#i really am happy people enjoy my tag blathering too

[hydrachea]

You seem to be very confident, at least online, the way you dont give a shit about antis and are honest about what you like. You are probably quite chill irl. You have great taste in fictional people but there might be not a lot of interest in real people at all. You make people online (and hopefuly offline too)very happy with your honest way and it seems a lot of people enjoy your rambings in the tags. You have great taste in kinks (fuck yeah, eggs!!!). All in all i think you are pretty cool!

Anonymously message me what vibes I give off and why you think that

Honestly, I'm hoping I can get more people to stop caring about antis. They used to make my online experience hell and the fewer people can experience that, the better.

I'm honored you have such a high opinion of me, anon! And let's hear it for EGGS (which are such My Thing I got socks with an egg pattern on them as a christmas gift from a friend once).

[bastillewolf]

The Grand Tranquility Hotel (XIII)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: An eccentric hotel owner and an inquisitive writer find solace in each other when they both seemed to be at the edge of rock bottom.

Notes: My 100th post! Also, I’d planned on making this one chapter since it’s the last song left on the album, but writing it made me realize it was getting far too long. So, I split it. Hope you’re all doing well. Enjoy!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list.

@edgythought​​ @iwannabemorethanme​​ @he4rtbre4khotel​​ @juga-42​

Chapter XIII - Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino (Pt. I)

5 YEARS LATER…

 “Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, this is Mark speaking. Please tell me, how may I direct your call?”

“Yes, hi!” She quickly informed him of her name. “I was wondering if I could book a room at your residence? If possible, sometime soon.”

A moment of silence passed over the line.

“O-Of course, madam. It would be our pleasure. Would two weeks from now work?”

“Perfect. I’m not sure how long I’ll be staying. Oh, and I’m bringing someone, if that’s alright.”

“That’s won’t be an issue.”

“And- Could you do me a favour?”

“Anything, madam.”

“Could you book me into room 521?”

“Certainly.”

 She glanced down at her suitcase, taking a deep breath, before slamming the top down and sitting on it to be able to zip it shut. She had packed it to the brim, an unusual habit she’d started showing ever since she’d had to visit random book signings she would only know the location of later during the day. She had spent a while traveling, thus having this quirk grow into something more of a routine.

Her driver had been watching her struggle silently, noting the way she was fumbling with her hands as she put her coat on and nearly dropped her purse for the third time. When she finally looked up at him, he did his best to give her a reassuring smile.

“Are you ready to go, miss?” Matthew asked her. She nodded.

He held the door open for her as usual.

 The building was one she’d seen before on a picture, but only briefly, and she had to admit that she had underestimated the sheer size of it. It was not looming in any way; it was a place you’d walk into expecting to have fun. She could compare it to a billboard; massive, with bright flashy neon lights and something about it that made you turn your head to look at it.

The entrance hallway was decorated with a brightly coloured carpet and simplistic wooden furniture, and it was busy. People were gathered around in little clusters here and there, most likely just having arrived and others meeting up with friends. She was a bit relieved to see that the face behind the counter was not a familiar one, because she still hadn’t decided how ready she was to be in the situation she was today.

“Welcome to the Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino,” the clerk said most enthusiastically. “How may I be of service?”

She tried her best not to pull her nose up at the way he said it, instead opting for a polite introduction. “I’d called the other day; I’d asked for room 521?”

He decidedly blinked at her, before his gaze wandered her up and down, almost as if to check if she was really who she was claiming to be. Finally, when her brow lifted impatiently, he settled with believing her, because he said, “Of course, miss. I absolutely loved your book, by the way. If I may be so bold, would you sign my copy for me one of these days?”

“Of course,” she put up a polite smile, “You’ll know where to find me.”

Matt appeared behind her, lowering their suitcases to the floor. “Sorry I took so long. Couldn’t find a spot.”

“That’s alright,” she muttered, as he eyed the young clerk behind the counter suspiciously.

“Our sincere apologies, sir,” the boy told him, “The hotel is working on the plans to expand the parking lot.”

“Working on the plans? How difficult is it to expand a parking lot?” Matt quipped back, leaving the clerk trying to form a sputtering sentence which mostly consisted of a lot of uhms and buts. He rolled his eyes at the employee, simply reaching out with an open palm. “Just give me the keys.”

“H-Have a nice stay, miss. And to your mister, of course!”

She had no time to reply, for Matt was already guiding her to the elevator with his hand on her lower back. “You didn’t have to be so rude, Matthew.”

“I wouldn’t have to be so rude if they hired better staff at this hotel.”

“He barely said anything. You’re biased.”

“It was the way he was looking at you. I didn’t like it.”

She huffed, hitting his arm.

 “Are you joining me for dinner or are you going to sulk in this room for the entirety of our stay?” she asked as she glanced over herself in the mirror one last time. She’d put on something a bit fancier, having known beforehand what kind of restaurant the hotel housed. Luxury food for the luxury people.

“Those are two big varieties in time,” Matt commented from his strewn-out position on his bed, “I know I’m not joining you tonight, but I don’t know what I’ll be doing for the rest of the week. I’m not a fortune teller.”

“I know you’re not a fortune teller, otherwise you’d throw out some bullshit that you foresee that you will join me in other activities and then it never happens. Just promise me you’ll be a bit more productive. Join me on walks, you can bring out your camera.”

“We’ll see,” he said, as she walked out the door.

 Dinner for one, such a common theme for her during her life. When she lived on her own a while away from her family, she used to enjoy going to restaurants by herself. No one there to chatter her ears off, no one to take her attention away from the delicious food she didn’t have to cook for herself. She’d done it quite often, and still thoroughly enjoyed it.

Especially considering the fact that she had a best-seller book and a lot of people now knew her name, she couldn’t say she’d ever been denied a seat at a restaurant. Up until now, when a familiar man with a frantic look on his face was glaring down at his clipboard, going through people’s names and reservations.

“I’m very sorry, madam, but I’m afraid all of our tables are reserved. We could provide you with complementary room service, though-“ The sound of his voice had died down quietly during the moment he’d looked up at her and recognition had befallen him. His eyes softened momentarily, his hand wavering over the clipboard he was holding. They inspected each other, and both felt a mutual warm blanket of familiarity and respect surround them, as two old friends would.

Though it had only been a few years, he had changed a lot. Not so much in appearance; still sporting the long, curly bush of hair resting on his slim shoulders, which were covered by a velvety suit jacket. It was in the way he held himself. He looked so very much more confident, if not relaxed. The dark circles under his eyes were no longer as prominent as they used to be, and he radiated a hospitality any clerk could only dream of having.

“I could always just sit on the floor,” she said, her lips quirking up facetiously.

Nick smiled warmly at her in turn. “Actually, I think we’ll manage. If you’ll follow me, miss.”

He guided her through rows of tables holding chattering people, most adorned with a crystal glass of alcohol in their hands, seemingly in a state of pure and utter rich bliss. They reminded her of the very people she’d slandered at a particular gathering. She noticed them catching glimpses of her through the corners of their eyes, telling each other ‘don’t turn around, but there’s this-‘ or something of the sort. Because they knew what kind of person you had to be to get into an already packed restaurant.

She loathed them as much as they loathed her.

“Here we are,” Nick announced, pulling her out of her daze. He snapped his fingers, and she’d almost burst out laughing at the comical gesture until a few of the personnel came running through a door, carrying a table and chair, amongst a few other things. And in a flurry of motion, they’d set her in front of the window, adorned her place with the most intricate cutlery and dishware she’d ever seen, and had even poured a small amount of champagne for her to try.

When she’d agreed to the sparkling gold that slid smoothly down her throat and her glass was filled generously, they were gone as quickly as they’d come. She’d barely had time to get comfortably settled in her chair, or even blink.

Nick smirked at her clear state of disarray. She hadn’t changed a bit, and it made him more than happy.

In the time of her absence, Nick had seen a lot of people he’d known change. Some for the better, some for worse. It had hurt him to see it all. And thus, knowing it was her in particular that had her familiar ways rooted so deeply into the ground and still stood tall, made that wave of nostalgia something he wanted to cherish.

“I hope you didn’t have to cancel any reservation for this?” she wondered, “This table has such a good view.”

“Not at all, miss. Only the famous and our regulars get a special treatment.”

“And I am?”

“Both, really,” he replied with a playful lift of his brow.

She snorted, “Not as famous as you’d think, Nicholas. And certainly not a regular.”

“You are a regular to us, miss. You always will be.”

He made her heart flutter, drowning out the initial worry she’d come in with. “I suppose you’re too busy to join me, then?”

“Unfortunately, I am. But I will ask our head chef if he has time to go over the menu with you, and keep you a bit of company.”

She hummed, “That would be nice. Thank you, Nicholas.”

 Her gaze wandered over the many faces in the room, her ears filled with their nonsensical blathering, barely being able to make out the faint jazz band seated on the stage a little end away from her. She glanced down at her worn golden watch; the same one she’d carried around all those years ago. It was time for her medication, and if the time hadn’t told her so, the noticeably increasing pounding in her head certainly did. She plucked the bottle out of her purse, took one out, and threw it back quickly with a gulp of water. They never really worked, but a part of her always hoped they would. It was one of her last options, and even her doctor was getting frustrated.

She noticed him before he did her. And he looked good.

He was dressed in a black chef’s uniform, which looked like it had come straight out of dry-cleaning. Not a spot of grease or grime to be seen, yet his sweaty forehead which he quickly ran his handkerchief over told her he was still as hardworking as ever. Chef Cook, read in a red italic on the front of his shirt.

His blue orbs met hers and held a giddy sense of surprise to see her. He rushed over to her table, ignoring every singly person asking to have a word with him about his commendable food, and didn’t hesitate to give her a tight hug. Everyone who had tried to grasp his attention looked rather appalled.

She pulled back from him with twinkling eyes. “Look at you,” she muttered, “Chef Cook. All professional and organized.”

He huffed, “Professional, I certainly strive to be. Organized? I don’t think that’s possible. Not in my kitchen, at least.”

He took a seat right next to her, provided by one of the same waiters that had set her table up for her. “It’s good to see you again, miss. I’m really sorry I haven’t had the chance to call. It’s been a very hectic few years.”

She shook her head, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Jamie. I can tell how busy you’ve been, and how much it has payed off. It makes me happy to just see you doing well.”

“But it’s not an excuse to not have been able to thank you for what you’ve done for us,” he insisted.

“You would’ve been fine without me,” she waved him off, “The book only gave you a bit more publicity. The rest you did yourselves. Besides, I completely understand if certain… regulations made you refrain from calling me. That’s not your fault, either.”

He held a look of guilt; a similar one she’d seen at another time, another place. “Even if there were, I should’ve just picked up the phone. I just- I just didn’t think you’d want to talk to us again after the last time we saw each other…”

She furrowed her brow in confusion. “Why?”

“We certainly didn’t do much to speak on behalf of your honour, miss. I didn’t have words to describe what I was feeling, and I couldn’t say I was ready to defend you in that moment. And yet I wonder, after all of that, how you still managed to write any good about us lot.”

She placed her hand on his back comfortingly. “You did what you thought was right. I did something awful and have spent the past five years trying to make up for it. I’m only glad you still want to talk to me.”

“How could I ever not want to talk to you?” He smiled, “You’re our favourite guest.”

 They talked about a whole lot. He told her about how he met his wife shortly before the grand opening of the new hotel, and how they’d gotten married in the spring only a few months ago. He told her of how he had struggled with the new position he’d been given, considering it had been a while since he’d had actual staff work underneath him, let alone this many. And he told her of how he’d gotten through the reestablishment with the support of his family and friends, and how he often thought back on the old hotel, which still remained a hidden gem.

She informed him of how she’d gotten quite a few offers on the previous script of her book, though most of them seemingly more interested in the gossip than her actual story. When she felt she found the right company, she’d set the record straight that all earnings go to the hotel itself, which Jamie confirmed.

“The, uh- The boss didn’t want it at first. As you can imagine. But I knew you wouldn’t take the money back, so we had the old bathhouse in the Grand Tranquility Hotel restored. You should come see it sometime, it’s beautiful.”

“I’d love to,” she replied genuinely, “I’d hoped that old ruin would get its life back some day. It’s a place I hold dear in my heart.”

Jamie nodded in understanding. He hesitated, and she noticed the question lingering on his lips.

“Spit it out,” she huffed.

He smiled awkwardly, glancing up at her with his bright orbs. “How’s Matt been?”

She let out a sigh. “He’s been okay. Has been acting as my chauffeur, mostly, though he knows I can drive perfectly fine myself. He’s still looking for a job that holds his interest for longer than a few weeks.”

He nodded, reaching over to scratch the back of his head. “Is he here, too?”

“He is. We share a room.”

“Has- Does he ever mention us?”

She blinked. “No.”

She watched as his shoulders slumped in anguish, quickly adding, “But I know he thinks about you a lot. And that he misses you, even though he’s too stubborn to admit it. It will take him a while to be able to realize what he really needs and wants.”

He didn’t perk up much, but he gave a noise of acknowledgement that told her he’d at least taken her words into consideration.

“So,” she started, “how outrageous would it be if I asked you to make me a cheeseburger?”

He smirked. “Probably be the least outrageous request I’ve ever gotten from a guest, miss. Coming right up.”

 Her walk back to her room was slow, her belly not allowing her to take the long strides she would usually take. Her face felt slightly warm from the buzz of champagne, which she admittedly drank more of than planned, and her chest was full with happiness.

The people she’d been so anxious to meet had accepted her back with open arms, and it was a wave of gratitude and ease that had washed over her since then.

The moment she’d stopped in front of her door and glanced down at her watch, however, was not a moment of joy. She had forgotten her keys, and it was late, meaning Matt had most likely already fallen asleep. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes tiredly. There was no way she was going to bang on the door only for other guests to wake up and file noise complaints. Resting her head against the wooden surface, she thought about her unfortunate circumstance, and wondered how people did that trick with their credit card to break in.

Just as she was about to consider committing a felony, her ears caught the click of a door opening and a pair of feet shuffling until they momentarily wavered.

She met the chocolate brown eyes she hadn’t seen in five years.

Happy birthday, Miles <3

[elven-ariaera]

Read the New Leaf Diaries first here!

Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway

Day 7

Kitt moved in this morning. It felt so good to have her back in my life. I did not realize how nostalgic I would get already, but no matter what, I am sticking with my plan to move forward. Citytown is behind me, and Islandtown is my future.

I got a free tee-shirt in the mail from Dodo Airlines. Audie didn’t seem to care much about it and gave me a lecture on fashion. I guess she does know what she’s talking about. Maybe I should pawn it off on some poor unsuspecting fool…

Until then, all I can do is think about my life choices while wearing this dumb dodo shirt…

That night a terrifying thing happened. A tarantula appeared and tried to get Audie! Luckily for her, I had a bug net in hand. I crept up next to the little sucker and swiped my net! …Only to miss and get bitten by the arachnid. Luckily she dragged me back to my house and all was well again. 

You know, that’s a reoccurrence that I could never quite figure out. Whenever I am bitten by a spider or stung by bees to the point of passing out, I always wind up back in my home. Who is taking me there? Is that you, Antonio? 

Day 8

I caught a Whale Shark! I thought about doing a little more fishing after my excellent finds two nights ago and my word I’ve done it again! Sure it was the most ridiculously heavy thing I’ve ever had to reel in — I’m surprised the line didn’t snap — but I did it!

I brought it to Blathers to give it a nice new home in the museum. Let me tell you, finding a plastic baggie big enough to bring it in was its own challenge. He told me some interesting tidbits about the gentle giant. Learning can be fun sometimes!

Is that an actual option?

I had also been working on a garden for a while now and I must say it is really coming along! I’m so pleased… That’s it. There’s no punchline. Not everything in life is a joke! Can’t I just have a moment of serenity for once in my life?

Oh, I had nearly forgotten! Stitches finally moved in! I’m not sure why he was the last one to move in when I asked him first, but I guess he had a lot of things to unpack. I visited him to welcome him to the neighborhood as he unpacked and he was very persistent about cleaning the back left corner of his home… Even though the entire floor was coated in dirt.

In other news, Audie and I have continued to bond and I’ve learned some things about her. She might not be as innocent as I initially thought…

I didn’t realize you played Smash Bros too!

But then we got to chatting about movies and it turns out she’s writing one. A rock-opera to be exact. While I was genuinely interested, its plot was a little hard to follow…

Really, all the neighbors and I have been getting along rather well. I jumped in on a conversation between Bud and Kitt, though, and it seems they have rather opposite tastes. Literally.

All these wacky shenanigans that go on in this town, I swear, it’d make for some kind of sitcom. I actually just received a cartoonist set from Kitt earlier, perhaps I’ll try my hand at it sometime. For now, these journals will have to suffice.

Day 9

I had gotten a new room expansion for my house the other day and it seems that word spread quickly! Audie has been dying to come over and see the place since the first day, but now she has sort of been inviting herself over. 

It’s not that I don’t want her over, she’s easily become my best friend of all the island’s residents that live here. I simply want to gussy up the place before she comes. Still, she remains persistent… Is this what Antonio felt like about my persistence? 

…Man, what a great feeling to be loved and admired so much.

I headed over to check in on Stitches today seeing as he was still new to island life. He seems to be progressing rather quickly and is already doing stuff.

On another note, he keeps insisting that he has bug friends who live inside the floor and whisper things to him while he sleeps. Should I be concerned? 

Mabel dropped by today to set up shop in the town plaza. I always enjoy her selection of clothing to pick from. She’s also quite the trooper — It rained practically all day today, and still, she stood outside waiting for potential customers. I do think I was the only one though…

She just stands there… Menacingly!

Later that night Audie insisted on coming over again. I did explain to her that I was waiting for the renovations on my new room aka extension walk-in closet to be finished before anyone saw, and she seemed to understand, so we went back to her place to chat for a while. I found it a little ironic that she didn’t want me to snoop around her house yet she kept trying to persuade me to invite her over to my house… Does she have a secret shrine of me? 

…That would be so sweet! She’s the best friend I ever had!

We later went on a late-night stroll and things got real. I told her about my previous fishing escapades and she kept freaking out. It seems she has a severe case of ichthyophobia. 

Day 10

The resident’s hall was under construction and they have now finished and revealed the new and improved plaza. It looks magnificent! Nook had even gotten new help from off-island. He hired Isabelle, my assistant from back home. I guess Citytown isn’t doing so hot without me… 

Now I have no quarrel with Isabelle under normal circumstances, but I can’t help but feel that Nook is trying to replace me. I am your island representative, not her! Don’t you dare get any ideas…

Ugh, Isabelle, you make it so hard to hate you when you act so precious!

Anyway, it’s clear that I’m still the favorite of the residents. Stitches came by and gave me a house-warming gift even though he was the one who just moved in… Still, it was much appreciated.

I dropped by the town hall today to carry on business as usual, but of course, Tom Nook just had to rave about what a great help Isabelle would be. I mean, sure, she did let me change the flag because of my magnificent artistic potential, but that doesn’t change anything! I’ve got my eye on you, Isabelle…

Btw, the flag looks fabulous. 

Other business included the construction of a suspension bridge. Of course, most of that money was coming out of my pocket, but still, if it could save me from a pole-vaulting accident, I’d gladly pay the majority.

I decided to look for more resources to sell off-island and the dodo’s brought me to a wonderful place. They brought me to an island filled with rare hybrid colored cosmos growing all over! It was truly a sight to behold! My garden would look absolutely stunning with some of these added in the variety! Why haven’t these dodo-brains ever brought me here before? Oh…

In addition, I think my talk with Audie yesterday night helped her overcome her fear of fish. But I still don’t think she understands how fishing works…

Day 11

I still needed to make some money for that suspension bridge, so I thought a little bug catching and tree shaking would do the trick. Kitt called out to me, asking if I was having a fun time bug catching. She then apologized for assuming, and though she did assume correctly, I appreciate her earnest apology. 

We also opened a campsite today! To think, the future resident of my town would soon be here! Nook was very persistent about persuading people to settle down here, and I couldn’t agree more. I wonder what kind of animal they would be? I wonder if maybe… No. Certainly he wouldn’t be there…

Enough stressing myself out over the thought of my future resident. I also took another mystery flight from Dodo Airlines to see what magnificent isle they might bring me to today. Yesterdays “Hybrid Island,” as I am thoughtfully dubbing it, was a sight to behold. How could they ever top that?

In short, they didn’t. They brought me to an island where every fish in the river was a black bass. Every. Single. One.

I hate you all…

As awful as that experience was, I had to be grateful that the ocean fish were not all sea basses. Ugh. I shudder at the very thought of such a place even existing. Still, I complained to their manager. I had already booked a Nook Miles Ticket in advance, so their flight tomorrow had better be good!

All the neighbors today kept stressing out about the Happy Home Designers committee and I just couldn’t understand why. They give you nice presents if you do a good job decorating your home, right? Well, when speaking to Audie, she presented it to me in a whole different way. I’ll never look at the Happy Home community the same way again…

A friend of mine had invited me and another chum over to his island later that evening. It was a delightful night filled with picnics and hide-and-go-seek.

I also met someone. Roald. His eyes were so striking, I could not look away. With that and his chiseled features, one could easily… No. Stop it. You are a one-anteater kind of woman! Someday he’ll come back. I know he will. Until then, I must resist the sweet temptations of this gorgeous hunk of penguin. 

Oh, you lift? I can tell…

Day 12

Today’s the day~

We have a guest at the campsite! Oh, I can’t wait to meet them! I’m so excited that I had to write about it the first minute I got up today! This lucky fellow isn’t even aware that they’re going to be our future resident! Ooo, I’m so excited! I have to go! I’ll write more when I get back tonight!

I don’t want to talk about it. Ugh, but I have to vent somewhere, don’t I?

Our guest today was Graham, the hamster. Ugh. I do not like Graham. Why? He’s such a wannabe poser! He claims he’s a celebrity and uses corny terms all the time. He greeted me by saying “Bonjourno!” and later exclaimed his excitement by shouting “Guten Tag!” First — that’s not even the same language as you were faking before, second, you’re not using that phrase properly! Don’t think I’m not onto you, hamster.

To make matters worse, he doesn’t even refer to me by my name. He just calls me “Hey, you!” Do you even know who I am, pal? I’m more a celebrity than you’ll ever be!

Ugh, after that nightmare finally ended (for now,) I needed a bit of joy in my life. Stitches was the perfect friend to brighten my day. But then I screwed that up too — I thought it would be cute to give him a stuffed Panda Bear, and then I remembered he is a stuffed bear. Oh, my dear sweet Stitches, I am so very sorry.

Then Gulliver washed up on my shore again. Even he is aware of my excess loads of free time so, of course, I had to help him…

I decided it was time to just take a breather and use that Nook Miles Ticket I had. I looked the pilot dead in the eyes before we took off and said, “I swear, if you bring me to black bass island one more time, it will be the last thing you ever do.” Needless to say, he brought me to Bell Rock island today. I went to the island with 5,000 bells and came home with 87,000. I am one satisfied customer.

By the way, how does that work? I understand when I chip away at a rock and things like stone or clay fall from it, but bells? Perhaps bells are actually a type of stone valued so much by the animal people it’s used as currency? You see, I could accept that, but the fact that sometimes it flies out of the rock wrapped in little bags, it just baffles me!

Well, with all my profits from that trip I managed to pay for another bridge. Audie and I were discussing how this would benefit us by not having to use the vaulting poles anymore.

Also, Kitt hurt my feelings today too. She said that my style was basic. She could see I was a bit upset by this, so she covered it up by saying she meant I wore basics well, but I knew what she really meant. I’m starting to remember why I let her move from Citytown…

Yeah, well, your hat doesn’t match your jacket!

Though this day was full of ups and downs, the final part of my story ends with the highest high one could feel. Later in the evening, I thought I should attempt to find the rumored Tarantula Island. I haven’t had any luck finding a specimen for the museum, so certainly I would be able to find one in a place literally named after the creature. But I did not find the island. However, what I found was even better. Love.

I got off the plane, and lo and behold, there he was. My precious, my darling — Antonio was there! I ran to his side, thrilled to see him, nearly jumping into his arms — but I controlled myself.

We talked and talked, catching up on life since we last saw each other. It turned out he was doing a survival training challenge, which is why he was out on the island. Typical Antonio. Still, his training was doing him wonders, ooh, those muscles!

He also noticed how much I have been toning myself as well, what with all this island hopping and hard labor Nook tasks me with.

He off-hand mentioned that he’d love to his island training full time, so I took the opportunity and asked him to move in with me— I mean, to Islandtown. After everything that had happened between us, I thought perhaps I came on a bit too strong, but he answered in the affirmative. Antonio, sweet, sweet, Antonio, is going to be part of my village once again!

Despite all the bad things that happened today, I can rest easy knowing my favorite animal is going to be with me.

Day 13

Graham was the first one to move in today, but Antonio will be here tomorrow! I’m so excited! Audie and I got together and talked about it all morning. It was funny because she was watching a romance movie the day before and had an inkling something special might happen!

But sadly, poor little Stitches was sick today! I immediately ran over when Kitt told me the news and brought him some medicine. He was feeling a lot better afterward, but I told him he should still rest inside for the day.

I proceeded from there to go to the Town Hall as Tom Nook had requested for my assistance — MY assistance, not Isabelle’s… Okay, Isabelle’s too. Ugh.

If you think for one second that I’m your task force you’ve got another thing coming…

Anyway, the two of them asked me to keep inviting new residents to live in our town. Easy enough! I knew plenty of people from back home who would love to live here! I called up my girl Whitney from back home and invited her to camp out with us here on the island. I figured we’d hang out a bit and then I’d ask her about moving in.

She was thrilled when I called her and came over immediately. We had such a good time catching up, it’s been so long! These past few days have been overwhelming me with emotion with so many familiar faces.

However, when I mentioned that Whitney should move to Islandtown, she didn’t say no, but she didn’t quite feel ready yet. I get it. Citytown is a great place. I mean, it’s less great now that I’m not mayor anymore, but it’s still pretty cool. I’ll invite her over again after she’s thought it over a bit.

Oh! With my garden doing so well, I decided to set up my own little flower shop right outside my house. I stood there for three hours today and not a single customer. Mabel, I applaud your patience and durability.

I was hoping to raise a bit of money through this stand to set up a bridge. You see, when I picked a spot for Antonio’s house to be, I didn’t realize he had no connection to the other parts of the island. It was imperative that I got this bridge funded and finished by tonight. Luckily I had some help from friends to donate enough bells for the project to be completed. It took a lot of hard work and a lot of fishing…

But it will all be worth it. Tomorrow, my prince charming moves to town. 

A Residents Representatives work is never done! With so many tasks to complete and more residents moving in, how will our solo human villager handle the heat? Read the New Leaf Diaries first here! Start from NH Diaries part 1: Permanent Island Getaway…

[endemictoearth]

About Town Pt. 2

AT LONG LAST! (And I’ve written more than a sentence of the next part, which was my mistake with my first part . . . so you WILL NOT have to wait six freaking months for Part 3.)

I have so many fics in my tabs and need to do a lot of reading/reblogging, but decided I didn’t want to let another month go by where I wasn’t contributing! 

I have gotten some lovely messages about this fic, in particular, so I hope part 2 lives up to expectations . . . there will be at least one more part, but this isn’t a traditional Frae fic. 

I hope you enjoy! (I will be putting this on the Round-Up forthwith, but am not tagging, bc I’m not sure who wants to be tagged anymore . . . )

(Oh, and to refresh your memories, here’s a link to Part 1.)

* * * * *

On Tuesday after school, Finn was back at the shop. Both Rob and Dave were there, sorting through the delivery of new stock.

Finn dropped his bag behind the counter, and they grunted a unison greeting without looking up. Finn smirked, immediately getting stuck in to the stock, as well.

He wanted to say something about Saturday, about how he had seen Rae, how he knew . . . something. He knew where she was, but not why she was there. He knew what she looked like with the sun at her back, but not how she felt about . . . well, anything. He’d got a couple pieces of a 1000 piece jigsaw, and he just wanted to keep gathering more, fit them together into a complete picture.

But when he went to say something, it was like there wasn’t enough air in the room, or maybe just in his lungs. He tried to take a deep breath, but only managed a deflated sigh.

“What’s up wi’ you?” Dave asked, his tone tinged with the typical ‘just us lads’ harshness. The default reply to any question about how one was should be some form of shrug, grunt or “Alright, I s’pose.” No highs or lows were allowed . . . this was a mellow space for cool people.

Rob elbowed Dave in the arm. “Shut up, mate—his nan’s ill,” he said in undertones. Finn had to strain to make it out, and when he did, he flushed.

“How’s your nan, Finn? She still on the ward? They looking after her alright?”

Rob was good people, Finn thought.

He nodded. “She’s not doing too bad; at least, she hasn’t gotten any worse.”

“Glad to hear it,” Rob nodded.

Dave frowned and kicked an empty box toward the backroom door. “Sorry to hear about your nan, Finn. But it’s good they’re lookin’ after her properly.”

Finn nodded again. He leant down to pick up another box, and when he straightened back up to place it on the counter, he said, “Funny thing, though . . .” and had the immediate interest of the other two.

“Yeah?” asked Rob, sorting through a load of used cds. Though he wasn’t looking at him, Finn could tell he had his attention.

Finn stammered, “I-it’s weird, ‘cause we were just talking about her, but when I were at the hospital, I run into—erm—Rae, y’know, Saturday Rae? The . . . girl who hasn’t been by in a while.”

He cleared his throat into the silent shop.

Rob looked up, and tried to read Finn’s face. “Oh, yeah? Was she . . . ?” he didn’t seem to know what to ask, but Finn could guess his question. Was she a patient or was she visiting someone?

“She had a bracelet on. I think . . . I think she’s been there this whole time.” Finn exhaled a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Dave coughed pointedly. He’d never been good with words, Dave. Even worse than Finn for talking. It was one of the things that bonded the two of them. They could both abide long silences without feeling the need to fill the air with blather. Rob probably talked the most, but even he wasn’t on a constant yammer.

But now, this seemed to need to be said, only what was he saying? He didn’t know her diagnosis. Maybe she had something physically wrong with her, but she didn’t look sick or extra pale or like she’d lost weight or broken a bone . . . she looked just the same. The same way she did standing on the other side of the shop. He stared over at the display rack, imagining she was there, squinting at a track list.

Rob asked a complete question this time. “Did you talk to her?”

“Real quick, but yeah. I gave her one of the extra Melody Makers. I mean, I had one with me. Seemed to cheer her up. Well, a bit.”

Looking over at his boss and his co-worker, Finn saw them both nodding like those dashboard dachshunds his dad had in the car. Like they couldn’t think what else to do, let alone say.

Because they’d all seen it, without really realizing it. She came in, quiet and unassuming, rarely smiled, always alone. There was a certain air about her.

There was that time those lads from outside the corner shop had followed her in and said a few disgusting things before Dave ran them out, shouting, “Next time, you’re banned for permanent!” as they scurried up the street. Finn wasn’t in that time; he wasn’t sure what he would have done if he’d witnessed that first hand.

There was the fact that she hardly ever bought anything, just looked and looked, carefully reading track listings and skimming music magazines, doing her best to absorb what she could just by being in the shop. Nodding along to the music, sometimes jotting notes in her beat up orange notebook (Finn always assumed it was lyrics she wanted to remember.)

Those things they’d observed and promptly forgotten, never adding them up or drawing conclusions, because you couldn’t. Not really.

But when they heard, “She’s in the hospital.” and “She might’ve been there this whole time.” A chord is struck somewhere, familiar yet haunting.

Dave moved over to the periodical section, as swift as his bad knee would let him, and decisively grabbed one of each of the magazines on the rack. He thrust the pile at Finn.

“Here.”

Finn raised an eyebrow.

“Next time you go. Give her these. Just say they were extras, leftover, whatever.”

When Finn took the stack in his hands, Dave spun around, picked up another box with a quick sniff, and flipped open his pocket knife to cut along the taped seam.

Finn tightened his grip for a moment, then remembered himself, and smoothed the covers before slipping them into his bag.

“Thanks, Dave. I’m sure she’ll appreciate them.”

Rob piped up with a question. “Do you know if she has a way of playing music? I could make her some copies of stuff.”

Finn bit his lip, wishing he’d thought of that first. “No, sorry, we only spoke for a minute. But if I go back . . . I mean, I’ll ask. I’ll find out.”

“Yeah, let me know.”

The three of them unpacked in silence for a few moments.

Then Dave said, suddenly, “Finn, d’y’wanna to leave early? It’s pretty dead, and we’ve got this. I won’t dock your pay. But . . . you know . . . if you wanted to . . .”

Finn picked up his bag and jacket and said, “I might not make visiting hours, but I’ll try.”

“Cheers,” Dave and Rob said, replying in unison.

* * * * *

Finn had taken his scooter to work, so he made it to the hospital in record time. He’d remembered her last name, from her bracelet and the post-it on the Oasis CD months ago. Earl.

“Rae Earl?” He asked for her at second floor reception, near where he’d seen her before, trying to seem nonchalant, but his fingers drumming too fast on the strap of his bag gave him away.

“She expecting you?” the nurse behind the desk asked, deadpan.

“Um, probably not, but I saw her the other day, wanted to check up—I mean, check IN. I just . . . wondered how she was.” He swiveled his neck in an attempt to feel less uncomfortable, but it didn’t work.

“Yes, well, I’ll let her know you’re here. Have a seat.”

Finn inclined his head. When the nurse had disappeared behind a pair of swinging doors, he collapsed onto one of the turquoise plastic chairs that were bolted to the wall. He slipped his bag over his head, wrapping the strap around his palm a few times, squeezing the canvas and leather.

He wanted to bite his thumbnail so bad it almost hurt, instead he slipped his free hand under his thigh, pressing down against the smooth surface of the seat.

Just then, the door swung open and the nurse bustled back out and settled into the seat behind the desk without so much as a glance Finn’s way.

He was about to clear his throat and ask what Rae had said, when on the second swing of the doors, she was there, hovering with an uncertain look on her face while the door wobbled into place behind her.

As he stood, his bag hit the side of his knee. He didn’t wince, just walked over to her. When he was right in front of her, he said, “Hiya.” He winced now, his voice nearly squeaking on the second syllable.

Rae had yanked her sleeves down over her wrists, fingers pulling at each hem nervously. Finn dimly registered it was probably to hide her bracelet. She kept her head angled low, but peered up at him, eyes wide.

“Y’alright?” He closed his eyes in horror. Of course she wasn’t alright, but it was just one of those things you say, in normal greeting. At the pub or the chippy, running into your mates at the park. Not here in the hospital. “Sorry, I just . . . thought I’d stop by. I mean, I mentioned that I’d seen you and—“

“What?” She nearly spat the word.

“I mean, just . . . Dave and Rob. We were wondering where you’d got to and I said I’d seen you. That’s all. I mean, I don’t know . . . anything.” Finn unfurled the strap and swung his bag over his head, then stuffed his thumbnail in his mouth, not being able to resist any longer.

She didn’t seem happy, but he thought she might have relaxed just a bit.

“How was the mag?” he asked, desperate for her to say something. She was quiet in the shop, but her silence had never been this charged before.

Her eyes flew to his, then she seemed to remember. “Oh! Good, thanks, there were some great pictures in there. We’re allowed a bit of blu-tack, so I have something on my wall now.”

Finn nodded. That sounded bleak, but he tried not to show it. And it seemed like a good moment to mention the stash he had with him.

“Uh, we had some extras again, so Dave said I should . . . well, he said I could . . . anyway.”

Finn lifted the flap on his bag and drew out the pile, nearly a dozen titles. He squared them up against his hip, and held them out to Rae, her eyes growing bright all of a sudden.

“What? I can’t . . . that’s too much.”

“Trust me, we end up chucking some in the bin nearly every month . . . it’s better if someone reads them.”

She reached out slowly and Finn pressed the stack into her hands.

Her eyes questioned. “Dave really said these were extras?”

“Yeah, really.” Finn smiled at her, not too broad, not wanting to spook her.

“So you could’ve given me free mags before now, then,” she chuckled.

Finn was so relieved when she took them, he nearly laughed out loud.

Rae looked down, flipping through the titles, grinning at Rolling Stone, which really was an old issue; they were always about a month behind on them.

She raised her head, and started to ask, “Do you wanna—oh, never mind.”

“No, what?”

“It’s just, visiting hours are almost up. I was gonna say did you wanna come to the lounge, but there isn’t time. Stupid idea, anyway.”

“No! No, I’d like to come and hang out in the lounge sometime. Maybe I could come back on . . . Thursday?”

“Um . . . yeah, maybe. We have group on Thursday, but you probably be coming after . . . after . . .”

He could tell she didn’t want to say ‘school.’ “I could come around 4:00, would that be okay?” Finn really wanted to come back, and he had a sudden feeling that she might need him to. That for him to show sudden interest and then take it away would be worse than never having come at all.

They both stood there, sneaking glances at each other in turns, but not really looking. Finn drummed on the strap of his bag again, his momentary relief turning back to awkwardness.

“Yeah. 4:00’s good.” Rae said softly. “You should probably go.” She wanted him to leave first, then. Didn’t want to retreat behind the swinging door, but rather wanted proof of his leaving.

“Yeah,” he sighed, straightening.

“Oh, but—“ she started.

“Yeah?”

“How’s your nan?”

He was pleased she’d remembered, but he didn’t actually know—he’d come straight here, on a mission from the shop.

“Okay, I think. I . . . well, I came here first. I’m headed over to her now.” He reddened.

Rae’s eyes widened. “Then you really should go; visiting hours are almost over!”

For the first time since he’d seen her here, in this place, he didn’t feel unsettled. He reached up to fix his fringe, glanced at her from underneath it, and grinned like he was trying to charm a girl down the pub. “Oh, the nurses usually give me a few extra minutes.”

Her already big eyes grew even bigger, in some sort of surprise, and then she scoffed. “I’ll bet they do. Who could resist that—“ she clutched the magazines to her while her free hand waved in his general direction “—face?”

His cocky grin slid over into sheepish, and he huffed a laugh, turning to walk down the hall to his nan’s ward. He pivoted back, “Oh, wait!”

She hadn’t gone anywhere, hadn’t moved to return to the lounge or her room or wherever she was allowed to be at seven o’clock on a Tuesday evening. She waited, as requested.

“Do you, I mean, can you play music . . . I mean, do you have a way to play anything? In here?”

She hugged the magazines to her chest, hair falling in front of her face. “Walkman, but I didn’t bring much with me.”

“Cassettes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He could usually charm his way to staying after the official hours, but he should try to get there before they were officially over. Turning his head, he said, “See you Thursday!” before jogging away.

* * * * *

His nan was sitting up, smiling, more alert than he’d seen her in a while.

“Finn!”

“Hiya, Nan—you’re looking well!”

She was. Her color was up, and she didn’t look so down as last time. There was a inkling of the old twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m not feeling half bad, either. The doctor says I can go home this week. Maybe even day after tomorrow!”

Finn grinned, then thought: Thursday. He was supposed to see Rae again on Thursday.

Nan must have seen his eyes dim a bit. “Anything wrong, love?”

Finn shook his head. “Not at all!” His grin was back full force, and she peered at it, studying.

“Hmmm, you’re happy again. Something happen? Or someone?”

Finn flushed pink, but his smile didn’t fade.

“Ah, I see I’ve hit close to the mark. Don’t worry, though, I won’t pry.” She settled back against the pillows behind her. “Did you work today?”

Finn cleared his throat. “Just a bit. Dave sent me home early; wasn’t much to do.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek.

As he pulled his head back, she caught him, her crooked hands framing his face. “And you come straight over to visit your old nan. Not many young men would be bothered. I do love seeing you so often, lad.” She patted her right hand on his left cheek, and he flushed again, feeling a twinge of guilt for stopping to see Rae first.

He sat down on the seat next to her bed, glancing to the door, but there was no nurse tapping their watch impatiently, so he settled back.

“How’s your dad?” she asked. His dad had gotten a promotion at work, and was on a big project. Finn knew his dad felt bad that he couldn’t stop by as often as he did.

“Good, good. Says with all the overtime he’s been getting, he’s going to have to take us somewhere nice when you’re feeling up to a trip.” He winked at her; she shook her head good-naturedly.

Finn held his hands up. “His idea, not mine!”

Nan smiled. “The seaside might just be calling, if he can get away for a day or two this summer.”

She must be feeling loads better, if she were thinking about going up the shore.

The two of them reminisced about previous holidays at the sea for a few minutes, and then there was a nurse at the door, her uniform just a bit too tight, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a messy knot. She cleared her throat. “I’ve already let you stay fifteen minutes past,” she whispered loudly.

Finn nodded, pulling his bag onto his shoulder as he stood. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

He gave his nan another kiss, and she beamed. “Next time you see me, I might be going home!”

He beamed back, but there was a fragment of worry at the back of his mind.

Rae.

[kazosa]

Secrets - SoA: Chapter 10

Summary: Reader has lived in a life full of secrets. When her father dies unexpectedly and sends her on a trip all over the country, she finds out just how much like her father she really is. The end of her trip brings her to Charming, CA where she finally gets some big pieces of her family puzzle put back in place and form new relationships with the people there. Chapter 10: Sunday morning. Unexpected request. Warnings: language, (implied smut, doesn’t really qualify, assumed sexytime) A/N: If it wasn’t clear before, this takes place after the events of the final episode, SPOILERS! Italics are for Chibs and his inner thoughts. Bold is for the reader’s inner thoughts. Word Count: 2300 Tags: @telford-ortiz-teller  @sam-samcro  @tstieff  @yourcroweater  @kacilove26  @hiddlelove  @evilsorceress  @reallynigga21  @suz-123  @between-shades-of-winchester  @caitcrook  @i-was-made-of-nutella @charlottecl  @gunsnrosesislife

If your name is struck through I can’t tag you, sorry!

IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE LET ME KNOW IN SOME WAY. ASK BOX IS SAFEST WAY, BUT I DO TRY TO LOOK AT ALL COMMENTS AND REBLOGS. COMMENTS WELCOME!

Secrets Masterlist

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Chibs talking to you in Gaelic again. At least this time, he wasn’t yelling at anyone. You had no idea what he was saying but, whatever it was, it sounded sweet. He had his arms wrapped around you. You were his own personal body heater. If he were anyone else, it would have bothered you. You didn’t like people in your personal space, he was the only one you had ever let get this close to you so quickly, both literally and figuratively. Lying there listening to Chibs, you weren’t sure if he was awake, whispering sweet nothings to you or if he was just talking in his sleep.

“Mornin’, m’aingeal,” his voice rumbled in your neck, sending goosebumps down your side making you snuggle back into him.

“Morning, Filip,” you said, once the goosebumps settled. “What were you saying?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled giving your shoulder butterfly kisses.

“What were you saying before? It sounded nice,” you said.

He fidgeted behind you then tightened his hold around you.

“Ah, well…” he paused, “I said ‘Mo ghradh bithbhuan.’ It’s a sort of… pledge.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. The truth was, it was a pledge, what he hadn’t said was that it translated to, “My love forever.” He’d been alone a long time. Sure, there had been women here and there, Jarry was just a huge mistake, and they had all really, just been sex, and they were rarely still there in the morning, if ever. He’d always left Jarry after a few hours. Waking up with (Y|N), in the morning, and being happy about it, was a feeling he hadn’t had in a very long time. And he honestly couldn’t remember if he even felt that way with Fiona, that relationship had ended so long ago…

“Hmm,” she sounded like she didn’t believe him.

He laid there with her a few moments, just enjoying it while he could.

You picked up your phone to see what time it was and you couldn’t believe your eyes. It was almost 8 am and your internal clock hadn’t woken you up. For the first time in ten years, you’d slept in.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself. Why now? Were you just that content with Filip?

“Wha’s a matta, love?” he whispered, already knowing the answer, nuzzling into your neck and shoulder.

You wiggled back into him, pulling his arms tighter.

“Not a thing,” you said.

Three things became very clear, right away. 1. It was very cold in the apartment. 2. You had zero clean clothes. 3. Filip either subsisted on condiments and coffee, or he rarely ate at home. There was barely enough food for when he’d made breakfast a few days ago. There was no real food in the apartment. Filip was still lying in bed, only half awake while you stuffed your dirty clothes into a laundry bag.

He looked at her, through half-open eyes, wearing the SAMCRO t-shirt he’d given her to wear a few days ago. It barely covered that magnificent arse of hers. The woman had been blessed with a fine figure and he loved how she looked in his shirt. He watched her stuff clothes into the bag and he’d been given a perfect view.

“Filip,” he liked it when she called him by his given name, “I’m out of clean clothes.”

Pulling up the covers, he motioned for her to get back in bed.

“Come keep me warm,” he said.

The scar on her leg peeked out as she climbed back in his bed. It was a jagged cut that, thankfully, hadn’t gone too deep., but it still left a raised mark on her. He practically slept on her side of the bed with her now. To get in bed, all she had to do was roll in his direction to put her face to face with him. Her arm went around him as she moved in close. He dropped the blanket around her and his hand went to her hip.

“You seem pretty warm already,” she noticed, her hand rubbing his back.

“Aye,” he said. “Missed ya.” His hand made its way under her shirt. His fingers easily found the more raised scars on her back. She never complained about her back hurting her, though he was sure it did more than she let on.

“Are you always this sweet?” she closed her eyes and arched her back into him as he worked the muscles around the scars.

“Only for you,” he kissed her forehead.

Her hand left his back and she was looking up at him, a funny little look on her face.

“My god, you’re so handsome,” she said, her hand coming to rest on his cheek. Her fingertips tracing one of his scars, just as he had done with her.

He let out a scoff and tried to take her hand away.

“No,” she said, not budging. Her fingers went back to tracing. “It just adds to who you are. I love the way your eyes get more amber in color when you look at me like that…” she touched the crease of skin around his mouth, “You have the cutest dimples. I see YOU, Filip. I see all of you.”

He wasn’t sure he could speak without breaking down, so he didn’t, he showed her what she meant to him.

Filip had let you pick a shirt to wear and you found your cleanest pair of jeans to wear. There was a laundromat just down the street from Scoops that you and Filip had gone to. The first load of clothes was in the wash and Filip told you to stay with the clothes while he went to the diner on the corner to get you both breakfast.

You were sitting on an empty dryer and Filip had only been gone a few minutes when you heard the door open. Looking toward the door, you were expecting to see him strutting over to you. You were sorely disappointed.

Chibs liked the lady at the diner, but she always took forever and had to small talk. Honestly, there was nothing about him that could make someone think he was interested in small talk. He thought that he put off a strong vibe that he wanted anything but small talk. Still, Ella talked on and on while holding his bag of food. If it had been any other day, he might not have minded. Before (Y|N) came into his life, he might have stayed and eaten at the counter and let the lady blather on, but he needed to get back to (Y|N) while the food was still hot. It was more than that though, he had a bad feeling, like something was wrong. As soon as he walked out of the laundromat, he’d looked in at (Y|N) sitting on the washer, getting ready to open her laptop, he’d looked around the road and the other buildings but didn’t see anything out of place. Still, that feeling wouldn’t leave him.

Finally, Ella gave him is food containers and drinks and he was out the door walking back to the laundromat. As he got to the windows, he looked inside for (Y|N) and didn’t see her. He was concerned, the feeling that something was wrong came back, but maybe she was just in back using the restroom. He pulled open the door and went inside to where she had been sitting and put down the food on the next machine over. The washer was still running, her laptop was sitting open and running, but she wasn’t anywhere around. He looked through the whole building. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and dialed Scoops. Thankfully, Chuckie was there and answered almost right away.

“Chuckie, did (Y|N) come back to the store?” he didn’t even let him say hello.

“No, boss. She didn’t. She’s not with you?” he asked.

“No. Did you see anything?” he asked just as a thought popped into his head. “Did you see a cop car?”

“Well, now that you mention it, yeah, about 10 minutes ago. Took off kinda hot, too,” he said. “You don’t think she got picked up, do you?”

He sighed heavily, “Aye, either tha’ or she stole the cop car.”

“Would she do that?!” he asked.

Chibs didn’t answer. He didn’t think she would, but he wouldn’t have put it past her either. He looked at the computer. The screen was showing an email from her COO.

“Chuckie, see what you can find out and call me back,” he told him.

“You got it, boss,” he said and disconnected.

Chibs was pissed. This was Althea, it had to be. He’d only suspected she, or someone, was watching the store, now it was all but confirmed. The washer stopped running and he threw the clothes into the dryer while he thought things through. He could call Jack...or Debbie. Thinking of how she would react made him push aside that thought almost immediately, but if (Y|N) was in trouble, he should call her. Deciding to wait until he heard from Chuckie, there was nothing left to do but eat his breakfast while he waited.

Maybe ten minutes later, Chuckie called back and let him know that (Y|N) had been picked up by Sheriff Jarry and Deputy Eglee. He couldn’t get any more information than that out of the duty sergeant. He thanked him and ended the call. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until the dryer was done.

Jarry had you in an interrogation room. She’d left you sitting at the table with a bottle of water saying she needed to make a phone call before she could come back to talk to you. You’d waived her off, reminding yourself not to lose your temper INSIDE the sheriff’s station. That was what she wanted you to do. If she decided to charge you with anything, it meant you’d be stuck in a cell for the next two days. Poor Filip, he probably thought you’d taken off. He was a clever guy, you were confident he’d figure it out.

Ten minutes later, Jarry finally came back. With her, she carried a large file folder. Dropping it on the metal table, it made a loud banging sound as the contents went spreading out in front of you.

“Jesus, lady, this isn’t the movies. You don’t need the drama tactics,” you muttered and your stomach growled. Missing breakfast was not your most favorite thing in the world. Being hungry and rousted from the laundromat had put you in a foul and bold mood.  “Is there a point to all of this? Are you going to charge me with something?”

“Whether or not I charge you with something is entirely dependent on you Miss (Y|L|N),” there was that smug cop tone again. “Can you account for your whereabouts last night between the hours of 11 and 3am?”

You wanted to flip her off, but you kept yourself under control. You’d seen the deputy cars parked just down the road from Scoops. The clubhouse had a perfect view of the street for a block and a half in either direction and after the incident with Happy the night of the party, you’d needed to see for yourself. The cars were unmarked, though you knew a cop car anywhere, plus the butts on the ground had been a dead give-away.

“Why don’t you ask the people you had watching Scoops? I’m sure they could tell you,” you said quietly.

Jarry paced around the room. She looked pissed. Of course, it could just be her broken nose and her arm that was in a sling, you assumed to keep her from hurting her ribs or arm. You’d messed her up more than you thought you had. You gave her credit for suiting up and working again. As you watched her pace you noticed that she looked like she was wrestling with something internally. Finally making a decision, she spoke to you.

“There have been a rash of car thefts in the area in the last week. More than ten. Consorting with a known felon,” she flashed a quick look at you, “with multiple suspected car thefts in your past, it seemed like a good idea to bring you in for questioning.”

It pissed you off to no end that she had taken the time to call in to your hometown court and police to see what the detectives and court documents had to say. First, she had stopped you and Happy, probably to find out your name. Then she had investigated you further for some bullshit reason that was really just an excuse to check you out. Though the file folder contents did have you intrigued. You could see a picture of the front end of a 1970 Chevy Nova sticking out. If this wasn’t a fake case, the cars being stolen were intriguing.

“What is all of this?” you asked pushing the pile of pictures and papers back into some semblance of order.

She pointed her spindly finger at the file, “That is a record of all of the thefts in the last week and all of the reports and evidence brought. There’s even a few arrest records for probables.”

Well now, this just got interesting. What is Jarry getting at?

“And what do you want me to do with this? Do you want me to look at it, tell you it was me?” you thought maybe you knew what she was doing.

Jarry’s voice went up in volume, “I want you to look at the goddamned file and tell me who is behind this!” Jarry spun on her heel and paced more franticly like it physically upset her.

“YOU want ME to HELP YOU?!”

[onceuponatimewasnow-blog]

Virtual World Radio Exclusive Interview, July, 02 (2002)

Armed with a violin, brilliant imagery, powerful lyrics, and sheer girl-power, Emilie Autumn has already become a fixture at college radio. Now, she's set to conquer the Internet. And she's got some tough words for the RIAA.

Emilie Autumn: Absolutely Enchanted She's played everything from the great concert halls of Europe, to initimate rock venues in the Midwest. Now, Emilie Autumn is set to conquer Internet radio with her unique brand of Fantasy Rock.

Emilie Autumn. Powerful lyrical imagery, a violin....and wings...

Richly talented, multifaceted, innovative, eclectic and unconventional - singer, songwriter, producer, pianist, and world class violinist Emilie Autumn is that rarest of musical breeds...a true original. This is a singer with the power to change the world of rock music as we know it. Whether she is writing and performing original songs that bring together an extraordinary mix of sounds and styles; performing concerts in the great classical music halls of Europe and the US; or bringing down the house with her own electrifying violin rock creations, 21-year-old Emilie Autumn makes music that defies categories, breaks down barriers and builds a bridge to a new era of music with a truly globe-spanning soundAs a classically trained violinist, Emilie revolutionizes her instrument by playing her electric violin live a la Jimi Hendrix, meanwhile belting out her girl-power anthem, “Chambermaid,” during her highly theatrical stage shows. The result is sexy, surprising, and even controversial. You've likely already heard Chambermaid on V-Mix. Emilie talks about the story behind the track, playing concert halls in Europe, and why she chose her own route as an independent artist. VW: You manage to successfully blend a unique array of sounds and styles in your music, much of which you would never believe you could put together in a rock song. Yet, you’ve done it. Since your sound doesn't seem to conform to the standard format tags, how would you describe it?

EA: It’s true that there’s too much variety within my music (and a lot of other music for that matter) to categorize it in any one genre, but for general radio usage, we like to say its Adult Alternative, whatever that means these days. I call my music “Fantasy Rock,” but I don’t think there’s a format for that yet.

VW: Chambermaid is an incredibly powerful track, and uses lots of imagery to tell its story. Is this from personal experience? What’s the story behind it?

EA: Firstly, thank you very much. “Chambermaid” is one of those muses that just flies in the window, grabs you by the throat with her claws, and says, “Feel that? Well, pass it on.” She’s a good girl in a bad world, and she finally got pissed off enough to through the death card in some guy’s face. The details of the story are not from personal experience, but the sentiment is. In the song, this woman gets tired of being pushed around by her lover, so she throws him into the moat and closes the drawbridge. She also wears camouflage corsets to dinner, so I guess that part is me...

VW: You’re one of the few artists that have not only embraced Internet radio, but have successfully harnessed its potential power. What do you think the future of the medium is, and as an artist, how would you like to see it evolve?

EA: Sadly, internet radio is undergoing some really tough times as a result of the latest fines imposed upon it. I think that, three years from now, we will look back on this era as one of the most ridiculous times in music. I mean, the vast majority of mainstream music takes “shit” to a whole new level. The major labels, after experiencing some financial losses in the past year, are petrified by the wrath of their shareholders and will accuse anyone in order to get out of the hot seat themselves. Of course, the RIAA exists solely to support and protect the major labels, so their conniving blather is to be expected. It’s all about control. The majors could capitalize on the advance of the internet (radio, downloads, etc.) and turn the new diversity offered to listeners into increased cash flow, but they can’t have that because, despite their potential gains, they would then be losing the absolute control of the public ear. When people have the opportunity to expose themselves to a larger variety of music than mainstream radio offers (via internet radio programming and various file sharing services), they will not buy less music, they will buy more, but their tastes will also not be as easily dictated, predicted, and manipulated, resulting in loss of marketing control for the labels. They can’t operate in a system where they can’t predict what will be successful. It’s what their whole empire depends upon, and the moment you introduce that question mark into the equation, they’re running around like decapitated chickens, accusing everyone with a modem of thievery. Ultimately, every single artist on, or affiliated with, a major label, is a pawn on the chessboard of global society. I’m not saying all artists on major labels are rubbish, because that isn’t true; some artists happened to get their break on major labels, and have gone on to produce quality music. Still, their releases are coordinated by the label to suit the label, their media is orchestrated by the label to suit the label, even (and especially) their controversies are hatched by the label to suit the label, and their ultimate purpose is to control what you hear, what you see, what you think, so that they can go to their shareholders and say, “We guarantee that this will sell, we guarantee that next year this will sell, we guarantee that the year after that this will sell, and because we dictate public taste through our omnipotent control of ALL media (which everyone knows is the most powerful entity in the world), we will never fail.” That’s what shareholders want to hear, and that’s what the majors are going to tell them, at the expense of internet radio, independent media, independent artists, artistic creation of any kind, and ultimately, YOUR freedom. Fight like hell. VW: You’ve been touring the Midwest quite a bit recently. Any Mid-Atlantic tour plans in the works?

EA: I’m actually contemplated touring schedules as we speak, and I’d love to expand my normal touring regions into the Mid-Atlantic and beyond. I think it’s about time.

VW: Who, if anyone, inspired you to become the incredibly diverse musician that you are today?

EA: I don’t believe I can point to any one or two musicians in whose footsteps I have followed, though I am certainly an admirer of many. I’ve gleaned inspiration from a handful of artists that came before me and combined what I learned with my own claustrophobia when it comes to being boxed in to a certain mindset, a certain category. I’m inspired by the strength and gorgeous female power of Annie Lennox. I’m humbled by the songwriting craftsmanship of Sting. I’m intoxicated by the unnaturally beautiful voice of Morrissey, and I learned how to play the violin more from the albums of Nigel Kennedy than from my master teachers. Put that and a pinch of Jimi Hendrix, David Bowie, Etta James, Eric Clapton, Hildegard von Bingen, and a Celtic reel all together in a snow globe filled with glitter, shake it up, and smash it against a wall. Add wings, and you have me.

VW: Which artists do you enjoy listening to now?

EA: Anything I can illegally download. Just kidding. I listen to the old as much as the new, so my iTunes playlist is populated by a combination of Vivaldi (Fabio Biondi doing “The Four Seasons”), Erasure (I’m covering “Love To Hate You”), The Smiths (“The Queen Is Dead”), and the new Moby album.

VW: You’ve played everything from small intimate clubs, to some of the great concert halls of the United States and Europe. Which do you prefer, and why?

EA: Both types of venues have their charms as well as drawbacks. In concert halls, you have the honor inherent in playing such beautiful venues, and you get to play music that would never fly in a rock club, for example, Barber’s Violin Concerto with full orchestra. The drawback is that you have the distinct feeling that you are not reaching the whole of society, but only those that can afford season tickets to the opera. I respect those people for helping to keep high art alive, but they are not the only people that count. In rock clubs, the nice ones anyway, you get to be wild and loud and shocking, and you feel like you are actively changing the outlook of the people you’re playing for. The drawback is that, at least when you play the violin, you have to convince people that they’re in the right place. VW: In terms of songwriting, at what moments do you find yourself most inspired?

EA: I find that, unlike a lot of musicians I’ve read about, I am most creative when I’m actually nearing happy. Only then do I have the proper distance from a sad or difficult situation to actually write intelligently about it. The only exception to this was in the case of “By The Sword,” which was composed and recorded on 9/11/01. In general, I think what makes a real songwriter is the ability to transpose oneself into an infinite number of dimensions and record accurately and with elegance what one experiences. I’ve purposely developed my mind so that I can float from one world to the next, constantly gathering seeds, and then arrive back home to plant them, usually inexplicably dressed with one striped sock on and a “My Little Pony” T-shirt I didn’t know I had. It’s nothing more than advanced daydreaming.

VW: You’ve been pursued by major labels, but chose to follow your own career path. Why did you decline major label backing, and have you ever regretted the decision?

EA: I’ve actually worked with major labels in the past, which is why I feel somewhat qualified to criticize them so harshly. I was first courted by a major in my teens and spent a summer locked in a studio, writing songs that were promptly torn apart by the producers, a team of fat, rich, Europeans who thought it was fine to slap my ass. I wrote “Rapunzel” (from the upcoming album “Enchant”) at that time, but it was rejected because they said that “Rapunzal” was an ugly word, that no one knew who it was anyway, and that it would never go over well in Japan. They hated “Chambermaid” because it was supposedly about “lords and ladies.” I was told to stop introducing my fiddle into my songs because they said that the general public was intimidated by anything that remotely reminded them of “classical” music. I was told that I had to add more words like “love” and “baby” to my songs because “that’s what people want,” and again, so that it would do well in Japan (their theory was that those are the only words that the Japanese would understand, and you have to give them something to sing along to). I was told to get a tan and cut my hair so that I would resemble the average fashion model as opposed to something more exotic. When I questioned the system, I was told that if I did not comply, I would never be able to buy my mother a house. When I complained, I was told to shut up because I was embarrassing them in front of their backers. Bearing in mind that this particular brand of hell is the norm, not the exception, who in their right mind would regret any decision that enabled them NOT to work with people like this?

VW: What do you most hope to accomplish?

EA: Everything.