#I went on a thrift shop haul again today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pbandjesse · 2 years

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I hate when I tell myself. When I tell everyone. I am going to have a day off and do nothing and not feel bad about it. But I still end up feeling bad about it!!!

And like I had a really good day for most of it. I just wish I could stop beating myself up so much. But some of it is I am just very burnt out right now. I'm sick of the heat. I'm sick of the long days. I want to have days of interrupted time to be quiet. I miss the winter. I wish I had a snow day. But I know my upset right now is just being very tired. This week will be good I'm sure. But I'm still having trouble.

But today wasn't bad though. I slept alright. Waking up just enough to hug James goodbye. And slept until 9. I actually felt alright. Except my hand hurt a lot again. I don't know why. It was just really tight and a little swollen. It's frustrating because yesterday it was okay. But I tried to be positive.

I got dressed and actually was doing good. I spent my morning chilling. I felt a little unsettled but I was trying to just enjoy my morning.

I laid in bed and watched videos for a bit. I decided around 11 I decided to go for a drive. I drove out to savers and was really surprised that it was almost empty? I have seen some talk on TikTok that thrifting as a trendy hobby is over. And maybe it is. But I had fun without having to be near a bunch of people.

I ended up having a great haul. I got four more candle sticks. And a soft red dress with the same cute frilly sleeves that I got on a dress in the mail yesterday. And the biggest find! I found another pair of the Boston clogs, in my size, in a brushed suede, for $6! Amazing. They aren't as supportive as the ll bean ones I got but they are so good. I'm very excited for the find.

I went and had lunch at five guys next. Another quiet place. And enjoyed my food though the soda was $3?? And the potatoes tasted slightly. Green? But I still had a nice time.

I walked across the shopping center next to get paper towels from the grocery store. I had to do stupid toilet paper math to figure out what was the best deal. But I think I did good. And then after dropping them off in the car I went to Ross.

I was able to get two of the old formula body shop strawberry body butters and was very excited about that. I also got me and James a new pack of mini nail files. I did just learn that James thought that was the normal size and the regular one I had the other day was giant. Hilarious.

I would have a funny interaction with a security guard about some confusing signs. And then went over to Sally beauty to look at nail polishes.

I was getting tired at this point though. So I headed home. I had a nice drive and listened to my music and it was a good time.

When I got back here I took the stickers off of everything and put things away. I did a little tidying and tried on the dress. I thought about doing art but did not. Which made me feel very guilty.

But I was very tired from the heat. And just wanted to lay in bed. So eventually I gave up fighting it and laid in bed and watched videos. And eventually fell asleep.

I woke up when James got home but I was pretty super. I was super disoriented. And eventually James would come in bed with me but I had a lot of pain in my back and just felt no good.

James decided we should get out of the house. We would go for a drive and get gas for the car. And then went to Rita's. We walked around the rotunda and I was still feeling a little upset but it was okay.

We drove through the park to go home and it was pretty and nice. But then someone was acting crazy and almost crashed into us and really scared James. I didn't see it happen but like James swerved and then the other car was going around us way to fast and it was almost very bad. But we were okay. James was very scared though and would sort of be dealing with anxiety all night.

When we got back here James would make something to eat to try to calm down. And I would lay on the couch. I would lay fabric out to cut new bears. And James would cut them for me because my hand hurt.

I would do the glaze treatment on my hair and tried to feel better. But honestly I still feel really upset inside. I hope tomorrow I feel lighter. And things are better.

Sleep well everyone. Take care of yourself. I hope you feel good tomorrow.

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thornshadowwolf · 2 years

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Went to the mall today so shopping haul (and selfie) post

Four new MCR shirts and red glasses! (I wanted pink heart-shaped ones but they didn't have any, but everyone loved these on me.) Also I bleached my hair, and didn't ever get around to posting about the *black and red studded belt (with all the studs!) I found at the thrift store*

[ID: the first image is a photo of a person with bleach blond hair wearing round glasses with red lenses. He is also wearing an MCR t-shirt, a red bandanna, black and red fishnet gloves, a black and red studded belt, black jeans, and a wallet chain. He is holding his phone up to take a picture in the mirror. The second image has four shirts laying on the ground. The first is a black tee with blue and magenta and "Danger Days" at the top in white letters, a white spider, and "MCR" in magenta letters above the spider. The second shirt is a mottled red with "I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love" in white letters. The third is a long-sleeve with the Bullets album cover on it, "My Chemical Romance" in yellow letters above that, and "I Brought You My Bullets You Brought Me Your Love" in red on the sleeve. The final shirt is a mottled red tank top with "My Chemical Romance" in white letters several times, and art of a man and a woman covered in blood about to kiss in front of the letters. The third image is the red tee again but the back, which has the album art and tracklist in white. The remaining six images are more selfies of the same person as the first image, at different angles. /end ID]

#ThornShadow.said #yaboi went shopping #photo of me

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writing-good-vibes · 3 years

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Plz ignore the anon asking for the same thing. It was me. I messed it up. I saw the holiday requests were open. Could I plz get 14 and 27 with chucky? I met Alex Vincent today and the way he talked about the end of this season for the chucky show made me a bit uneasy about what’s going to happen to who. Some chucky love is exactly what I need rn. Thx! And I’ll probably be back with more requests just like the Halloween ones 😉 ❤️

ahh hello !! 💖 that's so cool that you got to meet alex, i hope it was a good experience, he seems really chill !! i've been really enjoying the chucky series so far but it definitely is taking a lot of turns that i haven't been expecting, it's honestly wild just to be getting any new chucky content so i'm rolling with the punches rn 😂 but, i hope this brings you some enjoyment, chucky is grumpy but when isn't he. your requests are always welcome, i'll look forward to them !! 💖😊 (requested from this festive prompt list 🎄)

It was that time of year again and you were trawling every thrift shop in town for Christmas decorations. You and Chucky moved around so often that most things - things that weren't sentimental, personal possessions - got left behind, you having no time to pack everything up before you were both in the car and driving over state lines.

Pretty much every year you had to buy new Christmas decorations from 2nd hand stores, and this year was no different.

You rummaged through one cardboard box after another, picking out the least battered baubles you could find and the nicest strings of tinsel. As it was still November, you were getting in early before the nicer decorations were taken. You did your rounds and, two large paper bags in hand, you started to head home, happy with the festive haul you were returning with.

Chucky was neither here nor there about Christmas. He had particular fondness for it and the firmest tradition you had was going to the Christmas buffet at the local strip bar.

Either way, regardless of Chucky's disinterest, you always tried your best to spruce up whatever place you were currently staying. You made it home and, after shedding several of your winter layers, got started on hanging the tinsel around the place, garlands of evergreen and pinecones went around the windows and the baubles were left in the bags, awaiting the start of December when you'd force Chucky to go out and buy a Christmas tree (or, at least, you told him to buy it).

By the time Chucky got home from wherever he had been, you weren't entirely sure anyone he knew was even in town, you had basically finished all the laborious (ha!) decorating.

"It's November," Chucky says sharply, in place of a greeting.

"Don't start," you chide, "It's Thanksgiving this week so it's not too early to get festive, actually." You walk over to him, one final decoration held behind your pack.

"Has me leaving all this shit behind every time we move not clued you in yet? I don't like Christmas."

"You sure there's nothing you like about it?" you ask as he hangs his coat on the hook by the door.

He loosens his tie with a finger, glancing at you suspiciously as you approach, "Pretty fuckin' sure."

Smiling innocently, you hand him what you had hidden behind you, "Hang this above the door for me, would you?"

Chucky looks down at what you're holding. A sprig of plastic mistletoe. His lip curls into a dirty smirk. He feigns nonchalance as he reaches up to hook the mistletoe over the door frame, his shirt coming untucked from his pants as he stretches up.

"Thank you, Chuck," you say, turning slightly as though to leave.

“So," he starts, looking you over pointedly; lips, chest, back to your eyes, "is this the part when we kiss?”

"I thought you didn't like Christmas traditions?"

His lithe fingers wrap around your arm and he nearly chuckles, "Oh, shut up." He pulls you forward, lips pressing to yours as your hand slides under his untucked shirt.

You knew he'd come around to the holidays, one way or another.

#charles lee ray #charles lee ray x reader #brad dourif #holiday prompt fill #how on brand of me to make chucky hate any celebration of any kind lmao #i hope you enjoy this !!#its was so nice to get back into doing prompt fills #it's very productive for me i think #i like my place to be decorated for christmas but i get so bored decorating #to this day though i still have certain parts of my parents house that its left up to me to decorate because its My Job lmao #chucky doesnt mind either way so long as he gets sex and a hot meal

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sadsilktrader · 3 years

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Secret Admirer

I apologize for my extreme tardiness for posting to the Geraskier Holiday Exchange. This was written for @gotfanfiction

A modern Geraskier AU in which Jaskier is receiving gifts from an admirer.

...

"I'm telling you Yen, the man doesn't even know I exist. It can't be him," Jaskier paced the living room of his small apartment, small watering can in hand, completely forgotten. His plants looked on forlornly.

"Hm," she replied, he could hear the scritch-scratch of the emery board while she only half-listened to his prattling. "All I'm saying is that he was there at the pub the night you played and he lives in your building and he can hear you when you practice and those have all been the nights you've got gifts from your secret admirer."

"Half the building goes to that pub, it could be anyone! Plus, he doesn't even know I exist. " He flopped dramatically onto the couch, spilling water on himself. "Anyway, I'll let you go do whatever important business you have to do. You'll be here before my show on Saturday with Triss, right?"

"We'll be there. We just have to drop Ciri off at her dad's first. Now promise me you'll at least talk to him next time you see him."

"Maybe." He grumbled.

"What was that?"

"Fine, fine! I promise!"

"You better. I'm tired of listening to you wistfully sigh every time we speak."

"You're the worst."

"I love you too Jaskier, bye."

The phone clicked.

He'd met Yen online, a friend of a friend of a friend. They played DnD together, starting off as catty enemies and somehow developing into the deep friendship they had now. She was a good person, just a little rough around the edges. Well, very rough around the edges.

She'd settled down a lot over the last few years when motherhood had fallen into her lap though. He wasn’t certain about all the details, they were close but she was a private person. She shared custody of her adopted daughter, Ciri, with her ex. He'd never had the pleasure of meeting the man but he'd heard enough about him to form his own opinions. Heart in the right place but not exactly open about his feelings.

Sounded a lot like his own mysterious love. He sighed again, there was no way it was his gorgeous and stoic upstairs neighbor. The man was gorgeous and kind and lovely. He was tall and pale with silky white hair. Not to mention outrageously muscular. Jaskier had seen him in their apartment's gym working out on more than one occasion. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from openly ogling him. He'd seen him feeding the feral cat that lived in the parking lot. Helping their elderly neighbors with their groceries. Playing with his daughter on the weekends. The man was too good to be true. Which was why he was absolutely positive he couldn't be the one leaving the gifts at his door.

The mystery man was perfect but he, Julian Alfred Pancratz, college drop out, jobless, barely squeezing by with the money he made by doing odd jobs in the apartment complex and occasionally performing at the neighborhood pub, was an absolute mess. There was no way someone like the man would give him more than a passing glance.

He sat up quickly leaving the forgotten, spilled watering can to the side to search for his notebook and pen. At least all the angst and longing seemed to also be a fantastic inspiration.

...

He chewed his lip, the leather-bound notebook balanced on his knee. He strummed a few chords on his guitar before setting it back carefully down to scribble something down.

The sun was fully set now and his balcony light had flicked on giving the small area an ethereal glow. He loved the process of writing and creating outside where he could feel the world around him. There was something about feeling the gentle breeze against him, the sun and moon shining down on him, and the fluttering hummingbirds that visited his feeder that just felt right.

He stretched and yawned and was contemplating packing up for the night when he heard it. A barely-there, soft knock at his door. Eyes gone wide he all but threw his things down and ran to the door to open it. No one. As always. There was however a small box tied in a ribbon and a note attached.

A voice so sweet deserves something sweet in return. -love, your admirer

He undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was an assortment of homemade chocolates. He popped one in his mouth and let it slowly melt over his tongue. Dark chocolate, caramel, sea salt. He couldn't help the sappy smile that plastered itself on his face and would stay there the rest of the night.

It had been a little over a month since the gifts started arriving. Most of the time they were baked goods or sweets of some kind but occasionally it was something different. A clutch of flowers, a silver bracelet with music notes engraved, once there was even a picture of a particularly beautiful sunrise left for him. He treasured them all.

He was a hopeless romantic down to the core of his being. He had never met his admirer but he was sure it would be love at first sight.

…

He was bone tired. He'd spent the day hauling furniture away to the thrift store and painting the walls of one of his elderly neighbors who was soon moving to a rest home. For all the work he was paid thirty dollars and a batch of very good snickerdoodle cookies. He knew it was all the woman could afford to give him and he was grateful for that. Not exactly enough to pay the rent but enough to buy a few groceries at least.

He stood in the deli section, weighing out the pros and cons of value pack meats when he saw him. The man, his white hair hanging loose around his shoulders, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. His breath hitched and his mouth went dry.

Gods how can anyone look that attractive just going to the grocery store.

The man looked up, catching him staring. His eyes the color of amber and honey. He felt like a deer in the headlights caught in his gaze. A few faint scars visible on his face and neck. He couldn't help but wonder if there were more on the rest of the man's body and felt a blush rise to his cheeks.

"It's leaking." The man said.

"What?"

"The honey ham your holding, it's leaking."

He stared at the gorgeous being before him for a moment longer before it clicked.

"Oh fuck," he dropped the squishy package on the ground, ham juices splashing on the both of them.

"Oh, gods I'm so sorry," he wasn't sure his face could get any redder.

"It's okay, really. I've had much worse things spilled on me before. You looked pretty lost in thought."

An employee glared at him with a mop and trash can. He smiled awkwardly, wishing he could just disappear.

"You're the musician, right? I live in the apartment above yours. I can hear you playing from my living room." The way the man said it had him wondering if that was a good thing or not.

"I'm Julian, well Jaskier to my friends and fans." He mustered up the courage he usually reserved for the stage and gave the man his best smile.

"Geralt. I'd shake your hand but," He nodded to his arms full of groceries. "You know when you go into the store thinking you only need one thing?"

"Well, you're in luck," he gestured to his cart, "I just so happen to have the best cart in the store. Not a squeaky wheel in sight."

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely! The life of a musician leads to a very sparse diet. More than enough room for both of us. Plus we're headed to the same place."

Geralt had an amused smirk on his face that made Jaskier's heart skip a beat. Conversation between them came easy. Geralt was the quieter of the two but his dry wit and cheesy jokes had him laughing harder than he had in ages. Handsome and funny.

They made their way back to the apartment complex walking slower than was necessary, he noticed.

"So you have a daughter? I'm not stalking you or anything, I just noticed her around the complex sometimes."

"Ciri," he replied. "My ex and I share custody, its-" he sighed, running his hand through his hair, "it's a bit of a complicated situation actually. But they’re moving closer soon and that should help.”

The elevator stopped at his floor and he stepped off.

“So, I’ll be seeing you.” he mentally berated himself for not being able to come up with something more clever. The door was closing between them and he suddenly shot his hound out, stopping the door.

“Actually, and please forgive me if this is too forward, maybe I could give you my number and we could grab a coffee sometime? Or do our grocery shopping together again?”

Geralt chuckled before reaching into his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times, and passed it over. He added his number with the name Jaskier followed by a heart and music note emoji. The moment the elevator door closed he was dancing, groceries in hand, for his forwardness paying off for once.

…

It was colder tonight but he still played outside until his fingers were near numbing. His cheeks were flushed red from the cold. After his run-in with the man, he felt like he was walking on clouds. The world was at peace and he was the luckiest man in the world. He’d almost forgotten about his secret admirer completely until the same soft knock came from outside the door. Today was different though. Today he was brave and he had left a note for his admirer to find.

I beg of you to reveal yourself to me. I will be performing at the Royal Oak this Saturday. Please, wear this token so I may recognize you amongst the other patrons. Love, Jaskier

He strained his ears and purposely walked slowly to the door, giving his admirer time to leave the gift and find his note. He swore he heard mumbling of words. He closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening the door.

His note was gone and in place of it a container he opened to reveal a miniature-sized three-layered cake elaborately decorated with chocolate-covered strawberries. It was, as always, delicious to the point of sin.

He felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to string along his admirer, especially if things with Geralt turned out well. But he was getting ahead of himself. They had spoken once and here he was already planning their life together.

…

The next few days passed quickly. His wish of getting more work around the complex had come true but he was, unfortunately, unable to do any more practice for his upcoming performance. Every day he came back to his apartment with every intention of playing only to wake up from an unintentional five-hour nap on his couch.

To make matters worse, he hadn’t received a single text from Geralt, and since his sleep schedule was completely messed up he hadn’t caught a single glimpse of him since their last accidental meeting. He thought of swinging by his place to invite him to his show but decided against it. Maybe he needed some space? Maybe he had come off as too clingy? The doubts and second-guesses were mounting.

He arrived at the pub early to set up and get some practicing in before going on stage. Geralt wouldn’t be there but at least, he hoped, his soon-not-to-be secret admirer would be. Inside the note, he’d left a silver brooch of a songbird in flight. It was small but something he would instantly recognize. The glimmer of it from the stage lights would catch his attention. At least that’s what he was hoping. He felt more nervous about this performance than he had in a long while.

“You okay there Jaskier?” The voice came from behind him and he turned to see Triss, her curls down, beautifully framing her face.

“Oh thank the Gods,” he hugged her tight.

“Where’s your better half?” he asked looking around the growing pub’s crowd.

“Outside on the phone. It’s her ex, they don’t argue often but when they do,” she made a face. “Something about him needing her to watch their daughter.”

“Doesn’t he only see her on weekends? What an asshole.”

“Right?”

He felt more at ease with a friendly face by his side and felt even better when Yennifer joined them. He was smarter than to ask her about the phone call and instead chatted about everything and anything to get his mind off his nerves. Time went by more quickly now and soon it was time for him to play.

The second he stepped on stage his demeanor changed. Gone was any trace of nerves and doubt. The stage was his solace, the place he could bare his soul to the masses, or in this case to the forty-odd people crammed into the pub.

It was halfway through his third song when he remembered to keep an eye out for his admirer. He scanned the crowd hoping for the familiar glint to catch his eye but there was nothing. He chewed his lip.

The third song blended into his fourth and fifth. Still nothing. He took a break to grab a drink. He made small talk with Yennifer who raised a delicate brow at him.

"Alright, spill it. What's got you so distracted?"

He finished his drink and let his smile fall into a grimace.

"I left a note. For my admirer. I asked them to come tonight. I left them something to wear so I would recognize them and-"

"And they did show?" She finished for him.

"Nope. Wait how did you know?"

"First off you're terrible at hiding your emotions, and second I was fucking right and you owe me.”

“What?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess I’m partially to blame, I should have realized it earlier.”

“I- what?” he asked again.

“Jaskier. Darling. Sweetheart. I was right.” she said the words slowly as one would do to a small dog.

“Right about what?”

“Your admirer. It’s your neighbor. You never told me but let me guess. Pale, white hair, roguishly handsome, looks like he could snap you in half like a twig?”

“How do you?” He was feeling a little faint now like he was at the edge of realizing something terrible.

“Your neighbor, your admirer, and my ex are all the same person.”

His eyes went wide. It all made sense. All the clues were there but he had just been too dense to put them all together. He’d seen pictures of Yenifer’s daughter but he’d never spent more than a passing glance at Geralt's visiting daughter.

“Oh fuck.” he sat down, suddenly unsure of his legs beneath him.

“He called me right before I came in going on about needing to go out for a few hours and if it was alright with me if he left Ciri alone.” she chuckled. “I told him to not be an asshole and spend time with his daughter.”

Jaskier’s head perked up. Geralt had wanted to come. He hadn’t blown him off.

“I have to go. Fuck, I can’t leave in the middle of a set though.”

Yennifer waved him off, “I’ll sort things off here, you go to him.”

He kissed the top of her head and gave her a quick, tight hug. “You would tell me if this bothered you right? I mean, he’s your ex and all.”

“I think you two would do a very good job at evening each other out, now go!” She smacked him on the shoulder and off he went.

…

He ran home, or at least halfway home before running out of breath and proceeded to briskly walk the rest of the way. He was still trying to decide what to say when he found himself outside the door, sweating profusely and looking an absolute mess. He knocked on the door before he talked himself out of it.

“One minute!” A voice from beyond the door answered followed by the sound of an oven door closing and the chain sliding from the door’s lock.

The door opened. He looked beautiful, even like this, wearing an apron covered in flour cocoa powder. Especially like this maybe.

“I’m friends with Yennifer and she said it was you but I didn’t believe her and I didn’t realize that your daughter Ciri was also her daughter Cirilla which in retrospect should have clued me in but-” he took a deep breath in. Geralt looked nervous and his rambling wasn’t happening. He started over.

“You’re my secret admirer?”

The man blushed. “I am. Is that okay?”

“Very, very okay.” He smiled.

“Would you like to come in? I was just baking. For you.” his blush deepened and Jaskier heart felt like it would burst with affection.

“I’d like that very much.”

#geraskier holiday exchange #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier fanfic #geraskier fanfiction #this is so laaaate #modern au geraskier #secret admirer fic #sometimes I write

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Welcome to Backwater ch.11 (spicyhoney)

Summary: Stretch finally has Edge's address, but as always seems to happen in this town, answering one question only makes two more spring up to take its place.

Read ‘Unconventional Wisdom’ on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The dog spent all morning napping behind the counter, not rising for broom bristles nudging him nor Stretch stepping over him awkwardly so he could grab a few boxes from the top shelf to fill up the front racks. He did snore loud enough to be heard over the radio, but eh, so did Red so Stretch was used to it.

It wasn’t until the jangling cowbell over the door heralded the arrival of a group of kids that the pup gave up on his snoring and wandering out to inspect the new arrivals, tail already happily wagging. Predictably, the kiddos were enamored of their newest employee, although guard dog might be overstating things a bit. Okay, maybe a lot; it looked like Red hadn’t been able to get back to sleep last night because the once-filthy dog with a mess of tangled fur was now freshly washed and brushed, and he smelled a lot like the shower gel from Red’s bathroom. Cleaned up, he was a handsome dog, looking as fluffy as an enormous toasted marshmallow. Not exactly threatening, fluffykins here was probably gonna spend most of his shift on moral support duty.

The little girl who was currently the main recipient of the dog’s enthusiastic face licking giggled and asked, “What’s his name?”

“uh.” That gave Stretch a pause. He shrugged. “doesn’t have a name yet, i’ll have to ask red what he thinks.”

“Should name him Rover,” one boy put in helpfully.

Another boy chimed in, “Or Bingo!”

“Cheeseburger!” A little gal firmly declared as though no other name would do and Stretch couldn’t help laughing.

“is that a name suggestion or a lunch request?” he teased. All the kids giggled, including the one who’d suggested the name and Stretch gave one of her pigtails a gentle tug. “tell you what, here.” He pulled out a pad of paper from under the counter, flipped past the pages filled with inventory lists and cribbage scores to a blank one and wrote carefully at the top, ‘Name Our Dog’. He set it in one corner of the counter triumphantly, “there! now anyone can suggest a name and red can choose the best one.”

All the kids seemed in agreement that this was the best course of action, each taking a turn to scribble their suggestion on the sheet. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if ‘Cheeseburger’ was at the top of Red’s picks.

The kids eventually abandoned the dog and started a round of intense negotiations over what penny treats to buy today. Stretch left them to it, settling to sit on the stool to wait for them to bring up their selections to the register. His mind wandered idly back to newest side quest: getting to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

He’d already tried to look the address up on his phone’s GPS and wasn’t too surprised to see that it didn’t come up, naw, that would be too easy. So, first was figuring out how to get there and second would be figuring out how to get there. Not like he had a car and somehow, he doubted that Backwater had a thriving Uber economy. Maybe he could hitch a lift with someone? People were always coming into town in those big ol’ pickup trucks and the folks around here were pretty friendly, plus Edge seemed to be pretty well known. They all probably knew exactly where Edge lived and stopped by for pie and tea all the time. Surely someone would be delighted to help out, particularly if they were one of the lookie-loos from Mama’s who wanted to see Stretch and Edge on another man date, thank-you-but-no-thank-you.

That would probably be the easiest way to go about it, but Stretch found he was strangely reluctant to take that route. It felt a little like cheating, considering the roundabout way Edge went about handed out his address.

Anyway, if he’d wanted to go down that path, he could’ve simply asked Red days ago, but that right there was an entirely different can of worms that he didn’t want to share with any of the early birds. Red never forbade him from hanging out with Edge, but he’d been pretty clear time and again that he wasn’t too keen on it, either. Might be best if he kept any mentions of Edge to a minimum unless Red brought him up first.

He’d just figure it out himself, thanks, and he wasn’t any puzzle master, not like his bro was, but he had a little pride buried around here somewhere. Edge set him a challenge, damn it, and he was gonna see it through.

His absent gaze strayed down to the pile of bicycles outside the store, kid-sized, sure, but hey, wait a second—

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, and the debate on whether to get two packs of everlasting gobstoppers or three paused as a half-dozen heads perked up like prairie dogs from a sugary plain. “if i wanted to buy a bicycle around here, where would i go?”

Heads ducked down again in a hastily whispered conversation, then the spokeskid popped up again and said, decisively, “Try over at the thrift shop. Miss Maggie always has old bikes for sale.”

“thanks.” He should’ve known. The only other option right in town was the tractor supply shop and while driving up on a John Deere would make a hell of an impression, it was probably well out of his price range. The kids crowded over with their handfuls of spoils and Stretch dutifully rang them up and if he tossed in a dime of his own to cover them, eh, wasn’t like they’d ever know. He handed over a paper sack of treats to a chorus of thank yous and the divvying began before the kiddos even got out of the shop.

“Oh, Edgar Allen said to tell you hi!” One little girl called back to him. She was gone out of the door before he could even think of a reply, all of them clamoring onto their bikes, their faces chipmunk-cheeked with their spoils.

Edgar Allen, shit, yeah, that was right. He’d pretty much been the first stop on this questline and Stretch’d been meaning to do something for him. He’d already rethought the magazine idea; what if it turned out that scarecrows couldn’t read, kinda insensitive there. He’d have to think of something, though, owing someone didn’t sit well with him even if that person didn’t qualify for traditionally alive.

In the meantime, the dog, bereft of childish companionship, wandered back behind the counter and flopped down with a huff, sighing deeply.

“yeah, go on and take a break,” Stretch told him, “you were working pretty hard there.” He stretched out a leg to pet the dog carefully with his foot and wasn’t too surprised that it didn’t care one bit about his shoe, only pliantly rolled over to give him better access to the belly region.

Stretch obediently kept petting, hell, he obeyed better than the dog. But his thoughts were still on the upcoming journey to 637 Wood’s End Drive.

~~*~~

Red relieved him in the shop a little later than normal, looking a lot like he’d just hauled ass out of bed. His shirt was the same one as earlier, only with a fresh crop of wrinkles and his eye lights were still bleary with exhaustion.

Almost, Stretch offered to stay later and let Red get a little more sleep, considering it was his fault Red got woken up in the middle of night. But the baleful glare Red sent his way was an unspoken warning that such an offer probably wasn’t gonna go over well. He kept his jaw shut tight and took the paper sandwich bag Red handed over before heading out the door. Time to get this side quest rolling, literally, he hoped.

The few times he’d met Magdalen May he’d figured right from the get-go that she, like Red, was a partaker of the Sheriff’s son’s prize cannabis crop. Not only because of her dreamy demeanor but also whenever she came into the store, she was surrounded by an almost visible cloud of pot stank so strong that Stretch got a contact buzz while she was shopping through the meagre selection of yarn that Red kept. By the time she left, Stretch would have a craving for Cheetos so strong he’d be ready to start gnawing on his fingerbones for a cronch.

Stepping into the thrift shop was a little like hot boxing in a hoarder’s closet but Stretch soldiered on, squinting as his vision adjusted from the bright light of day to a dimness barely above attic-levels. He went past shelves of gewgaws and boxes of dusty records, old clothes hanging from racks that looked like they’d been commandeered from a lot of remaindered furniture. There were tables piled high with ancient radios, cameras, electronics that Stretch didn’t know the name of and surely didn’t work, existing only to be parted out by an amateur scientist or an electrician in search of cheap parts. Antique glass was set high on the shelves, catching dusty light and sending a kaleidoscope of color to scatter over the room, freckling it in greens, reds, and yellows.

The entire store radiated a glorious sort of chaos and if it weren’t for the fact that he already felt a little woozy, he would’ve stayed for a while and poked through some of the wares. Maybe even find a new book for Red buried in the nearby piles, see if he’d be willing branch out into cowboy romance for a change.

He heading to the back of the shop where Miss Maggie was sitting in a rocking chair surrounded by boxes and shelves, knitting with flashing speed despite the foggy miasma hanging in the air. Her long white hair was smoothly braided and pinned up on top of her head, her weathered skin tanned dark and leathery. The weave of bright yellow yarn trailing from her needles was spread across her lap in an incongruous contrast to her dark, billowing skirt and the light sweater she wore against the chill of the air conditioning.

“Hello, Papyrus,” she greeted him with the sort of rough, croaky voice made over the years by a thousand packs of Marlboros. She didn’t look up, her attention completely focused on her knit and purl.

That gave him one hell of a pause. “how did you—” Stretch stopped. Great, he was in the soothsayer chapter and hadn’t even had time to prep. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really have any room in his life for another side quest, maybe let this one go. He didn’t actually want to know where she got her intel, not really, especially not with his head already spinning a little. He stuck his hands in his pockets to hide the way they wanted to curl into fists, rocking back and forth on his heels. “heya. i haven’t gone by papyrus in years, it’s stretch, thanks.”

“A wise choice,” Miss Maggie said. She sounded…different, somehow. He’d talked to her a few times now and strangely, today he couldn’t seem to place her accent. It wasn’t like the other townsfolk, all of them had a certain warm, down-homey charm, and usually so did she. Her words today were crisp, sharp-edged, nothing like the dreamy peace he was familiar with when she came into the store for coffee creamer and vanilla wafers. She glanced up at him over the wire rims of her glasses, her gaze as sharp as her tongue. “Names have power. A wise man keeps his true name to himself.”

“um. sure,” Stretch couldn’t stop himself from giving the door a longing glance. This was starting to seem like a bad idea, Miss Maggie seemed to be having a personality crisis, maybe he should come back after lunch. “that’s some very handy wisdom, but i’m here about a bike?”

She ignored that. “You have issues with names,” Miss Maggie told him. She kept knitting, needles flashing furiously in a rhythmic clickity-clack as steady as a metronome. “don’t you.”

“huh?” Stretch didn’t exactly have any flesh to get goosebumps with, but he felt a chill nonetheless, prickling maddeningly over his bones. His head was whirling, everything around him seemed to blur except the old woman in front of him. His tongue felt strangely thick as he whispered a question he didn’t want to ask, “i don’t…what do you mean?”

“Mmm, yes,” Miss Maggie sighed out, “so many names you’ve had and rejected. Had and left behind when you ran away, far, far away.”

“stop,” Stretch said weakly. His soul was starting to pulse with aching intensity behind his breastbone. The room filled with an electric heaviness like a coming storm, the rich green smell filling the room suddenly nauseating. “please, don’t.”

“Brother, lover, yes, but never father, not even once.”

“shut up,” Stretch said thickly. Or tried to, the words seemed to clot and stick at the back of his throat, refusing to travel over his useless tongue.

“And now you’re taking on new names,” she raised her head, and here in the dim, her eyes seemed like dark pools of pure blackness that reflected nothing of the flickering overhead lights. Her grin seemed unpleasant and wide, showing pale pink gums in an endless maw. “Is it friend you seek or something else, I wonder?”

As she turned towards him, her sleeve caught on the sugar bowl set on the table next to her, sending it tumbling to the floor. The burst of sound as it shattered pushed through his dazed distance like the snap of dry twig broken over a knee. Stretch jerked, blinking hard, and all the nebulous emotion in him surged forward, gathering and coalescing into real anger. He was starting to get sick of this shit, if everyone in town wanted to act like this place was Sleepy Hollow’s second-cousin, that was fine by him. He was happy to play along, but not if they were gonna keep sticking their shovels into his past to see what other skeletons they could dig up.

“look, fuck you,” Stretch snapped out. He turned back to the door, tossing over his shoulder. “never mind, i’ll figure out something else!”

“Wait!” And he didn’t want to wait, he wanted to push on through the door, but his stubborn feet suddenly refused to move. Miss Maggie clumsily thrust aside her knitting, hardly noticing her teacup wobbling, spilling tea and leaves out into her saucer in a wild splash. That funky weird woman vibe abruptly eased and so did some of the stench in the air, flavored instead with lavender tea. She waddled over to him, her long skirt dragging on the floor. Even bent over with age, she was impressively tall, hardly shorter than Stretch was, and he was a mini-skyscraper to most Humans. She looked up at him, her eyes a watery, pale blue, surrounded by a sea of wrinkles, how could he ever have imagined they were anything else?

Miss Maggie reached up to touch his cheekbone with fingers nearly as thin as his own.

“Oh, sweet child,” she said with mournful gentleness, and her voice was the smoky-sweet, grandmotherly one he recalled. “S’all right. Ain’t nothing wrong with setting aside a name you’ve outgrown, nor in taking on a new one.”

All his bright, burning anger collapsed inwardly, a card house with the center support removed, and hurt welled in him instead. He was crying, he realized distantly, tears stinging in his sockets, running down his cheekbones to gather on wetly his chin. He didn’t realize he was going to speak until he did, choking out, “it feels wrong.”

“How you feel and how things are don’t always match,” she agreed. She held out her arms, her gnarled hands open to him and Stretch leaned into them, burying his face in the soft, knitted shawl draped over her shoulder. She smelled like weed and lavender, a strange, exotic mixture. “i’ll get you all wet,” Stretch mumbled, muffled into the cloth.

She petted his skull gently, “It’s all right, child. I’ll dry.”

He held on tightly for a long time and when she finally drew back, she lightly touched his forehead with the tips of two dry fingers.

“You can get to his home through the forest,” she said, and it seemed to Stretch he could almost see it, clear as a picture someplace behind his sight. “Follow the exchange down about a mile, you’ll see a turnoff on the left. Don’t you stray from the path, you hear me, sonny?” Those pale, rheumy eyes searched his face for understanding. “Easy to get lost out there.”

“i won’t.”

“Good.” She let him go and shuffled back to her chair to picked up her knitting again. “Now, you mentioned something about a bike.”

For a moment, Stretch stood there, practically wobbling on his feet. He felt like he’d woken up from an unexpected nap, still floating in between the sleeping and waking worlds. Then he blinked, snapping awake, and looked around almost wildly. Until his gaze snagging on one of the shelves, or more specifically, something sitting on it, and held.

“a bike, i did.” Stretch walked over to the shelf where a bandana was sitting, a bright turkey-red plaid, and picked it up, holding it out for Miss Maggie to see. “how much for this, too?”

By the time he left the shop, he was in a fine mood despite his savings being a little lighter. He was pushing a rattly old bike with a squeaky chain and a horn that let loose with a hoarse ‘awhooga’ when the dusty rubber bulb was squeezed. The bandana was stuffed into his short’s pocket and the first thing he was gonna do was deal with that, then he’d worry about some maintenance. Probably better to find out if his new bike was streetworthy before taking his act on the road.

He used the walk back to the store to draw in a few deep, refreshing breaths of the heat-smoggy air, letting it clear his head.

“miss maggie sure smokes some strong shit,” Stretch muttered to himself. He left the bike leaning against the porch around back and headed over to the main road, taking his normal walking route down towards the corn. There were no kids on the makeshift baseball diamond today, looked like they’d headed off somewhere else to enjoy their penny candy.

The grass was yellowed and dying under his sneakers as he went off the beaten path, heading towards the rustling corn. Was it his imagination, or did those whispers get louder as he approached, even eager? The corn got lonely sometimes, Edgar Allen had said, but it didn’t mean any harm.

Somehow, he didn’t think the skeleton they’d found in the fields back in Doris’s day would agree.

“um, hi?” Stretch tried. There was no one around to see him and he still felt ridiculous, talking to the damn corn. “look, i dunno if you can understand me, but if you do, could you see that edgar allen gets this? i wanted to thank him for helping me out and i thought it’d look good on him.”

Carefully, he laid the bandana over a crux of green leaves and stalk, tugging to make sure it wouldn’t simply blow away. He left it there and turned back to town, hoping that the scarecrow got the message; as much as he wanted to thank the guy, he really didn’t feel like taking a second go in the corn maze to do it. He didn’t look back until he got back to the side of the road and there he paused, frowning. The splash of red should’ve been vivid against the sea of green but there was nothing, not so much as a glimpse.

He craned his neck, searching, but it hadn’t fallen to the ground and the wind wasn’t strong enough to carry it off. Maybe the corn had gotten the message after all? Yeah, he was going with that, and he headed back to take a look at his new bike, hands in his pockets and whistling cheerfully, which was a heck of a trick for someone without lips.

Yeah, he felt pretty good today and why not? He had a place to stay, a job, someone looking after him, and a dog. And now he had a bike. Things were looking up, Stretch decided.

Things were looking up.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #welcome to backwater

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chickenscript · 4 years

Text

specs (rottmnt x reader)

A/N: originally wrote this a couple months ago. i haven't been keeping up very well with things lately honestly (-｡-;

it's mostly platonic and started out as an idea based on donnie having glasses being cannon. then it turned into a bit of angst. there's just a lot more going on than what i planned for.

hope you all enjoy though!

and sorry again for the spotty updates. i'm having another dive in mojo and it's been hard to think things up. but i'll write when i can and try to get to stuff in my inbox soon (^◇^；)

---

Donnie didn't wear glasses much anymore.

He ditched his specs for contact lens the moment he could. Being around his rowdy brothers always shortened the life span of his glasses and he was done with repairs and having to scour for replacements. But, there's still occasions where he needs to refresh his stock of contact lens and has to break out his glasses in the meantime.

The softshell turtle huffed and pushed his glasses up his snout again, squinting a bit as he looked at the parts of his newest project that he was stitching the wire guts together for. There was a steady thump going in the back of his head. He lost track of how long he'd been working hours ago and his vision was starting to get slightly hazey.

He sat up in his chair, stretching to relieve the crick in his back and rolled his shoulders with a rumble. The blades felt as stiff as his back muscles but the discomfort wasn't anything new.

Donnie pulled off his glasses to swab at a greasy smudge on the lens with a handkerchief from his work table, and he could hear footsteps and the crinkle of plastic bags approaching his lab.

“Hey Dee.”

He turned in his chair, placing his glasses back onto his face.

You had a plastic slung over your shoulder- probably filled with some goodies you got on the way there from some 24/7 store, and your bookbag.

You let out a gentle guffaw when you spot the change in your friend’s look, “Since when did you wear glasses?”

Donatello sat back, checking notifications on his phone as you asked.

“Well, who said I never did. There’s such a thing as contact lens.” he answered matter of factly.

You go up to his work table to drop your haul of snacks down and shoulder off your bookbag.

“I mean, I knew you wore contact lens but I’ve never seen you with those.” you’re obviously staring at him still and he looks up at you from over the rim of his square framed glasses.

They’re held together by tape in the middle and it was like he’s never not worn them in front you before.

You tilt your head and give a slight smile, “They look good on you.”

Donnie isn’t really sure how to take the compliment and uses a skinny finger to push up his glasses again.

“Thanks.” he mumbled, clicking off the screen of his phone and dropping it back onto his desk.

You start sifting through the snacks you bought, “I stopped by that Asian market again- they had some great deals today.”

It was always a cheap spot to get good Japanese munchies from, but there were some really good sales tonight. You pulled out a few bottles of ramune, lining them up on the table, and then a few packs of various chips and tossed one to Donnie that you knew he was very fond of.

It crunched in his grasp as he caught it with ease, and he quickly popped it open. A salty, savory scent wafting into his snout.

He looked over at the time in the corner of one of the monitors on his work table.

“Only 3am?”

You chuckled, “How long has it been since you last slept anyway?”

The turtle hummed for a moment, posing his fingers against his chin thoughtfully.

“Two days maybe.”

You remember his longest sleepless stint was five days. He crashed severely hard and got a head cold. He was miserable for about two weeks after that, mostly because his body kept forcing him to shut down and sleep much earlier and frequently than he would normally.

“Haven’t even napped?” his sleeping system had a lot to do with him taking several hour naps in between working before crashing at some point and getting legit bed rest.

“No.” he yawned, his pointy molars peeking out.

“Well, I think it’s bed time.”

He grunted from under the crunch of his crab and seaweed flavored chips, giving you a look.

You pulled your sweatshirt over your head and threw it Donnie’s way. He ducked- not that you expected to hit him. You also slipped off your shoes, thinking about how it was hitting the colder months now. But, it was especially cold for November because of the Arctic blast heading over the states. Your fingers and toes were definitely feeling the backlash, and you probably should’ve worn a jacket.

You knew the colder weather has been affecting the boys too.

Despite Donnie not wanting to sleep, you could see the lethargy written on his face. Probably didn’t help that he was only wearing sweats.

You started to rethink the ramune and crave something warmer.

“I’m gonna go make some hot chocolate. Pick out a movie.”

Donnie grumbled a reply and you padded out the lab on your toes.

The other turtles had long since went to bed, or at least you thought they did, so it spooked you when you nearly ran into Leo.

He was coming from the direction of the bathroom and looked awfully run down.

“Oh hey,” your name got caught up in a long, showy yawn. Even the red stripes on his face look a little duller, like they were as tired as the turtle.

You chuckle off the scare and knocked on his plastron with a knuckle. You were surprised he didn’t have a shirt on with his baggy pajama pants and tube socks.

“Hey sleepyhead. I’m making hot chocolate- think you can stay up long enough to wait for a cup?”

Leonardo sleepily nodded and followed you to the kitchen. You kept him awake while you prepped the hot cocoa with some idle chatter. Once you talked about the blandness of your school day, he spoke about the rigorous and very tiring new training routine Splinter was putting the turtles through.

"It's crazy- he's never pushed us like this. It's like he's preparing us to go to war or something."

Something somber hit you and Leo could tell.

Splinter finally cracked down on the boys because of the Kuroi Yuroi, and ever since you found out about, you've been fearful.

Something about it and what it was made your skin quiver. It brought this feeling that a storm was heading everyone’s way and there was nothing you could do about it. Even Leo's reassurances that they would get through whatever would come just fine, you...

You didn’t like feeling so helpless.

The hot chocolate reached a peak boil and you hurry to pour out three mugs worth. You turn to bade Leo a goodnight and get a tight hug you didn't expect. But, the wrinkle in your brow and the way your lips were set in a firm line before, tipped Leo off that you probably needed one.

You hug back and couldn't say you weren't thankful for how it managed to help mellow out the bad feeling lingering in your gut. When you both let go, Leo ruffled your hair with a smirk.

You swat at him before giving him his share of hot cocoa- it was in the blue Sonic mug he loved so much -, and then grabbing your own mug and Donnie’s too.

When you got back to the lab, Wolf Children was about ten minutes in and Donnie was roosted on his pillow stuffed loft, swaddled in a thick and colorful, patchy quilt. It was one of the many things you and April found while spelunking at thrift shops for stuff for the boys.

You wondered how full April's hands were with helping them out before you came along to help with outings like that.

"Nice choice." you refer to the movie and reach up to give Don the mugs so you could climb up and join him on the plush perch.

"Ghibli always is." he lifted his mug to his lips and let you take half of the quilt and huddle under it with him, passing your mug back when you were settled.

The both of you sipped at your hot cocoa in a warm silence as you watched the movie.

While you couldn’t do much about what was going to happen in the future, you were holding out that the Hamato family would turn up on the winning side and nothing as horrible as you felt would happen to them in the end.

Donnie leaned against you, seeming to detect your internal distress- that or he just wanted to get closer to your body heat. You think maybe it was both because somehow. Even with the new central heating the boy genius managed to cleverly cobble together for the lair, his skin felt staticy and cool to the touch against your arm.

You hold your mug a little tighter, staring into the last bit of chocolate sludge swishing around the bottom.

You really did hope this storm didn’t come.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #donatello #leonardo #reader insert #my writing

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fire-the-headcanons · 4 years

Text

What's WeaponsEx?" Raven asked.

"There's a big weapons convention every summer in Vale. Tons of businesses show off new stuff. Dust companies, arms manufacturers, defense engineers—" he said.

"And there's an entire wing of the hall for comics!"

"You mean recruiting."

"Yeah, same difference. There's costume contests, artists answer questions and sign autographs—"

"And they get a few famous Huntsmen to come too," he finished.

Qrow listened with an intensity usually saved for forging class. "Whoa, cool."

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're drooling."

Follow the Beacon Taiyang—COSTumes

[Link to Masterpost]

[Hey, look! A normal-length chapter!]

"Ramparts! For all of your cosplay needs!" Summer declared, throwing the door open dramatically. The Taupes followed her in, looking around in confusion.

"This is a costume store?" Raven asked, brushing through a rack of sweaters.

"Thrift store," Tai corrected. "People donate old clothes, they sell 'em cheap, and the money goes to charity. Summer likes to find stuff and make alterations."

"Come on, let's look at suits!" She grabbed Qrow's wrist and hauled him off toward the men’s section. Amused, Tai and Raven followed.

"Okay, we want to find a green suit and vest for Ozpin, and a red suit for Pete," Summer said, already digging through the racks for anything near the right colors. "Preferably double-breasted, but we probably won't find one. We can sew a little gold ribbon around the edges to make it look like him. I've got a scarf we could tie like his ascot. What about shoes? Should we get shoes?"

He accepted the hideous maroon suit she was holding out. "Our uniform shoes will be fine, Summer."

"Yeah, you're right." She was in her natural habitat now, comparing every dark green suit in the store to one of their photos from Ozpin's file. It only took a few minutes for her to pop back out of the racks with a three-piece that looked to be about Qrow's size. "Try it on!"

"Uh…" He eyed it warily, holding it in front of his face.

"We are not spending four thousand lien on something you're only going to wear once," Raven said, glaring at the tag.

She had a point. Tai glanced over Summer's shoulder at the photo on the scroll, searching for another solution. "Y'know, Ozpin's suit is really dark—the uniform jacket and pants would probably work fine if we got a green turtleneck to put under it."

"I was thinking just a scarf for that bit, actually," Summer said, running to the end of the aisle and grabbing one with horrible stringy fringe. "We'll tuck the ends in under the jacket. Cardboard will work for his tie-pin-thing, and then all we need are some glasses."

The bin was right next to Tai, and he started rifling through. "None of these look like Ozpin's."

"Those weird bendy parts on the sides are probably custom. Just grab some small round ones."

He held up a pair he’d seen almost immediately, and Qrow gingerly took them.

"How does he see though them?" he muttered, squinting. "These are tiny."

"They're also only thirty lien 'cause the lens is cracked, but we can take them out back at school."

"What should we get for the Carmine costume?" Tai asked. "I don't think we're going to find a leather apron here. Or for less than fifty thousand lien."

"What? No, I'm wearing the one I didn't finish in time for WeaponsEx!"

"Come on, you can wear it next year. We've gotta match. Nobody will be able to see the detail on it in the dark anyway!"

"Fine," she sighed, grabbing maybe the ugliest brown dress in existence off the rack behind her. It looked about six sizes too big for her, layered with thick ruffles in multiple shades. "I'll cut patches of the darker lining for the embossing Carmine has around the edges. There should be plenty of fabric."

She just couldn’t do a sewing project halfway. "That's still way more effort than you need to put into this."

"What's WeaponsEx?" Raven asked.

"There's a big weapons convention every summer in Vale. Tons of businesses show off new stuff. Dust companies, arms manufacturers, defense engineers—" he said.

"And there's an entire wing of the hall for comics!"

"You mean recruiting."

"Yeah, same difference. There's costume contests, artists answer questions and sign autographs—"

"And they get a few famous Huntsmen to come too," he finished.

Qrow listened with an intensity usually saved for forging class. "Whoa, cool."

Raven rolled her eyes. "You're drooling."

"Yeah, it's where the SDC unveiled the Guillotine last year." Summer said, still thumbing through the suits. "The easiest way to do Professor Mesánychta's suit would be to splatter-paint stars onto the school uniform, but anything that would show up might not wash out…"

"Flour." Tai pointed out.

"Ooooh! Yeah!"

Raven frowned. "It'll just fall off."

"Not while you're wearing it! Your aura kinda holds it in place—I speak from experience. We can make her headband out of cardboard too. Lucky so many of the staff wear dark suits."

They brought their things up to the registers, the twins looking much more at ease with their two hundred lien price tag.

"So, where should we eat?" Summer chirped.

"…We're not going back to the school?" Qrow and Raven shared an anxious look.

"Well… we could, but it'd take like two hours to fly there and back," she said. "Besides, don't you want to go somewhere other than the cafeteria?"

"Maybe, uh, we'll just meet up with you again after, then…" Qrow stammered.

"What? Come on, that'll take ages," Summer said with a wave. "Come with us to Goldenrod's! We go every time we’re in Vale, they have these giant noodle bowls, it's great—”

"We'll meet you there in a half hour," Raven said. "There's a comic store Qrow wanted to look at."

Why were they—oh. They hadn't been worried about the cost of the suit just because it was frivolous. Tai's ears burned with secondhand embarrassment. "Uh, Sum—"

Summer tilted her head. "You know I love comics… Why don't we all go after lunch?"

Qrow straightened up, bracing himself. "Because we don't have any money."

Raven shot him a panicked glare as Summer wilted. "…Oh." She fiddled with her hands for a second before shoving them into the pockets of her hoodie. "Sorry, I…"

"I—I mean, it's been nice looking around with you two—"

"We'll buy today," Tai said quickly. Anything to make the awkward stop.

"You don't have to—" Raven began.

"No, come on, it's team bonding time! We've got you. And next time we come to town we'll just pack a lunch."

* * *

"So, have you ever visited Mistral?" Summer asked, errantly drumming on the table as they waited. "I guess you said you were from southern Anima, that'd be a long trip…"

"It was. We went twice."

Her eyes widened. "Really? What's it like? I don't really remember Anima that well."

"It's…more dangerous than Vale," he said, glancing out of the window at the end of their booth. "Unless you're rich. We mostly kept our heads down. …What about your home? What's Patch like?"

Summer shrugged. "Not much to say. It's just a little port town on an island outside Vale. Forest on the west side has some Grimm, nothing big enough to be a real threat."

"It's the most boring place in existence," Tai sighed.

"At least you'd have ships to look at," Raven said. "There is nothing on Remnant less interesting than a farm." Everyone stared at her for a half-second, she'd been her usual withdrawn self all day. She flinched at the sudden attention. "…I've always liked boats."

"Me too," Summer admitted. "But, sailing boats. With sails. You know, the old-fashioned windy kind, not the new big loud cargo ships."

Nobody liked the giant—usually Atlesian—monsters that would barge into the harbor at all hours. Tai gestured with his chopsticks. "Ugh, and that one asshole that always runs too close to the north side of the island and wakes everyone up in the middle of the night!"

"Well, hey, why don't we go to the docks after the comic store? We could take pictures and stuff!"

"Because your camera’s broken. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Her face fell a little. "Well, we can still look around."

"There's not actually a comic store," Raven admitted. "We were trying to buy time."

Summer reached across the table, taking her hand in both of hers. "Raven. You're not getting out of going to the comic shop with me and Qrow just because you made it all up."

Raven rolled her eyes, the ghost of a real smile playing around her mouth. "Fine."

Next Chapter: Summer—Mission Critical

[Yet another chapter of Qrow is a Nerd. ‘Suave flirt’ is a valid interpretation of the text, it’s just not my interpretation]

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #strq #team strq #taiyang xiao long #summer rose #qrow branwen #raven branwen #ozpin #peter port #zelenia mesánychta #carmine eitri #follow the beacon #mine

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diningpageantry · 5 years

Text

Nemesis

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979847

Word Count: 2040

Summary: Simon and Baz work at opposing coffee shops with a little more than your typical rivalry against each other. (POV Simon)

Carry On Countdown 2018 Day 19: Coffee Shop AU

“Oh will you stop teasing each other? Fucking hell.” The toothbrush nearly falls from my hand, head spinning to look at Penny leaning against the doorframe. Part of me resists claiming that I’m not ‘teasing’ him; I’d just told her through a frothy mouthful that I’d written his name as ‘Bass’ again today, and now she has the bollocks to tell me that we’re flirting?

“We’re not flirting, Penn,” I mumble, taking the brush out for a moment before jabbing it back into my mouth and scrubbing. I’m looking in the mirror when she responds, only seeing the back of her head, but by her gesture I can tell she’s got some sort of feeling here.

She snorts, raising her hands in the air. “You said flirting, not me.”

I roll my eyes, scrubbing my mouth for a solid 15 more seconds before spitting out a mouthful of soft green foam and rinsing my mouth, turning to Penny and pointing a finger at her. “We are not flirting. He’s practically my nemesis; why the hell would I flirt with my nemesis?”

A loud snort comes from her throat. “I think nemesis is a tad of an over exaggeration. You work at opposing shops, it isn’t like he killed your first born.”

Twisting the cap off the mouthwash, I roll my eyes and let out a “not yet” under my breath. That deserves me a solid pinch on the arm.

And like that, she disappears into her room and leaves me here to sulk, staring into my eyes through the bathroom mirror, cheeks full of burning rinse. I gargle, then spit, eyes locked down on the drain as I flick the water back on and brush it over my lips, then splash it in a wave over my face. Once, twice, then grab a towel and pat myself dry.

I don’t know why I agreed to go to this party knowing that he’ll be there.

All six feet (and maybe a few odd inches), perfect hair, flawless cheekbones and eyebrows and bloody fucking eyes and pretty much the rest of his god awful face of him.

All his fucking sharp dressing, condescending, “I’m-Better-Than-You-Because-I-Shop-Local”, leather wearing, sports car driving, posh accent-having of him.

Basilton fucking Pitch is gonna waltz right up to the party, probably his fucking henchmen at his sides because that’s what they are; he’s practically a supervillain. If you caught Basilton Pitch in a dark room with a spotlight in a turned around armchair, I can nearly guarantee that it’d spin around with him stroking a white, longhaired cat and you’d be like “Well fuck, this is where he belongs”. Even the name sounds like he’s got a master plan to destroy you (or maybe just steal your fucking customers by guiltripping them into thinking that by going chain for anything is killing local businesses). I need tips, too, and not all of us have rich fathers at home who can pay for what benefits cover instead of shitty corporate options.

Standing in front of my mirror, I scan over my sad excuse for a party outfit. I feel like a fucking fool whenever I’m next to him. It’s probably because he wears ridiculous button downs that don’t even have breast pockets somehow while I stand next to him in a 1970s nike tee that I found in a thrift shop dollar bin.

I grab a hoodie as I step out of the bathroom, throwing it on while patting around for my wallet and phone.

It feels like Penny’s practically dragging me there. Honestly, I have no idea whose party this is; shit, all I know is that Baz is gonna be there. Even when I asked Penn, she was vague about every part of it. “Oh, the host’s someone I met in a baseline Business Writing course.” When I’d asked what the hell ‘business writing’ even entails, I ended up bored and tuned her out after hearing ‘grant writing’ and ‘sponsorship proposals’.

You’d think that a student who takes ‘Business Writing’ wouldn’t be so popular, but here we are, a crowded one bedroom, one bath flat ten minutes from campus filled with the reek of spilt beer and hot from people’s continuous breathing.

It takes me nearly five minutes to actually get to the alcohol, and once I get there, I just grab a beer and start chugging.

Add a few shots, maybe one more beer, then definitely another shot or two and I’m completely smashed, eating half a pizza slice in one bite as I sway to the music blasting on the speaker by my ankle. I think it’s Whitney Houston, or Kesha. I can’t remember.

And there he fucking is, across the room with his head leaned back against the wall all coolly. His hair’s knotted up in some bun, and his eyes are shut. You’d probably mistake him as sleeping upright, somehow in full fucking control of his body (honestly, wouldn’t put it past him), but instead he’s got a slight nodding to the music going. He’s got a drink in hand, mostly finished.

I don’t realize my feet have been taking me to him until I’m staring close enough that I can count the eyebrows on his forehead, then he snaps his eyes open to me. Immediately, his lips pull down into a snarl and his gaze narrows in on me. “Snow.”

My jaw hangs open as I squint at him and slur a “Basilton”, trying not to lean forward and topple myself over. My feet steady on the floor, a little too far apart for a normal pose, but I guess I could be preparing for a physical brawl.

He sticks his nose up at me, slowly raising his cup to his lips and sipping with unfair grace. As he pulls away, his lip’s shiny and dripping a tad. Clearly he's fucking pissed and didn’t catch the last drop . My first thought is to lick it up, but then I trickly try to snap away from it.

I want to ask myself why I'd want to lick that up, but that’s a loaded question and I don't think I can even think in “real” sentences right now.

“Who invited you?” I half taunt, raising my eyebrows to him. I’m trying to be intimidating, but it’s failing miserably. In return, he’s just making a deeply offended face and retorts back.

“It’s an open party; I had a class with Megan. And Dev fancies her.” His head tilts slowly to the side as he talks, eyes resting boldly on mine. He rarely seems to break eye contact, making me squirm under his intense gaze.

I snort, raising my eyebrows to him in a very Baz-manner to mock him. “Good thing you’ve got classes; can’t stay making shit lattes all your days.”

He just laughs back; shortly, all in my face (granted, we’re practically in breathing room). “At least I have a future beyond barista tips, Snow.”

“Funny, you talk all up about your fuckin… free… range… beans… then look at you, eh? Economics major, dickwad.”

“I’m no fucking capitalist,” he spits, sneering down at me. I think I’ve leaned closer, because I can see the close details of the recently shaved smoothness of his chin. “You work low wages for a large company without good benefits, you’re fucking bold.”

“I’ve got benefits! Loads!” I call out, waving my arms to the side. My beer sloshes in my hand, spilling a bit onto the carpet. I disregard it, feet stumbling forward. “I’ve got plenty of customers too, since they can read our fucking menu.”

He gasps this time. Genuinely, outright gasps in the meanest way I’ve ever heard anybody fucking gasp, staring at me and looking borderline hurt. “My cursive is exquisite, you uncultured heathen.”

I smile with my entire face, wrinkling my nose up at him. “I don’t scare away my customers though, mister big fuckin cranium! And see! I can speak in big fucking words, arsehole.”

Now he looks more confused than anything, squinting at me as his jaw hangs open and eyebrows knit together. He blinks, squinting further. “You… are quite possibly one of the most pea-brained people I’ve ever encountered,” he laughs square into my face. I think our noses are touching. “Do you think about the words as they leave your mouth? It’d be a goddamn miracle if they even went through any critical thinking process!”

“I’m fucking loveable,” I hit back, head swaying a bit as I talk (or maybe just tilting? Leaning? What the fuck is happening?) “Everyone thinks I’m a ball of fucking love, bitch.”

“You’re more than insufferable, that’s what you are,” he breathes into me.

Then, what feels like out of nowhere (or perhaps it isn't), I’m pushing him against the wall. His mouth’s against mine, and he tastes like the poorly mixed drinks he’s probably been downing all night. Vodka, spiced rum, sugary juices and lemon lime fizzy. I don’t think the taste matters much, though. I don’t think anything really matters much, frankly, because he’s currently spilling the rest of his drink down my back as he wraps his arms around my neck and hauls me closer. I couldn’t care less. I’m on my tiptoes, snogging the life out of him in the middle of this party (I want to take him home and see how he's look below me). He’s leaning down, kissing me back like I’m worth all the air in his lungs (seriously, I need him in my bed now.)

Seems like he’s got the same thought on his mind because the hand on my back keeps tugging my tee, taking fistfuls and just holding me towards him, not letting me go (I might not fully know what I’m doing, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a mistake).

It isn’t until Penny finds us, tugging my shoulder away from Baz and starting to pull me back from him. He lets out a whine, eyes wide as I’m dragged off and Penny shoves herself between us. “You are trashed,” she accuses, poking a finger at my chest before swivelling to Baz. “You are trashed too.” She glances between us then huffs. “Give me your phone.”

“Fuck you, Bunce, I was in the middle of something” Baz mumbles, dragging his phone out and slapping into her palm. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever met anybody with the balls to say that to her. Fuck it, I was that something was in the middle of, but she just looks like she has some sort of feeling (I don’t really know, she’s complicated and usually she says a lot of words that I don’t entirely get and the musics really loud and god I need to pee). While I'm struggling to figure out the situation with my lips not attached to Baz's, Penn types something into the phone and shoves it back into his hands.

“Dial his number in the morning. If you dare fucking ghost him, I'll show up to your flat with a knife and I'll make a handbag out of your skin,” she says flatly, grabbing me by my wrist and dragging me out as I’m complaining loudly. She doesn’t stop dragging me until we’re back to the flat.

After probably the best piss of my life, I find her waiting in the hall with her arms crossed, looking awfully pleased with herself.

I groan, rubbing my face as I practically stagger in place, giggling to the spinning motion of the room. “I wasn’t making a mistake, Penn,” I mumble, rubbing my face as my shoulder leans against the wall (it’s an awfully tight hallway).

“I know, Si,” she says, tutting as she opens my bedroom door for me. “Just get some sleep; you’re going to have to actually use your brain tomorrow and figure wherever the fuck that was..”

“I was snogging,” I mumble. “That's all.”

“With Baz?”

I shrug, smiling at the memory of his lips against mine. Penn just scoffs behind (beside?) me.

“You're gonna have to talk to him, Si.”

I groan again, this time much louder, hitting the pillow and nuzzling into it immediately. “Mmmm I hate that.”

“I know, I know. Goodnight, Simon.”

“Mmmhmm nighty nighttime, Penny.”

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plintern · 6 years

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Week 4

Monday, July 2 to Friday, July 7

Monday: Here we go again!

Man, is it a Monday. Tough to wake up this morning, but this was the Monday to wake me up--two programs to attend and a lunch with my mentor and her boss. I started off the day at the newest of my library’s branches to perform for children during a Music Lab. Our library’s summer theme is music, and all three branches are hosting Music Labs on the same weekday every week for the rest of July to introduce children 5 and under to music. There are some easy crafts (like coloring pages and bookmarks), a guitar (with only three strings…) and electric piano for the kids to play around on, and laptops to explore types of music. A part of my job this summer is attending nearly every Music Lab in July, and today was my very first one. I’m not quite sure yet what my Labs may look like at other branches, but today I set up shop in the corner of the storytime room where these Labs take place. I played a variety of pieces on my cello that were already in my repertoire--mostly movements from the Bach solo cello suites. I was amazed to see the smiling and wondrous faces of the kids as they heard the music through the doorway and meandered in. It was inspiring. In essence, I provided a backdrop of music to the walk-in climate of the Music Lab, for both parents and their little ones. It was adorable!

Afterwards, I drove across the city back to my office to meet up with my mentor and her boss (the executive director from the branch I visited last Friday--remember him?). It was a wonderful lunch that helped us break the ice further than our conversation on Friday. We talked just about everything, from the World Cup to superheroes to poetry! The taco-filled lunch was splendid.

I returned to my office, stomach full, to get some quick work in before heading to yet another branch for a Kid Zone program. At this program, subtitled “You Can Hear Music On That?” I assisted an Early Literacy librarian with showing young kids (aged 6-8) how music has progressed throughout the years in terms of how it is listened to. From phonographs to Amazon’s Echo, displays were set up around the room for children to look at (and hear) the transformation of music. She introduced the program by showing them some music boxes and explaining how to be careful with each of the devices available. The children were also given half-sheets of blue paper and a music pencil to complete a matching game, where they connected each musical device to the date in which it was invented. Kids mostly exercised self-autonomy as they traveled from game to game. Initially, most were drawn to the Amazon Echo--they loved asking Alexa to play different Kidz Bop songs for them. At some point I attempted to meme it up by saying “this is so sad alexa play despacito,” but I garnered not even a mere chuckle, not even from the 15 year old volunteer that was also with us. Alas, I am left to meme in solitude.

Following Alexa, the kids were very drawn to the Code-A-Pillar, a caterpillar with detachable segments with different tasks that when assembled caused the technological critter to advance in a form dictated by the ‘codes.’ I myself observed the children converse with Alexa and giggle with the insect, but seeing as they were autonomous, I ventured around the room to the sole children who were exploring some older gadgets, to see what, perhaps, they may need. Eventually, I ended up at the station with the record player, and my attention for the next several minutes was completely enraptured with these vinyls. Most of the devices used to share music with these children came from the EL Librarian’s own haul, and she found most of these vinyls at a local thrift store. I popped several into the record player, and particularly found myself drawn to one that featured Victor Herbert, my favorite composer.

After perusing the records, I helped the kiddos build a music box together, make music necklaces and bracelets, take care of snacks, and then clean up at the conclusion of the event, all while playing my cello intermittently. While cleaning, I commented to the librarian how much I enjoyed her records, and to my surprise, she said I could keep all nine of the records in the collection that housed the Herbert. Astounded and grateful, I took home two physical momentos: the set of nine records and a music bracelet I added to my cello case. More than that, though, was what I learned: it takes very little to make a kid’s day.

Tuesday: Driving is my job.

Much like yesterday, where I began work at one branch, traveled to the office, and then to another branch, today consisted of much travel. I began the day at the same branch I did yesterday. Here, I had an intimate Every Child Ready to Read training alongside a new Library Assistant with the same EL Librarian who led the Kid Zone yesterday. I came to the astute observation that I adore this librarian. Her teaching methods are subtle, yet precise, and she kept both I and the assistant engaged throughout the training. The presentation consisted of an explanation of the importance of children reading and the importance of the five practices: talking, singing, reading, writing, and playing. Here are some of the activities she had us do to try and understand how children think at their pre-reading age. Try them out and let me know how well you do!

Activity 1: Decipher this code: [ *<: }><#. Using the following alphabet:

A< B/ C* D# E> F+ G\ H** I[ J= K) L] M~ N: O]] P{ Q++ R} S// T^ U! V[[ W(( X>> Y\\ Z|

This forces us to associate figures with letters, much as children learn to read pictures before they learn to read letters and words. To them, letters are just pictures.

Activity 2: Write your name on a piece of paper with your non-dominant hand (if you’re ambidextrous… no fair).

This activity forces us to use a different part of our brain: rather than writing our name, we are drawing it. This is much like a child who is learning to use a new part of their brain, and is drawing the image of their name.

In addition to these activities, she also had us learn about different puppets and activities she utilizes during storytimes to engage kids by talking (Heggity Peggity Hen). singing (nursery rhymes), reading (Ten Little Fingers & Ten Little Toes), writing (drawing name), and playing. This last one is the one I learned the most about. She taught us that children’s play is their work, as it is them figuring out the world around them. There are three types of play--single, parallel, and group--that happen in stages as children develop and discover themselves. She also provided us with resources to use and give to children. Afterwards I took my time to explore the branch and become comfortable with the spaces. I was already pretty familiar with this branch, as it was the location in which I studied for my SAT and ACT exams, but then again I only stayed in the study sections and fiction shelves in those dark times. So, I revisited the storytime room I played in yesterday, and the rest of the small area. This is our smallest branch, so there wasn’t much to see, but it gave me a better understanding and sense of home to spend some time on my own in the area. When finished, I went off to a personal appointment, and then traveled to another branch across town.

Here, I took part in my second-ever Music Lab. This branch had a much different environment--yesterday’s lab was full of kids coming in and out, playing with excitement, but this branch had a much more laid back environment. Only four kids that weren’t volunteers ever came in the room, and none of them at the same time. Much of the activities that we had were the same, like having bookmarks and coloring pages, but this branch did not have a guitar nor a piano. Instead, there was an out-of-tune ukulele, some percussion instruments, and an interactive floor piano that kids could play with their feet. I played my cello upon request here, and it was wonderful to see when kids were interested in hearing the instrument. One mother in particular adored the cello, and we had a wonderful conversation about Yo-Yo Ma after I played for her. Apart from playing, I put some stickers that were lying about upon my cello case, and I conversed with the kids and volunteers there. These volunteers were some of the friendliest kids I’d met--much more approachable than the volunteers at the branch I visited yesterday. One of the volunteers even drew and colored a cello for me, and his face lit up when I said I was coming back every Tuesday--that is the sort of interaction that keeps me motivated and reminds me how lucky I am to have this job.

Thursday: Office? I’ve never heard of her.

Much like Tuesday, I spent most of today at another branch. I had a branch training at our largest and oldest library, where I met with the site manager, had a tour, and discussed my project proposals. This is the library that I am most unfamiliar with, so I believe I learned more today about the libraries in my community than I have at the other sites. The manager is the newest leadership member of the library, having held her post for about a year. I knew her before coming to this training, however--she is the mom of one of my high school friends. This was both refreshing and comforting for me, as the environment was already jovial and understanding. There was essentially very little ice to break. We started by discussing the history of the branch, where I learned how much remodeling and complications the library has endured since its creation in the early twentieth century. Then we discussed how much had changed since this manager had come on board, specifically with staff turnover and reforming some outdated processes. The mornings at this branch are dedicated more towards early literacy, for the ‘trouble times’ of 12 to 5 exist in the afternoon where librarians must deal with infractions to the library code of conduct. However, these issues are not such a problem now, since the trouble seems to be more seasonal, occurring in the winter. I learned of the four stages of a team--forming, storming, norming, and performing--and how outreach groups in the city interact with the library. She also shared the importance of having more staff-to-patron interaction than posters, and having libraries be evolving and relevant to the demands of the public. We spoke much of the difficulties the library faces, but also remained hopeful towards what she is working on for the future. Then, we took a tour of the building, where she specifically showed me two areas that she is hoping to revamp in the coming years to be more relevant and helpful to the public. During this walk, we spoke much about the microbusinesses of a library, how space is allocated and utilized, and about the upcoming cycle of a master plan where she will work with other library leadership and a consultant to create a vision and goals for the upcoming years. Microbusinesses in a library include tasks such as inventory, and it was eye-opening for me to understand the depth of the services that the library provides, specifically at this branch. After our tour, we returned to her office and discussed my project proposals. Much like my discussion with the manager of the branch that I met with last week, she was incredibly helpful in her feedback. While last week, the manager kept me realistic and helped me understand my parameters, this manager helped me see what my projects could become if I did in fact hit all the roadblocks that lay ahead, so I could be prepared to reform my ideas if need be. I left my meeting with her feeling hopeful and wise.

I rushed back to my office for a quick lunch before returning to the same branch for my last Music Lab of the week. Again, every Music Lab is different, and this one was no exception. Like my Tuesday lab, very few children came into the room; my guess is about 5 or 6 kids total over the length of the program. I was quite excited to be there, though--it was led by the Early Literacy librarian that I raved about earlier, and apparently one of the volunteers knew me and was excited to have me there. Also, my high school friend that I haven’t seen all summer came to visit! It was a wonderful time, where I played cello for the majority of the time for our small audiences. We had a whiteboard with musical notes and staves for the children to learn, an iPad connected to a projector, several percussion instruments (much more than on Tuesday), an out-of-tune guitar, and again several coloring pages and crafts. I tuned the guitar for the parents of some of the kids and briefly interacted with the volunteers, but most of the time I spent sharing my music with those in attendance. The intermittent applause made me so happy--I know these Music Labs will be a consolation and safe, happy place every week.

Friday: Work, work, work, work.

How anybody can expect a man to work on a day of the world cup quarterfinals is beyond me, but alas, I did. While Uruguay lost to France, and Brazil subsequently fell to Belgium, my little Latino heart was crushed--all I could do was check every time I met one of my short-term goals, and then cry a little bit inside. Of course, this all happened during one of the most focused days I’ve had in awhile. I spent the day in my office, and the majority of which I spent editing my proposal drafts. I cross-analyzed the feedback I received from both branch managers I met with as well as my meeting last week with my mentor, and I worked through the holes, weak points, and challenges of each proposal. I did so through going through my extensive notes, annotating my previous drafts, and then changing my drafts to modify my current visions. The meeting where I will present my finished drafts is next Thursday, so I need to have my drafts as revisited and polished as possible for that date. I’m proud of the work I did. I worked efficiently and heavily in preparation to show these re-drafts to my boss during our check-in meeting this afternoon, but alas, she rescheduled last minute to next Monday. This gave me some time to prepare for my Music Labs next week as well as organize myself for other upcoming programs. I also realized I’ll be working next week right after the world cup final--will I be able to survive? Anyways, during my Music Labs this week I mostly played music from my own repertoire--Bach movements, some romantic pieces, etc. I think children will enjoy my playing more if I am playing pieces more relevant to them, so I tried to find pieces they might recognize, like an arrangement of the Harry Potter or Lord of the Rings theme songs. I soon realized, however, that the age range of music lab kids (under 5 or 6) means that they probably wouldn’t recognize these tunes. So, instead, I looked for some recognizable classical tunes--like the Can Can or the Waltz from Sleeping Beauty--instead, alongside songs everyone knows, like Wheels on the Bus and the ABCs. I found a large cache of music and I feel prepared to practice it and have a more personal concert series next week.

What Did I Learn?

I learned the most about programming and library history this week through my interactions with staff, kids, and parents. It was busy and immersive, and I also learned about my own limits, and what I can handle as far as loading myself with programs.

Links:

My city’s library history: https://history.fcgov.com/visit/library-history

#week 4 #plintern #library #ala #pla #poudrelibraries #summary

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reecedarlene · 6 years

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4/20/2018 - After work, a friend I’m getting closer every day with (by bonding over our toxic relationships with our mothers) came to visit from out of state. We met, went out to dinner, and I stayed out from 5:30 pm to 9:00 pm (sorry to our waitress)

Then after getting home I played on my Playstation 4 until about 11 pm when my ex who recently found some of my childhood books that apparently have been in the trunk of his car for the last year and a half since we broke up. I drove over to his house, not knowing just how large the box was. After retrieving my beloved Animorphs books, we talked. We talked about everything, good and bad, our lives now, our lives before when we were together, and it was midnight. So he asked if I just wanted to go get coffee, he’d drive, he’d pay (I didn’t bring my purse he literally lives 20 feet from my apartment). So we went to get coffee, it was casual, it was safe, but I knew it was inappropriate. I couldn’t help it, I’m so fed up with my current boyfriend and it doesn’t matter how many times I try to leave him he just won’t go... I got home that night at 3 am

4/21/2018 - I had set an alarm the previous night to get up at 9 am because of a “$5 a Bag” booksale at the local library. The alarm went off, and even though I am usually ecstatic on weekends when the boyfriend isn’t there because it means I can do whatever I want without having him checking in on me and being upset I’m not spending time with him. But that 9 am alarm went off and I was Just So Tired.

I woke up feeling exhausted, conflicted, and overwhelmed. Like a 25 year old failure for sitting in this 2-bedroom apartment I can barely afford and do not need, with more debt than I can manage, in a relationship with someone who doesn’t love me or respect me enough to Just Get A Job, and I just didn’t want to get out of bed. But I knew if I didn’t get out of bed, if I just laid there and put on Friends reruns and stayed under my soft blanket - I’d hate myself.

So I got out of bed. I put on a Boy Meets World T-shirt, and brushed my hair, and I went to the book sale. I had other plans that day, too. Meeting with a friend for Bubble Tea, going thrift shopping, it was a day filled with all of my favorite things. But even as I was skimming through book spines I wanted to go home. I was waiting for a text from my - notoriously flaky - friend saying “So sorry, girl, but I’m so busy, I can’t do Bubble Tea today” but it didn’t come. Instead I got text from my boyfriend, complaining that his friends “value the Magic Card Game more than his friendship, that he wants to just come back tonight, that he hates being away from me, that he hates being around his mom, hates his fake friends, hates everything”.

“I’m sorry :( “ I texted back because what can I say? What can I do? I can’t fix what’s wrong, I can’t fix how he feels, I barely got out of bed this morning. So I filled my bag, I paid my $5, the guy who accepting my cash tried to goad me into buying more books but I know in my heart, I shouldn’t have even bought these books seeing as how I have books I bought in 2003 I still haven’t gotten around to reading...

I got in my car, and it was a beautiful spring day. 60 degrees in Michigan, no rain clouds, no threat of snow, the sun was out, there was a breeze, you could keep all the car windows down. A day like this would usually make me so happy. But I checked my phone again, still hoping for a cancellation text. “Hey, girl, what time are we meeting?” “Is 2:00 too late?” “No that’s fine :) “ The clock read 11:45 am.

So I texted another friend, a friend in a volatile relationship, a friend who’s kids I had found books at the sale for anyway, so I texted her “Hey, can I swing by for a few? Just to drop off books and kill some time?” “Absolutely I’ll be home in 10″. So I went, spent 2 hours talking to her, her husband, her kids, and petting her Australian Shepard.

A third friend texted “What are you doing today?” “Meeting for Bubble Tea at 2″ “Can I come?” “Sure! Pick you up at 1:45″ This might seem insane, already I’ve socialized with 6 people in a 24 period of time but this is me, this is my element, and usually I’d be so excited but I still just want to go home, get back under my covers, order in food, and ignore the Friends reruns on Netflix.

I pick up the friend, I drive to the city where the Bubble Tea is sold, and the friend I’d been waiting on all day to cancel plans says “I’m running behind but I’ll be there.” So we sat in my car for an hour, windows, down, talking about all that’s wrong in our lives so that by the time the friend I initially made these plans with shows up, I’m talked out. But I still want Bubble Tea, so we still go in, we order, we talk until 5:00 pm

Flaky friend and I had planned to go thrift shopping, but now she’s saying she’s going to her mom’s after tea to go watch The Greatest Showman. I don’t complain, because I expected something like this, and the other friend is with me anyway so we’ll just go like we always do anyhow. So we say our goodbyes after continuing to talk outside for 30 minutes. Then the friend I picked up and I go out to eat, go to a few stores, and I finally get to go to bed without feeling guilty - 9:00 pm.

But when I walk in the door, I remember...the cat needs wet food today, and the rats’ cage needs cleaning which I tell myself I’ll do tomorrow, I need to go pick up my birth control, I tell myself I’ll do that tomorrow, I need to do laundry - I’m 3 weeks deep and I’m out of underwear and clean pants. I know that if I don’t do my laundry tonight there’s a really solid chance I won’t do it tomorrow...so I start laundry. I tell myself I’m being smart. My apartment building has 3 washing machines and 3 dryers, if I just haul down all of my clothes I can certainly get 3 loads done in 2 hours and it’ll only be 11:00 pm and I can feel good knowing it’s done.

After I put soap and clothes in all three washers I realize...one of the washers is jammed and won’t accept quarters. So my single cycle plan turned into two cycles because the clothes are already soapy and down there. I finish laundry, washed, dried, folded, and put away at 1:00 am

4/22/2018 - Sunday morning, with no alarms, I wake up at 9:30 a.m. I have a "Good morning” text from my boyfriend. I know that if I check Facebook and the “Active” sign lights up and I don’t text him he’ll ask too many questions about why I didn’t text him when I first woke up. “Good morning, how’d you sleep?” “Like shit. You?” “Ok I guess.” “When is your friend coming over?” “IDK she’s spending time with her grandma first.” “Oh, okay. I guess my friends are coming. No one said anything to me. I’m pissed. I don’t want them here.” “I’m sorry. I just texted my friend, guess she’ll be here at 2″ “Cool”

He stopped texting for a while, which I was thankful for. I knew I didn’t have anything I had to do until 2 pm. So I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t even get up to pet the cat, see the rats, check their food or water, I just turned on Friends reruns and let myself fall naturally in and out of consciousness. Around 11 pm another text came through “How are you baby?” “Fine. You?” “Okay, bored.” “I”m sorry”

I knew I had to get up, I told myself I’d clean the rats’ cage today. It wouldn’t be fair to let it go a 3rd week because I’m depressed and don’t want to do it. So I got up, I put the rats in their play pen, I changed their bedding, wiped down their cage, replaced some fleece covering the wire platforms, moved things around, fresh food, fresh water, and put them back in their homes. I cleaned the cat’s litter box, put in new litter, gave her wet food and fresh water. Washed my hands and decided to reward my efforts with Wendy’s.

So I changed my clothes, even put on a bra, but no socks, and drove the 8 minute round trip to Wendy’s for chicken sandwiches and fruit tea. I brought my reward back to bed. I checked my phone, hoping my friend would be too tired to come over after seeing her grandma, too busy, too much to finish on a Sunday. She didn’t. So after I ate I just laid back down in bed and waited until 1:30 pm when I did get a text. “Done early! Can I be there in ten?” “Sure :) “ and I finally got up and went to sit on the couch for the first time all day.

It was good that she came, we talked, caught up on the months it’d been since we’d seen each other. I didn’t know how long she’d stay, when 8 pm rolled around I was surprised. I was trying to hold out until 10 pm so I could suggest going to Applebee’s for half off appetizers since I hadn’t ate since noon. Around 8:30 I get a call from another set of friends asking if I wanted extra company and a surprise. I didn’t really...but my curiosity got the best of me, since the friend refused to tell me who the surprise guests would be.

When they got there, with a Monster Energy I requested, I saw a friend I hadn’t seen in person since 2009. I was so excited to see him, and his husband, and everyone else. My apartment felt full and homey and good. But there was still this part of me that wanted to go to bed. But I pushed through like I’d been doing all weekend, because I was also so very excited to see this person who lives out of state who I very well may never see again. We all talked, caught up, reminisced. The friend who had been there since 2 stayed far later than even she had intended. Suddenly it was midnight and of course everyone was tired and worn out and it was time to go. The first friend stayed a little while longer, I wasn’t trying to push her out the door, but then it was 1:00 am and we both knew we’d regret being up any later.

I didn’t mention to my boyfriend a few things this weekend. I didn’t mention my ex. I know he’d have told me to forget the books, that seeing my ex wasn’t worth it, that I’d be disrespecting him. Maybe he’s right, maybe that’s a fair assessment but I just didn’t care. And I didn’t want to fight about it. I didn’t tell him my friend tagged along for Bubble Tea. It’s harmless, but he always acts - strange - when I don’t tell him every detail of what happens when he’s not around. I didn’t tell him 4 more people showed up at my apartment Sunday night. For the same reason as above but also 2 of the people are in a homosexual relationship, which shouldn’t mean anything, but it does to him. Or he’d say, gay or not, there were 2 “strange” men in my apartment when he wasn’t there. And even more, one of those men is transgender. He’d have so much to say. And that on top of all of his already hateful texts to me about his own true friends. I just didn’t want the fight. And even if it shouldn’t be a fight, it would become one and I was just so tired.

But since I was lying by omission...I had to clean the apartment. Put away extra chairs and games pulled out for the bigger group. Hide all evidence of there being more than one visitor that day. Because I just didn’t want the hassle of him questioning things when he came back the next day.

I finally got to bed at 3 am. The excitement having worn off, and just being so fucking thankful to have a nice cool bed with a nice soft blanket to get into after this weekend. Wishing there was some way to stop 8 am from coming.

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pbandjesse · 3 years

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Am I dealing with my feelings? No. Do I feel alright right now? Yes. Am I feeling guilty about that? Also yes. I swear I am going through the entire 5 stages of grief over and over again. Honestly its exhausting.

I slept okay last night but I cried a lot after I got my post done. I was pretty hysterical at points. I don't even know when I fell asleep but it was well after midnight.

I woke up and felt weird. My eyes weren't as swollen but I was just so tired. I felt cute at least. My hair dried really nice and I love my dress. I put on eyeliner to try to feel more awake. It did not work.

I didn't know what to have for breakfast. We didn't have any soda so I had no caffeine. Which didn't help with my very sleepy feelings. I had the chips and cheese I got from chipotle for a weird brunch.

I worked on catching up with the styling clients I had. I had almost a dozen and I just felt like. Overwhelmed. So I emailed Emily. I told her what was happening and she was very apologetic and said if I wanted to give all my clients away this month I could but I told her to let me have some distraction at least. And I worked on them for a few hours and while it was a struggle to keep my eyes open, I got a lot done and was proud of my speed.

But my eyes were like really struggling. I thought about a nap but then I decided I needed to get out. I had to go buy some stuff to supplement my camp site so I packed up my little bag and got ready to leave.

I had a nice drive. I had to put on music instead of a podcast to wake up. Singing along always helps me. I decided to go to the thrift store.

It was a little warm in there. And weird seeing so many people not wearing masks inside. But they gave me space so that was good.

I had a great haul honestly. I even found a perfect Christmas gift for James's parents and was super excited about that. I got another rug, some fabric, a pretty table cloth we can use as a picnic blanket. Some paper, a kettle, a cup. Three dresses, two pairs of camp shoes (clog crocs and a toms style leather slip on). And a new blanket that will be just for camping. It was an excellent haul and I earned a new coupon. Love when that happens.

I was very overheated in the store though. Just not comfy. I had choked on my gum earlier in the day and my throat was feeling weird from that and I needed something to drink. So I went to Five Guys for lunch.

It was good. But man was it hot out today. I couldn't cool off in the ac because the sun was beating on me so bad. But it would get better.

I went to the other shopping center across the street and went to the dollar store. I got a few things for art camp. Alexi's daughter asked if we could have a mini art class for her on Wednesdays and so I told Heather I could have a mini art camp with 3 campers. And she said it would be EXTREME Art camp, like the extreme tipis program. Right now I have Alexi's older daughter, and Lauren from ropes. It will take place between pick up and dinner on Wednesdays. Love it.

I went to the grocery store after that. Got some more drink mixes to make the water more interesting at camp. And some shelf stable soup and a rice side. I needed to go home though. I walked around the grocery store like 3 times because I couldn't find anything and I was tired and annoyed.

I had a nice drive back though. I had switched to a podcast and when I got home I saw someone was throwing a bike away. I went inside to tell James but it was gone really fast. Felt a little bad that I hadn't try to grab it first. But James isn't like upset. I still felt bad.

I would work on some packing up of things I need to bring. Takig off labels of things I got. Trying on the dresses. The one is from Free People and had very silly ties but its so nice and I like it for the summer. One is a pool coverup and I wish it was a little looser but is still good. And the last one is weirdly low cut but will be a good layering dress and is very soft. So I won.

I realized that the one fabric I got was almost 10 yards of uncut vintage fabric and I love it so much? I want to use it to make a proper quilt. Not one of my weird cut mini pieces ones. Maybe that can be a project I work on soon. Or at least start. Since I have that huge picnic table at camp it would be easier to lay out, that's for sure.

Once everything was put away I was very hot and uncomfortable. I laid down. James came and fixed the fan for me so I would be more cool. And I would fall asleep for a few hours.

I woke up in a panic because my phone was vibrating on me. But it was alright. I was okay. Just slightly distressed.

James ordered us dinner and walked to pick it up. I styled one more person. And was done when they got back. We watched a video together and made plans for tomorrow. Were going to have a date day.Which I both am dreading and looking forward too.

The dread is because I feel so tired. And because of the heat. But also like I logically know that is me being exhausted now. I want to go to the farmers market and the harbor with my James. I love my James! I love spending time with my James. And then I will be away from them for another week and I want to make sure we have that time together before then.

So I have to hope for good sleep. And that the grief I am feeling isn't so strong. I took a bath and it helped with my overheated feelings. I used my new banana lotion. I smell like a fruit salad. And now we are in the air conditioning and I feel a little better. Physically at least.

I got back to camp tomorrow. Send me luck. Because I am going to have 300 kids this week.

Goodnight everybody.

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sjworldtour · 4 years

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20/12/19 Accidental fish in Shibuya

Yesterday wasn't our finest day of the trip. We said goodbye to the lovely Steph and Phil (who drove us to Hirafu in the morning) and caught a bus over to New Chitose Airport. Checked in and had a nice time being given free samples in the food court- cake and cheesecake and steamed donut. We bought something that looked like a croquette and was labelled as cheese but turned out to be a fishcake yuck. Flew to Tokyo Narita and were surprisingly efficient getting out of the airport and on to a bus to the city centre. Had a fair walk from Tokyo station to the Wise Owl Hostel, and struggled a bit under the weight of our bags that we've happily avoided hauling around for two weeks.

The hostel (where we are staying until boxing day) is a good one, with a live owl in reception, a free drink in the bar downstairs every night, and pleasingly private upstairs bunks where we can talk to each other but are screened from everyone else.

By this time it was approaching 5pm and we had only had some toast and some accidental fish, so we head out to the neighbouring area of Ningyocho in search of food. We popped in to Suitengu shrine which was quiet and pleasant, we felt a little awkward not knowing any shrine etiquette but didn't get shouted at or thrown out so I guess it was all ok. We walked around for ages trying to decipher food menus - hardly any had English translations and those that did didn't have any prices. We settled on a café that had a menu handwritten in English but no prices, and tried in vain to match the Hiragana characters with the real menu. Joey ended up with stir fried vegetables and Sam with the smallest chicken wings ever. Not terrible, but not enough food given how hungry we were and way more expensive than we'd have liked. Most of the place was taken up with a very exuberant office party which was entertaining.

We left feeling still hungry and walked home a different way keeping our eyes peeled for takeaway pizza to top us up. No luck until a bar/restaurant just round the corner from the hostel where we smugly shared a tasty pizza. Were feeling well fed and happy until we asked for the bill and there was a hidden service charge that amounted to more than the actual pizza. Have made a mental note to check for charges everywhere we go from now on. Feeling grumpy and at odds with Tokyo, we sidled back to the hostel and hid from the world.

Today, Tokyo has redeemed itself! We've spent the day exploring Shibuya, Harajuku and Shinjuku, filling up on sights, Japanese culture and food.

First thing we took a Ginza line subway to Shibuya - we've bought a 72 hour pass that works on the main subway and metro lines, but not the JR or other privately owned lines. It's all a bit confusing. Luckily they say the station names in English and all the stops are numbered so navigating the lines isn't toooo difficult. The tricky bit is emerging from the right station exit and working out where on earth you want to be on the surface. Every subway station seems to be a maze of underground tunnels.

Luckily this time our platform was right by the Tokyu department store entrance, so we headed to the basement foodcourt in search of breakfast. We were disappointed by the lack of free samples promised to us by the guidebook, but found an enticing bakery and bought a huge warm sweet walnut bread. We found our way the surface and sat on the side of the street looking out over the Shibuya pedestrian scramble, the famous junction crisscrossed by up to several thousand people in each wave. We saw a fleet of Mario style go-karts go by on their Tokyo tour. Nearby we visited the statue of Hachiko, the faithful dog who waited every day for his master at Shibuya station, even nine years after the man's death. We had a little wander up Center-gai shopping street, and then over to the new and shiny Hikarie department store. We browsed the many floors of homewares and handbags up to an exhibition space on the top floor. This housed an unexpected display of puppets, as well as some slightly scary craft pop up stores. Back down in the basement, we were yet again denied any free tasters in the foodcourt.

Time was marching on so we hopped on a subway up to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government building west of Shinjuku. We visited the observation deck on the 45th floor and a volunteer guide showed us the sights. It was a clear sunny day so we had great views of the city, but unfortunately Mt Fuji was hiding in a wreath of cloud. The gift shop had our names in Japanese characters. Back down on the second floor we're pleased to see climbing and surfing are now Olympic sports but sad squash still isn't.

Walked back to Shinjuku. It's weird how much walking is in underground tunnels, we intended to walk at street level but kept somehow finding ourselves underground again. Had lunch at burger bar round the corner from the Robot Café, which has a cool looking evening show but way too expensive for us. We soaked up the bright lights and buzzing atmosphere of Shinjuku, visited a games arcade with a Star Wars game that had enough controls to be a spaceship, and checked 7 storey electronics stores for fitbit and camera accessories (with no luck).

Next we walked down to Meiji temple through a large quiet forested area, quite a contrast from the city beyond. We read some prayers on the prayer wall, watched someone important bang on a big drum, and browsed the amulets available for sale. The matrimonial bliss amulet was expensive so we'll just have to hope we find it anyway. You can buy "divine protection” available at three different levels, reminiscent of budget insurance deals.

Walking out of Meiji towards the south we reached Harajuku, an area known for youth fashion, cosplay, anime, clothing brands of varying expense and second hand shops. By this point it was dark and the avenues of trees at the side of the road were illuminated with zillions of Christmas lights. We visited Condomania (a speciality condom shop, of course), a very extravagant costume shop that was peppered with "no photos” signs, and a thrift shop selling battered old Levis for literally thousands of pounds.

At the train station on the way back to Shinjuku we were offered a free sample of some sort of biscuit/cake that was actually dried fish. We now appreciate the need to always carry some chocolate in case a post-accidental-fish-cleanse is needed. We went to the Hanazono shrine all lit up for the evening, and then wandered round some of the famous nightlife areas...

The Golden Gai is an area of hundred of tiny bars, mostly only big enough for 3 or four guests. Between the high service charges, the lack of English translations, and the intimidating well dressed men (likely Yakuza) hanging about, we kept ourselves outside and just enjoyed the ramshackle streets.

Kabuchiko is a somewhat seedy area, with bars having pictures of girls outside as if on a menu, and plenty of "love hotels” offering rooms to rent by the hour or the night.

Omoide Yokocho (aka piss alley from the days before they installed public toilets) was reminiscent of the Golden Gai with tiny establishments and crisscrossing alleyways, but here every bar was grilling skewers of chicken or fish to serve with their sake. It made for a smoky atmosphere bubbling with chatter and calls inviting tourists in to pay the no doubt huge charges. Another great place to wander round while staying safely outdoors.

We caught the subway back to Shibuya where we started the day, and queued up for seats at a conveyor-belt sushi bar called Uobei. We ordered bits and pieces off our respective ipads and it swooped up in front of us. Very exciting and there were even some veggie plates, although Joey had to scrape some cod roe off an udon dish. Sam was slurping up sashimi like a pro, and we finished the meal with tasty pineapple slices. Went to take a few more photos of the pedestrian scramble, then headed for home and a free sake in the hostel bar.

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newstfionline · 7 years

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Why it’s becoming cool to live in your car—or a 150-sq. ft. apartment

Jessica Mendoza, The Christian Science Monitor, August 21, 2017

SEATTLE; AND LOS ANGELES--When Shawna Nelson leaves her office in Seattle’s suburbs, she does what 28-year-olds often do: dines with friends, goes out dancing, or sees a show. Sometimes she hits her swanky gym.

But at the end of the night Ms. Nelson always returns to Dora, the dusty Ford Explorer she calls home. In the back, where a row of seats should be, lies a foam mattress covered with fuzzy animal-print blankets. Nelson keeps a headlamp handy for when she wants to read before bed. Then, once she’s sure she won’t get ticketed or towed, she turns in for the night.

“I still strive to have some sort of routine,” says Nelson, who started living in her car about a year ago. “Would I rather spend $1,200 on an apartment that I’m probably not going to be at very much, or would I rather spend $1,200 a month on traveling?”

For her, it was an easy choice.

She’s not alone. As housing costs soar, US communities have faced ballooning homelessness, declining homeownership, and tensions over gentrification. But the rising expense of homes, when combined with the demographic, cultural, and technological trends of the past decade, has also prompted a more positive phenomenon: smaller, leaner living. This conscious shift, mainly among portions of the middle and upper classes, springs from a desire to live more fully with less.

For some it means choosing tiny homes and “micro-apartments”--typically less than 350 square feet--for the chance to live affordably in vibrant neighborhoods. For others, like Nelson, it means hitting the road in a truck or van, communing with nature and like-minded people along the way. Proponents range in ages and backgrounds, but they all share a renewed thirst for alternatives to traditional lifestyles like single-family homes, long cherished as a symbol of the American dream.

“I think fundamentally it comes down to a shift in perception about the pursuit of happiness--how it doesn’t require a consumerist lifestyle or collection of stuff,” says Jay Janette, a Seattle architect whose firm has designed a number of micro-housing developments in the city. “They’re not really living in their spaces, they’re living in their city.”

John Infranca, a law professor at Boston’s Suffolk University who specializes in urban law and policy, says the phenomenon is driven largely by Millennials, who have been the faces of both the affordable housing crisis and the shift to minimalism.

Research shows that the 18-to-35 cohort continues to rent at higher rates than previous generations: 74 percent lived in a rental property in 2016, compared to 62 percent of Gen Xers in 2000, according to the Pew Research Center. And while the Millennial desire to not buy homes tends to be overstated--studies suggest many want to own, but often can’t afford to--they do prioritize experiences over stuff.

They aren’t the only ones. Spending on experiences like food, travel, and recreation is up for all consumers, making up more than 20 percent of Americans’ consumption expenses in 2015. (In contrast, the share for spending on household goods and cars was in the single digits.) Baby-boomer parents, downsizing as they enter retirement, find that their grown children are uninterested in inheriting their hoards of Hummels and Thomas Kinkade paintings. The same “live with less” logic has begun to extend beyond stuff to the spaces these older adults occupy.

“There is some cultural demand for simpler living,” says Professor Infranca. “And by virtue of technology, we are able to live with a lot less.”

It’s a distinct moment for a culture that has long placed a premium on individual ownership and a ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ mentality, Mr. Janette and others say.

“I think the recession changed the playing field for a lot of people,” notes Sofia Borges, an architect, trend consultant, and lecturer at the University of Southern California. “Job security, homeownership--a lot of that went out the window and never really returned. When a change like that happens, you have to change your ideas a little bit too.”

That was certainly the case for Kim Henderson, who was a marketing manager making more than $80,000 a year before the recession. “I never again found a job like I had [before 2008],” says Ms. Henderson, now in her 50s. “When they were available, they went to younger people.”

Today Henderson makes about $37,000 a year as an executive assistant to a bar owner and lives in the Bristol Hotel, a mixed-use apartment building in the heart of downtown Los Angeles. Her studio, which she shares with her small dog Olive, is 175 square feet--the equivalent of about four king-size beds. The walls are covered in framed artwork that Henderson collected from thrift shops and friends. An apartment-sized fridge and a fold-out couch are her largest possessions.

“It’s the same exact lifestyle [I used to live], just with less things”--and more money in her pocket, she says.

Henderson pays $685 a month including electricity--a bargain for Los Angeles, where studios average $1,500. She can save money and still have enough disposable income to eat out and travel, she says. But at least as important is the sense of liberation. “There’s an energy you get from purging,” Henderson says. “You don’t need six towels. You don’t need a ton of dishes. You pick the things out that you really want to keep in the ‘useful’ category.”

The sentiment is in keeping with a growing culture of minimalism. Marie Kondo’s “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up,” which urges people to keep only those things that “spark joy,” has sold 1.5 million copies in the US alone. Joshua Fields Millburn and Ryan Nicodemus, also known as The Minimalists, have also helped take the notion mainstream with a podcast, website, bestselling books, and documentaries.

There are other forces at play, too. Digital access to resources makes living lean more feasible, says Infranca at Suffolk. Henderson, for instance, doesn’t own a car, relying instead on ride-sharing services or her own two feet to get around. And because she lives downtown she’s closer to the amenities and establishments she loves.

“It’s a value proposition,” says David Neiman, whose Seattle design firm focuses on small-efficiency dwelling units, which start at 150 square feet. “I could live for the same price in a central location in housing that’s clean, has internet, and I can walk to work and exciting things. Or I can live farther away, have more space, and it’s in a secondary neighborhood and I have to drive.”

Instead of renting a micro-unit in an urban center, filmmakers Alexis Stephens and Christian Parsons decided two years ago to build their own 130-square foot house and load it onto the bed of a U-Haul. They then set off across the country in a bid to live more simply and sustainably, travel, and invest in their own place--all while documenting the experience.

The Tiny House Expedition has since become a thriving enterprise. Ms. Stephens and Mr. Parsons have interviewed tiny house advocates and dwellers across 30,000 miles and 29 states. At a sustainability festival outside Seattle in July, they sold T-shirts and copies of the book “Turning Tiny,” a collection of essays they contributed to. They gave tours of their home. And they answered questions about building and living in a tiny house, touting its potential as an affordable, sustainable, and high-quality alternative lifestyle.

“People are empowering themselves to build housing options that work for them that are not available in the market,” Stephens says.

Tiny homes can range from about 100 to 300 square feet and cost between $25,000 to $100,000, give or take. Stephens and Parsons built theirs using reclaimed material for about $20,000, and it comes with a loft for a queen-sized bed, a compost toilet, walls that double as storage, and shelves that turn into tables. For those with more lavish tastes, vendors like Seattle Tiny Homes offer customizable houses--complete with a shower and a washer and dryer--for about $85,000.

“You aren’t downgrading from a traditional home,” says founder Sharon Read. “It can have everything you want and nothing you don’t want.”

Those who would rather not lug around a whole house while they travel, however, have turned to another alternative: #vanlife. The term was coined in 2011 by Foster Huntington, a former Ralph Lauren designer who gave up his life in New York City to surf the California coast, living and traveling in a 1987 Volkswagen Syncro. His photos, which he posted on Instagram and later compiled in a $65 book titled, “Home Is Where You Park It,” launched what The New Yorker dubbed a “Bohemian social-media movement.”

The hashtag has since been used more than a million times on Instagram. “Vanlifers” drive everything from cargo vans to SUVs, though the Volkswagen Vanagon remains the classic choice.

“It’s definitely found a renewed zeitgeist,” says Jad Josey, general manager at GoWesty, a Southern California-based vendor of Volkswagen van parts. “The fact that you can be really compact and mobile and almost 100 percent self-sufficient in a Vanagon is really attractive to people.”

People like freelance photographer Aidan Klimenko, who has been living off and on in vans and SUVs for three years, traversing the US and South America.

“The idea of working so hard to pay rent--which ultimately, that’s just money down the drain--is such a hard concept for me,” says Mr. Klimenko. Vanlife, he adds, “is access to the outdoors and it’s movement. I’m addicted to traveling. I’m addicted to being in new places and meeting new people and waking up outside.”

Still, the movement to live smaller may not be as extensive as social media makes it seem, some housing analysts say. Zoning regulations--especially in dense urban areas--often restrict the number and size of buildable units, slowing growth among micro-apartments and tiny homes. Constructing or living in a tiny home or micro-unit can still pose a legal risk in some cities.

And by and large, Americans continue to value size. The average new home built in the US in 2015 was a record 2,687 square feet--1,000 square feet larger than in 1973, according to the American Enterprise Institute in Washington.

Living mobile isn’t all grand adventures and scenic views, either. Van dwellers say they’ve had to contend with engine trouble, the cold and the heat, and unpleasant public restrooms. And Henderson in Los Angeles says she once lived in an affordable micro-housing development that had a pervasive drug-dealing problem.

Still, those who have embraced leaner living say what they might lose in creature comforts, they gain in perspective and experience. In crisscrossing the country, Stephens and Parsons opened themselves up to the kindness of strangers. “It’s a nice reminder that as Americans we have so much more in common than we realize,” Stephens says. They also spend more time connecting with others, instead of closeting themselves at home.

“Whether you’re choosing a van, a school bus, a tiny house, or a micro-apartment, you get a lot of the same benefits,” she says. “We need more housing options, period, in America. We’ve boxed ourselves in a very monolithic housing culture. We’re showing it’s OK to venture outside of that.”

#minimalists #smaller homes #tiny homes #leaner living #micro apartments #living mobile

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