#also we hung out last week and spent 3+ hours on the highway after we were in that minor 4 car pile up and did not get to go tubing

[born-to-lose]

Devil's Bells snippet #3

Liz, Antonio and Phil decide to kick Jack out of the band

Antonio and Phil were loading the last bags into the van as Liz said goodbye to her family. The boys thanked them for letting them stay here and they were on their way. After all, they had an important gig in Hamburg coming up tomorrow. Important meaning they were opening a sold-out show for an established German band at a popular scene club and would even get a cut of ticket sales. Usually, they played free gigs or in front of a small audience.

“Hey, what about JD, where is he?” Antonio asked and Liz shrugged.

“I blissfully forgot about his existence until now. No idea where he is. If you want, you can call him and ask if he wants to come with us or keep being a bitch,” she suggested nonchalantly.

Phil called him and, unlike if Liz had tried to reach him, he picked up the phone. “Hey, Phil here. Where are you? We're leaving for Hamburg.”

“Ah yeah um…” He paused and the male voice in the background made Liz clench her teeth and grip the steering wheel tighter, taking her foot off the gas so she won't start speeding in anger. “I'll be at the Jet gas station near the Burger King and hardware store,” he murmured into the phone and hung up.

“I swear if he doesn't show up there by the time we drive past anyway to get on the highway, I won't wait for him,” Liz said, knuckles turning white around the wheel, but Antonio placed his hand on her thigh in an attempt to calm her down.

“Nice scenery here, I thought the Northern part of Germany was more boring, I've only really been around Bavaria,” he commented to distract all of them.

“Have you been to Franconia?” the singer asked excitedly.

“Like Nuremberg? Yeah, but I didn't like that city as much as some other places I've been to while touring there. I remember Würzburg and Bamberg being quite nice.”

Liz grinned. “You better say something good about Würzburg, I spent the first couple of years of my childhood there.”

“I know, that's why I said it,” Antonio teased. “No really, I liked that palace with the park and it wasn't too loud and busy for a larger city. Plus, there was a rad record store when I went there last year.”

“Wait, you didn't tell me H2O Records still existed? We could have stopped there on the way the other week,” she pouted, throwing her head back.

“I'm sure we'll be back there soon,” he smiled. “Hey, there's the gas station.”

Liz pulled over and looked around. “So, where is he now? I'll count to ten and then we're off to go without him.”

She started counting and about halfway through, Phil pointed out, “Ah, there he is!”

Frankly, she was disappointed that he was able to get ready and walk fast this once. At least she was granted 15 minutes of a peaceful car ride and she hoped the next one and a half hours in the same car as him wouldn't be too painful with the help of some mixtapes she had freshly made during her stay at home.

Jack opened the door and wordlessly sat down next to Phil. “Hey man, where did you stay?”

They got on the highway and there was still no reply from Jack, except for an annoyed look at the drummer, followed by an eye roll and a scoff. “None of your business, somewhere better for sure,” he mumbled eventually.

Liz glanced in the rearview mirror but decided not to waste a single word on him. Deep inside, she wanted to punch him. She kept up the silence the whole time while her bandmates tried to start a conversation with Jack. They hated complete silence when they were together with other people, but in this case, she loved the silence compared to what would happen if Jack did talk.

The fact that he didn't respond to what they were saying either made her feel a little better about herself, but also made her hate him more because he seemingly couldn't get his shit together and talk to people he had no personal problems with. He could ignore her however much he likes, but he had no reason to be a dick towards their friends as well.

“Ready for the show tomorrow?” Antonio turned his head to look at him.

“What show?” Finally a reaction from him – if only it hadn't been the dumbest thing he could have said.

They all looked at each other in disbelief because he definitely wasn't joking. “Seriously? The sold out gig supporting Chaotic Daze?”

Liz heard the flickering of a lighter and suddenly noticed a gross smell, making her look in the rearview mirror again to see Jack with a joint in his mouth. Luckily, there was a pull-in only a few meters away and she stopped there, getting out and swinging the door open on Jack's side. “Get out of my fucking car if you wanna do drugs,” she snarled, but he smirked and blew smoke directly in her face. “That can't be only weed, and even the smell of pure weed I hate. Get the fuck out and stay there, I'm serious.”

After a pause, he shook his head in annoyance and put the joint back in a ziplock bag. Liz looked at him skeptically before closing the door and getting back on the driver's seat and on the road.

The silence continued for the rest of the ride, except for Liz quietly singing along to the music that wasn't too loud yet loud enough to almost make her forget who was in the backseat next to Phil.

When they arrived in Hamburg, they first checked into the hotel before the obligatory city tour. At the reception desk, they were given the keys to their room which they would all share, just like they usually did when they allowed themselves the luxury to book a hotel instead of a hostel.

Just as they were about to leave the lobby, Jack spoke up, “Sorry, could I maybe get a separate room?”

The rest of the band looked at him in confusion but none of them intervened and they started looking for their room, leaving their bassist alone. He had never brought up wanting his own room before and from the tone in his voice and his behavior in the last couple of days, they figured it wasn't worth the energy to talk to him more than necessary.

As they were locking their room, they saw Jack down the corridor. “Hey, wanna check out the city with us?” Phil asked, although he already knew his answer.

“Nah,” he replied, still wearing his sunglasses despite neither the weather nor the inside of the hotel requiring it. “I'll stay here.”

“Alright, see you later,” Phil shrugged, but Jack had already slammed the door shut, and the three of them got into the elevator.

Liz had been to Hamburg many times before, but exploring places with her friends was always exciting. Two advantages were that they didn't have to spend most of the time finding the places where they wanted to go and that she could show them some lesser known but not lesser fun spots.

In the evening, they went to a Thai restaurant and – more to be polite than because they actually wanted him to be here – asked Jack if he would come and have dinner with them, but he didn't open the message.

Back at the hotel, Antonio knocked on Jack's door while Liz and Phil were walking ahead to their room. “You good?”

“Yeah, was about to go out,” he groaned through the closed door before adding a quiet, “Fuck off already.”

“Sure thing,” the guitarist mumbled and followed his friends.

Liz was taking off her makeup in front of the mirror as Antonio came in. “Still as talkative as with me?” she asked, knowing he wasn't going to be any different around the boys. After all, he hated when people ‘took someone's side’, but hitting, manipulating and cheating on your girlfriend wasn't something you could not judge him for.

“He said he's going out now and… told me to fuck off,” he said, rolling his eyes and lighting a cigarette.

Liz walked out of the bathroom, putting her hair up in a ponytail. “Told you so. Let me take a drag,” she mumbled, taking Antonio's cigarette from his hand.

“Since when do you smoke?” He raised an eyebrow and lit another one for himself.

She sighed and shook her head. “I don't. It's just to calm down a bit. ‘Reclaiming’ it since the first cig I smoked was with Jack Dickhead and I can't let that be my association with smoking,” she added, doing a little dance.

There was a moment of silence as all three of them sat there, smoking with similar facial expressions. In her head, Liz cursed Jack for everything he had done. Antonio got anxious about the upcoming gig for the first time in years and whether or not Jack would appear since back in the car he hadn't known what they were talking about. Phil thought about the ongoing relationship issues Liz had been telling him about and how it had started to affect the cooperation in the band for some time now too.

“Do you think we should kick him out of the band?” the drummer suggested.

“Better sooner than later,” Liz murmured.

“I don't think we could find a replacement bassist on such short notice to kick him out right now,” Antonio noted. “But honestly, I'm not sure he will even show up. Remember when he was like ‘what gig’ when I asked if he's ready for the show this morning?”

Liz rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Oh yeah, what a cunt. I sure hope he’ll at least have the decency to show up, the question is if he's sober enough to perform… Wouldn't be the first time he gets on stage too high to play.”

“Tilburg?” Phil asked, nodding at the somewhat recent memory of Jack staggering on the stage, barely responsive, eyes at half-mast and playing the wrong notes or none at all. Having to subtly ask the roadie to turn down the bass more, feeling like fools for putting on a show with him and close to breaking off the gig anytime if it wasn't for the people who paid money to see them. Afterwards, Liz and Phil even went around to apologize for the shitshow in conversations with a few guests while Antonio tried to talk some sense into Jack backstage.

Antonio put his cigarette out in the ashtray and got up to grab a paper and pen. “Let's go over it objectively and make a list. He doesn't keep track of shows, he doesn't show up to rehearsals and sound checks even if we remind him prior.”

“He’s constantly strung out and unable to perform well, he doesn't put in enough effort to actually get further as a band,” Liz added. “He also hasn't been writing new material, neither with me nor by himself.”

“Oh yeah, we don't have everyday jobs, so we depend on making it as a professional band,” Phil agreed. “I don't know why he's been so lazy when he's the one who has even less than the rest of us. The times of being a famous band through drug excesses are over.”

“We also can't leave out the interpersonal problems. The way he's been talking to us recently and how he's been treating Liz especially… We can't work with someone who emotionally and physically abuses our bandmate,” Antonio remarked, looking at the bruise on Liz's cheek which was visible again now that she had taken her makeup off.

“Definitely,” Phil murmured. “I guess we can agree on what to do.”

Antonio sighed, counting the points on the list. “10 reasons is enough, don't you think? We'll talk to him after the gig, maybe our decision will be confirmed by then.”

The friends nodded and Liz reassured them with a small smile, “I’m sure we’ll find someone to replace him soon. We’ll just attend concerts in other countries like I did when I found you guys.”

[cinematicnomad]

i spent today at my friend’s wedding dress fitting and then we went to a korean spa and got naked for a couple hours ✌️

[dameronology]

love in the time of p.t.a meetings {marcus moreno} - 2/5

summary: your kid has taken a liking to marcus moreno - and frankly, so have you {series masterlist}

warnings: swearing, mentions of divorce & very brief mentions of his wife’s death 

i don’t normally update series this quickly but this was originally one imagine that reached about 11k words lmao so it’s all written, just being split up. i’ve also decided it’s gonna be 5 parts instead of 3, cos i reread the ending and realised i was not done by a longshot. enjoy!

- jazz

Mondays. You hated ‘em.

Everything just seemed so...amplified. The peace and relaxation of the weekend was over and everyone had to go back on the grind. The traffic always seemed worst, the clock seemed to tick backwards and you just wanted to be at home, in bed. After an incident involving the dog, a toaster and a small pan fire, you were already running twenty minutes late and you knew in your soul that your child’s shoes weren’t on the right feet. That, and also he was wearing a Chewbacca onesie to school. It had been a compromise. As in, he was refusing to go to school unless you let him wear the damn thing. It was a compromise. You’d lost. 

On the bright side, the past weekend had been the best you’d had in a long time. Jack had spent all of Saturday afternoon at the Heroics headquarters and he was so worn out, he’d slept through all of Sunday. Marcus Moreno must have a been a fucking wizard, because you’d been trying to tire the kid out for five years. You made a mental note to do something in return, though you sensed there was nothing on God’s green earth that could possibly amount to babysitting the world’s most exhausting child for six hours. You were allowed to say that, because Jack was your world’s most exhausting child and you wouldn’t have changed him for anything. 

‘New week, huh buddy?’ You glanced at Jack in your rear view mirror. He was sat on his booster seat, legs dangling back and forth and a power ranger action figure in his hand. ‘A fresh start.’

‘Can we listen to the song from Cars?’ Jack ignored your comment.

‘You gotta try and behave yourself this week. You’ve seen what happens to people who do follow the rules, right? They get to go work at the Heroics-’

‘- I wanna listen to the song from Cars!’

You wanted to have a deep conversation. Jack wanted to listen to Life Is A Highway. That was...actually, it was exactly how you’d expected that to go. It wasn’t that off of the time you were trying to explain your divorce to him and he’d interrupted you to demand that you put Toy Story on. 

‘Sure thing, kid.’ You rolled your eyes, reaching across to hand him on your phone. ‘D’you know how to spell it-’

Your sentence was cut off by the sound of guitars blaring from the speakers. At least he could work out Spotify.

By some miracle, you managed to make it the school with a few minutes to spare. Because most people had dropped their kids off earlier (see: on time), the lot was pretty empty. That meant you could once again dump your car without regard for the painted white lines -- who had time to park properly on a Monday morning? That was for people who had their shit together.

Leaping out the car, you almost cursed when you tripped over your heels. You didn’t have to wear them, but since you’d started working in a managerial role at your office, you figured it made you look a little more professional. And what was the harm in being a few inches taller? It made you feel powerful.

‘C’mon, J.’ You pulled open the back door, helping Jack leap out the car. 

‘You know, I’m starting to think you can’t park your car at all.’

‘Marcus!’ Jack practically flew out the car, his tiny body suddenly jolting with excitement. 

‘Morning, buddy.’ He replied; he then moved his brown eyes to gaze at you, offering a smile. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey, how you doing?��� You greeted him. ‘I don’t normally see you here in the mornings.’

‘Yeah, I normally drop Missy off at the front but it was one of those mornings, you know? She was taking a little more convincing than usual to go in.’

‘My kid is in a Wookiee onesie and backwards Thomas the Tank Engine shoes and you have the audacity to ask me if I know those mornings? I am those mornings.’ You replied.

Marcus chuckled. ‘I think it’s a look. I especially like the Lightning McQueen sunglasses.’

‘Do you have a super suit?’ Jack asked. ‘Can I try it on?’

‘C’mon, Jack. You’ve already managed to get a tour of the HQ.’ You ruffled his hair. ‘And we gotta get going to school.’

‘But I wanna ask more questions.’ He muttered. ‘I have over a hundred.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ You murmured under your breath. ‘But school is more important.’

‘I don’t wanna go anymore.’

‘I let you wear the onesie. That was our agreement, remember?’

‘All good superheroes have to get an education.’ Marcus reasoned. ‘And if you go in, maybe I can show you my suit at some point?’

'Okay!’ Jack grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist in a quick hug, before peering up at you with a toothy smile. ‘See ya later!’

He turned on his heel and ripped his backpack from your hand, suddenly speeding up the path and towards school. Had...had that just happened? For once in your life, had you not had to wrench him from the car and wrestle him through the school gates? Move aside, Harry Potter, because Marcus Moreno was the new wizard in town. You might have been a little jealous that he was so good with your son but at the same time, it made you like him even more. He was the first parent at the school that had leant into Jack’s wild tendencies. And, whilst you tried not to think too much about it, even his own dad had struggled to do that. It made your heart warm a little. 

‘You are seriously my favourite person.’ You chimed, leaning back against your car. 

‘Kids with character are way more fun than kids who are well-behaved.’ Marcus replied.

‘I spent forty-five minutes scraping string cheese out the USB port of my computer yesterday, but sure.’ 

He chuckled. ‘No, I’m serious. I don’t encourage Missy to misbehave but she does get herself into some situations. I choose to see it as a testament to her intelligence rather than disobedience.’

‘I refuse to believe for a second that Missy ever misbehaves.’ You shot back back. ‘She seems so well-behaved.’

‘What you see in the parking lot is not a reflection of our whole lives.’ He reminded you.

‘Right, because despite appearances, I’m actually a very put together parent.’ You snorted. ‘But I get what you mean.’

‘I gotta get to work now, but it was good to see you.’ Marcus pulled his car keys out his pocket. ‘I was serious about that suit thing, by the way. He saw my katanas on Saturday.’

‘Katanas?’ You spluttered. ‘My kid managed to start a fire last week out of nothing and you want to give him katanas?!’

‘Maybe I can show you how to use them.’ He flashed you a smile. ‘And then you can pass on the knowledge.’ 

‘That’s probably an even worse idea.’ You shook your head with a laugh, pulling open your car door. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘You as well. Have a good day, pretty lady.’

--

Did you stop thinking about your exchange at any point during the day? Absolutely not. In fact, you’d already written an email to the local deed poll office to change your legal name to Pretty Lady. 

No, but in all seriousness, you’d been a little giddy about it. Had he been flirting? That didn’t seem like a long shot. You got on well, you’d hung out a bit over the weekend and not to toot your own horn, but you were by no means bad looking. Tired and a little frazzled, sometimes? Yeah. But anyone would have been lucky to have you and you were doing a better job at recognising that, especially since your divorce. 

You were almost ecstatic when it got to 4PM and you hadn’t received a single call from Jack’s teachers. That meant that he had behaved, and what Marcus had said had worked. Because you worked past his finishing time, he usually went to the after-school club till you could come to collect him - it had been a lifesaver, especially since you couldn’t always leave early. He usually came home with some kind of weird arts and crafts. Last week, it had been an unidentifiable item made of dried macaroni and glitter. He’d placed it pridefully on the old fireplace in your lounge. 

After saying goodbye to your co-workers, you headed out the building. Your office was right in the city centre and not too far out from the school. It was a nice place to be; your lunch hour, when you could head out to a street cart and eat your food in the local park, was usually the highlight of your day. It was when you could exist just as you. When you were at work, you were in charge on your entire department. When you were home, you were a parent 24/7. That time to yourself was vital.

As you were heading to your car, your phone began to ring. Your heart almost jumped out your chest when you saw Marcus’ name - he hadn’t called you before, only texted to sort out the previous weekend’s plans with Jack. You quickly organised yourself (he couldn’t see you, dumb ass) and cleared your throat.

‘Hey, everything alright?’ You brightly greeted him.

‘Hey! Are you out of work now?’

‘Yeah, I’m literally just leaving. What’s up?’

‘Look, I hate to do this but I’ve had an emergency at work - superhero related, you don’t wanna know - and I’m not gonna be out for hours.’ Marcus sounded stressed. Yeah, I feel that you thought. ‘Would you be able to pick up Missy and possibly have her for a few hours? If not, that’s totally-’

‘- I’d be glad too!’ You interrupted him. ‘I owe you one anyways for the weekend. And this morning, actually.’

‘You don’t owe me anything.’ He sounded surprised that you’d even imply it. ‘But I will definitely owe you for having Missy.’

‘Hey, it’s cool!’ You insisted. ‘Do you want me to drop her off at yours later?’

‘I can come and collect her if you text me your address?’

‘Perfect.’ You smiled. ‘I’ll see you later then?’

‘You’re a lifesaver.’ Marcus said. ‘I’ll text Missy to let her know to find your car instead of mine. I would ask for your plate number, but your car is...’

‘...bright red, covered in dents and hard to miss?’ You finished his sentence.

‘Exactly.’

You’d been in the same situation before; pulled between work and parenting, with Jack stuck at school and an important meeting that felt like it was never ending. It was hard to get a sitter on such short notice - or afford one, sometimes - and it was just another one of the million, stressful situations that single parenting could get you into. If you could help Marcus even a little bit, of course you were going to. You knew he’d do the same for you. Heck, he had done the same for you.

Jack and Missy were both chatty on the way home. Given that she was a little older than him, her conversational skills were strikingly better. It was nice to ask someone about their day and not get where are my Cheetos? as an answer. From what you gathered, she hated science class, enjoyed gym, and her favourite subject was lunch. That didn’t come as a surprise to you - her dad was a literal superhero and probably encouraged physical activity.

(You’d seen his arms, okay? They were more than enough to go on. I digress).

The only thing that made you wish you’d had a little more notice on having her for the evening was the state of your apartment. The place wasn’t bad; you’d lived there for the better part of eight years, and it was crammed with soft furniture and millions of blankets, as well as photos of you and Jack and his questionable art projects. It was just that you hadn’t done the dishes that morning, there was a mountain of shoes by the door and the pancakes from the previous night were still stuck on the roof.

Missy barely blinked an eye; the minute she saw your dog, she’d abandoned her bag and was playing with him. 

‘Hey buddy!’ She grinned. ‘What’s he called?’

‘That’s Oppy.’ You replied, hanging your jacket up. She didn’t need to know that it was short for Optimus Prime. No guesses on whose idea that had been. 

‘He’s so cute!’ Missy continued. ‘I’ve been asking dad for a dog for ages but he won’t budge.’

For some reason, that surprised you a little. Marcus might have been the leader of a super-hero team and a public figure, but you could tell he would do anything for his daughter. You knew because it was the same for you with Jack. He might have ruled your whole life but you would have hung the damn stars in the sky for him if he asked 

‘They’re a lot of work.’ You reasoned. ‘I have to wake up every morning at 6AM to make sure he gets a walk. Then there’s the matter of-’

‘- mum! Optimus Prime pooped in the bathroom!’

‘The matter of that.’ You murmured under your breath.

The rest of the evening went pretty smoothly. You fed the kids some leftover takeaway and between the dog and Netflix, they were easily entertained. Jack seemed to take a liking to Missy, which was good because it meant he wanted to sit with her the entire time instead of bouncing off the walls. She had the same patience as her dad, especially when he asked her a million questions about superheroes. It took her twenty minutes to convince him that Batman wasn’t her uncle, and a further fifteen to make him believe that she hadn’t met Captain America. 

Jack had asked you a few times about whether or not he would get siblings. Of course, it would be different to any interactions with Missy because he would have been the oldest, but it did get you thinking. You were finally in a place where you were moving past your former relationship and healing from the wounds. Time wasn’t much of an issue either - you’d had Jack when you were young and barely out of college. You couldn’t possibly imagine having any more kids right now, not when it was just the two of you, but in the future? You’d never rule out meeting somebody new. If anything, you were hopeful. Your first relationship had been your only one, and it had ended badly. You wanted to experience love for what it actually was, and not what you thought it was supposed to be. 

Not long after 7PM, there was a knock on your door. By that point, both Missy and Jack had passed out on the sofa with Star Wars playing quietly in the background. It had been her idea to watch it - she had good taste. Marcus had clearly done a good job.

‘Hey!’ You greeted him as you pulled open the front door. ‘Come in quick, it’s fucking freezing out there.’

‘Thank you.’ Marcus came inside, dusting a few snow flakes out his hair. ‘Seriously, I can’t say it enough-’

‘- it’s fine!’ You shook your head, offering him a smile. ‘Missy’s been great. She’s really chatty and it was nice to have a coherent conversation with someone that isn’t about Paw Patrol. But was everything at the office okay?’

He was quiet for a minute. ‘Yeah. We uh, we lost someone. A hero.’

‘Shit, man. I’m sorry.’ Your voice fell quiet. ‘You wanna come in? You look like you could probably take a moment.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course! Missy and Jack are both asleep on the couch anyways.’ You pointed through to the living room. Marcus leant over to have a look, smiling slightly at the sight. 

‘Thank you. I’d appreciate that.’

He took a seat at the kitchen counter. Your old bar stools were a little old and wobbly, but Marcus didn’t seem to notice. If anything, he admired the place. It was cluttered as hell and filled with useless, old items - cook books you didn’t use, random magnets, assorted toys - but it was nice. His house always felt a little cold and clinical. He’d moved a lot over the course of Missy’s life and now that he was retired from the field, he’d sworn to her that their current house was going to be permanent. Whether or not it felt like home was another question entirely. 

‘I would offer you a drink but all I have is..’ you paused, opening the fridge. ‘Nesquik, vodka or apple juice.’

‘You know what? A Nesquik doesn’t sound too bad.’

‘I like your thinking, Moreno.’

After quickly fixing up the two drinks, you slid into the seat beside him and handed him one. You had never in a million years imagined a situation where Marcus Moreno would be in your kitchen drinking chocolate milk, but here we were. It had clearly been a long day for him and you had enough of those to last a lifetime, so you knew how it felt. Coming home after a day that had beat your ass into the ground and having to put on a brave face for your kids was difficult at best. 

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ You gently asked.

‘Yeah, I’ll be okay - it just always fucks me up a bit.’ Marcus murmured quietly. ‘Hits a little too close to home.’

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew that you knew what had happened to his wife. You knew why he’d retired, and why he and Missy had moved away from their original city six years ago.

‘Sorry, that was too deep-’

‘- it wasn’t!’ You quickly cut him off. ‘I’ve had random women come up to me at pick up time and say they’re sorry to hear about my divorce. People I don’t even know. So really, after that, nothing is too much.’ 

He smiled slightly. ‘They always say they’re sorry but why would you bring up a subject if you have to apologise for it?’

‘Exactly!’ You replied. ‘Especially when I’ve moved on. It’s been a year.’

‘It’s the same with me. Missy and I miss her everyday but we don’t mope about it. We just...we look back with fondness on the good memories we have. You can’t move forward if you’re stuck in the past, no matter how much it sucks.’

‘That’s...that’s wise.’ You blinked in surprise. ‘S’pose that means I should take down the dartboard I have with my ex’s face on.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he seems like he should have more than a dart board.’ Marcus snorted - then he froze. ‘Wait, not that I’ve heard stuff, I mean...I don’t listen-’

‘- Marcus!’ You whacked his arm. ‘It’s fine. One of the other kid’s mums started telling me about the terrible divorce someone was going through but she realised she was gossiping to the one who was going through it.’

‘I don’t know how much of what I’ve been told is true, but it sounds like it was bad.’ His hand hovered over where yours was rested on the counter. 

‘The rumours pretty much get the gist of it.’ You replied. ‘But we were talking about your thing, so I don’t wanna take away from that.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ He finally moved his hand, fingers gently curling underneath yours to intertwine them. ‘If even half of the whispers are true, he sounds like an asshole. You and Jack both deserve better than that.’

Whatever people had said, it had sort of covered the gist of it. You’d married too young and had a kid too young - your ex had been a terrible husband and an even worst husband. He’d chastised Jack for being...well, being Jack. He’d stay out late with his friends, spend money on things neither of you needed and tried to make you take the blame for it all. After giving him a few too many chances, you’d finally reached breaking point and kicked him out. Filing for divorce and taking on being a single parent was single-handedly the hardest and bravest thing you’d ever had to do. In a way, you were glad you’d done it when Jack was still so young - he didn’t really understand any of it, even when you’d try to explain it in child friendly terms.

‘I think people judge me for it a little sometimes.’ You confessed. ‘They see me struggling but they know I made the choice to separate from him, like I brought it all on myself.’

‘That’s bullshit.’ Marcus plainly stated. ‘Parenthood isn’t a dependent thing based on whether or not you’re still married to the other parent. It’s unconditional and permanent.’

‘I should tell him that, but I also don’t want him back in our lives.’

‘I know it’s none of my business, but he doesn’t deserve Jack. He’s one of the best and brightest kids I’ve ever met.’

‘Thank you. I’m glad he doesn’t seem like a complete lunatic.’

‘He doesn’t deserve you either.’ Marcus continued. ‘Again, I might be out of place saying this but you are...you’re amazing. I was a wreck when I was suddenly on my own and you’re still holding everything together and working your ass off.’ 

‘You’ve noticed?’ You quirked an eyebrow.

‘Yeah, in passing.’ He admitted. ‘I remember I once saw you carrying three separate science projects at once and then Carol made a passing comment that you were on your own and...I just kinda admired you from afar.’

‘You, Marcus Moreno, admired me?’ You blinked at him in disbelief. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘I wish I’d had my shit together half as much as you did when I lost Missy’s mum.’ 

‘But the difference is you didn’t have a choice in your situation. I chose to boot his dad out-’

‘- you gotta stop discrediting yourself.’ He shook his head. ‘And stop blaming yourself. You did what was right for your kid and that is the most admirable thing of all.’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so.’

The conversation slowly drizzled away, leaving you two to just look at each other. It was hard to tear yourself away from his brown eyes - there was a lot going on behind them. Fear, pain, anguish, admiration. He was one of the most mind-blowingly impressive people you’d ever met; single dad, superhero, electric car owner. He probably didn’t have a mortgage too and that was kinda hot. You were none of those things and yet, here he was, with you, managing to connect on a level that you never had with anyone. Both of your situations were tough, but they’d brought you together. 

Marcus Moreno was pretty fucking fearless (came with the job, you figured), and he wasn’t afraid to make the first move. He slowly inched his head forward and in return, you gravitated towards him. Your lips met halfway in a soft kiss, his hands moving to firmly hold your waist as he pulled you closer.

You almost stumbled out your chair with the movement, but his grip on your hips meant you didn’t slip. Instead, he placed you up on the counter, standing up as he did. It took you a moment to adjust to the position, but with your legs resting on either side of his, you could reach forward and lean on him. You had one hand tangled in his hair and the other on the back of his neck -  you’d surprised yourself with that. It had been months since you’d kissed anyone, but you weren’t as rusty as you thought. 

‘Oh my god, is the superhero gonna be my new dad?!’

Marcus suddenly jumped backwards at the sound of Jack’s voice. He was stood in the doorway, post-nap hair covered by a lopsided Chewbacca hood. His eyes were like dinner plates, even though he was grinning from ear to ear. 

‘Uh...’ you glanced between him and Marcus. ‘We were just...we were...’

‘I had something in my eye.’

‘He had something in his eye.’ You quickly agreed. ‘But now it’s out, so Marcus is gonna go home.’

He knew you didn’t mean it rudely - it was more of a desperation thing. The longer he stayed, the more questions Jack would come out with. Missy could have overheard too and that would have been twice as much to explain. So really, the sooner he got out, the better.

‘Yeah. I’ll uh, I’ll grab Missy.’ Marcus said, scratching the back of his head. ‘Thank you again for looking after her.’

‘You don’t need to keep thanking me.’ You shot back. 

He disappeared into the living room for a moment, reemerging with a sleeping Missy in his arms a moment later. Your eyes met again, and he gave you a soft smile.

‘I’ll call you.’

‘Yeah, sure.’  You nodded. ‘See you, Marcus.’

--

True to character, the next hour was spent being pelted with questions from your over-curious son. He didn’t shut up once when you were bathing him and he got even louder when you were reading him his best time story. On the bright side, you’d managed to get him to change out of his slightly manky Wookiee onesie and into a clean Buzz Lightyear one. Normally, you would have argued that he couldn’t live in pyjamas, but if it kept him quiet? It was a price you were willing to pay. 

‘Night, kiddo.’ You pressed a kiss to his forehead, switching on his nightlight. ‘Remember our deal, yeah? If I buy you a Happy Meal tomorrow, you won’t mention what you saw to any of your friends?’

‘You said library was bad.’

‘No, it’s bribery.’ You corrected him. ‘And do as I say, not as I do.’

‘Sounds bad, but okay.’ He sleepily murmured. ‘Night.’

‘Night.’ You stood up, flicking out his bedroom lights.

‘Wait, mum!’ Jack suddenly sat up, as though he’d remembered something. ‘You never said no.’

‘No to what, buddy?’

‘When I asked if the superhero was my new dad.’

Well, fuck. 

taglist: @naivara-duneimith @1-2-3-4-5metalfingers @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @lyanna-the-giantsbane @phoenixhalliwell @crazycookiecrumbles​ @bitchin-beskar​ @comphersjost​ {message me to be added!}

[prentissinred]

Life in Pink

Rated T (mild suggestive content) Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2.5k AO3

Hi friends! Guess what? This past weekend marked one year since I posted my first story! How crazy is that?!

I’m so utterly grateful to this community for being such a bright spot in a difficult year. To everyone who’s taken the time to read something I’ve written, thank you for being so kind and supportive. It means more to me than I can express in words. To the brilliant, lovely, talented people I now get to call my friends, I love you all so very much.

To commemorate the occasion, I wrote a little something. This is set in the world of The Wonder of You, which was the first story I’ve ever written – but you don't need to have read that to understand this :)

I hope you like it <3

--

“I mean it, JJ. Whatever happens, do not call us.”

“Yes, Emily. For the hundredth time, I promise not to call you.”

Aaron slipped his free hand into his wife’s and squeezed. “Sweetheart, it’ll be fine. Strauss knows we’re away, and our backlog is miraculously clear. We’ll be okay.”

He returned to packing up his things on his desk while Emily huffed and quietly muttered something unflattering about their superior under her breath. JJ chuckled and embraced her friend. “Go. Have a fabulous time and make us all incredibly jealous. We’ll see you in a week.”

After another round of goodbyes and poorly-veiled suggestive comments from Morgan and Dave, Aaron and Emily were in their car and on their way to Dulles, suitcases already packed and in the trunk.

It had been her idea. A holiday in Greece to commemorate their first wedding anniversary. There hadn’t been time to plan a honeymoon, their wedding in Dave’s backyard coming together with relative expediency. They had spent the weekend after the ceremony in a hotel, indulging in champagne and room service for 48 hours before returning to work the following Monday.

Neither of them thought much of it after that, swept up in both work and newlywed life. They moved into a new home, a classic Colonial in Arlington with extra bedrooms and a white wrap-around porch, and adopted a dog at Jack’s insistence.

And before either of them had realized it, it had been a year. Aaron had remembered the upcoming date over Saturday breakfast as he cut bacon into little pieces for Jack, which were then promptly fed to Boo who waited patiently under the table next to Jack’s chair. Emily and Aaron shared a look of bemused surprise as they came to the realization that neither of them had planned anything to celebrate the occasion.

“We could take a trip,” Emily suggested casually. “We haven’t been away before, just the two of us.”

He’d been doubtful at first, unsure if they could really manage to get the time away with such short notice. But it was clear how enthused Emily was by the prospect, though she hid it well under masked nonchalance. Though she always insisted she was more than happy to spend her time at home, appreciative of the roots they had cultivated after all the travel and displacement of her past, Aaron knew there was still a part of her that missed that heady thrill of exploring an unfamiliar place for the first time. And truthfully, he could think of little else that he would enjoy more than having his wife all to himself for a few days.

So they settled on Greece, a place new to them both, and, with some luck, managed to clear a full week on both of their calendars.

They had nearly reached the parking lot at Dulles — having already checked in with Jessica, Jack and Boo over the phone — when Emily’s phone pinged with a text message from JJ, “I’m so sorry.”

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath.

Before Aaron could question her, his phone rang, Chief Strauss’s number on the front screen. Panic flashed across both their faces before he reluctantly answered. Emily could hear brief snippets of the conversation as the pit in her stomach steadily widened.

“...apologize...New York...fourth suicide bomber in three weeks...escalating...need everyone…”

Once he hung up the phone, Aaron took the next exit off the highway, pulling up to the curb once it was safe to do so. They both sat in silence for an extended minute, disappointment heavy in the air. Finally, Emily attempted to break the tension, “Aren’t you glad I convinced you to get the refundable tickets?”

Aaron let out a weak, sad chuckle and leaned over the center console to kiss her, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” before starting the car up again to head to the airstrip.

When they walked onto the plane, the team was uncharacteristically silent, looking on at their boss and colleague with poorly concealed apology, as though they were personally at fault for this unfortunate turn of events.

It took five days for the case to come to an end, the team finding the next bomber with minutes to spare, leading them to the ringleader of the group orchestrating the attacks. The date of their anniversary came and went, with nothing to mark the day except a quickie in the shower before they left their shared room. Objectively, both Aaron and Emily knew they had made the right decision, compulsory or not. Lives were saved, and the team functioned at their best when they were a complete set.

Still, while Aaron wrapped things up at the precinct after sending Emily back to the hotel, he couldn’t help but feel sorry that the first year of his marriage had passed in such a benign manner. As he drove back to the hotel, watching people shuffle and hustle about their weekend, an inkling of a plan formed and he picked up the phone to call JJ.

He found Emily in their room, her back turned to him as she hunched over the bed in the final stages of packing. He leaned against the wall, taking a moment to admire her before asking, "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She jumped a little, the close of the door too quiet for her to hear him walk in, then raised a brow at him. "Packing? Don't we have to be at the airport in an hour?"

"Change of plans." Aaron sauntered up to his wife, pulling her in by the waist so he could kiss her. "We're leaving tomorrow."

“Since when?”

"Since I decided that you and I deserve a night to ourselves." He chuckled softly at her confused expression, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry we couldn't get our time away. I thought we could spend the night out here instead. Celebrate the best year of my life with my beautiful wife."

She softened in his arms, molding herself to him as she pushed up on her toes and threaded her hands in his hair, kissing him breathless. “What about everyone else?” she asked, mouthing along his jaw, nosing the length of his neck.

The blood promptly rushed south from his head, a familiar occurrence anytime Emily’s hands ran over him as they were doing now. He swallowed, breathing in deeply to ensure he retained some semblance of control. "I told them to leave tonight; we could fly on our own tomorrow. But they offered to stay the night.”

She laughed against his throat, hot and ticklish on his skin, feeling almost giddy by this unforeseen development, “Okay then.” The hands on her hips tightened as she began kissing down to his chest, and she grinned up at him, lightly palming the front of his black slacks. “Are you sure you want to go out? We could just lock ourselves in here for the night.”

He narrowed his eyes, playfully pinching her cheek, “Cheeky, Mrs. Hotchner. But I have a plan and, tempting as you are, you will not sway me from it.” Knowing her go-bag always contained a nicer dress in case their work called for it, he added, “Now, get dressed,” swatting her ass lightly for good measure.

“Aaron, it’s Saturday night in New York City. You realize we’re not getting in anywhere halfway decent,” Emily pointed out while she unbuttoned her blouse.

“Ye of little faith, my dear wife. I told you, I have a plan.” Aaron also rid himself of his jacket and tie, replacing his shirt with a fresh white button-down and rolling up the sleeves. He went to clean himself up in the bathroom, and when he returned, he found his magnificent wife attempting to zip up a one-shoulder red dress. The same dress he’d slid off her shoulders in his bedroom after dinner on their first date. “Is that…”

"Would you believe I didn't plan this?" she grinned, turning her back to him. "Help me?"

Instead of doing as she asked, Aaron nudged the zipper, skating a knuckle up the length of her bare back and planting a kiss at the top of her spine.

“Aaron..." she breathed, tilting her head back against his, "if you don't cut that out, we're not leaving this room." He groaned into her neck, reluctantly admitting she was right, finally zipping her up and smoothing her hair back over her shoulder.

When they emerged outside their hotel ten minutes later onto the bustling streets of Midtown Manhattan, they walked the few blocks to Grand Central Station, just barely catching the subway headed downtown. Despite her initial doubts, Emily’s smile hadn’t left her, cheeks flushed with excitement.

Aaron led her by hand out of the subway when they reached their destination, climbing the stairs onto the southwest corner of Washington Square Park. The air was hot and muggy, New York in August, even as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon. Music filtered through from the park, mixing with the din of the crowds enjoying the first stage of their evening.

“Do I get to know what we’re doing now?”

“Not yet. Come on, this way.”

They crossed the street, turned the corner, and Aaron finally stopped outside a red awning.

“Pizza?” Emily looked up at him, eyes wide with surprise as she took in the pizzeria.

“Or hot dogs, or Indian, or Greek, Italian, Vietnamese...We can go anywhere you want in the world in the next 10 blocks.”

She beamed up at him, catching onto his plan, and her grin was infectious. “Can we do them all?”

He laughed, “Lead the way.”

They started with pizza at Joe’s — a pepperoni slice for him and a Sicilian slice for her. Then a stuffed pita filled to the brim with fresh falafel, tomatoes, and hummus. A chicken tikka kati roll. And finally a shared plate of chicken and rice drizzled in white sauce from the halal food cart next to the park.

Their hands never strayed far from the other, the blissful anonymity of the city prompting more affectionate displays from both of them. Aaron stood behind her, hands on her hips or around her waist, as they waited in line. Emily ran her fingers through his hair as they sat on barstools, so smushed together from the crowd that she was practically sitting in his lap. They stood on the sidewalk waiting for their food to be prepared, their arms wrapped around each other and their lips moving together in languid kisses as if they had all the time in the world. To any stranger who could be bothered to look their way, they looked like any other couple smitten and blissfully in love, hiding every scar, hurdle, and hardship they had overcome to reach this point. Two figures floating amongst a sea of millions.

“I’m so full,” Emily moaned, clutching her stomach dramatically as they wandered hand-in-hand down Houston St. “I think you’ve killed me.”

“Not yet, sweetheart. We haven’t gotten to dessert.”

Two spoons and one cup of salted chocolate ice cream later, they made it back to the park, still lively as if the night had only just started. The marble archway was lit up, the Empire State Building in the distance peeking through the gap. People sat around the edge of the fountain, dipping their feet into the cool water.

Aaron and Emily walked through the students and artists and skateboarders and tourists, dipping intermittently into their shared dessert absorbing the infectious energy. They reached the other end of the park, stopping for a moment to watch a street performer, and turned down a new street, neither of them wanting the evening to come to an end.

The unmistakable sound of a piano floated out of a bar as two patrons exited, catching Emily by surprise as they walked past. She jerked to a stop, captivated, then tugged Aaron's hand to the door. He followed her lead, descending down a narrow flight of stairs that led into a darkened lounge. Tufted couches and armchairs in jewel-toned velvets lined the walls, dimly lit by rounded art deco sconces. Two bartenders seamlessly crafted elegant cocktails behind a lavish bar that took up the back wall. And in the center, a jazz quartet illuminated by a spotlight as couples swayed around them on a dance floor. Even in the dark, Aaron could see the way Emily's eyes lit up, entranced by this unexpected discovery, and he discreetly asked a waitress if they could be seated.

They nestled into the corner of an empty couch, Aaron's hand resting on Emily's knee as they both sipped their respective cocktails. Truthfully, he spent very little time watching the band, his eyes trained on his wife. He took in every secret smile, every small part of her lips when the melody soared to a peak. She was breathtaking, and she was his, and not for the first time in his life did he wonder how he had ever gotten quite so lucky.

The song shifted into something he recognized, a string of notes from the saxophone eliciting an audible gasp from Emily. He grasped her hand and tugged her up from the chair, smiling at the delight on her face. He pulled her in close, one hand low on her back, his cheek resting against hers, as they began to gently shift amongst the other couples.

After a minute, Emily’s voice came in whispers in his ear, her tongue curling beautifully over the French he couldn’t understand.

Quand il me prend dans ses bras Qu'il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose

Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça m'fait quelque chose

Il est entré dans mon cœur Une part de bonheur Dont je connais la cause C'est lui pour moi, moi pour lui dans la vie Il me l'a dit, l'a juré, pour la vie

She pulled back in his arms, her gaze locking on his. A droplet tipped over her lash and onto her cheek. Her love for the man who held her — her husband, hers — bubbled and popped and diffused in her chest, filling her until she felt like she was floating. Aaron brought his hand up from her waist to her cheek, his thumb wiping away the errant drop on her skin with enough tenderness and adoration to warrant a fresh bout of tears.

Emily shakily rose to press her lips to his, tightening her hold of him, just as the song trailed to its conclusion. Applause erupted, but at that moment, the world around them didn’t exist.

“I love you, Aaron Hotchner.”

“And I love you.”

--

Song: La Vie en Rose by Edith Piaf

Translation (thank you Google):

When he holds me in his arms He speaks to me softly I see life through rose-colored glasses

He speaks words of love to me Everyday words And that does something to me

He has entered into my heart A piece of happiness The cause of which I know It’s only him for me, and me for him, for life He said that to me, swore it forever

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Haven Gray

CW: Abducted whumpee, description of missing person, captivity, BBU/WRU

Where Is Haven Gray?

r/FindTheMissing

•Posted by u/bananasare2appealing

3 days ago

In the summer of 20XX, 21-year-old Haven Gray texted family and friends to let them know a second job interview they’d just finished had gone well, and they expected to be offered the job.

They made plans to have dinner with a couple of friends to celebrate, but never showed up to the restaurant. They were reported missing by their parents later that night and have never been seen again.

Hey, everyone, this is my first attempt at a post like this, so I hope you’ll go easy on me! Haven Gray is a kind of a personal case to me, I went to the same high school a few years behind them and there was still a lot of talk about what could have happened and like, their picture is in a memorial frame in the hallway by the principal’s office. It’s just a really important case to me and I hope they figure out what happened to Haven one day.

Haven Gray was the oldest of three children born to Matthew and Maria Gray in the small town of Trenton, Indiana. Tall, with long wavy red hair and gray eyes, they stood out in a crowd in more ways than one.

Haven set records for their high school’s cross-country track team, played well on the school basketball team, and maintained a 3.5 GPA alongside plenty of extracurriculars and an active social life.

They then spent two years attending Trenton Community College, looking to finish out their degree at Indiana State University and go into the human resources field. They kept up a part-time job on the side, but during the summer before they would move to ISU, they decided to look for full-time work to help save up some money.

Haven’s mother Maria was interviewed after their disappearance by local news station INNW as saying that Haven was very excited about finishing up their degree and moving into their first real apartment. 

Haven had seen an ad on a job-hunting website for a receptionist for a temp agency that specialized in placing HR professionals in nearby companies. Seeing a way to get some relevant experience before they finished up their degree, they applied and were contacted for a job interview.

Here’s where things get just a little weird, before they get even weirder.

Haven texted a photo of the strip mall where the job interview was, and noted that the company was not located in a well-maintained place, which made Haven very nervous. The signage also seemed brand new, which conflicted with information on the company website suggesting they’d been in that location for years. 

They waited in their car and called the company phone. Only when someone came out to greet them did Haven go inside for the interview. 

The first interview went smoothly, and Haven excitedly called their friends and family to say a second interview was already scheduled with the owner of the small company. It turned out, they explained, that the creepy location was no longer the company’s main location, and their second interview would be at a different address in a much nicer part of town.

They did not give any explanation, if any was given to them, about the reason for brand new signage if the business was in the process of leaving that address. On the day of the second interview, one week later, Haven’s mother saw them leaving in a deep blue top with satin detailing at the neck and gray slacks. 

They exchanged goodbyes, and Haven reminded their mother they would be meeting friends tonight, either to celebrate a good interview or commiserate over a bad one.

“My comfort,” Maria Gray said in her interview with INNW, “is that I said goodbye and I love you. I have that, at least. So many don’t get that final chance. I just wish I had known it was the last time. I would have looked at them a little longer.”

From here, Haven is seen on camera at their ‘regular’ Starbucks a few moments later, ordering a large (venti) iced latte. An automatic speed-checker camera next to the highway captured their car with license plate clearly visible driving in the direction of the interstate a few minutes later.

Two hours after this sighting, they called a friend, Natalie Morales, to tell her that the interview had gone well and they believed they would be offered the job. Dinner that night, Haven said, would definitely be a celebration. 

They texted three other friends, Maria, and Matthew - as well as a younger sibling. These are the last direct communications anyone had with Haven Gray.

“They didn’t sound scared,” Natalie said in her own interview with True Crime Podcast Now You See Them, Now You Don’t. "Not at all. I’ve thought about it over and over again, trying to ask myself, was there fear there? Had something already happened? And I just don’t think so. I think whatever happened, happened after they hung up the phone. They were excited, said the pay rate was way more than they expected for a receptionist job. The only thing is that they said the guy who interviewed them kind of... gave them the, you know. Made the hair on their arms stand up. You know what I mean? And I thought of that first, when they never... but he has an alibi.”

The man in question is Ladd Prescott, the stated owner of the temp agency Haven applied to. Ladd gave multiple interviews, off-camera and to law enforcement, but he did not leave the office and is seen on in-office security cameras and he is not considered a person of interest in the case.

The final image of Haven’s whereabouts that day comes from the CCTV camera at an ATM for Haven’s bank one hour after the final text message sent to their father Matthew. They are seen pulling up in their car to the drive-thru ATM, where they withdrew $300. 

Notable about this footage is three things:

1. Haven appears to look directly at the camera twice, deliberately holding their gaze maybe

2. Their hair, carefully styled when they left for the interview according to Maria, is noticeably in disarray, and they do not appear to be wearing the same shirt they had on when they left (the footage is super grainy, so this is hard to tell exactly, but if you check here you can see that they appear to be wearing a white t-shirt). 

3. A shadow just behind them moves independently of Haven, gestures a few times, and it appears - and police believe - that someone else is in the car with Haven Gray directing their movements.

Haven never arrived at the restaurant. When their friends attempted to contact them, the phone went directly to voicemail. This was very out of the ordinary for Haven, so friends called Maria and Matthew, who became immediately worried and contacted the police.

Haven Gray officially was listed as a missing person the next day.

Four days later, their car - with IDs, debit and credit card, a book they were reading, and their resume and list of questions from the interview all inside - was located at a nearby riverfront, abandoned. The only thing missing was the $300 in cash Haven had taken out of the ATM, and Haven themself. 

A witness came forward later stating they had seen a man with ashy blond hair who appeared to be in his 40′s or 50′s smoking next to the car the day Haven was last seen. This man has never come forward or been located and his connection to Haven’s disappearance, if any, is unknown.

Law enforcement believes that Haven was abducted within half an hour of finishing their interview by someone who forced their way into the car, and likely directed to the ATM to take cash out and then met someone else or moved into a different car after parking Haven’s at the riverfront. 

Weirdly, the riverfront was checked the day after Haven was declared missing, which suggests someone came back and moved the car after the witness saw the smoking man, then moved it back into place after the initial search of the area was over with.

Cell towers picked up pings from Haven’s phone for four hours afterward, heading due east. The nearest big city would have been Cincinnati, so it’s possible the abductor headed that direction. If they did, though, they took a winding route and Haven’s phone was turned off or discarded before reaching the city. 

Look, I know this is a big conspiracy theory and there’s absolutely no proof, but I think Haven was abducted by WRU. 

Why?

Three weeks prior to their disappearance, Haven attended a bar’s “singles night”. They mentioned to friends later that they connected with a man who worked for WRU as a handler, but then decided they couldn’t handle the reality of what he did and cut off contact before they could have their first real date.

(The handler in question has been cleared during the investigation, but I still have my suspicions)

I know this seems like the flimsiest reason, but Haven’s friends all say that the man was very upset by Haven’s discomfort with his job, tried to keep contacting them for days. I think the job interview is a red herring and it’s this handler guy who is behind it somehow - maybe him, or his friends.

Also, there’s a WRU Training Facility in Cincinnati, Ohio, only a few hours away... and law enforcement never even tried to get a warrant to search there. Easy way to get rid of someone if you did something to them, right?

(I know, I know, WRU has standards and does checks and all that, but seriously. Think about it.)

A year later, improbably, a farmer working to mow the ditch next to his fields found Haven’s cell phone in a ziploc inside a second plastic bag. The phone had been wiped to factory settings and no new useful information was found.

So, where is Haven Gray? 

Were they murdered? Abducted? Will we find their body in a field one day? Were they just dumped in the river next to their abandoned car? Are they part of the WRU system now? No one seems to know, and reported sightings of them in Los Angeles, New York City, and even one mention from Sydney, Australia, seem hard to believe.

Haven’s mother Maria says they have no plans to declare Haven legally dead, and they intend to keep looking “as long as it takes”.

What Are Your Thoughts?

-

WRU NEW ACQUISITION INTAKE FORM FACILITY 005

SUBJECT: 549065

DATE OF ACQUISITION: 06.06.20XX

TIME OF ACQUISITION: 1:45 PM

LOCATION ASSIGNED: FACILITY 005, CINCINNATI, OHIO

PREVIOUS ALIAS: Haven Finley Gray

AGE: 21

DATE OF BIRTH: 07.19.20XX

HAIR: Red

EYES: Gray

HEIGHT: 6′0″

WEIGHT: 153 lbs 

SEXUALITY: Pansexual 

DESIGNATION: Romantic

KNOWN SKILLS: Subject in school for business-related major, excellent with typing, record-keeping, work with Excel spreadsheets, etc. Subject reports regular workouts primarily consisting of long-distance cardio. Subject refused to provide details on sex life but is known to have been active in the dating scene of local area. Subject is known to be gregarious and social.

HOBBIES: Subject mentioned reading as a hobby, with primary interest in fantasy and science fiction. Three books located in subject’s car at time of acquisition. 

KNOWN CONCERNS: Subject is showing some irregularities in heartrate, likely due to fear. No other known concerns. 

KNOWN IMMEDIATE FAMILY: Matthew and Maria Gray, both living, location Trenton, Indiana. Grandparents are deceased.

SIBLINGS: Two younger siblings: Mark, brother, two years younger, and Penny, sister, four years younger. 

METHOD OF ACQUISITION: Involuntary. 

ACQUISITION DETAILS: Access to subject provided by local business. Subject was apprehended without incident by Handler Benjamin Ralford. Subject was given an injection of sedative and transferred to WRU company vehicle at 3:15 pm. The rest of the acquisition proceeded without incident.

ASSIGNED HANDLERS: 

CONTRACT SIGNED: 06.09.20XX 5:55 PM

           PRIMARY: Benjamin Ralford, per request, acting as primary. Handler and Processor, Romantic Division.

           SECONDARY: Melissa Striker, Senior Handler and Processor, Romantic Division

SIGNATURE PROVIDED VOLUNTARILY, SUBJECT NOT SEDATED FOR SIGNING. SUBJECT SHOWED NO VISIBLE SIGNS OF INJURY AT TIME OF SIGNING. SUBJECT REPORTED FEELINGS OF FEAR AND CONFUSION COMMON TO NEW RECRUITS.  

CONTRACT SIGNATURE: Haven Gray, aka 549065

PRESENT AT TIME OF SIGNING: Handler Benjamin Ralford, Badge #3345, WRU Attorney Ryan Alderson. 

ESTIMATED COST FOR TRAINING: $125,000 USD

COMPENSATION TO BE PAID BY PROSPECTIVE:  $500,000 USD 

CURRENT LOCATION: Romantic Division Room #12, post-signing contract

TRAINING PLAN: ALL Positions 1-35, Flexibility, Sensitivity, Endurance, Dance, Socialization

COMMENTS:

I’m going to take every fucking thing out of that head and put back in only what I want to be there. I think they’ll fall in line once the Drip is really working on them. My professional recommendation is total illiteracy should be emphasized before moving on to other training. They’ll do better with focus and commitment on the skills we want to impart that way. I am also recommending absolutely no scarring unless there is no other option. - Benjamin Ralford, Primary Handler

Scribbled at the bottom of the paper and not put in to WRU’s digitized records system is a note in Ralford’s handwriting:

Should’ve gone on that fucking date, asshole

-

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment  – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.  

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact. 

“Liam.” 

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

[silverfootstepswrites]

Equinox: Winter [6]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (here)

“You’re 40?” Sakura repeated. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Ino.

Ino in all her ethereal beauty. With her silken hair and smooth face. She looked more fresh-faced than some of the 18-year-olds that Sakura knew.

“Forty? As in four times ten. Like ten presidential terms back to back?” Sakura asked. Ino nodded, a smug smile curling her lips. She pretended to check her nails as she leaned against the table.

“How old does my dad look?” Ino then asked.

Ino’s father ran the florist shop next door. He was a soft-spoken man with one of those smiles that crinkled his eyes.

“Um… somewhere in his fifties?”

Ino threw her head back, positively cackling. She clutched her stomach. The sound of her laughs filled the air with the smell of sweet, fairy magic. Like someone was baking chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

“Try doubling that,” Ino corrected.

“You’re making fun of me, Ino,” Sakura complained. Ino reached across the table to grab Sakura’s hands.

“Swear on my left tit, he is,” Ino promised her. Sakura’s eyebrows rose.

“Why just the left one?”

“It’s the prettier one,” Ino sighed, glancing down at her chest. They burst into laughter, collapsing against the table. Tears sprang into Sakura’s eyes as her stomach clenched. She seriously began to wonder whether spending this much time with Ino would help her develop abs.

“Okay, why bring up age all of a sudden, Ino?” Sakura queried.

It was almost closing time at the cafe. Sakura often wondered why Ino stayed open so late, especially since it was such a small town. But it was nice to know that at least Ino would be up whenever she needed a late-night caffeine fix.

“My dad’s been saying lately how I’m not a child anymore,” Ino confessed. She yanked her purple apron over her head. One of the strings tangled around Ino’s right wing. Sakura reached over to free it.

“Thanks,” sighed Ino. She folded the apron into a neat little square. She left it in her lap. And then, sighing, she looked at Sakura.

“You know, I’d get married right away if you were a guy,” Ino suddenly told her.

Sakura laughed. “Ino, what?” She picked up the last macaron on the plate between them. It was raspberry with a chocolate ganache filling.

“You’re a good listener, you have a good job, and you’re smart. Plus, you like my cooking,” Ino recited, counting off on each finger as she went down the list. Sakura snorted. She pointed at Ino with the half-eaten macaron.

“Everyone likes your cooking, Ino,” Sakura pointed out.

“Charming, too,” Ino added to the list. Rolling her eyes, Sakura held out the macaron. She fed it to Ino before she wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. She crumpled it into a tiny ball in her fist.

“So your dad is nagging you about getting married, huh?” Sakura asked.

Ino leaned her elbow on the table. “Fairies normally have big families. But Mom died right after having me. I think my dad is lonely… which I get.”

Sakura nodded. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“I’m never getting married. It sounds like a nightmare,” Sakura remarked. Ino snickered.

“Aw, come on, Sakura. You’re just saying that because you’re young. You’ll want to settle down someday,” Ino insisted, elbowing her. And then Ino’s smile faded.

“Whoa. Those were some weird vibes I just got from you. What’d I say?” she demanded.

Sakura didn’t look at her. She stared out the window. There was a streetlight across the street. She had parked her red sedan right under it.

A car drove past. The headlights cut white paths on the wet asphalt.

“Marriage and sirens is like oil and water. They don’t mix well,” was all Sakura said.

There was another pause. The song playing over the speakers faded out, waiting to transition into the next track.

“Sorry. Guess marriage is sort of an icky subject for you, huh?” Ino said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, now I know. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

Sakura ran into Itachi at a holiday party. Which, on one hand was surprising, but also wasn’t. She wasn’t sure which famous designer or singer was hosting the event. All she had heard was that there would be champagne tower and she had decided to show her face.

She felt someone touch her elbow in the crowd. When she turned, so did Kakuzu. He wasn’t above twisting someone’s arm or throwing a drink.

“Hi,” Sakura greeted Itachi.

And he didn’t say anything in return. Couldn’t. He was speechless.

She was wearing a long sleeve bodycon dress. Nothing too revealing. Certainly not in comparison to the other people at this party. But the way her face glowed in the club’s flashing lights was breathtaking.

Kakuzu’s hand slipped off Sakura’s waist.

“Hang on, Bunny. I’ll deal with him,” he muttered. But Sakura stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. When Kakuzu continued to scowl, Sakura gave him a playful shove. “Go. I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.” She watched him head up the stairs before she turned back to Itachi. She leaned against the railing, smiling at him.

“You okay there, Casanova? One too many drinks?” she asked.

Itachi stared up into her face for a while longer before he uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said in return, her smile widening.

She reached out to touch the sleeve of Itachi’s jacket. His chin tilted down as he watched her hand.

“Looking sharp. Do you wanna come upstairs? We have a table,” Sakura offered. She pointed up to the second floor.

Itachi’s brain seemed to have caught up to the rest of him. Because his expression began to relax a little. He gestured with his glass to a booth on the other side of the room.

“Sorry. I’m here to schmooze. Especially since we’re moving ahead with the project with… Killer Bee,” Itachi explained. And then his face changed a little.

“…Are you seriously alright with me going ahead with that? I still feel weird about letting him just use your song,” Itachi then asked. Sakura nodded. She leaned in closer so that she wouldn’t have to yell over the music and all the other people.

“It’s fine. I’m not a really vindictive person,” she assured him. Itachi smiled a little.

“Me too. I suck at holding grudges,” he confided in her. They laughed.

Itachi eyed her empty champagne flute. “Well, let me buy you a drink. Maybe hanging out with you will make me look important,” he suggested. He held his hand out to Sakura. The top of his cross tattoo peeked out past the top of his sleeve. Sakura bit her tongue between her front teeth as she considered. She slipped her hand into Itachi’s.

“Sure,” she agreed.

Itachi wasn’t especially intimidating or bulky. He didn’t part a crowd with an evil eye like Kakuzu did. But he did a pretty good job of guiding her through the people. He linked his fingers between hers, glancing back every few seconds to check that she was okay.

When they got to the bar, he helped Sakura squeeze into an open spot. She pulled him into the space with her. They were smushed together, but she didn’t mind. Sakura made eye contact with the busy bartender who gave her a hurried nod as she rushed past. It took a couple minutes for the woman to finally get to her. She looked frazzled.

“Two White Gummy Bears, please,” Sakura told her. The woman looked relieved. Probably that Sakura hadn’t ordered another margarita or, worse, a mojito, which required a million steps. She pulled two clean glasses out and filled them with the expensive stuff. Sakura held out a bill, saying, “No change.”

“Hey. Thanks,” the bartender replied. And then she hurried off to serve the next customer.

Itachi eyed the clear drink. Sakura snickered at him as she grabbed a glass. Itachi had no choice but to take the other one.

“Why does this smell like an actual gummy bear?” he asked.

“Come on,” Sakura urged, slapping his chest twice. She held her glass out, waiting until he clinked his drink against hers. Sakura tossed her drink back, grinning as she held her empty glass up. Itachi copied her. His eyes popped wide open. He had half-expected it to taste like a candle. It was delicious. She laughed at him.

“For courage. I’ve never had a bad night after one of these,” Sakura told him.

“And it’s less embarrassing than ordering a Slippery Nipple. Or a Screaming Orgasm,” she added. Itachi burst into laughter. And then a thought occurred to him.

“I thought I was supposed to be buying you a drink,” he yelled over the music. She leaned in closer to him.

“Like I said. For courage. Go schmooze it up, Romeo,” Sakura told him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and slipped away before he could react.

The following morning (about eight hours and six drinks later) Sakura woke with a killer hangover on the sofa in Temari’s apartment. She spent the day recovering, because, unfortunately, she had another party to attend that evening.

The holidays were the worst because it required the most socializing. People were sensitive and got offended when she chose to attend certain events and not theirs. Madara helped her get out some parties with plausible excuses. For his Christmas present, she got him a set of expensive crystal glasses for his bar cart.

“Because you’re my angel,” she told him. Madara smirked.

But by the time the winter solstice rolled around, Sakura put her foot down.

“Either buy me a new liver or cover for me,” Sakura demanded.

And so she drove down to Old Pines for the first time in nearly a week. The back of her car was crowded with all the various party favors and presents she had received during the craziness. She was always struck by how easily celebrities spent their money. She had once received five iPads during the holidays as party favors.

As Sakura pulled off the highway, she switched on the high beams. The narrow forest path was much more familiar to her now. She even knew how to swerve to avoid a pothole halfway down the road. As she neared Old Pines, she let out a sigh of relief. She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and then to crawl into her bed.

She switched back to her regular headlights when she entered the town. The radio played low as she turned the steering wheel. The streetlights were on already. But they were almost unnecessary because the base of each light was wrapped with twinkling string lights. The lights were also draped across most of the buildings and houses. They all blinked at different rates, in blues, and reds, and golds, like winks rippling up and down the streets. And as Sakura cracked the window she could smell the fairy magic in the air. Like the fragrance of bread baking in an oven, only spread all throughout the town.

Even though she wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, Sakura stopped by Ino’s cafe. But Ino wasn’t inside standing by the counter. She stood outside, garlands of evergreen held up in her hands. Her dad sat on a ladder beside her.

“Hey, Ino!” Sakura called as she got out of her car.

“Oh! Hi! Hold on a sec!” Ino yelled back. Sakura checked both ways before she ran across the street. She grabbed the other end of the garland that was dragging on the ground. She handed it to Inoichi, who smiled down at her.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Of course,” she replied.

Sakura helped them hang the garlands on the front window. Ino wrapped string lights around the garland while her dad hung a huge wreath made of holly on the door.

“Solstice is coming, huh?” Sakura remarked. She and Ino took a step back to survey their work. Ino put her arm around Sakura’s shoulders as she nodded. And then her nose wrinkled as she looked at Sakura.

“You seem exhausted. Come inside. I’ve got a blueberry tart with your name on it,” Ino then urged her.

Over the next several days, Old Pines was busy preparing for the winter solstice. They chopped down a tree and placed it in the middle of town. Everyone gathered together to help decorate. Ino was there, distributing cups of warm cider while Tsunade regaled the children with the stories that explained their traditions. Kiba was one of the people helping to erect the tree. He spared her a moment to wave at her, but she didn’t want to bug him.

Sakura jumped a little when a wet nose touched her hand. A smoky, black dog sat beside her. She rubbed her hand over his head once. And then his form shifted, growing taller and taller. Kakashi stood there instead. He handed her a gold ornament. A few bits of glitter clung to her fingertips as she accepted it.

“Hey, stranger,” Kakashi greeted her.

“Hey yourself,” she answered.

They stood side by side. Watching the busy scene. One of the pups threw his head back and howled. Hana whacked the back of his head.

“Knock it off. It’s not even a full moon yet,” she scolded as his cousins snickered at him.

“No, you can’t have a yuletide bonfire in the woods. Are you crazy?” Tenten retorted in response to someone’s question.

Someone began belting out a song in a low voice. He trailed off as he forgot the rest of the lyrics. Laughter and applause rose in response to his valiant efforts.

Sakura leaned against Kakashi a little.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“Mm-mm,” Sakura replied, shaking her head.

Kakashi’s arm shifted anyway. She heard him unzip his jacket. And then pulled her so that her back pressed against him. Grabbing either side of his jacket, he wrapped that around her too. Sakura giggled.

“What’re your plans for the solstice, Sheriff?” asked Sakura. They watched as the butcher and his son attempted to untangle a length of string lights.

“Throw the yule log on the fire. Eat steak with the dogs. Nothing fancy,” Kakashi replied. He rested his chin on top of her head.

“Not fancy sounds amazing,” sighed Sakura. She felt like she had had a lifetime’s worth of champagne fountains and gold leaf cocktails. Kakashi chuckled. It tickled against her spine.

“Well, you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure the dogs won’t mind,” he told her.

“What’re you talking about? We’re all going to Sakura’s, Sheriff,” Ino suddenly said as she walked past them to get a fresh carafe of cider.

Kakashi twisted around to look at Ino. That made Sakura swivel too. Which was fine by her.

“Huh?” Sakura and Kakashi said in unison.

“You’re new in town, Sakura. Your house is in the need of the most yuletide blessings,” scolded Ino.

“That’s true. A yuletide celebration invites good luck into your house for the whole year. I’m in,” Tenten agreed.

“Kiba, you can come if you bring your mom’s roast beef!” Ino called.

“What? I can’t hear you!” shouted Kiba in return.

“Cool. It’s decided,” Ino said, turning to Sakura with a wink.

On the day of the winter solstice, Ino showed up to Sakura’s house. She carried a huge cardboard box filled with greenery. Tenten trailed behind her with a second box. And then Hana entered carrying paper bags bursting with food.

They spent the morning decorating Sakura’s house between sips of the town’s best coffee. Ino had even packed freshly-baked muffins sprinkled with vanilla sugar. They hung mistletoe above the door to invite in good fortune and positive emotions. They draped holly and garlands of evergreen from the windows and bannisters. Ino hung a huge wreath interwoven with ivy and holly from the front door. The house was bustling with voices and laughter. It felt a little strange, but Sakura didn’t hate it.

The men began to trickle in throughout the afternoon. Kiba showed up first, bearing a foil-covered pan that held his mother’s famous roast beef. He grabbed Sakura in a hug from behind, making her yelp. Sakura laughed even as she slapped his arm several times.

“You jerk! You scared the shit out of me!” she scolded. Kiba cackled as he pretended to wince under her weak blows. He let out an actual yelp of pain as Hana smacked him with a tree branch.

“Stop flirting and go bring in some more firewood,” Hana ordered.

Kakashi came a little later with plenty of his mulled apple cider. Sakura poked her head out of the house when she heard his car. He waved as he got out of his cruiser. And then he opened the back door. A torrent of dogs poured out of the backseat. At the head of the pack was a tan dog with a red bandana tied around him. Close on his heels was a little pug that huffed and puffed as he struggled to keep up.

Sakura knelt on the gravel, her arms spread wide. Biscuit pounced on her, tail vibrating furiously as he whined and pawed at her. The rest of the dogs arrived and barreled her over. Flat on her back, Sakura giggled as the dogs struggled to receive the most pats and hugs.

The car door shut. Kakashi let out a high-pitched whistle. The dogs parted. Pakkun stubbornly continued licking Sakura’s hand. Bull chomped down on the back of Pakkun’s collar to drag him out of the way. Sighing, Kakashi offered his hand to Sakura. He pulled her to his feet.

“The dogs are… really happy to see you,” was all Kakashi could say.

“Just the dogs?” Sakura teased. Kakashi’s smile didn’t disappear. But it shifted a little. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he pulled her face closer so that he could kiss her forehead.

“I’m one of the dogs too,” he reminded her. He gave another kiss to the top of her head before he headed into the house. When he let out a sharp whistle, the dogs followed after him. Only Biscuit lingered. He looked from his retreating brothers to Sakura. His paws shuffling around. Laughing, Sakura scratched between Biscuit’s ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” she assured him.

Sakura was a little surprised by how well Kakashi’s dogs got along with Kiba. Bull, in particular, seemed interested in Kiba, who was happy to roughhouse with the bulldog for a bit. He didn’t even complain as Bull drooled on his hand.

When Kiba and Kakashi saw each other, there was a tense moment. Sakura wondered if they would be stupid and do the whole glaring and sniffing routine. Instead, Kiba nodded at Kakashi. Kakashi clapped him on the shoulder before he headed into the kitchen. Sakura didn’t really understand the shift in their dynamic. She was just thankful that it wouldn’t be awkward.

Ino began working her magic in the kitchen. She reheated the roast beef in the oven while Kakashi warmed his cider on the stove. She asked him about his recipe, which Kakashi was happy to explain. Hana joined them to help Ino chop up the ingredients she had brought for a salad.

When someone knocked on the door, everyone looked perplexed. Except for Sakura who went to let the last guest in.

“Sorry I’m so late. Traffic was crazy,” Itachi greeted her as he stepped inside. He handed Sakura a bottle of wine. It was expensive brand. He carried another bottle under his arm.

Kiba and Hana exchanged a look. Kakashi and Ino exchanged a look too. And then Kakashi and Kiba glanced at each other. They said nothing. Kakashi went on stirring the cider. Kiba continued pairing forks and knives together.

Dinner was noisy, not just because of the dogs. They crammed into the kitchen, pulling out a couple folding chairs to squeeze everyone in. Tenten uncorked the wine Itachi had brought, pouring the first generous glass for Sakura. Pakkun wandered over a few times to give his best pleading eyes.

“I fed him before we got here. Don’t let him fool you,” Kakashi warned.

Sakura still snuck him a tiny bit of roast beef before she shooed him away.

Sakura’s worries about it being an awkward night were for nothing. There was plenty to laugh about. Especially because they started off by recounting how Sakura had called Itachi a dildo. Tenten and Hana cackled as Itachi and Sakura took turns explaining their sides of the story. And by the end of it, Sakura was laughing the hardest.

Everyone had seconds and then thirds of dinner. The rosemary bread Ino had brought disappeared without a single crumb left. And the huge hunk of roast beef was gone too.

Patting their overly-full stomachs, they slowly got to their feet to help clear the table. And then they moved to the living room, popping open more wine and a couple beers. Kiba tossed another log into the fire, poking around to make sure everything was distributed properly.

Hana settled on one end of the sofa. Kiba sat next to her. Itachi sat to his left.

Sakura was happy to plop down on the rug. Biscuit wandered over to her. He didn’t seem to need anything in particular. He just turned around a few times before he curled up on the rug, pressed against her thigh. The rest of the dogs were piled up in the kitchen, snoozing on the warm path of floor in front of the fridge. The exception was Shiba, who laid in front of the front door, like a snoring doormat.

“Sakura’s like the dog whisperer. These kids love her so much,” Hana remarked.

“It’s good to be popular,” replied Sakura. They chuckled.

Ino joined them, one of Sakura’s trays laden with desserts. And even as they all complained that they were too full, they all picked at the fruits and the cookies dusted with powdered sugar. Itachi, who hadn’t eaten much during dinner, devoured handfuls of pomegranate seeds.

Kakashi was last. He handed everyone mugs of warm cider. He also gave Sakura the wine she had forgotten at the dinner table. She raised it to him.

“My hero,” she declared. Kakashi smiled before he sat near the fireplace. He stretched his arms over his head.

“Well. Guess we don’t have to eat until next winter,” he declared. He rubbed his stomach.

“Seriously. Time to hibernate,” sighed Ino. She leaned back on her hands.

There was a buzz from somewhere near them. But it was muffled. Hana felt the vibration near her foot. When she shifted it, she found that it was Sakura’s phone.

“Oh sorry. I forgot that was there,” Sakura apologized. Kiba picked it up. He held it out to her. Sakura cringed as she tried to reach forward. She gave up, rubbing her stomach.

“I’m too full. Could you read it to me, Kiba?” she requested instead.

Kiba unlocked her phone. The text message popped up right away.

“Fuck you, Bunny.”

“What?” Ino demanded. “Who’s that from? Who would say that to Sakura?” She seemed livid that someone would dare to curse at Sakura. But Sakura already had a good idea who it was.

“That’s what the text says. ‘Fuck you, Bunny’. Oh hold on. He’s typing,” Kiba read.

“Is his name just a bunch of middle finger emojis and puking faces?” Sakura inquired.

“Yeah. Wait. He said, ‘They dropped my ad campaign. It’s all over the news’,” Kiba recited in a flat voice. Itachi leaned over to read over his shoulder. And then he pulled his phone out. He typed out a few words and began scrolling through the results. Ino looked at her phone too.

“Sounds serious. You have any idea what he’s talking about?” Hana mused.

“Wait. Does this have to do with…?” Kakashi trailed off, too polite to point at Itachi. Kiba pointed at Itachi anyway.

“That asshole that stole Sakura’s song,” Kiba supplied.

Ino held up her phone. The article on screen said, ‘Killer Bee Exposed: Plagiarism. Loses Sponsorships.”

“It’s probably just rumors. All that tabloid news is fake anyway,” Tenten scoffed. Ino shook her head as she continued scrolling. She pulled up several more articles with similar titles.

“No… I got an email from my bosses. We dropped him,” Itachi declared.

“What?” Sakura demanded.

“In light of the serious allegations against Killer Bee, we have decided to cease production of the current project. This does not reflect the values and vision of our company. We cannot, in good faith, support an artist that poses the hard work of others as his own,” Itachi read.

“I thought you just told him to keep it. That you wouldn’t do anything,” Itachi then said, looking up at Sakura.

“I’m confused,” Kiba declared, rubbing his temple. He leaned forward a little further this time. He tossed Sakura her phone. She just barely managed to catch it between her fingertips.

“Me too,” Sakura said.

She checked her emails. There were several messages. That was normal. But in particular, an email from one sender caught her eye. The subject read, “Taken care of”. She pressed on it.

I’m back from Spain. We should talk. I’ll come to you.

P.S. I told you that I’ve always got your back.

Sakura gulped down what was left in her wine glass. She hissed out a long sigh between her teeth.

“Of course,” she muttered, getting to her feet. She headed to the kitchen.

‘Which one of you assholes, snitched?’ she texted the group chat. She filled her wine glass as she waited.

There was a pause. A few bubbles popped up and then faded.

‘My bad. He scares me,’ replied Hidan.

‘You suck,’ Sakura replied.

‘Go die,’ Kakuzu agreed.

‘Hidan, u fuck,’ Temari contributed.

Sakura turned to face the people sitting in her living room. They were all staring at her. Kakashi was already on his feet. Kiba saw this and got to his feet too.

“What’s wrong?” Kiba asked.

Sakura found Itachi. Stared directly into his eyes as she took a long sip of wine. As she lowered her glass, she pointed at him.

“Remember how I said you don’t ever want to meet a real siren?” she asked him. Itachi nodded.

“Well… Merry Christmas,” Sakura declared.

Winter [end]

[alexisbundy1-blog]

#13. Road Trippin’

Over the spring break, my father and I spent eight days (unnecessarily) visiting an assortment of colleges on the East Coast. We covered ground from New Hampshire down to North Carolina, which gave me a chance to visit new places and rediscover old ones. It was also a really nice chance to bond with my dad, who has been in and out of the country for the past few months. I’ve decided to summarize my trip to each state to give insight into what I experienced throughout the eight days.

BOSTON, MA: When I first visited Boston over the summer, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. It was hot and sticky, I was with a group of people I didn’t really know, and I also had a ~slightly traumatic~ experience. However, when I re-visited the city with my dad, I began to understand the real appeal: great sports town, great community, great college town, tremendous amount of history, and there’s a lot happening. Though it was quite cold, the sun still shone from a relatively clear sky; at least there was no snow. It also didn’t hurt that the first hour of being in Boston was spent shopping on Newbury Street. I’d give Boston an 8/10. Keep doing you, Boston.

HANOVER, NH: First of all, Hanover was cold as heck. It actually snowed (what in tarnation) during my <24 hours in the town, and come 9am, it was 22°. Um, no thanks. But cold weather aside, you can instantly feel the tight-knit, small town atmosphere of Hanover the second you enter. As my dad and I explored the one mile radius of what is downtown Hanover, we came across a small poster/record/memorabilia shop where I received an unsolicited, but not really unwelcome, explanation of how to finesse my way into Dartmouth (even though I will not be applying there until maybe my second year of college, and most likely for a semester abroad). For me, Hanover was lovely, but it was a little isolated for me. I’ll give it a 6/10. (That’s also because of the weather)

NEW HAVEN, CT: After spending three weeks this summer confined to specific areas of New Haven, I felt pretty comfortable walking around the town, reminiscing on lunch dates at the nearby Shake Shack and all of the terrible mistakes I made at summer camp. I have to say, though, New Haven has the best pizza in the US, and I am more than ready to defend my statement if need be. New Haven’s also great because it’s an hour from Boston and an hour from New York; you can get the best of both worlds either way. Plus, I got to spend some time with Casti alum/one of my idols Lea Sparkman!!! But I didn’t get to see my one true idol, Paige Vermeer. RIP. Because I’m a little biased towards it, I’ll give the Dirty Have an 8/10.

NEW YORK CITY, NY: Literally five seconds upon my arrival, I was smothered by one of my best friends, who lives on the Lower East Side, and was whisked away from my hotel in Midtown to Times Square. One of my favourite rituals with said friend is to window shop at expensive department stores (Barney’s, Saks, Bergdorf Goodman in this case) and drop our jaws at the ridiculous pricing of the ridiculous clothing. I mean, a Fendi t-shirt for $875? A shirt that you could buy at Urban Outfitters for $30? Come on, now. But New York is always a treat, shoddy weather or not. New York will always get a 9/10 from me.

NEWARK, NJ: Because my father hails from NJ, we always make a visit to my uncle, who lives in Roselle Park, and spend time with my family. Prior to, we drove through the town of Princeton, and my father pointed out numerous places that held special places in his heart. For example: an intersection on a highway in which my mother and he were rear-ended. When we returned to my uncle’s neighbourhood - about an hour away from Princeton - we headed to the town where my father and he grew up and were treated to a good old-fashioned Italian meal at the local restaurant. After saying our goodbyes, Dad and I headed to our airport hotel, where it turned out that our booking hadn’t gone through, and my father’s true Jersey roots came into play. Jersey is Jersey, so I’ll give it a 6/10 (It would be a 5, but I have sentimental feelings towards NJ)

CHAPEL HILL, NC: I’ve always wanted to visit North Carolina, and honestly I was not disappointed. We were greeted with 80° (!!!) weather - a welcome change from a high of 51° - and Southern hospitality. Chapel Hill is such a beautiful area; I was blown away by it all. Everything was great until we ate dinner at a nearby restaurant. It wasn’t that the food was bad, but I found myself not being a fan of Southern food. Very heavy stuff. Regardless, though, NC had a really warm atmosphere that honestly surprised me. I’m ready to go back now. 9/10.

CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA: Okay so we didn’t actually spend more than 30 mins in Charlottesville. I know I have some friends here who are from Charlottesville, so I won’t diss their former town. But my trip through the state of Virginia was nothing less than...eye-opening. I’ve told this story about 923994 times already but it still leaves me in slight disbelief. After leaving NC and being in VA for all of five minutes, Dad and I were greeted with a 50-ft tall, 100-ft wide Confederate flag that hung from a 300-ft flagpole. I think what bewildered me the most is that it actually stood in existence; we all hear of Confederate statues and whatnot, but seeing a Confederate flag proudly blowing in the breeze before you is a sight you can’t unsee. Fast forward two hours, fried catfish sandwiches (that we most definitely didn’t eat) and all, we found ourselves yearning to get to the hotel. As it turns out, our hotel was not on campus, as advertised, but instead a mile out. My dad was so horrified by its dilapidated state that he made the executive decision to make another two-and-a-half hour trip to Arlington. Guys, I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to give Charlottesville/the southern part of Virginia a 3/10. I hope my former Cvillians won’t hate me and will see my outsider’s perspective.

WASHINGTON, D.C.: I love Washington, D.C. very much. It didn’t hurt that my middle school trip to the nation’s capital was wonderful, and it also didn’t hurt that we happened to be visiting on a beautiful day. I mean, need I really say anymore? D.C. is awesome. It’s a city that, to quote my dad, “makes you proud to be an American.” If you take out all of the political corruption. D.C. gets a 9.5/10. Go you, D.C. 

And so concludes my rather exhausting trip. I am now sick and recovering from a virus that I picked up along the way, but I wouldn’t trade that trip for the world. Shoutout to my father for being the best driver and for having the stamina to do such an extensive, ambitious trip. And also for booking it to Arlington with no complaints. 

I’m sad that I won’t be attending college in the States for the first year (at least), but hey, transfers and semesters abroad exist. I don’t think the American college system has seen the last of Lexi Bundy just yet ;)

[aquarianlights]

Im so sorry for your episode. But i want you to know that we still love you and we are here for you.

Oh god, thank you...

Apparently everyone is now. No one is like my ex-es/ex-roommates/parents here....we are family. Actual family. And we take care of each other. And it ...I have a REAL support system for the first time in my life. My friends spent 3 FUCKING HOURS running around sketchy af NOLA backroads to find me last night. And one of them even physically fought me and restrained me. And they took care of me. Everyone took care of me. And then when I woke up today and saw my roommates and met with the friend that dealt with me last night, every single one of them asked me if I was okay and gave me a hug.

And there I was between train tracks/highway...a fence with barbed wire...and a lumbar/solar panel factor...in the back alley...in a REALLY dangerous area...with a broken beer bottle just slicing at my arm with it, telling myself out loud that I didn’t matter, no one cared, etc etc etc....meanwhile all my friends were either out looking for me or texting me/calling me frantically. And proceeded to take care of me through a completely dissociative schizo episode. Like, complete psychological blackout. I have no memories. And they were still there for me in the morning.....helping, checking on me, giving me familial love...

I couldn’t believe it. Yeah, they all told me that I scared the fuck out of them. But. . .normally I just wake up in a hospital in restraints after episodes like that. No. Instead, my support system helped me. Because they know how detrimental those places are to me.

And they’re not deserting me, telling me to leave, adjusting our living situation negatively, giving me a time frame in which I need to get out, kicking me out, calling 911 on me, tying me up, locking all the pills and sharp objects up, treating me like a child.....THEY’RE TREATING ME LIKE AN ADULT. GIVING ME AUTONOMY. WHAT I HAVE NEEDED MY WHOLE LIFE!!!

Instead of forcing me into being co-dependent...and then getting angry at me for being co-dependent when they forced me to be that way in the first place...they’re giving me standards and holding me to them. If I don’t hold up to those standards, I get real-world, adult consequences. Which do not involve being kicked out or locked up or getting things taken away from me or anything...

I’ve never had a situation like this...where people genuinely want to help me. And genuinely want to see me grow as a person and achieve my dreams. And are genuinely supporting me.

There is a way to have autonomy while still accepting help...Still being independent, but working in a pack dynamic. We all have weaknesses, we all have strengths...and everyone in this household and all of our friends....we all complement those weaknesses and strengths. Wherever someone is weak, one or more of us can help. And we do. Hell, one of my roommates and I have “packmate tattoos” as we are platonic soul mates and have been since teenagers and all of us have “packmate” necklaces we all got about a year ago. And everyone we welcome into our irl fremily gets a packmate necklace. They’re from the gem and lapidary shop in the french quarter...they’re these wolves engraved into different kinds of stones hung on a black string. We all have different colour/rock style wolves, but they’re all the same engraving and the same string.

And this is so..........wonderful. I have a family. I have a real family here....and I can prosper here.

And I have this wonderful support online, too. A whole family online who is behind me. And a handful of online family equivalent to what my irl fremily is.

If only super suicidal, depressed teenager me could see 25 year old me now. I’m gonna be finished with my degree after this spring semester...and transferring to a pre-med program in Tulane University. Coz I decided...fuck the tech program, fuck the underling studies...that’ll just take 2 years of getting ANOTHER AA.......when I already have an AA...and can just go on to my pre-med BA automatically......why am I starting over like this? Tech school is pointless. My logic was flawed. I’m aiming to be in a surgical residency by the age of 35 or before. I have a kinda disadvantage there since most students start their residency at 26. But...I also have an advantage, like one well-known doctor told me that I e-mailed. So...he said I should just start now. And my adviser said the same thing. And my career counselor said the same thing. Drop all the tech classes and go straight pre-med. My degree combined with my GPA will allow me entrance into almost any pre-med program I want. I’m only choosing Tulane U because it’s closest. And it doesn’t matter where you get your AA and bachelors...it starts mattering when you get to your masters, and ACTUALLY matters when you get to your doctorate. Idk where I’ll physically be after I finish my bachelors...so Idk where I’m gonna go after that...but I will worry about that later.

And getting a job when I come back on the 4th...in a clinic...and internships and shadowing.... And I’m getting nexplanon replaced next week...and switching my medicaid...and updating everything and I found a place that SAFE HRT here...so I’m going to a session there to have all my work from my PPH HRT doctor transferred there to let them look at it and determine together whether it’s safe for me or not. Coz the PPH HRT doc is leaning towards HRT not being safe for me...so I’m kinda disappointed in that. But..... there are other ways to transition. And, as my PPH HRT doc said, if HRT isn’t an option for me, we can find other ways for me to transition. And my dog is gonna be home with me finally... And I will be finding a pscyh and doc here for medication management, etc. . .

Everything is falling into place so nicely for me...and I ...I can’t believe it’s happening. And I’m fucking....happy. Wow. I still have downs, like yesterday, but......majority of my life is happiness and motivation and energy and ...a beginning of stability.

God, if only teenage me could see me now. If early 20′s me could see me now. If 24 year old me could see 25 year old me.......

I never woulda guessed in a million years............

I am honestly the luckiest guy alive. I can’t believe I have an irl family that loves me and an online family that loves me. It’s unreal. And both support me and that is just........unbelievable to me.

Thank you, nons. Messages like this keep me going...keep reminding me that maybe I’m worth something in this life.

Thank you. I cannot thank you enough. Thank you...

[chorusfm]

Jimmy Eat World – Chase This Light

I’m not sure I have ever anticipated a new album with quite the furor that I anticipated Jimmy Eat World’s Chase This Light in the fall of 2007. Futures had been a game-changer for me, the album that transformed me from a budding music listener into a voracious, lifelong die-hard. As often happens when you’re young, the three years that stretched between the October 19, 2004 release of Futures and the October 16, 2007 release of Chase This Light seemed to last an eternity. (I was 13 when the former came out and 16 for the arrival of the latter.) The wait was eased a bit by the 2005 release of the Stay on My Side Tonight EP, but the dark, moody nature of those songs only made me want a full-length. An album packed of songs like “Disintegration” and “Closer”? Count me in. Chase This Light was decidedly not that record. Futures gave the band two basic paths forward. The first was to embrace the moody, late night autumnal vibe that manifested on songs like “Polaris” and “23.” That path evidently led to Stay on My Side Tonight, which was made up of songs the band had written for Futures but hadn’t finished or put on the record. The second possible path was for Jimmy Eat World to keep following their arc as a glossy studio band. They’d made Futures with Gil Norton, a well-respected rock producer known for making big, robust rock albums. Futures sounded appropriately huge, and there was some feeling—particularly in radio singles like “Pain” and “Work”—that Jimmy Eat World could be a massive radio rock band for the new millennium if they wanted to be. They could prove that “The Middle” wasn’t just a fluke hit. That path led to Chase This Light, which was and is Jimmy Eat World’s biggest-sounding, glossiest, most pop-influenced record. They brought in Butch Vig to executive produce, hired Chris Lord-Alge to handle mixing, and wrote songs like “Big Casino” and “Always Be” that had truly massive earworm choruses. It wasn’t their fault that radio rock died a swift death between the fall of 2004—when bands like Green Day and The Killers were delivering radio hit after radio hit—and the fall of 2007. The singles from Chase This Light still did relatively well: “Big Casino” went to number 3 on the rock charts and hit the “Bubbling Under Hot 100 Singles” chart. But Jimmy Eat World evidently weren’t destined to become a radio band, and Chase This Light didn’t fundamentally change their fanbase or their general narrative. Monitoring the release of Chase This Light at the time, I remember that some fans were put off by the poppy sound and muscular arrangements. Gone was any trace of the rawer emo sound that had characterized Static Prevails or Clarity. Instead, Jimmy Eat World made a record that—sonically, at least—mirrored its bright, colorful album cover. For a fair chunk of the early fanbase, Chase This Light probably marked the beginning of the end for Jimmy Eat World. Such fans are easy to spot these days: they hail the trio of Clarity, Bleed American, and Futures as the band’s peak and have little use for anything that came after. Personally, I didn’t buy into any of that. I’d become a Jimmy Eat World fan with Futures. I liked their glossier sound. I mostly didn’t think Clarity was all it was cracked up to be. (I’ve since recanted on this point.) And I was at a moment in my life where I really needed a record like Chase This Light—a record that sounded anthemic and hopeful, but one where, if you actually paid attention to the lyrics, you’d hear the sharp singe of heartbreak and the bitter ache of doubt and regret. Chase This Light is the saddest Jimmy Eat World record. It doesn’t sound like it on first blush. Storming out of the gates with the propulsive “Big Casino,” Chase This Light stacks five straight anthems before hitting its first ballad. Those song sound bright and cheerful, too. “Let it Happen” has a refrain that goes “I can laugh it off/Ha ha ha ha ha ha,” while “Always Be” kicks off with finger snaps. Spend a few moments going over the lyrics, though, and these songs morph from blissful pop jams into cruelly catchy confections of heartbreak. “Big Casino,” for instance, is packed with regret and delusions of grandeur, told from the perspective of an aging dreamer who still thinks he’s going to get his big break. “I’ll accept with poise, with grace/When they draw my name from the lottery,” Jim Adkins sings in the chorus, envisioning himself as the guy whose hand everyone will want to shake. He knows it’s not happening (hence the bridge, “I have one last wish/And it’s from the heart/Just let me down/Just let me down easy”), but he’s willing to fantasize. “Always Be,” meanwhile” is a quintessential boy-loses-girl song. The first verse picks up in the middle of a late-night drive, mere hours before a relationship fractures. “I’ll force a laugh to break the silence,” Jim Adkins sings, before acknowledging that “It’s gonna get harder still/Before it gets easy.” The couple in this song has grown so distant that they can’t even communicate with each other anymore—not even when they’re sitting in the front seat of the same car on a lonely dark highway, with nothing but fake, nervous laughter to cut the tension. (Don’t ask me why they didn’t just turn on the damn radio.) “She’ll always be/A little hard for me to reach,” goes the key line in the chorus, and if it’s not the most gutting thing Jimmy Eat World ever wrote, it’s close. Don’t even get me started on “Carry You,” a song about being so hung up on a former flame that you get stuck in a feedback loop of the memories you have of them. “Here’s to living in the moment, ‘cause it passed,” Adkins sings in the chorus. The protagonist in this song can’t stop building up this old, dead relationship in his head. He’s probably built it up so much that he remembers things as being better than they ever actually were. He’s created a total fantasy based on the relationship he could have had, and he legitimately can’t let it go. The most cutting line is “Roll down the windows, let the cold air come in/Slap my face just to feel you somehow again,” because even remembering the worst moments of the relationship is apparently better to this guy than letting go and moving on. And then there’s “Dizzy,” an arguable contender for the title of “best Jimmy Eat World song” (and probably for “best song of the 2000s” as well). “Dizzy” was actually the second song I heard off Chase This Light. When this album came out, it was still a few months before I figured out how and where to watch for album leaks. My brother snagged the leak, though, and he sent me “Dizzy” via email, saying something like “You have to hear this now. I think it might be the best thing they’ve ever done.” In the weeks that it took for the album to come out and make its way to me, I played that song dozens, maybe even hundreds of times. There was an ache to it that wasn’t quite like any other song I’d ever heard. It seemed simultaneously hopeful and completely hopeless—like the relationship at the center of it might be salvageable, but also maybe not worth saving. 10 years later, “Dizzy” still hits me like a bag of bricks to the gut. While ���23” is my go-to favorite JEW song, Jim Adkins has never been more on his game as a lyricist than he was on “Dizzy.” Expressions of affection that seem to be meant for someone else; desperate late night calls from a payphone, leading to nowhere but a lonely answering machine; conversations that go around and around in circles without either person saying what they really need to say. “Do you hear the conversation we talk about?” Jim Adkins asks in the explosive chorus. In the acoustic version, it’s “Do you hear the conversation we talk around?” The boy and the girl in this song, they both know it’s over, but neither has the guts to say the words. Ironically, that stubborn reluctance to tear off the band-aid ends up making everything exponentially more painful for both parties. “You said you’ve never have regrets/Jesus, is there someone yet/Who got that wish?” Jim Adkins sings on the bridge, before asking “Did you get yours, babe?” We don’t get the answer in the lyrics, but we know it’s a “No.” In the kind of relationship this song describes, no one gets out without regrets. I can still remember every moment I spent with these songs in the fall of 2007, blasting them as I drove around town with my newly-minted driver’s license, or leaning on them at the end of a few exceedingly hard days. I recall being struck by how good it felt to hear Adkins’ voice again, how listening to this album those first few times felt like reconvening and commiserating with an old friend. Even by Thanksgiving break, a month and change after the album hit the streets, I was still spinning it religiously, reveling in the hooks of “Here It Goes” or “Chase This Light” and wondering why this sound couldn’t be on the radio. These days, it’s hard for an album to take hold of my life like that. With so many records to listen to and streaming services always there to give us instant accessibility, most of us are scattered in our focus when it comes to music. It’s rare now that a new album will get even a week out of me without sharing real estate with half a dozen other LPs. Jimmy Eat World, though, is one of the few bands that can still command my undivided attention. Last year, I went on a road trip right after I got my hands on Integrity Blues. I listened to it five times in about eight hours of total driving time. Still, without Chase This Light, I don’t know if Jimmy Eat World would have ever become that band for me. Futures made me a fan, but Chase This Light immortalized them as an all-time favorite. It branded its hooks, pristine sound, and devastating lyrics onto my soul during one of the most tumultuous years of my life. In doing so, it made Jimmy Eat World a band that I could never turn away from. A few years ago, when I wrote about Futures and how it inspired my obsessive love of music, I called it “a lightning bolt to the heart.” Chase This Light may not have been the commercial success it should have been, but it did prove to me that lightning could strike the same place twice—at least when it came to my own personal connection with music. Futures kept me afloat when I was 13 and staring down the possibility that I’d have to leave my hometown and move someplace where I didn’t know anyone, right before high school started. Chase This Light came along and did the same thing when I was 16, buckling under the pressures of school, adolescence, romantic confusion, and the lead role in a high school musical where I had to bear the brunt of an emotionally abusive director. Since then, every single Jimmy Eat World album has found me at exactly the right time: Invented in the autumn where I navigated through the euphoria of young love and the loneliness of a long distance relationship; Damage as I wrapped up my final weeks of college and bid farewell to my friends and the town we’d called home for four years; and Integrity Blues as a chaotic election year and a fractured world had me yearning for the simpler angst of my youth. For some Jimmy Eat World fans, Chase This Light was the end of the line. I’m proud to be one of the people for whom it was just the beginning. --- Please consider supporting us so we can keep bringing you stories like this one. ◎ https://chorus.fm/review/jimmy-eat-world-chase-this-light/

[asp1990]

DAY 7-10: Saturday 29th December 2018 – Tuesday 1st January 2019

A combo entry! 

SATUDAY: We left for Slovakia at 9am on Saturday morning and picked Miki’s friend Marta up from the train station in the Warsaw city centre. It was a bit stressful finding our way on to the right highway, which resulted in Miki and Lachlan having an argument, so a lot of the trip was spent with Lockie sulking, me staring out the window and Miki & Marta talking in Polish in the back seat. 

We stopped at a supermarket to stock up on food and drinks for the weekend and I paid 370 złote ($140) all up. Back in the car, we let Lockie sulk while we made small talk. We stopped at various petrol stations to get snacks and fill up the car and Lockie needed rest stops. He felt unwell, but Miki made him eat and it helped. 

The drive took about 9 hours. The roads were tricky and the drivers were even worse. Lockie was an absolute star to drive the whole time and not lose his temper. We arrived at about 7pm, and everyone else was already settled in. There were 12 of us in total. Lockie and I were a bit overwhelmed when we first arrived and sorting out rooms was a bit tricky - luckily we sorted it out so that Lockie and Miki had their own room and I was in the loft with Marta. I was not keen on sleeping in a room with people that I didn’t know. We started drinking and settled in and it was so lovely that everyone in the house made the effort to speak in Polish so that Lockie and I could understand. I am always so jealous of people that can speak multiple languages fluently. 

The house was just beautiful – I would never buy it, but it had SO much character! It was 2 stories high, with a 3rd level made up of 2 rooms in the attic, 2 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, an upstairs lounge and a kitchen/dining area downstairs – where we spent most of our time. There were mugs hanging on the ceiling, plates and axes mounted on the wall and a massive fireplace in the corner, which Lockie made his job to tend to all weekend.

I went to bed at about 1am and slept well. It got so hot though! Lachlan had lit the fire downstairs, and being in the roof, the heat rose right up. I hadn’t packed any dresses or shorts because everyone kept telling me it would be freezing haha

SUNDAY: I woke up at 8am to the sound of people talking downstairs in the kitchen. I went down to see that a veritable feast was being prepared. Agata had brought so many homemade pastes, spices and herbs from home and liked to prepare everything from scratch (I was blown away because usually UberEATS is the deal in a hung-over Australian house haha – this was not an option in Slovakia). They made a cold cut platter of meat, cheese, cucumber, tomato and bread and Lockie made pancakes with chocolate sauce or maple syrup. The girls also made a pot of lemon and ginger tea after everyone had finished eating – how lovely. Everything tasted amazing and the clean up afterwards was a real chore. 

The Polish crew all got ready to visit an abandoned castle in town, but the three of us wanted to do our own thing. I had a shower in the downstairs bathroom and it was just a bath a loose showerhead in it. Luckily, I wasn’t washing my hair, so I just awkwardly hosed myself down and jumped out. I thought the boys were going to take the 3 dogs for a walk on their own, but just as I was about to sit down and read my book, Lockie called out and asked if I was coming. So I went! We dressed warm and went for a stroll through the town before heading off the road in to a field, so that the dogs had room to run. The walk up the hill was a bit tricky, but it was worth the beautiful views once we got there. The dogs were going nuts and it started to snow! Photo opp time! We got some gorgeous shots, then started to head back down after Miki got a call from Marta saying that they were all going to the pub for dinner. We dropped the dogs back home then walked down as a big group.

The pub looked like an old log cabin and had these awesome, medieval, wooden menus. Luckily, the last 3 pages were all in English, so Lockie and I could choose something to eat. I chose baked Camembert with cranberry sauce and potatoes – it was so delicious! Lockie had some soup, fish and chips and the others all had gnocchi and Pierogi. We had beer and mulled wine and it was delightful ☺

Back at the house, the Polish crew asked me to teach them some “Australian Drinking Games”, so I taught them King’s Cup and Spoons. They loved both. We also played the mime version of Heads Up (an app like Charades) which was hilarious. Again, their English was so much better than I thought it would be, and they were able to guess most words. I tried to also teach them Flip Cup, but it was hard to explain and I soon gave up. After playing 3 consecutive drinking games, I started to feel a bit unwell, so excused myself to bed at about 2am.

MONDAY - NYE: After sleeping on L&M’s couch for a week and feeling the need to get up when they did, I reveled in sleeping in the roof with my own space. I decided to sleep in until 10.30am then watched an episode of Friends on my iPad, before making my way downstairs. Everyone was operating a bit slower than usual after a big night, and they told me that the boys had not gone to bed until 7am. A huge pot of scrambled eggs with onion and tomato had been prepared, again by Agata, and it was a delicious way to start the day with some coffee and orange juice.

I spent 25 minutes cleaning up the mess from brekky (as I had not had the chance to contribute to cooking/cleaning yet) and as soon as I was done, the girls started making more snacks (read: mess). Sigh. I went upstairs to watch the latest episode of RuPaul’s All Stars with Miki and Lockie. Lockie had to keep going downstairs to check on the freshly made cinnamon scrolls that he was making for everyone, but we got through the whole episode in the end.

We had the cinnamon scrolls for afternoon tea, which literally blew the minds of the Polish crew. Everyone was silent while eating them and then showered Lockie in compliments afterwards. One girl, who we’d hardly seen the whole trip, gave him a hug to say thank you for making something so delicious. Adorable. 

Miki and I set about making some dinner with the leftover food that we had – he let me dice the pumpkin, then he did everything else. He never lets me help haha. The dinner took about 2 hours to make (they roasted the vegies in the fire and made the pasta sauce from scratch – this again, blew my mind haha) and we ate at around 7pm. Everyone was still feeling a bit dusty from the night before, so the drinking was a bit less tonight and we settled for playing card games over a bottle of wine. 

Lockie and I went upstairs, in to the attic, to play Rummiking and listen to musicals. We had a HUGE catch up about work and life and only came down when we needed water haha. Miki visited us with drinks and some delicious corn fritters that he had made (so much homemade cooking – I’m not used to it!). We played a game of Taboo with the Polish Crew as they wanted to play/practice in English and I loved seeing them proud of how well they were able to explain words to me haha.

At 11:55pm, we all headed outside with bottles of champagne and sparklers. We counted down and then a world of fireworks happened around us! It appeared that everyone in the town had bought fireworks, except us, so we were able to just stand and enjoy as the houses around us competed for who had the biggest/loudest firecrackers. The dogs were a bit upset by all the noise, but overall it was a fantastic way to bring in the New Year!

We came back inside and kept playing Taboo for another hour before I headed to bed. The words were starting to get a bit repetitive and the more the Polish crew drank, the harder it became for me to guess or explain the words.

A very laid-back NYE – not what I’m used to haha, but lovely nonetheless.

TUESDAY – NYD: We all slept in this morning. Marta and I woke up at about 10.30am and immediately started packing up our belongings – we had a long drive home ahead of us. Miki made Lockie and I some coffee and a leftover cinnamon scroll (bless him), and I then went downstairs to help pack up the kitchen. I wasn’t sure who had brought what with them, so I just stuck to washing all the dishes and putting them away. Marta, Lockie, Miki and I were all ready to go at 12pm, so we said goodbye to everyone else (who were still in the early stages of packing – I think they were planning on spending most of the day there) and jumped in the car. A lot of snow had fallen overnight, so it was a gorgeous drive down the mountain, through villages and forests covered in white. Yay snow! I made Lockie pull over so that I could take a photo haha.

We were aiming to get Marta back to Warsaw train station for a 7.25pm train, so didn’t make many long stops. Our longest was probably at the highway McDonalds for lunch, because it was so packed. We just got take away and then jumped back on the road. We listened to an episode of RuPaul’s podcast, with Kristin Chenoweth, then I put on a 90’s playlist to keep everyone pumped. 

The time was cutting thin for Marta to make her train, so she started looking in to a ride-share option with some Ukrainian guy. It is not something that I would ever consider, but she said that she had used the service before and had also hitchhiked a lot around Europe. We got to the station at 7.26pm. Dammit! We said goodbye to Marta and wished her luck on her weird adventure home. 

By the time we got home, Marta had messaged Miki and said that the train had been delayed, so she had, in fact, gotten a train. Phew - a much safer option than a random ride! The 3 of us, back at the apartment, ordered pizza and watched the Netflix new-release Bird Box. It was really good!- definitely worth a watch. Miki then went to bed, while Lockie and I watched some weird show about the absence of sex and physical contact in Japan. I was hesitant to watch it, but it was actually very interesting. 

It is good to be back in Warsaw, with only 3 people in the house instead of 12, but I had such a wonderful time! The Polish crew was so lovely and accommodating and I will forever be thankful that they let me crash their NYE plans. What a bunch of legends ☺

[welcometoerinsworld]

This one is definitely going to be more than 5 minutes.

HOW LIFE IS GOING:

Things are going okay. Got a bit behind on my homework and had to finish it up today, which sucks, but it didn’t take too long.

It’s been three weeks since I last did an update cuz things have been all sorts of crazy, so there are three weeks of things to update on. Where to start. lol. So, last update I wrote about how I reconnected with a friend from high school, Josh. We’ve stayed in contact and message pretty much all day every day. I would say he’s part of the reason I didn’t get all my homework done before Sunday this last week. haha. It’s fun talking to him. He makes me laugh a lot and we support each other. He’s going through a lot of post-divorce drama with his ex, so we talk about that a lot. I complain about work and school and needing back massages, so it evens out.

In other news, there was some crazy stuff. I can’t remember if I’ve written about this on here before, but last summer I found a lump in my breast and had to have some testing done. They did bilateral mammograms (ow) and an ultrasound. Results came back as cysts that eventually went down in size to where I couldn’t feel them anymore. Well, a few weeks ago the lump came back bigger and had constant pain along with it. Went back to the doctor a few days after my last post and was scheduled for another round of testing at the hospital. This last Friday I had my appointment. This time they did a mammogram on just the one side and two ultrasounds. I have several more cysts, but they don’t know which one is causing the pain, so they can’t do anything about it since there are so many and they’re all fairly small. The doctor said it would be trial and error on removing the fluid from each cyst to figure out which one is being mean and that it would just fill up again over. She said if I get a large enough cyst that they can pinpoint that particular one as causing pain, they can surgically remove it, but until then they’re not going to do anything. Some days I can feel it hurting without touching it, but other days I have to poke around before it hurts. It’s a little stressful on the days I can feel the pain all day long, but at least it’s not unbearably painful. It’s mostly like a bruise someone keeps pressing on, not like pain where I’m going to fall over and cry, so at least there’s that.

WHAT I LOVED ABOUT THE LAST (three) WEEKs:

My favorite thing about three weeks ago was getting to babysit Holly’s kids. I love watching those kids. They’re all really great and so much fun. The boys (3 and 4) set up a little blockade so Emma (1) couldn’t get down the hall and she just walked back and forth in front of it all confused. It was the cutest thing ever.

My favorite thing about two weeks ago was meeting up with Josh in Winnemucca and getting to finally see him after 17 years (!). More about that below.

My favorite thing about this past week was after my testing at the hospital, Josh arranged to have flowers delivered to my apartment. He said he wanted to make sure I had something uplifting in case I received bad news at my appointment since he couldn’t be here with me. It was so incredibly sweet of him to do that and I really appreciated it.

Another nice thing about this last week is that a surprise little package arrived in the mail yesterday. Someone sent me some pretty daffodil jewelry. No clue who it’s from, but it’s lovely. Thank you, whoever you are.

WHAT I DID THIS WEEKEND and the weekend before that and the weekend before that:

This weekend has been uneventful. I’ve mostly done homework, prepared my lesson for church, and went to a friend’s house to check out her Lipsense stock. Ended up buying a few and am so excited about them. I’ve never been a girly girl (Josh keeps calling me that, though), so it’s so weird for me to buy expensive makeup (thank goodness she was running a special). But I love it and I love how it looks. My favorite is the super sparkly gloss. lol. It’s just so shiny and sparkly and pretty. I want to wear it every day. Maybe I am a closet girly girl and never realized it. lol.

These are photos of me wearing my new bright red lipstick with and without the sparkly gloss.

Without sparkly gloss

With sparkly gloss

Sooooo, for last weekend. Josh was supposed to come visit me on the 17th, but that didn’t work out, so I spent that Friday out at the coast, driving around looking at all the pretty viewpoints I passed and checking out fun eateries. It was fun and relaxing and just so nice. I loved being able to just explore at my own pace and not have to worry about homework or work or anything other than having a good time. It was really nice. Here are a few photos from my little excursion. None of them are edited, sorry. I’m too tired to process them right now. I’ll do a full post about the coast once school is out and I have time to sit down and edit photos.

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Friday night, though, things got crazy. Josh and I started joking about meeting halfway and then it turned into a serious conversation about where we could meet up. We both decided to pray and sleep on it at the very last second Saturday morning we decided to meet up in Winnemucca and spend 24 hours together. Yeah, we totally drove a billion and a half miles to meet up for a day. lol. He drove about 7.5 hours and I drove 8.25 hours. It was crazy, but also fun. I panicked a little just before we were supposed to meet up (he decided to drive up and meet me along the highway to drive back together) and pulled off at a chain-up area. He found me and we hung out there for a while, walking around and talking. It was nice. Then we drove the rest of the way to Winnemucca, had dinner, checked into our separate hotel rooms, and hung out some more. He helped me finish up some homework I still had to do and we just chilled. It was nice and relaxing and very low-key.

The next morning, he knocked on my hotel door at the crack of dawn cuz (and I loosely quote) he was “so excited to see me and couldn’t stay in his own room any longer.” I was still asleep and gave him a minor stink-eye. haha. We chatted for a bit before he went back to his hotel room (or walked around, I have no idea) so I could shower and get ready. When he came back, he showed me a few self-defense things before we headed out to find breakfast and then somewhere to walk/hike/hang out. We ended up at some sand dunes where he read part of a conference talk and then we listened to another one by Elder Uchtdorf. Then it was back to walking around, goofing off, talking a lot, and self-defense before lunch and then driving our separate ways. It was definitely a whirlwind weekend, but it was worth it. Except for the part where I almost ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere, but that’s beside the point. Josh is pretty awesome. Weird as anything on this planet, but a really great guy.

Two weekends ago was the 12th and 13th. That would have been mine and Troy’s 6-year anniversary. It was weird to realize I would have been with him for 6 years, but it didn’t make me as sad as I thought it would. I miss the fun we had together and the comfort of our relationship, but I know us parting ways was for the best. We messaged a little that day to talk about how we’re glad we have the memories of all our adventures, which was nice, but it was just a short 5-minute thing. He’s never been much for long conversations. I miss his quirks, but I’m okay with how things are now.

WHAT I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO:

School being over. lol. Seriously. It just needs to be over. I’m so done with school. This is the start of Week 9 and finals are in Week 11, so I’m almost there! Last final is due June 12th, so it’s just barely over two weeks away. I’m kinda wondering if I should take the 12th off so I can do finals, but if it works out like all my other terms, I’ll just have a bunch of timed tests that I can do on Monday and then Tuesday afternoon. Let’s all cross our fingers for that, k?

PLANS FOR THE UPCOMING WEEK:

Ugh. This week. lol. This upcoming week is turning into a giant mound of stress and it’s just barely starting. So, Tuesday I have to attend a 5.5 hour training at work after my morning session with Kid 2. That means I’ll hardly have any time to get homework done. I know this training is important, so I’m going to go and hope for the best. It’s ABM training (advanced behavioral modification) that will teach me how to handle when Kid 2 bites me, hits me, kicks me, and when other kids throw stuff. Anyone remember when I had a chair thrown at me a few weeks ago? Sheesh. The training will also go over getting out of various choke holds, how to handle hair pulling, ways to lift and move kids who are in behaviors, and some other things. I’m super nervous about it, but hopefully it will help me become better at my job.

Other stuff for this week are homework (duh), babysitting Holly’s kids (hooray!), and the possibility of Josh coming to visit. He’s going to try, but there are a lot of things going on for him at the moment, so it may not work out. I’m going to do my best to get all my homework done early in the week so I can hang out with him if he is able to come out. Sooooooooooooo, yeah. This week is gonna be crazy. Bring it on.

WHAT I’M NERVOUS ABOUT:

Homework, finals, and this dang term project I need to get working on. I have to analyze a supply chain and I haven’t started it yet. From what I’ve read on the class boards, several other classmates have yet to start, either. Not too great for any of us since there are only two weeks left in the term. I think this project is due on the 10th, so there are literally two weeks left to get it done. I’d better get crackin on it.

WHAT I’VE BEEN DAYDREAMING ABOUT:

Not having to do homework anymore. Cuddling. Romantic walks on the beach. Getting this dang knot in my neck dealt with. lol.

HOW SCHOOL IS GOING:

School is going okay. I finally got my grades put into my excel sheet, so I can begin calculating how poorly I can do on my remaining assignments and still pass. haha. This is where I stand currently with all graded assignments.

This is what I’ve calculated to keep my A’s:

And this is what I’ve calculated to pass each class with a B:

I do this every term around the end cuz I get so burned out and just want it all to be over. Normally I keep a running tally earlier in the term, but I haven’t had time to do it until now. Well, I didn’t really have the time to do it now, but I wanted to see how badly I could do and still pass. haha. I think I’ll do okay this term. Pretty sure I’ll end up with two B’s and maybe two A’s, but we’ll see. I need to get this project started for MGT 322 so I don’t entirely bomb it. But it looks like I can get 50% on it and still pass the class, so there is that.

HOW WORK IS GOING:

Things have been going okay with work. Coworker drama picked back up for a few days and I issued a solid cease and desist message on the work messaging program. Dude started texting me again, was trying to be all flirty at work, and decided it was okay to touch me at work (just my arm, nothing like what made me mad), so I sent him a clearly worded message stating none of that was okay and that it needs to stop. Made me nervous to send it, but aside from a dumb text telling me he didn’t do half of that and giving me crap for some other stuff, it has stopped again. Hopefully that all stays stopped this time.

Other than that, things are going well with Kid 2. Their family is moving soon and the house is packed up, so Kid 2 is having additional behavior problems. I’ve been bitten quite hard a few times and there has been an emergence of other new behaviors, such as licking (me, walls, chairs, toys, etc), spitting food/juice on people (so far it’s just been Kayla), and hitting. Well, I guess Kid 2 has hit before, but it’s been a long time. And kicking. Those two are rare when I work with Kid 2. Mostly it’s sitting on the floor and refusing to move (until I invade space and slowly shuffle Kid 2 along the floor) or yelling no repeatedly or pushing. We’re all working through it, though, and there seems to be progress.

I’m still pretty sad about Kid 2 moving soon. Not sure when it will be, but their house is packed up and one of the parents already has a job in the new town, so it will be soon. Hopefully not too soon, though.

HOW RUNNING IS GOING:

It’s not. My foot has been giving me troubles, so I’ve been walking sporadically over the last few weeks. Driving for so long that one weekend did something to strain my foot, so I’ve been taking it easy the last couple weeks.

WHAT BOOK I’M READING:

Yeah, I haven’t read anything in the book I wrote about in my last post, but I did read a couple chapters in The Count of Monte Cristo a few days ago. Needed a break from homework, so I read for a little while. I love that book. As cliché as it sounds, the book is so much better than the movie in 1,000 different ways. I still need to remake that video talking about the differences. Someday I will.

GOALS FOR THIS WEEK:

Reached some of my goals, but not all of them. That’s okay, though. None of these really have a deadline, so I’ll just keep these the same as before.

Fitness

Slowly increase walking pace while maintaining a distance of at least 3.1 miles

Start doing weights or resistance exercises

Do 5 regular push ups

School

Get a little ahead with homework (haha)

Work

Do better at managing Kid 2’s new behaviors

Personal

Read at least one chapter of a non-school book

Religious

Be more consistent at reading my scriptures

Read one conference talk a week

HOW I DID ON LAST WEEK’S GOALS:

Fitness

Slowly increase walking pace while maintaining a distance of at least 3.1 miles

Kinda did this, kinda didn’t. I maintained my distance, but didn’t increase my pace at all. I actually went much slower with my pace. Oh well. At least I have my distance down.

Start doing weights or resistance exercises

So, yeah, about this one. lol. I meant to do this, but life got in the way. I’ll do this at least once this week.

School

Get a little ahead with homework

I swear, every time I get a little bit ahead, life blows up and I go right back to barely keeping up. Hopefully this week will be better. 16 more days and the term is over.

Work

Get Kid 2 to the bathroom more often

I’ve actually been doing really well at this! Hooray! lol. I’ve been getting Kid 2 to the bathroom probably every 40-60 minutes, which is better than the 60-90 minutes it was before. Kid 2 doesn’t fight going into the bathroom anymore, which is helpful. Some days I’m able to hit every 30 minutes (aside from the preschool hour), which makes me happy. Still not getting every 15 minutes, but I kinda feel like that is unrealistic in a place that has as many kids as we do and just one kid bathroom.

Personal

Read at least one chapter of a non-school book

Yes! I did this! Hooray!

Religious

Be more consistent at reading my scriptures

Yeah, I’ve been struggling with this one again. I need to get back into my routine. The thing I liked about working 8-12 M-F was that I had a routine every day and a set time every day to read my scriptures. Since I only work 3 days a week now, I struggle to maintain a routine. I listen to my scriptures while getting ready for work, but on days I don’t work it tends to slip through the cracks. I will do better, though. Ooooh! I’m going to set an alarm on my phone. That will probably help.

Read one conference talk a week

I feel like this one is kind of a cheat since I read multiple conference talks to prepare my lessons. But since I don’t teach every week anymore, I’ll have to make an effort to read the weeks I don’t have a lesson to prepare for. I have done this each week, though, so hooray! lol

ISSUES/PROBLEMS/CONCERNS:

Just about having enough time this week to get all the things done that I need to. This is going to be a rough week time-wise, so I need to go to bed so I can get up early and start getting stuff done.

WHAT ELSE IS NEW:

Nothing I’m writing on here. haha.

So, I guess that’s everything. Hope everyone has a wonderful week!

5 Minute Life Update 5/27/18 This one is definitely going to be more than 5 minutes. HOW LIFE IS GOING: Things are going okay.

[tanmath3-blog]

  Richard Raven has become a cherished friend over the last several months. We have talked about his writing and books and publishing for hours. He has a delightful sense of humor and really loves his fellow writers and readers alike. I always love when he sends me his latest story to read and can highly recommend his books. He has surrounded himself with an awesome support group of friends who edit, read and sometimes make covers for him. If you don’t know him or haven’t read his stories I highly suggest that you do, you will never meet a kinder man who truly appreciates everything you do for him. Please help me welcome Richard Raven to Roadie Notes………..

  1. How old were you when you first wrote your first story?

Ten or eleven, if I remember correctly. It was an essay about little league baseball I wrote for the extra credit in class, but my teacher liked it so much that she had it published in the school newspaper. I was in my mid-thirties, and a lifetime of hell-raising already behind me, when I decided to make a serious attempt at writing. I say serious attempt, but it was mostly a pastime at first to amuse myself. It was in 1997 when, on a whim, I entered a short mystery story in a contest sponsored by a writing group based in Memphis, Tennessee and won first place and a $50 prize that I realized I truly did have the ability to write a story that someone other than me would read and enjoy. I’ve been writing, off and on, ever since. It was about six years ago that I began developing a style of writing that I felt was right for me and would one day, hopefully, make me a published author.

2. How many books have you written?

At present, I have two published novels, For The Evil Returned (horror) and His Debt To Her (a murder mystery), and two collections of shorts and novellas (all horror). These four books were published under the name Jackson Sullivan. I also have two book length manuscripts I wrote from 2004 to 2009 that I’ve never submitted. Someday, I may pull both out of the boxes I have them stored in, knock off some of the dust, bring them up to date, and see what happens.

3. Anything you won’t write about?

Courtroom dramas. Almost without exception, I find stories like this painfully dull and dreary, and it’s hard to get me to even sit through a movie involving a lot of back and forth legal wrangling. Anything else, no problem.

4. Tell me about you. Age (if you don’t mind answering), married, kids, do you have another job etc…

I’m 54, which amazes me and anyone who knew me from my late-teens right up until about the time I turned 30. During those years I traveled the country from coast to coast, border to border (sometimes not even bothering to stop at the borders), living out of a suitcase and from either a Harley-Davidson or a Trailways bus. Never married, and no kids, but there is a lady in my life. Quite a lady she is, too, in that she can put up with me on a daily basis – the only woman I’ve ever known who could do it. I’ve worked many kinds of jobs over the years but, right now, I’m trying to concentrate solely on writing.

5. What’s your favorite book you have written?

I’m happy (as happy as any writer can be) with everything I have published. Having said that, I feel my two novels are dead even as far as my favorites. Both were inspired by events that hit very close to home with me, so there is a personal connection with both stories. In the case of the murder mystery, that story stemmed from a family tragedy in which an aunt of mine died in a car crash.

6. Who or what inspired you to write?

The who, first and foremost, would have to be Stephen King and Robert R. McCammon. It was King’s IT and McCammon’s Swan Song that inspired me to write horror, and both stories remain the most incredible and moving tales I have ever read. Writers like Clive Barker, Ray Garton, James Herbert, John Everson, and Ruby Jean Jenson have also heavily influenced the kind of horror I write. The list, however, doesn’t end with these legends of the horror genre. I have read many, many different and diverse authors over the years – from Stephen Ambrose to Ken Follett to Frederick Forsyth – and they have all influenced me in some way. As far as the what, I have had a love for most of my adult life of movies (mostly horror, mysteries, and thrillers), and I’ve had the privilege of knowing many people over the years who loved nothing more than to spin an interesting tale. I still get the chance every now and then to sit and visit with someone who will gladly regal me with a story of a bygone time. I find these stories endlessly fascinating.

7. What do you like to do for fun?

Well, writing is a lot of fun, of course! When I’m not doing that, however, you can usually find me in front of the TV watching some slasher flick or a World War II spy thriller. I love the outdoors and enjoying fishing and camping, when I get the chance. I also love car and motorcycle shows, and you can usually find me on pretty Spring and Summer weekends at the local convenience story visiting with the many bikers that pass-through town on road trips or poker runs. I’m also a fanatic for hard rock music, as I’m sure everyone who knows me on Facebook or has ever seen my timeline is well aware.

8. Any traditions you do when you finish a book?

Well, one thing that has become a kind of tradition is that I like to spend some quiet time, usually alone and late at night (when I typically finish a story), during which I say goodbye to the story itself and the characters I’ve created. After all, each story and its characters have occupied my mind for days, weeks, months, and sometimes much longer than that. Case in point, I spent over fourteen months writing and polishing For The Evil Returned. When I type THE END, it takes me a little while to let go of that story and start thinking about the next one.

9. Where do you write? Quiet or music?

I have a room, a man-cave if you like, in my apartment where I write. The hundreds of books in my personal library fill that room, along with the various and minor awards I’ve won with my writing over the years, as well as autographed pictures of various bands and musicians I’ve met. My own little world, I suppose. Usually, especially if the writing is going well, it’s as silent as a tomb in that room. But if I’m hung on a plot issue or stuck for whatever reason, I always have music playing and my headphones on. Either that, or one of the many books on CD I have.

10. Anything you would change about your writing?

As far as what I write and have written, no. Of course, as is the case with every writer, I suppose, I always feel the story I’m working on could do with another polish or isn’t as perfect as I could make it. But you must finish it at some point and let go of it. For me, that can be the hardest part of the whole process. If there is one thing I wish I could change is that I started writing seriously (by that I mean with the idea of getting published) much earlier than I did.

11. What is your dream? Famous writer?

Maybe not so much to become famous (not a threat to either Mr. King or Mr. McCammon, though reaching a point in which I could make a little money would be nice), but more to be remembered as someone who, on his good days, could write a decent story. The day my first novel went live, I felt that I had finally done something positive that just might be read, appreciated and remembered long after I’m gone.

12. Where do you live?

About an hour north of Hot Springs, Arkansas in a little town that isn’t much more than an intersection for 3 state highways and 1 U.S. Highway. I’m only a few miles from Lake Nimrod, a beautiful manmade lake that stretches almost twenty miles through the valleys of the Ozark mountains. I mentioned this lake in one of my novels.

13. Pets?

Any hungry stray that shows up at the front door.

14. What’s your favorite thing about writing?

*grins fiendishly* Being the one in charge and making all the decisions. It’s incredibly fulfilling to create a character, give them an identity and personality, and decide how they will think and act in any given situation. I must admit that creating the antagonist is often the most fun. Just how bad or evil this character or that character will be often takes me to strange places in my mind, and I find myself thinking about things that have never occurred to me before. Some of the places I venture to often surprises me when I read the finished story. Writing also is an escape (and a far safer one than some I’ve lived through to tell about). Like any writer, I suppose, I lose myself in a story and, for however long a writing session lasts from day-to-day, I’m a part of that world I’m creating.

15. What is coming next for you?

I’ve had a two-volume horror novel in mind for some time now; I have a finished first draft of book one and recently began work on book two. It’s proving to be an ambitious project, and I hope it will become my third published novel, this time under the name of Richard Raven. I have a possible fourth novel that is still in the planning and outlining stages that I hope to turn into a horror trilogy or maybe even a series. I have also been writing some long novella, short novel length stories of 18,000 to 25,000 words that I hope will be the first Richard Raven collection and paperback.

16. Where do you get your ideas?

Inspiration is where you find it, and ideas can come from anything, at any time. Something I read, see in a movie, hear in a song, or it could be something someone says to me. A few of the short stories I’ve written are based in part on personal experiences, but always with a twist or two straight out of my imagination. I’ve never had a shortage of or a problem getting ideas. Sometimes they come to me fully formed and it’s only a matter of writing the story in a moment of true inspiration. Often, though, something will come to me and I can see a possible story, but the idea takes time to come together. It can take days, weeks, even months before it fully forms to the point in which I’ll start writing the story.

I would like to remind everyone that I’ve just released my fourth Richard Raven eBook short on Amazon. There is also, of course, that short, In A Blood Red Haze, that made it into the Devils 2 anthology from HellBound Books, and it shares space with some excellent stories from a group of fantastic writers. I also have three other shorts submitted to other anthologies, including one I hope will grace the pages of another collection from HellBound Books. I also have a fourth short that another publishing house invited me to write for an anthology they are putting together, and it’s due out some time after the first of the year. There is also a fifth short I was invited to write for a private anthology, and I’ve decided to co-write this story with a lady who has a lot of untapped talent. I wish I could, but I’m not at liberty to reveal any more about either of these projects right now. The official word will be coming soon on both. It is my hope that there will be no shortage of Richard Raven stories for those desiring to read them. Lastly, thanks to you, Becky, for this chance, and I’ve enjoyed doing this. Spooky reading, everyone!  

You can connect with Richard Raven here: 

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorRichardRaven/

https://www.amazon.com/Richard-Raven/e/B0759WXYHV

https://www.facebook.com/AuthorJacksonSullivan/

https://www.amazon.com/His-Deadly-Fascination-Richard-Raven-ebook/dp/B075GJT5PF/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1509489895&sr=8-4&keywords=richard+raven+ebooks&dpID=61W9dORGcJL&preST=_SY445_QL70_&dpSrc=srch

  Some of Richard Raven’s books: 

Getting personal with Richard Raven Richard Raven has become a cherished friend over the last several months. We have talked about his writing and books and publishing for hours.

[dmmowers]

You made us equal

 "You Made Us Equal"

A sermon for St. John the Baptist Episcopal Church, Portage, Wis., and Trinity Episcopal Church, Baraboo, Wis. XVI Sunday after Pentecost | Proper 20 | Year A, Track 2 | September 24, 2017 Jonah 3:10-4:11 | Psalm 145:1-8 | Philippians 1:21-30 | Matthew 20:1-16

I was inspired to retell this parable thanks to the lovely retelling in Robert Farrar Capon's lovely book Kingdom, Grace, Judgment: Paradox, Outrage and Vindication in the Parables of Jesus. My retelling intentionally tracks his for much of the way, though changes many details to locate the retelling in Baraboo and Portage.

Jesus told stories like the one we read in today's gospel as a way to ask the reader, "What if the world was like this?" Now that Jesus had come, what had changed about the world? When we hear parables now, they are often so familiar that we miss their point. Other times, they are not familiar at all; because they come from a different time and place, it's hard to figure out what the point of the parable is. So this morning, I'm going to try to blast through both that familiarity and that foreignness by retelling the parable with a twist.

What if the world was like the owner of a vineyard whose alarm was blaring away at 5 a.m? Our vineyard owner had been in business in the sandy soil south of the Baraboo range in Sauk County for many years. He was respected in his community, prosperous in business, a local celebrity even, known all over for treating workers fairly and kindly. We'll call him Charles Shaw. 

In a couple decades of winemaking, Charles Shaw had never seen a weather forecast turn bad quite as quickly as this one. It was late September and the weather had been unseasonably warm for several weeks. And then, late last night, the 10-day forecast suddenly changed. Instead of showing that the warm weather would continue on, now the forecast suddenly showed cold nights coming in two days. The weather service had issued a frost advisory. It was Friday, frost was coming overnight Saturday and in the meantime, there were hundreds of vines that needed their big, beautiful grapes of deep purple cut from vines and put carefully in buckets so that they could be covered up inside before the killing frost came. 

So Charles was in the truck before 6am, heading up the bluff on Highway 113 through Devil's Lake, then slipping the clutch into neutral as he passed Tower Rd and coasting halfway down to town. When he pulled into the employment agency, he got out of his truck and stood looking at the sign. Under the name of the agency, the sign had space for whatever job was available that day. All summer, it had read "Palletizing, $14/hour". But this morning, it said, "Harvesting Grapes, $125/day." It seems that Mr. Wollersheim and Mr. Von Klaus had also seen the weather forecast, and so getting workers was going to be more expensive than usual. He told the people at the employment agency that he would pay $200 for the day. They pointed him towards a row of men waiting to be hired. He gave them the pitch: I'm Charles Shaw, I'm a wine producer who is pretty famous, and I'm fair and I'll pay you a good wage for an honest day's work. And I'll beat what Wollersheim and Baraboo Bluffs will pay you. The men stood and followed Charles out to the parking lot, where his foreman had turned up with the winery's bus.

As he watched the bus leave, he checked his phone. There was a new weather alert, and it was trouble. There was still a frost advisory, but instead of being for tomorrow night, it had been moved back -- to Friday, to tonight. He looked at his watch. By the time he got back to the vineyard, it would be nearly 9am already. Just then two cars full of workers turned up at the agency. As they were getting out of their cars, Charles hung up the phone. He told them that he was Charles Shaw, the famous Baraboo winemaker, and that he would pay them what was fair if they just got back in their cars and went straight to his vineyard to pick grapes all day. He followed them back to the vineyard and through the morning watched their progress. By late morning, he knew he needed more help. He went back to the employment agency, and they made some calls. They reached some more people and told them to go directly to the vineyard. Charles grabbed lunch, and called his foreman from the Culver's parking lot. The people the employment agency sent over had showed up, but they were still way behind. He looked for a couple more hours, and about 3 o'clock, he went to Menard's, and found a few guys loitering in trucks in the parking lot. They had been there to try to get that work that morning, but no one had hired them. Charles was getting good at his pitch: "I'm Charles Shaw, the winemaker. I treat my people fairly, and I live in town, so you'd have heard about me if I didn't. If you go out to my vineyard and help us try to get the grape harvest in this afternoon, I'll make sure you get taken care of." So they went.

The day was getting on, the cold front was only hours away. Charles went back out to the vineyard to look over progress with his foreman, and the news wasn't good. They needed more workers. Charles was getting desperate. He tore over the bluff with his foot on the gas all the way back to town. Tires squealed. The truck shuddered. The employment agency had closed. Many of the businesses downtown had closed. There weren't many people around. He was driving around the square when he saw them. They were on the steps of the courthouse, music blaring from their phones as they smoked e-cigarettes and talked loudly. They were probably in their teens and twenties, but they all looked like they were in their thirties. There were lots of tattoos and piercings. They didn't look like vineyard workers, but Charles Shaw was facing ruin. They got quiet and incredulous as he started to give them the spiel.  "I need workers in my vineyard to get the harvest in before the frost comes tonight. If you come and work for an hour, I'll treat you fairly." He stopped talking. They just stared at him in silence. Finally a couple of them looked at each other and said, "Probably buy us a couple of six packs for tonight, right?" They all jumped into a couple of broken down cars and started for the vineyard.

When they arrived, they did the same thing that all of the other late-arriving workers did when they arrived at the vineyard throughout that day. They compared notes with the people who had been working all day, and that was when they found out that Charles Shaw, famous for treating his workers well, had indeed promised to pay them very well. The first workers were promised $200 for the day, so the ones who came later figured they would make $150, $100, $50 and, finally, the group of courthouse loiterers would make $25. Charles Shaw had said that he was going to pay them a fair wage, but even as the last group started clipping grapes from vines, they were already thinking about how they were getting something for almost nothing. They had already spent their $25 in their heads.

And what do you know, when Charles finally got back to the vineyard after rounding up the workers, the last few vines were being harvested, their grapes being safely carried inside. He told his foreman to ring the bell in the dooryard of the farm to call the workers in. Before the foreman left, Charles said to him, "Hey, don't worry about the pay envelopes. I'll fill them myself. Oh, and also -- I want to have some fun in handing out the money. Send the last group to me first. 

You could identify the hard-living, late-arriving young people coming up through the vineyard by following the cloud of e-cigarette smoke coming up the rows of grape vines. When they got to the office, he handed them their envelopes. They looked in them, and realized that there was a lot more than $25. They all said thank you, and hurriedly turned and walked back down the rows of vines to get back to their cars. They knew there had been some mistake, so the goal was to make a run for it without being too obvious about it. But they slowed down enough to tell the other workers that they were really dumb for working a whole day for $200 when Charles Shaw had just paid them all $200 for an hour's work. They got in their cars and left. But the workers who remained chattered to each other. If the people who came in their rust bucket cars made $200, then that must mean that he was so happy with everyone's performance that he was now paying $200 an hour. The remaining workers started adding up what they had earned, realizing that were going to get $400, $800, $1200 and -- bless you, Charles Shaw -- $1600. 

But it wasn't to be. When they went up the rows of grapes to the house, all of them got ten $20 bills in their envelope. And that's where the trouble started. The last workers to come in, the ones who had been there all day, collected their envelopes and realized that they didn't get $1600, but only the $200 that everyone else got. They had been out there all day, and they got paid exactly the same thing that the people who only worked the last hour got paid. A couple of them angrily confronted Charles. "How can you make those people equal to us? We were out here all day! It was hot! And you gave those slackers from the courthouse square the same reward as what we got!"

Charles Shaw says, "Friend," but the word that he uses in Greek sounds like a distinctly unfriendly word for friend -- something more like "Dude", or "Buster". "Now look here, Buster. I offered you a very generous day's pay. I'm not doing you any wrong by making other people equal to you - we're all on the same team at this vineyard. When I'm happy, I make everybody happy. This is all my money, and if I choose to give my money to a bunch of broken down, tatted up meth heads in leather pants, what's that to you? Or does my generosity make you generous. So take your money and get out of here before I call the cops. And on your way out, go through the tasting room and get yourself a nice Riesling on the house, or don't, and go to hell." 

Jesus uses parables to tell us what the world is like now that he has come into it. He began and ended this parable with the line that "the last will be first, and the first will be last." What his first followers would have heard was that the people of Israel had been at work in the vineyard all day, but soon the Gentiles would be called to work only the final hour. 

Some weeks ago, I was at a meeting of pastors when a conversation broke out between 3 or 4 others about how many people show up at their churches and agencies looking for financial assistance. I was interested in the conversation, because we get our share of assistance calls here too. But as I listened, the conversation slid into cynicism and exhaustion, into a kind of judgment that made these pastors look righteous. At the time, I could only say that I grew more uncomfortable the more I listened to the conversation, but in the time since, I've realized that these people who were calling for assistance were the last workers hired. They were the workers who we want so desperately to think that we are better than. They are the people we pretend not to notice on the street, they are prisoners who our society treats as less than fully human, they are the residents of Swanson's Motel, they are losers. Many of those who are last will be first. 

I don't know about the rest of you, but I am a winner, and I feel judged by this parable. And that is precisely the point. For those of us who were called by God a long time ago, those of us here this morning who go out each week to work in God's vineyard, the challenge is not just to change our attitudes about the workers who come at the last hour. The challenge is to continually notice and welcome the presence of the Holy Spirit in our lives so that our lives get broken open and these losers find us as their friends. It’s not just about shaking hands with newcomers at church, though that’s not a bad start. It’s about allowing broken, hurting people to interrupt us. To interrupt us in the middle of our lives when we’ve got a meeting at 1 and an appointment at 3 and really no time for that neighbor or that person in our grocery store or someone else. It’s about allowing folks to interrupt us, to ask for help, and to have us help him. And not that we would do it grudgingly, not that we would do it while we tap on our watch, but that we would do it because they are in the vineyard that God has given us to work in.  We do it because in Jesus Christ, losers just like us are given fat pay envelopes that we don't deserve.

[mortenwrites-blog]

2.2

The drive back seemed, for some reason, to go by a bit faster than last time. The other times he went all this way, the way back had been even slower, sluggish and tiresome. Although Daan was tired, he was now at least a bit hopefull about Monday. If Nataly could send him something to work on, he could at least start doing why he moved here in the first place: design sounds.

Daan is a sound designer, one of those guys working for television or game companies to make sounds out of nothing. Monsters, leaves rustling, complete ambiences that make you believe something (or better someplace) is alive. He loved his job, since he could make a lifeless video seem to be full of action only by adding sound.

The bad part though was that the producers he had worked for did not always have a particular thought-out plan of what they wanted. That left him with a big open space for his creativity to work. But he needed something. If they made a movie about ponies, creating all

these laserbeam sounds was fun but also highly inefficient.

The last few weeks were as inefficient. Not knowing what to do, make or design left him feeling as if he didn’t really know what he was doing here, in England. At least with Nataly trying now, he might get some foothold in the wonderfull world of what he liked to call “the producer’s mind”.

He turned on the radio. The news spoke about a ridiculous situation in a shopping mall where apparently a man had tried to rob a store using a stiffened sock for a pistol. After this whole day of basically doing not much at all, Daan wondered who had spent his time better. Then came the weather forecast, which was the same as the last few days: rain, with a chance of more rain. After this a new song from a semi-popular band came on and he quickly turned of the radio again.

After the first two hours of driving, he left the highway and started making his way over a twisty road towards the little village where he had found the pub. The road became smaller and houses started to appear on either side. He drove towards a little square and parked his car by a somewhat bigger house, built out of white stone and with a black tiled roof. Over the door hung a sign, “Padry’s”. As he walked in, an older man stumbled out.

Drunkenly, he looked up at Daan and went: ‘Pardonme young sir, I did not by the slightest meant to walk into you.’

‘Well… You didn’t sir.’

‘Ohhhhhh…. But I will. You’ll see.’

And without much of an effort to walk around him, he started moving forward, knocking against Daans shoulder and stumbling on towards a countryroad on the other side of the square, quietly mumbling something that sounded like “Sons…”

Daan scratched his head for a second, decided it was best not to linger on the thought of the old man walking all the way home (he had probably done that enough times to make his way back with his eyes closed) and walked into the pub.

Behind the bar he expected to find the same, big, man that was the barkeeper. Instead he found a young man, quite tall and with a build that would have you think of a builder. The boy could only be the son of the regular barkeep, he thought. He sat down and when the young lad looked at him he said: ‘A pint of Guiness and the menu, please.’

‘Sure thing.’

‘Is your father ill?’

‘Aye, my father is in bed with fever. Haven’t seem him like that in ages.’

‘So he asked you to take over the pub?’

‘Nah, he wanted to keep it closed, but I offered to take his spot for now. I’m Jake.’

Daan reached over the counter and shook the guys hand: ‘Daan.’

‘Oh, your that Dutch fellow my old man was talking about! Said you came here three weeks in a row asking for a menu at exactly the same time.’

Funny, how people remember you if you’re not from here. ‘Yeah, I guess that will be me.’

‘Allright, I’ll get you a menu. Don’t go all fancy on me though. My cooking skills are not the same as my fathers.’

And with that he went to the kitchen to get the menu, probably one of the two only copies they had. When he returned he gave Daan a freshly printed A4 piece of paper with very simply, in large letters, written on there what they had. The dish of the day was potato soup with 3 slices of bread and some cheese.

‘I’ll take the dish of the day.’

‘Allright then, give me two minutes.’ And he went of into the kitchen again.

Daan looked around. Despite the pub being small, it seemed like you could still fit a lot of people in there in a comfortable manner. Wooden chairs and tables where dropped all over the room in a way that would have you think it would be impossible for a drunk man to find a toilet. Yet, it was as clean as clean in a pub would go and the tables weren’t sticky with spilled beer. They were however beaten. Age had probably made them see many a card game, together with maybe the occasional but rare barfight and plenty of drinking. The old man staggering outside was only a small hint to the age of the pub. Daan could only think of the young boy he once would’ve been, drinking his first (or maybe second) ever beer here. On the television in one of the corners close by the ceiling, a rugby match was being aired. Daan did not have the slightest clue about rugby, but liked the way the sport was played. Really different from soccer, which in his eyes had become nothing more than very well paid theaterwork. Other than that, he only saw a team in blue and a team in red, but could not tell which two they would be.

Jake came back from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup.

‘I’ll get you the bread in a bit. I was not made to carefully carry a bowl of soup.’

‘Don’t worry. What do you normally do for a living?’

‘I build houses. Not those big projects in the cities though. Small projects, mostly private stuff for people living in the countryside.’

‘I see, plenty of work around here I suppose?’

‘Right now? Yeah, quite a bit. There’s plenty of people who are sick of living in a city and want to come over to the countryside. Let’s hope they don’t all get that plan, I like the calm villages you still have over here.’

‘Then how come you were able to take over your fathers spot for now?’

‘I was done for the day. We were waiting on a delivery of wood, but that one ended up not being delivered at all. As if they couldn’t have told us sooner.’

Daan had to chuckle at that one. ‘Oh, believe me. People just forget about it. Or think they will make it still…’

‘Well, I guess thats true. Hate them for it though. I’ll get your bread and cheese, before that delivery is late as well.’

‘Thanks.’

Daan took the first spoon of soup. It was good. Not as good as what he had eaten here the last three times, but still very decent and a lot better than what he could do. He was a terrible chef. Simple things were o.k., mostly, but if there was an opportunity to eat somewhere else where it was about the same price as making a meal for himself he would do it. That sometimes meant fastfood, but overall he regarded his diet as pretty good. Sitting there in that pub, he suddenly realised this was one of those small things he had looked forward to. Drinking a pint and eating something in a small English countryside pub, on his way back home. It struck him as if the spoonful of soup had suddenly made him five years older.

And after this whole day of waiting and doing nothing, that one bowl of soup and one pint of beer made him feel more at home than all of those other things could.

[talldarknsexy]

Panamá: Way of the Road

Crossing the border from Costa Rica, the road gradually got much more rural, the terrain got much hillier, and the houses became bamboo and wooden huts. By evening I still hadn't seen much for food and stopped at a tiny tienda. Picked out a glamorous meal of ground sardines and a can of beans. I asked the shop owner if there was a place around here I could camp. "No" he said sharply. "A yard, a field, a church?... Anything in that direction?" I asked. "No" he said. I thanked him for nothing and walked out to my bike. There was about a half a dozen people standing, watching, staring as I saddled up. I also ran into these kind of circumstances alot in Guatemala where there is also a very significant indigenous population. And I have to say it sometimes makes me feel like a very unwanted guest. Right at sunset, out of nowhere, I came across a nicely constructed house and asked to camp in their yard. Soft grass, super nice family- would reccomend. The next day, I had a short ride to a Warmshowers host by the name of Charlie. Charlie turned out to be in his 70's and was in the midst of constructing a hostel, running his fruit tree farms, and rebuilding some old machines. Charlie had lived a pretty colorful life back in the 60's and 70's riding the wave of hallucinogenic drugs all the way from the states through Mexico and Central America. He had stories of meeting Timothy Leary, various musicians, and many others. Assuming a portion of Charlie's stories are true, I was thoroughly impressed and entertained. The next day, I passed by Charlie's farm where he was working. He treated me to even more organic coconuts, pineapple, avocado, and sugar cane juice. Luxuries in America, but all of which he had too much to know what to do with. He'd been declining my offers to help out, but I did let him trade his machete for mine that he'd been eyeing. The road that day took me back over the continental divide and involved about 4k feet of climbing. But, the sugar cane juice in particular was like fucking rocket-fuel. Midday, in a remote area while I was pushing my bike up a particularly steep section, a farmer and I shared a greeting. He then asked me in fairly fluid English if I was "enjoying my exercise." He went on to point out the mountain he climbs every day to tend his crops. I've never met a farmer who knew any semblance of English, especially in remote Panama, so of course I inquired as to how... "Cable Television!" he exclaimed with a big, toothless smile . I reached a hostel called Lost and Found at the top of the divide. It involved another kilometer through a jungle path with plenty of complimentary stone stairs, mosquitos, and cursing. The hostel was definitely worth it though. The view looked out on the Panamanian mountains and it was like looking down on Jurassic Park. I tried to party that night as it was July 4th, but honestly, there were too many Americans at the bar. Or, more specifically, Californians. And maybe I was too sober, or have already spent too long abroad, but the accent and attitude just sounded too abrasive to me. The next day was my first full day off the bike in over a week. That day I went with a German and an Australian to a river canyon with some cliff jumping. And that afternoon I told my bike saddle to get bent and put my ass in a hammock instead. It was a cruise back down to the Pacific coast and I made it to a sleepy little surf town of Las Lajas. The hostel was named Johnny Fiestas. I was a little dismayed to discover there was no Johnny nor a fiesta there at the time. There was the manager, Darrio, and his lady-friend Julia. They were both a lot of fun and so for the first time in my life, I insisted on buying the "whole bar" a round. Dario was an Afro-American/Italian from Luxembourg. He knew about 5 different languages and was as laid back as the Hermes character from Futurama. Julia left that next day and Dario graciously accepted my offer to volunteer there through the weekend as they were booked up. I've found volunteering is pretty typical for backpackers in Latin America. It's usually at least a month commitment working for 4-6 hours a day in exchange for a free stay and 1-3 meals. It sounds great at first, but I usually dismiss the idea as in this part of the world that equates to $2-$4/hr. This was a very small and relaxed spot though, and I spent most of my time swinging in a hammock. If there were guests I'd be behind the bar serving drinks, which I love doing anyways... Hell I did it plenty for free in college. The rest of the day you'd find me strolling the beach, hacking open coconuts, or (something resembling) surfing. It was a fun, refreshing, and intoxicated, vacation within a vacation. I said my goodbyes to all the good folks there and rode out of town. Very refreshed, but not super excited for the next three/four days of highway riding down the mundane Panamerican highway. My bottom bracket ate a big turd on the first day and I knew I'd have to shell out at least a pretty penny in Panama City. I spent the first night camped behind the business of a nice family that invited me to dinner. The second with bomberos, and the third camped at a hostel in a surf town that was housing solely me, two Dutch girls and a pair of rabbis from Australia. One of the younger bomberos at the station was looking for some help with his English homework. I am always very grateful for the patience of Latinos to help me with my Spanish, so of course I jumped at the opportunity. We were making some progress and I looked up how to translate a word to Spanish. He asked about the Google Translate app and I showed him some of the features, including how you can use the phone's camera to visually translate text. He immediately downloaded the app, closed his book, and ecstatically thanked me. I suddenly realized what I'd done, but it was too late. I did plead with him to only use it as a tool and to focus on actually learning the language. He was so incredibly thankful... But the damage was already done. The last day was an exhausting leg slowly entering the huge city of Panama. The last bit of my central America voyage was a very unceremonious struggle over the kilometer long bridge over the Panama canal. Traffic was whizzing by and there was no shoulder. I found a really nice hostel where I hung out for the weekend. It felt crazy to have gone from the indigenous poblados consisting of bamboo jungle huts in the north Carribean to the largest city in central America, abound with towering skycrapers and department stores. I spent a day boxing my bike and another visiting the canal. Leaving central America was fairly unceremonious, but reflecting on it I've got very strong feelings. It was a very diverse region with a lot to offer. Of the places I've traveled, I had some of the best experiences there, along with some of the most trying. Sometimes being there after a while, things become ordinary. I got used to arguing about my change with the 8 year old cashiers in tiendas. Ringing the immense amount of sweat out of my clothes was commonplace as was smearing them with deoderant. One day, climbing in Panama, my shorts got so wet and hot that my camera took 384 pictures of the inside of my pocket and tried making several emergency calls. Details like these I won't easily miss. But, I will miss the fun excursions in the lush jungle of volcanoes and waterfalls, the diversity of food and culture, and the farmer who pops his head out of his crops to give me a big toothless smile and wave. It's been a blast, but keen to see what South America has in store for me.