#spent yesterday working on my budgeting for the next month. I won’t be working for a few weeks due to work’s store getting a remodel

[roses-and-tears]

what was I supposed to do again

[five-rivers]

Cold Case

So, this is a continuation of Interview With a Ghost, my corpse AU.  Sort of.  Lots of outsider perspective.  

But, I’m too lazy to hunt down the tumblr links.  So.  Here’s the AO3 link to the series.  

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McGee braced himself before getting out of his car and walking into the precinct.  He’d heard all the jokes before, all the mindless digs at his name, and he liked to think that he’d grown a thick skin in response, but part of him still flinched every time.  

Plus, there was a reason he’d been sent to Amity Park.  That reason being the incredibly suspicious crime rate.  That is, the just shy of nonexistent crime rate.  Also, the billionaire mayor that had popped up out of nowhere.  And the high road repair and park maintenance bills.  

Oh, yeah, and the giant murder investigation that had just.  Disappeared.

The county wanted answers.  So, they sent McGee.  Of course, they didn’t tell the Amity Park Police Department that.  As far as they knew, he was just a transfer. Someone being shifted from one department to another.  

So, yeah.  Bracing.  Just like the wind.  Ouch, it was cold.  McGee wrapped his coat more closely around himself and began jogging through the otherwise deserted parking garage.  

The… underground parking garage.  Wind?  

McGee stopped and turned in place, trying to see where the breeze could have possibly come from.  There weren’t exactly any windows down here.  

Feeling more cautious, but not knowing why, McGee made his way more slowly to the elevator door and hit the call button.  The doors opened immediately.  Inside, a speaker tried to play music, but what came out of it was mostly ear-tearing static.  

Well.  If APPD was getting paid off by a mob or the town was skimming from road funds, they certainly weren’t using their ill-gotten gains on the elevators.  

When the doors opened, McGee was hit with a blast of warm air and Christmas music.  He kept his face carefully blank.  It had only just become December, and the police station was… it was… Well. McGee would have to call it ‘decked out,’ no matter how much he abhorred the phrase.  

… Why were there so many menorahs?

“Hey, are you John McGee?”

“Yes, that’s me,” said McGee, turning to face a remarkably plain man in a button-down shirt and a pullover sweater.  

The man had a pair of novelty felt antlers on his head.  They were decorated with bells.  How unprofessional.

“I’m Collins.  We’ll probably be working together at some point.  Same department.”

“Homicide?”

Collins raised his eyebrows.  “I don’t know what you were told, but we don’t have enough homicides to warrant a dedicated homicide department.  We get a one or two mysterious deaths every month, but it always turns out to be, like, anaphylaxis or something.”  He brought a mug to his lips and sipped slowly.  “Mostly we do vice, theft, fraud, and missing persons. Not much of that last one, either. Oh, we had an arson one time.  But it turned out it wasn’t really arson. Anyway, let’s get you checked in, and hopefully Patterson will be here by the time Captain Jones is done with you.”

“Patterson?”

“My partner.  You know, you being here gives us an odd number of detectives.  That’s going to be weird.”  He sipped from his mug again.  “Maybe we’ll promote someone.  Not Cameron Daily, though.”  Collins stared into the middle distance.  “No. Not Cameron Daily.  Love that man. He’s got to stay in tech support.”

“The captain?” prompted McGee.  

“Hah.  Yeah. You have to brave the secretaries, first.”  Collins patted McGee on the shoulder, and McGee suppressed the impulse to shake him off. “Good luck.  At least this is going to be a quiet month, right?”

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McGee spent what was probably far too much time pondering what Collins had meant by ‘it’s going to be a quiet month.’  Did the APPD’s arrangement with the local criminals (because there had to be an arrangement) include forewarning concerning the crimes they did deign to investigate?  Or did they have statistics that indicated December was a low-crime time for Amity Park?

Orientation was highly typical, as far as these things went.  The only oddity were the advertisements and promotional pictures for the local tourist trap tapped up all over half the captain’s office.  Was the man a fan?  Did he believe in that ghost nonsense?  Was it some kind of bizarre joke?

At least the Christmas plague hadn’t made it this far.

“Right, now that we’ve got that part out of the way, let’s move on.  We normally like an even number of detectives, but the county moved you over so fast we couldn’t get you a partner, and no one is retiring.”  Jones rolled his shoulders and fixed McGee with a very sharp gaze.  “Do you know why the county was so… insistent with your transfer?”

Ah.  So, the captain was suspicious.  Time to put that backstory to good use.  

“Honestly, sir, I embarrassed someone, and I think they just spun the wheel on how to get rid of me.”

“Mhm.  See, usually when they do that, they pick from departments that actually put in requests for extra personnel.  We haven’t.”

“I think the main concern was just to keep me away.”

“I see.”  The level of suspicion in the man’s eyes did not change.  “You’re going to be with Patterson and Collins until you get your feet under you and we decide what to do about the partner situation. If the county will even let us out another detective on payroll.  Consider yourself on probation as far as whatever it is you’re doing with the county. Don’t put my detectives in danger.”

“Sir—”

“Whatever excuse you have, I don’t want to hear it. Go talk to Collins.  I know you met him.  Patterson probably isn’t here yet.”

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Collins stood next to a woman in a coat with a long dark braid.  Both of their backs were to McGee.  He could see that they were talking to one another, making tight little gestures with their hands near their chests.  All the other occupants of the room stared at them without a modicum of shame.  

“—until he sees his first fight?  We’re supposed to babysit him until January?  We won’t be able to talk about anything!”

“Well, if you’d been on time, maybe we could have convinced the captain not to—”

Someone behind McGee cleared their throat. Loudly.  Collins and the woman turned, sheepishly.  

“Oh.  McGee. McGee, this is Patterson. Patterson, this is McGee.  You’ll be working with us, apparently.”

“Hopefully, I’ll be able to get out of your hair before too long,” said McGee.

“Don’t count on it.  How long have you been in town?” asked Patterson.  

“Only since yesterday.  Why?”

“We’re showing you around,” said Patterson, snatching the antlers from Collins’s head.  

“Consider it your last bit of freedom before you’re condemned to paperwork,” said Collins.  

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Amity Park was odd, McGee decided.  

It wasn’t just the clashing but equally enthusiastic Halloween and Christmas decorations, the omnipresent construction, and the worrying number of holes in the road (really, there was no way the road repair budget was actually getting used on the roads).  There was something else.  Something McGee couldn’t put his finger on.  Something—

He did a double-take.  Were those two cosplaying the Ghostbusters?  Why?

How seriously did these people take their tourist trap nonsense?

“What are Jack and Maddie doing out?” asked Patterson.

“I don’t know,” said Collins.  He tilted his head to one side and pulled into a nearby convenience store parking lot.  “You’d think they’d be told; December is a quiet month.”

“Mhm.  Maybe they didn’t believe it?”

“They can be stubborn sometimes,” mused Collins. “But it would be nice if there was some action.”  He pulled the parking brake.  “You want to introduce McGee to the local celebrities?”

A look of indescribable disgust appeared on Patterson’s face.  “Why don’t you introduce them?”

“I did that last time.”

“No, you didn’t.  You rang their doorbell and then ran like the coward you are.”

Collins, without any hint of repentance, shrugged. “Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“This is different,” she protested.  “This isn’t just any new resident.  This is a coworker.  A coworker who isn’t going to see that kind of action for a whole month.”

“Action?” asked McGee.  This felt perilously close to what he’d been tasked to find out.  

“You’ll find out in a month,” said Collins. “Assuming you last that long.”

McGee frowned, and decided to take another risk and prompt the pair further.  “I know you have a low crime rate here,” he said, “but I’m sure there will be something for us to investigate before the end of the month.”

“Well, yeah,” said Collins.  “We don’t get paid for doing nothing.”

There was a sharp rap on the window, and everyone jumped.  God. It was just some kid.  McGee put a hand over his heart and tried not to think too hard about the time he had almost been killed in his car by a dirty cop and his gangster friends.

Collins rolled the window down, letting in a gust of frigid wind.  

“Hi, detectives!” chirped the teen.  “I heard you got a new guy!”

Oh.  That was interesting.  Was the local gang using children as in-betweens?

“Yep,” said Patterson.  “This is McGee.  McGee, this is Danny, the only sane Fenton.”

Danny tipped his head to the side and squinted. “I think that title needs to go to Jazz.”

“Danny, I hate to break it to you, but your sister is a lunatic,” said Patterson, completely serious.  

“Come on, you’re just saying that,” said Danny, staring openly at McGee.  

Did this kid blink?

“Anyway, I’ve introduced McGee to one Fenton, you get to do the others,” said Patterson, poking Collins in the ribs.

“Danny doesn’t count,” protested Collins, squirming. “He’s sane, like you said.”

“You’ll have to be fast.  Mom and Dad are like three blocks down the street chasing…”  He trailed off.  “Well, they think they’re chasing something, anyway.  Transient noise on their latest EMF reader.”  He rolled his eyes and finally blinked.  

“Think they might actually get anything?” asked Patterson.

“Nothing with a mind,” said Danny.  “Might have to play animal control soon, though.”  There was a loud crash and a squeal of rubber, followed by distant but still deafening engine noises.  Danny winced.  “Can you please give them a fine for driving around in that thing?”

“They have a special permit,” said Collins, shrugging.  “Straight from the mayor.  Nothing we can do.”

“I will bribe you to do something.”

McGee choked.

“With what?” asked Collins.  “You’re a penniless middle schooler.”

“Excuse you,” said Danny, crossing his arms. “You know I’m in high school.”

There was another crash.  

“Are you sure they haven’t found anything?” asked Patterson, leaning forward.  

“Absolutely positive,” said Danny.  He sighed.  “I should probably go, though.”

“Okay, have fun, Danny!”

“Don’t think you’re getting out of introductions, Patterson,” grumbled Collins.  

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“Alright,” said Collins, opening a narrow door and turning on the buzzing yellow light within.  “Your kingdom awaits!”  He gestured grandly, disrupting clouds of dust.  “You’ll be entering old cases into the system.  Did Cameron Daily show you how?”

McGee’s lips twisted at the memory of the computer tech.  “Yes,” he said.  

“Yeah, Cameron gets that reaction,” said Collins, thumping McGee on the back.  “If it makes you feel better, he’s usually in charge of keeping track of the cults. Did he tell you about the VHS evidence?”

“The cults?”

“Yep.  You’ll learn about those later.  VHS?”

“Yes, he told me how to handle the VHS.”

“Great.  So, Patterson and I will be working on case paperwork in the main room, if you have any questions, come get us, okay?”

“I will,” said McGee.  

Collins nodded.  “If we wind up being assigned a case, we’ll come get you.”  He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder.  “The captain probably won’t give us anything today. Oh, and if Mayor Masters drops in, redirect him to the front desk.  There’s no reason for him to be back here.”

There was a good deal of hostility in Collins’ tone. Interesting.  

“Do you not get along with the mayor?”

“We get along fine,” said Collins.  “He just oversteps his authority, sometimes.”

“I… see.”

“Not yet you don’t,” said Collins, softly, before turning to walk away.  A “Good luck” was tossed casually over the man’s shoulder and seemed to echo in the air despite the hall being far too small for that to happen.  

McGee turned to his work and smiled.  They shouldn’t have left him alone with the records. This was where he did his best work. There was always a paper trail somewhere.  

He opened the department-issued laptop and brought up the digital filing system.  

It was odd, though.  He’d spent years in the police, and he’d never heard of Fenton & Foley Information Systems.  

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The department computer filing system was a miracle.  McGee meant that completely, as a connoisseur of filing systems.  He wondered if he could get the county to adopt it, assuming it didn’t tie back to the mob or something equally unsavory.  

On the other hand, it was only a couple months old, by the looks of it.  It was, therefore, mostly empty, as compared to the almost infinite number of filing boxes in the record room.  

The record room was not well organized.  In fact, it was barely organized at all.  Several of the boxes looked like they’d been beaten with a bat, others were singed.  A few dripped with something sticky and green. One or two looked as though they’d been drenched in water and then left to dry in a dark, damp room.  Only about half of them were labeled.  

To top it off, towards the beginning he’d found a post-it that had said: Boxy, if you steal these again, I’m going to leave you in the thermos for a week.  -Phantom

The people here were way too into their tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they weren’t just tourist trap shenanigans.  Unless they were a front.  

He’d put that on his list of things to investigate.

But first, first, he was going to find the records for the murder that was recently swept under the table.

The newest boxes, despite being reasonably intact and therefore unique, weren’t easy to find, but he was able to drag them out and sit down with his laptop.  He could enter as he searched, and thereby give the illusion that he was a completely normal transfer more credence.  

Except.

Except.  The records for that murder didn’t seem to exist.  Not even in the cold case box.

“Hey.”

McGee jumped.  Patterson was standing behind him, holding two paper coffee cups.  

“How’s it going?” she asked.  “I know these records are hell.”

“Fine,” he said.  

“Coffee?”

“Sure.”  He took the offered cup from her.  “Forgive me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but when I was working up at county, I heard that you had a murder case here, recently?  You dug up a teen’s body?”

“Oh, yeah.”  Patterson was unperturbed.  “Yeah, that was pretty exciting.  Collins and I were on that.”

“I can’t seem to find the records for it.”

“Yeah.  Well, there wasn’t any foul play.”  Patterson shrugged.  

“Wasn’t he found buried in a public park?”

“Well, aren’t you informed,” said Patterson. She sipped her coffee aggressively through the plastic stirring straw.  

“So, you found an illegally buried teenager’s corpse and just… dropped it?”

“We investigated it,” said Patterson.  “There wasn’t anything there.  Case was cold even without that.”  Another long, aggressive sip.  She couldn’t possibly be getting any coffee up through that straw.  It had to be mostly air.  

This was the most bizarre intimidation tactic McGee had ever come across in his entire life.  This was saying something.  Once he’d worked with a man who’d pretend to have the flu during interrogations.  

“You should still have records for the investigation.”

Patterson shrugged.  “You’d have to ask Captain Jones about that.  Anyway, I brought a bunch of tapes for you, too.  You’ll have to rewind them by hand, though, when you finally get to them.”  Another sip. “Are you planning on doing the salvage boxes?”

“The what?”

“The salvage boxes.  The ones that got fished out of the lake.  Wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t.  Just curious.”

“I’m- They were in a lake?  Why?”

“Stick around and find out,” said Patterson.  “Did Masters come bother you yet?”

“Mayor Masters?”

“The one and only,” said Patterson, raising her coffee in a mock toast.  

“Why would he come here?”

“Because you’re new, and theoretically a weak link. Oh, yeah.  One more thing.  I know your check-out time is in half an hour, but come back around eight, okay?”

“Why?”

“Reasons.”

“Are you hazing me?”

“That’s what the salvage boxes are for,” said Patterson.  “Come back at eight.  Bye.” She waved as she left.  

Great.  What was he supposed to do about that?

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He didn’t go home after checking out. Instead, he walked around town.  Patterson and Collins’ tour had been… interesting. Not terribly informative.  They had given him an overview of various restaurants, ‘paranormal hotspots,’ and places where dumb kids gathered to experiment with drugs of dubious legality.  

But they had avoided certain parts of town.  McGee had noticed.  

True, some of that was likely coincidence, but McGee had never heard of a public cemetery that wasn’t the site of something shady. Sure, a good caretaker would chase off anyone messing around in daylight, but cemeteries and graveyards just attracted trouble.  Even if that trouble was just the local goth kids running around while high out of their minds.  

But this cemetery, evidently, is different. Because there’s an unholy amount of people there for something that supposedly hallowed ground.  Is this also part of the weird ghost-theme the place had going for itself?  Were those tourists?  In the graveyard?  

That seemed to be in remarkably poor taste.  

McGee pushed his hands deeper into his pockets and lengthened his stride.  This whole town was in poor taste.  

Oddly, everyone seemed to be gathered around the same grave.  Maybe it was a funeral?  No, the ground in front of the headstone was long since patted firm, and the headstone, while obviously fairly new, had some evidence of weathering even from a distance.

Had there been a celebration today?  Memorial Day wasn’t today, was it?  McGee always lost track of those fiddly little holidays.

Huh.  The headstone was blank.

“Excuse me,” he said to a nearby woman.  “Do you know who was buried here?”

“You… don’t know?” she asked, eyes wide with surprise.  

McGee grinned.  “I’m new in town, I’m afraid, and I just saw all these people here… I’m curious, I guess.”

“Oh,” said the woman.  She looked away, every part of her body language screaming that she was coming up with a story to feed him.  A lie.  Or, at least, deciding which lie to use.  “Well, there was a body found a few months ago?  No one ever identified him, so… He was buried here?  We just, um.  It was sad, you know?  You’ll probably hear more about it if you stick around.”

Despite almost everything she said being a statement, she still managed to make everything but the last sentence sound like a question.  

Even if it was a lie…

“I hadn’t, actually.  Can you tell me what happened?”

… Maybe it was just what McGee needed.

[catflorist]

The Garden (ao3 / ffn) catflorist Summary: SasuSaku. Sasuke left Konoha for a cottage in the woods. One day, Sakura arrives injured at his doorstep. They recall their past and think about what comes next. Slow burn, post-canon, about how Sasuke and Sakura grew close again. Rated T through Chapter 5, then M. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7

The Garden  Chapter 2

True to the instincts of a traveling shinobi on constant alert, the instant Sakura opened her eyes in the morning light she was awake.

She spotted a pitcher of water and a wooden cup beside her bed, next to a platter of bread and a selection of fruit. Sitting up, the water was down her throat before she could even think. She filled the cup again and drank slower this time, testing out her limbs one by one. The location of her old wound was smooth as if it hadn’t been open and bleeding half a day before. Except for an ache in her skull, not a whisper of pain remained in her body.

After quenching her thirst, Sakura reached for the food and began chewing. Her eyes fell upon a third offering next to her bedside: a folded pile of clothes. Her skin twitched under its layer of grime, dirt, and blood. She vowed to bathe before dressing in the clean clothes.

Basic needs met, Sakura shifted her attention to her surroundings. The interior of the cottage was small, with tall ceilings, and built in the traditional style. Except for hand-carvings decorating the door and window frames, there were no frills. Leaves pressed up against windows and morning light dappled the room. The sound of nearby moving water and the smell of dried wood soothed her senses.

Sakura sorted through the clothes Sasuke had left. There were loose pants and a shirt that were clearly his. A rough bar of soap. He had even thought of underthings: a pair of cropped shorts, wrappings for her chest snatched from a medical kit and coiled in a careful bundle. Heat prickled her cheeks as she eyed the last two items.

The events of yesterday filtered through her mind. She stilled, remembering the sensation of Sasuke’s chakra coursing through her, healing her. The soft weight of his hand on her skin.

Sakura could not believe she was here. Part of her had expected never to see Sasuke again.

Sakura couldn’t help it: she thought back to months ago, before he decided to leave the village for the third time.

* * * *

Once Sakura learned how to read the signs of Sasuke’s friendship, they were everywhere.

As Genin, after her one-sided infatuation with Sasuke had transformed into mutual respect and understanding, she learned the subtle ways in which he expressed his affection. He always listened when she spoke, even if he sometimes only responded with silence, a grunt, or a rare smirk. When it was his turn to cook on Team Seven missions, he reserved the crispy crust of rice at the bottom of the pot—the okoge—for her. She could never recall informing him of this preference. As they learned how to fight, he corrected her form and technique without mercy, but scowled at Naruto if he also commented on Sakura’s performance. Racked with the pain of Orochimaru’s curse mark during the Chunin exams, he had reached desperately for her hand and squeezed.

She could never reconcile these old memories of Sasuke with the memories of him that gave her nightmares. Those jerked her out of sleep, shaking and convinced he was still pressing a kunai blade to her neck.

When Sasuke returned to the village after his period of wandering, they had both grown and changed. As Genin on Team Seven, common experiences, hopes, and fears united them.

Now they were both adults, each defined by experiences and efforts that were unknown to the other. They had been enemies. Sakura didn’t know how to be around him anymore.

* 

Sakura left the hospital late one night.

In the cool night air, her heart leap with joy and pride. Another group of students training under her in medical ninjutsu had graduated that day and joined her growing cohort. Sakura was committed to Tsunade’s dream of lowering the mortality rate on missions by dispatching a medical-nin with each team. Slowly but surely, she was increasing the number of shinobi in the village with medical knowledge.

Sasuke rounded the corner of the empty street. Sakura nearly jumped. She was still not used to the sight of him in the village. He had returned to Konoha a month ago in the spring. They had not spoken much.

He nodded at her, acknowledging her presence. She nodded back. That concluded the normal extent of their interactions. But Sakura was in a good mood, so she called, “You’re out late tonight.”

Sasuke raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re one to talk,” he observed. He continued walking.

Sakura squinted at his back. She kept waiting to detect the familiar note of contempt in this voice. She had yet to do so. This was also new.

*

Sasuke didn’t sleep much these days. His body still craved the movement and discomfort of constant travel. After dark, he wandered the streets of the village until exhaustion came.

On one of these nights, Sakura stood on the steps of the hospital as he passed by. He wasn’t shocked to see her here so late—talk of her accomplishments expanding the Konoha medical system were everywhere since he came back to the village.

Sakura was different. This was already clear when they fought briefly together during the war. Back then she had stunned him on the battlefield with the full extent of her strength and power. She had grown fierce and confident. Holding back no emotion, she lashed out at him in passionate anger. She cried over his wounded body and healed him without hesitating. She asked him not to go. She did not accept his apology.

Now, all of Sakura’s strong feelings seemed to be gone. She did not avoid him when they crossed paths, but she did not seek him out.

A clear joy marked her face tonight. For a moment, there was no difference between Sakura now and the Sakura he knew as a child. A part of Sasuke stilled, realizing how little of herself she showed to him now. It was just a fact. He was not allowed to have an opinion on the matter.

She greeted him.

Later, Sasuke felt light in his bed. He slept.  

*

If a third party like Naruto had initiated the contact, Sakura and Sasuke politely spent time together. It seemed one commonality they still shared was a penchant to please Naruto.

To Naruto’s clear delight, his friendship with Sasuke had picked up without skipping a beat. The two of them fell back into their friendly competitiveness. They sparred for hours on end. They bickered with what might closely be described as affection. Sakura had even seen Naruto tease a smile out of Sasuke. Despite her guardedness towards Sasuke, Sakura softened in those moments. She did want him to be happy.

Naruto had dragged a group to Ichiraku’s. Lee wept solemn tears over a portrait that Sai had presented to him. Hinata, Ino, and Choji watched horrified as Naruto slurped ramen at a frightening speed. Sasuke was there.

Sakura was in a bad mood.

“Is it Ito-sama again?” Naruto asked, watching Sakura slam her bowl down, sloshing broth on the counter.

Sakura glanced around Ichiraku’s to make sure it was just them.

She let out a deep breath. “He won’t increase my training budget,” Sakura complained. Ito-sama on the village council praised her for training the next generation of medical shinobi yet refused her the resources she needed to do her work. It was infuriating. “I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”

“Maybe it’s because your hair is getting too long. You could cut it again,” Ino suggested.

The others laughed, recalling Sakura’s dramatic haircut during the Chunin exams years ago. It was funny precisely because the moment illustrated Sakura’s creativity and determinism in the face of a challenge. They knew she would find a way out of this bind.

 “Get your scissors, Ino,” Choji called.

“Don’t think I won’t do it again,” Sakura kindly threatened the group.

“I’m afraid for the council,” Naruto gulped. He clung to Hinata.

Amid the banter, Sasuke’s eyes met hers, wary and watchful.

Half-asleep in bed that night, she remembered Sasuke’s reaction. In the moment, she found it odd. Another thought occurred to her now.

Sasuke lacked the context of their conversation. He didn’t know the details of Sakura’s recent work lobbying the council. He was not familiar with Ino’s language of teasing.

He only knew the shared memory. In the same fight where Sakura had sliced off her own hair, Sasuke released the dark power of his curse mark against the people who hurt her. He had done this to protect her. It was also the first step he had taken away from her. The first moment he had tasted the power that tempted him away from the village.

It was possible he wanted to see whether she had been upset.

Sakura was wide awake.

*

Sakura sat on the steps of the hospital. The moon was up high. She had just recruited a new cohort of students and stayed late to finalize the details. She was exhausted.

When Sasuke rounded the corner, irritation ticked in her stomach.

Her indifference to him faltered then. “Leaving again?” she jested, even though it was clear he was taking a walk. How dare he disturb her solitude when all she wanted was to be alone?

How dare he worry whether she was upset?

Sasuke halted. He didn’t scowl, but he was not happy.

Sakura felt calm. This was familiar territory. She prepared for his retort.

Then his features shifted. He grunted a short, “No.”

Sakura let up.

“All right,” she sighed. “Good night.”

He stood silent for a while. Sakura’s brow furrowed. She could never tell what he was thinking.

Head turned away, Sasuke finally said, “Good night, Sakura.”

*

It was the middle of summer. Sakura was busy. When she wasn’t teaching her team, she worked to establish policies at the academy and hospital that made medical training mandatory in the teaching of all shinobi. She fought with the village council. She also worked her regular shifts at the hospital. And trained her own abilities. Naruto wailed at her busy schedule and started inviting himself over to her apartment in the evenings.

“It’s important to spend time together, Sakura-chan,” he insisted, arriving unannounced at her door the first time. “You’re too busy.”

She loved the time with Naruto. He sometimes brought Ichiraku take-out, or instant-ramen which he enhanced with poorly chopped green onions. In return she coaxed him to eat her health-conscious meals. Sometimes Ino or Hinata joined, or members of the medical team that Sakura trained.

Then one day Naruto brought Sasuke.

The first time, she struggled to keep a straight face when she saw him at the door behind Naruto.

At the door, Naruto exclaimed, “Whatever you’re cooking smells great! Oh, yeah, I thought it was about time we had Sasuke over! That’s okay, right Sakura-chan?”

“I thought she knew we were coming,” Sasuke mumbled to Naruto, who was already bounding past them and removing his shoes.

“Oh.” Sakura said. “Well—”

Sasuke glanced down the hallway. Sakura realized he was waiting for her cue. One downward shift of the mouth or brow and he would go.

On a different night, on many nights, Sakura might have given him that cue, and he would have left.

“—the rice is almost ready,” Sakura finished. She opened the door wider.

Tonight, she didn’t want him to leave.

Sasuke paused, then crossed into the apartment.

It was strange to see him in the same landscape where she lived her daily life. He sat on the couch next to Naruto, head turned to read the titles on her bookshelf. Naruto’s friendliness and chatter kept silence and Sakura’s nerves at bay. Though Sasuke had never been a conversationalist, he was listening. And when nudged enough, he chipped in.

Naruto was laughing. “Sakura, you always had the best chakra control out of all of us. I couldn’t believe it when you first walked up that tree.”

Sakura smiled, remembering the feeling of chakra pooling on the soles of her feet for the first time. As natural as breathing, she ran up the bark of that tall tree into the sky. Her world had changed.

“Sasuke was so mad!” Naruto shoved Sasuke with his shoulder. “You had to ask me how she did it.”

Sakura didn’t know this.

“You weren’t a very good teacher,” Sasuke grumbled in response.

For the first time that evening, Sakura let her gaze rest on Sasuke for longer than a polite glance. He was busy scowling at Naruto. The tips of his ears were pink.

“Maybe,” Sakura retorted, “you should have asked me first.”

The corners of Sasuke’s mouth twitched.

“Maybe I should have,” he answered. His quiet voice contained a tease.

The night had gone well.

* * * *

Sakura’s eyes refocused. She picked up the bundle of clothes, slid open the door to outside, and followed the sound of the water.

*

*

*

*

[athenagc94]

Gust and Piper - Beginnings Pt. 1

I’m starving for more MTAP content, but now I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I have to create some of it too... I guess.  Here is a little of snippet of something I’m working on for my builder, Piper, and Gust.  It’s a lot of scenes right now and I’m working on bridging them together.  Here’s one of them.  Kind of the start of everything.  I don’t know

You can read the first the other parts here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

I’m also posting the story here on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As a younger man, Gust dreamed of making his mark on history.  He planned on traveling across the Free Cities, designing important structures for important people.  Several years ago, he’d fled to Atara to chase those dreams.  He lived the fast paced life of a bustling city.  He’d studied under his mentor Vera for years.  When he graduated, he was ready to take on the world as the next Master Architect.  If Gust could smack his younger self upside the head, he would.  Because that kid was a naive fool.

When he and Albert discussed the possibility of forming their own business, he didn’t plan on setting up shop in his hometown of Portia.  However, his sister’s health started to decline and, as it does, life happened.  Now, here he was, four years later with nothing to show for it.  He spent his days hunched over a drafting table, designing bland buildings for the bland people living in this bland town.  It wasn’t the life he had hoped for, but it was his reality.

His grip tightened on his pencil as he dragged it across the page.  The latest rendition of the South Bridge was beginning to take shape.  It wasn’t his first crack at the design and he doubted it would be his last.  His design process followed a similar pattern these days.  He’d create an inspired concept, the client would see it, they would hate it, and he’d be back at square one.  Wash, rinse, repeat. 

His father always said Portia was a frontier town and that they would develop it into something great.  Gust clucked his tongue irritably.  The longer he worked in Portia, the less he believed it.  How did one develop a town full of people that feared the very concept of change?

“Good morning!”

The front door jingled.  Gust set his pencil aside and turned around.  Portia’s newest builder, Piper, stood just inside the door, hands stuffed in the front pockets of her grease stained coveralls.  She didn’t seem to notice him right away, in fact, she didn’t spare the loft above a single glance as she searched the lower level.  “Albert?”  She disappeared out of sight, “you here?”

Gust pursed his lips and stood up.  Albert was usually on top of helping customers.  He rarely did any filing in the back rooms during office hours.  Albert would never miss out on helping one of Portia’s eligible bachelorettes.  He peered over the railing curiously.  His desk looked like it hadn’t been touched.  The usual mess of work orders and commission forms were stacked neatly on either side of his desk and his chair tucked in place.

Now that he thought about it, he never heard Albert come in this morning.  He racked his brain.  They’d left the office together yesterday.  They were discussing the latest commissions they needed for the bridge when they bumped into his father.  Gust groaned.  That’s right.  Albert was meeting with his father and Mint this morning to go over the budget for the project.  He would be gone until after lunch.

“Albert?”

“Albert is meeting with my father this morning.”

He heard a gasp and the builder reappeared under him.  He watched as several emotions played on her face.  It was like flipping through a book.  Surprise quickly turned to realization, which immediately became disappointment.  He sighed.  Yeah, he tended to have that effect on people.  “He won’t be back until this afternoon.”

Piper glanced down at her watch and made a face.  “Can you help me then?”

Gust blinked, taken aback.  Most people never asked him to help.  If a customer came in while Albert was out, they’d quickly apologize and came back later.  To them, Albert was the brains of the operation.  Gust was just there to be pretty and make things pretty, which was a fair assumption now that he thought about it.  Regardless, it wasn’t true.  Gust was knowledgeable enough about the inner workings of A&G.  But the people of Portia didn’t need to know that, if they did, he’d be expected to help them.  So he never corrected their assumptions.  Apparently, no one had bothered to inform Piper.

He rolled his eyes and turned away from the banister.  He may as well help her.  The sooner he did, the sooner he could get back to work.  He smoothed the lapel of his coat as he meandered down the stairs and towards Albert’s desk.  If he remembered correctly, Albert kept the blank work orders in the bottom left hand drawer.  He rummaged through the drawer, pulled out a blank order and took a seat.

Piper hadn’t moved.  She stared at him, dumbfounded, though he couldn’t imagine why.  Was she surprised to see him willing to help?  Should he be insulted right now?  He pursed his lips.  A moment passed, then another, and she still didn’t move.  He tapped the nib of his pen impatiently on the desktop.  After another moment of tense silence, he cleared his throat.  “Well?”  

Piper shook herself from her stupor.  “Iー” she cleared her throat, “I’m looking to add an extension to my workshop.”  She bounced on the balls of her feet.  “I’m tired of sleeping where I work, ya know?”

Gust didn’t know the feeling, so he chose not to respond.  He tried to ignore the awkward silence that had settled between them and made quick work of filling out the form.  It was easy information.  The initial consultation was always easy.  His real work began when he started conceptualizing.  It was his favorite part of the process, but recently, it had also become the most draining.  He could see it now.  He’d design the new addition.  The builder would want something less aesthetic and more functional.  He’d be disappointed and create the same thing he’s made for the last four years.

“Alright, I’m going to needー” The rest of the sentence died on his lips.  Piper was gone.  He peered around the room and found her examining the model he’d left on one of the displays.  His stomach lurched.  He’d spent weeks designing that model for a competition for the Vincent Design Institute.  The results had come back earlier this week.  They had been less than satisfactory.  He swallowed thickly.  He would have thrown it out already, but Ginger had insisted he keep it.  She didn’t want his hard work going to waste.

Piper peered a little closer.  Scrutinizing it.  Picking apart every flaw, just like the judges had.  His grip tightened on his pen.  Just like he had since the results had come out.  He pushed himself out of his seat and approached her.  

“Are you done snooping around?”

Piper jumped away from the model.  He met her sheepish gaze evenly as he crossed his arms.  “Sorry,” she gestured to the model, “I was just admiring this. It’s really well made.”

Gust felt the heat flood into his cheeks.  Pride swelled in his chest as he let his arms fall to his sides.  At least someone seemed to notice its quality.  “Well, thank you,” he said curtly, “I guess.”

Piper gaped.  “Is this your design?”

He scoffed, “well, obviously.”  He brushed past her and approached his model.  He’d drawn inspiration from the logic cube Ginger sometimes played with.  It was a boxy structure made up of three stories.  Every level was skewed on a central axis to give it a unique shape.  He’d used lots of windows and skylights to draw on natural light.  “It was for a competition I entered last month,”  He ran his finger along the edge of the top most story.  Dust was already beginning to collect on its surface.  “I didn’t win,” he continued bitterly, “they said it was too strange.  They didn’t understand my vision.  The crotchety old fools.”

Piper tilted her head to the side.  “Well, those guys have no taste.”  She knelt in front of the design and peered through one of its windows.  “It’s so interesting.  I’d love to see it full scale.  It would be breathtaking.”

Gust narrowed his eyes and searched her face.  She had to be messing with him.  The people in Portia didn’t like his designs.  She was tracing the angles of his design with his eyes.  She wore a sincere, almost dreamy, smile as she examined his work.  He stared a little longer before giving up.  She genuinely liked it.  The mere notion made his heart flutter in his chest.

“Have you studied architecture?”

Piper snorted.  “Well, no,” she admitted as she stood back up, “but I’m a builder, so I make things for a living.  Sometimes I like to admire the handiwork of others.  Especially when they’re this talented.”  She stuffed her hands back in her pockets and took a step back.  “You think differently and I like that.”

“Unfortunately,” Gust regarded his model with a look of disdain, “you seem to be the only one who shares in that sentiment.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile.  “It’s a shame they didn’t appreciate your design,” she was bouncing on the balls of her feet again, “If it makes you feel any better, I would have scored it well.”

Gust would be lying if he said it didn’t.  It felt good to know that someone appreciated his work.  His real work, not just the stuff he made to satisfy the town.  He didn’t really have a lot of support in his creative endeavors.  There was Albert of course, but he was more practical about these things.  He did what had to be done to make money.  Whatever made the client happy, he would do without question.  His sister tried to show her support, but she lived a sheltered life and she didn’t quite understand his late night tirades about parapets and gables.  

Piper was a builder.  She understood construction and aesthetics to some degree. The materials he’d used to create this model had been given to him by his father.  A halfhearted attempt to show his support, but the materials came from somewhere.  Had she been the one to provide them?

Gust’s breath hitched.  “Those materials my father got me,” he began slowly, “they came from you didn’t they?”

Piper shrugged.  “Your father asked me to lend a hand.  I was more than happy to help.”

“You sure like to be nosy, don’t you?”  He tried to sound irritated as he brushed past her, but he couldn’t stop the smile that curved on his lips.  The room had gotten significantly warmer.  His heart was hammering so loud, he was afraid Piper would be able to hear it.  He pressed a hand firmly to his chest and cleared his throat.  “Now,” he slid back into his seat, “come over here and sign this.  You’re wasting my time.”

“You’re not the only one with things to do.”

“Then do us both a favor and get over here.”

Piper didn’t argue and took the seat across from him.  “Sign here, here, and here” He punctuated each word with the tip of his pen.  “This is just the initial work order, so Albert will touch base with you later to go over the details.”  He handed her the pen and shifted back in his chair.

As she read through the fine print, Gust gaze wandered back to the model across the room.  He’d spent the last few days despairing over its imperfections.  If only he’d made the angles a little cleaner, or if he’d spent a little more time conceptualizing, maybe then the judges would have liked it.  He was nursing a big blow to his ego.  He had even begun to doubt his abilities as an architect.  Maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

It would be breathtaking.  Her words resonated with him.  He had thought the exact same thing when he drafted the first renditions.  It would be nice to see it come to life.  

“Is that all you need from me?”

Gust tore his gaze away from the model.  Piper fidgeted in her seat.  She really didn’t like sitting still, did she?  “That’ll be all for now.” He picked up the order form and placed it in Albert’s pile off to the side.  “I’ll begin drafting some concepts for you addition.  When I’m done, Albert will bring them your way for review.”

“Ooo, a Gust original for my addition,” she beamed at him, “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Gust gave her a thin smile and he hid his twitching fingers in his lap.  He could feel the thrill of inspiration course through his veins.  He was itching to get started.  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

“I’ll try not to,” she winked and slipped out of her seat, “but I should really get going, so I’ll leave you to it.  Thanks for your help.”  She offered him a small wave.  Gust watched her go, offering no farewell in return.  She didn’t wait for one.  Without another word, she slipped through the door and out into the plaza.  The door jingled after her.

Gust was out of his seat in a flash and making a beeline for the model.  He scooped it up in his arms and hurried up the stairs to his drafting table.  Several ideas were already floating around in his head.  He hadn’t been this excited about a project in awhile.  He sat down at his table with renewed vigor and got straight to work.

[ruthoakenshield]

The Lady in Black Leather (chapter 7)

The Lady in Black Leather (chapter 6)

You walked down the hall to the bathroom and could hear the ribbing Richard was getting from his friends. You could hear them teasing him about ditching them to hang out in the kitchen with you last night.

Apparently, they didn’t realize you were still here and that you had spent the night cuddled in his arms.

You washed your face and got the little bit of make up off of your face that you had worn yesterday. You looked tired. You carefully undid your braid and finger combed through it. You headed back into Richard’s room to look for a comb or brush. You went into his bathroom and found a comb laying on the counter. Turning on the faucet, you ran it under the water and then started to comb out the sections of hair you pulled over your shoulder.

Once you got all of your hair combed out, you decided to just leave it long today. You pulled a couple of chunks at your temples into four strand braids and joined them in the back of your head, securing them with your elastic band.

You found Richard’s toothpaste and put a little on your finger and rubbed it around on your teeth trying to get rid of the gross feeling in your mouth. You rinsed your mouth and your finger with some water then went back into the bedroom and pulled your socks and boots back on.

You took a deep breath and quietly headed downstairs. You could hear Scarlett and Aiden’s voices along with Martin’s and Richard’s. You quietly crept down the stairs and stood at the bottom looking around at the living room. People were still passed out on the floor and on the sofa.

You quietly walked into the hallway leading to the kitchen and stood in the doorway watching everyone as you stuffed your hands into your front pockets and leaned against the doorway, crossing one foot in front of the other. You smiled at the banter being tossed back and forth between Aiden and Martin and Richard.

Suddenly you hear a beautiful voice behind you and turn your head to see a pretty blonde woman walking towards you. You shift and make room for her. She stops and greets you. “Oh, Hello! You must be Richard’s friend, Harley, was it?” She asked.

You heard everyone in the kitchen stop talking and turn to see you standing there. You nod and say, “Yes, I’m Harley. Who are you?” you ask.

She chuckles and Martin comes over to the two of you. “Darling you’re up!” he says as he scoots past you to kiss her. “Harley, this is my partner, Amanda.” He tells you.

You hold out your hand and she shakes it. “It’s nice to meet you Amanda.” You tell her.

She grins. “Nice to meet you too, Harley! You have such an unusual name, do you mind me asking where your parents got it from?” she asks.

You grin. “My dad was an American, my mom was from Nottinghamshire. They met in College when she came to the US as a foreign exchange student. Their first date, he took her for a motorcycle ride on his Harley.” You giggle. “And, well, the rest is history.” You smirk.

Martin looks at you surprised. “You’re named after a motorcycle!?!” he exclaims, getting an elbow in the ribs from Amanda.

You giggle and nod. “Yup. Mom always said I was just like his bike, fun, noisy, obnoxious, and stubborn.” You grin.

You feel hands snake around your waist from behind and look up to see Richard grinning down at you. “Well, now that you’ve met, can we get back to making breakfast?” he asks teasingly.

You grin and nod. You let out a shriek when he suddenly picks you up and carries you into the kitchen. Making you, Martin and Amanda all laugh.

Scarlett and Aiden look up from their make out session and grin. “So, you DID stay the night!” Aiden teases. “Thought you might have left and had Graham take you back to the apartment.” He said.

You shake your head as Richard sets you down by where he was working to make breakfast. “No, I’m not staying anywhere overnight alone until I get a guard dog or my ex is permanently out of the picture and no longer a threat.” You tell him.

Richard grins.

“What do you need a dog for?” Amanda asks.

You explain to her and Martin what is going on with your ex and how Richard and Graham want you to get a guard dog to keep you safe.

“That’s probably a good idea, Harley.” Martin tells you. “Restraining orders are a joke. They rarely work and only give the cops another thing to charge the person with. They do nothing to really protect a person from being harassed and attacked.”

You nod. Then turn to ask Richard what is for breakfast.

He nods to the stuff on the counter next to him. You see eggs, sausage, bacon, pastries, ham, and shredded potatoes.

You ask if you can help. He nods and points to the eggs. “Crack them in a bowl for me and I’ll make omelets for whoever wants one. There’s cheese, milk and peppers in the fridge.

Martin sighs, “Got anything vegetarian for breakfast, Rich?” he asks as he digs around in the fridge.

Richard grins, “Not sure what a vegetarian eats for breakfast, Martin, you’re welcome to what ever you find that you want to eat.” He tells him. “There’s cereal in the cupboard next to the fridge if you want that. I think there’s some soy milk in the fridge too.

Martin gives Rich the finger and then finds some food for breakfast and starts to eat. Richard looks at you and asks what you want in your omelet. You tell him, bacon, ham, shredded potatoes, peppers and cheese. He grins and nods. He makes you your omelet, then makes one for Scarlett and one for Aiden, one for Amanda and one for himself. Rich tosses you a bottle of aspirin once you finish eating so you can take some for your hangover headache.

The smell of food, finally wakes up the rest of the guests and they head into the kitchen and find stuff for breakfast. Some make omelets, some have scrambled eggs and ham or bacon, some have pastries, some have cereal. Everyone has coffee, which had to be made several times until everyone had a cup.

Everyone stood around talking and eating breakfast. Once the partygoers were done eating, they started heading out to go home. You helped Richard with the dishes and put them into the dishwasher while he rinsed them off. Once the dishwasher was full, you put the soap in and then ran it.

You head over to your jacket and backpack and pull out your phone. You see you missed several calls and listen to the voice messages. You call Officer Sand back and apologize for missing the calls. You explain what happened after you got done seeing the apartment and he chuckles. “Well, at least you’re safe.” He tells you.

You apologize for worrying him. “No problem, Harley. Did you want to meet up today so I can get the keys for your old apartment? The guys said they’d come help pack up your stuff today with me. We’ll take it to our storage facility that that PD uses, and we’ll store it there till you get a place.” He tells you.

“How did you like the O’Malley’s apartment?” he asked. You tell him you loved it, but aren’t sure if you’ll be able to afford it since it is slightly more expensive than your current place, and Mrs. O’Malley had to ask her husband if he’d allow you to have a guard dog. You ask him how to get the guard dog registered as a service animal so you can keep it with you at all times. He explains the process and tells you that if you need help with that, he knows someone who can help.

You thank him and the two of you set up a time and place to meet to give him the keys. You tell him to leave the keys on the counter once they have everything out and cleaned. You give him your landlord’s name and phone number and tell him to call your landlord when they’re almost done so he can come lock up the apartment and get the keys.

He thanks you and tells you he’ll see you soon.

You hang up and check your other voicemails. You have one from Todd telling you that Mr. O’Malley agreed to let you have the guard dog and the pet deposit would only be $150. He tells you to call him and let him know if you still want the apartment so they can set up a time to go sign the lease.

You hang up and sigh as Richard comes over to hold you in a hug. “What’s the matter, Love?” he asks.

“I need to sit down and figure out how much my budget is going to be with this new job. Todd says that Mr. O’Malley said I can have the dog at my apartment if I decide to get it and that the Pet Deposit will be $150.”

“That’s not much!” Says Scarlett. “How much is the rent and security deposit, Sweetheart?” She asks.

“Mrs. O’Malley said the rent was $850 and the Security Deposit was equal to the first month’s rent. I won’t be getting my deposit back from the old apartment because I had to break the lease, so I’m not sure. I might not be able to get the apartment for a month or so.” You say as you rub your face. “I just need to sit down and see where I am with all my bills. I need to call and cancel the electricity at the old apartment, which I should do today.” You remind yourself.

“Harley, there’s no hurry to get a place.” Aiden tells you. “I already told you that you can stay at my place for as long as you need.” he says.

“I know, Aid, but you live on the other end of town from my job and I don’t want to be getting rides every day. I miss my walks to and from work.” You tell him.

“You are always welcome to stay here, Harley.” Rich reminds you as he gives you a squeeze.

“I know, Rich. I appreciate both offers, but I need my own place right now. I have a lot of things I need to work through, and I need to know I can make it on my own without needing help every month with bills. My ex always demanded to handle everything, and it wasn’t until a few months before my surgery that I found out how much he had screwed things up for me. He totally ruined my credit and wasn’t paying bills and was taking my paychecks and blowing them on frivolous stuff. It took me months to repair the financial damage he destroyed. He had access to everything: credit cards, bank accounts… it all had to be closed or cancelled and re-issued under my name only and an identity theft warning was placed on my Social Security number and bank accounts so I’d know if he tried to use them.” You explain as you rub your face.

“I need to be able to just be myself and stand on my own two feet for a while and be able to do what I want, when I want. I appreciate the help you all offer and give, don’t get me wrong. This is just something I need to do for me and for my own piece of mind.” You explain.

“I understand, Love. Just know that we are here for you IF you decide you want help.” Richard tells you. Aiden, Sophie, Martin and Amanda agree and nod.

You thank them and sigh as Richard holds you in his arms. “So, what do you want to do today, Harley?” Sophie asks.

You think for a minute. “I need to head back to your apartment, Aid. I need to change clothes and sit down and figure out my budget before I do anything else. I need to meet Alex at the precinct to give him my apartment keys for 1pm. Todd wants me to call him back to let him know if I want the apartment or not and I suppose I should take a look at what my options are for guard dogs.” You reply.

“Graham has a friend who trains guard dogs.” Amanda tells you. “He has some wonderful dogs! Beautiful and EXTREMELY well trained. They come registered as service dogs if you’re getting them for personal protection. I assume you’d be taking it everywhere with you?” She asks.

You nod. “Yeah.”

“What kind of dog do you want?” Aiden asks.

“I don’t really know.” You reply. “I’m terrified of some kinds of dogs.” You tell him.

He looks at you confused, “Why?” he asks.

You look down at the floor. “I was charged by a Rottie and a Doberman when I was a toddler and they terrified me. They were inches from my face, growling and snapping at me. They had broken their ¼” thick chains and charged me and mom for some reason. Completely unprovoked.

Another time, our neighbor in an apartment building I lived in had a boxer and a pit bull. He had just taken them out of his unit’s door, when they saw me come up the stairs. They charged me and pinned me against the wall, barking and growling at me when I did nothing to provoke them. I don’t know if he wasn’t holding onto their leashes tight enough or at all, but they terrified me.” You tell him.

You feel Richard hold you close, and you feel safe in his arms. “Well, we’ll scratch them off the list, then.” Says Amanda.

 Richard looks up at the clock on the wall. “Well if we’re going to get anything done today, I suggest we get a move on it. I’m going to go shower and get dressed.” He tells everyone.

“We had better head out honey.” Amanda tells Martin. “It was nice to meet you, Harley, feel free to join us and hang out and party whenever you like.” She says and gives you a hug. You hug her back surprised. You look over to Martin who also has a surprised look on his face, but grins and nods at you.

“Thank you, Amanda. I will try to join you all when I am able.” You tell her.

See you later, Rich, she tells him as her and Martin head out. “Thanks for the fun party and for breakfast!” she tells Rich as Martin pulls her down the hallway and out the door. Making everyone chuckle.

 Rich looks at you. “I suppose you’re heading out with Aid and Scar?” he asks.

You look at them and they nod. You look back at Richard and nod.

“Come here,” he says and gives you a tight hug. “Thank you for coming to the party last night, and for this morning.” He whispers in your ear. “I love you, Harley. Please be safe and let me know how you’re doing later on today. If you want me to come hang out with you after a while, call me, Ok?” he tells you.

You look up at him and nod. “Ok, Rich.” You say. He leans down and gives you a deep kiss that lasts a few minutes. “God, you’re addicting!” he whispers as he breaks the kiss, causing you to blush. “and you’re beautiful when you’re blushing like that.” He teases, making you blush a deeper red.

“Rich what are you saying to her to make her so red?” Scarlett teases.

Richard looks up at her and smirks. “Wouldn’t you like to know!” he says with an impish grin.

Aiden just laughs, “Come on, ladies, let’s get going so Rich can go cool off in the shower!” he teases.

 Richard holds you a little longer. “I wish you didn’t have to go and would stay here.” He tells you, “but I understand your reasons.” He says and reluctantly lets you go with another passionate kiss.

You giggle and go to grab your coat and backpack.

You give him another hug at the door, enjoying his manly scent and bare chest before Scarlett drags you out the door. “See you later.” You call out and wave to him as he stands in the doorway waving and looking like a lovesick puppy.

Rich sighs, and watches the three of you drive off. He closes the door and looks around at his now empty and too quiet home and sighs again. He goes around picking up the living room, thankful no one puked this time.

He takes out the garbage and then heads up to his room to shower. He notices your long strands of hair stuck in his comb on the counter and chuckled as he pulls them out and shook his head at how long some of them were. He thought Thorin’s wig length was annoying, he couldn’t fathom having hair as long as yours was.

Rich puts the comb back down on the counter and tosses the hair in the garbage, then strips down and climbs in the shower to freshen up.

@dondarrion16 @criminally-supernatural @hilary456 @fizzyxcustard @thetherianthropydaily @ratv0miit @emrfangirl @midnight-reader-morning-sleeper

[violetsystems]

#personal

I guess tomorrow will be a month since I was let go from work.  The severance finally deposited along with the payout for my paid time off.  The way unemployment works today would have been the earliest I could have applied.  As everyone reads in the news about America, the extra benefits expired this week.  My situation is very unique but it’s not without precedent.  I’m simply not eligible.  Which means I have to adopt the term “self-employed.”  The CARES act did have some less than obvious help for my situation though I had to do the digging.  The last four weeks I’ve had little or no help from anyone other than the counsel of my parents and here.  So the good news was that I spent the last four weeks trying to work through the financial ambiguities.  I learned a lot about tax law.  I set up a brokerage.  I divested my entire life from the last twenty years of my career.  And nobody said anything.  I’m sure people wanted to say things.  Yesterday I had to narrowly avoid two interactions with some people who haven’t talked to me in over a year.  It was obvious that someone wants me to talk out in public.  It was also obvious enough to avoid altogether.  Like someone is always trying to set up these quasi “magical” encounters with people who could literally just reach out and call.  They don’t.  That’s a clear sign of either social engineering or a flat out scam on my public identity.  I’ve travelled around the world at this point and had hundreds of such street interactions.  It’s not worth my time to play catch up about something that I’ve already started healing from.  It’s baggage to me.  Just like the tax burden I’m facing making sure I don’t get caught up in an election year spectacle.  Everybody is talking about people “like me” but nobody bothers to address my situation by name.  If all I were was my job then I’d be a failure right now.  But I spent the last week building an investment portfolio after rolling out of bed sleeplessly at three thirty in the morning.  I ended the week twenty five dollars down.  Blizzard leading the top of my modest leads.  I invested in both AMD and Intel.  Throughout the research on the Internet I read about these companies and products I purchase.  Stocks are supposed to be fun.  No one would know because everyone talks over each other just like in real life.  But investing in these times is a lot more.  Savings accounts don’t yield near anything due to the interest rates.  Money is held onto all the time which doesn’t really help the liquidity of the markets or the economy.  Greedy companies don’t help either.  Intel was the market leader.  Also had one of the highest paid CEO’s.  Also has a processor delayed a year in a market surrounded by wolves.  Apple has the ARM.  AMD has the Ryzen.  The computer I built does too.  The laptop I’m currently on is a coffee lake i7.  Matched with the 144hz refresh on the display, it plays Overwatch on a clip I’ve never experienced.  It’s butter.  AMD is affordable.  AMD is also making the jump from hobbyist darling to OEM distribution.  I invested in both because of a simple fact.  Both companies are now led by women.  AMD is led by Lisa Su.  Intel’s  Ann Kelleher will lead the initiative for the future to bridge the industry gap and opportunities for women.  These are the things I’ve been connecting my money with after twenty years of maturation.  And mostly how I’ve been “wasting my time” the last four weeks.

Not that anyone would know other than from what I’ve written.  People are friendly enough.  I’ve been out on my bike trying to clear a path in my life for the next six months.  I’m in a situation in which incurring any more income this year makes things more difficult.  And when I skim the jobs on LinkedIn I see more of me sidelining my life to make other people money.  Stability is a weird thing.  In America, you think it’s your job.  But it really is just money.  The way things work out I have amazing health insurance for a year at a price.  I also have the option to add a spouse and child at any time during that period.  It’s expensive.  I could have shopped around.  Skimped on dental or vision.  But in the end, I could afford to sit things out.  And in a time of complete and utter desperation, I come off cool and calm to a point.  The reality is I could just sit here and play games at the kitchen table.  I could write to my friends.  I could keep following the same love in my heart that I’ve been following for a few years.  I was more impressed that I could broadcast where I wanted to work on LinkedIn more than what opportunities are out there.  I selected Chicago, New York, Los Angeles and China.  I’ve been treated as human capital for years without my consent.  I’m worth more than this.  I’m sick of listening to people talk about themselves and do nothing about it.  They compare and contrast.  They plot and they scheme.  They gossip and backstab.  And every year they’re more and more buried.  In their emotional baggage.  In the problems they won’t dare face head on.  In the debt they accrue.  Silently yesterday I ended all my credit card debt in a series of transactions.  I still have a small loan which will be paid come September.  I have never sat quietly and never had to owe anyone money I didn’t have.  I spent twenty years at a salaried job weighed down by lifestyle creep.  When you aren’t happy in a job, you spend more to compensate.  This happens to medical students often.  They get great jobs out of school but are also in debt from loans.  They burn out on spending.  The debt piles up.  And there is no escape other than to work harder.  The same goes with student loans, home mortgages, and whatever else ties you down to revenue generation for someone else.  I’m not there anymore.  And I don’t really have any interest in going back.  The brokerage account was a late night brainstorm.  I talk less about politics now.  The politics don’t help me.  I talk to myself about tax law and investment.  I write about it here but I would never talk about it in public.  Just like I’d never discuss magic the gathering strategy with a person who wants to talk about celebrity gossip instead.  I see change in my life when I act for myself.  And excuses don’t pay the bills.

And then there’s the awful reality that people still think they know better.  This is a dangerous time in that respect.  People forgot about me the whole last month.  I literally had no real human contact via email after the 15th.  I missed the window to clear out my office waiting for this laptop.  People really expected me to use all my psychic powers to read into what they want me to do with my life.  I’d rather save the telepathy for the girl I like.  In that respect, not really trying to change my agenda.  My agenda isn’t hidden or anything.  People just don’t ask me the right questions.  People don’t ask questions at all.  In the last month, I’ve felt the most human and been treated the least humane.  And that is just life.  Would the girl of my dreams really want to see me break down and cry for help?  Or would it be better to see how no matter how hard I get thrown I always land on my feet?  I’m more than on my feet.  I’m on stable ground and a little tired of the world and its bullshit.  I’m also not really mad about it anymore.  I’m just me.  I have some time to organize my life for a change.  I got new glasses.  They are Versace.  I have time to take care of myself.  I have a monthly and yearly cash forward budget.  It is very necessary to know your expenses first when looking for a job.  It is the key to negotiating a salary and benefits.  Ironically LinkedIn solved the problem for me.  It thinks I should be making 10k more than I was.  And more in New York.  Nobody told me that outright.  I had to figure it out for myself.  Because the difference between what you want to do and what you can afford to do is a real line.  I worked for a non profit for years and barely got a raise or promotion.  The salary wasn’t industry standard at all.  And now the position just doesn’t exist.  I can’t comfortably say I can even work until I consult a tax lawyer.  That was a decision that I made for myself.  There’s a lot of decisions I make for myself that nobody gives me a warm hug in public for.  Nobody is privy to them because they either are afraid to treat me like a human being or they don’t read these journals.  This is to say that I realize nobody “really” cares.  If they did I wouldn’t have gone through any of this.  I wouldn’t feel forgotten.  I wouldn’t have taken that rage and moved on.  Being angry is dumb.  You saw it on my face for years.  I was stressed.  I was strained.  I listened with genuine concern and intent to the feelings everyone had.  I accepted everyone face value.  I worked to make people feel included.  And in the end I was excluded for whatever reason.  I didn’t fit in.  I always had to surrender my identity to the “discourse” that was more interested in using me a punching bag than an ally.  I don’t have to be the beacon for a lawsuit anymore.  I don’t have to raise my blood pressure for people who would rather see me drop dead.  I can just stay out of the way completely.  And in a time when American politicians on either side have no real answers, I’d rather rely on myself to get through.  I’d rather wait for people to recognize how utterly horrible I’ve been treated in terms of my value as a person.  I am not human capital.  I am a fucking person.  And the one thing I know is that my value over time here is not wasted.  And the time I’ve spent writing to you has made me who I am.  Impervious to hipster bullshit.  <3 Tim

[trashforhockeyguys]

Can’t Help But Love You -5- Kasperi Kapanen

A/N: As always all previous parts are linked in my masterlist. Also, don’t we love how I always say I won’t be updating various fics for a while and then I do anyway because I manage to find free time? Yeah same.

You fought your way through airport security. All you could think about was how different things were when you were here at the end of summer. You’d been so excited to see Kappy and William again, the time without them had seemed so long. Things were so incredibly different now, especially since it was just you and Will, while you avoided Kappy like the plague still.

 You weren’t sure if he knew you were coming, nor did you really care. It wasn’t his business anymore. He didn’t get to know what you were doing with your life. You’d both given up that right a long time ago.

 So you boarded the plane and waited. The flight wasn’t long at all, you were in New York before you even knew it. Syd told you she’d pick you up, even though you kept telling her that you were fine getting a cab. But she insisted that you had to at least spend the afternoon with her and Matt.

 So you did just that. Most of the afternoon was spent by you sitting on the floor, cuddling their dog. The three of you made small talk, mostly catching up after not seeing each other in nearly a year. When Matt was in Toronto, it wasn’t unusual that they had everyone over at their house.

 “Okay, between us, what actually happened between you and Kappy?” Syd finally asked, handing you a glass of wine.

 “It’s complicated,” You tried to explain.

 “Bullshit. What happened?”

 You quickly drank your wine and leaned back into the chair. You knew you’d actually have to talk about it sooner or later. So you tried to figure out exactly what you were going to say. Were you going to go with the nicer version of the truth, or the truth that still rocked you to the core.

 “I thought he loved me,” You admitted, “It was so stupid, but I thought things would be different this time, he promised me it’d be different. And I believed him. When I woke up to him that morning, I was ready to give him everything. And then he said I love you, but he wasn’t telling me. He said someone else’s name that I couldn’t quite make out, but it wasn’t me. He didn’t love me, he doesn’t love me.”

 “Oh sweetie,” She sighed, “Do you honestly think he doesn’t love you?”

 “I heard it loud and clear Sydney. So I left, and now we’re here.”

 You began to play around with your hands. Somehow, actually telling someone what happened seemed to make it more real. Before, you felt like you were carrying around this secret, and you could almost ignore that it happened. But now, she knew, and it felt real again.

“I know it probably sounds stupid, but I trusted him,” You continued, “I tried to fight it at first, I was determined that we wouldn’t fall back into the same old thing, but then when he wanted more….for the first time he wanted more, wanted us to be more. I just let it happen without a second thought, and I guess I paid for it.”

 “Have you thought to talk to him about it?” She asked.

 “And be humiliated? No, absolutely not,” You replied, “He didn’t want me, and that’s fine. I’ll move on eventually.”

 She shook her head. You knew she wanted to keep talking about this and probably try to change your mind. Made you think that there was a chance for you and Kappy, but you didn’t see how there could be. He made his choice and you’d made mine. You made the decision to walk away and protect yourself. Even if you already regretted it.

 You’d spent the rest of the day just catching up. She didn’t bring up Kappy again, but she did ask about the rest of the boys. I could tell she missed all of them and missed being in Toronto. But I knew she and Matt were happy in New York. After all, he was home again.

 By the time we were ready to head to the game, you already felt slightly buzzed. Which wasn’t a bad thing. You thought you needed a bit of alcohol to get through tonight. Being in the same building as him, even if we were far apart, still hurt. You could still feel him in a way, even before he got on the ice, it was like you could feel him. You knew, without a doubt, that he was there.

 It was strange, to sit and watch them and not be in Kappy’s jersey. Instead, you were in Willy’s, because you still refused to go to a Leafs game and not wear their colors. Even if you were in Islanders’ territory. You wouldn’t feel right if you weren’t in blue and white.

 Halfway through the game, you noticed Kappy started looking around the arena while on the bench. It took you a minute to realize that he was looking for someone. He leaned over to Willy, who started to scan the crowds too. When Willy couldn’t find whoever fast enough, Kappy pointed. You’d expected him to point somewhere else, but instead, he pointed in your direction.  He’d been looking for you.

 You could see William smile and nudge Kappy. He’d been looking for you. He’d known you were here, and somehow, despite the large number of people here, he’d been able to find you. You tried not to think about it too much. It didn’t mean anything. It just meant that he was somehow able to spot you, end of story.

 But you couldn’t shake the butterflies. you felt stupid because you’d allowed yourself to hope again. For a split second, when the two of you made eye contact and he smiled, you’d allowed yourself to hope. You almost hated yourself for it, because it meant he still had power over you.

 The leafs pulled out a win. They’d had to fight tooth and nail, but they’d won. Matt wasn’t too upset after, because he’d been able to see Mitch. He tried to get us all to go out for dinner together, but it just hadn’t worked out. You were beyond tired, it seemed like the lack of sleep over the last few days decided to catch up with me all at once. Much to the dismay of several of the Leafs, and apparently a few Islanders, you opted to return to your hotel.

 All you wanted to do was sleep. Tomorrow you’d go to the show, and finally be able to cross seeing a musical on Broadway off of your bucket list. Maybe you would actually be able to enjoy the day by yourself, in a city that you’d always loved but rarely ever spent time in.  

 When you climbed in the bed that night, all you could think about was that somewhere in the city, there was Kappy. You’d promised each other that the next time you came, he’d be by your side, he’d even promised to let you drag him to any musical you wanted. Because he knew it’d make you happy.

 You almost felt like being sick. You’d promised each other that at the end of last season, just a handful of months ago. How was it possible that this much had changed since then? You had to fight every bone in your body to not reach for your phone and call him. You couldn’t, you wouldn’t. You could make it through the rest of your trip without him. In that moment, you decided that you would be okay. You had to be.

 The next morning as you got ready to go to the show, you were texting William nonstop. He knew, almost better than anyone, that you’d turned into a nerd over this show. Which meant you were more than excited for this. At this point, you were sure that you resembled a kid on Christmas, but you couldn’t care less. This would probably be your only opportunity to see a show on Broadway, so if that meant that you were geeking out then so be it.

 But on your way to the theater, you realized that you couldn’t find your tickets. You searched everywhere you could think of in your bag, which was the only place you’d put them. To say that you started to freak out was an understatement. You’d spent more than you should’ve on that ticket, and the whole trip in general. You couldn’t have lost the ticket, there was no way.

 But as you stood outside the theater, you finally accepted that your ticket was gone.

 “Y/N, aren’t you supposed to be at the show?” Willy asked once he picked up his phone.

 “I lost my ticket and I can’t afford another one and I’m here for another two days because I can’t change my stupid-”

 “Y/N! Slow down, I can barely understand you. What happened?”

 “I don’t know! I had my ticket yesterday and now it’s gone Willy,” You cried, “And I’m stuck here because I can’t change my flight. Damnit!”

 “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Where are you?”

 “Outside of the theater.”

 “Okay, I’m coming to get you. Just stay there okay, I’ll be there soon.”

 “Willy don’t. I’m just going to go back to my hotel. I’ll figure something out,” You sighed, “Just don’t leave the hotel, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

 You knew he’d probably try and show up at your hotel room anyway, most likely with a bag of gummy bears to try and make you feel better. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to come, but part of you almost wanted to be alone.

 “Are you sure?”

 “I’m sure Willy, besides, you need to rest up before you guys play again. So, don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out, I always do.”

 Hours later you were back in your room watching tv, trying to figure out how you were going to spend the last two days. You were already near the top of your budget for the trip, so buying a ticket to a show tomorrow was out of the question. You had little choice but to sit in your room and do nothing but wallow.

 The only time you actually left was the next afternoon to go find a good place to get lunch. You texted Syd to see if she and Matt were busy later on and asked if they wanted to grab dinner again. Even though you were in one of the worst moods, you didn’t feel like being completely alone.

 “Oh! Miss Y/L/N!” The concierge called, “This was left for you while you were out.”

 “Oh? Do you know who left it?” You questioned, taking the box from him.

 “No ma’am, only that he was sorry that your trip didn’t go as planned.”

 “Right, well thank you.”

 As you got in the elevator you dug your phone out. You automatically assumed it was William that had brought whatever it was, to try and make up for your misfortune. Even though he had nothing to do with it.

 Once you got back to the room you set the box down on your bed before carefully opening the lid. Inside was a dress that you’d been eyeing at a little boutique in Toronto. You’d first seen it when you were out with Steph. But you’d never actually spend the money on it.

 Before you could even think, you were dialing William, “William, I thought I told you not to do anything.”

 “I didn’t?”

 “Oh so you didn’t buy me a dress and leave it at my hotel? You’re one of the only ones who knows where I’m staying.”

 “I swear, I didn’t buy you anything,” he promised.

 “Willy! There’s even a bag of gummy bears!”

 “I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”

 “But-”

 “Is there a card or anything?” He asked you.

 You sighed and dug around in the box before finally pulling out a card. You almost dropped the phone when you opened it up. Inside was another ticket to the show you’d missed, with even better seats than you’d originally had, and a simple message that almost brought you to your knees.

 I’d find you even in a crowd of thousands… I made a promise and I plan on doing my part to keep it. -K

 “It was Kappy.”

 “I know talking about him with you is off limits, but go to the show. Because I can promise you that he wants you there,” he sighed.

 “Willy, I don’t know if I can. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

 “Then don’t think. Just do it. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s your favorite Broadway musical, ever.”

 “I can think of a lot of things that could go wrong, Willy. Like too many things.”

 You could picture him rolling his eyes, “I won’t argue with you. But seriously, go to the show. I don’t want to have to hear it from both of you if you don’t.”

 It didn’t seem to matter how hard you fought yourself, you still ended up at the theater the next day. You also ended up in the dress that he’d sent you, even though you had planned on forcing him to return it. Something in you just wouldn’t allow you to leave without it.

Even though you knew he’d be there, you were still surprised when you saw him standing outside, in a dress shirt. For some reason you thought he might back out at the last minute and stand you up, part of you almost hoped he would. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to face this.

 “You came,” he seemed relieved.

 “Like you said, we made a promise,” You explained, “Plus, this is probably the only chance I have to see this.”

 He smiled, “Well then, I guess we should go in then.”

 “Kappy, I wanted to say thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you shouldn’t have.”

 He shrugged, “I made you a promise, and I try to be a man of my word. Besides, I knew it would make you smile. So, let’s go on that journey to the past.”

 “Have you listened to the whole soundtrack?”

 “Guilty, I made Willy find that bootleg for me too. I figured I should at least know what I’m getting myself into.”

 “Well, I’m impressed Kasperi. I had to force Willy and Auston to watch it.”

 He gave you a lopsided grin, “I actually enjoyed it, so I’m looking forward to this.”

 You almost felt at ease as the two of you found your seats. You tried not to think about the way that your heart was hammering in your chest. Or the fact that you were now closer to Kappy than you’d been in months. You also tried not to think about all of the girls that you’d seen him with, yet he’d gone through all of this for you.

 None of it made sense to you. He didn’t love you, yet he did something like this, which meant more than the world to you. He stopped fighting for you, yet he wanted to make you smile. He seemed to want nothing to do with you, yet his hand was resting on the armrest, palm up like he was waiting for you to take it.

 You tried and tried to figure all of this out. You kept working it over and over in your head. But everything disappeared the moment the curtain went up. By the end of the first number, you were close to crying and tightly grasping Kappy’s hand.

 If only you’d taken your eyes off the stage long enough to see the way that Kappy was smiling at you, like you were the only thing in that whole building that mattered.

[sparkles-and-trash]

2020, just some thoughts and stuff ~

First off, I wish I could give each and every person who’s replied in any way to my post from yesterday a big old hug filled with love, you guys warm my heart in ways you cannot imagine! <3 

So, that post kinda made me realize a bunch of things, like, how much good actually happened, and how I got through the bad, and it made me wanna make a similar post, just for me, but I do believe in putting things out in the universe, and this seemed like a good way, I guess! 

Things I want to achieve in 2020 ~ 

- Keep my apartment neat, clean and homey. It’s not too big, this should be rather easy to achieve! 

- Not just sit around and think about the new games I want to play, the new movies and series I want to watch, but keep re-playing and re-watching “safer” options. So much to see and do! 

- Try new writing styles, write more for me, and less of what I think others want. If people like it, wonderful, but I miss writing for the simple joy of it, and not to please other people! 

- Be more experimenting and bold with art, and actually share it to get some feedback! 

- Draw and post the things I’ve had planned for months for my Redbubble!

- Hobbies are there for fun. Not for recognition, not for money. Those may come as a bonus, but they shall not be my motivation! 

- Try not to get riled up about things that doesn’t really matter out in the world, outside this bubble. Block and move on, live and let be. 

- Work on my FOMO issues. People do not try to avoid you. And those who do, well, you’re avoiding them too, boo. 

- Spend more time outside, you’ve lost so many hours spent outside since Amanda (horse) died. More time in the woods with Zelda, more walks around the neighborhood, more time on the balcony. More time outside. 

- Keep spending time with your friends, keep the same old traditions up, keep saying yes. 

- Eat. Better. 

- Stick to your budget, no random online shopping sprees. Big girl time. 

- It’s not your task to change people online. If they’re bad people, don’t spend what little energy you have on trying to fix them. Block and move on. 

- Having bad days is a part of my illness, and being angry about it won’t make it go away. Accept them, take them as they are, and start over the next day. 

- Do not skip uni classes if you don’t have a GOOD reason. Not wanting to get up in the morning is NOT a good reason. 

- Believe in the good things in life. The good people. A reason to get up in the morning. Believe in friends, and love, and family, and art, and destiny. Just... believe. 

[this-lioness]

Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done.  This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up.  Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious.  So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side.  I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for.  I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary.  And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet.  And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over?  I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON.  Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards.  Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on!  And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up.  His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday.  I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house!  And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me.  I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks?  Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t   2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1.  You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY.   2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair.  The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory.  And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit!  I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store!  Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE.  Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone.  I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch.  It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT.  Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1.  Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2.  Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3.  Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4.  Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5.  Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6.  Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it.  That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.)  The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7.  Clean the floors (vacuum and mop).  This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done.  Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware.  We have talked about this.  He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE!  I love my house and I love taking care of it.  I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine!  I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome.  Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

[ruvelli]

//I’m a bit of an over-sharing, if you couldn’t tell (not obvious at all that I have a weird compulsion to share all the details of my life with people, right?), and I felt like adding some details about my continued absence as well as to why I’m feeling oddly better...

So, first of all I had to leave my job. I’ve already mentioned I have a certain mental/emotional problem that I’m kind of sensitive about in the “you CAN and WILL make me cry” sort of way about it...

And at my job I let two managers and one co-worker know about it over the course of four months. That is MY business to discuss and only I get to choose who knows. It is literally ILLEGAL for people at work to share my business... AND YET the entire store found out because they considered it their business to spread the word about it.

So, then people at work were either treating me even worse than they were (and it wasn’t great to begin with, but I won’t get into that can of worms) because they thought I was faking orrrrr they started treating me like I was too stupid to do basic tasks.

And the management didn’t see the big deal about this. This is something a person can and should be fired for. I was THAT pissed--angry enough to want someone to lose their lively hood over it, and I rarely think that way and mean it.

So, I decided to leave while I’m in school. Apparently, they can and would take me back if I wanted... Who knows? Maybe I will since most likely by next Summer most of these people will be gone. The turn-over there is pretty bad. Most likely, though, I’ll get a massage job (despite my bad back) instead.

School leaves me with a TON of homework. TONS. I am officially an English major now, so that means lots of English classes... and anyone who has had a basic English class (not even an advanced one like what I have now) knows English = WHY GOD WHY DO I HAVE SO MUCH HOMEWORK. 

And even better: I DIDN’T HAVE MY BOOKS FOR ALMOST TWO WEEKS. I was having a problem with the loan for a hot second. I’m good now, but dear whale in the sky did I have a lot to make up...

I like my classes, at least.

Last Wednesday I found out my friend died. This is someone I knew for years and met through his wife, an old college buddy from my trade school whom I care about quite a bit. It was sudden. I spent yesterday with his wife, my buddy, talking about it and I stayed well past my new bed time to enjoy her company.

She took me out on a boat to the middle of the sea where we parked on a sandbar and right there in the middle of the water, far from any real beach, we sunbathed in the water. It was amazing! I HAD TO WATCH OUT FOR STING RAYS. I loved it. If not for this trip to relax, without any electronics of course, I would not be feeling better today. About everything. 

It’s amazing what lounging in the sea shallows on a sunny day can do for your mental state (the sunburns were 100% worth it).

So, there you are; I was missing because I was feeling overwhelmed. 

I still have my online jobs, at least, and with the loan I’ll be okay. Plus if I can get a one or two day a week massage job I’ll be golden but for big emergencies... However, that’s what budgeting is for. xD

[anthropawlogy]

Yesterday’s Saga

CW: animal death (via stillbirth)

Yesterday morning I went in to feed the cats. We have Rosie, who we thought was pregnant but was just impacted. Apricot, our little teenage boy who is a menace. And Perdita. Our definitely pregnant cat. 

We’re working on seeing if Rose and Apricot can be socialized for a potential adopter who is interested in them. Perdita was too pregnant to spay. 

I went in, gave them their food, and looked over and saw something weird. It took me a second to process what it was, but when I did I gasped so loudly my roommate woke up and asked me if everything was okay. 

“No, it’s not okay,” I told her. 

There was a dead kitten, stillborn, next to its placenta on top of the side table. 

A lot of things went through my mind - this room is FULL of nests, why didn’t Perdita use one? I’d just seen her and she didn’t appear to be panting or in labor or distress? It hasn’t been that long since Katie ( @ivealwaysbeenthornheart - my roommate) went to bed last night, she didn’t say anything about her seeming in labor then? 

But the biggest thing on my mind was, was this the only kitten? Were there others? WHERE?

I warned Katie what was there before she came in. She is very sensitive to dead animals. She asked if she could bring me towels and dispose of it without her having to see. I obliged. And then we scoured the room. We could find no other signs of any other kittens. 

“A litter of one is rare.”

So we called the vet. Told them the situation. Had a surprisingly easy time coaxing Perdita into a carrier, which to us was a sign something was wrong. All these cats come from a feral colony, but Rosie and Apricot we have specifically because they seem socialize-able (Rosie especially). Perdita, meanwhile, was only there because she was SO pregnant. She was generally super scared of us, running and hiding. But here I had to actually touch her to get her to move. A problem. 

So we bring her into the vet. There’s only one vet in when we get there, and they have their own emergencies and appointments that need more urgent attention (we talked to one man upon leaving who said, “My cat just passed a needle and thread. It’s a miracle.” and we were like “THE NEEDLE?? D:”) so we waited. For hours. Until Perdita could be seen. 

Finally she got a checkup. Like before, she was unusually calm. They used a towel to cover her, and then examined her. He could feel something still in her abdomen. So onto ultrasound and x-ray. 

There were three kittens still inside her. Two were dead already. One still had a heartbeat. They gave us our options. Brought us our estimates. Even with a rescue discount, they were each around $1000. 

We were in over our heads (and STARVING and EXHAUSTED. At this point Katie’s and my stomachs were taking turns growling and sometimes we couldn’t tell whose was whose). We called Stray Cat Alliance, let them know the situation. And like the absolute heroes they are, they agreed to take Perdita under their umbrella and cover all the medical costs. 

This is where I feel gratefully obliged to say, please donate to SCA. 

We decided Perdita would get an immediate c-section/spay. They would try to save the one kitten. We were sent away and told we’d be updated. 

(In the meantime, the vet who adopted Waldorf from last years kittens was there, and she showed us photos of him! And he’s so healthy and looks so good! He’s about to be a year old and knowing how hard it was to keep him alive, seeing him now made me almost cry!) 

We left and stopped at literally the first restaurant we saw that looked like it would bring you refills on your drinks. We ate some decent seafood that was way out of our budget (I’ll be paying for it in ramen and beans later this month) because we were too tired and hungry and emotionally spent to make better choices. And then we proceeded to run cat-related errands for six more hours. 

We went to the pet supply store because that was on my list for the day anyway. My actual forever cat has kidney disease and needs expensive food and he was running low. So we got that and more food for the stray cat room. The pet store is in the same plaza as Pier1, and I have had a gift card to there for two years, and we knew we needed some bowls and things, so we went in there to look around and spend gift card money instead of real money. While there, we talked about what we needed for the kitten if it survived, and what we needed for the cats we were trying to socialize, because we both felt that we weren’t doing a good enough job. 

And we realized the cat room needs a chair. Specifically a chair that isn’t going to create a hiding place for the cats that we can’t access, but will be comfortable for long periods of sitting (and possibly to sit in and nurse bottle babies). But we don’t have a lot of money. 

So a thrift store chair. 

We then proceeded to go to...7? I think? 8? SO MANY thrift stores. 

Part way through this process, Katie tripped and fell, hurting her leg. And then she experienced (likely food related) nausea so bad I thought she was going to vomit in the middle of a goodwill, and we lost some time to being trapped in bathrooms. 

We finally found a chair. We had to talk down the price, and it was still double what we were hoping to pay. But. We got a chair. 

And then we remembered we needed things from Target. So we did that. 

And then we came home, got everything inside (with much effort) and then Katie, who has had an ongoing foot problem, nudged a box with her foot, heard a pop, and collapsed. And we got to have the “should we go to the ER” discussion, while she was unable to put any kind of weight on her foot, and had tears streaming down her face from pain.

(We did not go. We still might today, if things haven’t improved.) 

This whole time, we’re in touch with the vet and the rescue, waiting for news. Perdita’s surgery was pushed back several times, as more urgent cases came in. But late late last night, she got her c-section. And we were sent a little video of the kitten. 

So far both mama and baby are okay. Perdita seems to still be able to nurse, and is allowing the kitten to latch, so that’s really good news.

So we have a new chair in the cat room. We have a new kitten and a newly spayed Perdita. We won’t get them back for a few days while they’re looked after. 

Now I’ll upload some photos and videos for you all!

[nancypullen]

Silver Lining

I’ve been angry about Trump’s shutdown because I have a problem with him using the lives of American workers as political pawns.  Prior to his shutdown congress, Dems and the GOP, had reached an agreement.  Then Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter made fun of Trump so he declared that he wouldn’t sign anything and shut the government down.  He took his toys and went home. Meanwhile, federal workers still have mortgages, car payments, daycare to pay (to hold their spot, even if a parent is off work), utilities to keep on, groceries to buy,etc.  Some people that I love very much, people who are smart with their budget, who don’t live beyond their means, who save diligently every month, who do everything right - are now without a paycheck.   If we had any other president, we could all assume that common sense would reign and this shutdown would be brief and hurting Americans would not be the goal.  But we have Trump.  He has said that he’ll hold out for months or years because he knows the Dems care about hurting families and will cave.  He created the whole mess and now he’s digging in his heels.  While everyone in D.C. is posturing, hardworking families are going without.  Why should my loved ones have to blow through their savings?  Why should any family have their credit ruined or futures damaged because one giant man-baby is having a hissy fit? The silver lining that I mentioned? Because her mama is furloughed, she and the world’s cutest grandbaby are visiting.  I spent yesterday blowing bubbles and tickling a chubby tummy.  Not only is she beautiful, she’s smart.  At 11 months she says dog, cat, Dada, and she’s doing algebra.  Okay, maybe she’s not doing algebra - but how would I know? I never figured it out so maybe that’s what she’s babbling about.  She is the happiest little girl - such a sunny disposition and a ready laugh.  She’s a delight from her head to her toes.  Doesn’t mean I’m not furious about the situation that allowed the visit, but this is definitely a bright spot in the whole mess.   I’m not allowed to share photos or video of her on this blog, but trust that all is well on our little patch and we’re soaking up baby kisses and loving every minute of it.  Also, if you’re so moved, call your senator/s and demand an end to this juvenile nonsense.  The Senate Majority Leader  (McConnell) is not even allowing a vote, preferring to continue holding American workers hostage over Trump’s vanity wall.  Won’t they be surprised if they ever get a wall up and Mexico just builds stairs on their side?  Wasting billions while American families try to figure out where next week’s groceries will come from - despicable! Okay, rant over.  Back to blowing bubbles and tickling tummies.

[bigskydreaming]

hope this isnt too personal, but does your motel give a discount if you book a longer stay? i know you are gonna be looking for an apartment, but since you are there now, is there a certain amount of time that they start giving a discount? that way if someone is unsure of what to donate at least they have some type of number in mind, if that makes sense

Hey, no worries on the question front, I don’t mind answering. This is probably gonna get longer/more involved than you needed, but a few people have asked me similar questions and so its worth it probably to make a post that covers all of them in depth, all in one go to save time. So, your answer’s in here lol, take what you need and ignore what you don’t! Haha.

So yes, the motel I’m staying at, they give me about as much of a discount as they give anyone, and have for awhile, since I’ve been here pretty consistently since like…August, lol. So, they charge me $85 per day instead of their usual $95 for weekdays and $115 for weekends, and yup, its still a very rundown roach motel, so if you think that seems way expensive, like…you’re not wrong, but also…its LA. *Shrugs* 

This isn’t to say that there’s not cheaper motels anywhere in LA, there’s just a couple other pretty critical factors involved there. First, it’s the cheapest I’ve found in my area, which is the area where I’ve been looking for an apartment, a part of town I’m familiar with, can get around to most places I need to go on foot, as well as having a pretty easy straightforward route to all the places I eventually need to go for my ongoing treatment/procedures. And yeah, this area is far from the cheapest in LA to live, but its not impossible either. There are one bedrooms in this area for around $1,400 a month, which again is expensive, but since my various issues have made finding a roommate/renting a room from total strangers pretty hard to find and living by myself is still my likeliest option, it is what it is. And when you consider that even in this motel I’ve been basically paying $2,600 a month, like…when I get I finally get into a place, that’ll still ease things for me tremendously because even a one bedroom at a price like that is a thousand bucks a month I won’t have to make.

And one of the other big factors is that mobility is a huge issue for me. I don’t actually think that public transpo is as bad of an issue in LA as a lot of people make it out to be - I mean, most cities do it better and the buses and metros can be pretty unreliable sometimes, but I’ve never had a huge problem using it to get to most places in the city when I’ve been without a car in the past. But the biggest drawback to my physical condition these days isn’t actually the pain or headaches, like, they suck but I can deal with them. It’s the vertigo that trips me up, because my equilibrium is all fucked and can shift randomly like with zero warning. So walking pretty much anywhere I can be moving along fine and then bam, I’m staggering like I’m drunk or even more fun, just fall flat on my ass. So walking nowadays is a very slow affair for me, not because of my pace, but because I have to keep stopping and starting and leaning up against walls any time I feel a new bout of vertigo start coming and need some extra balance until it passes. 

(Random Sidebar, but Pokemon Go is such an unexpected lifesaver, lmao, I can’t even tell you. I fucking love that thing and have it out anywhere I go, because its soooooo much better having to stop randomly in the middle of the sidewalk and hug a wall when people going by can see it and go oh he’s just trying to catch a Pokemon or battle that Gym instead of like, assuming you’re on a ten am bender or tripping out or something). 

Anyway, all of that makes it pretty much impossible to predict how long it’ll take me to walk places, and which makes it definitely impossible to catch an already unreliable bus or metro on time unless I leave way in advance to catch a bus that’s even a mile away. And most places in LA can be reached by bus or metro, but you usually have to take a lot of transfers, there’s not a lot of straight shots from A to B, and that’s what really gets me. Because the odds of me making it to the bus stop I gotta walk to after getting off at one spot and actually catch the next bus when my apps tell me to based on the routes I mapped out…they’re not good. LOL. And Uber gets expensive fast when trying to make it around LA, its not really an alternative when your budget is stretched as thin as you can make it already.

So traveling anywhere these days is typically a day long affair for me, no matter where I’m going. So I’ve definitely explored trying to stay in other cheaper locations or renting airbnbs which have better discounts for longer stays, but when you factor in my mobility issues and usual travel times…its not really as feasible as it seems at first glance. The apartment hunt is a big part of that….I pretty much HAVE to stay in the same area as I apartment hunt, since I have to do that on foot or else waste whole hours missing buses and waiting for the next ones, and with as long as it takes me to walk places….when I’ve tried staying in cheaper motels further away, by the time I even get to where I’m actually searching for apartments, I’m lucky if I can make it to two or three different locations to even get an application, before I have to start trekking back to where I’m staying.

And every day I spend apartment hunting or even traveling is a day that’s pretty much a complete wash as far as work goes. Like, with my savings looooong since wiped out completely, I live day to day, spending money about as quickly as I make it. Which means at the prices I’m talking, $85 a day for motel plus $10-$15 for food that day, (since the only way to get an actual meal without a kitchen or easy access to a nearby food bank or shelter is any take out places in the area, which add up fast) - essentially, I’ve been working nonstop every single day I can for at least the past seven months, busting my ass to make a minimum of $100 bucks a day, because that’s pretty much what it costs for me to keep just treading water at the current status quo. So anything short of a hundred dollars I make in a day tends to go immediately towards the cost of surviving, and anything more than that gets saved up to allow me even like a single day of apartment hunting or other necessary travel. Because a day I have to spend entirely walking and busing around is a day there’s no chance of me making $100, so I can only do that in the first place when I’ve managed to save up enough to take a day ‘off’ from work. 

Which, lol, means what is a day off, even? I can’t remember, haha, there’s nothing restful or relaxing about the days I have to spend traveling or walking around, let alone the days where I just can’t find enough work to make my $100. Same reason homeless shelters aren’t really viable for me at the moment. I’ve stayed in a couple at a few points in the past, years ago, and sure they’re not fun but its like, whatever, you know. But in my current state like….not spending money on a motel for the day(s) I’m staying in a shelter doesn’t actually mean I’m saving money if I’m not making even that much per day while in a shelter. Because if I can’t even get online to work while there and I end up having to travel even just to a Starbucks (with all my stuff) to work for the day, like, that already substantially cuts into how much time I actually have to work and how stressed I am which affects productivity, etc….which means it would end up taking two or three days to make as much as I need for even one day in a motel.  And so it doesn’t really save me money, it just makes it easier to fall into the trap of not being able to ever get back OUT of the shelter and into somewhere else again without any real benefit in the first place.

So, all of that also means that even days spent traveling to cheaper motels or airbnbs end up costing me just as much in lost work as I save in cheaper rent. Also, my material possessions at the moment are just few enough that I can take them all with me when I move from place to place, but that’s still enough that when even walking around and taking buses empty handed is….An Adventure, like….doing so while lugging all your shit in a couple bags that are pretty heavy when its been over a year since your last workout and you’re scrawnier than you’ve ever been in your life, lmao, like….that’s A Super Fun Adventure that tbh I try and avoid as much as humanly possible. The nearest laundromat from where I am is only a half mile away, and Laundry Day alone is so much fun I just can’t even, lolol.

And all of that’s what led to me posting my first donation post last month and this one, because when you’re only surviving on the money you make each day, a single day of not making your quota can wipe you out. I was sick for like, three days at the start of last month and that was all it took to set me impossibly behind and with peoples’ donations being the only way I managed to get on top of shit again. But then on top of that, December was always gonna be a hard month to keep meeting my daily work quota cuz of people busy with and budgeting for the holidays, and so I still only scraped by the later weeks in the month thanks to the donations I had saved from that first post and still wound up right back here in the same kinda position anyway. I’m actually a couple days behind on rent again, hence why I posted that new post yesterday, but I’ve been able to stay just under Too Far Behind, like at a point where I’m still paying something day by day so they’re giving me a chance to catch up this time. (And much thanks to the people who already donated yesterday and this morning, you’ve helped me eat and close that gap and between that and work I’m getting closer to back on top of that again, so I can start saving up to resume my apartment search and actually have money to give one when I find it).

Anyway, that should cover most of the questions I’ve gotten, lol, in my usual TMI sort of way. But idk, not anything to do with any of the anons I’ve had about this, but I think its useful for people to have more detailed breakdowns of stuff like that in general, because until someone’s been at the point of homelessness themselves, I think most people really don’t have any real sense of what that entails or how it happens. And that’s purely on the perception we’re given by society of homelessness and who ends up homeless and why. The poorer you get or the less able-bodied or ‘high-functioning’ (ugh hate that phrase but for lack of a better known one) you become, the more expensive it ends up being to survive, because of how fewer options society provides for you to choose from like….across the board, in every thing you do or need. And then society likes to point out the hail mary’s they grudgingly put in place to ‘catch’ the people who inevitably fall through the cracks as a result, like homeless shelters, etc, without really factoring in how little infrastructure is in place to ever actually get people back OUT of that and onto their feet again. 

And just as a general aside, but man do I haaaaaaaaate the language about homeless people winding up that way because they’re lazy, like lolololol. There is NOTHING comfortable about sleeping on the sidewalk in forty degree weather, and that’s the thing about ‘laziness’. It only actually exists when someone has a certain level of comfort, where enough of their needs are met that they can afford to put off doing something because they simply don’t want to do it right now. Nobody can afford to put off eating or having a bed to sleep in because they simply don’t want to make sure they eat or sleep that day. If a person’s not ‘productive’ enough to eat or have somewhere to sleep for a night, there’s a million reasons why that might be or what’s holding them back, but I can guarantee its not laziness.  For every homeless person you’ve ever seen sleeping on the sidewalk, I promise you there’s a person who has a story not all that innately different from mine, and one where the days, weeks or even months prior to them ending up sleeping on the street, they first were doing everything they were physically, mentally and emotionally capable of doing to KEEP from being that destitute.

But its the law of diminishing returns. If you’re already doing every single thing you possibly can without improving your situation, the only things that will ever actually improve it or help you reach a more sustainable environment/productivity level are things that come from OUTSIDE you and your own efforts, where and how other people help you out. You simply can not give anymore than you already give towards the task of surviving, when that is already literally ALL you are doing day in and day out. Some people get that outside help or support or borrowed energy from their family and never have to turn to friends or from there to strangers. Some people just don’t have that option.

And without that outside help, like, your own efforts to improve your situation and then simply to just survive…..that’s the diminishing returns part. Inevitably, they’re only going to get less and less effective, because none of us are perpetual motion machines. We can’t keep going forever and ever without ever having a chance to recharge, refuel, replenish ourselves. It’s the entropy of existence. Everything costs energy. And the harder you have to struggle to stay alive, the more energy it costs. The more you use up. The faster you fade. *Shrugs*

It’s why I firmly and 100% believe that the single most defiant act a person can make in an unfair world is to look at someone else who’s stuck in a cycle of entropic decay, who you see having their energy eaten faster and faster by an uncaring universe, and you find a way to share some of yours with them and in doing so tell the universe “not today, fucker, not on my watch. Screw your laws and your science, I’m gonna make sure they last even just a little bit longer, no matter what your fucked up physics has to say about it.”

And yeah, I freely admit that’s 100% self-serving at the moment and thus easy to say as someone who like, obviously needs and wants peoples’ help, lmao, but whatever. Still true whether its applied to me or someone else, and I’ve said it before things got this bad for me and I’ll say it again once things are better. 

Every time you help keep alive someone who by their own words is not ready to be done fighting yet, that’s a time you defied the universe and told it that it doesn’t always get what it wants either, and it can go fuck itself.

[bookwormbambi]

WELP

(08/28/2018)

OKAY. So it’s the second day of classes and I’m just so very irked :-) I think I talked about this before but I spent weeks planning out the perfect schedule so I could have the most organized semester of my life. I converted half of my room into an office space so I could have a classroom setup, I planned out healthy study snacks and whether it was better to make coffee right when I wake up or wait until after my first class, I planned everything down to the last detail so it would all be perfect.  THEN MY INSTRUCTORS HAPPENED.

First, as a disclaimer for those of you who are new to college, your instructors do not have to send you information about the class until the first day of instruction - and most of them won’t. With online classes especially, the course does not have to be posted until the end of the first day, and if you schedule your life to do all of your classes first thing in the morning like I did, it can put a damper on things.

So I meticulously planned everything to the last detail - except for binders, which I wait until the class starts to do so I can model it off of the class setup (post on that probably coming on Sunday) - went to bed on time, got my butt up before the sun was even up and was at my desk ready to go at 7:00 am. I logged into the LMS and right off the bat noticed that still only 3 out of 5 classes had been posted, but I at least had math up, which was my first class of the day. So I get out my materials, log into MyMathLab and breeze through the first section, even finishing about twenty minutes early. I’m feeling good and ready to go, so I jump back into the LMS to start Pharmacology, but it still hasn’t been posted. Okay relax, it’s like 8am, maybe it’ll be up later. So I wait, and refresh the page. Over, and over, and over. Get some other work done, clean the house, do the laundry, hitting refresh every couple of minutes, waiting. Textbooks haven’t been delivered yet so I really have nothing to do. Then around 1 o’clock, I jump into the course page. Sociology has been moved from future courses to current courses, but hasn’t been published yet. Okay, well I’m doing soc tomorrow and she doesn’t have to post it until tonight so no big deal. Pharmacology, however, is still sitting in future courses. Then it clicked. Is this a late start class?? So I jump into my registration log and, sure enough, the freaking class doesn’t start for almost two months. I overlooked it. I spent $115 on the book that I could’ve waited two months to buy and used the money to increase my food budget, or put in my savings, or anything. So Day 1 of classes, and I sat around for five hours waiting for a class that doesn’t start for two months.

Then it clicked a second time. I have to rewrite my schedule. The one that I spent weeks meticulously planning out. Because there is one less class and an extra 3 hours a week I can use for my other classes, or my personal life, or something. So I flip out, grab some graph paper and pens, and start color coding. (I color code when I’m stressed, really it’s where my best work comes from) So I get a rough edit of my schedule, decide to see how Day 2 goes and finish it up.

THEN DAY 2 HAPPENED. A little bit harder to get out bed this morning, but I still got up on time, made my coffee more for the sake of warming up than waking up, and once again my butt was in the chair at 7:00 am, ready to go. I log into the LMS to start psychology, and right away notice soc still hasn’t been published. It was supposed to be up by the end of yesterday. Okay dude, the sun is barely up, this lady might not even be awake yet. Get through psych first and hope that it’s up by 8:45 so you can work on it. So I read through an incredibly boring psych lecture without my glasses (sleepy child forgets to wear them), got about 2/3 through the lecture before the alarm goes off, and got ready for sociology to be published because school started yesterday and it had to be published by then. But NOPE. Still not published. At this point the coffee kicked in so I proceeded to spend the next hour bouncing off the walls and planning the rest of my day since I don’t work and my sister’s birthday is tomorrow and I want it to be perfect (long story but she went to so much trouble for me on mine) then eventually realize I’ve been bouncing off the walls for an hour and not actually doing anything so I sit back down and, like yesterday, keep refreshing the page, waiting for the course to be published, which it still isn’t. I started goofing around on the website and found my graduation checklist. There are problems. I proceed to have another meltdown and conclude that my life is over (h you college), then almost impulsively bought a train ticket to go to campus (two hours away) so I could crash a ballet class and get an add code to add a sixth class and force myself to travel all the way to campus twice a week for one stinking class. Then had a second meltdown because I miss dancing so much but there are studios here that will cost me a lot less and stop my from dropping $200 for one class twice a week. So now it’s just past noon, I’m overly caffeinated and have been awake for almost six hours already, bought a really pretty leotard, and am now waiting for my textbooks to be delivered (most likely sometime today if not tomorrow bc I paid extra for rushed shipping which I wouldn’t have bothered if I knew pharmacology didn’t start til the end of OCTOBER) so I can read the sociology text and hope to god I’m learning the right thing because now I’m behind and have no clear schedule bc everything fell apart and I’m super irked :-)

(This overly-caffeinated rant was brought to you by Dunkin’ Donuts French Vanilla Roast ty for enduring)

[venussinclair3]

Fun While It Lasted

Disclaimer? I haven’t written in a long time so I’m a little rusty but yeah this is just something short that I kind of liked. Would really appreciate constructive feedback (please be nice I’m sensitive)! Should I continue this? Should I put it on Wattpad? Anyway, enjoy! 

"You live next door yet you somehow always take forever to get here." She was laying in bed in a pink oversized shirt when he snuck through her window.

"Sorry, I was looking for my crayons." His hands were empty, "Couldn't find them. Can I use yours?" He plastered a large smile on his face because who could say no to such a cute face?

"This was your idea you know. How are you going to propose we draw each other and have no supplies whatsoever?" She said as she walked to the bookcase that stood in the back of her room. The third shelf was riddled with paintbrushes, sharpies, and crayons. She had meant to clean it last week but never found the time. Maybe she'll get to it next week.

"Because I knew my good friend Oasis would have my back." He jumped on her bed and took off his green converses before grabbing Bimbo. 

Bimbo was as old as their friendship. Oasis had received the teddy bear on her fifth birthday, the same day he knocked down her birthday cake because he was running recklessly. She clung on to Bimbo as she cried herself to sleep that night and swore to hate him for as long as she lived. 

There was a cake on the table when she went downstairs the next morning, "Blue's mom made it as a way of saying sorry about what happened yesterday." Her mother cut her a slice and gave it to her. It was better than she could have ever imagined. The chocolate cake covered in pink fondant danced in her mouth as the richness of the chocolate chips exploded. She hugged Bimbo tight while devouring the cake, deciding that maybe the little boy wasn't as bad as she thought.

Oasis dumped the supplies on her bed and sat across from Blue, her legs crossed, sketchbook in hand, "My drawing is going to be better than yours." 

"Doubt it. I'm a genius." And he was. Straight A student since fifth grade, Blue was the smartest boy in his class. He won the science fair three times in a row and lied his way out of trouble all the time. He lied Oasis out of trouble too because she could never do it herself. 

They both got to work, each with a different method: Oasis lightly drew an outline; Blue began working on her left eye. The sounds of the TV downstairs leaked into her bedroom. The Property Brothers were debating over which color they should paint the kitchen of a Nashville home they were working on. "I think the kitchen should be white" mumbled Blue, having started the right eye.

"What?" asked Oasis as she looked up from her sketch.

"Nothing. Where are your speakers? I wanna play some music." She pointed to the bookcase, second shelf.

"Don't play anything stupid."

"Why are your parents home?"

"No, I just don't want to listen to anything stupid."

He chuckled. Bringing the speaker onto the bed and connecting it to his phone, I Wanna Be Yours by Artic Monkeys enveloped them. They both began bobbing their heads. 

They played this song when they snuck out for the first time. Oasis jumped out her window and was pretty sure she had broken something, but the adrenaline of defying her parents rushed through her body to numb the pain. By the time she reached the park and met up with Blue, the only thing on her mind was how much fun they were going to have at Mielle's party. And they did have fun. They danced, ate, and drank. She successfully snuck back home with Blue's help and fell asleep the second her head hit her pillow. What she had failed to consider was that the party was on a Thursday night, that her parents would never let her miss a day of school and she was a shit actress. She went to school hungover and was grounded for a month. Blue was company during her punishment.

"You have a really sharp jawline" Oasis stated. She had finally finished with the outline of his face. He looked at her and grinned, taking it as a compliment rather than an observation.

"Thank you, princess." Nothing got under her skin more than that nickname. They fell silent again, a silence she was comfortable with, but he wasn't. As he drew her nose, he begged for her to say something.  Anything to convince him that she wasn't mad at him, that they were still friends, that she wasn't just tolerating him.

"Have you seen the new house yet?" Thank god. His prayers were answered when she raised the question so he spoke without thinking, "Yeah the new house is great! My room is way bigger and we even have a dishwasher, although I doubt my mom will even want to use it. She'll probably still make me wash them by hand because that woman hates me. Oh and the neighborhood is super nice and I met the girl next door. She's really cool. We've been texting and stuff.” His enthusiasm stung. Blue was moving to Chicago. He was moving 11 hours and 54 minutes away. And he was excited about it. And maybe she shouldn't take it so personally, but when her best friend was rambling about how cool his neighbor is and how he's been talking to her for a while, she couldn't help but feel as if she was about to be replaced. She faked a smile and said, "That sounds exciting. Can't wait to visit you in the summer." Oasis was a shit actress. None of what he said sounded exciting to her, "I'll miss you."

She added another hair stroke to his thick, straight eyebrows and refused to look up because she couldn't promise herself she won't cry. Blue didn't take her eyes off of her for a while. He stared at the way the corners of her round lips curved downward, making it look like she was always sad about something. "I just think it's stupid to move the summer before your senior year." He sighed, "Oasis." The tip of her ears got red as her name escaped from his lips. 

The last time he had called her “Oasis” was two weeks ago. She had snuck into his room after he blew up her phone, crying that it was urgent. Each time he had told her that it was urgent, it never was. She hopped through his window to find him at his desk, two Surfer Cooler Capri Sun in front of him. "Oasis, I'm moving in two months." She stopped mid sip. Her brown eyes ran across his face, scanning it for any sign that could give away this sick joke. There was no sign. He was serious. Blue was leaving New York.

It wasn't fair to be mad at him for moving. It's not like he could say no. But she had to be mad at someone. She decided the universe was to blame. "Have you made your college list yet?" he asked in a weak attempt to change the subject. She looked at the way his red lips were slightly open as he anticipated her answer, " Not really. Community college or NYU or Howard. I don't know. You?" 

"No idea either. Maybe an Ivy?" He knew he was Dartmouth material but he still sought her approval. He always had.

He went shopping with her right before the eighth-grade dance. They both didn't have dates so they decided to go together as friends. They walked into the Old Navy with "Sale" signs plastered in the front. She thought the signs were useless at this point because when were they not having a sale of some kind? He walked into the dressing room with several shirts out of his $20 budget, and once he had tried them all on, Blue marched to where she was sitting, impatiently waiting for him. 

"You are not wearing that purple button up."

"Why?" He cried.

"It's going to clash with my dress and it's literally hideous." She walked back to the rack of button-ups and picked out a green dress shirt for him. "You look so much better in green." Green was his favorite color ever since. They dominated the dance floor at the event and she won a raffle for a Bosse speaker. They spent the next weeks dismantling rumors that they were dating. 

"I already picture you thriving at MIT." They both chuckled. He reached for the black to start coloring in the curls of her afro; she reached for the orange to recreate his buzzcut. They fell silent again. "I'll miss you too." She offered him a small smile but that couldn't mask the sadness of her eyes. "We can still facetime and text every day," Blue offered. 

"You know it won't be the same." He did know that but his hope lied in the fact that if he never said it out loud, it would be less true. "I take that back. You're more of a Cornell type." Another weak attempt at changing the subject but he went along with it, " I think NYU might be good for you. You'll get to stay close to your sister." 

Moya was a prodigy. She began piano lessons at three, and seven years later she played at their aunt's wedding during the bridal entrance. "I think Moya will be fine without me. She'll get even more attention from my parents if I'm gone." The red of his lips was hard to replicate. It lay somewhere between crimson and cherry. "I'll miss that little devil. She promised she was going to compose me a song but never did."

"Pretty sure she had a crush on you." Blue burst into laughter so loud, Oasis barely realized that the album had started all over again and I Wanna Be Yours was playing. "Seriously?" He was in disbelief.

"Yeah, she would always ask when you were coming over and would try to hang out with us all the time."

He wiped the tear from the corner of his eye, "That's adorable." He added the finishing touches to her face: the scar on her chin that she got after he pushed her a little too hard and she fell, the beauty mark right above her lip, the curl at the top of her hair which she complained never behaved like the rest. "Finished." She said. She ripped the page from her sketchbook and walked to the bookcase once more. She grabbed two sheet protectors that were tucked between stacks of books and slipped the drawing inside. He did the same. She stared at the image of Blue, afraid that if she didn't memorize the details of his visage, he would walk out of her room and she would forget him. Forget the memories they created together. The secrets they shared together. She was afraid to forget how much she loved him. 

He handed her his drawing and as she saw how he had captured her beauty with nothing but her color pencils, she said, "I'm coming to terms with the fact that we weren't meant to be in each other's lives forever. But it was fun while it lasted...right?"

[swanqueeneverafter]

11. What Happened to Frederick, Pt.4

Storybrooke. The Town Line. (Emma is investigating Kathryn’s crashed car. Sidney arrives on the scene with a camera.) Sidney: “You mind if I take a look, too?” Emma: “What for?” Sidney: “Well, just because Regina got me fired from The Mirror, doesn’t mean I can’t do a little freelance reporting. So, what do we got here?” Emma: “Gym teacher found this thing on the side of the road abandoned, no one around. Registered to Kathryn Nolan. She’s MIA.” Sidney: “Kathryn Nolan, whose husband very publicly left her? I mean, the story writes itself. If I get a scoop like that, The Daily Mirror would have no choice but to take me back.” Emma: “Calm down, tiger. You don’t work for Regina anymore. Kathryn got accepted to law school in Boston. Maybe, after David dumped her, she decided to leave town. Car broke down, she hitched the rest of the way. That’s what I would do if I was running away from my problems.” (Emma opens the trunk of the car. There is a suitcase inside.) Sidney: “And, uh, would you leave your clothes in the car?” Emma: “Time to pull Kathryn’s phone records and find out who she spoke to last.” Sidney: “Yeah, you know, if you go through the Sheriff’s Department, it’ll take you days to get those. I’ve got a contact over at the phone company, who used to help me out when I was at the newspaper. I can get those in a couple hours.” Emma: “Great. Call me the minute you get your hands on those phone records.”(David’s truck pulls up along the side of the road.) Sidney: “There he is.” Emma: “Time to break the news.” Sidney: “You really think he doesn’t know?” Emma: “I’m about to find out.”

Volunteer Centre. (Mary Margaret is filling out forms at a table at the Volunteer Centre. Leroy enters.) Leroy: “Where can I sign up? (Mary Margaret ignores him:) What? I want to volunteer to sell candles.” Mary Margaret: “No, you don’t. You made that very clear this morning at Granny’s.” Leroy: “Well… Maybe, I saw the light. I mean, maybe somebody showed it to me. What difference does it make, sister? It looks like you can use all the help you can get.” Mary Margaret: “Okay, I need help manning the candle booth. No swearing, no drinking, and I get to call all the shots.” (On the other side of the room, Astrid and Mother Superior are talking.) Mother Superior: “You ordered how many tanks of helium?” Astrid: “I-I meant to order twelve.” Mother Superior: “You ordered twelve dozen. Return them.” Astrid: “There are no refunds.” Mother Superior: “We needed that money – you knew that. You know how he feels about us. You fix this, Sister Astrid. You fix it now.” (Mother Superior leaves. Leroy, who overheard the exchange, walks over to Astrid.) Leroy: “Hey. What’s the problem?” Astrid: “The problem is, I’m an idiot. We get a stipend each year for expenses, and it’s all carefully budgeted except for the part where I spent it all. On helium. And now we can’t pay our rent.” Leroy: “So, you’ll make it up when you get your next stipend.” Astrid: “Which isn’t till next month. The rent is due next week. And the only income we have are these candles.” Leroy: “Well, so how many do you need to sell?” Astrid: “Like, a thousand.” Leroy: “How many did you sell last year?” Astrid: “Forty-two.” Leroy: “Ask your landlord to cut you a break.” Astrid: “Mr. Gold doesn’t offer much leeway.” Leroy: “Mr. Gold’s your landlord?” Astrid: “If we miss a payment, we’re out. And then they’ll reassign us, and we’ll have to leave Storybrooke.” Leroy: “No, you won’t. You know why you only sold forty-two last year? Because you didn’t have me. This year, we’re going to sell all of them.” Astrid: “Wow! Leroy, I guess you really are my hero.” Storybrooke. The Town Line. (David and Emma are still at the crash site.) David: “She’s just gone?” Emma: “You really don’t know anything, do you?” David: “I-I don’t… I don’t understand. What happened?” Emma: “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out. What can you tell me? When was the last time you spoke to Kathryn?” David: “Yesterday afternoon.” Emma: “Okay, look. I know there has been lies and deceit, and I’m really not judging you, but is that the truth?” David: “Yes. I haven’t spoken to her since we… I ended things. And I came home yesterday, and all her things were gone. I assumed she was going to Boston. That’s what she told me. Am I a suspect or something?” Emma: “No. I know when people are telling the truth, David, and you are. She hasn’t even been gone twenty-four hours. She’s not even technically missing. But, if she is, trust me – I will find her.”

Storybrooke. Present. Granny’s Bed and Breakfast. (Tongs are used to break a lock. Opening the box, the Stranger takes out Henry’s book and takes a closer look.) Storybrooke, Mayor's Office. (Regina Mills has given Henry a gift.) Regina: “Oh, go on; open it!” Henry: “What's the occasion?” Regina: “The occasion is I love you. Go on. (Henry opens it. Regina giggles. It is a handheld game:) Now, I know you miss your book but with this, you can do the heroics. You can save the princesses... (Enticingly:) you can be the hero. (Henry pokes at the game. Regina sighs:) Henry, you have to believe me, I didn’t want you to lose your book. If it’s out there, we’ll get it back.” Henry: “Good luck. It’s probably gone and it’s probably never coming back.” (There is a knock on the door. It opens to reveal Mr. Gold.) Mr. Gold: “Madam Mayor, do you have a min—oh, I'm sorry.“ Regina: “That’s quite all right... (To Henry:) Henry, why don't you get home and start your homework? I'll be there in a bit and we can have dinner. (Exit Henry. To Mr. Gold:) What do you want?” Mr. Gold: “I need a favour.” Regina: “You need a favour from me?” Mr. Gold: “Well, as you know, there are battery charges against me…pending. I really don’t relish the thought of spending any more time locked up in a cage. Now, someone with your influence can make the D.A. suddenly realize what a flimsy case they have. Isn’t that right… Your Majesty?” Regina: (Intrigued:) “What do I get out of it?” (Rumple merely smiles at this.)

Storybrooke. Present. Granny’s Diner. (Rather than head home and do his homework, Henry is busily writing down characters who appear in his book. The Stranger watches Henry.) Stranger: “What’cha working on?” Henry: “No time to talk. I got to write it all down before I forget.” Stranger: “Yeah, I hate it when great ideas slip away from me.” Henry: “They’re not my ideas. They’re stories from a book that I lost.” Stranger: (Sitting down beside Henry:) “Must be a hell of a book. What’s it about?” (Trying to get a look at the paper.) Henry: (Still paying attention to his drawing:) “Stuff.” Stranger: “Sounds exciting.” Henry: (Looking at him:) “You seem awfully interested in me and my book.” Stranger: “Well, I’m just being neighborly.” Henry: “What are you doing in Storybrooke?” Stranger: "I’m a writer.” Henry: “You can write anywhere. What are you really doing here?” Stranger: (Leaning closer and whispering:) “Stuff. (Standing up to leave:) Good luck with the stories.” The Miner’s Day Festival. (Mary Margaret and Leroy are trying to sell candles at their booth.) Mary Margaret: “Buy your Miner’s Day candles here! Handmade by Storybrooke’s very own nuns! Light your way to a good cause! By buying a candle… This isn’t working.” Leroy: “You’re right. We should pack it up.” Mary Margaret: “Now you’re quitting?” Leroy: “If the customers won’t come to us, we got to go to them – door to door.” Mary Margaret: “If they hate us here, what makes you think they’ll like us in their homes?” Leroy: “Exactly. They’ll pay us just to leave.” (Elsewhere at the festival, Sidney is playing ring toss. Emma walks up to him.) Emma: “What the hell are you doing?” Sidney: “What’s happening?” Emma: “I just got off the phone with Kathryn’s school in Boston. Registration was this morning, and she never showed up.” Sidney: “Something did happen.” Emma: “It looks that way.” (Mary Margaret and Leroy rush past, but Mary Margaret stops when she sees Emma.) Mary Margaret: “Oh, Emma! Help me out! What’s more sympathetic. Um, scarf or no scarf?” Emma: “Sc-Scarf.” Mary Margaret: “Okay.” Leroy: “Come on – we’re on a schedule.” Mary Margaret: “Oh, uh, thank you. Got to go.” (Mary Margaret and Leroy run off.) Sidney: “Why didn’t you say anything? You’re looking for a suspect. Someone with a motive. Pixie cut over there has got one a mile high.” Emma: “She had nothing to do with anything. Trust me.” Sidney: “But she’s the one-” Emma: “Trust me – I know her. Just get me those phone records.” (Mary Margaret and Leroy go to their first house. A man eating a carrot answers the door. A woman then appears beside him.) Mary Margaret: “ Hi. We’re selling candles for Miners Day.” Woman: “We’re not interested.” (She shuts the door. Mary Margaret and Leroy try several more houses, but have the door slammed in their face every time.)

Storybrooke Sheriff’s Station. Later That Day. (At the station, Emma is looking at pictures from the crash site on a bulletin board. Sidney enters with a folder.) Emma: “You find something?” Sidney: (He hands Emma the folder:) “Kathryn’s phone records. Every call she made the day she crashed her car. Including an eight minute call between her and David within an hour of the accident.” Emma: “That’s not possible. He said he didn’t speak to her that day.” Sidney: “Then, he’s lying.” Emma: “No. I know when someone is lying, and David-” Sidney: “It’s right here on paper, Emma. Phone records don’t lie – people do. And our friend David does it better than most. Don’t beat yourself up over this. You’re not the only person David fooled.” Storybrooke. Street in front of Granny's Diner. (The Stranger exits Granny's Diner as Emma Swan walks by.) Emma: “Fancy seeing you here.” Stranger: “Imagine that. Actually I've been meaning to bump into you. Matter of fact, I was hoping we might grab that drink you promised.” Emma: “Is that you asking me out?” Stranger: “Well, if putting a label on it makes you feel more comfortable, sure. Let's call it a date.” Emma: “I thought you came here to write, find inspiration.” Stranger: “Well, I'm optimistic about our date.” Emma: “See, I have a policy. I won't go out with guys who won't tell me their names. I find it weeds out the ones who keep secrets, like they're already married or they... store body parts in their freezer. It was nice talkin' to you.” Stranger: “It's August. (Emma stops, turns:) August W. Booth.” Emma: “Really? With the middle initial?” August: “W's for Wayne. So there goes your reason.” Emma: (Sighs:) “Fine. You gonna come in?” August: (Hesitates:) “Sure, but not here. (Motions toward his bike:) Hop on.” Emma: “You want me to get on the back of that bike?” August: “That's what ‘hop on’ means.” Emma: “How about if we go somewhere, I drive?” August: “How about you stop having to control everything and take a leap of faith? You owe me a drink, hop on. I know a good watering hole.” Granny: (Behind Emma:) “If you don't, I will!” (Emma looks at the August begrudgingly, puts on a helmet, and gets on the bike. Granny smiles as they ride off together.)