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annakie · 3 years

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Patchy

A little under two years ago I made this post, a chronicle of Patchy, the outside feral, turned inside kitty who took ten years to learn to love being petted.

Today we got some bad news.

TW for pet illness under the cut.

Patchy’s always been a bit of a puker, usually oh, say, once a month or so she’d have a good puke for no reason. I’ve had other cats that are pukers so it’s not that surprising.

In the late winter/early spring I started to notice more frequent pukes.

I’d decided around that time that I needed to find healthier food for my cats, with Leela, the oldest turning 16, Fry turning 11, Pemily turning 7 and Patchy turning, I don’t know, 12 or 13. No way to really know. They already got decent food, but I did my research and had started looking at Blue Buffalo, American Journey and Dave’s canned food.

Patchy had been on a mostly canned food diet since she went to the vet back in early 2020 and had a bunch of teeth pulled. Also, as a note, Patchy’s brief flirtation with hanging out in the rest of the house ended after like a month. She and Fry fought too much, and eventually he claimed the rest of the house is his. He also still thinks the master bedroom should be his, but, Patchy defends that territory well if anyone else encroaches. (The door just stays closed most of the time.) I really wish they could have all gotten along, I loved having Patchy out, but both Fry and Patchy agreed it wasn’t going to work.

The food she’d been on was pretty junk-food-ish though, which she did love and eat. But I wanted everyone on more or less the same diet and the highest quality food I could readily get them. So I bought a lot of cans of different kinds of food, and kept a list of which ones seemed to be hits and misses. (I still have a dozen cans of the kind nobody liked -- Blue Buffalo Wilderness Salmon -- I’ve been meaning to take to the city shelter).

Around halfway into this experiment I noticed Patchy puking more, so I decided to try to stick with her favorite kinds, which, I thought was helping.

But once I was fully vaccinated this year, it was time to get all the pets to the vet. I noticed Patchy had still lost some weight, I thought it was due to switching around her food too much earlier, and tried to stick with the things I felt she really liked.

Then, of course, Leela got sick, spent two and a half days in the pet ER and almost died back in April, and then it was like... yeah we’re done being afraid of COVID, we’re done waiting. It’s time to get them all their checkups.

My regular vet was doing COVID restrictions so no pet owners inside the clinic back then, so they took Patchy (and the others) in without me. I thought Patchy had lost some weight, but Dr. B. sounded alarmed when he called me with how much lost she’d lost in the last year, about five pounds. He wanted to do some bloodwork for Patchy, and I said of course go for it.

He called back, sounding much calmer and was like “her bloodwork couldn’t be more perfect. Let’s try switching up her food, get her on some sensitive stomach food and let’s see how she’s doing in a couple weeks.”

So two weeks later it did seem like she was doing better, I called Dr. B back and he said to bring her back in a month.

It was my plan to take her back next week when I had some PTO coming. I admit, later than planned... my last couple of months have been mucn more focused on Leela... who, thankfully, continues to thrive. But feeling like my time with her is running out, she’s been my main area of concern.

The last few days though, Patchy has really not been eating well. Sometimes she does OK, sometimes nothing at all. And then puking every day. I swapped her back even to a few cans of the Junk Food (Whiskas) I still had laying around. She’d eat it... and then puke it up. And also she... stopped sleeping with me. I thought... well, it’s summer. It’s probably too hot to cuddle. But she stopped laying on the bed. She stopped coming up for pets when I come to bed and hang out for awhile specifically to spend time with her and pet her. She runs under the bed again when I come into the room. It’s like we regressed to three or four years ago... just two weeks after our two year anniversary of getting to pet her.

So this afternoon we went to the vet. Getting her into the carrier sucked. I tried nice methods, then I had to scare her into the closet by running the vacuum, and then pretty roughly grab her. I have scratches and a pretty deep bite on my thumb which either maybe hit a nerve or is infected, may have to go to the doctor for it tomorrow. (Yes, washed it thoroughly with soap as soon as I could.) I also hated betraying her trust that badly, but it’s for her own good. But it was rough.

Dr B. wasn’t working so I saw one of the other vets. I liked him. Also COVID restrictions are gone so I got to go inside. But after talking to him for a few minutes, going over her history and what changes I’ve made, he spent a long time rubbing her intestines (Patchy was perfectly behaved, at least.) Then he looked concerned. Then he said let’s do an ultrasound.

A few minutes he came back in and showed me her scans.

Lymphoma.

I was a bit stunned for a second so I missed a bit of the technical speak he said next, but it came down to the best thing we could do is give her some medicine that may buy her more time. It doesn’t sound like Chemo or Operating is even really an option. I’m going to call back tomorrow and see if Dr. B or the vet I talked to can talk me through it a little better now that I’ve had a chance to digest.

If I can get Patchy to take the medicine, and if she responds well to it... she may have 3 - 6 months left.

If she won’t take it, or if she doesn’t respond, it’s at this point, a matter of her comfort and quality of life. So... weeks. And I’m worried about getting her to take the medicine, especially since she won’t even come let me pet her and we just had a huge trust betrayal today. I don’t know if I could take her spending her last few weeks hating me, especially if the medicine doesn’t work.

The vet also told me that... I didn’t do anything wrong. And we did the right thing six or so weeks ago by changing her food and seeing if a few other things worked. Especially with how good her blookwork looked. He barely felt the cancer today, he said six weeks ago Dr. B wouldn’t have been able to feel it at all. And for this particular type of lymphoma... there’s not a lot to be done, anyway. That made me feel better, at least.

(As a really dumb side note, after I got her home, I sat down to eat dinner and watch an episode of Star Trek to take my mind off of all of this since I’d been crying since I found out, paid my bill, and drove home, stopping at a drive through so I didn’t have the mental load of cooking. And I’m in the middle of my rewatch of Enterprise. I bet any trekkies reading this can guess what episode was next in my rewatch because yep I’m in season two and A NIGHT IN SICKBAY started playing, of course, so obviously I NOPED THE FUCK OUT OF THAT EPISODE. For the non-Trekkies.... the Captain has a dog on board, an adorable beagle, Porthos. The dog gets sick and almost dies and spends his night in Sickbay. He does pull through. But the ONE episode centered around a beloved pet getting sick and almost dying... and that’s the episode that fate decreed I was supposed to watch tonight. I did not. I don’t know if I can watch it anytime soon.)

So now for the next few weeks I will spend my time being grateful that Leela is alive and thriving and pray she keeps doing so -- I will continue to give her extra love and care and attention, and also I will need to do the same for Patchy. I can’t even do it at the same time because Patchy will not come out here, and will not allow Leela in her room.

I am low-key freaking out that there’s the possibility of the nightmare scenario happening to me again. In winter 2016, after months of being sick, I woke up on Christmas morning and my 16-year-old cat Jim had died overnight. It was terrible, and traumatic, and I had to deal with everything all alone because anyone who could support me was... well, it was Christmas morning and my family was all out of town, too. Posting about it on Tumblr... actually really helped me, since it’s the only place I felt like I could talk about it.

That Christmas was on a Sunday.

Wednesday morning I woke up to hearing my dog, Cebu, moaning in pain. I rushed him to the vet, but whatever happened overnight, it was too late, maybe there wasn’t anything we ever could have done even if I’d been awake when the puking started. The vet said the kindest thing we could do was put him to sleep. And we did.

Also I just, JUST now realized that the vet who helped put Cebu to sleep was the same vet who I saw today about Patchy.

But I lost two of my pets within 3 days of each other. I was very lucky that my job let us have the week between Christmas and New Years off that year. I had a few days to pull myself together, and I needed it. It took months to recover totally, though. Every once in awhile I think about that week and I still cry, though. I miss them both so much and they both had deaths that were less than ideal.

I remember thinking then “I have like, five years of reprive. Leela will be sixteen in five years, and that’s when I have to start to worry again, when I have to be ready to say goodbye again.”

I thought then that even after that I’d have two or three years until Patchy would leave me, and two or three years past that until Fry. And then five more years with Pemily.

Right now I’m realizing that I will likely lose Patchy, very best case in six months, but possibly before July is over.

I need Leela to keep thriving. I don’t know how I would handle losing another two so close together again.

Patchy is... she’s the one who chose me. I chose my other cats. Fry and Pemily I plucked from the backyard when they were tiny kittens and brought them inside. They didn’t have a choice. Leela I adopted from a rescue, she didn’t have a choice. Patchy chose to stay. She chose to stick around when she realized I’d feed her. It took years but she learned to trust, she chose to come inside when it was cold, when it was hot, when it was storming, and when she was pregnant. She chose me to help raise the last litter of kittens she’d ever had. (My entire Rescue Kitties tag is full of adventures in finding, raising and usually adopting out strays. Lots and lots of posts about Patchy and her final litter. Been awhile since I’ve done it, though.)

I used to joke that Patchy was my roommate, not a pet. She ate, drank, did her business, and kept to herself for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, she was a very good, quiet, considerate roommate and I loved her. But it wasn’t until that wonderful day she let me pet her that I felt like she was my pet.

I loved having her just hanging out living in the house since 2014, but the last two years especially have brought me such joy. I’ve tried to never take Patchy’s trust in me for granted. It was EARNED. Every small step forward was a milestone to be celebrated. I worked for every bit of trust and love Patchy has given me, and have been rewarded. And it was worth it. Every minute. Every long, patient year.

Even now I’m telling myself... without me, she would have died years ago. Probably violently, or starved, maybe frozen to death. Getting to die of cancer brought on by older age is not something that most feral cats ever get to do. Getting to become an inside kitty where she’s loved, and comfortable for the second half of her life was something remarkable, brought on by her wiles and will to survive for so many years, bolstered by the food I left out for her. She’s had this much time, this much life, this much comfort and love that she would have never had otherwise, and that’s something to be happy about.

I’ve watched dozens of ferals come and go through my neighborhood throughout the years. I feed them, I work on seeing if I can get them to trust me enough to let me TNR them, but even those that I have, I don’t keep seeing for much longer. There’s one right now, I jokingly call him Patchy’s Boyfriend. He still won’t trust me and never has fallen for the trap when I’ve tried. But he’s there most nights when I feed him around 11. He’s getting terribly thin despite the quality food I leave out. I’ll miss him.

But none of them were Patchy. None of them became what she is to me. None of them survived long enough to adapt and decide to live another life.

Also? I wouldn’t have Pemily without her. Pemily is literally Patchy’s Granddaughter and that is one more thing I love Patchy for.

I feel guilty sometimes, both because I don’t spend nearly enough waking hours with her I feel, but I have three others who need me, as well. One who’s time is growing short, as well. And they don’t get to sleep with me, she does. What a joy it was all winter when I would wake up and she’d be sleeping on my chest. I’d get a bit annoyed when she’d sleep with her backside to my face and her tail would tickle my face and wake me up. I’m a side-sleeper half the night and she hated that it was harder to get comfortable on me that way. She still doesn’t want to have my hand just stay on her, she wants pets and skirtches, no long-form touching. That’s ok. I sleep better with her weight on me.

I don’t know what the next few weeks or months will hold, but at least pet-wise, it’s going to be rough. I’m going to wrap this up and give these three out here a good pet, then go hope Patchy comes and asks for love, too. Tomorrow is one more day with all four of them, and for that, I’ll be grateful, for every remaining day.

#personal post tag thingy #my pets #pet illness tw #pet death tw

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loversandantiheroes · 7 years

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Like Blood Running Warm - Part 1

Author’s Note: Happy Spooktober. A couple weeks ago I mentioned how this song made me want to write a Vamp!Clara AU. This is the result of that. Part 1 of probably 2 or 3 if they remain this sort of length. Big thanks to @longjackets, @nikkidee, @kingandcrook, and @infiniteregress17 for the beta help.

Summary: A snowstorm strands a group of bus passengers at a near-derelict station overnight near the Colorado border. One of them just can't seem to get warm.

Rating: T (currently, AO3 link is pre-tagged for the later stuff)

Warnings: Angst by the bucket, Terminal Illness, Simm!Master being...Simm!Master and thus a walking dumpster fire, Implied Past Drug Use, Implied Harassment.

Word Count: 5799

AO3 Link: here

Did you call for the night porter? You smell the blood running warm I stay close to this frozen border, so close I can hit it with a stone Now something crawls right up my spine That I always got to follow Turn out the lights Don't see me drawn and hollow Just blood running warm

- Mark Lanegan, "When Your Number Isn't Up"

- 11:07pm

John Smith, the night porter, sat in the break room of the bus terminal. He should, by all rights, be keeping post behind the counter in the booth, even at this late of an hour, and he knew that. Pointless, though, wasn’t it? An old portable telly spouted crackling spurts of weather reports at him. Worst snow in a decade, record lows, blah blah. He could’ve guessed that himself looking at the drifts forming outside the sliding doors, which he would have to keep shovelled out unless he wanted to end up buried in here. Buried alive with shitty instant coffee, a vending machine that half-worked, and a telly he couldn’t even get a decent signal on. His employers, stingy bastards that they were, were too cheap to provide anything new or at least decent on the premises. In the lounge, where most stations would have the new plasma or LED or god-knows-what-the-fuck-ever craning down from the ceiling or mounted on the walls, there were instead tiny coin-op televisions. Bloody ancient things with built-in radio dials bolted to the arms of the benches and chairs, popping and crackling to life at the generous price of 30 minutes for a quarter.

John had no bloody idea why the hell the relics were still installed. Honestly, he didn’t know such things even existed until he took this post, but the real shocker was that somehow they still worked. By all rights, they shouldn’t be able to pick up a signal anymore, save for the radio dial, not after the big push from analog to digital broadcasting. Converter box wired up to some kind of main switch maybe, that was the best he could figure. Mystery of the fucking universe, or might as well be; tech was not his area. But it made him feel something. Kinship maybe, he thought, cradling the battered porcelain mug of coffee and trying to work some warmth into the joints of his fingers. Old and busted, but still working. Last legs, maybe, but some life still crackling inside.

He’d moved to the States for the sake of his health, that was the joke of it. Christ on a bike, that was the fucking joke. The belching exhaust of a passing lorry in Glasgow last spring had left him doubled over and hacking against a lamp post. Not that a cough was that unusual, he’d been a smoker from the age of fourteen. He was used to the hack-and-rattle first thing in the morning, or when the seasons changed from Damp and Warm to Damp and Cold (Scotland only had the two seasons, really). But this time had been different. Not quite worse, but deeper, like the first signal of the flu.

He’d gone home to his flat that day, made tea, and emptied his tobacco tin into the garbage. Good fucking riddance. Something welled up in him then. A change of scenery would be good. He was nearly fifty-six years old, and he’d never even left the country. Wanderlust, he’d called it at the time. Not entirely untrue, but a little too grand. All he’d wanted in that second was to run away. It wasn’t as if he had any real ties to Glasgow anymore. No friends to speak of, all those were gone. Family either dead or distant. He spun his wedding ring unconsciously. No children. That was almost a relief, considering.

Once he decided to go, he’d sold everything but his clothes and his guitar. Sentiment was only the half of that. He’d never admit it, but he’d simply found the idea of travelling halfway across the world with nothing but the guitar too foolishly romantic to give up. Then on the emptied floor of his flat he’d laid out a massive map of the continental US, closed his eyes, and flipped a coin at it.

He’d spent six good months in Colorado, taking odd jobs and occasionally even sitting in on open mic nights at a local bar, plucking out something of The Velvet Underground or Bowie, and chalking up the slow but steady weight loss as stress and an aversion to American food. Then the cough had come back.

Small cell lung cancer. The fast moving shit. The sort that dug its nails in and decided it lived in you now. Gentrification of the lungs. Radiation or chemo might have bought him some time, but that was the best it could offer. But the pricetag on a few more months was entirely too steep. One look in the clinic window at the thinning husks hooked up to IV drips with pallid eyes and piebald pates, and he’d been out like a shot. On his way to work that night he’d bought a pack of cigarettes. If he was gonna die, he’d at least do it with a full head of hair.

John leaned over the break room table, rubbing at his temples. Too busy feeling sorry for himself to think fucking properly, he inhaled just a bit too sharply. The heating in the bus station was rubbish, the glass windows and sliding doors too thin to keep the cold out, and the electric heater he’d dragged in himself, in a feeble attempt to keep his toes from freezing during the long winter, barely managed to take the chill out of the break room.

Cold air needled into his lungs, and he choked, sputtering and coughing so hard it made his bones ache. Hot coffee sloshed over his hands, and he swore, or at least tried. He needed air to curse, and his lungs weren’t having any of that nonsense. He pounded on the table, sloshing more coffee and overturning a plastic tumbler full of spoons. As the fit subsided, John fumbled in his pockets for his handkerchief and spat, folding it away and trying to pretend he hadn’t seen it come away from this lips bloody.

John sat with his head between his knees until he could breathe evenly again, the sound of the telly all but drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. At last, he stood, sopped up the mess of coffee, and stumbled out to check the departures and arrivals. Departures from Shotton had been cancelled even before John had limped to work in his jeep. The last two drivers had waved him off as he pulled in, climbing into their own cars to get the hell out of Dodge and back home before the snow settled in with any real intent. Now the roads were closing, and that meant he might be stuck here alone, hacking his lungs up over bad coffee and worse telly until the snow plows went out.

“Fuck,” he muttered. The arrivals list, which had been a string of delays when he’d come in, was now almost completely cancelled. All but one. 11:20 from Cheyenne. Delayed, but still inbound. Wonderful. Snowed in overnight with a busload of pissy tourists on their way to Denver. Wouldn’t that just be a time. “Of-fucking-course. You couldn’t even give me one miserable night off, could you?” he growled at the ceiling.

He kept swearing as he pulled his winter gear on. He’d read once that swearing helped with pain relief; maybe the blue streak would keep him warm. He struggled this balaclava over his head, wondering if it wasn’t time for a haircut. He was a little too proud to still have a full head of hair, grey or no, and had let it go a little wild after the move. Insulation, he told himself. Too fucking cold to trim the hair back, be liable to freeze to death before the cancer gets a chance to finish the fucking job.

Laughing, John wound his scarf around his head.

- 11:34pm

John had most of the entry cleared and shook down with rock salt and sand, when he saw headlights. The bus lurched up through the drive, crunching and shuddering its way up through the snow to the sheltered entrance.

John leaned on his shovel and flapped a thickly-gloved hand as the bus ground to a stop in front of him. The door hissed open, blowing a gorgeously welcome gust of heated air at him. The driver was a new guy, a round-faced man with close cropped hair and a frankly terrible goatee. “Fuck me ragged,” the driver called down, grinning, “I’m gonna get held up by the Michelin Man.”

John made a gun out of his right hand and popped his thumb. Ka-chow. “You’ll want to get inside,” he shouted through too many layers of damp wool.

The driver frowned, motioning at his ear. “Can’t hear you, pal.”

He waved again, palm in, fingers curling. Come the fuck in.

- 11:40pm

There weren’t many passengers, thank God. John counted heads as they shambled in, jamming his gloves into his pockets and fiddling with his scarf which had gone stiff with frost. Seventeen or eighteen, including the driver, who’d pulled off to try and park the bus proper while he still stood a chance to get it moving. An old couple cooed and laughed over the coin-op televisions. A young black woman in a pea-colored coat almost as heavily padded as his own gave him a nervous smile as he struggled out of his balaclava. She asked hopefully about coffee with a London accent that made him do a double take.

“Or tea or hot chocolate?” she went on in the sort of bright tone only the incredibly anxious and incredibly exhausted can achieve. “Anything hot, honestly, I’m not fussy.”

John grunted, both in effort and assent. He’d worked up a fair sweat out there, and the wool was stuck fastidiously to his head. He bent, trying to pull it up from the back, and heard a second voice with an unmistakable Blackpool twinge.

“Easy, mate, you’ll pull your whole head off by mistake.”

Cold fingers brushed at the nape of his neck, curling into the wool, helping him pull. And then he was free, spitting lint and rifling a hand through the haphazard sprawl of his hair.

London giggled behind her hand. Beside her now was a second, significantly smaller woman who was holding his snow-crusted balaclava out to him. For a second, all he saw were her eyes, wide and brown and faintly crinkled at the corners as she smiled up at him. She was lovely, far too lovely, and he was far too old, and oh Jesus Christ he was staring.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, trying to flatten the beast his hair had become. “Uhm, the coffee machine’s on the fritz,” he said, gesturing at the line of vending machines and utterly missing the excited upshoot both women’s eyebrows did when they heard his accent. With a touch of annoyance, he noticed the out of order sign had dropped once again and was slowly soaking into a puddle of slush. “I’ve got a kettle in the break room, but the coffee’s instant. But there’s quite a lot of it, at least, so.” He shrugged, grinning awkwardly and trying not to look at the short one with the big eyes.

“That’d be amazing, I’m frozen,” London said, bouncing on her toes.

“Right, well, have a seat, I’ll go and get that on.”

“I’ll give you a hand,” Blackpool said.

London scoffed, rolling her eyes. “No accounting for taste,” she muttered.

Blackpool stuck out her tongue.

John glanced at her sidelong as he opened the door to the break room. She noted his hesitation and gave him a quizzical look. “You on your own tonight?”

John frowned. “Yeah, why?”

“Then I will definitely give you a hand. You look fit to keel over.”

The frown deepened into a scowl.

She laughed. “Oh, go on, your eyebrows look like they could shoot laser beams when you scrunch up like that.”

He pushed through the door after her, shrugging his parka off and pretending that he wasn’t trying to hide a smile, unsure why he should be hiding it other than that recurring little prickle that said she’s too pretty and you’re too old and have you forgotten you’re dying?

“I like the accent. Where in Scotland?” she asked, already filling the kettle as he stripped off his overalls.

“Glasgow.” He spared her a glance over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re from Blackpool?”

“Ooh, jackpot, well done.”

“Not the sort of accent I expected to hear coming in with the snow in the arse-end of America. I had friends there. The other girl, London, is she with you?”

“No, not really. Met her at the station, actually, we’ve just been headed the same way. Fell in together a bit. It was just nice, y’know. Familiar sort of accent. America’s so bloody big, makes you feel a little less alone.” Her gaze shifted outward and for a moment she was gone, the over the hills and far away sort of gone, hands still trying to seat the kettle without the help of her eyes. On the third try, she finally managed to set the it down on the base properly and click it on.

“Oh. I know that look,” he muttered, sitting down to try and struggle his overalls past his boots. “Someone’s homesick.”

“Something like that.”

He opened his mouth, but the well-meaning platitude he’d meant to give was lost in a deep, lung-rattling cough. He bent double, hugging his knees, eyes squeezed shut, and told himself over and over again it will pass, it will pass, it will pass. Spots burst and swam behind his eyelids as his body protested the idea. The muscles in his body froze up, lungs refusing any command except get out get out get out. All at once the darkness seemed to deepen, wrapping around him, swallowing him up. There was a bizarre sensation of detachment. Like he was falling into himself, as if his body was some hollow thing he was floating around inside like a sensory deprivation tank.

An arm curled around his shoulders, holding his body up, a cold hand rubbing circles on his back. Blackpool’s voice came floating through the black from miles off like sweet woodsmoke.

“Hey, c’mon breathe, breathe, you’re alright.”

At last, his muscles unlocked, and he sucked in a great whooping gulp of air and coughed again, half-retching as Blackpool shoved a crumpled wad of tissues into his hands. John sat shaking as his breathing leveled, swimming back up into the peaked fluorescent light. The coughing was old, but the blackout, that was new. New and decidedly not good. Blackpool’s hand still rubbed at his back. She was still there. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and as he blinked the tears out of his eyes he saw a smear of red across his knuckles. Fuck.

Blackpool looked down at the blood on his hand, eyes wide with concern and something else he couldn’t quite place. Something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Her pupils were dangerously wide, irises a thin sliver of copper that seemed to pulse and flash. A fresh shudder rippled up his spine. Lack of oxygen, he told himself. Surely.

“You need a doctor,” she whispered, searching her coat pockets and finally producing a phone in a chipped blue case.

He grasped her hand, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“The hell you don’t,” she hissed. “You’re ill.”

“I know,” he said, and that stopped her. He sighed. “Just, please, trust me. An ambulance couldn’t make it through this mess anyway. No point. I’ll be fine in a minute, I just need to catch my breath.”

She stared him down, mouth set and grim. For a long, horrible moment he felt close to talking. To actually saying it. He hadn’t actually told anyone about the diagnosis. There was nobody to tell, and somehow that was the worst of it. He was going to die here alone in a shithole of a town thousands of miles from home, and nobody would know. Loneliness hit him in a crushing wave. He saw himself reflected in the dark of her eyes, drawn and pale and hopelessly lost.

And then she sighed, and his shoulders dropped, and the moment passed.

“What’s your name, Glasgow?” she asked finally.

“John. But mostly people call me the Doctor.” She gave him a funny look and he shrugged. “Old nickname. Long story.”

“No doctor for the Doctor, though?”

He shook his head, resolute.

“Well, then fuck that,” she said flatly. “Glasgow it is.”

He rasped a laugh that set him dangerously close to coughing again. “Suppose I’m supposed to just call you Blackpool, then?”

“It’s only fair.” She smiled tentatively. “But it’s Clara, for the record.”

- 12:03am

Blackpool - Clara - handed out hot water in little styrofoam cups. John followed behind with sachets of coffee and tea bags and tiny packets of sugar. London, who Blackpool said was named Bill, squealed happily when he produced a pyramid-shaped teabag out of his pocket.

“Oh that is gorgeous, you’re a lifesaver, mate.”

Blackpool had moved onto the driver, whose name tag was emblazoned with “MASTERS” in off-kilter lettering. His cheshire grin slipped sideways into a leer as she handed him the cup, his fingers lingering on hers a little too long.

“Cheers, love,” he said with an overblown wink and an equally overblown mockery of an English accent.

Blackpool’s face went stony, and she jerked back, moving on quickly to the elderly couple. The grin on Masters’ face spread even broader.

Bill fidgeted, her own smile fading fast. Her eyes flitted around like nervous hummingbirds, lighting on Blackpool, him, the ceiling, the floor. Anywhere but the driver. John clenched his jaw, hands making a decision for him before his brain stood a chance to intervene, accidentally fumbling the handful of coffee and sugar and knocking the cup of still-steaming water out of Masters’ hands and into his lap. The room was entirely too cold (and his kettle frankly a bit too crap) for the piddly amount of liquid to be hot enough to actually hurt him, but the man yowled like it was boiling.

“Ach, so sorry mate,” John crowed, playing up the Glasgow in his voice to the most ridiculous degree he could that still stopped short of Rab C. Nesbitt territory. “The cauld goes fae my joints, sorry, like, I’ll get ye some towels an’ a fresh cuppa, dinnae worry about it.”

He trotted back to the office, more than a little delighted at the sour look on the driver’s face. How’d that saying go? Like a rottweiler licking piss off a dandelion. That was the one. Beautiful.

- 12:15am

John ran out an extension cable and a power strip for the ones needing a charge for their phones, which unsurprisingly was all of them. Reception was shit, and the storm was only half of it. No wifi, either. He made apologies, gesturing at the desperately out of date equipment. “Give them another ten years, and they might actually catch onto the indoor plumbing fad.”

Blackpool gave him a wink and a thumbs up over the top of her phone. London rolled her eyes and lamented the absence of Netflix, rather loudly at that. Blackpool shook her head and set to poking half-heartedly at Candy Crush.

London wandered over, leaning back against the desk where John sat. She had apparently memorized the names of the other passengers and ticked them off to John as she sipped at her tea. She pointed out the elderly couple. “Melvin and Tilly. Their granddaughter just had her first baby, they’re going down to visit. Spiky hair over there is named Dan or Dave or maybe Doug, he talks a bit too fast for me to really catch it. The cougar with the long blonde hair is Susan; loves badminton, very straight though, shame. Oh, that over there, that’s Dee. Or D, like the letter, not sure which.”

“And of course, you’ve met Clara,” she gestured at Blackpool, who was still flicking through her phone. “Late twenties, maybe early thirties at a push. Used to be an English teacher back home, I think she said. Didn’t like talking about home though. Breakup or something, I dunno. There’s a sore spot there, I didn’t want to poke. I did learn, however, that she likes Jane Austen, souffles, and apparently, older men.” London tilted her head at him pointedly, amused by the way John’s gaunt cheeks colored as he stared fastidiously at his shoelaces. She tutted. “Oh you poor bugger. Five minutes in and you’ve already got it bad. Don’t worry, mate, same here.”

“I really d-”

“Oh like hell. You absolutely have, of course you have. I’m not stupid. And I mean it’s not like I can blame you. Look at ‘er.” She lifted her hands again at the other woman as if her existence was the only proof needed. In fairness, it probably was.

John nodded solemnly. “Alright. So what next, fisticuffs? Rifles at dawn? You can get in an early dig at my honor if you want, I’ll let you go first.”

She laughed. “Naw mate, she is way out of my league. Out of your league too, now that I think about it.” London put a playful elbow in his ribs. “She still likes you though. I can tell. Haven’t seen her smile at a single bloke until she saw you.”

He cleared his throat. “And uh, what about the driver? Masters. What’s the deal there?”

London’s smile evaporated. “He’s a prick,” she said flatly.

- 12:40am

“Alright, the suspense is killing me,” Blackpool said at last. She’d taken to pacing around the lounge with her phone in her hands and had veered out of her path to the front desk suddenly.

“I’m sorry?” he said, blinking.

“You said people called you the Doctor. Why?”

John waved a dismissive hand. “It’s really not that interesting, honestly.”

“C’mon.”

“Why do you want to know?”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “Because I am dying of boredom. And because, quite frankly, I like listening to you talk.” John fumbled his pen. Blackpool didn’t seem to notice. She tilted her head. “How’s your cough, by the way? I suppose I shouldn’t bother you. Talking might actually be a bad idea….oh god, I am rambling aren’t I?”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said dryly.

“Right. Well. I’ll just, uhm.” She motioned away.

“I had something of a reputation when I was younger,” he said suddenly, not really wanting to tell but wanting her to leave even less. “Drugs. College,” he shrugged. “Nothing terribly shocking, but also not very legal. Used to get folk turning up at all hours on my doorstep, worn out or strung out or heartbroken. I’d find the right remedy in my bag of tricks to calm them down, get them talking.”

“A stoner psychologist?”

“Basically.” He leaned back and spread his hands. “The Doctor is in.”

- 1:17am

Boredom took over rather quickly. D-or-Dee, a youth with a partially shaved head and a pocket full of quarters went around feeding coins into the slots of the tiny mounted TVs, looking for one that still worked. For awhile, several of them crowded around to catch the weather reports - snow, lots of; we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming - but it quickly became apparent that the only thing on this late was going to be infomercials and horrible sitcom reruns. The tiny knot of people dispersed, and the youth settled for twiddling the radio dials, trying to find a signal in the squelch and static.

“How do you manage alone here at night?” Blackpool said, leaning over the front desk and swirling the last dregs of her instant coffee as he scratched at a newspaper with a pen. “This place is practically prehistoric. I keep waiting for a dinosaur to jump out of the ladies’ and come charging out to eat us.”

“Alas, it’s never been quite that interesting. But I manage, mostly.” John wiggled his pen at the desktop, heavily populated with familiar nightshift detritus: thin paperbacks (Vonnegut and Iain M. Banks stuff mostly), crosswords, at least three newspapers, and an mp3 player half-hidden under a pack of L&M cigarettes. A stack of monitors to his right showed crackly footage from security cameras in the station; two from the lounge, one in the hall by the lavs, and two outside at the front and back entrances. He gave them a cursory glance and saw nothing amiss. Then looked again, brows knitting together. That wasn’t entirely true. Something wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He checked the doors again and did a head count, lost count, tried again, distracted by the way Masters was leaning over three chairs to talk to London, who was resolutely ignoring him. John felt the first twinge of a headache at his temples. What the hell was he missing?

And then Blackpool’s arm darted in front of him and grabbed the mp3 player and the cigarettes in one quick swoop that left him blinking.

“Oi, Quick Draw McGraw, give over!”

Blackpool shook the cigarette pack and gave him a disapproving glare. “Seriously?”

He scowled. She seemed to bring that out in him. “I’m old enough, miss, honest. I’ve got ID, I can prove it, even.”

“These can’t be doing your lungs any favors.”

“When did you turn into my mother?”

“Well, if you’re going to be like that I guess I’ll just have to take your toys away,” she said coolly, slipping them into her pocket.

John scoffed. “You really want to be stuck in here with a crotchety old bugger going off nicotine? Trust me, it won’t be pretty.”

“You ought to take better care of yourself, y’know.” The playfulness hadn’t gone, not entirely, but there was a genuine edge of concern.

John felt heat creep up his face and grumbled, fiddling with his hair. That inexplicable urge to tell her hit him again. Christ, he was pathetic. Was this all it took? A pretty face and a kind word, and he was ready to fall on his knees and confess. It was a sin anyway, wasn’t it? Suicide by inaction. Jesus. Get ahold of yourself for fuck’s sake.

Blackpool held up the mp3 player. “Got anything good in here?”

“Depends on your definition of good.”

Music warbled faintly from the earbuds as she shuffled through his playlist. “Bowie. Lots of Bowie. Miles Davis. Screaming Trees. And...Peter Andre?” She gave him a look that was just a hair’s breadth away from mocking.

“It got stuck in my head, ok? It was either download it or put a plastic spork in my ear.”

She laughed, properly laughed, round face all crinkled up, rocking on her elbows. Any indignance he might’ve felt fled immediately. He watched her laugh and felt a little of the malaise drain from his limbs.

Blackpool shook her head at him, eyes sparkling. “Well, that’s good to see.”

“What?”

“You. Smilin’.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. He hadn’t even realized.

She patted his hand. A fleeting touch, but enough to make his heart catch almost painfully. “It looks good on you,” she said.

“Oh, flattering an old man,” he said. “If you’re here for my many many riches, as clearly evidenced by my glamorous, high-paying position, I’m afraid I have bad news.”

“Shut up,” she smacked his shoulder lightly.

“I just thought you should be aware!” he carried on, blustering his way through the blush that wanted to creep up his cheeks again.

A sudden burst of static made the both of them jump. D-or-Dee cheered happily, having finally found a radio signal that wasn’t just weather reports or bad country music. Violin strings cut through the crackle and pop in a lilting swell. A guitar crawled in in response, sweet and slow as molasses. John recognized it, an old Fleetwood Mac tune from the Peter Green days.

Melvin, the old guy, was on his feet suddenly, tugging at his wife’s arm. Tilly cackled, called him a sentimental old goat. And then she went to him, smiling sweetly, hands clasped together, one arm on his shoulder. They revolved slowly, beaming at one another.

A few others joined them, Dave/Dan/Doug, the youngish fellow with spiky hair, offered his hand to Susan, a woman about John’s age who laughed musically and joked about breaking her hip, but went anyway. D-or-Dee snatched up London even as Masters was moving closer and twirled her away while the driver was left sneering. A cold little prickle crawled up the back of John’s neck as he locked eyes with the driver. He was going to be trouble. Before sun up, John was certain, he would be trouble.

Blackpool’s hand was on his again, her eyes locked mistily on the elderly couple. “Dance with me?” she asked suddenly.

He sputtered, half-laughing, an immediate refusal on his lips, but then she turned her head and he saw the tears in her eyes. He knew that look. It wasn’t wistfulness but hurt, like an old wound had suddenly reopened. John felt his heart perched on the edge of something he didn’t want to name, teetering, ready to fall. He could let it, knowing at once he’d give anything to take away whatever pain had filled her, and chastised himself for the foolishness.

As if he could. The plows would go out in the morning and she would be on another bus and that would be it. And anyway, he was old enough to be her father and not likely to see the last snows of the season melt. Nothing lasted, not ever. The kid turned the music up, and John felt it working in his chest. A little miracle, a little spark crackling away inside. Old and battered and still playing something sweet and strong enough to make him feel. Maybe that wasn’t all the music. Maybe.

Nothing lasted, but maybe it didn’t have to last to be worth it.

John squeezed her hand once and made for the door. The security monitors dragged his attention for a split second, but he kept moving. Whatever it was, it could wait another five minutes. Blackpool held her arms out as he rounded the desk. He hesitated, swallowing hard. People were watching. London looked at once hopelessly amused and somehow proud. She grinned at him and popped a double thumbs-up, giggling. The driver looked significantly less pleased. The man’s face had gone rat-like and sour, staring at them both with such utter contempt John could almost feel it on his skin, slippery and unpleasant like motor oil.

But Blackpool’s eyes were turned up to him, wide and dark and too full. You wave and you wave with your wide lovely eyes ran through his head with a kind of sick-sweet flush. He went to her. London pumped her fist discretely in triumph.

“You’re cold,” he said as she curled around his shoulder.

“I’m alright.” She took his left hand with her right. Should’ve felt odd. Probably. It didn’t. She led and he followed, trying to pretend he was more than a gangly wreck of limbs and mad silver hair.

She settled against him, fingers worrying over the ring on his hand. “I hope I’m not,” she paused, pressed her face to his jacket, tried to start again. “I dunno, overstepping or something. I don’t want you to think I’m trying to put the mack on a married man.”

His eyebrows flew up. “You’re putting the mack on me now, are you?”

“Shut up,” she said, but there was a chuckle in it.

“I’m not married anymore. It’s sentiment, I suppose. Maybe just habit by now. Just never taken it off.”

She looked up at him, searching his face as if looking for the answer to something she didn’t quite want to ask. She seemed to find it. He could guess; a ghost of that same hurt he’d seen in her face. “I’m sorry,” she said.

John’s mouth went painfully dry. “You too, eh?” he asked.

She nodded. “We weren’t married,” she said, so quiet he could just barely hear her over the music. “But he was going to propose.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Her breath hitched, and she swayed a little in his arms, head down low on his shoulder. John turned them slowly, putting his back to the room, giving her what little privacy he could. He stared out the window. The snow was coming down harder, big fat snowballs of the stuff forming new drifts in the track he had cleared. The sky outside was a dull, muddied pink, the snow drifts colored orange in the streetlights. Blackpool wept discreetly, not making a sound, but he felt tears soak through his hoodie to his t-shirt, and wondered that even those felt cold. He pressed his hand into the small of her back, thumb rubbing absently against her spine, and he tucked the top of her head under his chin. She smelled faintly of lilac soap and deep, bitter chocolate.

“Thank you,” she said as the song ended.

“What for?”

“For being kind.” She looked up at him again, and he watched the last of her tears spill down her cheeks. “That’s rarer than it ought to be.”

A commercial for Thompson’s Water Seal replaced Peter Green, and the other pairs drifted apart. John barely noticed. Her eyes skimmed down over his face, pausing long enough at his lips to make his heart beat faster. She couldn’t possibly...

A cracking from outside made his head snap up, and John watched as a heavy branch bowed over the power lines, cracking and popping. He swore, dropping his hand to his belt where his maglite hung, just as the branch gave way and fell.

In the split second before the darkness descended, John finally registered what had been wrong with the cctv feed. As light as it was outside, even at this hour, the inside of the station was brighter, and he saw himself reflected in the plate glass of the sliding doors. Six feet of wiry thin Scot. Face a little too long, a little too drawn now, but eyes as bright and cold as the night outside. His hands hovered in midair, clasping nothingness.

Of the woman in his arms, there was no sign. Blackpool had no reflection.

#whouffaldi #twelve x clara #doctor who fanfiction #twelfth doctor #clara oswald #vamp!clara #bc I haven't actually gotten to do a romance/horror au ever #let me live

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awesome-legendarystudentcho-blog · 6 years

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I need a form for allstate car insurance good student discount?

Will I considered to drive a car without insurance?

Hi. I been driving without insurance for months because my mom told me to wait until her insurance expired and will add me to her policy in june. My mom add me to her policy a few days ago and my car insurance will only start valid on june 2, 2013. Yesterday, I was pulled over and got a ticket. Will I considered to drive a car without insurance? My mom was very mad at me because I didn't get any ticket for months and not involve in any accidents and now only 10 days until my car insurance valid, I got a ticket. Please help, I don't want to have 2 violation case especially drive without car insurance""

How do we work with insurance companies in California?

We are a Southern California Drywall Company and would like to work with insurance companies. How do we get started?

For a 19 yr old what is the best and cheap insurance in los Angeles?

I live in los angeles and the car insurance companies wants me to pay 300.00 dollars every month and thats to much for me.

Would insurance company likely settle for 15K?

Auto accident....my lawyer asking for 25K, insurance company said 12K (my lawyer wants to go to court and all that, I really do not want to; I just want to get this over with) My lawyer said it's worth much more than 25K but that's all the limit is. If I ask the lawyer to try & negotiate 15K w/o going to court; how likely or unlikely that the insurance company (State Farm) agree? If they do agree, how long before they send the check? I need to pay my doctor bills off and get another car (I am so ready for this to be over with!!!!) Thanks.""

Car Insurance Liability?

Should I go around and get $2000000 in liability, or should I just go with $1000000?""

I am going to drive in a few years can somebody list some cars that are sporty but low on insurance?

please add if you can the insurance rates and the car name thanks!!

Insurance for new drivers?

hi i am about to turn 18 and for my birthday my mom and me are going to lease a car for me. the car is 20000 and its new. the insurance is crazzzy expensive but my mom is going to by a car to right when i am so is just keep that i mind for the insurance and stuff. what is the cheapest way to get insurance?? please help

""Car payments, insurance and registration fees?""

I want to buy a car soon, but besides the car payment I was wondering how much it costs to register the car. Also I dont know if I have to register a car if Im buying a used car (itll be a newer year, but used). Im only 18 (female) and I just received my license a little while ago. Also how do I see how much insurance will cost me? Im on a budget because Im also attending college (graduated high school) and Im paying for everything myself. I do not have people to rely on for any financial aid. Though, I may ask for a car loan if I can get one. I live in the sate of Oregon (If laws vary in different states).""

Affordable term life insurance quote?

What good is affordable term life insurance in florida?

Medical insurance?

I am looking to obtain a medical insurance policy. Any insurance brokers out there want to quote me? I am 21 years old. I have excellent health. 6 foot 160 llbs. 92630 zip code. California.

Are States legally allowed to require car insurance?

Can the State legally mandate that citizens buy insurance from consumer agencies that have little to no regulation of price and guaranteed service? Can we consider this question with ...show more

Do Muslims pay more for insurance?

I live in Slough, Bucks. My car insurance is very expensive due to where I live. Some insurance companies wont even provide insurance at all in my area. I looked at a map at an insurance brokers that showed high risk areas and I have noticed that the high risk/expensive areas happen to have a high Muslim population. Are the government aware of this.""

What is Private Mortgage Insurance?

What's an easy definition for Private Mortgage Insurance?

Does car insurance cover vandalism?

My husbands crazy ex wife. Keyed my car, slit my tires, and put something in my gas tank because my car wont start now. Does my insurance cover it? I have full coverage.""

""Where are some companies in Memphis,Tn I can find cheap auto insurance?""

Where are some companies in Memphis,Tn I can find cheap auto insurance?""

How much would my insurance cost?

I can't seem to get some of the online quotes to work?? I'm 21, have been driving since I was 16, with NO blemishes on my record. I (will) drive a 2006 Acura TL. Just a ball park number. Thanks!""

Affordable eye insurance (college student)?

I'm currently an undergrad student and I wear glasses which broke a few days ago .. I don't have insurance as of right now so I'm looking for some . I just need something basic that will cover the costs of eye glass exam and contact eye exam , contact lens , eye glass lens and the frame . Something that isn't too expensive but not too cheap where the insurance isn't good .. Like some that are cheap require you to pay for our exams out of pocket and then wait to be reimbursed . I can't have that . I need something where I can pay at a set rate and not have to worry about having to pay hundreds of $$$ and wait to get it back .""

Motorcycle insurance on a 17 year old.?

i'm 17 years old and planning on gettin a sportbike. i was wonderin how much full coverage cost for a suzuki gsr 600.

collector car insurance companies

Can health insurance coverage be denied (because of a prexisting condition) after COBRA expires?

I retired from my job at 65. After my retirement my company kicked out our two dependent children from the company health plan. Both children are at this time still ...show more

Can you explain to me how health insurance works?

So I'm looking to buy a good health insurance that cover women's exams, such as breasts, and other parts of the body. And I'm married to my husband so we need insurance for the both of us. Is it better to pay high amount first and then make low payment on it? Can you explain this to me? Thanks.""

Cheapest car insurance????

looking for a cheap car insurance guys, plz help""

How much would an insurance for a fresh driver 18 years old be for a golf mark 3with 0 no claims for the UK?

1.4 black 3 door im 17 18 in junethats when ima do it got my licence. got my car car has tints and rims with 1.6 engine registered as a 1.4 tho :P how much would it cost ima take the rims and tints off and put standard rims so insurance drops

Repair cost for rear view mirror?

I broke someones rear view mirror. If I don't have to go through my insurance company I'd rather not. About how much does it cost to replace them? I don't know the make or model of the car.

Need alot of work done but no insurance any good dental insurance?

Iam self employed and need my wisdom teeth removed and also need braces but i have no insurance is there a good dental insurance out there so i dont have a huge debt?

""My husband has bad knee pain, but doesn't want to go to the dr. due to having no insurance.?""

my husband dislocated his knee 3 months ago and has been in excruciating pain lately. He can't bend, walk on, put weight on his knee without it giving out and making him fall. He wont go to the dr, since we don't have any insurance (in orange co, calif) and he feels that IF he does go then they will put him in a brace or something that will hinder him from working. And since we are living paycheck to paycheck we can't afford to have him miss a lot of work. Meanwhile, he is in a very, very grumpy mood (which I can understand) and he keeps getting himself drunk so the pain will go away or is more manageable yet we all know that it wont help. Is there any advice as to what to do to make him go to the Dr? or does anyone know of a place that we can go that will actually help him out with the xray/mri/ct that he will most likely need??""

""Car accident,no insurance?

My Sister got into a car accident . well they hit her in rear side of the car. Tough it wasnt her fault does the other person pay for the damages even though she doesnt have any car insurance? This happend at her school. She was hit by another student that she knows that attends there...no police report was made but she gave us her information. ...So what im asking does it matter if she doesnt have car insurance? can she still have her car fixed?

Car Insurance - Older owner still has insurance on it?

I had my car signed over to me on the 2nd November and received my V5 back on the 10th. I got the car insured ASAP as required on a daily basis. I have recently found out that the previous owner STILL has insurance on it and has arranged for it to be fully cancelled on the 1st December to collect their no claims bonus. Obviously I cannot make them cancel the policy but does this invalidate my insurance until the 1st Dec/make it illegal to use my car until this date?

Is there an affordable health insurance plan for someone who doesn't make a lot of money?

I'm 23 and I work 2 jobs. I go to school part time. After I pay all my bills I don't have much money left.

How can someone get health care if insurance denies them?

My mom was seeing a psychiatrist and on lots of meds a few years ago. She since lost her job and kaiser and all the insurance companies won't cover her. She's been sick for two weeks and had to go to the emergency room yesterday. She can't afford to get care without insurance and I'm really worried about her, she's throwing up and passing out with a fever and all the emergency room gave her were antibiotics and said it might be a kidney infection. I told her to go to Mexico to find an affordable doctor but she can't even get out of bed. Any suggestions? I'm thinking of taking next semester off and giving her my student loan as a last resort.""

Why do you not want to buy insurance?

I'm a believer of having protection and that's why I joined the industry as an agent. I do not like to force sell to buy so I'm here trying to collect the possible reasons to why people are not paying attention to getting themselves covered. Also, what do you understand about insurance?""

Do Americans want Gov't run healthcare like medicaid and medicare or do they want affordable health insurance?

Looking for a good health insurance?

I am 23 and my husband is 25, we are in great health, and are looking for health insurance. I want an affordable plan, but also one which is widely accepted. I know insurance isn't exactly affordable, but I hope you all can go along with what I am saying. Thanks""

Do i need to have insurance if i don't use a car?

Please tell me - do i need to have insurance when i don't use a car? I'm buying car next week but after that i'm going abroad for a month and nobody will use this car. I would like to know if i can keep car in garage for this time without insurance and buy when i go back? Maybe its comuplsory to have insurance for all time when i'm cars owner?

Is there some type of dental insurance that is affordable??

I am 38 y/o male who needs to finally look into some dental insurance that is affordable/ I have some teeth that needs to be fix ASAP thanks for your Help Bri

How do online insurance quotes know the cars I own?

How do online insurance quotes (via Progressive, State Farm, etc.) know what cars I own based only on my name, address, and birth date? What kind of database houses this information?""

Is marriage really that important?

What's a good homeowners insurance in California?

A friend of mine just bought a home for the first time. She wants to know if there's any recommended insurance for homes in California.. particularly Fresno, CA if anybody is familiar with any. Thanks in advance. Any suggestions or direction will do.""

Best insurance for car sharers?

I want to share a car with my friend, its her car and we will share tax and maintenance but the big problem is insurance. In the worst case scenario of my having an accident I don't want to jeopardise her no claims discount I ideally would also like to build up my own no claims if possible. Can we do this on the same policy? Does anyone have any ideas about the best type of policy to get? I thought I could just get my own separate insurance but apparently it is illegal to have two policies on one car. I am confused and I dont want to end up getting into a tricky situation down the line with a friend if we havent thought it through properly, any ideas?""

I wonder how many points will my insurance raise ?

So my car was parked in-front of a SUV Lexus in a parking lot. Then, i left my friend's house and started to drive. I stepped on the gas pedal to drive forward but i forgot that the car was still in Reverse mode. So i hit the Lexus car which was behind my car and luckily no one was in that car. There is damage on that car's left side headlight and left-side of the bumper. I wonder how many points will my insurance raise ? i just got the license like a few months ago and this is my fist accident. The SUV Lexus car's parts and labor fee is really expensive so i might don't have enough cash to pay them thou. (estimate $3000-$5000)""

Do mopeds in California require insurance?

Can I take off car insurance if my car has been repoed?

My car has been repoed due to lack of payments and thus they repoed the car. They are even already putting it back on sale. Can I take off the car insurance, then?""

""Thanks To Democrats, I Can't Afford Health Insurance?""

I live in New Jersey. But, Democrats refuse to allow me to buy a health insurance plan based in Pennsylvania, where insurance is cheaper. Why do Democrats make life so hard on ...show more""

New Laws in CA????? Help , Can Someone tell me About this New laws in Cal about you have have to have car Insurance?, I thought that that was already a law? Was it?? And if you regiester a car in CA. you must have car insurance or your brecking the law ? True or false ?????""

collector car insurance companies

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/kia-sportage-2016-insurance-group-noah-washington/"

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