#( never did i think id miss the midwest )

[coltii-romanesti]

[ we love not having power on and off, but we're safe ]

[writtenatdawn]

Nights at Harry's

Word count: 990

It has been two months since I left.

I traded the gray winter sky for the brilliant blue sky unique to tropical countries—which happens to be where I’m from. I kept repeating that I missed the scorching warmth of the sun during fall and into early winter, but now that I’ve got it again, it feels foreign. I have to continuously set my air conditioner to 15 degrees just to be able to function because what used to be my typical weather now feels too hot.  Maybe I actually liked being close to the Arctic more than I thought I did.

I find myself missing my cold dorm room, with the heater that I could never quite seem to get to work. When I think about them, I can't help but also reminisce about the unreliable bus schedule on the weekends and how happy my friends and I would get when the bus we had been waiting for an hour or so finally arrived. Afterwards, I am forced to remember Harry's, the famous senior bar on campus, and all the times I had to stand in line for hours on end in the bitter cold just to get inside.

Then, as I reflect on my final two weeks there, my mind always circles back to you and your striking friends, who somehow always manage to get there before me, getting your IDs checked or on one of those smoke breaks in front of the bar. You, staring intently at your phone, ignoring your friends who are clearly drunk out of their minds. You, laughing with your Guinness pint on your left hand. You, simply standing, but somehow stealing the show. 

It was only that one night in early December when I first realized how pretty you were, as you talked to the tall bouncer, who surprisingly was still smaller than you. What are the chances that I happen to like pretty things?

The memory of Harry's small and sticky dance floor remains vivid in my thoughts. Despite its shortcomings, it's where I experienced some of the funniest things—like the first time we had a casual interaction. My friend, who is your neighbor, greeted you and mentioned that she had seen you shopping for school merchandise the other day. You replied that you realized that but weren't too sure, so you didn't say hi. Then my friend laughed because the same thing had happened to her, and because of that, I laughed too since I was with her. Now that I think about it, I vaguely remember thinking that you have beautiful eyes when I saw you that day.

And I know, for sure, that I wasn't the only one who shared that opinion. My friends, for example, all think so too. I’m pretty sure the different girls you had clinging to you every night I met you at the bar probably think you’re quite dashing as well. Can’t blame them. Because when I saw the scene, I wished it was me dancing in your arms under the cheap fluorescent light.  But I never got that; the closest I came was just singing with you, and even then, it wasn’t just us two.

I think it was after the makeshift graduation ceremony that marked the conclusion of our exchange program. Many of us exchange students flooded Harry’s that night, celebrating something I didn’t know then, and still don’t know now because I thought there was nothing to be happy about, and the idea of leaving campus for good was heartbreaking. Perhaps that night I was recognizing how I managed to make a home out of that Midwest town.

At some point throughout the night, the DJ started playing Piano Man by Billy Joel, and I found myself singing—or rather, screaming—“Bill, I think this is killing me," with you. We exchanged the silliest, largest grins as our right hands hugged our friends and our left hands clutched our drinks; you with your mug because it was a Mug Night, and me with my shot glass. Just like that, I was gone. My attention and mind were no longer mine to control—instead, they belonged to you.

I couldn’t care less that you’re notorious for being a womanizer.

Even when George mentioned that 9 out of 10 times you came to the pizza place, it was always with different girls, I still couldn’t care less. Especially when he continued to add that you’re sweet and he always found it pleasant to chat with you. You see, I trust him, and I value his words because George has always been kind to me and my friends. One time, when we stayed out so close to closing time because we were so drunk, he didn’t really mind and even sent us home with a box of free pizza.

So, when one night our paths intersected and you said that you’d be more than happy to show me around because during the short time you were there, you’d seen most of the town already, I genuinely considered taking you up on that offer.

But I’m too timid when I’m in love, apprehensive when I’m excited, and reticent when I truly want something. Hence, when I finally gave you my response, you had boarded your return flight.

I have to be content with just knowing the color of your iris, that you always order beer, and that you stand as tall as the door to our favorite bar. I suppose the knowledge of how you lived and walked the campus during that fall semester wasn't mine to hold onto. But, to be honest, whenever I hear the name of that town while going about my day here, I can't help but hope for the chance to uncover everything there is to know about you. Yet, I don't know how to make it happen, because you're already just another name in my phone book in less than a year.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Welcome To Backwater ch.3 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch is getting out and meeting new people, if only things weren’t a little...ominous. 

Content:  Spicyhoney, Midwest Gothic

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

The thing was, Stretch had never really lived on his own. For most of his life, he’d lived with his brother. Taking care of Blue when he was a kiddo, then sort of swapping roles for a while as they got older. By the time they were on the surface, they had a pretty good give and take going when it came to cohabitation. Living with his bro was never the problem.

It was moving back in with him after everything went down that was the hard part. His sympathy felt more like stifling pity, the relentless cheer Stretch normally adored was grating, and as much as Stretch loved his brother, (and he did, his brother was the coolest and fuck anyone who didn’t see that), he just…he couldn’t. Not right now.

That all came to a head and landed him on the midnight bus to anywhere and living here essentially alone was turning into a balancing act between being necessarily solitary and lonely enough to start befriending the local spooks, and now look at him.

Standing in Red’s living room and armed with a lamp shaped like a flamingo, probably about to be murdered for the hundred bucks in the front register and Red’s shitty microwave, and his first stupid thought was, holy shit, he’s gorgeous.

Not that it wasn’t a valid thought, but it didn’t do much to better the situation. A skeleton Monster (another one? really?) that was almost as tall as he was, but instead of Stretch’s scrawny bod and knobby knees poking out of his cargo shorts, this guy looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ’s leather edition, available only with a valid ID. From those slender hips with all the right curves all the way up to the delicate intricacies of his cervical vertebra, he was like a book written in braille, begging for a touch. Those cheekbones alone were sharp enough to do more damage than any damn lamp, fuck, he should have to carry a weapons license for those things, they were sure as hell giving Stretch a good stab in the libido.

Mystery guy only stood there in Red living room, cool and calm in spite of the fact he was wearing a sleek leather jacket and knee-high damn motorcycle boots, (fuck, those legs), on a sweltering day. Didn’t even bother to pull his hands out of his jeans pockets, like he was hanging around patiently for a fucking takeout order instead of starring in a home invasion.

The guy raised a browbone, and fuck, how did even the scar running through his socket seem sexy? “Well?” Mystery Man said, “Nothing else to say?”

That broke the spell. Well, kinda, holy shit, take two. That voice, it was almost rich enough to pour into a cup, but damn, if Sugar Tongue here dusted Red, what was Stretch gonna tell the cops? That he was too busy getting seduced by those dark molasses wiles to do anything about it?

Stretch brandished the lamp again and blustered out, “i asked you first!”

The guy sighed heavily and for half an idiot second, Stretch felt bad for disappointing him. “If we’re going to continue down this path of childish competition, then I was here first. Would you care to offer a rebuttal? Or is that word too complicated for you, I’d make an attempt to bring it down to your level, but I don’t have the time to journey back out of the realm of stupidity today.”

That was enough to snap him out of this guy’s erotic stupidity spell. Great, he was a murderer and a dick, Stretch should’ve known. No one with hips like that could be on the side of good. He raised the lamp again threateningly, flamingo-beak facing front, “the only butt around here is gonna be yours when i kick it!”

The guy only rolled his eye lights, deep crimson, huh, how about that. “Ah, how refreshing it is to have a chance to engage in such cunning debate,” he drawled. “But as enchanting as this has been, let me interrupt the vigilante plotline you seem to be starting. I’m only here to drop off a package for my brother.”

“brother?” Stretch parroted dumbly. Oh. Ohhhhh, for fuck’s sake he was an idiot. Red eye lights, skeleton monster, all he was missing was a fucking name tag that said, ‘Red’s Tall Brother, Please Do Not Ambush.’

Well, that was one way to make a first impression.

Stretch sheepishly lowered the lamp, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “oh. uh, sorry about that, i’m a little on edge.”

“On edge, are you,” the guy repeated. One corner of his mouth pulled upward in a sardonic little smile, another sign of the unfairness of life that it only made him look even more appealing, if that were possible. Sex on legs and that voice? Some guys cheated to role for charisma twice was all Stretch was saying. “Ah, aren’t life’s little ironies precious.”

Before Stretch could figure out what the heck that meant, he heard the familiar thump and bump of Red hurrying down the hallway. The door was flung open hard enough to bounce against the opposite wall and Red paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. His brother standing there is all his sexy glory, completely unconcerned and weaponless, and Stretch still sweaty and disheveled from trekking through the heat outside, standing there with a lamp in his hands trying to look like he hadn’t been ready to bonk the guy on the noggin like the first chapter of an Agatha Christie novel.

Red was snickering before Stretch could even scramble for any sort of excuse, “whatcha gonna do with the lamp, armstrong, knock his lights out?”

“i was improvising,” Stretch mumbled. He plunked the hideous thing back on the table, fumbling to plug it back in. "you didn't tell me you had a brother."

"no?” Red set both hands on the top of his cane to lean against it and innocent was not a voice he wore well, nope. “musta slipped my mind."

"Your mind is ever slippery, brother," said brother put forth in a clipped tone, "Somehow, you managed to forget to mention this…person…to me as well."

"and 'cause i did you got to have an excitin' first meeting,” Red said, abandoning innocence for pure mischief. He gave them both a broad wink, “ain't that right?"

About the only thing Stretch and this guy had in common was the mutual dirty looks they gave back to that.

“only if you get your thrills from a criminal sort of meet and greet,” Stretch said.

"Yes," the brother said irritably, "Very exciting. And now that we’ve all confirmed who I am, would you care to explain who this is?”

Red’s grin widened, his gold tooth winking in the mellow sunlight streaming in through the tatty curtains. “my new clerk.”

“Your—” That irritation melted into horror as the guy’s spine went ruler-straight as if someone jammed a yardstick up his ass before he blustered out, “have you lost your tiny little mind?”

Stretch couldn’t help feeling a little insulted. It was a little grocery store, not the Ritz, they didn’t need all their cheese on the crackers to manage selling ‘em, thanks.

Red didn’t seem bothered by his brother’s disbelief, he only shrugged, “nah. don’t think so, anyway.” Then with a touch of acid, “not like you’re around long enough to find out.”

His brother ignored that. Seemed like he was still stuck on Red’s audacity in hiring a clerk. “You have,” he said wonderingly, “You’ve completely lost your mind this time. And you’re keeping him right here in the house?”

“room upstairs, but yeah.” Red sucked on his teeth loudly, grinning his wide, feral grin. “got a problem with that, little brother?”

Conversation briefly ceased as they both seemed to be trying to communicate in glares and Stretch didn’t know enough of the language to interpret, but he didn’t think it was going well. Especially not when the tall drink of brother abruptly turned to him and said, “Go get your things.”

Stretch only gaped at him, too surprised to even protest, of all the fucking arrogance—!

“Go get your things,” he repeated, a touch louder and flavored with a dash of impatience, “and I’ll take you to the bus depot right now.”

“you’re serious,” Stretch said in disbelief. He shook his head with a short laugh, “heh, sorry, champ, not going anywhere on your say-so. besides, i just got here, if i leave now, I’ll never get voted prom queen.”

The other guy’s face didn’t so much as twitch and intensity in that crimson gaze made Stretch want to look away. He resisted, meeting that glare defiantly, even as he said, quietly, “If you stay long enough, leaving won’t be an option.”

Stretch only snorted, seriously, what was with this guy? “and you’re calling your brother a nut?”

He didn’t bother to answer that one, only swung around and pointed an accusing finger in Red’s direction. “This is on you, brother.”

Red only gave him that easy, sharky grin back. “always was.”

Stretch thought that was the end of it. The guy nodded shortly and started towards the door, brushing past Stretch to get to it and that was where he paused. He turned towards Stretch, those red eye lights moving over him searchingly. The end table with its returned lamp was at Stretch’s back, there was nowhere to go as Red’s brother loomed into his personal space, leaning in uncomfortably close, only inches away from Stretch’s collarbone as he sniffed delicately.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully.

Stretch resisted the urge to give his armpits a testing sniff. “what?”

But he only drew away and gave Red another unreadable look. Red nodded once.

What. The. Fuck?

“Fine,” the guy sighed out. His hands curled into brief fists, sharpened fingertips pressed into his palms. “It’s your problem, brother, you deal with it.”

“don’t i always?”

“Perhaps with the least amount of property damage possible, if you don’t mind.” He gave Stretch another dismissive half-glance. “Now if you’ll excuse me, brother."

He turned and started to walk off and yeesh, even the way he walked caught the eye, damn, hate to see you leave, love to watch those hips go.

Down boy, Stretch told his libido. There was enough weird shit going on and he really didn’t need to take another hike down that path. Besides, with hot stuff constantly looking at him like something to be scraped off the bottom of his shoe, it wasn’t exactly opening the door for romance. He’d had his fill of assholes, a lifetime’s worth, and just case it might be a question, Stretch proved he was still an enormous idiot by calling to that leather-clad back, “didn’t catch your name.”

The guy didn’t even pause. “Then next time you should be a better hunter.”

With that he was out the apartment door. Stretch and Red stood there and listened to the cow bell jangling loudly, the door slamming, and then the roar of an engine speeding away.

Only then did Red speak again, with laconic ease, “if you’re done staring at my baby bro’s ass, y’can come eat with me.”

“i—" wasn’t, Stretch started to say, then shrugged. Busted. “don’t worry, i don’t think i’m his type.”

“don’t think too hard, gonna hurt yourself,” Red said, dry as a mouthful of sand. “what’s the problem, don’t think you got the right size font?”

“let’s not get into that, it’ll take too long,” Stretch tossed back. “and don’t take this the wrong way but your brother is a dick.”

“yeah,” Red said fondly, “ain’t he great? now, before you tried to light up my bro’s life, i was setting up for dinner. if you grab that bag, you can have some, too.”

Stretch followed where Red pointed with his cane to find an insulated bag sitting by the sofa, black because fuck knew Fonzie’s stunt double needed matching accessories. He lugged the bag along as he followed Red back down the hallway into the store, setting it on the counter while Red struggled into the chair. There were a couple of dusty bowls already sitting there next to the beers and Red gave them a cursory wipe with a rag of dubious cleanliness.

“my bro got his own place a while back,” Red unzipped the bag and pulled out a large ceramic casserole dish. “but he still drops off food for me coupla times a week. says that eating at ‘mama’s’ along with a double daily dose of mac and cheese ain’t healthy.”

Stretch watched, reluctantly intrigued. “he doesn’t stick around for dinner?”

“nah, my bro has kinda a special diet.” Red pulled the lid off and steam rose out, along with the gorgeous, rich smell of sinfully delicious food. Long greenish noodles drenched in some sort of glistening sauce with chunks of more green and purple veggies mixed in, and dusted with a heavy sprinkle of parmesan. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything like what they brought to the table at Olive Garden.

Stretch inhaled deeply, his mouth already watering. “holy shit, he cooked this?”

“cooked it, hell,” Red spooned out portions, uncaring about the little drips that fell on the counter and pushing the first bowl over to Stretch. “he makes the pasta by hand. planted the veggies, too, like he’s fucking ol’ macdonald on his farm. he made that stew i gave ya the first night, too.”

Stretch barely heard him because he’d already taken his first bite and had he really thought Red’s brother looked sexy? He was wrong, totally wrong, because this was the sexy, this delectably orgasmic taste exploding across his tongue in a blend of garlic and vinaigrette, carried on perfectly al dente noodles mingling with the bright crunch of zucchini and beets. It was hard not to moan aloud as he chewed down that first bite and went back for another.

“is he single? i changed my mind, holy fuck, i’m gonna marry him and chain him to the stove,” Thoughtlessly said around a mouthful of deliciousness and Stretch winced as he realized what he said, “sorry, sorry, bad joke.”

Red only slurped up more noodles, teeth glistening with oil and the long strands flinging droplets of sauce as he sucked them in. “he’s single, but good luck putting a leash on him. go ahead, ask him out next time he stops by. i could use a good laugh, ‘cause, honey, you two hooking up would be a joke.”

Absurdly stung, Stretch shrugged and tried on a laugh, “hey, i’m a hell of a catch. gainfully employed and everything.”

“oh, yeah, you’re the seafood special, all right.” Red’s sharp teeth sheared easily through the noodles as he took another bite. “rebound fucks never work out, kid.”

“how did you—" Stretch stopped with a groan as Red raised both brow bones mockingly. He slumped back over his bowl, twirling up noodles on his fork. “yeah, yeah, handed that over with gift wrap.”

“yep, you did.” Red clapped Stretch on the shoulder with enough force to make him drop his fork. “the list of reasons people end up in the middle of nowhereville is pretty fucking short, kid, an’ you got that look. don’t worry ‘bout it, you got a place to stay here as long as you want.”

The unexpected kindness from Red of all people made him blink hard, but then, that wasn’t really giving him a fair shake, was it, not when he’d given Stretch a job to begin with and kept him semi-fed. “thanks.”

“don’t mention it, to anyone.” Red said dryly. He sucked down the last of the noodles and pushed the bowl away with a sigh. “gonna ruin my rep. make you a deal, air conditioning’s better down here. if you wanna watch tv in my place, y’can go ahead, if,” he stressed, “if ya call your brother. bet he’s out of his mind worried by now.”

“how—” Stretch shut his mouth hard enough for his teeth to click together. Red only looked serenely back, the chair creaking as he leaned back and laced his hands together over his middle. He looked away, not wanting to see what else might shine knowingly in those crimson eye lights. “i’ll text him.”

“good enough,” Red said agreeably. He pulled a can of beer off the plastic ring and popped it open, gulping some down and belching with mellow contentment. “where the fuck did you go earlier, i been waiting on these beers.”

Stretch’s bowl was empty and he ran a finger along the inside of it, licking away the smear of leftover sauce. “to see a movie.”

Red’s mouth opened in a silent ‘ah’. “didja say hi to doris?”

That was not what Stretch expected. “i…yes. you’ve seen her?” Stupid to think Red hadn’t, he’d been here for a long time, hard to believe he’d never stepped into the theater and any Monster with half a gram of sense would’ve noticed her.

“sure, loads of times,” Red said, confirming it. “sweet gal. don’t be offended if she don’t remember you right away, she’s gotta little problem with short term memory.” He pointed a finger at his temple and let his thumb drop like the hammer on a gun. “keep stoppin’ in and eventually you’ll stick. takes her a mo’ when i stop by, but she gets there.”

“good to know.” And it was. Any faint, stupid hurt that he wasn’t the first Monster in Doris’s unlife was a little eased by that tidbit. He probably would’ve been more upset if he went to see her again tomorrow and had to go through the intros again without it.

“okay, g’wan, get outta here,” Red shoved a beer in Stretch’s direction and waved him off. “just remember, wheel of fortune is on at 7.”

Stretch took the dirty bowls with him along with the serving dish, giving them a quick wash and setting them into Red’s already overflowing dish drainer. He spent the rest of the afternoon on the saggy sofa in the living room, watching reruns of ‘MASH’ and ‘Little House On the Prairie’ until Red closed shop for the Wheel.

That night Stretch had a strange dream. Vast trees towering over him and unstable ground beneath his feet. He stood in a puddle of ragged moonlight and when red eyes loomed out of the darkness, he met their stare and didn’t run. Not even when he saw the huge, dark shape that contained them, jagged white teeth in a gaping maw that gnashed and slavered, ready to consume him. The shape leapt at him and he couldn’t move, trapped by that gaze. He woke with a gasp before it landed, waking with a scream tangled up on his throat, clammy sheets sticking to his sweaty bones.

He lay for a moment on the thin mattress, catching his breath. His window was covered, had been since his second night here and he’d found an old blanket in his closet, tacked it up to keep out the blistering heat of the noontime sun. Now it kept out the midnight darkness and he didn’t even glance at it as he rolled to his feet and headed into the bathroom to splash cold water on his sweaty face.

He set both damp hands on the sides of the sink and looked at his dripping reflection. The only shadows in this room were the ones beneath his sockets. His skull was pale, his eye lights pinpricks of diffused white.

“liar,” he whispered to his reflection and watched as it whispered it silently back.

But that was one shipment of guilt he could offload right now.

Stretch shuffled back out and scooped his phone off the nightstand. He ignored the messages, the voicemails, and only tapped out a message of his own, hitting send before he could think of an excuse not to.

i’m okay, little brother, i’m safe. i’ll call soon.

It wasn’t a lie. Soon was relative, just like brothers.

He sank back down on his damp sheets and didn’t bother to turn out the lights.

tbc

[concentrated-mug-of-me]

okay im gonna try ur welcome. one ask. all from memory. if i fuck up i fuck up.

good morning heartsville this is tank comin at ya the voice of reason the voice of the season here at WLUV the student run radio station here at heartsville high the heart of america its 7 am on the dot and a perfect 68 degrees out there to start the school year off right. just a reminder folks heartsvilles annual community picnic is this weekend so guys grab ur guy and girls grab ur girl and head on down to lookout lake. and if u dont have anyone to grab sounds like youve got some extra love on ur hands and i know one magical matchmaker who just aint gonna let you get away with that. so go get em zanna this ones for you!!!!

when the alarm clock rings u know ive got to start to sing thinkin bout the joy the days gonna bring love is all around it just has to be found my job is making sure ig gegs spread around. i knew the day of my birth that i was put on this eartj to make sure no one suffers extra love so you can leave it to me its my responsibility to pass it on to someone without enough. i seek out the truth im a love sleuth im goin undercover for a lover who might not find another and im lookin for clues and they might point to you so come on gimme ur extra love. hey cindy! who do we got on the schedule today? steve buckman a quarterback i dont know him he must be new well im sure he is feelin a bit lonely ill see what i can do.

two by two just like noah had to do the only trick to love is finding who belongs with who so come on lets start the arks about to depart we gotaa pick up some extra love. (mornin mornin hi hi whatever have a good day) whos got wxtra love? i spy (call call me see ya later whatever) mornin officer klotsky! mornin zanna was your date w dr green a success ohh you bet hes the perfect guy for meee yeah i thought he might be my gratitude to you i cant express all in a days work! we walkes thru the park holding hands hntil dark such a guy i jever thought id meet yeah life is so sweet when extra love is complete so now im keepin the beat down on love street.

zanna karla hi roberta zanna hi (ahatever) whos got extra loce? not i because we got some hreat news uh huh you wont believe this uh uh tell em karla yeah! i forget what it is we’ll be govethee forever oh yeah our loves here to stay uh huh i cant believe we met only yesterday ! e just wantes to thank you fof makinv us fall in love zanna! u know karla i cant actyally make two people fall in love. i can merely favikitate! good morning everyone good morning principal cooper. now zanna i trust you wont be meddling in anyones affairs this year now will you? now principal cooper would i ever meddle in anyone elses affairs? yes you would. ur darn right i would!

two by two just like noah had to do the only trick to love is finding who belongs with who oh well i better go my friend is waiting and so ill see uou later later later later shes so great i know. (hi hi hihi bye bye bye whatever) whos got extra love? mike does! i dont but theres this new guy in town perhaps youve seen him around. mike has a crush on him i dont you do he does okay i do but let me make this clear zanna dont interfere oh please no please no please no pleas no PLEASE heres what im gonna do. (please no!) friday ill walk by and say hi next week we’ll start to speak and boah blah blah blah just be a man forget this stupid plan and quit the delay i dont wanna scare him awayyy no ur just a chicken ow chicken ow HEY NEW GUY wuit it oww. come on! good luck on ur chess match today mike!

excuse me olease but ut seems ive lost my way how bout a map ill explain another day hi im zanna im steve new quarterback of the team howd u know a little birdy told me oh i see what brings u to the midwest a mikitary request my two dads r five star generals in the army ooo im impressed. so we move place to place base to base unpack the suitcase try to make a few friends and then pack up and leave again wherever ive been ive never seemed to fit in. well never fear uts clear you fit in here! so keep up that chin. thanks for the encouragemnet ill see u in class!

oh excuse me. no no its my fault. hey hi zanna kate how are you wait i cant im running late. breakfast sure wnat som yeah what a pptatt would be great. thanks! let me uh uh find you pleae dont a girl no thanks im doing fine. it it wont will change will not ur world ive got no time ive got sats acts aps and gpas and college applications w all those tribulations to get to university then a medical degree so i just cant b distracted by loves triviality. no! yiu just havent met the right girl yet u can philosophize and rationalize but theyre just alibis loves all u need just take it from me okay u can set me up great! when im 33! ill get u yet.

hey zanna!! hey mr dj! wont you play this song for meee from the way that ur beamjn i see that ur schemin to turn somebodys dream to realityy you know me so well well its not hard to tell ur always happy making dreams come trhe its what i do! well in spite of ur list theres always one guy u miss i do who? you i know u got dreams too. no time my friend.

hi zanna. hi candi hi buck hey zanna. whats on the clipboard for today well the school board .. well as im sure you know the schoolboard is meeting with the ciry council to discuss whether or not the linrary should be allowed to carry a copy of hearher has one mommy and one daddy. in my opinion .. oh and if you can think of anyone we could sure use another guy for this years musical. come along buck. yes candi.

the schoop musical, huh? i think i have just the right guy! i seek out the truth im a love sleuth im going undercover for a lover who might not find another and im lookin for coues and they might point to you so come on gimme ur extra love. [i almost fucked up here] well u can cocer your tracks thats a fact jack but you aint gonna shake me to fake or make me take a break from chasin you can duck off the trail but im hot on your trail so come on gimme ur extra love now baby dont try to run from the love gun ive got the place surrounded and bounded the hounds r all around it you may be on the lam from the love caravan but u aint getting away w your love!

cause this is heartsville high where i dream of a love that will stay heartsville high where nothings ever gonna get in my way heartsville high where ive a feeling loves about to begin i hope that this time im gonna fit in. HEY you over there dont be shy come iver here i bet you got extra love what you hoarding it for? lifes got so much in store for someone w extra love. dont try to hide you cant keep it inside you migt as well give up ur extra love cause if u want love to stay you gotta give it away you gotta give up give up give up hive uo your ectra looooooove give up your extra love!

this took me over half an hour to type.

dee,,,,,,,other than the typos (and the whatevers) this is accurate as far as i can tell and how did that all fit in one ask i swear there was a character limit

[therukurals]

Tagged by the very cool @dingyuxi​ (thanks fam!) 

and tagging some mutuals off the top off my head no pressure! @melonatures​, @deokmis​ @gimme-a-chocolate​ @forursmiles​ @digimoo​ @junghaesin​ @rain-hat​ @mockingjaypin @roarofalannister @seongwu

1. What is the color of your hairbrush? I have a couple, but one is red/black, one is blue, and the other white/gray

2. Name a food you never eat. Okra, my mom promised me I’d grow out of my distaste but im 26 and its still no

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? too cold I am a tropics baby i thrive in heat (i know i live in the midwest) 

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? trying to unclog our pipes with a bladder and some amateur plumbing 

5. What’s your favorite candy bar? uhhh, anything chocolate but the kinder bueno ones

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? A couple, mainly basketball and went to one american football game because bb bro was too young to go by himself and i just sat and read a book

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? My roommate and I are dealing with a plumbing issue and trying to fix it and I have a call soon so I said let’s pause and come back to it later. 

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Green tea followed closely by coffee. 

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Water

10. Do you like your wallet? Yeah, i like its. its long and solid

11. What is the last thing you ate? a chocolate chip cookie

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? lol no

13. What’s the last sporting event you watched? uhhhh idk, not an actual match but i think some mbappe highlights? 

14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn? ooooo classic butter or kettle. 

15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to? uh it was a group chat with my colleagues 

16. Ever been camping? Yeah, when I was young. It wasnt straight camping it was at a site and it was with my girl scout troop lmao

17. Do you take vitamins?  not regularly, sometimes some vitamin c if im feeling a little throat something coming up or iron before i donate blood 

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Not in a religious way? and when you do community organizing/work you are in a lot of churches and they always pray at the neighborhood association meetings. 

19. Do you have a tan? lmaooooo. i am blessedly melenated and usually get a nice tan but its winter and lockdown so ive lost some of that :_;

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? lmao im with sam on this question, i dont like this question cause its a false equivalency and definitely chinese because the options??? and chinese food is so good???

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? uhhh....not really? usually in a glass or in a bottle. 

22. What color socks do you usually wear? girl whatever socks i get, they range from black to white to pink to gray they dont match 90% of the time

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? wouldnt you like to know

24. What terrifies you? on a philosophical level seeing my loved ones hurt and failure. more physically? frogs freak me out, people in easter bunny costumes, clowns, and medieval plague doctors, actually the concept of existing in medieval Europe terrifies me 

25. Look to your left, what do you see? im on our large conference table and it has a bunch of stuff but immediately to my life is my phone, some pens, my bullet journal and my copy of “collective courage” 

26. What chore do you hate most? Washing dishes!!!! And compost 

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? idk??? steve irwin? 

28. What’s your favorite soda? Root beer and vanilla coke

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Drive thrus, because im probably already out and around doing errands. 

30. What’s your favorite number? 13

31. Who’s the last person you talked to? My roommate, again about this plumbing issue. 

32. Favorite meat? I really dont have a preference tbh, depends how they are prepared

33. Last song you listened to? Do it on the tip by Megan thee Stallion ft the City Girls

34. Last book you read? In the middle of a reread for “Collective Courage: A History of African American Cooperative Economic Thought and Practice.” by Jessica Gordon Nembhard and just starting “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents “ by Isabel Wilkerson. 

35. Favorite day of the week? Saturday 

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? maybe if i tried really hard but im not going to try 

37. How do you like your coffee? With a little bit of creamer and sugar, like a decent brown color. I like the flavor of coffee so i dont want it too diluted. 

38. Favorite pair of shoes? uh, dont really have one but something i can slip in and out of lmao

39. Time you normally get up? around 8/8:30am but in my heart id like to wake up at 10 or 11 ;_;

40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunsets!!! also sunrises involve me getting up early and im not doing that hell no

41. How many blankets on your bed? Two since its winter, a comforter and a thick wool one. 

42. Describe your kitchen plates super basic white round plates. 

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment messy, we havent been able to wash our dishes because of the plumbing issue so hopefully that can be fixed today

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink? mmmmm, idk? i have grown to like a good whiskey, usually a bulleit bourbon or this one bourbon w get from a local distillery. really any dark liquors, i will not do beer that shits dissssssgusting

45. Do you play cards? not regularly and i have tried to learn how to play eucher and spades and each time ppl explain it to me i forget it the next day and i just dont have that kind of brain capacity. 

46. What color is your car? uh.....so i live in a commune basically lmao and we share vehicles so i personally dont own one but the couple i share with some other folks is Black and gold

47. Can you change a tire? Yeah, one unique thing about my parents were they were very fair around gendered roles(especially for south asians), so my mom was strict with my brother around learning how to cook/clean and my dad taught me how to work on cars/maintenance work around the house. so i can change tires/oil/do other car work  

48. Your favorite state or province? i really like the pacific northwest and miss it.

49. Favorite job you’ve had? being an instructor for a course on globalization in college! also idk if i can classify what i do now as a “job” because its....unique but that too

[takadasaiko]

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours (a Veronica Mars one shot)

Part of my Spanning Years. Continents. series. 

FFN II AO3

Summary: While out on deployment Logan's squad is attacked and Veronica gets a call: he's missing. So starts the clock on the longest week of her life.

The Longest One Hundred and Sixty-Eight Hours

The call came in on the landline at the office and Veronica barely registered the concerned tone as Mac let her know that there was a Commander Eduardo Ruiz who had asked specifically for her. They were close enough to San Diego that it wasn't abnormal to have clients from the base. She just had to make sure that she toed the confidentiality line with her Naval Aviator boyfriend at home. Depending on the situation the lines could cut too close, but sometimes it worked in their favour. There'd been a time or two that Mars Investigation had gained a client because of Logan. Once by direct referral and a second one that had heard about them through the grapevine, as it were. Deployment left their Skype sessions short and sacred, so it was easy to believe that it had simply slipped his mind to tell her that he was sending someone her way.

Except he hadn't.

This wasn't wasn't a call for her services.

Veronica felt her world shift dangerously as Commander Eduardo Ruiz informed her that Lieutenant Logan Echolls' F/A-18 Hornet had been struck by enemy fire while over an undisclosed location. Both he and his Weapons System Officer Dave Riley had successfully ejected. The rescue team had found the remains of the Hornet, but there were signs of a possible struggle on the ground and neither Lieutenant Echolls nor Riley had been found as of yet. She was listed as his next-of-kin and they would let her know as soon as they had an update.

Commander Ruiz's voice was terrifyingly calm and stiff as he spoke, the words rehearsed, possibly even scripted. If he knew Logan or had any attachment to him at all, Veronica had no idea, and he couldn't answer any questions that she rattled off at him. There had certainly been a few. For each one he gave the same answer: the United States Navy was doing everything in their power to recover their two missing officers. He might as well have been saying that he was looking for a needle dropped into some Iraqi desert.

Veronica supposed that Commander Ruiz indicated that he was going to end the call before he actually did, but she found herself sitting at her desk with the phone still pressed to her ear and gaze fixed on nothing in particular in front of her, terror ripping through every vein.

Logan was missing.

He'd been shot down by enemy fire and he was missing in some foreign land that Veronica had no contacts in and no reach to. She could feel that realization - that helplessness - press down so firmly against her that someone might as well have punched her in the gut. She couldn't breathe, and while her mind was going a million miles a second, nothing of any use was making it through.

"Veronica?" Mac asked tentatively and the blonde woman blinked, finally registering that the line was dead in her ear and one of her two best friends was standing at the door to her office, her tone hesitant and her expression worried. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's -" She stopped mid-sentence. She could lie to Mac, tell her everything was fine, but unless they found him in the next five seconds before she visibly cracked it'd be really hard to explain. The thing was she wasn't sure she had it in her to actually tell her the truth either. It was anything but okay, but even though she had heard it, even though the terrible understanding was spinning around in her mind like a record skipping, saying it out loud made it real. Forcing her mind to sort the words from the chaos, formulate sounds that would bubble up to her tongue and escape through her lips made it real. So Veronica found herself stammering with her mouth open, nothing escaping her but a couple of dry, half-attempts at words that she couldn't even decide on, and suddenly her vision blurred.

Somewhere in the distance, almost like down a tunnel, Veronica heard Mac call her name. "Is he….?"

"I don't know," she gasped, feeling strange and hot tears slide down her cheeks without having anything remotely close to permission to be there. "They don't know."

"They don't…. I'm sorry. I'm confused," Mac managed and Veronica heard her circle the desk more than saw it. She blinked hard and it helped a little. "How do they not know?"

"He's missing. He and Riley are missing," she managed, hating how raw and terrified she sounded. "There was a fight and a crash and…."

Veronica looked up and she must have looked like hell from the way that Mac's confusion crumbled into worry. "It's okay. It's going to be okay. Logan's crazy stubborn. They'll find him."

If she believed it in that moment or not was anybody's best guess, but Veronica's usual BS meter was cracked and broken on the floor beneath the weight of the unknown.

"I need answers," Veronica breathed, even as the dial tone sang out from the phone still clutched in her hand laid out on her desk. She couldn't seem to find the will to move to return it to the cradle.

"I don't think we can get those," Mac answered, her voice equally as quiet. "You're the first person they'll call, right?"

Veronica's tear-filled gaze snapped over to her friend and she couldn't bring herself to feel guilty as Mac flinched back at it. "I need answers."

"Okay," Mac whispered, nodding as she spoke. "Okay. Then tell me everything you know and I'll find you everything I can."

--------

Veronica swore that when - not if, when- Logan got home, she'd never let something pesky like national security get in the way of her drilling him for information again. As it stood now, he had told her as much as he said he could. They were in the Middle East - sure, small area. Only a few hot spots. Super easy to find a downed jet in all of that desert. What was the Navy thinking? - and halfway through deployment. Maybe she should start with his squadron. They had been together before Logan had tumbled back into her life - before she'd tumbled back into his? - but he usually talked about them by their call signs.

There was Coma from East Texas with his painfully slow drawl that Logan and the rest of the guys gave him so much shit over, Kasper that made snow look tan, Siesta that could fall asleep anywhere, and ALF - annoying little fuck - that just wouldn't shut up. There were more, but she only knew Riley by his given name, and even that was turning up with nothing except a couple that Mac thought were probably his parents out in the Midwest. Not that they'd have any more information than Veronica had been given. Hence being updated as Logan's next-of-kin.

Mac was a saint for the effort she was putting into the search, given what little Veronica could provide. They were well into the zone, treating it like any other case when Keith had come back into the office. He must have called out to one or both of them at least a couple of times because Veronica didn't look up - jumped might be a more accurate description, but she'd never admit to it - until he knocked on her desk as if he were knocking on a door. "Something come in while I was out?"

It was a blessing in disguise, that focus, and she rattled it off with only a twinge of pain on the outskirts of the words until she realized her father was dead silent. She didn't acknowledge it until he circled her desk and he stooped down to wrap his arms around her. His was a normal reaction, she knew. It was terrible news. Riley's family was probably in tears and utterly unable to do anything other than wait by the phone for any update that the Navy could possibly give them, and while she'd finally managed to put the phone back on the hook at some point so that a call could come through, there she was trying to track down the non-existent trails that would never actually lead to Logan. Still, it was better than sitting idly by. That would drive her insane.

What was it Logan had said back in college? I'm not built to stand on the sidelines. Well, neither was she. She had to do something. Thankfully Keith didn't try to talk her down from the frenzy.

It was late before Veronica finally relented to the truth that they weren't finding anything new on their end that night. Her father tried to convince her to come back to his place so that she wouldn't have to be alone while waiting for the news. She had Pony home, she reminded him, and while she and Logan had paid their pet deposit that they'd never get back, her dad hadn't. No need to bring an oversized puppy that still thought pieces of furniture were his chew toys to his place. Instead, Mac had managed to convince her to let her sleep on the couch. At least Veronica hoped she slept, because she sure didn't. No, that first night she'd gone into the dresser, pulled out one of his favourite t-shirts, and slipped it on to lay with her cheek pressed into his pillow. He'd already been gone for three months. It wasn't like there was any real trace of him there, but if she tried hard enough she could imagine it. And if she turned her back to his side of the bed she could almost pretend that he was laid curled up on his side, breathing softly and steadily. Alive and safe and home.

The next night, after a day of equally useless information that was really none at all, Wallace had pushed his way into the situation and had taken up Mac's exhausted place on her couch.

It was the earliest hours of the morning when Veronica's cell phone started singing next to her bed, dragging her out of the restless sleep filled with worst-case-scenarios playing out in her mind's eye. She didn't even look at the caller ID as she slammed her thumb against the accept button. "Hello?"

Commander Ruiz was on the line again in that same rehearsed tone, but somehow, even with no real reflection in his voice to speak of, the words felt lighter. They'd been found. Both Logan and Riley. They had been transferred to a Naval hospital there in the Middle East. Next steps would depend on the extent of their injuries, but if all went well they would be transferred back stateside rather than moving to a medical ship or a hospital on a European base. While Veronica would have preferred the news to have been closer to Logan's in San Diego right this second, she would take alive and on foreign soil versus the unspeakable alternative without hesitation.

She had assumed it would be Ruiz with another update when the number lit her phone up the next day and Veronica had to stop and check herself at the familiar voice filtered over the bad connection. "Logan?" she breathed, pretty sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Hey." He sounded tired, his voice a little hoarse.

She gripped the phone tighter in her hand. "Are you okay?" They still hadn't given her any details other than that he'd been found and was alive. If he was hurt or how badly, she had no idea.

"More or less. Listen, I can't talk long, but I just…. needed to hear your voice."

Veronica swallowed hard, willing her voice to work. To tell him she needed to hear his too and that she needed him home right then. He didn't give her a chance as he cleared his throat.

"And to ask you not to be pissed."

Okay, that wasn't what she'd expected. "Why would I -?"

"I'm coming home," he said firmly, which only made his statement a moment earlier more confusing. "They were talking about sending me today."

"That's good news, right?"

She heard a sound from the other end of the line. "Yeah. One sec," he called back to someone on his end of the line before speaking directly onto the phone. "Veronica…."

"Still here."

"They wanna send me home, but Riles is gonna take a few more days. We had to eject. He… snapped his leg on the landing. He always hated those jumps."

"Bet he really does now," Veronica breathed, her mind calling up the image of the man that literally had Logan's back in the air. She liked Riley. He was sharp, with a wit that could match Logan's and a quirky and sometimes twisted sense of humour that was apparently born from a need to stand out among ten siblings. From what she could see, he'd also become one of the most loyal people to enter Logan's life after she had left for Stanford. They were close. "Is he going to be okay?"

"I hope so. He's in surgery now and they said it's going to be a long one. I don't wanna be gone when he wakes up, you know?"

"I know." She hated the words as they slipped out, but she knew how selfish it would have been to say anything else. Right then, she wanted to be selfish. She wanted to tell him to get his ass home so that she could hold onto him like she'd never let go.

"Veronica?"

"Yeah?"

"I gotta go."

"Call me when you can?"

"Yeah. Love you."

And then the line was dead, leaving Veronica sitting alone on the couch in their apartment. She squeezed her eyes shut, the last forty-eight hours' roller coaster of emotions washing over her as she tried to steady herself. "Love you too," she whispered into the empty living room.

--------

She spoke to him at least for a couple of minutes a day until he came home, but even hearing his voice on the other end of the line wasn't enough to keep the darker parts of her mind from playing tricks on her. She remembered how it had twisted her around during his first deployment after they had gotten back together, but at least then the dangers had all been theoretical. Sure, he was fighting a war and sure enemy aircraft or ships or what-have-you could take a shot at him and send him spiraling towards the unrelenting ground below. She knew that, and on some days it felt more real than others, but even after hearing his voice and that he'd made it out of this close call mostly intact Veronica needed to see him with her own eyes.

The first time he had come back from deployment it had been on the ship he'd left out on, but this time he and Riley were sent home on a transport plane that was due in late in the afternoon. Veronica had spent the entire day jittery and had driven down to San Diego with hours to spare. Wallace, Mac, and her dad had all offered to help with anything she needed from puppy duty to going with her so that she wouldn't have to wait alone. She'd declined the latter, instead opting to become well acquainted with the accelerator in Logan's BMW. Thankfully the PCH wasn't being heavily patrolled or she would have had to pay a mint for the ticket dealt out.

It felt like forever before Logan arrived safely and securely on the ground. He was on his feet when she saw him, left arm in a sling and bruises darkened under his eye and down along his jawline on the right side of his face. He looked exhausted, but still better than Riley who was stuck in a wheelchair with a cast nearly all the way up his leg. That was gonna suck. Probably already did, if he was due for pain meds anytime soon.

Logan spotted her and Veronica felt a rush of relief at that smile. She took off towards him, having to force herself to stop rather than latch her arms around his neck to hold on tight. He'd finally given her a list of his injuries - the worst being a torn muscle in his shoulder and a concussion - and she didn't want to risk hurting him.

He didn't seem to have the same hold up. Logan covered the last few steps and wrapped his uninjured arm around her, pulling her in more than up and leaned in for a kiss. Veronica's arms slid around his middle, fingers digging into the fabric of his uniform as she pulled him deeper into it. They stayed there in that moment, neither willing to let go of the other even as she heard Riley shout a joke about waiting till they had a room from off to the side. Logan loosed his grip on her and Veronica was pretty sure he shot Riley the bird, only confirmed by the other man's chuckle.

Veronica finally - reluctantly - broke the kiss. "You okay?" she asked breathlessly.

"Yeah. Let's talk when we get home."

She nodded and turned towards Riley. "How ya doin', Riley?"

"I gave as good as I got," the Weapons System Officer promised with a shit-eating grin.

"Oh yes. The ground never saw him coming," Logan answered, a smirk tugging at his lips and one eyebrow quirked up at his friend. "You sure we can't give you a ride?"

"Nah. My folks flew in. Apparently going MIA warrants a flight in from the homeland."

Veronica snorted. "Aren't you from Nebraska?"

He gave a casual shrug and a noncommittal mehbefore he started wheeling himself towards a small group of people that Veronica could only assume were his family if the collection of redheads were anything to go by. He offered a quick wave as he rolled forward. "See you in a couple days."

"Yeah," Logan huffed the response, his voice low enough that Riley probably hadn't even heard it.

Veronica turned back to him, watching the smile leave his eyes first, exhaustion taking its place, and then his thin lips evened out into a straight line. She touched his arm. "Let's go home."

Thankfully it didn't take much to get back to the car and off the base. Logan asked her to keep the top down on the BMW, even if he wasn't the one driving. She glanced over every handful of minutes as they started up the PCH, watching as he slowly relaxed into the seat. His eyes drifted closed, the lines in his face softened a little, and it was everything she could do not to reach out to him. Finally, she lost her battle and her hand slid over of its own volition to his knee. He startled in his place, but only for a moment, and settled back in as he moved his right arm across his body so that it could rest on her hand. Apparently she wasn't the only one craving touch at that moment.

The sun was setting by the time they got home and Veronica and Logan took the stairs up to their apartment slowly. She frowned as she fit the keys into the lock and turned only to find it already unlocked. She pushed the door open and loosed a relieved breath at the sight of her father refilling Pony's food bowl, the leash laid out on the counter. Keith looked as startled as she felt, straightening with a grimace, and turned fully towards them. "Hey. I didn't know what time you two would be here." His gaze drifted past Veronica. "Logan. Good to see you home."

"Good to be home," he answered, his voice quiet and more than a little tired.

"I won't keep you. I brought some Thai over. It's in the fridge if you get hungry."

"You didn't need to do that, Dad," Veronica tried and her father gave a small smile.

"I wanted to. Mac and I'll hold down the fort for the next few days. Take your time. And if you need anything -"

"Pretty sure I know your number," she promised, the corners of her lips tugging up and she wrapped a hug around her dad's neck before letting him slip out their front door, the cane he still leaned on after the car wreck sounding softly as he eased his way down the stairs. Three flights weren't easy for him to climb to drop off food and feed a puppy. He'd wanted to check on them. Not just her, but both of them, and there was something comforting in that knowledge.

Logan loosed a long breath, drawing her attention around as he moved slowly into the apartment. He dropped to a knee to greet Pony with a scratch behind the ears and a few soft words before straightening again. "Thai sounds amazing right about now."

"Don't have that on your ship, do ya?"

"Definitely not."

Or in the desert when you're missing for nearly thirty-six hours.Yeah, that probably wasn't the best way to lead into reminding him that he'd told her they'd talk when they got home. She wanted to. More than anything she wanted to hear every inch of what had happened, but while Logan was a fan of talking about nearly anything, when it came to his own personal traumas he tended to toss out a flippant remark and keep his feelings to himself. He knew her. He knew she was dying to ask, but she knew him too, and he probably hadn't given himself time to even start processing until they were back on US soil. Hence the reason he looked so damn tired.

They ate in silence, Veronica not trusting herself to hold back the questions. She wasn't sure how long had passed as she shoveled mouthful after mouthful of food, glancing over to see that Logan had stopped altogether. His brows were drawn tightly, his lips pulled down at the corners, and his grip on the chopsticks was firm. "I'm sorry," he breathed after a long moment.

"What for?"

"Scaring you. I'm guessing I probably scared you." He finally turned to look at her, those soft brown eyes making it hard to breathe.

"Understatement," she answered softly, "but it wasn't your fault."

"We, uh… We were so focused on the aerial fight that we missed what was happening on the ground. He was on Doc and ALF's tail, Riles and I took the guy out, but there was fire from below. They didn't have to eject, we did." Logan swallowed hard, clearly having trouble trying to get through the story he knew she wanted and Veronica did her best to keep her expression even. She reached out, her hand against his, and he set his chopsticks down to thread his fingers through her own and continue. "We got lucky. I mean, Riles might call bullshit. He's the one with a broken leg, but there weren't too many on the ground where we landed. We got out alive, laid low, and they found us."

There weren't too many on the ground. Right. Okay. Maybe she didn't want to know how he'd busted his shoulder and gotten a concussion. The little he'd told her was a lot to digest, and he'd been doing it by himself for the last week. Well, him and Riley.

"I didn't know about Doc and ALF. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Those were fun calls."

Right. He was their squad leader. While someone above his head probably made the calls while he was MIA, Logan would have followed up with the families. For all of the responsibilities he skirted as a teenager, he took on even more while serving in the Navy. She'd never gotten the full story on exactly where the change had happened, and maybe it was because real change never happens at a single point in a person's life. She knew that somewhere in his sophomore year at Hearst he had bottomed out and he'd landed in ROTC. He'd met Riley there and Riley had been the one to steer him towards aviation. Logan had said once or twice that Riley had saved his life, and Veronica had always wondered if that wasn't just up in the clouds.

"Part of the job," Logan murmured and squeezed her hand. "Funerals'll be the hardest. That's in a couple of days."

Ah. So that's what Riley has meant. Veronica hadn't thought that they'd demand him back at work quite that quickly. Not while he was on medical leave. At least she'd hoped that they wouldn't. The idea of only having a day or two with him after all of this tied her stomach up in knots.

She pursed her lips together. "I'm selfish," she admitted softly, catching his confused gaze at the seemingly abrupt statement. "I hate that they're gone. I know they meant a lot to you, but…." She closed her eyes, struggling to find the words. She felt like such an asshole voicing them. These were people that he cared about, people that other people cared about. They weren't just names or call signs. They were good guys. Logan respected them, and even prefacing that she felt selfish for saying this didn't make it any better.

"Hey." She opened her eyes to find him looking directly at her. "You're good. You just listened to me. It's your turn."

She reached her free hand up to the side of his face, her fingers curling around bruised skin carefully. "These have been the longest hundred and sixty-eight hours of my life. I thought I'd lost you. Before, every time something split us apart, we could come back from it. Nine years and we came back from it, but…"

The words she'd meant to say got stuck in her throat, a sob choking them down, and Logan leaned his forehead against hers. "I'm here," he promised. "When our plane got hit, when we ejected…. all I could think about was you. About how I couldn't die not having seen you again. Veronica." He waited until she looked at him. "I love you. No matter what happens, it's you. You're the one I'm coming home to, and I'm always going to come home."

She felt the dam break and the tears started to blur her vision. There were so few people she could show anything akin to weakness to, but she saw the same glassy look in Logan's eyes and she leaned forward, her lips pressed against his. She could taste the salt from the tears - hers or his, she couldn't be sure - as he scooted himself off the bar stool. His movements were slow and a little awkward with one arm still firmly secured in the sling, but she followed him back to the bedroom.

One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Seven days. One week.

But tonight she laid curled up against him, her cheek pressed against his chest as his fingers worked their way through her hair. They would face the next challenges when the sun came up. Right then, in that moment, she felt herself finally drifting towards sleep with the steady beat of his heart a reminder that their epic story wasn't over. He was home, he was safe, and he would always come back to her.

[forthedyingbeautiful]

Now, I am one who never really comments on or writes about anything if it does not have to do with music. For the most part I am basically nonexistent online unless it has something pertaining to music period, with a heavy leaning on heavy metal. Yet tonight, tonight I feel like I have to say something, to get something out of my system that has been bothering me as of late. But first I have to admit something that is hard as well. I am guilty of being a racist.

Throughout my life I have said and thought things that are flat out racist. These things are nowhere near the core beliefs that my family raised me on. My parents always told us that everyone is the same so treat them as you would want to be treated and that is the way I have tried to raise my children. Although there were times that being in a very predominate white city made it hard to not participate in racist actions. In some situations, mostly work, if you were not seen to have the same beliefs or laugh at the same jokes, you were an outsider and vey much made to feel that way. So, to the better of my comfort, I gave in; I have said things and laughed at jokes and some of those thoughts sadly carried over. But not anymore. I am done with this stuff. I am tired of just saying "Oh that's just their generation" or "That's just the way they were raised." No more excuses, now is the time to change.

Through reflextion and talking with my wife and with my children openly and honestly about what is going on in our country and for how long, I finally see some hope. After watching the whole cycle of events happen in Minneapolis from the initial, horrifying video to every night and day of protests, riots and back to protests and even community block parties, on live streams, I see more hope and tangible change happening. Throughout our country and the world, things are starting to finally change. It is happening but it is nowhere near where we need to be in the end. I stand with Black Lives Matters. I do not fully understand everything yet but I will continue to educate myself and grow and hope that anyone reading this will as well. Let us stop being robots of time and actually make this change for the better happen.

I know there are many of you out there reading that get it and really, maybe I am just preaching to the choir. But I do hope that this can get out there. Because there is still a lot of ignorance, that I do see, out there from people within my age range, I am 40, that disgusts and confuses me. There is plenty more ignorance out there that disgusts me but let me talk to the ones I know I can connect with age and reference wise. Growing up to even now, do we not all know the words to most of "Straight Out Of Compton?" I know it was hard, edgy and cool for us white kids in the Midwest to sing along to that album. But did you ever really listen to what a lot of it was about? Was Body Count's "Cop Killer" not a huge thing for us? And we should all remeber the event from that song was influenced by. Right? Did we not all watch Family Matter and The Fresh Prince Of Bell Air? Did you forget the episodes dealing with racial profiling? Or how about the insanely tense cop scene in Boyz N The Hood? How did you feel after that? There is plenty more of these artists, songs, albums, shows and movies that we as a generation consider classic that I could use as an example but I think those should be enough to suffice.

As a white kid growing up in the Midwest I have been guilty of racism but I also understood a lot of what was happening to our African American brothers and sisters through their art. How could you have not? They were laying it all out there for us to see. How could you enjoy to even love any of it if you could not even try to begin to understand it? The message about what they had to deal with in their daily lives was pretty damn clear to me. And from what I am seeing from a lot of you it seems it missed its mark or maybe you just forgot. I hope you can reflect, look within yourself and back in to your life and understand that you do understand a little from the art we love, loved, like or even just enjoy and can always, always learn more and move forward.

Thanks,

Ben Schultz

Black Lives Matter

No Justice No Peace

If you are looking to learn more about Black Lives Matter here is their link. I found it more helpful that I could have imaginied.

https://blacklivesmatter.com/

If you are looking to help or learn more here are a few helpful links that contain even more helpful links.

https://abbiheartstaylor.tumblr.com/post/619477591995367424/how-can-i-help

https://greekgods.tumblr.com/post/619659812311007232/ways-to-help-protestors-if-you-are-unable-to

This post on Facebook has a link of places to donate if you want/can and a link that can help financially if you cannot donate.

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=3693109290716202&id=100000515011726

[spiffysixxsense]

Hello annoying best friend here to fulfill my duty by asking you to answer all of the cute asks

angel; do you have a nickname?

not really. my name is already short and I don't have a prominent quality to nickname me after. The only person who refers to me as anything other than my name is my boyfriend, but I don't think “babe/baby” really counts as a nickname lol

awe; how old are you?

24

baby; favorite color?

dark teal (blue-green? I've never found a good name for my favorite color)

bloop; spirit animal?

so because I didn't have a good answer for this, I decided to google a quiz to find out, lol. My answer was a deer. here's why;

When you have the deer as spirit animal, you are highly sensitive and have a strong intuition. By affinity with this animal, you have the power to deal with challenges with grace. You master the art of being both determined and gentle in your approach.

The deer totem wisdom imparts those with a special connection with this animal with the ability to be vigilant, move quickly, and trust their instincts to get out the trickiest situations

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?

i don't really have a favorite book, i don't read much outside of school (I wish i did)

movie: A Beautiful Mind

song: oh dear lord i cannot pick just one, but all-time favorite band of mine is Shinedown

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?

a little stuffed dog that looked like Kipper from the TV show, I still have him :)

breeze; most precious childhood memory?

lmao what came to mind was when i pledged to never drink, smoke, or say bad words. two out of fucking three ain't bad i guess. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?

(honestly neither but) fairies

bubbles; do you have a best friend?

given the asker, i would say yes :) also i am lame and my boyfriend is also my best friend 

buttercup; showers or baths?

S H O W E R S. hate baths!

butterfly; dream destination?

I've never had a huge desire to travel honestly. like sure i could say Italy or Greece look beautiful, but the actual act of traveling overseas really stresses me out lol. so i would have to say more like upper midwest, like Maine, in the fall time for all the pretty trees.

buttons; are you religious or spiritual?

i am neither

calm; favorite scent?

anything fruity - pineapple, mango, berries, apples. at least in terms of what candles i like lol.

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?

i do not remember anything from last night - the last dream i remember involved my boyfriend, dad and i being lost up north lol

charming; have you ever been in love?

currently 

cozy; eye/hair color?

hazel / brunette 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?

the 1970′s for the fashion

cupcake; favorite flower/plant?

love me a good succulent

cute; what did you get on your last birthday?

well this last birthday was amidst quarantine, so I got some candles and granola (my boyfriend knows me well lol)

cutie pie; most precious item you own?

i have no idea? what an odd question? probably some stuffed animal?

cutsie; what makes you happy?

picnics, alone time, my boyfriend, my cat choosing to cuddle with me.

daisies; describe a moment when you felt free.

I really cant think of a time I've ever felt truly free. maybe when i drove myself to school earlier this year & didn't have to wait for someone to pick me up? 

daydream; how do you want to be remembered?

as a light in others lives. happy, bubbly. things i currently am not

daylight; favorite album of all time?

gosh these dang music questions. well, Nickelback - All the Right Reasons was the first album i ever bought myself. then maybe Shinedown - The Sound of Madness (i cant pick one OKAY)

dear; zodiac sign?

Taurus 

delightful; concerts or museums?

concerts

dimples; have you ever written a letter?

yes? this question makes me feel old, lol. 

dobby; dream job?

criminologist. some way to be reducing the mass incarceration rate in the US. 

doll; how do you like to dress?

comfy, v necks and leggings. As i have gotten older i have slowly wanted to be more feminine i think, because i really want some sundresses for summer lol

dovey; any paranormal/magical experiences?

one! when i was 12ish, i swear i saw a reflection of a uniformed man (like old school soldier uniform - blue blazer with gold cufflinks) behind me in the glass of my snakes tank at the time. it was weird because the only reason i even looked that way was because my snake started shaking his tail against the glass, something that corn snakes do when they are scared, but also something that in his entire life had never done unprompted ever. 

dreams; do you want or have any tattoos?

want yes, have no

drizzle; do you believe in aliens?

100%. no way we are alone in this universe

euphoric; talk about someone you love.

he makes my days so much better :)

fairy; do you have a pet?

I have one little old kitty :)

fluffy; ocean or mountain?

to vacation, ocean. to live, mountain

forever; where do you feel time stop?

the secretary of state? lol

froglet; are you a good plant owner?

I've never owned a plant lol

garden; how many languages do you know?

one :(

gem; who are your favorite tumblrs?

@cy-ne-fin 

giggles; what is your aesthetic of choice?

sepia photography/old books that have yellowed into sepia. or fresh greenery on white marble. 

glittery; do you like anons? why/why not?

i don't really get any anymore, but as long as they are nice or just questions/venting, im down. don't be offended if i never answer though, for some reason i never get Tumblr notifications lol

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourself

im compassionate

im empathetic (which is similar but im struggling to get to 5 lol)

im goal-oriented

im determined (once i have said goal. again, related lol) 

i guess i like my lips/lip shape

heart; silk or lace?

lace

honey; coffee or tea? how do you take it?

tea. iced, black or green really, with sugar. 

hugsy; do you enjoy people watching or bird watching more? why?

bird watching because it means i am probably alone and in nature as opposed to somewhere in a crowd of people. and i wont feel creepy for watching the birds lol

hunnybunch; what sounds help you sleep?

white noise, a fan running. if that's not enough, i enjoy asmr. if i am really struggling/having anxiety, i will look up sleep stories from the headspace app on youtube (life hack to not have to pay for the app lol)

jewel; what’s your favorite kind of weather?

to be outside, i enjoy just warm enough to be comfy in pants and a t-shirt (so like 65F-ish) and sunny.To be inside, i love when it is cooler (like 50F?) and raining. I love the look, sound, and smell of rain but it is usually just inconvenient to be in. 

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?

well now all days are the same for me, #quarantine, so the same thing i do every day, just about nothing, lol

joy; do you laugh loudly or giggle more?

i guess laugh loudly because i am a loud person in general. i have a deep voice

kinky; do you blush easily?

i don't think so, my embarrassment turns into sweat, not blush, lmao

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?

i guess being proposed to someday? but i don't have a certain dream way of it happening, just the fact that its happening is enough for me lol. id enjoy if someone (cough Elle or also maybe Michael lol) were secretly filming and/or taking photos of it? I am not sure how you'd manage that though

kitty; what’s your favorite time of the day?

late at night when everything is quiet

ladybug; what’s your favorite artist to listen to when you’re sad?

old school three days grace (one-x album in particular)

love; what is your favorite season and why?

i always gravitate to fall for the leaves and pumpkin patches. but honestly, i think my favorite season is spring. i love the newly budding trees and flowers, the feeling of renewal, the release from the horrible Michigan winter lol, but most importantly, spring time for my whole life as of yet has always meant that school is over for the semester! as opposed to the fall when the semester starts. this is very long winded but spring final answer lol

lovey; what is your favorite flavor of macaron and ice cream?

I've never had a macaron and blue moon ice cream 

magic; what are five flaws you have?

ooooo boy

im short tempered/angry too much 

im unmotivated (which is confusing maybe because i said i am determined earlier. you see, once i HAVE a goal i feel determined to finish it. but i am unmotivated to create said goals, lol) 

im nonconfrontational to a fault where i always put others’ feelings before my own

i let fear of change stop me from ever taking risks/ am anxious

i am stubborn and sometimes have a hard time admitting i am wrong

moonlight; do you prefer soft pastels, warm neutrals, or cool darks?

this depends - screw pastels. warm neutrals for makeup purposes, but cool darks for aesthetic or decor purposes

munchkin; what do you look for in your significant other?

someone who feels like home. I am not entirely sure how else to explain that. you just feel peace and content with them. 

paddywack; how would you describe a perfect date?

something that allows you to only be with your date - so like a picnic or hike or just a walk even. my boyfriend and i liked to walk around in the fall for me to take pictures of leaves while he played pokemon go (man i miss the pokemon go summer and i have never even PLAYED it, it was just so fun to be with him while he played)

pebbles; how do you spend free time by yourself?

on youtube usually

precious; what is something valuable that you learned in your life?

The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. if your family is toxic for whatever reason, you do not owe them your time strictly because they are family. 

pretty; do you like to cook or bake more?

cook, im not super into sweets & i want to enjoy the final product

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?

normal? like its legible but its not pretty or cute

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?

no:( wish i could play bass or drums

prinky; how do you relieve stress?

i don't :)

i really don't have an answer other than solving whatever is stressing me out, lol. i wish i had more mechanisms to calm me down but nothing i have tried has ever really worked

pumpkin; what is your favourite kind of fruit/vegetable?

you know these favorites questions are hard for me lol. right now, i am loving watermelon, but i also love most fruits. kiwis! vegetable, i feel like i have to say potato lol

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?

lol the last thing i read had to be some academic text, so that's boring

roses; what is the most significant event in your life so far?

meeting Alex i guess, it changes my whole life path to have someone you want to do life with 

smile; what is one thing that has greatly affected you?

quarantine? lol

shine; art or music?

music is art.

shimmer; do animals tend to like you?

i think so. Elle’s dog griffin loves me for some reason lol

smitten; do you collect anything?

not really

smoochies; how many pillows do you sleep with?

4

snuggle; what is your favourite candy?

jolly ranchers 

snuggly; do you have a camera? if so, what kind?

nope

sparkle; do you wear jewelry?

nope

spooky; sunrise or sunset?

sunset

sprinkles; do you like to listen to music with headphones or no headphones?

headphones

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?

Spongebob probably. unless we are talking like really tiny, toddler age, then Winnie the pooh

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house.

i live in a 2 bedroom apartment, there arent any spots. lol. my bed i guess

soothe; digital or vinyl?

i mean digital for convenience but vinyl for aesthetic 

squeezed; who do you miss right now?

i mean the only person i really actively miss ever is Alex. @cy-ne-fin sometimes, but i have also grown used to living away from each other

sugary; what traits do you value most in friends?

loyalty, honesty, & humor

sunshine; do you prefer for things to be practical or aesthetically pleasing?

if i must pick, practical. 

sweet; do you find it easy to open up?

absolutely not. i feel like a burden with my feelings even though i shouldn't 

sweetie; do you like kids? if so, do you ever want to have any?

honestly not really. am on the fence still about ever having any 

thimble; is there somebody you look up to? who are they?

not really

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?

i am as average as they come man, nothing is unique about me lol

tootsie; what kind of friend are you?

like a background friend? like i am not very social, so we do not have to talk every day to be friends. so like im here if you need me, but i enjoy alone time. 

treasure; what was something that made you smile today?

the way my boyfriend looks at me, & as i was working on this my cat came to cuddle, which i gave as an answer earlier before he jumped up here :)

velvet; are you an early bird or a night owl?

night owlllllll

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?

the power to heal those who are hurting (including myself)

whimsical; do you prefer doing stuff at home or going out?

home home home home

whiskers; do you usually wear makeup?

not anymore, i did in high school/early college years. not I've stopped caring

wiggly; are you a messy or tidy person?

messy? kinda in the middle really. 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?

my state, sure. my city in particular is definitely pretty boring

wobbly; have you ever wished upon a star?

I've never seen one :(

[aeneidpdf]

ballpark au (3/?)

title: go home happy

chapter: 3/?

word count: 2.8k+

summary: au where the long walkers work at a ballpark. in this chapter, ray finishes up his first homestand and works his second. he wonders where he’ll fit in at the ballpark.

link to previous chapter: here

ao3 link: here

The next morning, Ray’s feet had hurt. Davidson was right about that. As he had gone to sleep the night before, his feet had been throbbing, and now he could barely put any weight on them as he tried to get out of bed.

Despite the pain he was feeling, Ray was feeling good about the job. He finished up that first three game series at Gate C. The second game, he scanned tickets, and he didn’t enjoy it. Scanning paper tickets was one thing, but scanning tickets on people’s phone screens was next to impossible for Ray. He kept on asking Davidson for help, which he happily provided.

The third game, Ray did traffic cop. Traffic cop really was more difficult than bowls, but Ray would never say that to Pearson. Controlling the crowd was hard, and Ray didn’t think he’d done a good job, but Scramm seemed pleased with him.

When he sent him home that night, Scramm had clapped him on the back. “You fit in nicely here, Ray. I hope to see you around,” he had said as he wrote Ray’s dismissal time down on his clipboard. It meant more to Ray than he thought it would.

On Thursday, they had the day off. Ray appreciated the break. His whole body hurt. His feet throbbed and his back ached from standing for so long in one place. Three games at Hadlock Park had turned him into an old man.

When he went back in to work on Friday, it was the start of a new series. The Sea Dogs would be playing on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday before heading off for two series in the midwest. Ray knew from experience that these weekend series were when the ballpark got the most busy. He had frequently come to Friday and Saturday night games with his friends in high school.

As Ray headed to the locker room, he already found that he recognized some people. People from Gate C, people he had seen as he took his break in the picnic area, people who had waved to Pearson and Harkness as they walked by the gate before the game had started. It felt good to know people. They didn’t know Ray now, but maybe soon they would. He wanted more than anything to find a place in the ballpark where he belonged.

After putting his things in his locker, he went to the office, like he had on Monday. “Ray Garraty,” he said, holding up his ID badge so the man could see his name.

It was the same man from before, with the light blond hair and funny purple sneakers. He scanned the list before him, flipping through the stapled packet before he found Ray’s name. “Upper two,” the man said, and Ray left to go to his position. Upper two was on the upper deck. Section 340 to Section 380. He was excited as he took the escalator up. Upper two meant he would be an usher.

Ray had wanted to be an usher when he first applied to work at Hadlock in January. Most of the questions in his interview had seemed to be geared towards him becoming an usher. They had asked if he was scared of heights and how he would handle disputes between fans. Ray had admittedly been a bit disappointed when he ended up at Gate C for his first series.

But now he would be an usher. Ushers seemed to have the most fun. When he had come to games in the past, he hadn’t paid much attention to the ushers, but they had always been smiling and friendly, ready to help out. As an usher, he’d really get to feel like he was a part of Hadlock.

He wanted to wipe down seats and talk with the fans and watch the game. He wanted to feel the anticipation leading up to first pitch. He wanted to watch the sun set over downtown Portland and to feel like he really was part of putting on something special. He wanted his own section.

His assignment in upper two was not what Ray had anticipated, however. They already had all the ushers they needed, and Ray was in fact the only member of the flex staff working there for that series. So the team leader assigned him to work the escalator. He greeted people as they came up the escalator to the upper deck, pointed them in the directions of their seats, and made sure no one fell. He got a radio, in case he needed to call for first aid.

It was a Friday, and Fridays were student nights. With a student ID, they could purchase $7 tickets in section 370 to 380. Some of them stumbled up the escalator steps, clearly already having had a couple of drinks. Ray kept his hand near the button that would stop the escalator, fearful that someone may fall. They talked to each other in loud voices, shouting and laughing uproariously. Despite the chill in the air, many of them wore short sleeves and the girl wore denim cutoff shorts. They hardly acknowledged Ray as they got off the escalator and went off to find their seats.

Ray panicked for a moment, wondering if he would see anyone he knew coming up the escalator. A lot of the people that went to his college hailed from either Portland or Bangor, and most of the people from his high school would be back in town after the end of the spring semester. It wasn’t that he was ashamed to be working at the ballpark- in fact, so far it was probably the coolest thing he’d ever done- but he felt a little embarrassed about working the escalator.

This thought slipped out of his mind as he refocused on greeting the fans and helping them find the direction of their seats.

After two and a half hours at the escalator, the crowd thinned out and Ray was mostly alone. The chatter on the radio kept him alert- missing kids, calls for first aid, communication between the gates. A couple times he heard Scramm’s voice.

It was hard not to feel disappointed, though. There was a TV nearby playing the game, but no matter how hard Ray strained to see the screen, he had no clue what inning it was or what the score was. The team leader had come to check on him a little bit in the beginning, but Ray hadn’t seen him for awhile.

When he looked behind him, Ray could see the skyline of downtown Portland. The sun was going down- it had disappeared behind a building. The sky above him was still a light blue, but in the distance, out over the water, it was turning a mix of pink and red and orange. The intersection of blue and pink reminded him of the cotton candy the ballpark vendors sold. Even from out here, the ballpark was beautiful.

Ray wanted to be in the seating bowl so bad, though. It felt like high school sports and being stuck on the bench when all he wanted was to be in the game with his teammates. Ray had always been the kind of person who hated to miss out. In high school, he’d beg and plead with his parents to let him go hang out with his friends, because he was afraid they’d have too much fun without him, or he wouldn’t understand any of their inside jokes the next time they were all together. In college, he’d put off studying to go hang out whenever his friends invited him. He’d gotten himself into trouble this way, but he couldn’t help that desire to be at the center of the action.

So far he hadn’t seen the field during game time. He’d only seen the stripe of green through the hallway that led out to the seating bowl when he’d been up at Gate C. He thought of Pearson and Harkness. Surely they were out in the bowl by now.

He wondered why Davidson never went out into the bowl. He wondered if he liked to stay at the gate for the entire game, or if he felt the same restlessness that Ray was feeling. It felt like hitting a wall.

The rest of the series passed in a similar fashion.

He came into work, feeling that gameday energy building and blossoming in his chest. When we walked with his coworkers to the locker room to clock in and when he headed to his post, listening to the music resounding around the ballpark as the team warmed up, he felt like his energy was too big for his body. But then his team leader would assign him to the escalator, and the rest of upper two would head into the seating bowl, and Ray would feel himself deflate.

Occasionally his team leader would come out to chat with him, and one of the ushers would come and cover for him while he took his break, but working the escalator was lonely. In the first couple of hours between the time when gates opened and the second inning, he kept busy with greeting fans and pointing them in the direction of their seats, but as the game dragged on, it grew dull.

It did, however, give him time to think. He reflected on his time at Hadlock so far. By this point, it was Sunday, and he had worked six games. He was about to finish up his first homestand.

He thought about the advice Davidson had given him on his first day, about how it was best to find a permanent position early. About how it was no fun to be on the flex staff in July. So far, Ray really did like his job, but he hadn’t found a place that truly clicked for him yet. He wondered if he truly liked it, or if it was just the novelty of coming to work at Hadlock Park. Maybe he only liked it because it was new and cool and exciting, and after he spent some more time here and it got hot he’d be miserable. He hoped that wasn’t the case.

He wondered if he would ever find the job in the ballpark that he truly enjoyed. How did Harkness and Pearson realize that Gate C was the right place for them? How did they find out that traffic cop and bowls were what they really wanted to do? Ray supposed he should have asked them.

During the seventh inning stretch, the escalator switched from going up to going down. The guy working at the bottom of the escalator gave him a thumbs up, and Ray started letting fans down. He guessed that the Sea Dogs were losing- he hadn’t heard many cheers, and a lot of people were lined up at his escalator to return down to the lower concourse.

It was still early May, and even in the afternoon it could be pretty chilly. Most of the fans were wearing long pants and light jackets over their Sea Dogs gear.

“Thank you for coming. Have a good night,” Ray said, repeating this script over and over as fans passed him to leave the upper deck. On Sundays, there were a lot of kids at the ballpark- more than any other day of the week. For most, the school year hadn’t ended yet, so there weren’t too many kids on weeknights, and on Fridays and Saturdays it was mostly adults and college kids coming out to the ballpark to drink and have a good time.

Ray spent a lot of time asking parents to take their kids off their shoulders before getting on the escalator, and telling them that their child couldn’t ride down the escalator in a stroller. Some of the kids were asleep, cradled against their parents’ chests, and some were full of energy, running circles around their parents in line and begging to stay for just a few more innings. Some of the kids waved to Ray, and he smiled and waved back to them.

It continued like that for awhile. From the bottom of the seventh inning to the time the game ended, there was a steady stream of fans leaving the upper deck. Before he knew it, the team leader and the rest of upper two were convening at the escalator, and it was time for them to go home. “Alright team, good homestand, I’ll see you back in a week.” They started down the escalator. As an afterthought, the team leader added, “And thanks, Ray.” They all talked amongst themselves as they walked to the locker room, sometimes including Ray, but oftentimes not. As Ray clocked out and walked to his car, he was hoping he’d never work in upper two again.

It was another week before the Sea Dogs were back in town. This time, they’d be in town for seven games, and Ray would be working seven days in a row.

The first series was three games, and for this one Ray worked at Gate E. It was on the other side of the ballpark from Gate C. At Gate E, Ray only scanned tickets. He got a little bit better, but it was still difficult. The fans would approach him, and Ray would say, “Hey, how are you doing?” and pray they didn’t have an electronic ticket. He would scan their ticket- getting it on the first or second try if he was lucky- and he would tell them “enjoy the game!” It was a routine he fell into comfortably over the three games at Gate E.

The boy scanning tickets next to him was named Percy. He looked like he was still in high school, but his name tag said “Team member since 2017.” This was his third year, and he scanned tickets like a pro. Ray oftentimes asked him for help. They would talk a bit when the crowd lulled, but Percy was shy, and it felt a little weird to ask for advice about Hadlock from a high schooler.

After his break, he would either hang out by Gate E and scan tickets for late comers to the ballpark, or he’d be sent on smoke patrol. Smoke patrol meant he’d walk around the entirety of the lower concourse and look for people smoking. He’d then ask them to put their cigarette out and go to the smoking section. He didn’t mind smoke patrol too much. It felt good to walk around and stretch his legs after standing in one spot for so long, and he was freed from the anxiety that came with scanning tickets. As he made his loop he would walk past Gate C, and one time he could see Davidson standing by the gate, chatting with Scramm. Neither of them noticed him, but it made him feel a little lighter just to see them.

For the next four game series, he worked at the smoking section. The smoking section was technically outside of the ballpark, and blocked off from the outside world by red bike racks. Working at the smoking section, Ray just had to stand around and make sure no one without a ticket snuck into the smoking section and walk around to make sure no one was smoking weed.

The cigarette smoke tickled his nose and made him sneeze. After each game he worked at the smoking section, he’d go home, and the smell of smoke on his clothes would scare his mother. She’d become worried and frantically interrogate him about whether he’d been smoking cigarettes. His father would be sitting in his armchair drinking a beer, saying he knew Ray would fall in with the wrong sorts, working at the ballpark. Ray didn’t even know how to begin unpacking that statement, but he’d calmly assure his mother that he hadn’t been smoking, and he’d give her a kiss on the cheek, and he’d go up to bed.

The rest of the workers at the smoking section didn’t seem to mind the smell and the smoke, or maybe they were used to it. They all stood together in a clump and talked, occasionally separating to do a loop through the smoking section and check in on the fans. Ray stood with them, listening to them talking and laughing along at their jokes.

They had that same kind of camaraderie that he had admired in Pearson and Harkness. Maybe working at the ballpark wasn’t about finding a job you loved. Maybe it was about finding the right place and the people that made you feel at home. Working in the smoking section wasn’t anything particularly fun or glamorous, but all the core people seemed to enjoy it. Maybe they loved each other, and that’s what made them love the job.

[reesewestonarchive]

chapter five / rem belongs to @forlornraven / masterpost / mature content

I don’t have a tag list so if you’re interested lemme know

South of the California border, Nakoa finds it.

The weather’s good, better than the Midwest, and Rem’s attitude is better. Freer.

Nakoa likes him like this. He buys booze and cigarettes with money that he won in pool in Vegas, and Nakoa makes a deal with a hippie they meet outside a record store for weed, and strolls the streets of Ferris, California high as a kite.

He feels pretty fucking good when he finds it, a tiny shop tucked away in between a coffeeshop and a consignment store. Music plays so loud it drifts onto the street, and Nakoa steps inside after he puts his joint out.

The shop owner lifts a hand at him in greeting, but says nothing. There’s a sign overhead that reads, DISCOUNT CASSETTES - $2 and Nakoa makes his way there, ignoring the albums and the deep seated desire he has to own them again.

When he gets a job. When he settles down.

London Calling sits right on top, along with a few other albums. Nakoa peeks inside, makes sure they’re right, that they’re really the one he wants, and… they are. All of them in damn near pristine condition.

Nakoa blinks. Picks up all three albums, puts them carefully on the counter and slaps seven dollars on the counter as well.

The clerk blinks at him. “Cassettes?”

“The van only has a tape deck.” Nakoa prefers it. CDs scratch, they skip. A tape deck can be rewound, if the ribbon comes out. Spliced back together.

The sound quality sucks, but Nakoa’ll make do.

The clerk shoves the tapes into a brown paper bag, and Nakoa leaves.

Stuffs it into his pocket, and continues down the street, taking in the city.

LA’s bigger, but Ferris is huge. Nakoa feels anonymous, here, lost amongst the sea of suits and skirts. There’s freedom, here, in a way Nakoa isn’t used to, even from the days in car from Withervale.

He crosses the crosswalk, wonders what Rem’s doing now. If he found another idiot to hustle, if he’s gambling.

If he’s still lying in the room at the motel, like he was when Nakoa left him.

“Hey,” Nakoa says, when he opens the door to the motel room, digging for the joint as he does. “I have something for—”

The motel room is fucking trashed. The bed upended, the TV sideways on the floor, scratches in the walls. Broken tables.- light flickers from where it hangs on the wall, and.

There’s a lot of fucking blood. Nakoa’s mouth goes dry, and he takes a careful step forward into the room. Wonders if he should say anything. If he should call Rem’s name, or turn around and leave.

Th van still sits in the parking lot, though, so Nakoa steps forward, into the room.

“Rem?” he calls, quiet, then louder. “This some kind of fucking trick?”

Shallow breathing, and Nakoa wishes he had a weapon. But then, Rem’s arm comes over the side of the bed, still donned in the bracelets he always wears. Relief might wash through him were it not for the blood.

“What the fuck?”

Rem staggers to his feet. “It’s—fine. Shut up.”

“There’s—” Nakoa makes a gesture to the walls. “No!” He feels a bit like he’s flailing in the water, trying not to drown when he should know how to swim. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last.

“It’s not mine,” Rem says, like that’s supposed to help. His voice is strained. He’s holding his side, limping, and—”Don’t give me that look, Warren.”

Nakoa clenches his jaw. “What happened.”

His brain is a fog of relaxation and weed and Rem is a fan blowing it all away.

Rem sits on the edge of the bed. Surveys the damage. “The van’s still out there, right?”

“That’s not a fucking answer!”

His voice sounds too loud in the space, and someone knocks on the walls, harsh and Nakoa has half a mind to ask them what the fuck happened.

The album weighs heavy in his pocket. He says, “Rem. What the fuck?”

A beat and then Rem snaps, “Like you’re some kind of fucking saint.” Before Nakoa can respond, he says, “I was cleaning up your mess.”

“What mess?!” What has Nakoa done, aside from shop, get high, fake ID himself into a liquor store; beside put the idea of leaving in Rem’s head to begin with—besides pay for the fucking motel rooms and food, and—

Nakoa grits his teeth.

“You’re an addict,” Rem says, pot calling the kettle, and, Nakoa sees red. “And you’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?” His tone falls flat on his tongue and, hell. Nakoa grinds his teeth, angry and lost and heartbroken. “Always looking for your next fix.”

“Fuck you,” Nakoa says, and wishes the blood on the walls were Rem’s, because maybe then he’d shut up. “You—” He wants to punch him, but—

Rem stares at the walls, at the floor, his voice sharp when he says, “Why’d I fucking come with you?”

His tone is vicious. Nakoa’s not sure he’s ever heard him so fucking irritated, so irate, so cruel. Rem says a lot of shit, his mouth gets him into trouble in more than one way, but Nakoa’s not used to being on the receiving end.

“What the fuck did I do? Besides give a shit about you, want you to be happy?” Nakoa grits his teeth. He can’t throw punches, really wants to knee Rem in the dick for this, for dragging Nakoa across the country and pulling this on him because—

Because he got fucking scared.

Rem’s still talking, continuing to throw shit around the room, cursing Nakoa’s tendencies towards whiskey and weed, at the one time he tried heroin, voice growing louder and louder until Nakoa snaps.

“You want me gone, I’m gone. Take the fucking van.” Nakoa pulls the albums from his jacket, holds them in the air, then throws them at Rem’ chest, grateful for the way he flinches, for the clack the cases make as they fall to the floor. “Good fucking luck.”

He turns, then, sticks his hands in his pocket, and disappears through the door to the room.

“Where are you going, Warren?” Rem calls, stalking after him.

“Doesn’t matter. Not here.”

Panic might settle in his chest, if it weren’t for the weed clouding his head. He’ll figure it out. Sell himself, if he has to.

But Rem grabs at Nakoa’s arm, desperation written across his face, and Nakoa almost gives. Almost. “I’m—Nakoa. Come on.”

Just fucking once, Nakoa wishes he’d say please. “What?”

Rem licks his lips, lets go of Nakoa’s wrist. “Don’t make me say it.”

Because it’s so terrible. Nakoa goes, anyway, won’t, doesn’t listen.

It starts raining. Nakoa walks around town, without Rem at his side, and in Ferris, it’s hard to not draw attention. Nakoa ducks into a bar, flashes a fake ID, and downs three shots of whiskey in one go. It’s smooth, warm, gentle.

The things Rem aren’t, and Nakoa knows he won’t find an answer at the bottom of a shot glass, but.

Worth a try, anyway.

He keeps to his own, glaring at anybody that tries for conversation. Nakoa’s chest aches with fury, but as the night wears on, and the clock ticks closer to last call, Nakoa regrets leaving.

Did Rem leave, Nakoa wondered. If all that’s left is Nakoa’s shit. Would he? Would Rem leave him here? Alone in a strange town. Nakoa’s been left in worse places, but the idea that Rem left, without him, is… fuck, he wishes he could call him. Talk to him without seeing his face.

He closes his eyes and shoves his palms against his eyes. The bartender clicks her tongue and says, “Suck it up, sweetie. Life just gets more exhausting the older you get.”

With a peek through his fingers, Nakoa says, “Great.” Life already seems pretty shit. Nakoa can’t take much more. “That’s uplifting.”

“Not my job to reassure,” she says, and Nakoa thinks he’d sleep with her, if she asked. “My job is to pour shots. You ready for round two?”

Round two ends up in the alleyway behind the bar, smell of vomit and alcohol pungent in the air. Maybe Nakoa’s not the only one drowning a past he’d rather not remember.

-

Rem is beside himself at the motel, pacing back and forth with his keys in his hand when Nakoa stumbles through the front door. “Thank fuck,” Rem says, his expression so relieved it looks painful.

Like nothing he’s ever felt before, Nakoa wants to touch. Rest his head against Rem’s chest and wrap his arms around his torso. Press his nose against Rem’s jaw, and…

“Are you okay?”

Nakoa nods. The world spins. He shakes his head. Closes his eyes against the onslaught of nausea and says, “Move,” shoving Rem out of the way and heading to the bathroom to dry heave into the toilet.

Sick sounds echo off the tile in the room, and Nakoa’s muscles ache, but he sits for an hour. Half an hour, until he stops feeling woozy. Until he can get up and…

He makes it to the other room, collapses on the bed. Just a second later and Rem sits beside him, drawing his fingers through Nakoa’s hair with feather light touches.

Nakoa hums. Pushes against Rem’s hand.

“Feeling any better?”

No. Nakoa says nothing, squirms down to rest his head on Rem’s lap, though, one leg on the floor to keep the spinning in his head down. Even the thought of talking sends his stomach into twists, so he draws his nails along the seam of Rem’s jeans.

With a sigh, Rem starts working at Nakoa’s shoulders. It’s as much of an apology Nakoa thinks he’ll ever get. “I’m glad you came back,” he says, his voice soft and quiet. Nakoa waits, for an explanation, for anything, but Rem says nothing. Not about that, anyway. Not about what Nakoa wants him to say. “We could stay here,” he suggests instead.

“No,” Nakoa says. He hates California already. “Mountains.”

Before he passes out, he hears Rem’s soft chuckle, thinks he must imagine the fondness seeping through.

When Nakoa wakes, it’s to the dim glow of the television, Rem’s soft breathing behind him. Rem’s arm is a comfortable weight over Nakoa’s waist.

He has, he notes with distaste, vomit in his hair, and the entire room smells of it—and lemon cleanser, distantly.

Nakoa pulls a hand up to scrub at his face, stare at the ceiling.

Thinks this place is garbage. In a way, he misses the midwest. He never got in trouble in the midwest… at least, not like this.

He shoves Rem’s arm off his waist and sits. Sits on the edge of the bed and feels a thousand years old, a headache that pounds at the back of his skull like a hammer.

“Mm?” Rem says, reaching out. His fingers brush the back of Nakoa’s shirt. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Nakoa says. “Go back to sleep.”

He goes for a shower, then, cold not by choice but by poor water heaters, lets the chill wash goosebumps over his skin. Nakoa’s been high once, one time since they left Withervale, and… what would the hippie have to do with him, now? Nakoa paid. He paid extra, even, because he liked the guy.

…is that what he did wrong?

The door to the bathroom opens. Through the frosted glass door, Nakoa makes out Rem’s form as he comes in. Still, Nakoa says nothing, turns away, shoves his face under the water.

Not sure if it’s shame or anger keeping him from speaking.

The door slides open after a minute and Nakoa hears, feels Rem’s presence as he climbs in behind him. “Shit that’s cold—” he says, and presses himself against Nakoa’s back.

“What are you doing?” Nakoa asks, his voice barely audible over the roar of the water. Rem presses his lips to Nakoa’s shoulders in a kiss. He’s tired. He aches, everywhere, but especially his stomach, his shoulders, with the effort of throwing up. The last thing he wants to do right now is balance for shower sex, or get on his knees.

But Rem’s hand doesn’t travel downward, doesn’t go anywhere except around Nakoa’s waist to tug him tight against him. He’s not hard, either. Not yet. Nakoa’ll give it five minutes and call it.

“You freaked me out,” Rem says, his voice soft. “Thought… what if he doesn’t come back?”

Nakoa goes still, his eyes set on the small bar of soap sitting on the ledge, but that’s… it. Doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t know that he can. His toes are starting to feel like ice. He twists the hot water all the way to the left, but even as the water finally starts to warm up, Rem is still like a fire against his back.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you?”

“This supposed to be an apology?” Nakoa asks. He reaches for the soap, not sure if he cares about pissing Rem off, now. Let him be pissed. What’s he going to do, leave Nakoa here? “It’s pretty fucking lacking.”

“Fuck you,” Rem says. His voice isn’t as harsh as Nakoa thinks he means for it to be, though. Instead, it’s… softer, quiet. Gentle, and Nakoa suppresses a shudder when Rem brushes his lips along the back of his neck. He pushes Nakoa’s wet hair out of the way and adds, “It’s good you came back.”

All the right sentiment and the wrong words. Nakoa relents, finally, says, “Don’t have anywhere else to go.” And he doesn’t. He’s not sure what might await him at home, but he’s not keen on finding out. The other options are hardly appealing—wandering the countryside as a homeless weirdo… Nakoa’ll pass.

Even at his worst, Rem’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to Nakoa. A lifetime of shit led them here, in this moment.

“What do you want from me?”

The water pounds against Nakoa’s skin, almost aching now in its heat. He closes his eyes, rubs soap against his body, and thinks. Commitment’s too much to ask. Nakoa’s not sure he wants it anyway. What would he do with commitment?

“I don’t know,” Nakoa says.

Rem doesn’t speak, after that.

The bed feels better after cleaning the grime off, so just as daylight begins to peek out of the curtains, Nakoa climbs back under the covers. The sheets smell like Rem and spilled whiskey, and he inhales once, twice, heavy and deep, before he settles in.

His head isn’t pounding as bad, anyway. Finally.

Rem’s pulling on his boots at the small table, though. He pauses before he ties the last one, his gaze heavy enough on Nakoa that Nakoa opens an eye, then two. He croaks, “What?” and doesn’t expect an answer.

“I’ll be back later.”

And out the door he goes.

The trouble is, Nakoa’s used to Rem’s disappearances. Before the door’s even locked behind Rem, Nakoa’s eyes are closed again. Rem does better no questions asked, so Nakoa doesn’t ask. Figures if it’s important, Rem will tell him.

He dreams of white picket fences, of guys with clubs and bats, of broken windows and Rem’s bloody knuckles. Of motel rooms across the country, of Disneyland. Of being happy, and Nakoa thinks, that’s what he should have told Rem, when he asked in the shower what Nakoa wanted from him.

Happiness.

[askmountainstate]

Halloween Bash

Alex sat next to John glaring into the crowd at the annual Halloween Bash Alfred held every year. It was ridiculous and full of people Alex knew Alfred never once spoke to in his long life and a multitude of nations he didn’t even like.

“Would you stop giving the death stare? You look like you’re about to go pillage a village there, Mr Pirate,” John commented as he tied back his long hair.

Alex snorted and sat back. “I don’t know why I even come to this stupid thing. I don’t even have a date.”

“First of all, you come because it’s always held in your city. Second, you never bring a date because you’re so damn hung up on a dumb 400 year old crush. You always end up getting too drunk to function and go home with me. It happens the same every year.”

“Okay that happened once! And I’m not hung up on a dumb crush. I got over that in the 1860s.”

“Sure you did since you’re staring at Thomas right now.”

Alex hadn’t actually realized that’s exactly who he’d been staring at. Though it didn’t matter that John was the one that noticed. John always noticed. Thomas never did. Currently he was too wrapped up in doing shots with Scott, giving the state of Maryland a much too explicit kiss between every one. Their dumb tradition of doing whiskey shots at every party they went to hadn’t gotten old for them yet.

“I hadn’t meant to stare at him in particular.”

“Well you’re still doing it. You’ve missed how West Virginia appears to have struck another deal with old Russia. Or that Northeast and South disappeared out the front door a half hour ago. Oh look! They came back! Ben’s lion ears are crooked. Oh and you missed Alfred somehow getting stuffy old England in tights again. When are you gonna wear tights to this thing?”

“Would you shut up already? Why are you so observant?”

“Lots of practice people watching my dude. Discrete staring. You should learn how to do it sometime so you don’t look like a kicked puppy every time Scott even says a word to Thomas.”

Alex snorted.

“You know Alex, you really gotta move on. They’ve been together forever. Almost 200 years now. That’s half our lives. You gotta face it. It’s not gonna change.”

Alex sighed and leaned his head against his hand, knocking his pirate hat crooked. “Yeah I know. I tried once. Back before the Constitution. It was just the two of us for a while. I tried and he turned me down like I was a beggar asking for loose coins. He was torn up about Scott. Yeah he was hurt bad but that’s what war does. He couldn’t tear himself away from that. I think he loved Scott way before we even fought for independence. There’s nobody else for Thomas. If he was given a million chances to redo everything he’d pick Scott every single time.”

“If you know that why do you still hang on to that hope? There’s billions of people out there. There’s forty six other states to choose from. There’s states closer to you. I’m pretty sure Marianne is single. So is Emma and Owen. Not to mention all the Midwest. I’m pretty sure the rest of the northeast is single as fuck. Not counting Ben he’s super married and I’d like to see you try and put moves on him. You’ll take a rifle to the face like Thomas did.”

“Emma doesn’t like men first of all. Second of all Owen is a little...different. Marianne won’t give me the time of day.”

“You have a thing for Thomas but not his brother who is just like him in a hell of a lot of ways. The three of those guys look exactly alike. They all have the same freckles and everything.”

“Thomas has different colored eyes than his siblings. They’re a different blue. And Emma has more freckles than her brothers.”

“Dude get a grip. You gotta move on.”

“And don’t you think it’s fucked up to try and get with the siblings of the guy I like and his sister in law.”

“Well they aren’t married so Marianne is probably free game. Shit if you don’t make the moves on her or me tonight I might go after her myself.”

“I’m not making any moves on you, dick.”

“You don’t say that when you’re down on the Shore rolling in the sand with me.”

“SHUT UP!” Alex snapped. He settled and thought for a second. “Wait did you say Thomas and Scott aren’t married?”

John modded. “Yeah I talked to Scott last summer when we were trading ideas on how to make our boardwalks better than Florida’s. He said they don’t wanna get married. They’re afraid of the political issues. You know it’s always a mess in that area when it comes to politics with DC right there and all that.”

“You’d think sharing land for DC would make them getting married make more sense.”

“Nah. Most of the city is on Maryland land. Jefferson made that decision. Honestly I think that helped us out a bit more in the war, locking Maryland down. Kept the city on our side.”

“Not even that war could tear them apart…”

“Well look what it did to Ben and Eli. If it did anything it unified the coast.”

Before Alex could speak, Thomas sat heavily across from them. “What’s up? You guys seem bored.”

Alex fought the urge to perk up. “Where’s Scott?”

Thomas spun the glass jar he’d brought with him on the table. “He went to talk to his sister after Emma challenged me to drink a whole jar of her deadly moonshine.”

“Did you win?” John asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Of course not. Nobody beats Emma in a moonshine drinking contest.”

Alex fiddled with his sleeve. “What was she talking to Russia about?”

“Getting her roads fixed or some shit. Her government won’t do it so she’s going to Russia to see if he’ll help. He tried to once in the 60s but Alfred blocked it and her government took over and actually did it.”

John waved at one of the waiters wandering around the party for a drink of his own. “Don’t you make it hard for her to fix her highways since you won’t get your ass in gear?”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “She hasn’t sent me a proposal yet. She’s working with Scott right now.”

“So he’s the one dragging ass.”

“Your roads haven’t changed since 1776 so shut your mouth, Jersey Shore.”

Scott appeared for long enough to give Thomas a big sloppy kiss that went on too long before disappearing again, his squirrel tail for his costume bouncing behind him as he went. Thomas watched him go almost in a daze. Alex turned his head away while John made gagging noises.

“You guys are gross,” John commented.

“I’m way too drunk to give a shit what you think,” Thomas replied, still watching Scott try to get Emma to dance to something that was very much not country.

“What did you come over here for anyway? To flaunt that we’re single and you’re not?” Alex asked, glaring over at Thomas.

“Are you still hung up on me? Move on already. I hear you sleep with Ol Jersey enough to make it official,” Thomas snapped, turning steady blue eyes on Alex.

Alex snorted. “Want another hole in your mouth? Seems you didn’t learn your lesson the first time.”

Thomas narrowed his eyes at Alex. “First of all, mind your damn business. Second, Id like to see you try. You couldn’t hit the broadside of a ship with a musket back during the Revolution.”

Alex’s face heated. “Shut up Thomas! You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stood up and grabbed John by the collar of his shirt and yanked him after him. “I think I’m done with this family get together.”

Thomas simply snorted and stood up himself. “Seems the rumors are right. You always leave this party with Johnny Boy.”

Before Alex could snap back, Thomas had already strutted away. He joined Scott and wrapped his arms around him to sway to the music. Alex spun back toward the door and hauled John after him.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

During the Obama years, Republicans won total control of the state government1 in Indiana, Michigan, Ohio and Wisconsin. Then, on Election Day in 2016, Hillary Clinton narrowly lost in Michigan, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin — states Democrats had won at the presidential level for more than two decades. She was easily defeated in Iowa and Ohio, which had tended to be close.2 Clinton barely won in Minnesota, another state where Democrats are usually strong. Post-election, there was a lot of doom and gloom about the Democratic Party’s prospects in the Midwest, with both nonpartisan analysts and even some party strategists suggesting the party needed a dramatic overhaul or risk losing in this region, which will be packed with white, working-class voters, for the foreseeable future.

Never mind all that now. Democrats are looking strong in the Midwest — it is by some measures the region where they are likely to make their biggest gains this November.

Let’s start with the House. Because all 435 House seats are on the ballot every two years, the House will provide the fullest picture of how the two parties are doing in 2018. According to the Classic version of FiveThirtyEight’s House forecast, Democrats are favored to pick up about 14 seats in the Midwest. That’s a big number on its own, but it’s even more significant when you think about that gain in terms of regions. Sure, the Democrats are likely to gain seats in the Northeast and Pacific, as you might expect, but they are making even bigger strides in the Midwest in terms of the number of seats they are expected to gain relative to the total number of seats available in the region.

To compare how strong Democrats look in one region versus another, we have to put regions with different numbers of seats on equal footing. To do that, we divided the number of seats Democrats are favored to win in each region by the total number of seats there. We then multiplied that by 100, which shows us how many seats the Democrats would be favored to pick up in each region if every region had 100 races. When all regions are normalized in this way, we can see that the Midwest is shaping up to be the party’s best region. (How you divide the states into regions is a matter of great and impassioned debate, of course; here we’re using an old-school FiveThirtyEight categorization. But yes, feel free to object to Pennsylvania being included in the Midwest if you like.)

The House race by region

Current and projected Democratic House seats by region, as of Oct. 29

Dem. seats Region Includes Current Proj. Change change per 100 races Midwest: Prairie KS, NE, ND, SD 0 2 +2 +23 Midwest: Rust Belt PA, OH, MI, IN 16 24 +8 +15 West: Big Sky UT, ID, MT, WY, AK 0 1 +1 +12 Northeast: Acela NY, NJ, MD, DC, DE 33 39 +6 +12 West: Southwest AZ, CO, NM, NV 12 15 +3 +12 Midwest: North Central IL, WI, MN, IA 20 24 +4 +11 South: South Coast FL, GA, NC, VA, SC 23 30 +7 +10 West: Pacific CA, WA, OR, HI 51 57 +6 +9 South: Gulf Coast TX, AL, LA, MS 14 16 +2 +4 South: Highlands MO, TN, KY, AR, WV, OK 5 6 +1 +4 Northeast: New England MA, CT, ME, NH, RI, VT 20 21 +1 +2

The potential Democratic gains are scattered throughout the Midwest, from Pennsylvania (where they’re favored for four pickups) to Iowa and Kansas (two) to Michigan (one).3

It’s not just the House, either. Democratic incumbents are clear favorites to win their Senate races in Michigan, Minnesota (two races there, actually), Ohio, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin. They are modest favorites to hold on to seats in Indiana and Missouri — which were very red in 2016. Democrats are favored to win gubernatorial races in Illinois, Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota and Pennsylvania. The gubernatorial contests in Ohio and Wisconsin are toss-ups, and Democrats even have a chance in two very conservative states, Kansas and South Dakota. A win by Tony Evers in Wisconsin would be particularly significant for Democrats, who have failed in three different attempts to defeat Gov. Scott Walker.

What’s behind what appears to be a Midwestern revival for Democrats? Well, the most obvious answer is that Democrats didn’t have such a big problem in the Midwest in the first place — so it is entirely logical that they would do well there in 2018 because it is shaping up to be a good year for Democrats nationally.

There were a lot of stories as Obama left office about how Democrats had lost hundreds of seats at the congressional, state legislative and gubernatorial levels while he was president. But parties that hold the White House often lose seats in other places — Republicans had huge down-ballot losses when George W. Bush was president, for example, and it looks like they may have similar declines under President Trump.

The pattern seems to be that the best thing for a party that wants to make gains at the state and congressional level is to lose a presidential election first. In particular, midterm elections are typically rough for the president’s party, even if that president is popular — and Trump is fairly unpopular.

So we should have expected Democrats to bounce back overall after 2016 — and that’s exactly what’s happening. It’s not that Democrats are likely to make gains only in the Midwest, after all. Our Classic model shows them picking up at least one seat in every region in the country.

But why are the biggest gains likely to come in the Midwest? First of all, 2018 is confirming what previous election cycles had suggested — this is an area that swings a lot between the two parties. Democrats made major gains in the Midwest in 2006, then faltered in the Obama years and look to be having a revival now. And because Democrats lost in many key races in the Midwest in 2010 and 2014, there was some low-hanging fruit for Democrats to pick off in a year like this. (Like the governor’s mansion in traditionally-Democratic Illinois, for example.) Contrast the Midwest with the South, where Republicans have steadily gained ground for two decades and are likely to lose relatively few seats even in what appears to be a Democratic wave year.

Secondly and relatedly, national polls suggest that white voters without college degrees favor Republicans in 2018, but the margin between the two parties is likely to narrow compared to 2016, when Clinton lost that bloc by more than 30 percentage points. That shift has outsized influence in the Midwest, which has higher populations of white voters without college degrees than many other parts of the country. So the Democrats’ problem with white working-class voters may not be as severe as it looked on Election Day 2016 — which perhaps had more to do with the conditions in that election than the party overall. What we are seeing in 2018 suggests that working-class whites are not a single national bloc, but still vote much differently by state and region. Working-class whites in Southern states like Georgia and Texas are overwhelmingly opposed to Democratic candidates in key races this year, but they are less GOP-leaning in Midwest states like Ohio and Wisconsin.

I don’t think the Democratic strength in these races in the Midwest is particularly tied to the candidates who are running or any kind of major ideological or tactical shift within the party. Wisconsin Sen. Tammy Baldwin is a populist, Bernie Sanders-style Democrat and has embraced a Medicare-for-all health care proposal. Minnesota Sen. Amy Klobuchar is more of an Obama-Clinton Democrat in terms of ideology and has not embraced Medicare-for-all. Both are likely to win. Ohio Sen. Sherrod Brown is often described as being particularly good at connecting with voters, but Wisconsin gubernatorial challenger Evers is considered, even by some fellow Democrats, to be kind of dull and uninspiring — and he could win too. There aren’t a lot of nonwhite Democrats running in key races in this region, but several women are running — so Democrats have a slate of candidates in the Midwest that is broadly similar to the party overall in terms of demographics.

It helps that Michigan Sen. Debbie Stabenow and a few other Democrats in this region are incumbents, but Michigan’s Democratic gubernatorial candidate, Gretchen Whitmer, has a sizable lead too — and she has never before been elected to statewide office.

Two caveats to all of this. First, the Midwest had some of the biggest polling misses in 2016. So maybe, for example, Ohio’s Democratic nominee for governor, Richard Cordray, whose race is considered a toss-up, ends up losing by 5 points. I still think, even if the polls are inaccurately titled towards Democrats, they will end up having a better night in this region than they did in 2016. Secondly, I’ve cast this story as Democrats doing better in the Midwest than their worst fears in the days immediately following Clinton’s loss. Those fears now look overwrought, but Democrats could still have cause for concern after Election Day 2018. There’s a real chance Democrats narrowly lose the governors races in Iowa, Ohio and Wisconsin next month. If the party can’t win in these states when there’s an unpopular Republican in the White House, when can they win?

Aaron Bycoffe contributed research to this article.

[crispychrissy]

Lost and Found - Part 2

Summary: You head back to the bunker with the boys, but things get complicated when you get some news and an unexpected guest stops by. Pairing: Eventual Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester, Castiel Word Count: 2746 Warnings: Angst, language, throwing up A/N: Things get complicated! I’m really enjoying writing this series. Beta’d by the amazing @saxxxology and if you want to be tagged in this series, please send me an ask!

Lost and Found Masterlist

Sam’s eyes went wide the moment you told him your father’s name. “What? Why do you guys keep freaking out at everything I say?”

“It’s not… sorry, Y/N,” Sam offered, rubbing his forehead. “Does your dad have any siblings?”

“My dad had a sister named Deb that lives in California, and a brother named Jimmy that lives in Illinois. Why?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Pontiac?”

“Yeah,” you dragged the word out, raising your voice at the end like it was a question. “How did you know that?”

Dean sighed from the front seat. “Well this just got a lot more complicated.”

“What does that mean? What aren’t you guys telling me?”

“It’s really complicated, sweetheart. We’ll explain more when we get back to the bunker, okay?” Dean waved his hand at Sam. “Call Jody first, just don’t mention... you know…” He wiggled his thumb at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, but bit your tongue. Sam pulled out his phone again and tapped one of the contacts. You had no idea who Jody was, but you were hoping she would be able to help find out if your father was alive.

“Hey Jody,” Sam said into the phone. “Been good, thanks. You?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and cringed at the residual dampness of your clothes.

“That’s great, Jody. Tell them we said hi. I actually have a favor. Can you do some checking and let me know if you find anything on a Steve Novak, resident of…” Sam looked back at you.

“Stapleton, Nebraska.”

“Stapleton, Nebraska,” He repeated into the phone. “Uhhh, no. Well, she has no memory. Just let us know if you find anything, okay?” He nodded. “Thanks Jody.”

Right as Sam ended the call, you leaned up in the seat again, sticking your head between the two brothers. “You gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

Sam jumped a little at your voice being so close to him, and you smiled. “Not until we know for sure, okay. I’m gonna call a few hunters that work the midwest and west coasts and see if they know your dad. You should relax, get some sleep. We still have a bit of a drive, but I promise I’ll wake you if I get any news about your father.”

You nodded, yawning, suddenly overtaken by immense fatigue. You ignored the squeaking noise of your butt as you swiveled to the side and brought your feet up on the seat. You heard the shuffling of clothing in the front seat and you saw Sam turn around and hand you his jacket, a warm smile creating perfect dimples in his cheeks.

“For a pillow. Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

“Thanks. Night, Sam,” You mumbled as you slid the wadded up jacket under your head and let the rumble of the car and Sam’s delightfully musky scent lull you to sleep.

“Y/N?” A hand gently jostled you. “Sweetheart, wake up.”

Dean.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wrinkled your face, and curled back into the blanket, not wanting to move. Dean sighed and pulled the blanket off you, exposing your surprisingly still damp clothes to the chilly air. You groaned as a shiver tingled under your skin and surrendered to Dean’s will, opening your eyes. He was standing over you with his hands braced on the top of the car, a small smirk on his lips.

“Mornin’ sleepyhead,” Dean drawled. “We’re at the bunker.”

You rubbed your eyes and sat up, your head woozy from the blood rush. You slid over to the open door, Dean stepping back, and you stood up. Your legs instantly went out from under you and Dean was quick to wrap his arms around you, steadying you so you were leaning against the car.

“Whoa, easy there. You okay?” Dean bent down.

As if on cue, your stomach growled extremely loud, and a blush crept up your cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat in days, I’m starving.”

Dean smiled and lifted your arm over his shoulder to support you. “We grabbed some burgers on the way here and got you one. You’re not some hippie vegan chick, are you?”

You smiled and giggled. “No, Dean. A burger is great. Thanks.”

Dean helped you take a few steps toward what looked like a stairwell. You finally had a chance to look around, amazed by the old and beautiful cars that surrounded you in what looked like a garage. There was a large symbol on the back wall that you recognized from a few of your dad’s books, but you didn’t say anything.

Dean led you down the stairwell and into a long hallway with numbered rooms on the right side. He made a few turns and you walked into a large room with a stove and fridge. The kitchen, evidently. Sam was sitting at the table with a forkful of salad in his hand, clicking away on a laptop. He turned and looked at you as you walked in, a smile twitching at his lips.

“Look who decided to join us!” Dean announced as you walked in. He released your arm and you began to shuffle your way over to the table on wobbly legs. Sam noticed how much you were shaking and immediately rose to his feet, grabbing your hand to guide you to the table to sit across from him.

Dean slid a foil wrapped burger in front of you, along with a beer. You pushed the beer away from you and shook your head. “I’m 19, I can’t drink. Can I have some water?”

Dean shrugged and nodded, taking away the beer and walking back to the fridge. “You know, you’re technically 28 years old, not 19. Whatever the hell got to you just stopped you from aging.”

“Oh,” you breathed out. “I guess I am. Still, my head still hurts and I don’t want to add alcohol to the mix.”

“Smart choice,” Sam raised his beer and watched you smile. “So, how far were you in school?”

“I was in the end of my second semester. Prepping for final exams.” Dean dropped a bottle of water in front of you and took a seat next to his brother, unwrapping his burger at the same time you unwrapped yours. You took a deep breath in through your nose and sighed happily at the smell, closing your eyes.

“I don’t know the last time I had a burger,” you said before you took a large bite. You closed your eyes and moaned at the taste of spicy meat, melted American cheese, ketchup, and the slightly sweet special sauce. A satisfied smile twitched at your lips as you chewed and swallowed, licking a drop of ketchup off your lower lip.

You opened your eyes to see Sam staring at you, his lips parted. You raised an eyebrow at his gaze and he blinked rapidly, looking down at his salad, a light red hue staining his cheeks.

Dean opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by Sam’s phone ringing. Sam checked the caller ID and looked up at Dean.

“It’s Toby,” Sam tapped on his phone and put it up to his ear as he stood and walked over to the fridge. “Hey, Toby...”

You reached over and grabbed a few fries from the bag in front of Dean, causing him to shoot you a disapproving look, only earning a shrug from you in response.

“Oh, alright. Thanks man. Yeah, will do,” Sam’s somber voice made you tilt your head as he tapped his phone and walked back over to the table, setting it down next to his laptop.

He didn’t have to say anything, you could see it in his eyes.

“No…” you rasped out. “He’s-?”

Sam nodded and reached over to engulf your hand in his. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. He died a few years ago on a, uh, a demon case in Texas.”

Hot tears began to sting your eyes as you snatched your hand back from Sam’s hold. You buried your head in hands and let the sobs wrack your body. You had absolutely zero memory of the last ten years and your dad had died while you were missing. You weren’t even there to say goodbye. Maybe he’d been searching for you when it happened.

Oh God, this was all your fault...

You looked up at Sam as tears ran down your face and immediately clamped your hand over your mouth, panic in your eyes. You looked around and spotted the garbage can in the corner and quickly got up and ran over, emptying the albeit little contents of your stomach into the bin.

You felt a warm hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles as you continued to dry heave. You didn’t know who was with you until you heard Sam speak up and pull your hair back from your face. “It’s okay, Y/N. You’ll be okay.”

You collapsed once your stomach stopped heaving and leaned against the garbage can, the sobs continuing as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. You mumbled an apology as Sam helped you to stand and navigate your way back to the table.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, your throat sore. “I just… I’m all alone now. I didn’t know my mom, I was never close to my aunt or uncle, if they’re even still alive, and I was an only child. My d-dad was all I had left.”

You heard a loud clang echo from one of the rooms next to the kitchen, and footsteps clunking down what sounded like metal stairs. Dean’s eyes went wide and he jumped up from his seat and sprinted through the doorway behind you. Sam brought your attention back to him by placing his hand over yours.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Sam soothed. “You’re more than welcome to stay here while you get back on your feet and while we figure out what happened with your memory. We’re only a short drive from Stapleton, so we can stop by where you used to live to see if there’s any of your dad’s things still there.”

“So my dad hunted monsters?” Sam nodded, and you scoffed. “Why did he keep that secret from me?”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A lot of hunters that have kids try to keep them out of the life. Dean and I were raised by a hunter and we’ve had more broken bones and cuts and bruises than anyone should have in their lifetime. We’ve even died a few times-”

You arched a brow. “You’ve died?”

“A few times, yeah.” Sam took a sip of his beer and shrugged. “Long story short, it didn’t stick. And besides, from the hunters I talked with who worked with your dad, he rarely went out in the field. He mostly did research. He wanted to stay at home with you, and after you went missing he kinda just… he started going out more and more.”

You smiled and gasped a sob, letting tears roll down your cheeks again. “I’m gonna miss him so much, Sam.”

He offered you his palm and you took it, squeezing it tightly, allowing Sam’s warm hand to ground you and allow you to breathe.

You heard hushed voices coming from the other room, causing you to slightly turn your head to listen closer. You recognized Dean’s voice, but not the gruff voice of the man he was speaking, or rather, whispering with.

Sam was about to say something when Dean emerged in the doorway. You spun around and looked up at him, eyes still red and puffy with tears.

Dean looked at you and sighed. “Y/N, this is going to be really weird… I mean really weird for you. All I’m going to say is that it’s complicated.”

You furrowed your brow and wiped a stray tear from your cheek as Dean stepped into the room, followed by another man in a long brown trenchcoat. The moment he stepped down into the kitchen, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Uncle Jimmy?!” Your face lit up and you stood up from the table, immediately running over and pulling him into a tight hug. You felt his body stiffen at the contact and you pulled away, confused. “Uncle Jimmy, it’s me, it’s Y/N! Don’t you… don’t you remember me?”

“Really, Dean?  You couldn’t tell her, you had to just let her get her hopes up?” Sam scolded his brother harshly.

“What’s going on?” You looked up at your Uncle Jimmy. “Don’t you recognize me? I’m your niece, Y/N, I’m Steve’s daughter.”

“I am sorry, Y/N,” the body of your uncle said, “I am not your Uncle. I am an angel, Castiel. Jimmy was… well, is my vessel.”

“You’re… you’re an angel?” You arched your eyebrows as anger filled your empty stomach. “And you’re wearing my uncle?!”

Sam and Dean both began to speak at the same time when they saw your hands ball into fists at your side. “Y/N-”

“What the fuck is going on?” You cut them both off, your voice a half-octave higher and much louder than you’d ever had to make it before.

“Well, long story short… Castiel came to your uncle and got permission to use him as a vessel so he could walk around and not be a wispy glowy thing of light,” Dean began, “he pulled me out of Hell a long time ago and has been helping us ever since. Your Uncle gave up his body, his life, to help save the world.”

“And, what? You just kicked him out of his body and took over?” You asked, tears streaming down your face.

“No, Y/N. We existed together.” Castiel stepped into the room as you stepped backward away from him. “I was allowed to control his body, and we shared a consciousness. It’s… very hard to explain.”

“So he’s still in there?” Your voice broke. “Can I talk to him? Please, let me talk-”

Sam came up behind you and placed his hand on your shoulder, and you instinctively leaned into his touch.

“No, I’m sorry,” Cas offered a sympathetic look. “This vessel was severely damaged several years ago and in order to contain a soul, it needs to maintain a minimum of structural integrity. When that damage occurred, Jimmy’s soul ascended to heaven. A few years ago, your aunt Amelia joined him after saving Claire.”

Your face lit up. “Claire? She’s alive?”

Castiel nodded. “She lives with a sheriff friend of Sam and Dean’s in South Dakota.”

You let out a shaky breath and smiled. “I haven’t seen her in years. I’m glad she’s safe. Can I talk to her?”

“Maybe later,” Sam interjected. “You need to finish eating and get some rest, Y/N. You’ve had a lot thrown at you.” He lightly grabbed your elbow and attempted to pull you back to the table, but you shook out of his grasp and stayed standing.

“Can… can you just show me where I’m going to be sleeping?” You said dully. “I really want to be alone right now,” you picked up your burger and unopened water bottle from the table and clutched both of them close to your body.

Sam nodded solemnly and pointed to the doorway you entered from. He guided you down the hallway and stopped at the second door in the row, opening the door for you. You smiled weakly at him and walked in, turning around to look at him.

“If you need anything, I’m in 21, right at the end of the hallway,” Sam gestured behind him, ”It’s like a maze in here and you’re going to get lost the first few times you walk around, so let me or Dean guide you, okay? And if you need to talk, I’m here. Remember that.”

You nodded and he smiled, closing the door behind him as he left. You have never had a stranger offer you so much help, but your mind was congested with everything you’d learned in the past hour and you couldn’t keep your thoughts straight. You were swimming in a pool of sorrow and barely keeping your head above water. The moment the door clicked shut, you collapsed on the bed and let go, crying and sobbing until your tears dried and you drifted off to sleep.

Tags: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wh1sp3r1ng-impala @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @ididntasktogetmadedidi @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @feelmyroarrrr @donnaintx

Lost and Found Tags: @jadepc @sammit-janet @luciferskidd @diana-reads1 @laws16 @winchesterxtwo @atc74 @artistxalex @abbytheghostcat @emmazach @animelover177 @dannbyu @its-impala67 @ladydw @paradisecityplease

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Resource Management, pt24

Word Count: 1897 Tags: @supermoonpanda @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @samaxraph99 @anotherotter  @outside-the-government @kingarthurscat @coyote-in-space @originalpottervengerlock @dolamrothianlady @curiositywillbethedeathofme @superheroesofbothuniverses @mtriestowrite @wanderingkat77

It was probably stupid to go home, not knowing if Garrett was going to want me back. I couldn’t see him needing me, but he was crazy enough to want to kill me, and it gave me pause. But I wanted clean clothes, and a shower, and something to eat. I wanted the comfort of my own home. I wanted to hold my passport in my hand, and know that if the world stayed completely upside down, I could escape home, into the forests of northern BC, and not worry about anyone coming after me. Of course, once again, I had no way into my apartment. Fortunately, once again, my super was a champ about letting me in. This time, however, he had more to say about my job.

“Did you even know, Annie? Sometimes the grunts don’t know,” he muttered.

“I had no idea, Bob.” It was true. I still didn’t have the details, but I’d known there was a HYDRA infiltration. But we’d never had the chance to figure out how deeply it went. Cecelia Banks was a genius.

“The grunts never know.” He patted me on the shoulder and pushed my door open.

“Thanks, Bob.”

“What are you going to do now?” He asked.

“Good question. I don’t know,” I admitted.

“You let me know if you need anything, sweetie. You’re a good tenant, and good people,” he rested his hand on my arm.

“Thanks, Bob.” I closed my door and went directly to the bathroom. I started running the tub, hot, and full of Epsom salts and bubbles, and poured myself a full tumbler of whiskey. I stripped down and dropped my clothes in the hamper before padding back to the tub, glass in hand. I slipped under the bubbles and sighed. I wasn’t able to let go of everything, but I released a fair amount of tension just letting the heat soak into me. I leaned my head against the tub surround and closed my eyes.

I must have nodded off. I heard a knock on my door, and realized my water had gone cold. I slipped out of the tub and into my bathrobe. I crept to the door as quietly as I could and peered out the peephole. There was no one there, at least, no one I could see. There was no way I was opening the door. I stepped away and went to get dressed.

I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and flopped down to turn on CNN. I wanted to know what all was going on. I kept the volume low, and heard a knock on my door again. This time I ignored it. I heard the door unlatch and open and dropped to the floor in front of my couch.

“Annie, it’s Bob. I have something for you,” he called. I crawled around the living room and came up behind my cracked open door. I peered through the peephole again to make sure he was alone. He was.

“Let me open the door, Bob.” I shut it and unlatched the chain to pull the door open. Bob stepped in, his grey work coat pulled closed. He pulled a gun and holster out and handed it to me.

“This is my service revolver, honey. I’ve been glued to the TV since that first flying ship came down. You need it more than I do.” He dug in his pockets and pulled out a couple of box of bullets.

“Bob, I can’t –“

“Way I see it, kiddo, you have to. You’re not the kind of girl to not be some kind of important. And if you aren’t with the terrorists, it means they’ll be looking for you. My money says you probably have some secrets tucked in your brain that someone would kill to keep quiet. Take the gun. You’re from the Midwest somewhere, right?” He interrupted.

“I’m from western Canada –“

“I’m pretty sure I have your mom’s address in St. Louis on your lease. I’ll forward anything important to you there,” he cut me off again with a wink. “You should really think about going home for a visit until this blows over.”

He shuffled back out the door and disappeared down the hallway. I felt sick. He’d worked for one of the agencies for years, and if he thought I should run, he was probably right. I went to start packing. I pulled out my backpack and carefully picked the stitching out of the big maple leaf badge. I only packed a couple of days worth of clothes, as I had lost my purse in the safe house somewhere, so had only the cash that was stuffed in the mason jar in the back of my baking cupboard to get me anywhere. And considering I’d already raided it once recently, there wasn’t much left. I changed into the same cargo pants and sweatshirt I’d worn the last time I’d be ‘on the run’, hoping for similar luck. It was a moment of weakness, but I really wanted Phil to sweep in and save the day. I wasn’t usually a Disney princess, but this time I really wanted to be rescued.

I grabbed a few things that I couldn’t live without, just in case I wouldn’t be coming back, and tucked them away in an inner pocket in my bag. I slipped my laptop into the padded back panel and zipped it closed. I took a final look around my apartment, mentally saying goodbye to my books. Everything else was replaceable, but the books would be a loss if I couldn’t return. I opened my desk to dig around for my passport, and couldn’t find it. I opened the next drawer and moved the papers in it around, but it wasn’t there either. I double checked the first drawer again and checked my night table. No passport. I knew it hadn’t been in my purse, I’d only used to it to replace the ID that had gone up in the first attack on the Triskelion, and clearly remembered putting it back in my desk. I pulled every single item out of both drawers, but my passport was gone. The small envelope that I kept my Canadian ID in was also missing. Someone was trying to trap me in the USA.

My heart started racing again. I had about forty bucks in cash and no identification. It was going to make a border crossing difficult. I could hear voices in the hall, and what sounded like the crackle of a radio. It stopped right outside my door. I slid everything back into my desk and peered out the peephole. A couple of guys carrying guns in black tactical gear were gesturing to one another. I backed away from the door and headed to the kitchen window. I looked out, but didn’t see anyone watching the window. Whoever they were, like Garrett, they were underestimating me. I slid my window open and hopped onto the fire escape. I climbed down to the alley and walked away from my building as calmly as I could. When I was sure I was clear, I sped up and didn’t look back until I was on the metro on the way toward the bus station.

It was dark in New York City when I got off the bus. I’d bought the ticket for the busiest place I could think of, where I had the best chance of blending into the crowd. It wasn’t until I was halfway there that I thought that I might be able to track down Tony Stark at the Avengers Tower.

I walked into the lobby of the building and approached the security desk.

“Can I help you?” The security guard was old, and his shoulders stooped forward a little. His silver hair was brushed straight back, and he had a big bushy mustache that reminded me of my granddad. I couldn’t help but smile at him.

“I need to see Mr. Stark.”

“It’s 10:30,” he put me off.

“If I know Tony, that means he should just be cranking the stereo in the lab,” I nodded. If he was here, I thought. The guard raised his eyebrows and looked down at the computer screen. He typed something in.

“He would have left a name if he was expecting anyone. There’s no list for tonight.” He shook his head.

“If you could just call up to him?” I implored.

“If you know Mr. Stark, like you say you do, you know he doesn’t like being bothered when he’s working,” the guard typed something else into the computer.

“I do know that,” I said, “but this is kind of an emergency.”

A tall redhead walked off the elevator towards us, talking on the phone.

“No, I’m telling you, this is a total mess. A building was literally destroyed by a helicarrier with one of our new proprietary engines in it, and I’m going to be doing damage control for days about why you have terrorists using your tech. So no, Tony, I am not coming back upstairs,” she sounded flustered, and the hair, coupled with the conversation, made me realize she was Pepper Potts. I wanted to reach out and grab her, but she looked over and saw me standing there and stopped.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Potts, I told her –“

“Who are you?” She interrupted the security guard. Tony was still on the other end of the phone, I could see the timer on the screen counting up airtime.

“Anna Ellis.” If I said it louder than I needed to, it was because I saw that the call was still live. Potts jerked her head away from the phone and glared at me.

“How do I know you’re Anna Ellis?” She demanded.

“Please, Ms. Potts. I don’t have any ID and I have three dollars and ninety-six cents left. I have nowhere else to go.” I wanted to sit down and cry.

“But how do I know you’re who you say you are?” She put the phone down on the counter between us and hit the speaker button. Tony didn’t say a word.

“Tony brought a bunch of art into my office a few weeks ago,” I started.

“Too easy.” They said it in unison.

“The Starry Night was fake, but the Sunflowers were real. The hideous art deco Iron Man print was the real focal point of the room though,” I continued. Potts shook her head, still not convinced.

“He added pages to my Thor scrapbook that wound up having some sort of computer chip embed in them that allowed him to hack the SHIELD servers and discover Agent Coulson was still alive,” I concluded. I had nothing else. Potts went pale.

“Phil Coulson?” She shrieked, “Tony, Phil is alive and you didn’t tell me?” If she’d been able to beat him through the phone, I think she would have. The elevator doors opened and Tony stepped out, then stepped back in. Potts spun around and stalked toward the mirrored doors, practically glowing red with rage.

“Pepper –“

“Oh no you –“

“Pepper, Annie needs me alive if I’m going to help her.” He cut her off and darted around her, pocketing the phone. I was so relieved on seeing him that I slumped down against the security desk and started to cry.

[alorconsulting]

On a recent trip, I learned something new about my Husband… he’s a Big ‘Ol Goonies Fan! While strolling Cannon Beach in Oregon a few days before driving into Portland, he turned to me with a look I thought I knew well. I was expecting a romantic turn of phrase like “I swim in your eyes.” Yes Italian men DO say such lovely things and yes it does make this midwest kid swoon. This time he really surprised me though, saying “do you remember that scene in the Goonies, where he lined up the rocks with the coin, look!”

Goonies Rock Coin Scene

On no trip before, has he been so adorably geeky to me. Typically, while walking on beaches, he soaks up the nature, takes photos for hours and I silently fill up my eyes. On this trip we walked on water and relived our childhood.

We both remembered a startling amount of details from the movie, as did my friends. I shared photos from the beach only to receive back text of “Watch out for the Fratellis!” “BABY RUTH!!!” “Never Say Die” which I yelled to my Husband as we ran in and out of the waves.

My Goonie memories start way back in Grove City, Ohio with a bucket of popcorn at a friends house. My Husband’s, in the only theater in Bardoneccia, Italy. Fast forward to present day, as a married couple having just flown in from our home on the East Coast, staring at the Haystack Rock on the West Coast, I found myself wondering. Despite having grown up half a world apart, by chance… were we ever doing the exact same thing, at the same time, like watching the Goonies? Truly the important thing, is that we grew up to share the same passions in life. We are experiencing the world through as much travel as we can muster and building our lives together towards the freedom to do so as often as possible.

Our trip to Portland was highly anticipated for months and I have to say, from shore to city to Mount. Hood, Oregon did not disapoint. I can easily see why so many people have fantasies of picking up and moving to the proudly weird city of Portland in the Beaver State as reported in this recent New York Times Article. If you like many take a trip to see what it’s all about, all I can say is don’t skip the shore.

For grown-up Goonies, Cannon Beach Oregon is a playful paradise. You get to be a kid, romantic, a food geek, a coffee, beer, nature and art lover and spoiled by nice locals all in one trip. We only had a few days and I craved more, I’m ready to go back… right now.

Cannon Beach Goonies Rock

 The Cannon Beach Hotel is a Unique Inns B&B that’s been “practicing hospitality” since 1914. Located just two blocks from Haystacks Rock inland, staying in this charming B&B at a reasonable rate felt like a treat. The room itself, left me leaping up and down at just the sight of the bathtub, let alone the Four Poster bed and the fireplace. Plus, any lodging that puts saltwater taffy on the bed and gives guests towels specifically meant to dry your hair faster, has me at “welcome.”

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The Cannon Beach Café has a Parisian theme that somehow works in this Oregon coastal region. Located in the B&B itself, we were delighted to discover that breakfast was included with our stay. Each morning, we were greeted coffee at the ready, by Julianne telling us not to miss the homemade scones, frittata and granola all served up in a room awash with morning sunlight.

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In between our hotel and the short drive to Ecola park the downtown area of Cannon Beach hosts many local art galleries. We jumped in and out, street by street, getting to know the local art scene. Oregon attracts a bounty of artists for it’s seemingly infinite natural beauty. Combine some of the most amazing beaches around with a more affordable lifestyle and you get the organic growth of a strong art community.

Here are a two not to miss Cannon Beach Galleries:

Archimedes Gallery

Archimedes: Perched above Insomnia Coffee Shop, the owners of Archimedes gallery know a thing or two about promotion and placed some choice pieces inside the coffee shop to draw people upstairs. That’s exactly how we found this well curated New Contemporary Art gallery. Rarely do I walk into a gallery and think, I want that and that and that! Here I did. Their pieces are accessible, mainly illustrations with a strong emphasis on Realism and Surrealism, youthful and playful. Once you walk into their space, you want to stay, maybe move into a back room for a while.

Jeffery Hull Gallery

The Jeffrey Hull Gallery: As the wife of an artist, it’s inspiring to see another make a living with their own gallery. Aside from making me personally dream of the day Paolo Ferraris Colors becomes a destination gallery, the large format watercolors of Jeffrey Hull are inspiring in their own right. His works have a beautiful calm that lull you into relaxing as you walk through his second floor gallery. With sweeping views of Oregon’s lush nature waving in from each of the galleries window the watercolors around the walls seem to captures the regions spirit.

After all of our exploring, we were famished! I’d done my research and was excited to try The Irish Table. When we arrived there was an hours wait, my Husband seeing disappointment on my face, opted to put our name on the list. We settled in to wait next door at the Screw & Brew which is either exactly, or not exactly what it sounds like… depending on how far back into adolescence your Goonies trip takes you. Part hardware store, part pub the laid back spot served up the perfect pints to tide us over as our Irish Table turned.

I’m not a beer expert but since our trip to Belgium earlier this year, I’m game to try almost any pour. Much like in Belguim, with over 173 breweries to claim, Oregonians really know how to make and drink, their brews. In Oregon the answer to “what’s on tap” seems to never be “Bud, Bud Light, Stella, Heineken” it’s always “local this, hefeweizen that.” The list goes on and on with names familiar to locals, but for thirsty tourists your just a hop, stout and a malt away from a new favorite.

Oregon Brew Map

Just about the time we were considering a second round, the warm, friendly and accommodating host of The Irish Table, wandered over to get us in person. As our eyes adjusted to the intimately dark space, our appetites set in. Thankfully, warm Irish Soda Bread and butter hit the table just after our menus. Between traveling on a budget and trying to stay healthy, we’ve learned if you start with a little bread, that splitting a main is often plenty of food to share.

Frequently, waiters will pressure us trying to amp up our order to amplify their tip, something that frustrates my Husband. Throughout Europe, the waiters and waitresses do not depend on tips to make a living, so the restaurant experience is far more relaxed. Thankfully, our waiter at The Irish Table didn’t skip a beat, making us feel like we placed the perfect order for two. The seared Piemontese Flat Iron Steak, Colcannon (potatoes and local kale) Bacon and Jameson Peppercorn Sauce simply put blew my mind. The steak was cooked perfectly, each ingredient shined through yet the flavors blended nicely in this hearty comfort dish. Indeed it was plenty for two. Afterwards, we simply crossed the street to our hotel, flicked on the fireplace, opened an Oregon Pinot we had picked up earlier from the Wine Shack and settled in for the night.

The next morning, it was time, for the full on Goonies experience, we hit the road heading North to Astoria, Oregon. Along the drive as we veered farther from shore, the scenery changed. This short trip North drove home a strong reminder that logging is big business in this part of the country.

Oregon Roadside

It somehow felt sad to see how the mighty timbers had fallen into the hands of industrial greed. It’s a sight I’m glad I had the opportunity to see. There are times when the big box stores, the prefab nature of American suburbs allow us to be blissfully out of touch with the impacts of our consumerism. Evidence we are cutting Mother Nature short was stacked up all around me on the drive. A trip through the Pacific Northwest would not be complete without the full picture. After we silently drove through the slaughterhouse of giants, I welcomed the sight of lush green Astoria as it rounded into view.

View from Coxcomb Hill Astoria Oregon

After stopping at Coxcomb Hill, the highest point in Astoria for a grown-up viewing of the historical territory once traversed by Lewis and Clark, we sat our sights on the true reason for our Portland detour, the Goonies! With a quick Google search, we found we were merely minutes away from the house so blazon in our memories.

On a very unassuming street, full of homes that people clearly loved and created life long friendships in, we got our first glimpse of the white house high on the hill. Walking up the drive, visitors are welcomed and respect for the neighborhood is requested by signs posted in yards all around. Everyone we pasted had a look of youthful satisfaction and recollections dancing on their faces. I found myself hopeful that any second now, Data would zip line right by us as we joined a few other tourists snapping pictures.

Goonies Drive Astoria Oregon

Through most of Oregon, we were accompanied by locals and American tourists. So it was somewhat surprising, to hear many different languages from passing tourist while visiting the Goonies house. Cresting the top of the driveway, perhaps the biggest surprise was the Isreali Flag hanging proudly from the front porch next to it’s American sibling flag. Both proudly waving to all the international tourists who sought out the shared memories of Chunk, Sloth, treasure maps and adventure. I’d be willing to bet when filming the Goonies, the actors now grown, would never have guessed people around the world would come to love their characters.

Goonies House in Astoria Oregon

After letting our inner kids run wild, we reeled them back in just long enough to not be carded as we ordered up our next local Oregon pint at Fort George Brewery and Public House. It was here when I first realized two really cool things about the Oregon Beer culture. First, because there are so many local breweries, you can almost always get beer to go!

Second, if you’re in the mood for a chili verde burrito, not only is it going to be delicious and homemade with local slow roasted pork shoulder braised in tomatillo and Anaheim pepper sauce; but, your waiter will listen to what type of beers you like and suggest one that stand up to and cuts the heat of your dish. I loved this place, from the second we walked in. Full of locals enjoying a hearty lunch and a local brew, the water was in view and the staff was as knowledgeable as they were friendly.

Typically, when you know you’re going to write about the food your eating, proper edict would be to take a photo before you dig in, but when I start with half a beer… by the time the burrito hits the table and that spicy, warm pork hits my nose, I’m hopeless and start eating right away.

You don’t have to be a Goonie to fall in love with Cannon Beach or Astoria while in Oregon but it certainly makes the entire trip feel more like an adventure. With only three days and countless new memories already created, we still had the entire city of Portland to look forward to. As we wrapped up our time in Astoria with a final stop outside the Oregon Film Museum, I snapped one last photo of my Husband’s Goonie glow. The building served as the jail in the movie and as cheesy as it sounds I think a part of my heart is locked away in the dream of a future home base in the Pacific Northwest.

Goonies for Big Kids On a recent trip, I learned something new about my Husband... he's a Big 'Ol Goonies Fan!

[back-home-ballers]

How I Won SNL Tickets: info + tips

I promise this’ll be the last post I make about my SNL experience for those who are sick of hearing about it, but I’ve been working on this since Sunday and I wanted to address a few questions and give a few tips for the show + meeting the cast after (I know a lot of what I’m going to touch on are things I was curious about prior to, and after winning as well)

PART 1 (HOW I WON) - Okay so I sent an email for the April biggest fan contest maybe a day after they tweeted about it from SNL’s official twitter. They’ve been doing these contests every month since February I think, so I’d be on the lookout for a May contest in the near future. In terms of what to put in the email, I honestly could not tell you what they’re looking for, or how closely they read the emails. I know some people have sent serious emails and won, and others have sent funny emails and won. I personally sent a “funny” email with a few serious notes. So I sent that in mid/late March & I received an email on the morning of April 6th that I’d won tickets for the April 15th show (9 days notice). You have to email them back within 24 hours to confirm your tickets & it’s apparently hit or miss whether or not you receive confirmation of your confirmation. 

If you don’t win tickets through this contest, or the August lottery, you can always do standby. I have personally never done standby, so I cannot speak to that experience, but I know general information for that can be found on NBC’s website. For the show I went to, standby was insane because of Harry Styles, people had been lined up all week. However, I hear for most other shows, if you get there sometime on Friday before like, 6-7 pm you’ll be fine. Just know the significance of the host & musical guest, and remember stand-by does not guarantee you’ll get in. 

PART 2 (THE DAY OF THE SHOW & NYC) - I live in NY, but I go to school in the Midwest (moving back to NYC in the Fall, but that’s irrelevant) and we were on Easter break so getting a flight home wasn’t a big deal, and I had a place to stay. I know if you’re coming from far away & you win on short notice, NY is expensive so here’s a few mini-tips on that I guess: first, it’s usually cheaper to fly into LGA. I know that LGA is objectively the worst, but like, money. In terms of lodging, I might try to stay outside of Midtown and take public transit. Midtown is a money sucking hole, and I would avoid it for most of your trip (Although, if it’s your first time in NY or you really love touristy stuff, Midtown is a great place to explore). The entire city is super expensive so plan accordingly.

If you’re going to dress rehearsal, I know my letter said to check in BY 7 pm, but they let us upstairs at 6:15 pm. So when you get upstairs, MAKE SURE YOUR CELL PHONE IS OFF AND AWAY. There is absolutely no photography. There will be a page at the top of the stairs, and you tell them what line you’re in. There are two separate lines that I saw. From what I gathered, I think one line was people who know people, and one was contest or lottery winners. So you go up to a desk and show them your ID (it’s SO important that you bring a valid photo-ID with your date of birth on it) & your confirmation letter. Then they’ll give you a wristband, and an envelope with your tickets in it. The wristbands for dress rehearsal were either blue, or purple. There were very few purple wristbands, and everyone I saw with a purple wristband ended up in a floor seat.

After you get your tickets, you go through security, which is basically just a metal detector. They said no bags, so we didn’t even bring purses, but it looks like you’re allowed to have purses and just not backpacks. I wouldn’t risk it though if you think your purse might be too big. After security you go to the Peacock Lounge where another page looks at your envelope and directs you to either of the sides or the middle section. So this is going to sound kind of off but here’s what I observed about the sides: On one of the sides, you had the purple wristbands, and other generally good looking people. On another far side were people who seemed to know the NBC staff, and in the middle were the common folks. My friend and I were in the middle section. So you sit there awhile & they play music and there are big screens with pictures from sketches and it’s all cool and fun. 

When they started loading the audience, they called the purple wristbands first. Then they called by envelope number & letter or symbol. So the people on the good-looking side generally all left first, then people who seemed to know people all seemed to have stars on their envelopes and they went up next, and then they started calling plain numbers from the middle section. Our envelope number was 30, and I didn’t realize that we were literally the last number until they called up to 25 and it was only my friend & I plus these two guys were left in the little waiting area. So we joked with them about how we’re plebes, and blah blah blah so they eventually say “Everyone else in the Peacock Lounge may now make their way to the elevators”. So we got up, and got in line at the elevators, and I guess they started letting standby people into the waiting area because eventually they started lining up behind us. 

Once you get up in the elevators, everything is totally random. We got separated from our new friends in the studio, and despite being last, we ended up with good seats. We were on the center bend and we could see pretty much everything. They let in 30-40 girls from standby and most of them were way to the side in the kind of crappy seats where you can’t see the two main stages. A few standby people ended up in the center sections in seats that weren’t filled, and they were the last ones in.

PART 3 (THE SHOW ITSELF) - So the studio itself is a whole lot smaller than I imagined, and with the exception of that side section, most seats are incredible. The show starts with Che doing stand-up, and he was actually pretty funny. After that, Kenan, Kate, Vanessa, and Sasheer came out and did the cool song & dance thing warming up with the band, and then they set up for the cold open. I had a Trump cold-open, so it was cool to see Baldwin in his element. He seems to always be in the zone. So they do a countdown, and then the cold-open happens, and let me tell you, the rush between the cold-open and the monologue is real. They do the cold open in front of the main stage, as many of you know, so they have like a minute to get the whole set out, and it’s really something else to watch.

So they do the monologue, and I know for mine, they had dancers. So they swapped out everyone who was on the floor for the dancers, and then while the dancers were in the hallway, the people in floor seats had to literally run back. The people on the floor move a TON. So be prepared for that if you’re on the floor, especially in the front row.

They do sketches all over the studio, so at one point or another, one is going to be happening right under you where you can’t see it, and cameras can sometimes get in the way even when they’re directly in front of you. It’s all cool though, because there are TV screens you can watch on, or if you’re set on looking at the floor, it can sometimes be fun to sit and read the cue cards even if you can’t see the cast.

The musical guest performs twice for those of you who aren’t familiar with the set up of SNL, and with Harry Styles, the stand-by people were going insane. Staff yelled at them at least five times, and I know it’s exciting being in the studio, but it’s important to remember that it is a studio, and that people are working. So that’s just a little side bar there.

For Weekend Update they set up two big black things on either side of the set for the shot I assume, and during dress rehearsal Che & Jost told several different versions of the same joke to I assume see which one got the best reaction.

At the end of the show, as soon as goodbyes are over, they sort of rush you out so they can prepare for the live show (I don’t know how it is after live) Sometimes you can spot cast members in the hallway which is cool, I saw Colin & Bobby as I was walking out. You come out in the NBC store, so it literally feels like you just went on a Universal ride or something.

PART 4 (THE BARRICADE & MEETING THE CAST) - If you’re planning on trying to meet the cast afterwards, they come out under the 49th street marquee. If you’re planning on doing standby and your priority is meeting the cast, I would choose dress rehearsal tickets because they set up the barricades and people are out there before the live show gets out.

My friend and I started lurking outside around 10:40 pm and they set up the barricades around 12:40 am. Most people showed up around 11:30 pm. They set them up on the side closer to the street so stand around that side before they set them up. 

The cast members start coming out around 1:15 am usually from what I hear. I know Leslie came out at that time, and went straight to her car. Most of them came out between 1:30 am and 2:00 am.

I think my biggest tip if you’re going to do barricade is be respectful. Treat not only the cast with respect, but the people surrounding you. I think being respectful entails a lot of things, and for me the biggest things were people hopping the barricades. First of all, don’t do that. For one thing, when security tells you to move, you might not get whatever spot you originally had on the barricade back (and if you push your way back into it, then that’s like a double dick move) and second, the barricade is a physical boundary that is there for a reason. I know it sucks to be like penned in, and to feel like an inferior, but it’s ultimately to keep the cast, and everyone there safe.

My last two-cents on respect is I generally recommend asking before taking pictures, or videos, and always express gratitude. In terms of cast obligations, they are not required to take any pictures, or videos, or sign things, so don’t feel bad, or angry if they don’t stop or have to leave.

PART 5 (FINAL BITS & PIECES) - In terms of accommodations, NBC is great. My friend has trouble with stairs due to a disability, and as long as you correspond with them before the show, they’ll be able to make whatever you need happen. I know if you win the biggest fan contest on Twitter and you can’t make the show you win for, they’ve changed certain people’s dates. I don’t know how that works, but I know it has happened. In general, everyone at NBC is super helpful, and friendly, and they do everything in their power to make sure you have a great night.

So I hope this was helpful, and informative (I’ve been working on it since Sunday). If you have any other questions, feel free to shoot me a message. Otherwise, have an amazing morning/day/night/evening, and good luck with your SNL adventures!