#top 10 california foods

[fratboykate]

I'm totally in support of the writers in theory but I'm trying to understand more of what you're fighting for because I've seen some people on twitter claim writers make more money a week than most of us make in a month so I'm trying to understand what the issue is. Also if that info is accurate. This is a genuine question. Not trying to have a "gotcha moment". I really want to hear from a writer.

people have always had wild misconceptions about how much a writer earns because of their lack of understanding of how the industry actually works. there's so many posts about how "you guys make 5k a week. what more do you want?!" yeah...let's do some math on that.

5k a week for 14 weeks (and that's a long room. a lot of rooms these days are 8-10 weeks. those are the dreaded mini-rooms we're trying to kill) is $70,000. for roughly three months of work. you'd think we're cooking with gas...BUT HOLD UP. that's gross! let's see everything that has to come out of that check:

10% to our agent

10% to our manager

5% to our entertainment attorney

5% to our business manager (not everyone has one but a lot of us do. i do, so that's literally 30% immediately off the top of every check)

most of these breakdowns ive seen downplay taxes severely. someone made one that says writers pay 5% in taxes and i would like to ask them "in what universe?". that doesn't even cover state taxes. the way taxes work in the industry is really complicated, but the short of it is most of us have companies for tax reasons so we aren't taxed like people on w2s/1099. if we did we'd be even more fucked. basically every production hires a writer's company instead of the writer as an individual. so they engage our companies for our services and then at the end of the year we (the company) pay taxes as corporations or llcs (depending on what the writer chose to go with). my company is registered as a "corporation" so let's go with those rates. california's corporate rate is 9% and the federal corporate tax rate is 21%. there's other expenses with running a business like fees and other shit so my business managers/accountants/bookkeepers have recommended i save between 35-40% of everything i make for when tax season comes.

you see where the math is at already??? 25-30% in commissions and then 35-40% in taxes. on the lower end you're at THE VERY LEAST looking at 60% of that check gone. 70% worst case scenario. suddenly those $70,000 people claim we make are actually down to $28,000 as the take home pay. and that's if you're only losing 60%. it goes down to $21,000 if it's 70%.

lets pretend you worked a long 14 week room (that's the longest room ive ever worked btw) and let's also be generous and say you only have 60% in expenses so the take home is $28,000. average rent in los angeles is around $2,800-$3,000. if you're paying $2,800 in rent that means you need AT LEAST $4,000 a month to have a semi decent life since you need to also cover groceries, gas, medical expenses, toiletries, phone, internet, utilities, rental and car insurances, car payments, student loan payments, etc etc etc. and again, this is los angeles. everything is more expensive so you're living BARE BONES on 4k. and these are numbers as a single person. im not even taking having children into account. so those $28,000 you take home might cover your life for 6-7 months. 3 of which you're in the room working. the reality is that once that room ends, you might not work in a room again for 6-9-12 months (i have friends whose last jobs were over 18 months ago) and you now only have about 3 months left of savings to hold you over. we have to make that money stretch while we do all the endless free development we do for studios and until we get our next paying job. so...3 months left of enough money to cover your expenses -> possible 9 months of not having a job. this is how writers end up on food stamps or applying to work at target.

this is why we're fighting for better rates and better residuals. residuals were a thing writers used to rely on to get them through the unemployment periods. residual checks have gone down from 20k to $0.03 cents. im not joking.

they've decimated our regular pay and then destroyed residuals. we have nothing left. so don't believe it when they tell you writers are being greedy. writers are simply fighting to be able to make a middle class living. we're not asking them to become poor for our sake. we're asking for raises that amount to 2% of their profit. TWO PERCENT. this is a fight for writing even being a career in five years instead of something you do on the side while you work retail to pay your bills. if you think shows are bad now imagine when your writer has to do it as a hobby because they need a real job to pay their bills and support a family. (which none of us can currently afford to have btw)

support writers. stop being bootlickers for billion dollar corporations. stop caring about fictional people more than you care about the real people that write them. if we don't win this fight it truly is game over. the industry as you know it is gone.

[neptuneiris]

Cruel Summer (01/10)

Sunset's Bay

pairing: modern!aemond × fem!reader

summary: There are two sides to the city of Sunset's Bay, the rich who live in 'Crown's' and the poor who live in 'Black Waves'. What happens when a rich guy and a poor girl meet and inevitably fall in love? In the city where they live and with their status, that can't be possible.

words: 5.8k

series masterlist • next part

I wasn't sure about posting this but if you like the story I will continue with it, it all depends on how you receive it😬

in case you like it, I want to advance that the story will be a kind of forbidden love by the fact of rich and poor hehe and I have a lot prepared, basically everything is already written, I just need to structure it in a better way

this has only been an introduction to the world of Sunset's Bay, so I hope you enjoy it and the warnings will be added as I post the chapters if you like it🤗

so enjoy!

Sunset's Bay.

The hidden but mostly inhabited beach on the California Coast, with golden and white sands that slide into crystal clear waters of such a deep blue that it seems infinite.

According to Google, it is one of the most beautiful beaches in Northern California and where teenagers living in surrounding cities yearn to come every time a new summer begins.

Sunset and sunrise on these waters are beautiful, as they transform the horizon into a palette of vibrant colors, from warm shades of gold and pink to soft purple and the deep blue of night.

Every summer, the beach comes alive with exciting surfing tournaments, as well as Sunset's Pier, the midpoint of the beach where everyone mingles, transforms into charity events with live music, fireworks and lamp shows that illuminate the night with a mesmerizing light show.

Boat and yacht rides add a touch of sophistication to the coastal scene. This allows tourists to explore the waters beyond the beach, visit small islands up close and enjoy the serenity of the open sea.

But on top of all that, everything is meticulously maintained, most of it, like the clean, spacious beaches, adorned by palm trees swaying gently in the sea breeze.

And your favorite section, the volcanic stone cliffs that are distributed in specific locations on the beach, offering rocky walls as you sit on the seashore behind you and all around, emerging as natural guardians of the beach.

And from their heights, you can take in panoramic views of all the beauty of the landscape, encompassing the vast endless ocean and coastline to the endless horizon.

You always looked forward to coming here as a child when a new term at school ended and your mother was always willing to come and spend the vacations with your relatives, the Blackwoods.

They always welcomed you and your mother and together with your cousin Alysanne, you had an amazing summer.

Ever since you were little, you have always been tattooed with the memory of the sand on your feet, the salt air in your nostrils, the water enveloping you completely and the sun in full sunset caressing your whole face as you watched it on the horizon starting to descend on the shore of the beach with the cliffs behind you.

And now, that's all you know, a life in Sunset's and your frequent days at the beach.

Living with your aunt and uncle and Alysanne in a house big enough to also make room for you on the beach shore, this has been your home for exactly a year now.

And now summer has begun.

"Sam has sent a message."

You raise your gaze to Alysanne as you finish cleaning one of the tables.

"He says to meet him at the beach with the others in the evening. Do you want to go?"

You place a small smile on your lips.

"Sure."

"Table nine!"

You both turn your heads toward your boss, who looks at both of you as if he wants to kill you at any moment, and you quickly rush to serve the food, briefly wiping the sweat from your brow to keep working.

"Hurry up, Blackwood," Mr. Frey tells you reluctantly as you begin to pick up the orders on the tray.

You let out a long breath and glance at the clock briefly before going to serve, realizing that you will have to put up with this for four more hours and for the rest of the summer as well.

Unfortunately you and Alysanne have to work, as it has been for some months now at a seafood restaurant where the 'rich' people from this side of the city come to enjoy the delicious food.

And because of the summer, the work has increased. But that doesn't stop them both from having fun now that summer has begun.

So as soon as you and Alysanne finish your shift, you head home as soon as possible and start getting ready to meet your friends at the beach.

Previously going out and having fun was a problem for Alysanne's parents, your aunt and uncle were not the liberal type, but as soon as you both started working and helping them with the household expenses with what you could, they started to be more permissive and understanding.

And this is your home, the less ostentatious side of the city, but still genuine.

Once you join Sam and all the boys on the beach, you head for the small boat floating near the shore.

It is not a luxurious boat, much less can it be compared to a boat or yacht of the latest model, but it is a modest boat that has seen many summer seasons.

And it has taken them all to many spots on the beach and you have shared many anecdotes on it.

And as the boat glides through the calm waters, you and Alysanne enjoy the laughter and stories shared by the boys from the neighborhood, Sam, Daniel and Chase.

The three of them have been childhood friends of Alysanne's and when you came to live with her officially, she introduced you to them and now you all have formed a group of friends where you enjoy afternoons like these with Sam's boat and where you also go swimming and surfing all together.

The sea breeze caresses your faces and the sun slowly begins to descend as it paints the sky in warm golden tones, until the afternoon turns into night.

And on the beach, with a campfire in the center, the starry sky above and all together in a circle, you start burning marshmallows and drinking beer.

"And tell us..." speaks Daniel, watching you both curiously, "How about the slave life for the rich people?"

You and your cousin let out a small laugh.

"Slaves?" you repeat amused.

"Well yeah, come on, you said your boss... what's his name? Grey? Payne?"

"Frey," Alysanne corrects him.

"Yeah, that," he points to her, "He's a jerk or not?"

"And no concept of patience and prudence," you add.

"I imagine the ones who eat there are worse, no?" asks Chase.

Daniel snaps his fingers at him.

"Lannister?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. Jason Lannister has that vibe."

"I put him in the top one of the most hated, along with the Baratheons. And I have a feeling the Arryns do too, I don't know why," Daniel again looks at you both, "Right?"

"You work for them," Alysanne tells him amused, "Don't you know that?"

"Well, it's not like they can tell me much for cleaning their boats and yachts but... no–they're extremely nice, though..." he holds up his finger with a thoughtful expression, "Though I think there must be something wrong with them."

Alysanne lets out a snort.

"They're rich and live at Crown's, practically owning all the establishments on the beach just like the Lannisters, Baratheons, Tyrells and others leaving nothing for us, the poor ones, because they despise us," she says with an ironic but true tone "Of course there must be something wrong with them."

"One time one of them didn't leave me a tip," you say, remembering, "The Tyrell's."

Sam looks at you amused.

"Tips are not obligatory."

"Oh come on," you retort, with a touch of irony, "They're rich, they can have yachts and mansions, but can't they at least give me a five percent tip?"

"Yet it's not obligatory."

Everyone lets out a laugh.

"Yeah, it's not the nicest place to work and the customers aren't necessarily nice but the pay is good, after all," Alysanne says as she shrugs.

And that's true.

Even though it's not a good work environment, the necessity is what makes you not quit and endure as much as you can. Even though your aunt and uncle are taking care of you and taking responsibility for you, you know you can't continue that way forever.

You want to be independent, pay for your own things, especially you want to pay for college, but to do that, you have to work and now this is the job.

Besides it's useless to find work elsewhere when the owners are still the same; rich and arrogant. And you can't find work on your side of the city because the pay won't be much or maybe they won't even hire because they can't afford it.

But right now, being here enjoying the summer with your friends and your cousin, you allow yourself not to think about it and just continue to criticize the rich people.

And after many cans of beer, Chase picks up his guitar and you all together start singing in the most off-key and horrible way possible, laughing amongst everyone with the jokes filling the air, just like the heat of the flames and the aroma of roasting marshmallows.

"You had a party and didn't invite me!?"

Almost everyone together turns their heads unexpectedly toward the approaching outside voice laden with amusement and mild reproach.

And then they all see Cregan Stark with a huge grin and a bottle of beer in hand.

The guys soon start showing off at the mere sight of him, making jokes and greeting him with great enthusiasm, as Cregan greets them.

And you just watch Alysanne with a sly smile, amused by Cregan's sudden appearance, but of course, she quickly hides all traces of whatever her reaction is to seeing him, adjusting her expression to one of neutrality as she tries to appear disinterested.

But you know.

And you're amused at how she acts as if you don't know her.

Cregan Stark is the spoiled son of one of the wealthiest families in Sunset's, living in one of the most exclusive areas on the Crown's side.

His appearance reflects his status; brand name clothes, really expensive accessories, late model car and an attitude that denotes familiarity with luxury. However, despite his wealth, Cregan has proven to be different from other boys in his social environment.

Although he has access to all the luxuries, he does not carry with him the air of superiority and arrogance that many would expect from someone like him and that those of his class usually display.

In fact, Cregan became friends with Chase, who works for his family in the ports.

And it was Chase who introduced him to the group and although at first no one felt confident with him, Cregan instead of imposing his status, imposed a genuine and friendly demeanor that won the friendship of everyone in the circle.

Later everyone understood that he doesn't really enjoy being with people from the same environment as himself. The wealthy teenagers he usually hung out with, for the most part, were overly judgmental and arrogant.

So thanks to Chase, he found company with all of you, the guys from across the city who don't have a mansion and all the money in the world, but who are genuine and free of pretense.

Despite the looks people give Cregan for not understanding his choice of company, he deliberately ignores them. His parents don't say anything to him either, although he says they clearly prefer that he stop interact with you.

"I am deeply, intensely and extremely offended," he says expressing mock indignation, holding a hand to his chest, watching you incredulously but amused.

"Come on, man, don't get dramatic," Chase tells him giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"Yeah, we're just getting warmed up," Sam encourages him.

"Besides..." says Daniel, in an exaggerated tone, "We can't send messages across the beach, us poor people have to use carrier pigeons like the olden days to get anything to you, but guess what... we're so poor we can't even afford pigeons."

Everyone lets out a laugh, enjoying Daniel's humor in implying the differences between the poor and the rich on the beach.

"Stop, seriously, why didn't you guys tell me you were doing this?" Cregan asks, taking a seat on the logs.

"I heard there's a party on your side of the beach and I figured you'd be heading over there," Chase tells him, "Which you did, didn't you?" he points to the beer in his hand.

He lets out a long breath.

"Yeah but it was pretty fucking boring."

"Boring?" you repeat incredulously, "A party with a DJ, champagne and yachts I highly doubt is boring."

"Well, not that it wasn't fun," he says looking around and observing everyone, "But I wanted this, to be with you guys, the atmosphere."

"And how did you know we were here?" asks Alysanne curious.

"I didn't exactly know," he smiles at her, "So I just decided to come and try my luck."

"Oh man, stop it or you'll make me cry," Daniel jokes, holding a hand to his heart.

"He loves us, doesn't he?" asks Sam, with a smirk.

"Yeah, he definitely loves us."

Everyone laughs and you watch discreetly as he and Alysanne start throwing their little looks at each other.

"Party with DJ and yachts? Man, if I were you, I'd be enjoying that," Sam confesses, shaking his head in a gesture of incomprehension.

"It's not big deal and people are hateful, believe me."

No one argues with him about that but you too sometimes wish you could have fun like that, have the experience of going to a beach party like the rich kids in the movies, just once.

But the time will come, someday, there are still many summers left to enjoy.

The conversation flows as the boys settle around the campfire, the warmth of the fire contrasting with the cool night breeze blowing in from the sea.

The atmosphere is filled with laughter and banter, and the relaxed beach setting becomes the perfect backdrop for a night of genuine camaraderie.

Cregan, with his carefree and genuine attitude, seems to fit right in with all fo you and that he values sincere company over superficial luxury.

And you don't know exactly how much more time passes or how many beers that Daniel brings back the theme of the rich party on the other side of the beach.

"Hey, Cregan," he says, leaning forward with a mischievous expression, "Since you're here, why don't you take us to that party? I'm sure it's not as bad as you say."

Cregan raises an eyebrow, amused but surprised.

"What?"

Something about Daniel's words clicks in everyone's head, even yours, so you quickly exchange glances with Alysanne. And Cregan notices how everyone starts to truly consider it.

"Do you guys really want to go to that party?"

"And why not?" asks Alysanne, with an grin, "I'm sure we can have fun, even if we're not part of the rich circle."

"Yeah, and besides..." adds Sam, with a persuasive tone, "It would be interesting to see what the other side of the city is like from the inside. We've never been to a party like this."

Cregan seems to think about it for a moment, looking at the boys with a mixture of doubt and amusement.

"Seriously you guys are telling me this? The rich haters?"

You shrug.

"The rich hate us too."

"And that's precisely why we want to go," Sam says, gesturing animatedly, "We want to try something different. And who knows, maybe we'll give you a good reason to have a little more fun at that party. Right, Chase?"

Everyone looks at Chase, who shrugs.

"I guess that wouldn't be bad."

"But you haven't thought this through," Cregan insists, "As soon as they see you all, they'll know you're not like them."

Everyone looks at themselves and well... he's right.

The rich, especially those who are the same age as you, have a radar to recognize someone who is just like them... or not.

But you don't blame them, since you have them too, the difference is that you don't make disgusted faces or criticize in whispers as soon as you notice.

You notice your two-piece bikini top is wrinkled and is clearly second hand, besides your worn-out sandals. Alysanne is also in the same condition as you and the boys... well, they're worse.

Sam's shirt is torn, Chase's is torn, and the clothes are visibly secondhand.

"We have better clothes at home," you tell Alysanne and she nods.

"And we take our shirts off and stay in shorts," Daniel says, in solution, "Are we at the beach or not?"

"And if something goes wrong, we can always run out and come back here," Alysanne suggests.

Everyone nods and basically watches Cregan with puppy dog eyes, hopeful that he will take you to his kind of people.

"What do you think, Cregan?"

Cregan is silent for a few seconds, his gaze sweeping over the group around him, analyzing and thinking about all the things that could go wrong. And he doesn't pass up the abandoned cat look that Daniel and Sam throw at him.

And finally, he lets out a laugh and a resigned sigh.

"All right, all right. I'll take you. But if we have a bad time, don't say I didn't warn you."

"That's what I like to hear!" exclaims Sam, raising his arms in victory.

"We won't regret it."

"We may not but the rich will."

"Thanks, Cregan," says Alysanne, patting him on the back.

You frown as you watch her gesture and also notice Cregan's confused look for a moment, but go back to watching the boys.

"Well, then let's go before I change my mind."

You put out the campfire, pick up the trash and with laughter they all very animatedly walk away from your spot on the beach, heading first towards the trash cans and then towards Cregan's car.

"You do know Cregan likes you, don't you?" you say to Alysanne, walking a little further away from the guys.

She gives you an incredulous look.

"What?"

"Oh come on and you like him too, don't deny it."

"Of course I don't."

"Of course you do."

"You're crazy."

"And you won't stand a chance if you keep treating him like just a dude."

"Oh yeah, yeah, whatever you say."

You let out a laugh, understanding that it will be difficult for her to accept and share it with you, so you give her time. The guys behind you laugh too, with the echo fading into the salty air, leaving the sea breeze and the sound of the waves behind.

The difference in locations is completely noticeable.

You leave behind the small wooden houses, the unkempt streets, the establishments where you and your friends can shop, the bicycles and old cars, to move to large neighborhoods with green grass, trees and bushes on every corner with huge luxurious houses, almost mansions with modern cars and expensive decorations.

The guys are excited and so are you, as you have never explored these sections of the beach before, which are completely exclusive and with access for the rich people.

Obviously there are entrances with booths and security guards, so Cregan's appearance alone proves he's a Stark and he's allowed in without objection.

And soon enough, you arrive at the party.

"Oh my goodness, look at this," exclaims Alysanne, wide-eyed as she takes in the scene.

"That's a Prestige F4?" asks Sam in surprise, eyeing the luxurious yacht in the distance.

"Seriously, how much money do these people have?" mutters Daniel, in shock.

"More than you'll ever have," Alysanne tells him with a smirk as you all walk onto the beach illuminated by the party lights.

"You don't know that," Chase replies to her, pretending to be offended, "Maybe someday I'll get rich and buy one of those," he points to the yachts.

"I'm very offended that you didn't invite us to your parties sooner," Daniel says to Cregan, putting a hand to his chest as if he were badly wounded, "How could you hide all this from us?"

"Don't draw too much attention to yourselves, guys," Cregan asks with a mixture of concern and amusement in his voice.

"We won't," says Sam, "We'll just enjoy ourselves apart from the others but inside, you get it?"

The music starts to get louder and soon enough, we are inside the party.

Blue and purple neon lights illuminate the white sand, creating a dazzling contrast against the night sky. Waves break gently on the shore, almost muted by the music vibrating through the air.

There is indeed a DJ from a raised platform and most of the people here dance in the center to the music, some with cocktails in hand, bottles of champagne or recording the moment on their phones.

Near the dock, several luxurious yachts are docked, all decorated with lights flashing to the rhythm of the music. There are people inside them, enjoying the party from right there.

Some people get off the yachts to join the party on the beach, while others stay on board, enjoying the view and the exclusivity it offers.

If not beer, there is a bar offering a variety of exotic drinks and gourmet appetizers, such as sushi, caviar and canapés.

And throughout the party, groups of people are spread out, chatting animatedly, laughing, toasting and dancing. There are also party games, such as beer pong and spin the bottle.

While others gather around improvised campfires farther away near the sea, where the atmosphere is more relaxed, watching the spectacle around them.

The air is permeated with the smell of sea salt mixed with expensive perfumes and the sound of laughter and music all along the beach.

It is a party that clearly reflects the wealth and status of their hosts, as well as the people present; pure spoiled kids with rich parents.

"Are we going to have fun or what!?" exclaims Sam excitedly, fully entering the party and everyone follows.

Chase convinces Cregan to be worrying since most of the people here are in their own world and he doubts drunkenly checking to see if they have the latest model Iphone or what.

And honestly you relax too as everyone here is having fun and you along with Alysanne look more presentable in nice bikinis.

They are second hand still but they are more cared for than the others you have.

Sam quickly orders drinks, surprised and excited to have gotten a bottle of champagne, then Cregan and the others take him and you and Alysanne to a more secluded spot.

You make a space for yourselves on the sand, a bit secluded from everyone, having the view of the huge luxurious houses, the cliffs in the distance and also the illuminated yachts on the dock behind you.

Pretty soon you have your beer and start enjoying yourselves just like everyone else, not worrying too much and just pretending you are one of them all.

Mingling with the rich at Sunset's pier is one thing, since the pier is the center of the entire beach and there are no prejudices there, but now pretending to be one is completely different.

You find yourself watching everyone around you when Alysanne nudges you slightly and points her gaze to a specific spot.

"Look at that."

You follow her gaze and see a group of girls.

"That bracelet is from Pandora, I saw it on Instagram."

From here you can see how their gold and silver necklaces and bracelets sparkle. Also the bikinis they have on are beautiful, certainly brand name. There is also a girl with a Guess bag and they all have the latest Iphone model in their hand.

And you turn to Alysanne with a shrug.

"Why are we judging when it should be the other way around?"

"We're not judging, we're just noticing the differences between girls like them and girls like us."

You both let out a laugh.

"You definitely want that Pandora bracelet, don't you?" you look at her amused.

"And you don't?"

The two of you continue to observe or rather admire all those rich girls who have fancy accessories when suddenly you hear a specific boast behind you.

You turn your head and see the dock, noticing how some impeccably dressed people are boarding one of the larger yachts docked near the shore.

And there they are.

You think as you make out those distinctive black, red and silver hair.

Of course they couldn't miss a party like this, the sons of the most influential families in the city, the Lannister's, Baratheon's and Targaryen's, practically the elite of Sunset's.

You've seen Cerelle, Tyshara and Loreon Lannister before on the Sunset's Pair, their red hair gives away who they are instantly. They always brag about their luxurious yachts, cars, jewelry stores and everything else they own.

Their father, Jason Lannister, has built an empire based on shipbuilding and port development.

From what you understand, his company designs and manufactures some of the most advanced and exclusive ships for the world's elite.

In addition to this, Lannister also owns a network of ports and shipyards on several coasts, allowing him to maintain a steady flow of wealth through port fees and contracts with global corporations.

This influence has given him a prominent place among the city's powerful and his family has inherited not only his fortune, but also his imposing and domineering character.

So it is no surprise that the Lannister's are typical spoiled children with clearly very wealthy parents, as are the others, especially the Baratheon's, Cassandra, Maris and Floris.

Known as much for their tanned skin and peculiar dark hair as for their arrogant attitude, they always seek to be the center of attention at any such social event.

Cassandra, the eldest, has a dominant bearing and never misses an opportunity to show off her status. She is also the best known of the daughters to go out every now and then with a boy from an important family either from the city or abroad.

Next, there is Maris, the quietest of the three and the most reserved, but still, as you have heard, just as spoiled and boastful as her older sister.

And finally, Floris, Cerelle's best friend and supposedly the most arrogant, capricious, shallow and boastful of the three.

She is the one who seems the sweetest at first glance, but her spoiled nature soon becomes evident when something doesn't go her way.

You also know that there are two other children, a daughter and a son, Ellyn and Royce, but apparently Ellyn prefers to stay at home and Royce does not live here.

Her father, Borros Baratheon, is a most important and influential shipping magnate and merchant in the region, known for his connections with outside businessmen.

He owns one of the largest commercial fleets operating along the entire Pacific coast. You don't know exactly what it's about but the guys have talked about how his company specializes in logistics and shipping goods across the ocean or something like that.

And finally, the sons of the most powerful family in the entire city and the entire country, the Targaryen's.

Viserys Targaryen is known as the most powerful man in the entire country and by extension his entire family as well. He owns one of the largest and most influential corporations in the region.

Your uncle Ben always had a kind of admiration for him, though your aunt always expressed her dislike of him, as well as the other families, for simply being other greedy money-rotters who drive up the costs of the city for all that they invest to elevate their status and leave you poor people increasingly difficult to make a living.

You honestly couldn't agree with her more, but the Targaryen's have been forging their main empire here in Sunset's for a very long time now and there is nothing that can really be done about it.

The Targaryen business empire focuses on multiple sectors, but they are best known for owning a very prestigious bank, where they serve wealthy elites and large corporations, as well as financing large scale projects, such as real estate developments, technology or even public infrastructure.

You understand that he has built and manages shopping malls, corporate skyscrapers and exclusive developments in major cities across the country, as well as high profile tourist destinations like Sunset's.

So basically all of them and him especially have total control over the financial resources of the region, as well as infrastructure and development in the most luxurious sectors.

Although Viserys and his wife Alicent are no longer seen as much at events this side of Crown's and on the pier, their influence still shapes everything that happens here.

"Hey."

Sam snaps you out of your thoughts when you feel him tap you on the shoulder and you turn your head towards him, confused and attentive.

"Hm?"

"What are you looking at?" he asks you amused, sitting down next to you and offering you a new bottle of beer.

"Oh, no, nothing, just..." you shake your head, taking the beer and not paying attention to the son's and daughter's of rich parents.

But Sam had followed your gaze before.

"I know, they're beautiful, aren't they?"

You immediately watch him intently.

"Who?"

"The yachts," he tells you as if it's obvious, "Imagine spending a whole weekend on one, just doing this..." he points to the beer and all the partying, "In the middle of the ocean."

You let out a small laugh.

"That's your biggest dream, isn't it?"

"And for the yacht to be mine, obviously," he says excitedly, turning his gaze back to the dock where they all are, "If I used to see them from afar and feel envious, now it's torture to have them so close."

You look to where he sees and he has a very good point. They could live perfectly well on one of those yachts and there would be no problem, which is also one of your dreams.

"Oh, come on Sam," you give him a friendly smack, looking at him again and you notice the gleam of longing in his eyes, "Surely your charm can make a girl from Crown's fall in love with you and let you enjoy the amazing yachts."

He looks at you incredulously.

"A Crown's girl with someone like me? Are you kidding?"

"It's not impossible," you shrug.

"Oh yeah, here at Sunset's everything is impossible if you don't live on this side of town."

And that's another good point and very true.

Daniel joins you and Sam's little group and you stop paying attention the moment you turn your gaze back towards the yachts and them specifically.

This time you focus on the Targaryen's, Helaena, Aegon and Aemond.

Surprisingly, despite being in the top tier of the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire city and country, compared to the Lannister's, Baratheon's, Tyrell's, Arryn's, Stark's and Greyjoy's, they are not so smug, superficial and arrogant.

Although, come to think of it, the only exception is Aegon.

The eldest of the brothers, he is characteristic of his carefree and arrogant attitude. His life is summed up in parties, girls and excesses. Everyone knows him, he is the soul of the party and drives all the girls crazy.

For him, life is a game where he always wins. Sometimes he seems like the typical privileged son who has never had to strive for anything, but his power lies precisely in that.

Then there is Helaena, the only sister among the Targaryens who has a pleasant and gentle presence.

Although she is rich, the richest of them all and extremely beautiful, she doesn't abuse it, she doesn't show it off, she's not shallow or arrogant, besides she's always looking out for her siblings.

She is the kind of person who doesn't need to shout to be noticed and with just a quiet smile, she earns the respect and admiration of those around her.

You know a little about her as Chase has a little now not so secret crush on her and honestly you don't blame him, she is absolutely beautiful and even kind, which is rare due to her provenance.

And finally there's Aemond, who of all them, he's always been... different.

Where Aegon is shameless and carefree, Aemond is calculating and serious. Always impeccably dressed, with an expression that doesn't say much and keeps him at a safe distance from most.

From what you've heard, he's extremely intelligent, he's also reserved and quiet, the complete opposite of Aegon.

There is also a rumor about him about his left eye, something about an accident as a child and where he apparently wears a prosthetic.

You don't really know much about it or him but he's always been intriguing and mysterious, in a way.

You focus on him specifically, watching him from a distance, curious, as he takes a seat on the deck with an expression you can't read as it doesn't tell you much.

You watch as his short silver hair moves slightly in the wind and breeze, as well as he watches everything around him intently, to again focus on his siblings and Floris.

Floris is his girlfriend, apparently they have been dating for a few months now and have given a lot to talk about since no one expected Aemond to even date anyone.

But there they are.

You watch as Floris approaches him and takes a seat on his lap, looking radiant in a tight dress and a huge smile on her face, but he, on the other hand, remains expressionless.

Floris murmurs something in his ear, to which he responds with a slight smile, but averts his gaze to the horizon. However, she gently takes him by the jaw and leaves a soft kiss on his lips.

They begin to kiss and you look away, trying to refocus on the party and enjoying yourself here with your friends.

However, being here with all these wealthy people, especially the Targaryen's, you can't help but feel that divide about the rich and the poor at Sunset's.

You feel like you live in two different worlds, where they, the rich, live a life completely oblivious to the concerns of the people on the other side of town, in Crown's.

While you and the others work in the restaurants, clean their yachts, boats, houses and make sure their lives are comfortable.

They float above it all, the Targaryen's, Lannister's, Stark's, Baratheon's and so on, attending parties and making decisions that only benefit their own.

But you, the poor, the ones who live in Black Waters have nothing, you don't have the money, the influence or the power. Even the name of your side of town is a mockery to them, the rich, in despising even more the poor who don't have what they have.

But that's the life in Sunset's Bay.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

[davidchiemcore]

started thinking about how much money each of the characters likely makes

(DRDT SPOILERS AHEAD - for character and story backgrounds)

basic information I'm going off of: drdtdev stated that everyone except Teruko and Min make their living from their talent. the hope's peak academy they attend is located in the US, and they're specifically part of the east class, so implying its somewhere on the eastern side of the us. While they don't have to live where the school is, there is a western branch of Hope's Peak, so the fact that they attend the eastern branch suggests that they're closer to that side. The series takes place sometime in the future, but given the world had a major tragedy and seems to be on the same level as the world we live in, I'm gonna assume inflation is roughly the same as now

teruko: She does mention having to choose between rent and food, meaning she makes some sort of money, and enough to rent a place at times. I assume she works some sort of minimum wage job, given she doesn't have full schooling experience. a lot of the eastern us has minimum wage at 7.25, but places in the northeast have it a bit higher, from 10-15. If she earned something like 13 dollars an hour, worked 40 hours a week, and worked every week, she would make around 27k. However, with her bad luck and lack of legal documents as mentioned when she talks about her schooling, I assume she probably loses jobs quite frequently. Assuming she's unemployed for about a fourth of the year, she would' earn roughly 20k

xander: This one confuses me a bit. He's basically an activist, so I'm not sure what kind of job he would have consistently. Additionally, he lived in the UK from at least age 14 until he started attending Hope's Peak, so I had to look for jobs there. Looking it up, it seems that the pay ranges from 23k-49k, averaging at 33k (all in pounds). Converting that, the average salary would be 43-44k. He's living with no family, and who were poor enough to likely not leave anything behind, so he probably has to work a lot to pay for his overseas school. However, he did do school at the same time, so I'll take 3/4s of the total salary to give him 33k a year.

charles: Given that being even an entry-level chemist requires at least a four year degree, I assume he may work as an assistant to one at the moment. They still make quite a bit of money, however, most making 37k-49k a year. The average is 49k, but there's a chunk of outliers around 82k, mostly from California, which is in the western US. Therefore, I think it's reasonable to suggest he makes something in the middle of the range I gave, giving him a salary of 43k. However, given that he was likely doing school at the same time and has parents to support him, who also seemed to shelter him a lot, he likely works part time. For part time, I'll cut the salary by half and say he probably earns 22k a year.

ace: Horse jockeys get paid per race, both for winning and participating, so this is a little harder to calculate. Most horse jockeys earn 53k-67k, but given that Ace is the Ultimate Jockey, this is a job where being skilled can really help you rise in the ranks, both of how much you can charge, and how often you win. It's also something that he could reasonably have a couple years of experience in given that they only need to be 16 years old to start professionally racing. Therefore, I would put him at the high end of the average or maybe even higher. I'll estimate 70k per year. Many horse jockeys drop out of school to focus on their job, so I'll leave him at that.

arei: This is also a little harder to calculate, because while you can bowl at any age, you can only join the Professional Bowlers Association once you turn 18. However, she could still compete for prizes in PBA Jr. and other smaller competitions. This year's PBA Jr. Competition gave 10k in scholarship money, but most competitions have at most a couple thousand dollars as the top reward, so I'll estimate she might make about 12k in a year? However, she lives with family still, so this is probably fine for her.

rose: rose is stated to have earned several millions doing forgery, so her previous salary would've been incredible. However, now she just does recreations of other paintings. None of the money goes to her, but if we still want to calculate it, the average reproduction artist earns 46k a year.

hu: I assume she likely does small venues where she plays the zither. According to a reddit post, the average earnings for a gig for a small musician is around $230, and assuming she does an average of one a week (some weeks she might do more, some weeks she might not do any), she'd earn about 12k a year.

eden: Eden is stated to both do clock making and clock repair. Most clock repairers make 36k-44k a year, averaging to 40k, and the average clock maker earns about 40k a year as well. She says that she can work 14 hours without breaks, implying she has some very long work days, possibly putting her slightly above the average at 42k.

levi: At first i thought Levi would make a lot because personal stylists sound like a rich people thing? But looking into it the average salary in the US ranges from 34k-50k a year, and since he states that he's relatively new to the field, he probably leans to the lower end of that. im gonna put him at 36k? He lives alone, so he likely works full time to pay for his living conditions.

arturo: Similar to Charles, he likely doesn't perform his actual job yet regularly. Half of all plastic surgeon assistants make somewhere between 22k-56k a year, with the halfway point at 37k. The median amount is around 44k. Given that he was likely working part-time, as he was probably in school at the same time, I'll cut that in half to give him a salary of 22k per year.

min: It's stated that her schooling up until this point was paid for by the spurling foundation, so i assume either the same is the case for her time in college, or her parents were able to save a lot of money to pay for it. Given this and how much time she puts into school, i assume she doesn't have a job.

david: This was a hard one to calculate. The average motivational speaker (I know he's called an inspirational speaker but in this case they're interchangeable) can make anything from 500 to 30k per speech, depending on their experience and skill. We know David is a well-known celebrity, being famous worldwide, but it's not to the degree that everyone in the class is shocked by his appearance, just Xander. If he work to make 10k a speech, and do one speech every two months, he'd be making 60k a year. In addition to this, many speakers have alternate sources of income, like book and channels. He's not stated to have these, but I'd assume he at least does smaller talks, maybe giving him another 10k a year?? As he's paid per speech, this doesn't require a lot of hours, so he probably is able to make full pay while also going to class. I'm not sure if this is a super accurate salary, but it's hard to get a gauge on it, so I'm going with 70k a year.

veronika: How does one make money as a horror fanatic? She mentions being a scholar in her field, so maybe she writes papers and small books on the subject. However, I'm a personal fan of the "deep dive youtuber" theory, so I'll calculate for both. For scientific papers, you can earn from a few hundred to a few thousand per paper. Given this kind of stuff takes at least a couple months of research, I'd say she would only make a few thousand a year. Maybe 10k if I'm being generous and giving her a 2k article every other month? Now, for the other idea, youtubers make about 2.5-7.5 dollars per thousand views on a video. If she gets an average of 800k views per video (with a couple million on some and a few hundred thousand on some), and makes 5 dollars per thousand, she'd be getting about 4k per video. Again, if she puts out a video every other month, this would be getting her 20k.

j: Special Effects artists make anywhere from 44k to 86k a year. The average is 68k, but most make either a bit more or a bit less, and given J's influence from her mother, I'd assume she's in the higher range. The highest category is 23% of people making 78k-86k, so I'll give her 80k. I'm not sure about whether she'd work fulltime or part time, because she definitely has the money to work part time because of her mother, but she might also try to make all her own money herself to spite her? I'm leaning that she works part time, so if I cut that in half she still makes 40k a year.

whit: The average professional matchmaker makes 42k-46k a year. The average is a clean 44k a year. Again, I'm not sure if he'd work part time or full time because we don't know much about his living situation. It's possible he needs to help support his single dad, so I'll put him at 3/4s of that, 33k.

nico: Most animal behavior specialists, which is what Nico says they are in their conversation with Xander, make 46k-53k a year, with an median of 48k. However, given they don't have a degree yet, I'll assume they make on the lower end of that, so 46k. They mention going to school, so they likely work part time, cutting that in half to give them a salary of 26k.

if anyone read this far thank you this took me like three hours HAHA

[autistpride]

Autism Acceptance

Prompt 10: Restaurant AU

Wordcount: 600

@wolfstarmicrofic

“Sirius, could you get table three for me?” Marlene asked Sirius, “I need a smoke break.” 

“Ya sure of course,” Sirius called back before walking over to the table in question and pulling out his notepad and pen. “What can I get for you?” 

“I’m sorry we need a little more time,” a red haired girl said.

Sirius glanced between the two people sitting at the small table and nodded before turning on his heel. Sirius watched from across the dining floor as the red haired teen whispered to the mousy brown haired boy that Sirius assumed was her boyfriend as they looked nothing alike. She seemed worried or anxious Sirius couldn’t tell. The boy seemed to be stressed and upset despite not having even ordered their meals yet. 

Sirius walked back over after a few minutes, “is there anything I can help you with?” He asked.

“No no I’m sorry but we still aren’t ready yet,” She said apologetically.

Sirius looked over at the boy who sat with his head in his hands. 

“Hey, do you need some help?” Sirius asked and the boy didn’t respond.

“You don't have his usual on the menu anymore. He gets it every time. When he tried to order it earlier, the other worker said it wasn’t on the menu. So we’re just trying to find something else.” 

“Ah, I see.” Sirius said softly before noticing the rainbow infinity pin. Sirius knelt down near the teen boy. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“That’s Remus and I’m Lily,” the red haired girl spoke before Remus had a chance to talk. 

“Thank you Lily,” Sirius said sincerely before asking Remus, “What was your usual?”

Remus glanced over at Sirius, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. After a minute he responded quietly, “California chicken sandwich.

Sirius grinned, “One California chicken sandwich with chips coming right up.”

Remus’ jaw dropped in surprise, “really?”

“Ya really. Anything special I should make sure to tell the cook?” Sirius asked.

Remus worried his lip again and shook his head no. He didn’t want to push his luck.

“Come on Remus. I can tell you want to say something. What is it?” Sirius asked, leaning down. “You can even whisper it to me like it’s a secret.” 

Remus knocked his fists together a few times and then whispered, “I like when they have a smile.”

Sirius's face scrunched up in thought and then nodded. “On it.”

Twenty minutes later Sirius brought out the plates of food. Sirius was glad James was working as the cook that day. He was always willing to make special orders when Sirius asked. 

Sirius set Lily’s food down in front of her and then Remus’ down in front of him. 

Remus looked up at Sirius with widened golden eyes and Sirius winked and said, “I hope you enjoy your meals”. Remus gently pried the top bun off the sandwich and made a very excited squeak. 

Sirius had placed the pickles to be two eyes. He made the eyebrows, pupils, and nose from mustard and the mouth from ketchup. He carefully arranged the lettuce around the top as if it was hair and the avocado around the bottom as if it was shoulders. 

“Woah,” Lily exclaimed from across the table.

When Remus looked up Sirius had vanished. 

The person bringing them their check was their original wait staff and Remus frowned in disappointment. 

“I hope you both had a lovely date,” she said.

“Oh! We’re not together!” Lily said laughing. 

“I’m quite gay,” Remus said, “no offence Lils”

Marlene passed Remus something.

She gave him Sirius’ number.

[unholyverse]

waterparks // marvin magazine issue #10

(full transcript under the cut)

Waterparks

WORDS by HOLLY SOLEM

PHOTOGRAPHY by DANIEL PRACOPCYK

Waterparks are places you go for fun; both pools and slides and the gloriously buzzy, pop punk band featuring members Geoff Wigington (lead guitar), Otto Wood (drums), and singer/guitarist Awsten Knight, whose neon energy matches his hair. Their music leads you down sonic chutes and up rainbow ladders with four albums, countless tours, millions of listeners and a recent signing with Fueled By Ramen, the label under which they are about to drop their highly anticipated 5th studio album. MARVIN had the good fortune of catching up with Knight—who is busy prepping for a European tour, a US tour and the release of the band's new album—to talk about all that goes into creating the bubbly world of Waterparks.

The new album titled Intellectual Property features eleven legit bangers filled with anthemic choruses. psychedelic experimentation and hooky melodies all polished to a sheen. There are hints of megalithic rock bands like Muse, inspiration from The Beach Boys and the pop punk sounds we have come to expect. But as for the "pop" part, this record goes in hard with collaborations with the likes of blackbear and songwriter/producer Julian Bunetta.

I love pop music and we got an offer to write with this dude, Julian, who has credits on 95% of One Direction's discography. I fucking love One Direction. I don't want to be dramatic but let's say I've got a top 60 favorite songs, I think four or five are One Direction songs. And Julian's written on all of them. I was just like, 'I want to do what I do but with him too.' And then I made "FUNERAL GREY", "BRAINWASHED", and "FUCK ABOUT IT", with him.

For this album, the band brought in more outside alliances than on previous albums, with Knight saying. "I think I was more open to [collaborations] on this album. Other people's opinions and thoughts and stuff like that. Normally, I don't really love writing with people that I don't know very well because it can feel very sterile. You walk in and they're like, 'what do you want to write about? You're like, 'oh fuck'—because it's a personal thing." And when it comes to getting personal, Knight is also realizing that to his surprise, the more personal he gets-the more vulnerable lyrically—the more universal the message.

I feel like I used to be kind of freaked out by [vulnerability], especially earlier, on album one. I was really nervous about it and it sounds so lame in retrospect but I didn't even want to do any acoustic songs. I liked burying myself a lit- tle bit behind a big instrumental. [The song] "21 Questions" for example. I sent that along with all the other demos to Benji because I wanted his opinion and he was like, 'this is one of the best ones.' Those wind up being the favorites, which seems counterproductive because songs are supposed to be relatable. And I never feel like I'm being relatable but I try to be less selfish with the writing. I want this to be for someone else.

When Knight refers to "Benji" he is talking about Benji Madden, one half of legendary pop punk duo Good Charlotte. Benji, along with his brother and bandmate Joel, manage Waterparks after discovering them on YouTube and DM'ing them on Twitter back in 2015. Knight received the news of the Maddens' invitation to fly to LA for a meeting while working as a babysitter who gave guitar lessons.

I called the guys and we're like, 'holy shit.' So we all went and bought swimsuits because…California. And yeah, that was it. After we met them, we went back to our hotel and were just like, 'what is happening? A week ago we were still passing out flyers outside of other people's shows. And we're right here, right now. This is the weirdest shit.'

A literal dream-come-true for Knight and the band, who eventually would make the move to LA from Houston while missing its Tex-Mex and Thai food, and of course, his family. But when it comes to the weather, he's all about California. He doesn't even mind the earthquakes. He was in a rooftop hot tub during one and actually found it rather exciting. For a man who has toured the world, there's a bright-eyed innocence and almost childlike wonder to him. His seeming lack of cynicism is as refreshing as freshly fallen snow which he admits he only saw for the first time not that long ago. But now, Knight talks about having stress dreams as he and the band get ready to embark on a European leg, followed by an extensive US tour.

Here's the thing, I like to play shows and I like to meet people. The other 22 hours of the day, I like having my space. I'm pretty particular, you know what I mean? I like my zone where I can sit and just do stuff. You go from peace and quiet and doing what you want all the time to sharing a small living space and a bus with twelve people. It's basically having twelve people in your living room for two months. And you're just like, 'ah, but the shows are great' as long as the shows are fun and everyone is having a great time, that makes it worth it to me.

He's also superstitious. Around his apartment there are crystals, there are obsidian and selenite wands in front of all the mirrors. He has a healer-type person come in and energetically clear his space, insisting he throw away objects that may have "dark entities" attached. "I'm luckier than people I know. They're like, 'why is the light always turning green when you go to it? Why do you always get the front spot at the store?' I'm like, it's because I don't split the pole, you know? Can't split a pole when you're walking. There's a bunch of superstitions. But I follow them and I'm crazy lucky."

In addition to music, he recently penned a well-received book of personal essays called, You'd Be Paranoid Too (If Everyone Was Out to Get You). He plans to write a novel next and has also started a clothing line called HiiDef. that fabricates small collections that sell out fast. His enthusiasm for the line is on par with music. "If everybody made the songs that I wanted to hear, I wouldn't have to do this. The same thing applies with clothing." Passion abound, he is all smiles when discussing plans for the future of Waterparks.

How do I get to the fucking moon? I think anyone who hears this album is going to love it. Cause I think it's incredible. I'm looking at the songs right now. I'm just like, 'man, straight slappers.' Even the last song, which I know wouldn't be a single or anything-that's probably one of the best accomplishments of a song that we've ever been able to pull off. I see this album in plaques on the wall. All right, we're manifesting now.

He names his goals out loud, as one is meant to do when calling them in, mentioning things like how much he'd like to play the Redding and Leeds Festivals at sunset. Then he pulls up the Waterparks US tour schedule online while musing, "I want one of those big "Sold Out" things across all the dates. It's getting there dude. Yeah, actually, it's going crazy right now." In real time, he seems to discover that the banners that cross nearly all of the show dates do indeed read, "Sold Out". And then it's clear. Awsten Knight is lucky. But luck is really about preparation meeting opportunities and he has definitely shown up to the game prolific and prepared. Five albums in, it's clear that Knight and Waterparks have only just begun.

@waterparks

[katy-l-wood]

I'm sure a lot of you have seen the California snowstorm that has dumped 10+ feet in a week or so, bringing them up to 50+ feet for the season in some areas. Houses are 100% buried. People have carved out messages in the snow begging for help because they are running out of food. A lot of houses are catching fire because of unsafe usage of gas stoves and fireplaces.

THIS is why you need to prep. Not for nuclear war, or an asteroid, or civil war. But for the things that can easily, easily happen every day. THIS is why you need a supply of fresh water in your home. THIS is why you need a supply of easy prep food in your home. THIS is why you need plenty of extra blankets. THIS is why you need good shovels. THIS is why you need good gear for all types of weather.

The best time to start prepping is yesterday. You don't have to do it all at once, just build things up as you can. If you buy a big multi-pack of ramen, toss a few onto the top shelf of the pantry where you'll forget about them until you need them. If you have an old jacket, stick it in the back of the closet just in case, rather than donating it immediately when you get a new one. Sew your old clothes into blankets. Keep chipping away at it and, hopefully, by the time you need it you'll have enough to help.

[deluxewhump]

The Scry

Chapter 10: Good Intentions, Tied Hands

Prev

CW: whumpee with powers, exploitation of powers, forced labor, power imbalance with caretaker, sleep deprivation, withholding of food, mention of suicide and self harm as an escape from torture

Carlo had been gone a week. 

Max found it difficult to focus on his work. In fact, it annoyed him greatly that he was supposed to drop their planned projects and work on his own again for an undetermined amount of time, because for an unspecified reason they’d decided to kidnap his precognitive.

Not his precognitive. The precognitive. Carlo. 

He got one contract rolling, a small one out of a Tuscaloosa based paper plant that he wouldn’t have wasted Carlo’s talents on. But it was something to have on the books for the week, anyway. 

He told Eddie and Simon what was happening, but they didn’t quite appreciate the gravity of the situation. How could they? They hadn’t been given a scared and abused precog to work with out of the blue one day, gotten attached, and then had him mysteriously “borrowed” for an undetermined amount of time.

God knows what they wanted from the poor kid now, where he was. He could be in the building still, or in California being subjected to more unethical experimentation. He thought of the surgery scar Carlo showed him often, whenever his mind wandered. He hadn’t told Ingrid about that. He didn’t know why, he just couldn’t. 

He did tell Alex Clair, though. 

Alex was the only one at Spartan who seemed to be on the same page with him about the precogs. He was the only one who was as dismayed and alarmed by Carlo’s sudden absence as he was, and he came by often now for updates or to share information.

“Zee said he knows about those research facilities,” he said one afternoon in Max’s office. Max exited his browser and laid his temples in his hands. He was exhausted.  

“I didn’t tell him about Carlo’s… personal experience,” Alex added quickly. “Just asked if he knew about things like that going on. He did.”

“I’m worried about him,” Max muttered. “I don't trust them not to hurt him."

“You two did the best of all of us in the first week. They’re  using him for some shady nefarious precog shit, either to make a bunch of money or rig an election somewhere, I promise.”

“That’s reassuring, thank you.” 

Alex’s cheek dimpled in an apologetic half-grimace. “I just mean he’s useful to them. They won’t hurt him too bad.” He was still wearing a Spartan hoodie over more formal slacks, his half-uniform of protest. “I was thinking of trying to get Blake real drunk Friday night and seeing what he spills,” he offered. 

Max was wearily amused. “You think Martin really tells him anything? Or he just walks around like he does?”

Alex sighed. He ran his hand through his hair so it stayed lifted in a slowly falling blond poof, like a muscle memory. “Yeah, I dunno. He’s a tryhard.”

“I think our hands are tied.”

Alex let his head fall back, tossing a ping pong ball he must’ve lifted from the break room at the ceiling and catching it when it bounced back at him. “I’m so sick of it. For real.”

“I talked to a lawyer,” Max confided. 

Alex sat back up. “Who? What’d they say?”

“A family friend. It was just as a favor. My mother’s an attorney, so I know a few. It’s not good. Basically we don’t have any leverage whatsoever. This is all currently legal with the precogs.”

Alex made a face. “That’s it?”

“She said to document everything. Maybe in a year, once this all runs amok and they’re looking for someone to blame…”

“Martin’s such a fucking snake.” Alex tossed the ping-pong ball again. “And I know he’s not the top of the food chain. It’s just, I see his sorry ass every day.”

Max was about to say something about documenting everything together, collaborating on a record of sorts, when a knock came at his office door. 

Alex widened his eyes questioningly. Expecting anyone?

Max stood from his desk, crossed the short expanse of the office to answer the knock. The door swung open to a hollow-eyed precog swaying on his feet, pale and glassy-eyed.  

“Carlo,” he said, and immediately took him from his escort, a guy in a suit he’d never seen before. The escort made no effort to stop him, not did he comment. He left him there,with Max and Alex, and was gone.

-

Carlo could barely stand. 

It had been bad before, but never quite this bad outside of the research hospital where they’d cut into him. He tried to say something, but a wave of nausea closed his mouth again before he got a word out. Max picked him up without a word. He wrapped his arms around his neck, trying to make himself easy to carry. Max carried him to his little cot in the corner of the office. It was still here. He hadn’t gotten rid of it.

He’d missed this cot so bitterly. He hadn’t slept in nearly 36 hours, and hadn’t eaten in longer. Martin found out that food and rest and water only dulled his precognitive powers, slowled them. Discomfort created an edge. Once he knew that, the niceties stopped, and the most grueling scrying of his life began. Max set him on the bed and laid him down. The bed was soft. So soft. Max was speaking, but not to him. To whom?

He saw Alex Clair come closer, looking as concerned as Max. “What did they do?”

“Who knows,” Max said, and gently slipped the CVS thermometer between Carlo’s lips. It beeped and Max shook his head at the number, showed it to Alex. Carlo knew it wasn’t his fault it was not a pleasing number, but he preferred it when he made his users happy. 

“You’re alright,” Max was saying, brushing his hair back from his hot, dry forehead. “You’re safe now, Carlo. You’re okay.”

He remembered Alex sitting on the side of the cot to hold his head up while Max got him to drink from a water bottle. He swallowed some the wrong way and choked, and Alex helped him up a few more inches to cough.

-

Max’s House. Saturday. He’d never been so grateful to wake up and realize it was Saturday in his life. The thought of getting dressed and going into Baltimore, riding the elevator up to Max’s office made him want to cry.

Max had been patient with him, feeding him broth and juice and medicine, letting him sleep for hours, wake up, and sleep more. His fever broke, and then steadily declined until his body temperature was normal again. He wondered how many times he’d recover. How sick could he get and still get better, every time, like the guy who got his liver eaten over and over by birds?

Max looked surprised when he came downstairs of his own volition at eleven, dressed and coherent. 

“How are you feeling?”

“So much better,” he said, though he still felt bruised under every inch of his skin, and his eyes ached in their sockets. He was grateful for the steady drizzle and heavy cloud cover outside. 

“I have news that may be a small comfort to you. It is to me.”

Carlo pulled himself onto one of the chairs that sat tucked under the kitchen island, which seemed to be the house’s gathering place even when Max and Ingrid weren’t using it to cook a meal. He raised his eyebrows in question.

“It’s a long weekend. No work Monday. No office, no nothin’.”

Carlo laughed. “That really is the best thing you could’ve said right now. Except maybe that Spartan sold me to you.”

Max’s smile faltered, then recovered. It didn’t escape Carlo’s notice. He made a note to be careful saying things like that. Did Max not like the idea of him, or was it an extension of the discomfort he felt at the whole situation? He shouldn’t be so needy. Max had done so much for him already, in their present situation. 

“Carlo,” he said with an air of his telephone-serious voice, and Carlo’s heart dropped. I’m sorry, he almost blurted. That was inappropriate. You don’t have to say it. I know. I know. 

“I think we should talk about what happened.”

No, he thought. We shouldn’t. He wrapped his arms tightly around his ribs and thought of Martin's steady voice in his ear as he sobbed, the sound of that terrible and pitiless patience.

“I know it might be uncomfortable ," Max said. "It’s why I waited until we were home, away from anywhere someone might be able to listen in. But it’s just you and me here, and… I think you need to tell me where you were.”

“I was with Martin Olsen,” he answered quickly. “He tricked me after you left for coffee that day. Tuesday. He said he needed me to work on a project with him. For him. If I didn’t, he said I’d be sent away to a research hospital again.”

Max nodded along. His usually clean face was in need of a shave. His hair was looking a little longer too, dark as the stubble that dotted his chin. “What was that project? Can you tell me about it?”

Carlo shook his head firmly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Max took on a look of measured disappointment that felt to Carlo like a knife in his ribs. “Listen, I really think it’s best if you do. I’m keeping a record of events in case I ever get the opportunity to do something about all this. Legally.”

Carlo had to look away. He stared at a knot in the wood of the island. “I understand, and I still can’t help you.”

Max put a warm hand on his knee and he flinched without meaning to. He hadn’t expected it, was all. Max withdrew the hand and Carlo wished he’d put it back. This isn’t how he thought today would go.

“No one will know what you’ve told me for now, Carlo,” he said seriously. “It will stay between you and me until a time when it’s absolutely safe to use and I have the leverage to keep you safe from any consequences. I’m not going to do anything to get you hurt, sweetheart.”

Carlo closed his eyes. “Don’t call me that when you’re trying to manipulate me,” he whispered. He meant it as a plea, but it came out like an accusation.

“Manipulate you…” Max repeated sadly. “I’m trying my best to help you. I’m feeling very frustrated and helpless here. I can only imagine how you must feel.”

“But you can’t,” he said, and made himself look in Max’s eyes. “Mr Olsen made me sign things. Confidentiality things. Non disclosure.”

“Probably all illegal, in context.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. But… it doesn’t matter what I signed because even if I didn’t, if he ever found out I told you or anyone what he made me work on, he’d make sure I got sent to the worst research project he could find, and I’d never leave again.” He lifted his shirt to remind Max of the scar, of their conversation. “Do you know what that would mean for me? A place like that? Do you know what they do to us?”

“I can guess.”

“I’ll die first. It would be so much better. There’s a million ways to do it. I’m not afraid to do it. Once they’ve got you in a place like that, you can’t. They make sure. You can’t find a syringe, a piece of glass. A good wire. Not even a thumbtack. And you can’t starve yourself to death, they’ll just stick a tube and an IV in you.”

He expected Max to chastise him for this kind of talk, or tell him to stop. He didn’t. “And you know Martin would do this if you told me what you worked on?”

“Yes. He told me.”

Max’s mouth tightened. “Of course he did.”

“Please don’t make me,” Carlo whispered. “Don’t make me tell you. It doesn’t matter. It’s all the same.” 

“I'm not going to make you do anything. Can you tell me if it was relating to Spartan or not?” Max asked gently. “If it was to do with money, or politics, or something else? Was it business, or personal?”

Carlo felt tears prick the back of his sore eyes and let them come. He knew from experience that any charged display of emotion from him either made a user colder, almost angry, or they softened. Max softened. 

“Don’t cry,” he said tenderly. Carlo could tell he wanted to touch him again but was discouraged by the earlier reaction to the hand on his knee. 

“Don’t make me say,” Carlo whispered around the lump in his throat. He was going to have to beg. “Please, Sir.”

Max took a deep breath and was quiet for a few seconds. “Okay,” he surrendered.

Carlo knew he’d played his best hand with the Sir, reminding Max of his inherent authority over him. If he’d pushed any more, Carlo would’ve answered that last question. He felt a surge of relief that he hadn’t. He didn’t doubt Martin Olson’s threats for a single second. And he was glad Max relented. He didn't think he could take it if he pushed him, too, like everyone else.

“Okay,” Max said again, and put a tentative hand on Carlo’s shoulder. Carlo turned toward him and leaned as far as he could. Max caught him in an embrace, rubbing his shoulder blades with his broad hands. “It’s okay, Carlo. I’m sorry. I want to protect you, but I don’t know how.”

Carlo got the sense Max was not used to being powerless. He’d overheard him talking with his fiancée, running up against every wall in the corporate and legal structure and becoming frustrated there seemed to be nowhere he could apply pressure where anyone would care.

Carlo said nothing. He enjoyed the feeling of Max’s arms around him, the weight of them tethering him soundly to his chest.

“Do you want to tell me what happened? Without telling me anything about what you were working on?” Max asked.

“...Why?” He didn’t see what Max would want from that.

Max pulled back to hold the sides of Carlo’s head in his hands, looking at him with raised eyebrows like he might be a bit of an idiot. “Because I care about what happened to you. I thought you might want to talk about it with someone. With me.”

Oh.

Carlo thought about it. He could tell him of the way Martin watched him carefully, finding out what worked and what didn’t. He could tell him about the sleep deprivation, the cold basement office, the lack of food and water and constant bright lighting. The blackouts, the blinding migraines, the sickness, the mounting cost of pushing his scrying powers far past their limits.

What good would it do? If it was sympathy he wanted from Max, he already had it. He wished he could crawl in this man’s lap and make himself very small somehow. He wished he could be unimportant and left alone.

“Later, maybe? I just want to enjoy the day off.”

Max let him go, and his skin missed the places he was no longer being touched. “Okay. Yeah. Of course.”

[morbidlychubese]

i wanna be your hot wealthy feeder girlfriend. no one in their right mind would guess that inside my mansion, there’s a half ton cow laid out on my california king suckling from only the best of gainer mix, but there you would be. i’d slip off my red bottomed heels before climbing on top of your whale of a body, watching every roll ripple and hearing you whimper as my tiny knees poke into your swollen gut that’s hanging off the edge of the bed. you’d already be getting wet and all i’ve done is coo at you. “shh, mommy’s here. did you miss me?” the tube being carefully pulled from your puckered lips so i can kiss it, then shove a decadent chocolate covered strawberry into them.

i’d throw elegant parties, where you’re the main spectacle and everyone brings carts upon carts of foods to feed to you. dangling grapes in front of your chubby face and dribbling champagne down your throat. no one would be able to keep their hands off you, using you as many times as they’d like as long as there’s food being pushed into you. by the time it’s just us, you’re so swollen and covered in come that you can’t form a coherent thought from the absolute pleasure high.

you’d never want again in your life. plenty of staff would make sure you’re being fed something at all times (the real stuffing would be left to me, of course, but they’d keep the pump flowing so there’s not a chance you could lose weight), you’d be bedridden but the medical team i’d put together would keep you as fit as a whale could be. just enough to grasp at me or your video games, because we’d all know that you’re too large to reach anything else, relying on me to get you off whenever i felt like it (which would be multiple times a day, as long as we can heave up your belly.

I almost don't want to answer this, so I can keep this fantasy to myself, but gosh, if this isn't pure hedonism. Everything about this sets off a deep, deep longing to be a rich feeder's pet, pumped full of food and medicine, kept docile and happy by lavish pleasures. Melting my brain down to nothing but obsequious soup solves the problem of me thinking too much. Especially about my future. The only thing I should think about is my next meal. 11/10 fantasy!!

[onenicebugperday]

Hello! I have a garden snail that had lots of babies and was hoping for some advice please! :) I want to make their enclosure as comfy as possible for them but I don't know how. Do they prefer dark environments? Hidey holes? What kind of substrate is best? Etc. Thank you!

(I'm in Southern California)

Congrats on your snabies! Firstly I would not take any substrate or decor for the tank from outside unless you want a lot of hitchhiker creatures in your snail tank. If you do, you'll want to bake it first.

A standard 10 (or larger) gallon aquarium with a mesh lid works great, but you'll want to modify the lid to cover most of the mesh to keep the inside humid. I just bought a squeeze tube of silicone and attached some plastic sheeting inside the lid to cover about 75% of the mesh.

Substrate can be any sort of animal-safe soil-like substrate - so soils meant for bioactive reptile and amphibian enclosures or for isopods. Repti-soil, Creature Soil, organic potting mix, etc. I personally have my snails in with my millipedes, and use a combination of eco earth and Josh's Frogs milli mix - can't recommend milli mix enough! Josh's Frogs ABG mix or isopod substrate would also be appropriate.

No matter which soil you choose, it should be 4-5 inches deep both to hold humidity and for burrowing. 10 quarts will fill a 10 gallon aquarium to the proper depth.

As for decor, I would avoid rocks since snails WILL climb the glass and other decor and probably will fall off from time to time. Rocks can shatter their shells. I would stick to wood - any aquarium safe wood is fine. Cork bark, mopani, spider wood, etc. I'd also recommend some dry/dead reptile-type sphagnum moss to keep up humidity and for nibbling, and some kind of leaf litter - I buy bags of dry/brown live oak leaves on amazon for pretty cheap. My snails don't seem to hide in holes or crevices much - when they're not active, they mostly hang out on the lid or the top glass of the tank.

You do not need lighting or heating unless your house gets particularly cold in the winter - they may be less active if it's too cold. You can put a low watt reptile heating pad on the side of the tank to keep the temp up around 70+ if need be. They are primarily active at night, so if you want to see what they're up to, a small light that doesn't give off heat near the tank would be okay.

Most important is humidity. Get all of the substrate and moss damp as you put it into the tank with distilled water. I use a reptile mister bottle and buy gallons of distilled water at the grocery store. They last a long time so not a big investment. You'll also have to mist the whole enclosure probably daily, maybe twice daily. It should be moist and humid but not sopping wet. Don't let the substrate dry out entirely. Occasionally you may have to stick your finger into the soil to make sure it's staying damp under the surface.

And finally, snails need calcium for their shells! I occasionally dust the top of the substrate with powdered reptile calcium, or you can throw a cuttlebone in there for them to nibble on.

Here's a list of safe/not safe foods for snails.

If you ever have more questions about setup that I didn't answer here, feel free to IM me! Happy to share creature keeping tips.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: A close-up of a burger topped with spinach, tomato, and onion. End ID.]

Black bean burgers

Black beans and lentils are cooked with aromatics and herbs and roasted along with carrots and onions to create a deeply savory base for these vegan burgers. Paprika, cumin, coriander, ajwain, and sumac provide earthy, smoky, tangy, and floral notes to round out the umami base of the roasted onion. Chickpea flour provides much more flavor and holding power than wheat flour—the bonus is that these burgers are also gluten-free!

Recipe under the cut.

Patreon | Tip jar

Ingredients:

For the beans and lentils:

150g (generous 3/4 cup) dried black beans, soaked in cool water overnight

130g (2/3) dried brown lentils (345g cooked) (or substitute more black beans)

1 yellow onion, halved

4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

2 California bay leaves

4 sprigs thyme (optional)

For the roast:

2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped

1 large yellow onion, chopped

4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

1 red chili pepper, halved

1/4 cup chickpea flour (besan)

1/4 cup ground flaxseed

2 tsp cumin seeds, or ground cumin

2 tsp coriander seeds, or ground coriander

1 tsp ground sweet paprika

1 tsp ground smoked paprika

1 tsp black peppercorns

1/2 tsp carom (ajwain) or fennel seeds

1/2 tsp dried sumac berries, or ground sumac

1/2 tsp ground cayenne pepper (optional)

1 3/4 tsp salt, or to taste

small bouquet parsley, stems removed

Instructions:

1. Soak the black beans. Rinse and pick over black beans for stones or other debris, then place them in a large bowl with enough cool water to cover by several inches and leave them overnight.

2. Cook beans and lentils. In two separate pots, place soaked black beans and lentils with enough water to cover. Add a half yellow onion, two crushed garlic cloves, a bay leaf, and 2 sprigs of thyme to each pot and simmer, covered, until tender. The black beans will take 1-2 hours and the lentils around 40 minutes. Drain and set aside, removing the onion, garlic, and bay leaf.

3. Make the spice blend. If using whole spices, toast coriander seeds, sumac berries, and black peppercorns in a dry skillet over medium heat for a couple minutes, agitating occasionally, until fragrant and a shade darker; set aside. Toast cumin and ajwain or fennel for a minute or so until fragrant; set aside and remove skillet from heat. Toast ground spices in the skillet, agitating constantly, for 30 seconds. Grind spices using a mortar and pestle or spice grinder, and filter them through a fine mesh sieve.

4. Optional: roast the vegetables. Drizzle beans, lentils, carrots, onion, garlic, and chili pepper in 3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil and about half of the spice blend; toss to combine. Roast in a large baking sheet at 400 °F (205 °C) for 10–20 minutes. I like to roast half the onion and garlic and leave the other half raw, to get a mixture of deep, roasted and fresh, punchy flavors from the aromatics. You can roast all of it if you dislike the taste of raw onion or garlic, though it doesn't end up being very strong once the burgers are fried.

5. Make the burgers. Mix all ingredients (including the remaining half of the spice mix) in a food processor until they form a single rough but cohesive ball. Taste and adjust spices. Refrigerate the mixture for about 10 minutes to make forming the burgers easier. Take handfuls of the mixture and form into your desired size and shape (I like mine about 3/4 of an inch thick, but I've also tested this recipe with very thin patties designed for layering in a single sandwich).

6. Cook the burgers. Heat 1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil in a skillet on medium for several minutes. Lower heat to medium-low and cook burgers in a single layer for 4–6 minutes each side, until deep brown and crisp on the outside. Press down on the burgers with the flat of a spatula to encourage even frying.

You may also bake the burgers at 375°F (190 °C) until cooked through, about 10 minutes each side.

Serve warm with buns, lettuce, sliced onion and tomato, cheese, jam, or other condiments.

[bobburgerenthusiast]

Season 1 Episode 1: Human Flesh

I've seen this episode so many times and it never gets old. I don't remember how I felt watching it the first time, but I always enjoy it as if I am looking back at old home movies. The nostalgia I get from the opening credits music to the animation is so amazing. Every time I see a clip of this ep I have to rewatch it it's just so funny. This pilot episode has got to be one of my top 5 as far as pilots go.

P.F.E.T.A

Rat's All Folks! Exterminators

Not even a minute in and we have the infamous "my crotch is itchy :-/" scene from BB. Already in under five minutes the show manages to capture how goofy and close this family is. I also really miss the face zoom ins with the background music to go with it lmao.

First and only time I can recall Bob calling Linda baby and its so cute.

Burger of the day: "New bacon-ings" comes with bacon?

NO.

The Ch*ld Mol*ster comes with candy?

YEA

MY FIRST TIME NOTICING LOUISE THRUSTING IN THE AIR WHEN SHE TELLS HUGO BOB N LINDA ARE IN THE BASEMENT GRINDING THE MEAT 😭😭😭

ah yes the autism toothpick scene. Took over tiktok for a bit and people complained saying "tHe OtHeR sEaSoNs ArEn'T aS gOoD" just cause they're different doesn't mean it isn't good OKAY!

Gene looks so cute in his little burger fit. 🫶🏼 I love the way Mort yanks Gene into the building after delivering his food. Then he deliver's that dead body with a bow to the restaurant's front door.

When Bob goes out to confront Hugo and Ron in their van then grabs Hugo is so funny. That's one thing I wish was a bit more consistent, I love when Bob has his deranged moments lol. But I get it he's a tired old man! Helping Hugo get out of the spot is too real. I don't know how to parallel park. I barely know how to drive. Took me three tries to pass my driver's test. I fell victim to the California roll 😔🤚. Every time I'm driving someone around I always make them park for me so I get it.

Bob talking to himself into the reflection of the window is so fucking funny. My favorite scene in the episode.

Overall I give this episode a 8.5/10. I do wanna establish now that my favorite types of episodes are the emotional ones that make me feel like I swallowed the sun. These funny ones are a close second though. This episode perfectly sets up the wholesome but crackhead family dynamic shown throughout the rest of the show and really gets your attention. One of the reasons I find it so hard to start new shows is because it starts out so SLOW but this is a cute lil episode that has too many iconic moments to just have it as background noise. Seeing Bob and Linda on the ferris wheel makes me so excited to start a family and grow old w my man 🥹 they are such couple goals AND parent goals.

[imaginesforeveryone]

Navy Nurse (Part 7) 

Pairing: Y/N X Rooster summary: You were a Navy Nurse, formally a navy pilot. You moved into being a nurse after you had done your time in the air and wanted to go into being a nurse. But, being presented with an opportunity to leave you home base to go to California changed your life in a few different aspects. Warning: angst, death, sadness, but happy!!

You have known Iceman since you were a baby. Your father was his instructor in Top Gun. You grew up around many many pilots, but Iceman was like a second dad to you. He always watched out for you along side Maverick. This was a hard day for all of us. Dressed in your whites with the rest of the Top Gun class, stood between Rooster and Maverick as the fighter jets flew over head, over the cemetery everyone stood attention in front of Iceman’s grave and a large picture of him. Once the pastor was done talking the gun salute was made and Maverick walked up to the casket and placed a top gun pin on it and punched it into it. Your father sat side by side with Iceman’s wife and you couldn’t help but cry as Maverick did. Once you were at ease you went to Mav and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry Mav. He was an amazing person. He’s out of pain now. He’s happy.” You said trying to hold your tears back.

“I know, he was somewhat of a mentor to me though. He was my best friend. Cant believe he’s gone.” He spoke for the first time. You rubbed Mavericks back trying to comfort him. But, you felt a hand grab ahold of your arm causing you to turn, it was your dad and Rooster at his side helping him get to you. 

“Hi Daddy.” You said with a sad smile. 

“Hello baby.” He said kissing you cheek. 

“Mav.” He said quietly stepping passed you to Maverick. You father still stood tall in his old age. 

“How you doing old man?” Mav said giving your dad a hug. 

“Still kicking ass and taking names.” Your dad said with a little laugh. You stood next to Rooster watching the interaction. 

“Just like I’ll do to you if you hurt her, kid.” Your dad turned to look at you and Rooster. 

“Wont happen admiral.” Rooster said with a grin. 

“With a sad day, I think we need to celebrate Iceman, we all know thats what he would want. He wouldn’t want us to stand over his grave crying.” Your father said. 

“So I had Penny close the Hard Deck and set up food, and drinks and invited all the people that were close in Iceman’s life. Maybe have some happiness after all this and before you guys set out for your mission.” Your dad explained. 

“Okay well are you riding with me, or someone else?” You asked your dad.

“I’m going to go with Mav, catch up with an old friend. But, thank you sweetie. Take care of her.” He said beginning to walk passed Rooster with his hard ass face. 

“Always will sir.” He said looking a bit scared. You gave your dad a hug and kiss before walking away. 

“Don’t be so scared of him.” You told Rooster with a slight giggle. 

“Y/N He’s one of the most notorious fighter pilots. He taught my dad and Maverick also. Also, have heard how mean he can get.” He said with a serious look. 

“Yeah, but he wont hurt you. He can be scary at times, but he’s harmless. Just don’t hurt me. I am his kid after all.” You said with a smile and reached Rooster Bronco. You both took your hats off and set them in the back seat. 

“I’m going to stop by my house and change real quick since it’s on the way to yours. If thats okay?” Rooster asked.

“Yeah thats fine.” You told him settling into you seat. Driving just about 10 minutes you reached his town house and pulled into his driveway. 

“You want to come in?” He asked jumping out of the car. You shook your head and got out following him inside. You looked around and noticed how nice it smelt in there. Surprising for a bachelor pad. You saw a lot of photos hung on the walls. Ones of him and his dad, him and his mom, him and his mom and dad. Even decorative ones that had a fighter jet on it. Looked hand painted, it was beautiful. The place was pretty put together for a man in the Navy, and a bachelor. 

“Make yourself at home, I have beer, water, wine, in the fridge.” He said before turning the corner to go down the hall. You smiled knowing how comfortable he was with you. You walked over to the huge window that faced his back yard that was a beach. It was a beautiful view. Similar to yours but better. You heard him walk out of the bedroom and back down the hall in a different version of his button up Hawaiian shirts and a pair of jeans. 

“Do you wear anything else?” You asked with a giggle. 

“hey, I make this look good. Don’t hate.” He said walking over to you. 

“Ready?” You asked.

“Yup. Let’s roll.” He said taking your hand in his and going back out to the car and leaving to your house. 

“Are you going to be okay?” You asked as you got back on the road. 

“With?"He asked confused with your question. 

"Once I leave. Tomorrow is my last day with you guys. With the mission coming up sooner than expected, I’m worried.” You explained to him. He took your hand in yours and kissed the top of it. 

“As long as I can see you, I’ll be fine. We got this. I’m nervous yes. But, we have to make it happen. My line in life doesn’t end here. I’ve only started to know you. I know there has to be more in store for me.” He explained making you smile so big as he actually expressed his emotions toward you for the first time. You leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. Soon after you pulled up to your house and both got out and went in. He follows you to your room and plopped down on your bed. You love leaving the sliding glass door open so when you got home at night it smelt like the fresh salty water and had been just the right amount of chilly in there for you to sleep. 

“Don’t you go falling asleep now.” You told him as you opened your closet. 

“Just resting my eyes.” He said trailing off. You let him take his little cat nap as you got ready. You grabbed out a long maxi dress that almost matched Roosters shirt. You weren’t trying to but it just happened. Also grabbed a pair of wedges and a few pieces of jewelry. You undressed out of your whites and neatly hung them up so they wouldn’t wrinkle. Slipping on a different bra and panties, then slipping the dress on. Putting on the jewelry and then sitting on the bed next to the sleeping Rooster to put your shoes on. 

“You trying to copy me again?” He asked with a yawn and sitting up. 

“Actually no. Didn’t even notice how similar your shirt was to the dress. But, I think we look cute.” You said bent over strapping your shoes.  (the outfit)

He softly kissed your naked shoulder where the beginning of your sleeve tattoo started. 

“So what does this one mean?” He asked pointing at tattoo that was a sun and moon intertwined on the front of your arm. 

“It’s for my mom. He always said that we were total opposites. I’ve always been a night owl. Loved watching the sun go down and the moon go up. She always said I was her luna. She was the brightest person in the room at all times, she was my sun in dark days.” You explained to him becoming sad. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He said pulling you into a hug. 

“It’s okay. Id like for you to know my life, small or big.” You said pulling back looking at him. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, smiled and pulled you into a kiss. This one was different from the rest. Like he was trying to learn who you were, like he thought you were the most valuable thing on this earth, like he loved you. 

“Come on. We should get to the Hard Deck before your dad sends MP to find me.” He said after pulling away making you laugh out loud. You stood now about 2 inches taller in your wedges. 

“You’re still short. Don’t get to into your head.” He said laughing as he still towered over you. You rolled your eyes and walking out of the room to head out. 

“You look amazing by the way.” He said opening your door for you. You got in and pulled your dress up so it wouldn’t get caught in the door. 

“And you look so handsome.” You said as he walked around the car to the driver seat. 

“Goodness gracious GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!” He yelled pulling out of the driveway. 

“WEEEELLL Kiss me baby!!!” You yelled back and he leaned over pecking you on the lips before taking off down the street. You smiled thinking of how perfect he was. How perfect he was for you. How your energies matched so well. You were sad that you wont be able to see him as much after tomorrow. You two pulled up to the hard deck seeing everyones car parked out front. Rooster rounded the car to open the door and held a hand out for you to take. You smiled and took it hoping out of the Bronco and shut it behind you. You link your arm under his and walked together to the front doors. You scanned the room looking for your dad as you walked in, seeing him sitting on the bar stools talking to Admiral Simpson, Admiral Bates, and Maverick. 

“Rooster! Rat!” You heard Phoenix calling for you two from the other side of the room. 

“Go ahead, I’m going to go talk to my dad.” You said kissing his cheek, and pushing him to go. You walked over to your dad and the rest of the men. 

“Hey babygirl.” He said noticing you walk up to them and putting an arm around you. 

“Admirals, Mav.” You said greeting them. 

“So, you excited to get back in the hospital?” Admiral Bates asked sipping his beer.

“Yes, and no.” You said. You saw Penny walk over with a beer. 

“Here you go sweetie.” She said handing it to you. You smiled and nodded to her. 

“Why not?” He asked

“Never realized how much I miss flying till I was back in a plane again. But, I also love being a nurse. I think my flying days are over though” You said shrugging your shoulders and taking a swig from your beer. 

“Your flying days are not over sweetie. You are still young. You can get into a plane and fly like you always have. Now this old man cant do that anymore. I’m sure if you ever want to switch back to being in a plane we can figure something out.” Your dad intervened into the conversation. 

“Yeah, but I think for now I should stay grounded. I know mom is turning right now knowing I’m on flat ground.” You said with a giggle. You heard some more people come in the front door, it was more admirals. Maverick, Bates, and Simpson excused themselves. You sat next to your dad on the stool. It was silent but he was giving you THE look. 

“What dad?” You asked knowing he wanted something. 

“I know that look.” You said quickly after. He turned his head to look over at the young pilots over playing darts. Specifically the young pilot sat on a stool talking to Phoenix and Bob. 

“What’s up with him?” He turned back to you asking. You looked over at Rooster and seeing him smiling and laughing, causing you to smile. 

“I like him dad. Hes’ an amazing person. He has a huge heart. He treats me right. He doesn’t hold me in his hand like I’m a piece of glass that is about to break. He respects me, whether it be because I’m his superior or because he holds doors open for me. He makes me happy. He helps me forget that I’m across the county from what I know.” You explained to your dad looking back at him. 

“Well, I can see you are happy here. I can see he makes you happy. Thats all I care about. But like I said before, I still kick ass and take names. Just let me know.” He said with a smile and a wink. 

“I love you dad.” You said engulfing him in a hug. 

“Your mother would be so proud of you.” He whispered causing tears to well up in your eyes. He pulled away and wiped a tear that had ran down your cheek. 

“Go, enjoy your time with your friends.” He said smiling and pushing you away. You grabbed your beer and went over to them, Rooster putting an arm over you shoulder and pulling you in. 

“Everything okay?” He asked looking down at you. 

“Perfect.” You said smiling up at him. He leaned down and pecked you lips gently. The rest of the night was a good time. Many toasts made to Iceman and his family. All the admirals, and your dad leaving early, leaving you and the Top gun men and women, along with Maverick and Penny in the Hard Deck by 10 PM. 

“Alright everyone come on over.” Maverick announced from the bar where he stood talking to Penny. Everyone went over some sitting some standing. You sat next to Mav and Roooster stood behind you. 

“Tomorrow is Y/N last day with us. I know she has become one with the team, but she sadly wont be flying with you guys. But, she will be on the carrier with us. Once she settles in the infirmary she will come up and be with us for the pre flight. So, with that being said everyone take one.” He said starting to hand out shots. 

“Here’s to Rat!” Mav said raising his shot. You rolled your eyes at his nick name for your call sign. 

“He’s the only one that can call me that. Don’t go thinking you can now!” You said making everyone laugh. 

“TO RAT!” Hangman yelled out in his drunken state. 

“Shut up Hangman!” Phoenix said. You laughed and everyone took a shot. 

“Alright everyone go home and get a goodnights sleep. Big day tomorrow.” Mav told everyone after setting down the shot glasses. 

“Hangman you’re with me. I’ll drive you home.” Mav said. 

“Aye, aye Captain.” Hangman said with a slur making you laugh. 

“alright lets go.” Rooster said helping you off the stool. He walked hand in hand with you to the front door and opened it for you. Instantly you got chills from the windy, chillier than usual night. 

“Here.” he said talking off his shirt leaving himself in just a white undershirt that laid perfectly on his muscles. 

“What a gentleman.” You said smiling. He just smiled and threw his arm around you as you walked to the car. You noticed his face had fallen from being happy to a worrisome look. You got into the car and he did the same. He pulled out of the parking lot and start towards your house. 

“Roos.” You said quietly. He hummed back to you. 

“You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” You told him knowing what he was thinking about. 

“I know.” He said looking over to you with a fake smile on trying to hide the worriness. Pulling up to your house he came over and opened your door for for you. You got out and both of you walked to your front door. 

“Do you want to stay the night?” You asked him.

“The answer to that question will always be yes.” He said with a smile and followed you inside. You dropped your keys on the table and kicked you shoes off. You went to grab a bottle of water as Rooster made his way to your room. You weren’t far behind him as you saw him stripping off his shirt and folding it neatly and setting it on the dresser. You came up behind him and put your arms under his and laid your hands on his chest hugging him from behind. He laid his hand over yours, his hands being so much bigger than yours covering them completely. 

“Roos, you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” You whispered the same thing you said in the car to him. He hung his head slightly making his dog tags hit you hand. He quickly turned around, your hands now resting on his hips and him looking down at you with his hand caressing your cheek.

“But what if I’m not.” He spoke. 

“What happened to this not being your time? What happened to your line doesn’t end here? You’ll be okay. You HAVE to come back to me.” You spoke up to him. He dropped his hands and pulled away from you and went to sit on the bed putting his hands on his face and supporting his arms on his knees. You looked over to him with your shoulders dropped, upset seeing him this way. You walked over to him and got down on the ground in front of him sitting on your feet. 

“Roos. Look at me.” You said trying to look under his hands. He pulled them away and looked at your with sadness in his eyes. 

“What happened that you changed how you thought yesterday?” You asked laying your hands on his knees. 

“That was before I knew I really really..” He started but paused looking at you. 

“Really what?” You asked looking up at him confused now. 

“Before I knew I love you Y/N.” He said making your eyes go wide at the fact he just told you he loved you. 

“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. I knew if I did id screw this up. Fuck.” He said standing up now. You quickly got to your feet and grabbing him to pull him into a deep kiss. One that had passion, one that had love. 

“I love you too Roos.” You said pulling away.

[tarmac-rat]

OC Associations

Tagged by @ghostoffuturespast -- finally getting around to clearing some of my tag games out lolol

Animal: Coyote

Colors: Electric blue, neon green, dark gray, burnt gold

Month: August

Song: Zombie by Bad Pony and TrusT by half alive

Number: 9

Day or Night: Day

Plant: Star Cacti, Black-eyed Susans, California Gold Poppies

Smells: Oil, old leather, gunsmoke, vanilla, licorice

Gemstone: Turquoise

Season: Summer

Places: Reconciliation Park, the top of MegaBuilding 10, the pavilion overlooking Westbrook on Lilac Street, your local grungy dive bar

Food: Syn-lamb shawarma, Moochies, cold noodles in peanut sesame sauce, charred hot dogs cooked over an open flame

Astrological Sign: Sagittarius

Element: Earth, Ice, Electricity, Mercury

Drink: White rum, bourbon, black coffee, Chromanticore Lime

I'm thinking I missed the boat on this one, so I'll hold off on tagging for now. Maybe I'll reblog with some extra tags.

[karatekels]

Fresh Start - Day 14 (Part 3)

Hi everyone! Yeah, it's here. The end (for now) of Fresh Start. I hope this gives you all the ending that you were looking for!

---

Previous Parts:

Days 4 & 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B

---

Day 14 - Evening

You step out of your bathroom in a towel, your damp hair down to let it finish drying. You always needed to shower as soon as you got home after a flight; airplanes made you feel gross. You feel clean and a bit more relaxed, but still exhausted; it had not been an enjoyable journey.

You hadn’t shed more than a few tears between exiting Terry’s limo and walking through your own front door, and you suppose you were proud of yourself for managing to keep it together. If anything, you had been numb most of the way home, staring blankly into space and thinking about nothing; it was easier than thinking about everything you were leaving behind.

The minute you walked through your own front door though, you had fallen apart. Being home really seemed to confirm the fact that you were away from Terry, as silly as that sounded. You missed him terribly already… it felt like some invisible force was trying to pull you back to California, to him.

To make matters worse, your ex had come by while you were away to move out the rest of his things. You had arranged it with him before you had left for your trip, but coming home to your place half empty was oddly unsettling. So many memories had left with the furniture. This didn’t even really feel like home anymore, and it made you feel even worse. It also didn’t help that all of your memories of this space involved your ex, and your relationship. They weren’t bad memories, but they make you feel guilty for some reason, like you were being unfaithful to Terry by being in the apartment you’d shared with your ex.

Sighing to yourself, you walk over to your suitcase – you had tossed it on your bed when you’d gotten home. You may as well unpack now and get it over with; maybe it would make it easier to convince yourself that you were back to reality, and make the space feel more lived in again. You tug the zipper around and flip the top open, almost bursting into tears when you see what’s inside.

Terry had left you a surprise, since you had insisted on leaving your book with him, and true to your word, you hadn’t peeked before now. There, laying right on top of your things, is the shirt of Terry’s that you’d been sleeping in the past few nights. Gingerly, you pick it up, bringing it to your face; it still smells like his cologne. That thoughtful, wonderful man…

Dropping your towel, you throw the shirt on, immediately feeling so much better. It obviously wasn’t as good as being in his arms again, but it did almost feel like a hug from him. Unable to keep the smile off your face, you hum to yourself as you unpack your things before heading into the kitchen to eat the food you’d picked up on the way home.

Sitting at the kitchen counter, you munch on a pizza slice, scrolling through your phone and the pictures you’d taken when you and Terry had visited the botanical gardens. You hadn’t taken any of Terry, or even of yourself – you’d been too nervous at the time – but just looking at the things you’d seen together has you missing him more and more. Somehow, your sense of home had migrated to California with you, and this place just wasn’t the same anymore. You knew exactly where you wanted to be.

Biting your lip, you start doing some Google searches on your phone; just to plan for the future, you tell yourself. It wasn’t like you’d need to move all of your things…

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and you see that your mom is calling. Reluctantly, you answer.

“Hey mom, sorry I forgot to message you. I’m home safe, just unpacking.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear from you for days, Y/N. You’re normally much better at responding to my calls.”

“I’m sorry, mom, it was a busy trip.”

“And just what did you get up to that kept you from sending your mother an email?”

“I was on vacation mom, exploring the city! I did a lot of day trips, went to a botanical garden, a museum, the beach…”

“Alone?” she asks suspiciously. You walk towards your bedroom, pausing to lightly bang your head against the doorframe as you do. Could she not just leave things alone?

“You know I don’t have any friends in L.A., mom,” you say exasperatedly, avoiding answering the question. Terry was far more than a friend at this point…

“What about the gentleman that called me about your lost wallet?”

You try to keep the smile out of your voice as you respond; just the thought of Terry has you beaming. “I told you, mom, he’s just a guy that found my wallet. We weren’t on a date.” That was true, at least…

“So you couldn’t find a man in all of L.A.?”

“I wasn’t really looking, mom. You know that.” Again, you sidestep the question. Technically, you were being honest; you’d fought tooth and nail to deny your feelings for Terry, and his feelings for you, for those brief horrible hours the other night. You hadn’t wanted this to happen, and you’re still so happy that it did.

“Well, I guess that’s alright. I’ve been talking you up to some of the ladies in my office, and I’m sure one of their sons will be calling soon to take you out.”

“No!” you all but shriek into the phone. Just the thought of being set up with anyone else, having any man other than Terry looking at you with romantic intentions, has you feeling disgusted.

“Y/N, what has gotten into you?!” you mother snaps at you, appalled.

You swallow, trying to calm yourself and come up with an adequate explanation all at the same time.

“Sorry, mom. I didn’t mean to yell. I know that your heart is in the right place, but I’m really not looking for a new relationship right now.”

There was no way you were telling her about Terry. You didn’t want her anywhere near this relationship, near him, especially in these early stages of your relationship. Being in L.A. would make this so much easier…

“I actually did meet someone mom, but –” You’re cut off by her shrieking into the phone now. You roll your eyes, wanting to be convincing. Playing with the hem of Terry’s shirt, you imagine that he’d be very entertained by the conversation you were having right now, and the thought has you smiling softly to yourself as you picture him sitting on your bed, his mouth quirked in an amused smile.

“–But it wasn’t like that,” you insist, trying to reclaim her focus. “It was someone who works at the parent company for one of the places I’m scheduled to interview at here next week. She was nice, we met on the beach and got to talking on one of my first days there. She told me I’d be a great fit for another job opening… in California.”

“You’re moving to California!? Are you crazy? You were there for two weeks and you’re just going to leave your family and everything you know at the drop of a hat? You are being completely irresponsible, Y/N, and–”

“Mom!” you cut her off, frustrated. You briefly wonder what her response would be if you told her the truth. Yeah mom, I met a rich, handsome billionaire and we’re in love. I want to go live with him. By the way, he’s older than you and dad…

“I didn’t say yes!” you tell her instead. “I would still have to interview for it, but I told her I’d think about it.” There, hopefully that would calm her down.

“You can’t move across the country by yourself, Y/N! If you were with someone, then sure, maybe, but you need a partner. You can’t do this alone.”

“People relocate for work all the time, mom! I would be perfectly fine on my own.” You don’t think you’ve ever been so frustrated by a conversation based on a completely made-up scenario; somehow it made this whole thing even more annoying.

“Look, I don’t want to fight with you. I’m tired, I’ve had a long day of travel, and I have a lot of thinking to do. I’ll talk to you later, mom. I love you. Bye.”

Hanging up, you toss your phone onto your bed with a bit more force than necessary. You use the energy that has built up from your argument rearranging some of the furniture; now that so much of it was missing, you needed to shuffle things around to get rid of the large, empty spaces that littered your bedroom.

Your phone vibrates again when you’re in the middle of pushing a heavy dresser, and you growl; your mother didn’t know when to just drop it. Angrily, you snatch your phone off the bed and answer it.

“Alright fine, you caught me – I did meet someone. He knocked me up, actually; it’s triplets!”

“What a lovely way to be given the news of my impending fatherhood, Y/N.”

“Terry!” you exclaim happily, before the embarrassment sets in. You drag a hand down your face, feeling like an idiot; a lesser man would’ve definitely hung up and run screaming by now. “I’m sorry, I thought you were my mom calling me back; I got mad and hung up on her awhile ago… I haven’t scared you off, have I?” you ask nervously, biting your thumbnail.

Terry is quiet for a moment, and you start to worry.

“It would take much more than that to keep me away from you.”

Had his voice always been quite this deep and husky? Or were you just noticing it more because you weren’t able to be distracted by the sight of him right now?

“You didn’t seem like the type to scare easily,” you joke, “But good to know. I’m glad you called.” It was true; the second you heard his voice you felt your whole body relax.

“I missed hearing your voice. I’ve gotten used to having you around.”

“I know what you mean – witty banter is a lot harder when it’s just me.”

“You talk enough for two, I’m sure you’re managing,” he teases, and you make a grumpy noise to convey your displeasure, smiling all the while. God, you missed the way you poked at each other; it was quickly becoming your favourite pastime.

“How was the rest of your day?” you ask, pointedly changing the subject, and you hear him snicker at your change in tone.

“Fine, boring. And yours? How was your flight?”

“Long and uneventful. I haven’t done much else with my day.”

Should you tell him what you’d spent most of your time home doing? What you’d been researching? Was it too soon? It was much harder gaging his responses to things when you weren’t able to see him.

“…Have you unpacked yet?” Terry asks, clearly fishing for something. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what.

“Yes, Terry, I found your surprise,” you say with mock exasperation, running the fingers of your other hand across the fabric of his shirt fondly. “Thank you, it was a wonderful surprise.”

“And are you wearing it?” he asks, his voice dropping an octave and taking on a husky quality.

“Maaaybe…” you tease, flopping back onto your bed with a coy smile.

“What else are you wearing?” he asks, his voice becoming even more seductive tone.

“Why are you trying to torment yourself, Terry?” you ask, giggling at his antics. His sex drive clearly hadn’t been tamped down by your departure; you could relate.

“Answer the question.” He’s using that firm, commanding tone now, the one that makes your whole body clench in desire. Yes, you were definitely looking forward to letting him have his way with you at the earliest opportunity…

“I can’t!” you tell him truthfully, refusing to elaborate.

“And why not?”

“I’m not wearing anything else,” you inform him cheekily.

You hear a quiet growling noise that makes you giggle even as it turns you on.

“What was that?” you ask in your most innocent voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. I don’t know what you expected, trying to initiate phone sex.”

“Phone sex?” he asks. He falls quiet for a long moment, and you can tell that he’s thinking the concept over. “Interesting. As enjoyable as that would be, I’m going to insist on having you here in person the first time I make you come from my words alone; I want to watch,” he purrs, and a shiver runs through you.

“Then you’d better stop talking like that right now, Mr. Silver,” you warn, only half-joking. You’re starting to get very turned on.

“Fine.” You can hear his pout as he heeds your warning. You share his sentiment; phone sex could be a very fun thing to try out while you were regrettably apart.

“So, did you just call to ask me what I’m wearing?” you ask lightly, changing the subject again; it always seemed to return to something sexual. Terry was a hard man to deter when he set his mind on something.

“No. I called because I miss you,” he says curtly, but you can hear the yearning in his tone. Was he a little embarrassed about how much he missed you? The thought makes your heart melt.

“I miss you too, love,” you tell him sincerely, not wanting him to feel self-conscious about his own feelings. You get a rush of giddiness at the knowledge that you could call him love; doing so has your heart fluttering in your chest; it had never felt so natural or so right with anyone else. Still, these feelings drive home the fact that your love is on the other side of the country, so far away from you, and you find yourself quickly spiraling down from the brief high that Terry’s call had initially made you feel.

“Happy to be home?” he asks, and he seems genuine, but the question gets your hackles up.

“You know I’m not, Terry,” you snap at him, but then you check yourself. “Sorry, that sounded mean.”

“I would say it was rather tame for you,” he jokes. He always excused so much of your terrible behaviour… how on earth had you possibly managed to win his heart?

“But I did mean it,” you continue. You didn’t really want to talk about these things with Terry; it would likely just make both of you feel bad, but you were really trying to be honest and upfront with your emotions, Victor’s words ringing in your mind. “It just doesn’t really feel like I’m home, especially since the place is half empty now.”

“Were you robbed?” he asks with a slight chuckle, but you detect an underlying note of concern in his voice.

“No, my ex came back while I was away and moved out the rest of his stuff. We’d been putting it off for awhile.”

There is no response.

“Terry?” you ask hesitantly, feeling a sense of dread at his silence.

“…you’re living in the place you lived in with your ex?” He sounds anxious, and not at all happy when he replies.

You bite back a groan, but a deep sigh manages to escape you. You knew you should’ve kept your mouth shut, honesty be damned.

“Terry, we’ve been over this. We broke up months ago, amicably. We’ve both moved on. I knew he was coming to do it while I was away, I just wasn’t expecting it when I walked through the door. There’s no reason to be jealous; he’s fully out of my life,” you say, trying to use a calm, soothing voice.

“I’m not jealous, I’m indignant.” He huffs, and you can picture the grumpy frown he’s likely wearing. Strangely, his behaviour makes you want to push him further. Jealousy would probably look really good on him…

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re jealous,” you tease, hoping to provoke him.

“Come over there and show you adorable…” he mutters under his breath. You bite back the giggle that threatens to escape you, a result of both your amusement and growing desire.

“Terry?” you call his name, trying to reclaim his attention.

“What?”

“I love you,” you say sweetly.

“I love you too, Y/N.” You would never get tired of hearing him say that; just hearing him say your name the way he did makes you tingle all over.

“Will you let me talk without getting all grumpy?” you ask him patronizingly, trying to get back on track.

“I am perfectly capable of having a conversation, my dear,” he grumbles, letting out a cute little ‘harrumph!’ noise.

“Good enough for me!” you say cheerily, before pausing to take a breath. You would tell him now – it would certainly help bring his mood up. Or, at least you hope it will.

“Like I was saying, home hasn’t really felt like home since I’ve been back. I’ve actually… spent most of the evening looking at moving companies that drive cross-country.”

You bite your lip, waiting to see how he’ll take that little bit of news. Would he still want you? What if it was too soon?

There’s another stretch of silence that feels like it goes on forever, before you hear Terry let out a quiet laugh.

“Terry?” you call his name again, nervously this time.

“I spent most of your flight doing the same thing,” he confesses in a slightly breathless voice.

“…Really?!” you can’t contain your excitement and relief, nearly shrieking the word into the phone. Oh, thank God…

“As it turns out, I may not be as patient as I said I would be.”

“That’s alright with me; I’ve fallen for you far ahead of schedule.”

“I’ll send you the options I think are best. Let me know which you’d prefer and I will organize the move when you’re ready so they’ll treat your things with the respect they deserve.” There’s a warning in his tone, and you know it’s not meant for you, but for any hypothetical movers who dared to be careless with your boxes. You hope they know who they’ll be dealing with.

“Show-off,” you tease, wanting to rile him up again. You’re thrilled to hear that you’re on the same page, for once. Apparently all it had taken was a couple thousand miles between you for you to really know what you want.

“That’s nothing; just wait until I send the private plane for you,” he threatens, but you get the sense that the teasing is over; he’s entirely serious.

“Will you be onthe plane?” you ask pointedly. There was no way you would let him send a plane just for you. Even if he was on the plane it was a ridiculous thing to do, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to see him hours sooner.

“I could be...” he says neutrally, and you roll your eyes. He always wanted to hear you say that you wanted him. You were normally more than happy to oblige, but he was such a spoiled brat sometimes.

“If you’ll be my flight attendant, I’ll allow it; otherwise it’s economy class for me!” you inform him cheerily, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at the very suggestion.

“Then I will definitely be coming to get you,” he says decisively, his disdain at the thought of you sitting amongst your fellow commonfolk on a plane very apparent in his tone.

“I never thought I’d join the Mile High club, but I imagine that’ll be an inevitability with you,” you comment offhandedly, trying not to giggle at the thought. You hear a sharp intake of breath on the other line that gets your blood pumping.

“I’m liking this plan more and more; you trapped on a plane with me for hours. I’ll have you over your embarrassment about moaning where others can hear you by the time we land, provided you don’t end up distracting the pilot.”

Your cheeks redden at the thought, and you collapse into a brief fit of breathless giggles that gradually turn into a yawn.

“Tired, love? You’ve had a long day,” Terry says gently, his voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, I guess so.” A long day was a bit of an understatement; your emotions had been on a near-constant rollercoaster of peaks and valleys for days now, and it had taken a lot out of you. “But I don’t wanna sleep,” you whine petulantly, even as you burrow into your bed and turn out the light. “Wanna talk to you…”

You hear Terry chuckle under his breath.

“As charmed as I am by you right now, you should rest, my love. We can talk more tomorrow, start planning your move?” Though he’s keeping his voice quiet and calming, you can detect the undercurrent of excitement in his words.

“So pushy, Mr. Silver,” you tease, feeling your own excitement reflected in your words.

“Act aloof all you want, Y/N, but you’ve shown your hand. I know how much you want to be back here with me,” he says smugly.

“Yeah, I do,” you agree softly. “More than anything.”

Terry hums in contentment, and the sound lulls you further into your drowsy state.

“Goodnight, princess,” he murmurs. “I’ll see you soon.”

“’Night, Terry. Love you,” you reply, managing to end the call and toss your phone onto your bedside table before falling asleep. Deeply inhaling, you breathe in Terry’s scent from your shirt, and that helps you relax.

You hadn’t decided on a ‘When?’ for your move other than ‘Soon,’ or talked about if you would be finding your own place in L.A. or moving into Terry’s home, or his bedroom… But for the first time in a long time, you find that you’re not at all worried about making these kinds of decisions.

You’d figure it out when you got there. It was a fresh start.

---

Thank you to everyone for reading, and to the person who requested the prompt! I've said it before and I'll say it again - I'm happy to take follow-up requests for oneshots for these two, because they make my heart sing!

[remembertheplunge]

My one year on the street

From the book “100 Years” by Joshua Prager:

BIRTH:   “Birth was the death of him.” Samuel Beckett, A Piece go Monologue

My margin note to above:

March 15, 2018

Re: Birth was the death of him” I wrote “Me!”

The Thunderstorms raged at my birth.

There was a double rainbow over 24 hour Fitness Gym parking lot last evening. I cried a bit-----

The heavens blessed my one year on the street.

(DJ’s first night in the house was 3/15/2017)

End of entry

Notes:  1/24/2024

When I was born at 7:05pm Monday June 20, 1955, a thunder storm was raging outside per my parents (confirmed by a Google search)

 Between mid March and late October 2017, I had on about 10 separate occasions different homeless men stay with me in my house. They would stay in the guest room for anywhere between one night and a few weeks. I also filled up bags with food, socks, tooth brushes and other assorted street survival items and pass them out in my travels. I did this in at least 12 cities. This is what I was referring in my margin note above when I referred to “my year on the street”.

I met some of the homeless men in the parking lot area of 24 Hour Fitness (now Valley Gym) off Ben Holt Ave in Stockton California.  That’s why the double rain bow had such an impact on me there.

I had some harrowing , wondrous adventures during the year on the street which I intend to detail in future blogs. It was one of the best years of my life. My homed  friends said that I was going to be murdered. My clients in Jail loved my work with the homeless.

I found it to be a healing time. I was never physical injured , but I did lose lap tops, cars (taken on joy rides and returned) my wallet, an I phone. It was worth it.

I came up with the phrase “You gotta get taken to get taken to." I saw things and went places no other homed person would go.  (BY homed, I mean people that have a secure place to live and a stable income) The loss of the things was a small price to pay for the insights I gained from street life encounters.