubber bands. Versatile.’

‘Uh huh. But you still can’t see with all the droplets on them.’

He shrugs and ruffles out his semi-dry hair into a comically fluffy-looking mohawk.

‘Survived through worse. Remember the red goggles?’

Amanda laughs at the memory but the reminder of Wendimoor sends her thoughts towards someone else. She sinks back into the sand with a low groan.

Todd.

They’d parted ways after the Wendimoor escapade a few weeks ago and she’d promised to check in from time to time. But, somehow, the prospect of a first phone call after recently making up with him is scary as shit. The stupid thing is that she can’t even put her finger on what is so terrifying about it. They’d sent each other little dumb texts (mainly pictures of the new detective agency and then games of ‘Spot Mona in this messy workplace!’) in the first week and a half but even that mode of communication had died out. Yeesh. ‘Died out’. Bad choice in words, considering the trouble they got themselves into.

Speaking of that, Todd could be on a new case right now. Todd could be in trouble.

And yet, she still doesn’t want to call.

Amanda sits herself up, shaking sand out of her hair, to find Martin staring at her out of the corner of his eye.

‘What?’

‘I can hear you thinking there, drummer,’ he mutters softly. ‘What’s goin’ on?’

She runs a hand through her hair sheepishly.

‘I’ve gotta call my brother.’

‘Toad?’

‘His name is Todd. But Toad totally works. He’ll love it.’

Martin looks out thoughtfully towards the horizon.

‘You’ve got time. Phone’s in the van right now.’

Amanda chews on her lip for a second.

‘I mean. I could always do it tomorrow.’

‘Putting it off isn’t very punk.’

‘Oh, fuck off,’ she snickers and punches him in the arm good-naturedly. She’s 90% sure he doesn’t even feel it.

‘C’mon, drummer,’ he continues. ‘What’s keepin’ you?’

Her smile falters and her eyes dart down, away. It’s personal, this stuff, family stuff. But she’s gotta face this at some point, doesn’t she? And here, in the dying sunlight with a fresh pack of beer…

She knocks her head back and gulps down the rest of bottle’s contents, hissing as it burns on the way down. On her left, Martin watches her with a half-cocked eyebrow.

‘Okay, so,’ she slams her hands down as she starts but they kind of just disturb a sand pile which irks her a bit. ‘Me n’ Todd have technically made up but like, there’s still a lot of weird boundaries here and I don’t know, my head’s still not the greatest and I-’

She trails off as she looks over at Martin. He’s listening, really listening, with his eyes trained directly on her and his genuine intensity makes an irrational guilt rise up in her.

Stop sidestepping the issue, she tells herself and sighs.

‘I’m scared of getting close to him again,’ she says finally. ‘Old Todd was a complete shithead built entirely on lies. And New Todd is…new. And I know he’s trying. But I don’t know how New Todd is going to be.’

Amanda looks out towards the horizon. She feels tired, for some reason. There’s something else she wanted to say, something about her not wanting to get hurt again, but that seems a bit too cheesy. And, as she looks over to gauge Martin’s reaction, she finds her eyes meeting his and she feels like he already knows.

Damn emotion-sensing vampires.

He releases a gravelly sigh and looks out at the sea as well. His glasses have dried off somewhat and now they shine, reflecting the weakening sunlight onto his well-defined features.

‘You won’t know until you try,’ he says after a little while. ‘Give it a shot. It’ll be better than nothing.’

‘Will it?’

‘You don’t let opportunities pass you by, drummer,’ at this, he turns to her and grins. ‘You tie a note to a brick and throw it at them.’

‘…sweet talker,’ she mumbles because it makes her smile, as dumb as it is, and she props her elbows on her knees, trying to hide the dusting of red spreading across her cheeks.

Dammit, he’s right. Or she’s right. At some point, her wariness had lessened and now she thinks it’s the only course of action really left for her. The fear’s still there, simmering, but it’s tolerable. And god, she’s faced down psychopathic shape witches and, even worse, dudebros so what the hell. With a purposeful exhale, she dusts the sand off her knees and gets to her feet.

‘Okay. I’m doing it,’ she announces and Martin nods in encouragement.

‘It’s in the cupholder,’ he says and turns away, giving her privacy as she makes her way up to the van parked behind them.

Amanda’s grateful he doesn’t follow. This is something she needs to do alone. Desperately, she remembers what she’s about to do and her brain races to formulate a plan but, goddamnit, the walk to the van really isn’t that long and then she’s there, the phone is in her hand and she’s punching in Todd’s phone number.

Amanda breathes out a shaky exhale, her other hand clenching into a fist at her side, and then hits the green call button.

‘Dirk, there a lot of black cats out there,’ Farah explains exasperatedly. On the opposite side of the diner table, Dirk stops shoveling his strawberry pancakes into his mouth and looks up, eyes twinkling with inspiration.

‘Maybe we can make an ad specifically catered to black cats associated with a range of disappearances or gorey murders!’ After a second, Dirk’s beaming expression falters. ‘Wait, actually –’

‘Why are we even using our resources on this?’ Todd interrupts as he picks at his own scrambled eggs and toast. Farah gives him a pointed look.

‘Because it’s a liability! We’ve got to take care of loose ends!’ she explains. ‘And, maybe we can harness its-its sharkness and use that for ourselves!’

‘I don’t know, Farah,’ Todd mutters. ‘I don’t think it’ll be that easy to control kitten-shark. Because, you know, it’s literally a shark in a kitten. Like, what if we forget to take out its litterbox one day? Do we just get chomped?’

Dirk lifts up his maple-syrupy fork in his I-have-a-point-to-make way.

‘But Todd, I should say this,’ he says. ‘The kitten-shark did seem to like me. Maybe I’m the key!’

‘Yeah and what a shocker that would be,’ Todd says wryly and moves to pick up his fork so that he can eat more of his meal. Immediately, Dirk slaps him hard on his shoulder. ‘Whoa, what the hell?’

‘That’s. Mona!’ Dirk states deliberately and holds up an identical fork. ‘This is your fork!’

‘How can you even tell?’

Dirk blinks at him, wide-eyed.

‘It’s obvious!’

Before Todd can succinctly point out why that is such bullshit, his phone buzzes loudly from its place by his plate and he nearly forgets how to breathe when he sees the caller ID.

‘Holy shit!’ he says, snatching it up. ‘Oh my god, it’s Amanda!’

‘Oh, amazing!’ Dirk claps his hands together giddily and reaches for the phone. ‘We haven’t spoken to her in ages!’

‘Wait what? No-I-just let me-’ Todd hits the answer button quickly and gets out of their booth, striding into a quieter, more private area. ‘Amanda? Amanda, are you okay?’

‘Uh. Yeah. Just calling to check in with you,’ It’s thin and tinny but it’s her voice, not the voice of some would-be kidnapper, so Todd breathes a sigh of relief. ‘I call for things other than disasters, Todd.’

‘Yeah,’ he laughs, a bit nervous. ‘Sorry. Habit, you know.’

‘Right,’ she says and it’s kind of awkward but a background noise catches his attention.

‘Are those…waves?’

‘Yeah, I’m at a beach. It was super hot today and our AC broke so we’re hanging out here now.’

‘And how are your uh-,‘ Todd fumbles for a word for her gang. ‘-your friends?’

‘The rowdies? Oh, they’re loving it. They’re like, half naked and just fucking around in the water,’ Amanda’s voice gains a conspiratorial tone. ‘I’m including Beast in this description by the way so you can report back to Dirk.’

Todd sniggers as he imagines how Dirk would react to the insinuation.

‘Sounds like you guys are having a good time.’

‘We are! Well, most of us. Martin doesn’t like sand.’

‘Wow, very Skywalker,’ he replies and smiles at the sound of Amanda’s laugh.

‘Yeah, that’s what I said!’ she says and, yet again, there’s a short, tense silence. ‘So uh, how’s it going on your end?’

‘Oh, well, we’re at a diner right now: me and Dirk and Farah. Dirk got a huge stack of strawberry pancakes that he’s definitely gonna regret soon.’

‘Pancakes? Isn’t it kinda late for that?’

‘Yeah, Dirk says evening pancakes are a thing. Mona’s here too but I’m still not entirely sure what she is,’ Todd squints back at his booth from which Dirk furiously waves with a fork that could or could not be Mona.

‘Sweet. So no new case yet?’

‘Well, you know how it works. A case’ll come when it wants to.’

Amanda snorts.

‘Soooo you guys are just sitting on your asses?’

‘No! We-we’re trying to find the kitten-shark right now. Farah says it’s a liability we’ve gotta take responsibility of.’

‘Dude, it’s been ages. That kitten is long gone. Although, I guess you can’t really argue when Farah’s in charge,’ she adds sympathetically. Todd nods in agreement then realizes she can’t see him.

‘Yeah, she can be really scary.’

‘But also scary hot.’

‘Amanda!’ he splutters and over the line she breaks into laughter. Again, it devolves into a strained sort of silence before Amanda coughs a bit self consciously.

‘Um. How have you been feeling, Todd?’ she says. ‘The attacks, they-’

‘Yeah, uh,’ Todd continues. ‘You know, they’re a thing. But the pills help. Yep.’

A pause.

‘This is weird,’ Todd says.

‘So weird,’ Amanda seconds. ‘I need to be like, 200% more drunk for this.’

‘You’re drunk?’

‘How do you think this phone call is even happening?’

‘True. I should’ve guessed that.’

‘You’re part of a detective agency, man.’

‘Technically, the detective part is all Dirk.’

‘Doesn’t mean you can slack off, slacker.’

The ensuing silence is marginally less awkward. Todd counts that as a win.

‘I think I need to go soon,’ Amanda says quickly and Todd rushes to respond.

‘Oh! Okay!’ he says. ‘Um. Stay safe! And uh – wear protection?’

For a second, there’s just the sound of waves coming in from Amanda’s end then-

‘What. The fuck, Todd.’

‘I-I don’t know what you guys do so-!’

‘Are you fucking kidding m-’Amanda makes a soul-crushing groan. She kind of sounds like she’s dying. ‘We’re not, like, having orgies 24/7 or something, Todd! Jesus Christ!’

‘-you never tell me what you do! I’m just trying to cover all bases, here.’

Another silence, this one more weighted than the others.

‘Was that a fucking pun.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t believe you!’

‘That was not – I mean, I guess it was – ’

‘You made a pun about - ’

‘- it was absolutely not intentional – ’

‘Okay, I am definitely leaving right now. Bye.’

‘Wait, Amanda!’ Todd exclaims and exhales in relief as the sound of the ocean doesn’t immediately cut off. Amana breathes out a despairing sigh.

‘Yeah?’

Todd swallows down his nervousness.

‘I love you, Amanda. Thank you for calling,’ he says quietly. On the other end, the sound of waves. He’s getting used to the silences now. ‘You don’t have to answer or anythi-‘

‘Love you too, Todd,’ she blurts out. ‘Bye.’

And then she’s gone and Todd is left feeling oddly satisfied with what was, all in all, a very strange conversation.

‘Yes!’ he hisses to himself and skips back over to his booth. Dirk and Farah look at him expectantly.

‘Well?’ Dirk asks. Todd grins mischievously.

‘Amanda wants you to know they’re at a beach and Beast is half naked.’

‘Oh for god’s sakes – ‘

Amanda nearly cracks her screen with how forcefully she ends the phone call and throws the device unceremoniously into the glovebox. Jesus Christ, her face is still red and she buries it in her hands for a good few seconds, desperately willing away the embarrassment.

‘Wear protection’. God.

Still. That end part. That was okay.

With a sigh, she closes the car door and climbs down the sandy slope. Martin doesn’t seem to have moved but now he’s smoking a fresh cigarette and he gestures for her to sit down.

‘I’m guessing it went well, then,’ he says as she slumps into the ground beside him.

‘Well yeah but you are an emotionally-conscious vampire,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘No need to guess.’

‘You’re smiling, drummer. Doesn’t take my abilities to know,’ he chuckles as she sputters in embarrassment. ‘Aaand there it goes.’

‘You’re so...’ Amanda grumbles, turning away. ‘May sand eternally plague you.’

‘Mm. Very ‘celestial punishment’. I like it.’

In response, she kicks a wave of sand over his legs. Annoyingly, he doesn’t even move.

‘C’mon, drummer,’ he hands her a fresh bottle of beer from the bucket. ‘Truce.’

She squints at him suspiciously and then snatches it out of his hands. Appeased, he leans back on his haunches and puffs out a cloud of smoke, content. For some reason, it strikes her in that moment as she sips from her bottle how bestial he really feels. Not savage, not like that. It’s more like he embodies the slow grace of a natural hunter, a predator. Eternally watchful.

Amanda wonders, in her stupor of silent contemplation, if he came to her because she howled for him.

‘Somethin’ wrong, drummer?’

She didn’t even notice that he’d moved to look back at her.

‘Just wondering if we’re leaving soon.’

He shrugs and inclines his head towards her.

‘It’s your call. Remember, drummer, you’re the boss.’

She laughs, shortly.

‘The boss? It took me a whole day to hype myself up for a phone call. With my brother.’

‘You did it, though. That’s something.’

From him, the phrase somehow doesn’t seem like an empty platitude. Amanda stares at him for a second then sighs, conceding. And maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s how she’s so emotionally vulnerable after that phone call that she started waxing poetry. All she knows is that she suddenly feels very tired and she leans into Martin, her head sliding into the crook of his neck. His skin is still damp from the sea and the water seeps into her hair like cool, massaging fingers.

‘This doesn’t feel real,’ she whispers, her voice barely audible. ‘Any moment now, I’ll wake up in my bedroom and go through my list of pills to take and walk around my dumb, tiny house with the door that’s always locked and-’

Amanda trails off as she feels the comforting weight of Martin’s fingers stroke through her hair.

‘It’s real, drummer,’ he says gruffly. ‘We’re here.’

On any other day, this would seem impossible. But today, Amanda smashed a car, broke a frat boy’s nose, drank two bottles of bucket beer and made a phone call to her brother. So she can’t really help herself from leaning up and kissing Martin lightly on his cheek, smiling at the feeling of his bushy beard scratching at her skin. And then she’s on her feet and running down to the waves, joining her rowdies who welcome her with shouts and cheers, desperately affirming to her that this is her life, this is real, and she captures each one’s face in her hands and kisses them on their forehead, their nose, their cheeks.

‘I love you,’ she whispers into them and they hear and celebrate with whoops and laughter and glee and there’s no more silence. No more empty, cramped house in her mind, no pills, no lies.

It can’t be a dream. She knows this now. Her mind couldn’t have even imagined this, much less force it onto her in her sleep.

And then Martin is there, picking her up and swinging her around, his hand solidly placed on her back to hold her close and she’s wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing into his skin. She makes a deep happy sigh and giggles.

‘I am so drunk,’ she says and she falls back, knowing with an unfailing certainty that her family will be there to catch her before she hits the water.

35 notes · View notes

plungermusic · 3 years ago

Photo

“Kinda bent, but we ain’t breakin’… in the long run”

Maverick Saturday stretched out before us like a challenge - thirteen hours is a long time on your feet for a couple of oldsters, but we’d give it our best shot…

We didn’t catch all of Dan Walsh’s opening Barn set, but his closing number, a lyrical, backwoods folk-flavoured instrumental that peaked in an increasingly frenetic celtic reel to the whoops and stomps of the crowd, was enough to impress us with its fleet-fingered dexterity.

Kelly Bayfield made her second barn appearance with another stylish set drawn from the new album: Kelly taking to the piano to give us a new short number Sing which was twinned (“well, they’re a similar flavour, and in the same key!”) with her last single Hitchhiker, both oozing classy 70s chanteuse vibes and the latter closing in some great Telecaster work from Andy Trill in a majestic closing solo.

There’s not much that’d drag us away from a Kelly performance early, but having spotted his programme picture (“Long hair, Les Paul? That’ll do!”) we pottered down to the open air Green Stage for David Banks and his band. He did exactly what we thought it said on the tin: lots of Springsteen/Petty influenced muscular Americana with a dash of Molly Hatchett topped with excellent southern-fried guitar and classic ‘big endings’… marvellous.

He was followed by Simon Stanley Ward (another ‘old fave’) who brought his Jonathan Richmanish irreverence and wit to Old Time Country in Excuse Me While I Feel Sorry For Myself; the Graceland-African-style I’m A Worrier (”…that’s worrier, not warrior”) a swinging rock’n’roller Bigfoot, Baby (Eddie Cochran meets cryptobiology) and Rocket In The Desert (the salad leaf not the projectile) with its Lawrence Of Arabia theme tease. While lampooning his own assumed-Nashville twang in American Voice the accompaniment was as echt as you could want, and the deadpan humour of Beluga Whale was sung to a properly stirring Journeyesque anthem.

As it wasn’t raining The Green seemed the place to stay, where Forty Elephant Gang came next. Reviewing their album we were a little sniffy about their ‘crowd-pleasing festival songs’ but aside from the field holler-meets-O Brother Where Art Thou-style Songs Of Praise, this set was mostly the ones we’d liked: the relaxed Tex-Mex of Strange Things Happening with three-part harmonies and intertwining mando’n’guitar lines; the melancholic waltz of Young Man’s Game and the Squeeze-y domestic wit of Drunken Promise Song. A final ‘crowd-pleaser’ came in the chugging bluesy Hands Out Your Pockets, an instruction the assembled masses eagerly followed to add the required clap-along.

Sam Chase Trio made another appearance at The Green, wooing the larger crowd with both edgy humour (including praising UK portaloos in comparison to US versions, and introducing Everyone Is Crazy But Me as “a children’s song... now, what they mean is that it’s simple, since kids are generally at the dumber end of the spectrum”), and songs as varied as the fiery protest of What Is All The Rage and the haunting, wistful Lost Girl, (from the “Faustian Spaghetti Western Of Epic Proportions Known As The Last Rites Of Dallas Pistol”) sung by cellist Devon.

Now Plunger do like a bit of bluegrass, whether it’s grainy b/w Flatt & Scruggs clips from the 50s, through Sam Bush and New Grass to Béla Fleck and Greensky Bluegrass so The Folly Brothers should have been our kind of thing… however what we heard of them was more My Old Man’s A Dustman than anything Appalachian so we wandered off…

Back at The Barn Dean Owens and the Southerners drew a large and attentive crowd, but the popular Scot also left us a bit underwhelmed. Mellow, melodious troubadoury country that wouldn’t have been out of place on a mid-afternoon 70s Radio 2 show, the kind of thing that takes a deep listen in your bedroom to appreciate the stories told: very easy on the ear for sure but without any particular thing to grab us at a festival.

After an abortive attempt to catch Ella Spencer and her accompanist at The Moonshine (an extremely long soundcheck with problems with feedback from pretty much everything they touched meant we gave up) we caught a snatch of Los Pistoleros as we rounded The Green: probably the most C.O.U.N.T.R.Y. thing of the weekend, complete with draggy fiddle, pedal steel and old time vocal harmonies… if I’d not left my cowboy boots at home I’d have been out line-dancing with the best of them.

Plunger had only just seen Alyssa Bonagura (with Tim De Graaw’s band) less than a week since. Here at The Barn she was nominally solo but Tim joined her to add sweet harmonies and mellow guitar to Alyssa’s polished Cali-country: her strong yet ethereal vocal equally at home in slow emotional confessionals or giggly upbeat Big Yellow Taxi-style big strummers.

Listed only as ‘Dogs Play Dead’ it was only a lucky guess that took us down to The Green for what turned out to be Friday’s headliners Black Eyed Dogs playing a set of Grateful Dead classics. Mainly those with a countryish twist to them already, like Casey Jones, I Know You Rider and Friend Of The Devil; and bringing that flavour with fiddle and pedal steel to others like Truckin’, China Cat Sunflower, Playing In The Band and the epic closing Franklin’s Tower. All done with the right degree of loose, shambling rhythms and discursive noodling on guitar (and fiddle!) Fabulous stuff for grooving on the grass under what by now were glorious sunshine-filled blue skies.

Brooks Williams’ jangly sonorous acoustic and warm, smooth higher register vox was ideal early evening fare at the barn, in covers like Dave Alvin’s King Of California, traditional numbers like Deep River Blues and originals like the Gordon Lightfootish melancholy of Frank Delandry, and the damp-eyed nostalgia of Palomino Gold, aided toward the end of his set by some more excellent banjo from Dan Walsh.

The USP of Eddy Smith & the 507 is Eddy’s gravelly soulful voice, ideal for their bluesy-edged material, like the harp-led strut of It Don’t Feel Much Like Living and the new single Ticket Out Of Here, a bustling two-step with impressive three-part harmony vocals. They definitely have moved up a level since we last saw them a couple of years back.

Somehow we managed to miss Sarah Petite with her band completely on Friday, and almost all of her stripped-back Moonshine set on Saturday. Which was definitely our loss gauging by the brief snatch of crackling husky vocal over restrained bass and reverb laden guitar that we heard while hunting for a still-open toilet (a water supply problem having rendered all loos unusable for a considerable portion of the late evening... pretty much the only fly in the ointment all weekend!)

As the sun set the two-month date differential was beginning to tell: clear night skies in September aren’t quite the same as July and the growing chill was testing our stamina a bit. We headed for The Peacock and the tribute show to John Prine, hosted by Rich Hall. Pretty much every act who was on site came to do a turn in honour of the recently-deceased songwriting legend, with their own favourite from his oeuvre. Kelly Bayfield band gave us Hello In There, Tim De Graaw with Alyssa did That’s The Way The World Goes Round, Alyssa gave us the obligatory Angel From Montgomery, and Simon Stanley Ward (plus Kelly) gave a fantastic rollicking Lake Marie. Entirely in character, Sam Chase Trio broke the mould and gave us their own tribute song John Prine.

Rich Hall had to skip out on MC duties to attend his own set at The Barn: sacrilege to say, but the appeal of stand up (even to music, even from such a big name) palled a little. It was getting bitterly cold (you could see your breath hanging in the air) and given that what we could hear of his set was the same as we’d heard last time he was here we spent much the time attempting to warm up with piping hot beverages. However it was by far the rammedest set of the weekend, with the tightly-packed crowd spilling out of The Barn for some distance.

Jon Langford was unsurprisingly somewhat hindered by the draw of Rich Hall (which left The Peacock a bit underpopulated!) His spiky, punky approach wasn’t entirely our bowl of chilli, although the rendition of Eddie Waring (originally by Help Yourself with Deke Leonard and BJ Cole, who was sitting in with Jon tonight) was very good.

The programme description of headliner Jerry Joseph did its best to weaken our staying power too: with our deep suspicion of any write-ups that include the ‘p-word’, and somewhat incredulous of the mention of ‘jam bands’, Jerry looked like he wouldn’t be our kind of thing at all. However he didn’t live down to expectations (wholly). A very animated stage-prowling audience-provoking figure in shorts and no shoes, there was no shortage of energy even if it was largely unchannelled and could get a little wearing… (maybe it was that, maybe it was the chill, but The Barn steadily thinned out during his set, ending less than half full). War At The End Of The World was the pick of the bunch, although like most of his material it would probably have sounded better with a band (like, erm, Stockholm Syndrome, which he co-founded; or, erm, Widespread Panic who he has written for… so much for our ‘jamband incredulity’!)

While it might have ended as a bit of a test of endurance, there were more than enough high points to make Saturday another enjoyable Maverick experience.

“Did we do it for love? Did we do it for money? More like stubborn dumb persistence and hot chocolate, honey…”

#Maverick Festival

0 notes

becky8300-blog · 7 years ago

Text

3/28

Hello all! Sorry that I’ve really been slacking on blogging lately. I believe the last time I wrote I was in the middle of our stay in Batoufam, the small village in the West region of the country. I really enjoyed the rest of my stay there- which is a good thing, as I’ve made the decision to go back and live there for four weeks. Essentially, our academic program over the last two months has been leading up to the culminating point of my experience: a four-week independent research project/internship. Each student gets to choose a topic of interest and gets to choose where they want to carry out this interest. This means that, for these four weeks, I won’t be living in close proximity with all of the other students and with the SIT staff. I won’t be attending classes, either- instead, I’ll be organizing and carrying out a research project part time while taking part in an internship part time. The research part looks like conducting online research, carrying out interviews and handing out surveys, compiling and analyzing all of this data, and finally writing a 40-50-page paper explaining our findings. For the internship, I’ll be working at the chefferie, probably helping them translate documents into English and applying for international funding for projects they’re working on. Thus, this part of the program offers us the most independent experience we’ve had thus far. I’m honestly a bit nervous about how I’ll handle this degree of independence, knowing that the SIT staff who has thus far been instrumental in taking care of us and the other students who have become an incredibly important support network in my life will be 5 hours away in Yaoundé or in other towns where they’ll be conducting their research. Luckily, one of the students I’ve grown closest with will also be doing her research in Batoufam, so I’ll have that to look forward to.

The research topic I’ve chosen is to examine how the traditional system of justice used in Batoufam is reflective of the values of the Batoufam community. I’m not sure if I’ve already described it or not, but essentially the traditional system of justice here entails a large public community-wide meeting in which anyone involved in the conflict or anyone who has something to say about the conflict gets to say whatever they want to say. The chief hears out both sides, does a lot of consulting with other community members and with the notables, and then makes a decision. What makes this process, in my opinion, so different from the formal legal system we use in the US is its a) inclusivity and b) sense of community that it fosters. In terms of inclusivity, this traditional system of justice allows anyone who wants to contribute do so, including the offender, victim, and people who are not directly involved in the dispute. In contrast, the US’s legal system is dominated by lawyers who speak on behalf of their clients and outsiders are not allowed to share unless called upon by these lawyers. The second unique aspect is how this system of justice fosters a sense of community because its end goal is reconciliation, not punishment or blame. The decision made by the chief reflects this as it most often entails the offender making reparations to the victim and the community rather than imposing sanctions or punishments on the offender. This is all preliminary information I’ve gathered from internet research and from speaking with the chief and some notables during my week in Batoufam- I’m pumped to learn more over the course of a month! If you’re interested in reading my final paper, let me know and I can send you a copy. Fair warning- it will be written in French ;)

But, anyway: during my time in Batoufam I’ll most likely be living with the same host family, which I’m very excited for. They were so overwhelmingly welcoming when I lived there for just a week- I can’t wait to see how truly a part of their family I’ll be by the end of the month! One experience with them solidified this feeling- my departure. When we left at the end of our week in Batoufam, I hadn’t yet confirmed that I’d be coming back for a month. We weren’t sure, therefore, if it was goodbye for now or goodbye for a long time/forever. The morning of my departure, my mama cooked me a big special breakfast, and we spent 20-30 minutes as a family talking and laughing and taking tons of pictures together. Then, my papa called me into his house and gave me a talk about how they had genuinely enjoyed welcoming me as a new daughter and how happy he was that I had been engaging and seemed authentically learning about the culture in Batoufam instead of imposing my own western assumptions on them. He told me that I was always welcome back and gave me his contact information, instructing me to stay in touch. On the other side of the paper on which he wrote his contact information was written a quote he said often to me during the week: “un enfant qui voyage beaucoup devient sage et intelligent,” or “a child who travels often becomes wise and intelligent.” He then told me to wait a minute, went into his house, and came back out with five wooden bracelets. Four were matching, skinny, intricately made by braiding together strips of soft wood. The fifth was a wider, heavier bracelet with a pattern carved into it. My papa held up his wrist to show me that he was wearing two of the smaller braided bracelets, himself. He explained that these bracelets were only worn by the notables of Batoufam and were passed down from one generation to another to show that a family was honored and trustworthy. Usually they are worn by men, he explained, unless a man gives two to a woman to wear. A woman seen wearing these bracelets in Batoufam is then known as a strong, “grande femme,” he explained, someone who had earned the respect of a notable. He then presented me with the bracelets, telling me to keep the larger one and two of the smaller ones, and to present two of the smaller bracelets to a “grande femme” in my life. I have an idea of who I’d like to give them to ;) After, my mama joined us and presented me with a large bag full of bananas and avocados (the two fruits I had told her were my favorites when I first arrived) to share with the other students for the ride home. My mama and I were both definitely tearing up as I drove away. This experience has touched me and stayed with me in a way that I cannot adequately describe. Never before have I been so quickly and genuinely welcomed into a community, a community who asks nothing of me and yet is so willing to share what they have with me. I am sure that I have stumbled into a very unique little village here, someplace I could see myself someday calling my second home. Just writing this is making me so excited to head back in two weeks!!

I am writing this blog on our flight back to Yaoundé from Paris. We’ve spent the past week here, and it has honestly felt like a vacation (hence the reason why I’ve been slacking on writing blog posts). For years, this week of the program was originally spent in Bamenda, the largest city in the Anglophone region of Cameroon. Due to recent unrest in that region, however, the program substituted it with a week in Paris. Our academic reason for being in Paris was to study the Cameroonian diaspora, examining the economic, social, and political links between expats and their communities back home. To this end, we had two lectures from a well-known Cameroonian academic who researches immigration patterns of central and west Africans. Interestingly, the overwhelming majority of immigration that central and west Africans partake in stays within other African countries. Due to extremely strict (and high-key racist) immigration policies by many European countries, it’s extremely difficult for African immigrants to obtain visas. The pattern of immigration to France, more specifically, occurred in waves after the Cold War when unskilled laborers from former French colonies were allowed to bring their families with them to work in France. Since then, funds sent back to communities in Cameroon and other central-African countries from expats living in France have been an important source of income. Many expats also continue to be very involved in the politics and social life of their original hometowns. For example, on Sunday we spent the afternoon with Cameroonian immigrant families living in Paris. My host papa was a notable in the village of Batoufam, and my host mama was the head of a Batoufam women’s organization which organizes to raise money for various issues in Batoufam (e.g. they’ve furnished hospitals, sent computers to schools in Batoufam, etc.) Both of my host parents had been living in Paris for 30 or 40+ years, but despite this were still important presences in their home community. On the other hand, they also spoke of how living in Paris has changed their relationship with their traditions. I think a good analogy for this is the dinner they served us: rice, vegetables, and plantains (Cameroonian staples) with a side of French cheeses and French wine. Some of these changes, according to my papa, have been beneficial. They greatly appreciate the status of infrastructure in France, the universal healthcare system, and the access to education for their children. On the other hand, they have some regrets about not making more of an effort to hold onto their culture: their now-grown children have visited Batoufam only a handful of times and do not speak the language. While my host parents definitely identified strongly with being Cameroonian, their children identified more strongly with their French nationality. Overall, we were able to spend this week learning about and thinking critically about Cameroonian/central-African immigration to France/Europe: both how it can be beneficial and how it can be harmful.

I think that this week was specifically organized so that we’d have less hours in the classroom, giving us time to explore Paris as tourists. It was our equivalent of a spring break because there isn’t one technically scheduled into the program. This was my first time in France! (As a matter of fact, it was my first time in Europe, if you don’t include the layover I once had in the Brussels airport). We did lots of touristy things: ate crepes in cafés, took pictures in front of the Eiffel Tower, climbed the steps of Sacre Coeur, visited some great museums (except the Louvre- my friend and I spent 30 minutes walking/taking the metro to get there one day only to discover that it’s closed on Tuesdays. Oh, well- it’s a good excuse to have to come back!) I walked more than I’ve walked this entire semester- one day I walked over 11 miles! I also impulsively got a new tattoo while two of my friends got their noses pierced ;) By far, one of the best parts of the experience was the food: we tried everything from vegan food to Chinese to Moroccan to Italian to French, etc. Luckily, many of the students on the trip are just as adventurous in trying new food as I am, and just as enthusiastic about it, so it made for a fun time. It goes without saying that the wine was incredible, too. Overall, the week has left me feeling very tired and very satisfied, taking a guilty pleasure in being a tourist for a week.

It’s crazy to think of how quickly the program is going to fly by once we return from Paris. We have 1.5 weeks left with our homestays in Yaoundé to finish up classes, 4 weeks in Batoufam or wherever else people are doing their independent research projects, and then 1 final week in Kribi and Yaoundé doing our final presentations and saying goodbye. And then we fly home! One very exciting thing that I have to look forward to over the next 1.5 weeks is that my Yaoundé host mama is due any day now! I feel so honored that I’ll get to meet my new little sister or brother :)

1 note · View note

lonelypond · 7 years ago

Text

Casual Lunacy, Chapter 18

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3k, 18/?

We get some insight into Nozomi and Nico doesn’t have the night she expects.

Not So Casual Conversations

Eli enjoyed watching Nozomi cast cards from her Tarot deck. The sage would often concentrate hard enough on the cards in front of her that she would bite her lower lip, which Eli found sexy enough to make her forget what Nozomi was doing and sneak forward to kiss the back of her neck.

Nozomi twitched at the touch, but ignored Eli, except for scooting farther away from the bed. Three cards lay in front of her, Eli only recognized the middle one.

“What’s there besides The Lovers?” Eli wondered.

“Knight of Pentacles, flipped. 8 of Cups.” Nozomi touched the cards, fingers lingering on each. “Nico-chi’s fortune is boringly normal for nearing midterms. But a little worrisome.” Nozomi sounded concerned.

Eli looked at the cards. “You got that eight card the first time I saw you read. Was that about Nico too?”

Nozomi turned, with a gleaming smile, “Good memory, Eli-chi. But this is the Eight of Cups. That was Pentacles. And yes, that card turns up a lot for the ‘future star of stage and screen.’ It’s for the diligent, overcoming whatever problem with hard work.” Nozomi shook her head, “Which, although she would never admit it, is Nico’s defining characteristic.”

“But that’s such an important trait.” Eli sat down on the floor, next to her girlfriend.

“For someone less vain, yes.” Nozomi fidgeted with the center card and its 3 figures, the two lovers linked, “But maybe she will finally have someone to appreciate all of her qualities.”

“Is that what that card means?” Eli was curious. She wondered if Nozomi ever drew it for them.

Nozomi frowned, “The Lovers means PASSION, all caps, sometimes, but considering Nico just started dating, I think it’s safe to assume it at least means this new person will have an impact.”

“Impact on this?” Eli pointed to the Eight.

Nozomi picked up both the Knight and the Eight, “Irresponsible, impossible people and trials and exhaustion in a difficult situation for Nico.”

“The new girlfriend?” Eli sounded surprised.

“No,” Nozomi shook her head, “I don’t really get much from Maki, except concern for Nico. Raw emotions but very hard to read...” Nozomi face scrunched, as she lacked exact words, “untamed? She wants to...protect.”

Eli put an arm around Nozomi, “Do you riff scenarios based on insights you’ve had about people?”

“Eli-chi?!?” Nozomi pulled away, hand dramatically clasped to heart, “surely you don’t want all of my secrets?”

Eli stole a quick kiss, “Actually, I do. But I’m also curious how you’re being affected by…”

“Oh.” Nozomi winced. For a brief moment as the cards were laid down and started to make sense for Nico, she’d forgotten the trouble she’d been having.

“Sorry.” Eli’s voice was soft, contrite, her hand touching Nozomi’s cheek briefly.

Nozomi sat up straighter, “If I’m with someone, there are images that I see...random scenes and situations, people I can feel their responses to. The cards help focus it, the questions people ask help control what I let myself pay attention to.” Nozomi sighed, “Recently, there’s been a flood of random images or nothing. None of my centering and focus tricks help.”

“So were you thinking about Nico when you dealt those cards?” Eli was treading carefully, Nozomi had never been this open before.

“Nico, the situation with Erena, Hanayo’s worry…” a pause, “which is why I don’t think the cards read breakup for Nico, unless it’s with theatre.”

Eli laughed, “That would never happen. Nico is the most actress-y actress I have ever met.”

Nozomi smiled but the corner of her lip twisted downward, “And that’s all Nico-chi wants to you to see.” Nozomi picked up The Lovers, sliding all three back into the deck. “Maybe she’ll finally let someone behind the curtain.”

Nico expected they would walk in, Maki would change into something that showed a lot of leg and talking, cuddling and comfort would occur. With perhaps a warm snack before Nico went back into the cold. But no, from the initial Maki barking Nico through the security keycode to Nico refusing to follow Maki up the treehouse (“Not until Nico wears sneakers and the weather gets 50 degrees warmer”), mischief seemed to have seized Maki’s mood. And so now, Nico was in front of a large sectional sofa, in an emotiona; tug of war with an overgrown, very spoiled puppy, but adorable, which didn’t help AT ALL. Nico was tempted to try out her gymnastic moves and swing over the back of the sofa, putting furniture between herself and the bounding affectionate, wolf version of her girlfriend.

“No,” Nico pushed Maki back, Maki having snuck in a lick on Nico’s chin, “No petting until you listen to Nico. In human form. With non fuzzy ears.”

Maki sat back and cocked her head to the side, ears twitching, eyes sadly luminous.

“No pouty puppy eyes either, Maki.” Nico did scramble backwards, getting caught half way when Maki grabbed at her dress with her teeth.”

“Hey!” An indignant Nico tugged her dress free and the hem tore, “Nico loved this dress.” Nico dropped back to the floor, glaring, nose to nose with a Maki who had a piece of fabric snagged on a tooth, “Rude. If you want to date Nico, you have to use your mouth to talk to Nico. With words.”

Maki howled, with a pleading whine for punctuation.

“No. Nico said words.” Nico had one arm in front as a barrier and the other on the sofa as a pivot, if she decided to go over the top again. As Maki sniffed Nico’s arm, another voice cut into the ‘conversation.’

“Hello, Nico. Nice to see you again. Is Princess misbehaving?” The maternal Dr. Nishikino let her voice snap on “Princess.” Maki whirled, growling at her mother.

“Hey.” Nico snarled and Maki swivelled her head back to Nico, “Nico has more important things to do than watch you fight with your mother again.” Nico pulled the fabric scrap from Maki’s mouth, “Plus, still rude.” She grabbed her parka, nodded at the Nishikinos, and ignored a Maki who was frantically nudging her. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Nishikino. Sorry to intrude. I’ll be going home now.”

Maki threw herself in front of Nico, blocking the path out of the room, whimpering.

“Maki, let your guest leave,” The paternal Dr. Nishikino finally spoke, his voice stern.

Nico glanced over her shoulder, “I got this.” She crouched down, hands on both sides of Maki’s head, forcing Maki to make eye contact, “Listen to Nico.”

Maki nodded, only slightly but Nico felt it and continued, ‘Hanayo says there are people looking for werewolves. Talk to her.” Maki whined, Nico continued, “Two of them are working on Fangs. Nico doesn’t think you should come to rehearsals anymore.” Maki barked stubbornly but Nico only shook her own head. “I mean it, Maki. Nico worries.” Nico bopped a kiss on the end of Maki’s nose and her girlfriend yelped, “Call Nico sometime soon, pretty girl.”

Maki slumped as Nico let go and walked to the door, leaving a miserable werewolf behind to glare at her parents for interrupting a perfectly fun visit.

The Doctors Nishikino exchanged a glance. Maki’s mom pulled out her phone, searching for Hanayo’s number while her husband took their coats to the closet. Maki followed him, huffing disconsolately.

“Maki,” her father rested a gentle hand on her head, “You can’t just avoid conversations. They usually go better than you might expect. I bet Nico missed hearing you say good night before she left.”

Maki howled a complicated series of notes, mainly morose.

Her father laughed, “Try that on the piano.” He pointed up the stairs, “Maybe you should actually talk to Nico.”

Maki sighed and climbed the steps to her bedroom.

Verbalizing had always helped Nico but now it seemed to be draining energy she didn’t have. 6:30 a.m., sleepy siblings reluctant to let her leave seemed like both another day and another life.

Nico opened the door to the apartment, muttering, “Sure, super sexy, cute, smart girlfriend but what good does that do Nico if all she wants to do is climb trees and rip Nico’s dress. Nico had plans, Nico has lines to work on, Nico…” Nico might have let the door slam. Honoka had been half asleep on the couch and jumped. Nico snorted, imagining Maki doing the same thing.

Umi came out of the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, “Nico?”

“Sorry about the door, Umi. Nico’s had a long day. Hi, Honoka,” Nico flopped on the couch, staring at the Fangs script she’d left on the coffee table to remind her to study when she got home from work. Two hours later...Nico sighed and her head fell back to the couch.

“Did something happen?” Umi’s royal blue bathrobe had her name embroidered in gold. A Kotori touch. Honoka was still dressed, rainbow rugby shirt and denim. Nico guessed she wasn’t staying.

Nico glanced over at Honoka who was yawning, “Nico can’t talk about it right now.”

“Oh,” Umi leaned over Honoka and kissed her on the cheek, “You can sleep here, you know, Honoka.”

“You can have Nico’s bed, if you want. Nico will sleep here.” Nico slid toward the end of the couch, pulling the throw over her. If she were Maki, she could probably smell Maki on it.

“You’re too efficient in the morning, Umi,” Honoka whined, “You make me wake up and shower.”

“And you get to class on time.” Umi stated, as if that should be an obvious plus.

“Kotori” Honoka whined out the syllables of their girlfriend’s name, “was supposed to be here by now.”

“She’s not out hunting werewolves, is she?” Nico grumbled.

“Nico!” Umi’s glare hardened her eyes from soft honey to amber; Honoka appeared confused.

“Sorry. Nico is really tired.” Nico sat up, trying to look as apologetic as she could, “I’m having a snack. Want something Honoka? I brought back my mom’s banana bread.”

“Ooohh, thanks Nico.” Honoka grabbed the remote.

Umi followed Nico to the kitchen, hands and presumably also toothbrush shoved in the pockets of her bathrobe, voice low as Honoka turned on the television, “Why did you say that about Kotori, Nico?”

Nico glanced at Honoka, who had reverted to oblivious as she watched the evening’s entertainment news, “Just a bad joke. Nico is having trouble believing the last few days are real.” Umi nodded. “A friend of Maki’s thinks there are people searching for werewolves and witches and magic to study.”

Umi scratched her cheek, thoughtful, “Is Maki in danger? Are you?”

Nico shrugged, “She wouldn’t talk, stayed werewolfy, so I told her and left her to her parents after she came down to meet me at the Cup o’.” Nico’s phone buzzed, she gave it a quick glance, “And here she is.” Nico tossed the phone on the counter and unpacked the food her mom had sent with her.

“Are you not speaking to her?” Hands back in her pockets, Umi was practically professionally calm.

“No, Nico will call her back after I snack. She’s not the biggest problem.”

“Do you need help?” Umi was also practically professionally helpful.

Nico sliced the banana bread although Umi turned down the piece Nico pushed in her direction. Teeth already brushed, after all, Nico thought. “Maybe. Put it on the agenda for this week’s meeting.” Nico winked.

“I will.” Umi picked up a plate, “I will also bring Honoka her snack.”

“Thanks, Umi.” Nico stared reluctantly at her phone, “Nico has a call to make.”

Maki stared at her phone. Nico hadn’t picked up. Nico was probably mad about the dress. What a stupid thing to do. But instinct and impulse had triggered the lunge...and not wanting Nico to leave. She couldn’t call Nico again, maybe Nico was asleep...or talking to Umi...or....Maki growled in frustration. She should have transformed. But Nico smelled so worried and Maki didn’t know what Nico was going to say so it was easier to stay a wolf and not have to talk. Maki threw herself on her bed, grabbing the Neruda Love Sonnets off the nightstand. But she didn’t need to open it, the lines had lanced themselves into her being.

“I hunger for your mouth, your voice, your hair I silently hunt in the streets, starving...”

Maybe Nico was right and Neruda was a werewolf. Maki could almost taste Nico in her mouth, the texture of Nico's hair against tongue, soft but crisp with the magnetic charge that wouldn’t let Maki pull away. Why wasn’t Nico calling back? The light was on, but Maki had her eyes shut, her hands gripping the book so tightly it might have condensed to half its size had it not already spent part of its life boxed up under the weight of its fellows. She was spinning, pulling everything she could remember about touching Nico, being near Nico, kissing Nico…

"drunk with the great starry void, ...I felt myself a pure part of the abyss, I wheeled with the stars, my heart broke loose on the wind.”

And there it was, the music she could hear in her head, that had been coming through her fingers, pounding into the piano, all the knotted up empty that now echoed Nico, until those moments, those breaks, when crimson eyes twinkled in her mind and her fingers danced with light mischief across the keys.

Phone. Nico. Maki jumped with a yelp.

“Nico?” Maki didn’t shout but all two syllables of Nico’s name rushed out faster than she blinked.

There was a laugh, “Breathe, Maki. Hello. Sorry I didn’t pick up when you called.” Maki heard a door close, Nico must be in her bedroom, “Kotori just got here, so she’s talking to Umi. Honoka fell asleep on the couch.”

Maki’s hand trembled as she held the phone, she’d been rehearsing her apology. “I’m sorry about your dress, Nico. You looked so pretty in it.”

“Nico looks good in everything.” There was a pause, Maki wondered what Nico smelled like? Friendly, mad, plus that luscious tempting indescribable mix that compelled Maki to nudge Nico-ward…”But the next time, you want to get Nico out of her clothes, try it as a cute girl.” Maki found herself blushing and thinking about hands and Nico’s curves and…”Maki?”

“Thanks for calling me back.” Maki laid back down on the bed. She heard Nico yawn, “I missed talking to you.”

“And that was Maki’s fault, not Nico’s. Nico talked.” Maki could see Nico’s lips pursed together.

Maki flipped over, “I’m sorry. We keep getting interrupted.”

Nico sighed, “We do. And Nico is too busy. I have to memorize my lines and learn some scenes from Much Ado for class.”

“Much Ado?”

“Shakespeare. Nico has her Shakespeare class this quarter.” Nico paused and Maki could hear her drop onto her bed, "‘No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.’ Beatrice’s lines are better than Hero’s. And Nico hates fainting onstage. 'No, not till a hot January.' Nope, not for Nico.”

Maki was going to have get Nico’s reading list to make sense of conversations as Nico just seemed to roll through whatever she was thinking about if left unchecked. Maki decided to be bold, “Let’s go on a date. I’ll take you out to dinner. Any night. Do you like Italian?”

Nico groaned, “Nico is busy every night.”

Maki drooped, forehead in her pillow, “Oh.” Then she remembered, “My parents decided as long as I keep them posted, I don’t have to be home immediately after classes.”

“Good.” Nico yawned again, “But Nico really doesn’t think you should come to rehearsals. Did you talk to Hanayo?”

“Mama did. She’s going to talk to our lawyers too, to find out what Hanayo should look for.” Maki sat up, proud to have a plan to report.

“Good. But Tsubasa’s at every rehearsal and she keeps looking suspiciously at you, Maki. So Nico worries.”

“But Hanayo said they mentioned you too.” Maki held back the growl that started when she remembered the first time she’d forced sandalwood, bergamot, copper and too calm away from Nico. Apparently, she hadn’t been aggressive enough.

“Nico will be fine, Nico can handle her.” Another yawn and Nico had started muttering, “Meet Nico for coffee at Norris tomorrow, before rehearsal, 3 o’clock, pretty girl.”

“I’ll be there.” Maki smiled.

“Good. Maybe we can avoid our friends and talk.” Maki heard more Nico settling into the bed noises, “Nico is too tired to change into her pajamas.”

"They were very cute pajamas." Maki noted.

“Mmmmm…right, Maki slept over,” Nico’s getting comfortable voice purred along Maki’s auricular nerves. ”So what kind of pajamas does Maki sleep in?”

“Uhhhh...bathrobe, mostly.” Maki didn’t feel comfortable explaining that her tendency to change in her sleep made no clothes an easier option. Would that weird Nico out too much? Would sleeping in a strange....Maki shook her head, way too far ahead, but the feel of Nico pushing into her was coming back vividly again and the tantalizing, tempting breathy touch of Nico whispering things into her ear as tingles of urgency roved up her back, wild flares of...Maki heard a snore, “Nico?”

Another snore, and some random consonants mumbled. Maki giggled. Nico was probably adorable, curled up around a pillow. A different set of images came to mind as Maki remembered cuddling against Nico, watching that movie. She wondered how different that would feel if she stayed a ‘cute girl.” Nico would like it better. She might too.

“Good night, Nico. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Maki whispered into her phone, smiling at the unintelligible even for werewolf's ears response. Time to see if she could meet Nico in her dreams, Maki thought, grinning as she yawned. Neruda knew his stuff. “By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness.”

A/N And, I think that gets me back to weekly. Now, I have to finish Healing Hearts and then consider if I want a go at another holiday story, which I'll have to start now to fit around Casual Lunacy as there are still more chapters to go...

Wow. Still more chapters to go. This has been a very educational (and fun) experiment so far. I love the immediacy of the feedback (Thank you commenters!) and I'm astonished how often my plans are upended by Maki refusing to stop capering around as a wolf...but that's probably my fault ; )

Weather's gotten chillier, still working on that recommended fics list, hope this finds you well.

#nicomaki #Love Live #Casual Lunacy #nishikino maki #yazawa nico #werewolf #college #theatre #coffeeshop #nozoeli #fanfic #howling

32 notes · View notes