#the second problem is this dude was our realtor once and I just

[ashortstoryaboutlove]

I suspect this person I knew in HS is drinking the conservative media kool aid (but I have no idea what garbage they’re spewing atm bc I actively try to avoid it), but he was ranting on Facebook about how Walz honeymooned in China *gasp* and has been there a bunch of times *clutches pearls* thus he is a pure communist and a danger to America.

I just

I wonder if he would consider me watching Chinese dramas a threat to America?

I hope so bc I hate whatever it is that people like him want our country to be

[queenk00k]

but what if we were pure gold all along? jj maybank (chapter 3)

Summary: After the assumed death of their best friend, the Pogues are falling apart at the seams. With Pope and Kiara getting closer and JJ left with nowhere to go, he finds himself left to his own devices. Feeling lost and rejected, his luck seems to turn when he meets Scarlett - a Kook who doesn’t treat him like shit and has an affinity for partying. JJ gets sucked into her world as she promises to help him forget.

How much longer can he keep running from his demons? And what happens when he starts sharing a bed with one?

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, child abuse, angst, sexual content, drug use, underage drinking.

Author’s note: Hi all, this is my multi-chapter fic I’ve been working on. My oneshots & Rafe series have taken off so I thought it was time to share this one too. Let me know what you think!

Word count: 2K

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

the one where JJ throws caution to the wind (but when was he ever cautious anyway?)

JJ has woken up in pretty strange locations before. The porch steps of the Chateau, the hull of the HMS Pogue, the Boneyard. Nothing was stranger than waking up on a couch in a Kook’s bedroom, who he’d really only spoken to twice. The couch was surprisingly soft, and JJ finds that he actually had one of the best sleeps he’s had in, well, he can’t quite remember how long.

That doesn’t erase how completely fucking weird it is that he not only went home with a Kook but spent the whole night there.

JJ sits up and is quietly thankful Scarlett appears to have been awake for a while; she’s dressed and perched on the end of her bed in a similar position to the night before. She’s also biting her fingernails, chipping away the black nail polish with her teeth. This brings JJ some comfort – she’s clearly feeling as unsettled as he is.

He clears his throat and Scarlett turns to look at him, smiling cautiously. “Hey,” she says. “You feeling okay?”

JJ nods and stands up. “Yeah, yeah I’m good thanks.”

“Sleep alright?”

“Mmmhmm.”

An awkward pause.

“Listen,” JJ says as he moves towards the door. “I really appreciate what you did for me and all but I gotta go. Honestly, I don’t understand why you let me stay on your couch-”

Scarlett scoffs. “You really think that low of me? You crashed your motorbike in the middle of the night and looked another blow from death. What was I going to do? Leave you on the side of the road?”

JJ is taken aback; he didn’t expect her to answer like that.

“You’re a Kook, I’m a Pogue…you know how it is.” JJ shrugs.

Scarlett rolls her deep brown eyes. “That shit is so stupid. We’re not all that bad.”

JJ opens his mouth to reply something along the lines of “well, in all of my experiences-” but the sound of tires screeching on gravel outside diverts his attention.

Scarlett’s eyes widen and she grabs JJ’s arm tightly. He clenches his jaw and forces himself not to wince; she grabbed one of his darker bruises. He gently removes his arm from her grip and Scarlett looks at him apologetically.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just my parents are home. You gotta go, now! Go out the window, quick quick,” Scarlett says as she frantically ushers JJ to the window. JJ’s startled by the sudden change in pace but honestly, he’s pretty thankful for an excuse to get out of there. He’s never felt comfortable around Kooks.

You can hardly blame him.

Scarlett helps JJ push the window up far enough for him to climb through (his arm is feeling pretty busted from the events of the previous night) and he doesn’t hesitate in sticking a leg through to climb out onto the roof.

“Wait, wait,” Scarlett says. “Is that it? You’re just gonna leave?”

JJ looks at her quizzically. “I mean, yeah. What were you hoping for? A goodbye kiss?” He taunts.

Scarlett makes a face at him. JJ can’t tell if it’s disgust or disappointment.

“No. Can I at least give you this?” She reaches into her bedside drawer and pulls out a wad of cash; JJ estimates it to be at least $200.

“And why would you give me that?”

“You seem like you need it,” Scarlett replies, shrugging.

Wrong thing to say.

JJ narrows his eyes and replies, “I’m not your charity case.”

Without giving Scarlett a chance to reply (JJ has an old habit of needing the last word), he scoots out of the window and down the gabled roof of her stupid fucking mansion.

He thinks he’d be content with never seeing her again.

JJ eventually manages to drag himself to his bike and take off towards the Chateau slowly, his bones aching (but not before kicking down the realtor’s sign – if the Camerons have more to worry about then he figured they won’t care if Rose’s frozen smile was kicked in). He’s being more careful on the ride over this time, not willing to repeat the spill from the night before. JJ is lost deep in thought on the way back to the Chateau and before he knows it, he’s riding up the driveway, the bike’s tires kicking up dirt as he skids to a stop.

JJ hates that for a second, he expects John B to emerge on the patio, smiling and holding out a Coors Light, like he’d done so many other times before.

JJ clears his throat and shakes his head, willing the thought of his friend to dissipate. He steps off his bike, wincing, and makes his way up to the house. JJ has every intention of making it all the way inside, but he stops at the steps, lump forming in his throat, and sits down.

Eyes brimming with tears that are close to spilling over, JJ sighs and puts his head in his hands, taking off his cap and throwing it into the dirt.

Where the hell are Pope and Kiara? JJ thinks. It’s been well over a day and a half since he stormed out of the Heyward backyard and gee, fuck him for assuming his friends might come looking for him or something drastic like that.

JJ pulls his outdated iPhone 6 (a hand-me-down from Kiara when hers got updated – pity it didn’t come with her unlimited data plan) with its smashed screen and broken home button.

No texts, no missed calls.

JJ presses the lock-button, so he doesn’t have to look at the Pogues’ smiling faces in his wallpaper, and tries to reason with himself.

Pope told you he was going to be busy with his interview, you shouldn’t be mad at him. That’s fair enough, he warned you.

Nah dude fuck that, he lied to you! He was sneaking off and banging Kiara.

Speaking of Kie, why doesn’t she want to see me? I thought better of her, I thought we were supposed to be best friends.

Her parents have her on lockdown-

When has that stopped her before?

JJ grunts in frustration and picks his hat back up off the ground, jamming it onto his head over his sweaty blonde hair. He clearly wasn’t going to solve anything sitting here.

--

JJ’s new habit seems to be wandering around the island like a lost boy, as he finds himself walking along the beach, kicking up sand with the toes of his work boots.

He’s not sure what his plan is – maybe he’ll run into Kie or Pope or fuck, literally anyone he knows. What JJ does know is that there’s no chance he’ll run into any Kooks on this side of the island, so at least he won’t have to deal with their pompous asses.

Or so he thinks.

JJ makes it halfway down the stretch of beach before he suddenly hears a sweet, but hoarse voice behind him.

“And here I was thinking I’d never see you again.”

JJ whips his head around and fails to suppress his groan at seeing Scarlett in front of him, dressed this time in a red crop-top and cut-off denim shorts. He resists the urge to run his eyes over her – he’s only human after all, and a teenage boy at that.

“Are you stalking me now?” He asks bitterly but makes no attempt to walk away from her.

Scarlett crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. “You wish, Maybank.”

“What are you doing here then?”

Scarlett sighs and sits down on a sand dune, motioning JJ to sit down next to her. He briefly considers telling her she’s dreaming but hey, once again she’s giving him attention and being nice and honestly that’s all he needs right now. Some company that’s not going to make him feel shittier about his life. So, he relents and sits down beside her in the warm sand.

Scarlett leans back on one elbow and moves her sunglasses to the top of her head as she replies, “less chance of running into Kooks here.”

“But they’re your-

“-my people?” Scarlett scoffs. “Hardly. Only thing I have in common with them is our family money, everything else is completely at odds.”

JJ smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It feels nice.

“I’ve heard this story before,” he says. “I’m not much of a reader but “rich girl who’s actually bad ass” sounds pretty familiar.”

Scarlett waves her hand. “Yeah yeah, it’s all true! I even have a dark back story – I’d make a great main character.”

“Let me guess, you’re adopted, and your real family was murdered by some unknown killer.”

“My younger sister died in a car accident, and I was never the favourite child. My parents shipped me off to boarding school, so they didn’t have to deal with me,” Scarlett replies, looking directly at JJ.

It seems an inappropriate time for him to be distracted by how beautiful Scarlett’s dark brown eyes look in the sun.

And yet.

JJ’s eyes widen. “Wait, you’re serious? Fuuuuck, I am so sorry…I had no idea,” he says, grimacing. He’s annoyed at himself – he was just trying to banter, but it’s all fun and games until someone drops a bomb like that.

Scarlett smiles and touches his arm delicately. JJ first notices how cool her hand is, despite the humid day, and then notices she has a fresh coat of dark red polish on her nails.

He tenses, not used to someone being so blatantly touchy like this, least of all a Kook. Scarlett notices and moves her hand back onto the sand, looking at him like she’s about to ask him what the problem is but clearly decides against it.

“It’s fine, honestly. Happened a long time ago and they leave me to my own devices a lot, which makes it easier to do whatever I want.”

JJ nods in understanding. “I get that.”

There’s a comfortable pause before Scarlett abruptly stands up, dusting the sand off her denim shorts. JJ looks at her questioningly but stands up too.

“Enough of this emotional shit,” Scarlett says. “I wanted to talk to you to a) apologise for my behaviour this morning-”

“-it’s fine-”

“-and b) invite you out tonight.”

“Out?” JJ asks.

Scarlett nods. “I think we’re both in need of some fun and some company. Why don’t you come to mine tonight? My parents are out again, and they’ve got a pretty sweet liquor cabinet.”

JJ can’t believe he’s saying this, but he says, “I’ll think about it.”

Scarlett shrugs. “Close enough. See you tonight, or not,” she says and blows him a kiss before turning and walking away down the beach.

JJ stands there stunned for a moment (definitely because of the sheer absurdity of the situation and not because he checked out her ass as she walked away) and thinks over his options.

He’s not sure he wants to willingly wander back into Kook territory for the second night in a row, never mind go into one of their houses.

Although, he thinks to himself. Where’s the harm in spending time with Scarlett for the time being until Pope and Kie come around? Because they will, right?

Besides, Scarlett’s pretty nice, pretty hot and she’s willing to hang out with him and give him free booze. What could go wrong?

JJ’s made up his mind and, perhaps against his better judgement (which was truly shaky to begin with), he finds himself on the roof of Scarlett’s mansion again that night, tapping on her bedroom window.

He starts to worry he got the wrong room or, even worse, the wrong house, when she doesn’t answer straight away but all of a sudden the curtains are pulled back and Scarlett’s excited face appears on the other side of the glass.

She yanks open the window rather haphazardly (JJ suspects she’s gotten into her parents’ grog early), the cool glow of the moonlight making her teeth an iridescent white as she grins widely up at JJ.

“So glad you could make it, Maybank. Let’s get this party started.”

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[bettsfic]

life update while i wait for my mechanic to call me back

so, i went on a lovely trip to manzanita, los angeles, and galveston, and came home for a week to settle my house stuff before visiting family in missouri, thinking, wrongly of course, it would be a somewhat relaxing week where i could start to get back into the swing of things before the semester starts.

i flew in around midnight, my cousin picked me up from the airport, and i was home at 1ish am, when i basically passed out. i woke up at 1pm (because sleeping 12 hours a night is basically status quo amid summer depression) to about 30 messages all asking if i was okay. i didn’t even wait to see what had happened; i got up and yelled for my grandma and she told me there had been a shooting. i asked her if she’d called my sister and she said no, she didn’t want to bother her, and here i am going absolutely apeshit, because the oregon is a place we all go all the time, it’s the only place to hang out in this city, and my only saving grace is that my cousin, who plays gigs there all the time, was driving me home from the airport when it happened. so i call my sister and she doesn’t answer, then i call my mom, who says she’s fine, and i ask if everyone in our family is accounted for and my mom says she’s been at church and she doesn’t know. nor has my grandma made any calls to make sure my uncle and his wife are okay, or anyone else. “well why would they be in the oregon?” she asked. “I DON’T KNOW, BUT THIS ISN’T A TIME TO MAKE ASSUMPTIONS” i said. 

i’m shakily trying to pour myself a cup of coffee and calm tf down when my grandma tells me she’s decided to give flurry away to my mom’s husband’s daughter, my step-sister, i guess, though i’ve decided i’m never going to have any interaction with them again, and i’ll get to that in a minute. i think my grandma thought i would be happy about it? but like, flurry is my dog. everyone knows i want her, but the problem is, my grandma wants her out of the house completely, and i live here. moreover, i have no idea how i would take her to school with me when i move. so i was just. beside myself.

i am very very very grateful no one i knew was in the shooting, but it’s still awful that it happened in the first place, and i can’t even wrap my head around it. any of it. that dayton is international news, that i’m two degrees of separation from the shooter (my cousin works with a friend of his), that any civilian can get ahold of a weapon that can kill 9 people in less than a minute, that dayton cops actually did their job for once, that any other saturday it could have been my sister and i, that for once i’m glad all my friends have moved out of dayton. that newscasters keep pronouncing “oregon” like the state when the “oregon” of the oregon district is “ore-uh-gahn” emphasis on that last syllable for some reason, but it seems pretty tactless to point that out in a time like this so i’m sticking it at the end of a rant.

my mom is getting back with her alcoholic husband. he and his entire family have been utterly destructive in our lives and i can’t even begin to articulate my disdain for this situation. my grandma says we need to be supportive, but i can’t support such a blatantly unhealthy decision. this dude voted for trump. he’s an evangelical christian. and i suspect he only wants her back because he can’t afford the bills alone. i told her that i didn’t like him and didn’t want to be around him. she told me to at least be nice to him, and i said i wouldn’t be, and moreover i refuse to be in the same room as him, which might mean that when i leave for school, i leave for good. i don’t know that i have the guts to do that, but i can’t really think about that right now. 

which leaves the house. i sold it, and am waiting to receive the closing documents. it’s a bad situation. i spent $6k and two months on repairs, and i got a cash offer within the first 12 hours, no inspections, no closing costs, no repairs needed. if i’d known i would have gotten an immediate low-ball cash offer, i could have saved myself so much time and money. i said no to it at first, but then i got a second offer, a little bit higher, but with closing costs included, and my realtor came back and said even if we got an ideal offer, like a family negotiates me down just a couple grand, the likelihood of additional fees and repairs, in addition to however many months’ mortgage and utilities i’d be paying in the interim, far exceeds the return of the initial cash offer. by this point my blood was just boiling, and i was furious with my realtor for not wanting to fight for anything, or negotiate (and it turns out that’s what my dad hated about her too, and one time he yelled at her, and anyway i haven’t yelled but dear god i’m not doing this again), and after two deliriously bad meltdowns i finally took the offer, just to get the fucking thing over with. it’s been a slow, terrible death and i am never, ever buying a house in a city again, without a partner who is as invested in this process as i am. my house which i’ve owned for 7 years is going to a foreign investor so he can rent it out to UD students who will trash the place and it’ll rot like all the other rented houses on my street, and even though i have nearly 30 grand in equity in the fucking thing, i’m walking away with less than a fraction of it. once i get my car repaired and paid off (i only have 3 payments left), it’s basically a wash. 

i’m just. beside myself. i haven’t felt this angry in years. i don’t have the coping skills to handle all of this. the silver linings voice in my head is reminding me i wasn’t in the shooting, i can’t control what my mother does, flurry is not my dog, and the house is finally sold, but also all of these things kind of suck. not to mention that soon i have to start teaching 3 comp sections. i can’t even imagine what the grading load will be like. 4 papers per semester, each with a rough draft, plus completion assignments and conferences, for 70 students, making $3200 per course, minus STRS and parking fees, and no health insurance. 

some good things: i might be able to start my phd in spring instead of next fall (i have to send a few emails), i started a new novel and i’m almost done with the first chapter, my mom took most of her stuff out of my storage unit so i was able to consolidate all my things into 1 instead of 2, the number of people who reached out to see if i was okay was really heartening, i somehow lost weight on vacation and now i’m under 200lbs for the first time in years, i’m not nearly as depressed as i usually am this time of year, and overall i’m not directionless, i’m not penniless, i’m not friendless, i love and am loved, i’m healthy and have food and clean water and a roof over my head. it’s all relative. 

[notallbloodmages]

My studio was out of power for almost a week

I’m re-vamping my Patreon again in an attempt to make up the lost $ from this past week.  I lost a lot of work time, mostly time that would have been spent making and releasing new products. Luckily I got it back just in time to fill in orders that were due. 

Details of the studio power troubles below the cut.

The first week that I had the studio, we spent a ton of time just making it clean and slightly warmer. The second week, I was able to move in all of my furniture and start using it to take orders! 

Halfway through that second week, however, the power stopped working. The wiring had just given up and was honestly probably dangerous at that point. I called the building manager at 4:30PM and was told that I’d have to wait until Monday because the maintenance man only worked 8 to noon. I was furious, but didn’t get mad. I did have my first panic attack in months, though, and ended up hanging up on the guy. 

Monday came and went, and I texted the building manager. The maintenance man would be there Tuesday. He was, but he didn’t fix anything. He just took apart the outlets and called it a day. On Wednesday, two of the power outlets we working and there seemed to be no intention of fixing the rest. I decided I could live with that, since they were luckily within reach of my computer and my machine. 

That was all in October. 

Now, in January, the power went out a second time. This time it wasn’t just the outlets in my studio, it was also the ones in the hallway. I called the manager, doing my best to stay calm, and was reamed for not saying “good morning” straight away (sidenote: it was 2pm). He seemed way over the top angry for such a little thing so I offered to call back at another time. He stated that he was at his daughter’s birthday, but that he had time and wanted to know if I was a tenant. I told him yes, but insisted on calling back later since I didn’t want him to miss his daughter’s birthday. I hung up as I could feel the anger rising in my throat - both at his shitty attitude and at his gall to answer his work cellphone at his daughter’s birthday. I had only planned on leaving a polite message anyway. 

The moment I hung up, I started crying, but got myself under control quickly. I sent a long and very strongly-worded (yet still polite) e-mail to the management company about how frustrated I was that this happened yet again, and included what the manager had said during out short one-sided conversation. E-mail means a record of contact, which I definitely prefer now since the first time this happened was only over the phone. 

Sunday- nothing Monday- nothing. I know Monday was a holiday, but these are rich white realtors who could be bothered to answer an email. Tuesday- I sent two more emails in the morning. 

When I didn’t hear back by about 2pm, I wrote another email (mentioning legal action this time) before calling the leasing office. They’re desperate for new tenants right now, so naturally it didn’t even ring once before I was answered. I was greeted by an over-the-top-polite woman who called me “sweetie” every other sentence. She at least allowed me to share the whole story, starting from when I moved in. I complained to her about the hired management’s lack of professionalism, constant sub-par “maintenance” experienced by myself and the other tenants, and that I was not afraid to break my lease if this happened again. She promised to have maintenance call a professionally licensed electrician this time, and stated that that’s what should have been done in the first place.

Right when I got off the phone, I received an email back from the management office. No apology, just one sentence saying that an electrician would be out by the end of the week. It was something, but I didn’t have “until the end of the week.” I had orders to fill and new products that needed to be stitched out ASAP. One of the other management office folk called me, the man who showed me the unit in November, and asked me for the whole story. My fiance was there for the whole conversation so that I didn’t  forget anything. He also promised that this would never happen again, and he was going to be talking with maintenance. 

Quick note, every time that I e-mailed, talked to, or texted anyone at all, I made sure to say that I did not want maintenance to go into my unit without me present. Fully knowing that they wouldn’t listen, because this request had been ignored before, my fiance and I set up a security camera in the corner and had it alert us of any movement. Sure as hell, the maintenance man was in and out of my studio dozens of times between 9:30AM and 11:30AM on Wednesday morning. What was he doing? Going around with one of my plug-in devices to check each power outlet several times and then scratching his head while looking at the ceiling. I also got him calling the leasing office to tell them that I wasn’t there. The woman on the other end of the line sounded frustrated, as if the problem was going to have magically fixed itself and they weren’t going to have to spend any money. 

Around 11:30, I got an email from management  saying that an electrician would be there in an hour. No hello, no goodbye, no apologies for the trouble. Just, “an electrician will be out within the hour,” and the nested email that she was replying to. I checked the camera, and the electrician was already there. The maintenance man was letting him in, despite my repeated requests to not do that. I had a friend go with me to my studio so that I would hopefully not embarrass myself. On the way, I call from the leasing office saying that an electrician would be out around 4pm. I didn’t question it at first, since I’d already seen that an electrician was there and maybe they meant they’d be there by 4pm.

The moment we got there, I composed myself and was polite but firm to the maintenance - an old bald white man missing most of his teeth and any actual know-how about how to fix this problem. Which would be fine except that he did try to fix it previously. He left naked wires just sitting in the wall with no caps on. He installed outlets wrong. Worse things that the wiring getting fuzzed out could have happened. I was lucky that his idiocy and the management’s cheapness didn’t cost me my equipment. 

The electrician was in the middle of disassembling one of the breaker panels in the hallway. The maintenance man literally told me he had no idea where the breakers for my unit were. WHAT THE FUCK. I knew where some of them were. I didn’t know about this one, because it’s still labelled with the room numbers from the goddamned 1940s. I was about to lose my cool when the electrician - someone I had not right to be mad at yet - asked me to tell him what all wasn’t working. So, I led him into the studio to point out what stopped working back in November, what still wasn’t working, what maintenance had “fixed”, what maintenance said he fixed but hadn’t, what still wasn’t working since November, and the “fixes” that had re-broken. He was confused at how all of this happened when there was nothing I was running that should have made this happen. He opened one of the outlet panels that maintenance had “fixed” and discovered that it was installed incredibly wrong. Another sidenote -  I know how to install an outlet safely. But maintenance dude didn’t, but tried anyway. You don’t do that. I also asked the electrician if he could please re-install some of the outlets that maintenance removed completely for whatever-the-hell reason. 

Once the electrician had a good idea of what was going on, my friend and I left because there wasn’t really anything we could do. Needless to say I continued watching on my camera until they left. I got a text from management reminding me that the electrician would be there around 4. Upon calling them back, I found that maintenance and management called two separate electricians without communicating with each other. I was too stressed out to go back to my studio. I also fell asleep around 10-ish when all the stress of keeping a cool and collected demeanor all day hit me. 

On Thursday I could still feel the stress of dealing with this shit again in every single muscle and joint. Also it was like, -13*F here and that never helps. Upon checking my studio, I found all the outlets to be in working order and gingerly started working on an order, certain that the power would bust again.

Luckily it’s all still fine, and I got a whole week of backlogged orders done today. 

However, I still missed out on 5 and a half days of productivity. I did stress this to management, and it looks like I’ll be comped for a month of rent. We’ll see if they follow through. Now I know that threatening legal action and threatening to leave and spread their shit through the artist-seeking-studio community (definitely still gonna do that last part) does work. 

The other artists in the buildings are planning a straight up coup against management. This realty company treats its tenants terribly compared to every other similar set-up in the area. My documented issues will definitely come into play very strongly when we rise up. We will not be treated this way. We will not allow these people to profit off of our tenancy while they do jackshit to improve or fix the building., or respond to complaints. 

Last week there was a guy violently yelling in the halls and the tenants were told not to call police by the management because they “didn’t want trouble”, and instead simply escorted him out. Glad I have both a security cam now and 12inch shears.