#class work! Stuff for beer packaging but without the type

[cranity]

Big bad wolf 

#class work! Stuff for beer packaging but without the type #werewolf #wolf #tattoo art #my art #artists on tumblr

[yeswritingsandwritings]

COVID Diaries; Pennies

It is March 2020 and I’ve channeled the spirit of Paul Revere. As Los Angeles erupts into rioting and mass fentanyl suicide, I dive headfirst into the cabin of the Mazda, and gun the packed ship upwards along the vacant I5 corridor. Every smouldering city under Gavin Newsom looks further gone than the last. The navigation takes me on some perverse fantasy detour thru post-apocalyptic San Francisco. It’s been a long time coming but now it’s solidified. The mayor and her delegates have chomped their cyanide pills and now the streets and bridges offer rotting cars beside silent, beautiful Victorian manors. Still in full color, the sky is blue and the sun is yellow, gleaming indifferently. I am nervous about San Franscisco County. The shelter in place order says no one shall be out on the street without proper reason. And, proper reason or not, I have a pharmacy of drugs in the trunk of my car. Will it be enough to wait out the pandemic in my mother’s house? Enough to keep me sane tucked in the basement of the compound on Cougar Mountain, Issaquah, Washington, for GodKnowsHowLong? My very own Bavarian Alps.

For years in LA I have lived for high speed and hard sex in a blackout frenzy which no young American could denigrate without looking like a nerd. In our culture of excess I sought the most insane, unexplored corridors. Chavionistic romps through the bitter forests of lust, contamination, too-young suicide, too-good blowjobs that leave explosions on this cast of characters flown from every corner of the globe, all with the same indelible fever. I come to now, in this chaotic month handed down by God, March 2020, and I’m withdrawing from all of it in the penthouse on the side of the mountain.

In this moment the fantasy is fading fast, like being jolted from a wet dream by a home invasion. For a lot of people the American dream was already a flickering ember in the distance, a relic of some stupid pilgrimgrage for egoic glory, a blind propaganda puzzle piece with no jigsaw to belong to. But I had formed my own relationship with the concept, and, until now, had believed wholeheartedly in the myth in America; or at least that myth’s capacity to spur significant action, which could abolish hunger and pain, mistreatment and misunderstanding, which could deliver us from evil and unto the kingdom of heaven.

I am not, to many of her 300 million pairs of eyes, a portrait of traditional American success. I am the starving artist archetype. I’ve lived in abandoned buildings and shot cocaine into my veins in the speeding bathroom of many an Amtrak carriage. These may be my most definitive traits, save for the music I somehow manage to draw out of all of this. Albums worth of potential answers to the impossible questions. Sometimes I think I’ve reached the peak, with the LSD and the naked festival girls. I am 26 years old and feel incompetent. I go to pay a traffic ticket or am electric bill and find myself paralyzed at the entrance to the website. In a moment of otherworldly strength I call the bank and my debit card has been cancelled. I stare at the parking ticket in my pod, which has been rented from a company called Up(Start), and is arranged in a row with twenty others. At least I’ve made it to Los Angeles.

Up(Start) is a strange place. I find most people don’t last very long in this community. They leave back to their hometowns or find apartments. The ones who stay haunt this place like ghosts, with no discernible goals and mysterious incomes. I’ve learned not to ask how these life-longers pay the rent. The answer is not translatable.

Willow is one of these life-longers. She always talks about moving out; sometimes to an apartment in LA, most recently about some nebulous palace in France. She says her grandmother died and left her everything. She shows me a suitcase full of watches and rings that still can’t fully convince me of her story. She drinks vodka when she wakes up and convinces me to fuck her when Jesse leaves us in his room alone.

Jesse found his way out to a beautiful house in Silver Lake. He had been at Up(Start) for a year before that. He is the nicest guy I know, offering the coat off his back for nothing but a swig of your vodka in return.

I left these characters behind, keeping a steady 65 on the interstate and stopping only to black out in a hotel room in Redding, CA. Summer, inspirational barista and blowjob queen, dared me to stop and see her in Portland, but my body was crawling from scabies from Lucy, (who was also in Portland and, I would later learn, infected with the virus) and I sped right through.

My younger brother Jon was at the house and had been awaiting my arrival. I instantly understood why. My mother had become a figurehead for the national panic, and shoulder-hugged me with her mask on. She is, as we speak, sterilizing the place.

I’ve gotten to spend a good amount of time with Jon, and am somewhat surprised to find that he faces the same existential torment as I do. This is not something we talk about, but I can feel it on him. He is super into Xanax, and orders pressed bars off the darknet. I share the drugs I’ve brought with him. Kratom, weed, and, —most enticing— Flubromazolam. I learn that he has been kicked out of UW on academic probation. I ask him about it in front of my mother and stepdad. With a casualness that shocks me he says he just didn’t care about any of his classes. But he’s got reaccepted to the school and he says he’s going to make it this time.

I show him how I order my drugs online. I show him the designer benzodiazepines on the clearnet, pennies per dose. We place an order for O-DSMT. It’s an insane solution to our problems, but I guarantee you it works.

I tell Jon about my life in LA with the stuff. Taking it and driving weed deliveries all day. I don’t tell him about the long nights with Lucy, telling her the love I feel from the opiate is sourced from her, then failing to get hard.

Jon, for his part, tells me about the peak of his Oxycontin habit, poppin 7 OC30’s a day with his buddies at Rolling Loud. I was just a few blocks away. I didn’t know he was in town.

We order the O-DSMT to his apartment in the U District, stopping to and snag it on our sole vacation to Dad’s for dinner. Two packages have been delivered. We have the save pavlov response. We carry the packages to his apartment on the top floor and split the bubble wrap with a butterfly knife. Out of a manilla envelope comes 100 green Xanax bars. From a bent UPS envelope comes a gram of O-DSMT and 250mg of 4-ACO-DMT, a bonus for me (Jon says he hates psychedelics).

We set to the scale and split the gram, dosing 50mg then and there to get through dinner. The next day he visits me in the basement, saying “Yo, this O-DSMT shit… it’s dope.”

I say “I’m with you.”

My days are spent deep in the dream flow, recording songs for a hopeful fourth album. The third one is still far from complete, but I can’t go back and meddle with those songs now. Wouldn’t dare touch their Los Angeles essence with the hand of the evergreen state. They will go to Rob and Twon and Andy as they are.

I’m back to guitars for the new album. Cardinal sin AC/DC type songs. I think it may be a double album, quarantine permitting. I want an exploratory, unstructured, throw paint at the wall and see what sticks, White album/Life of Pablo situation. I want solo piano pieces and Aphex Twin-esque 808 excursions. I want the label to release it on white vinyl with extensive liner notes. Indulgence. I want this album to be the one where I say “indulge me.”

If Rob is vehimently opposed to the idea I had the fantasy of making an easy album. Taking songs like Parade Owl, See You Tomorrow, Miss Can’t Sleep and putting out a whole album of them. Good rock music. Take a step back from the frontlines; the cutting edge. We’ll see what sticks to the wall after this quarantine is over.

Weeks drift by. There’s a trade route for all the beer that gets brought into the house. It goes from the garage fridge to the basement fridge to my eager hand, to my mouth, to my blood. Night by night the ritual recurs, til my mom takes out the downstairs trash and finds all the empties. She makes some subtle comment. I tell her to buy more White Claw.

Despite the drug flow my inspiration seems to be drying up. Rob took a listen to the twenty five songs I’d completed since arriving in Issaquah and said they sounded like Dogs. The old band. The old rock and roll band we’ve been trying to move away from. I was disappointed to hear him say it. I was disappointed he wasn’t excited about the songs. “Fuck it, should I scrap them all?” I asked myself. Then I started to look around the house and understand that if nothing came of these songs… I must be insane. I must be losing it. The stupid research chemical stimulants don’t help. I thought they would. Productivity and all… but I’m just jittery, texting strangers on Instagram for hours, all the while feeling like I should be doing something else. And the television is on in the background, and I told myself I was going to do so much to day. And I did it. And people on Instagram say “you seem busy.” They’ve always said I seem this and I seem that. I never agreed with any of it, but they probably know me better than I do. How could I see myself? I look for myself through a fog and it’s only a ripple of a shadow. A microcosm a million miles away through a hellscape with no up or down, no east or west. They say I’m social. They say I’m a socialite. Really I just get drunk and unleash all my nervous energy on the party or, nowadays, the Zoom meeting.

Today I drink Modello. Ma and Chuck went to the Seattle waterfront for a picnic or something. I didn’t get the details. But the sun should be going down now, and she’s texting me asking if I want to play a board game when they get back. I say yeah sure I do. My temper when I’m off these amphetamines analogues, though… I worry I’ll flip the Pictionary board. Slam dunk the wine glass onto the wood floor. Now the cliffhanger; will this Modello calm my nerves?

This morning I went with mom to buy plants for the garden. I thought we were going to get seeds but she wanted the already grown ones. She was ready to be angry. Nothing made her happy. We went to three different garden store. I think she got some tomatos. How the hell am I going to get out of this one? Feels like the walls are closing in. I feel like I’m in the freezer in the back of McDonalds. I feel so sad for her, but I also feel so sad for myself. I feel cut off. I feel short of breath. I feel terror. It is Friday, April 17, 2020. Dread, terror, paranoia… I’m sure it’s been felt a million times by a million people, but here’s my version of it. In this McMansion on the side of the mountain, feeling less like I have a mission than ever. Calling nobody. Freezing. Yeah I’m freezing.

My brother and I both have drugs to get through this crisis but I’m planning to get off them. I sold him half of my etizolam and half of another shipment of O-DSMT the other day. He wasn’t at all interested in the 2-FDCK, an analogue of the dissociative Ketamine. I am still not really sure what dissociatives do to consciousness. They can move you into states profound darkness. You feel like your life is a black and white film and it is raining outside. And it drips off the palm trees and you sit in traffic on the way back from the Boy’s and Girl’s Club, where the boys and girls wouldn’t listen, they’d just go off into their own worlds. I wonder how they’re all doing now, tucked into their parents houses in Calabasas.

Anyway, I said to Jon “I’m getting off the stuff.” And I intended to. This journal finds me at a crossroads between fantasy and reality. What is my life going to be for? Where do I cast this fishing pole? Well the pole’s been cast. It’s out there in the middle of the ocean. But at the same time it’s in my hand, in this very moment, and I can chose where to dip it. I’m not trying to catch a fish in this scenario, I just like the serenity of the bay.

The question on everyone’s mind is: “If not drugs, then what!?” That’s a great question and I’d be bullshitting if I said I could answer it. I don’t know what lies on the other side of this life. I want to find out. Do I truly? I have to truly. Love, sex, work, victory… I’ve seen all these things before. And I keep turning to these substances. They fill up my days and my hours and all the music is informed by them. They move my hands to play the guitar and my voice is scratchy when it comes out. I’ve formed an identity around these drugs to a certain extent. That idea of me has to die. It does. I’ll have to mourn it. I’ll have to mourn a lot. I guess I don’t know what to be afraid of. I know a lot of stuff is going to come up through this process. The drugs numb it all out. People say that but it’s really really true. Bad news doesn’t don’t hit you as hard. Most things don’t hit you at all. You’re in your world. You’re off in a cloud. You’re unaware of the world around you. You’re afraid to engage. Why?

It’s easier not to ask why. It’s easier to get the immediate relief of a squirt of etizolam tincture. Or a gross tossing of O-DSMT powder into your mouth and a quick washdown with water. In this way you don’t have to answer any questions. In this way nothing hits you. And guess what else? All your heroes did the same thing.

But a lot of them died doing it. And you don’t want to die. You really really don’t want to die. You want to live a long life, with kids and grandkids, and see what happens to America and what music turns into. You don’t want to die, but what do you have to live for? You know you can make things up. Everyone’s always making shit up. All of this is made up. The culture, the value of a dollar, the value of a Benz. We just decide on it. And that takes a lot. But you know what takes a lot less? Deciding how you want to react to each moment. This one and this one and this one. Do you know what I mean? They say a lot of stuff about the world. The world’s fucked. They say the world’s burning to the ground. They say we can’t leave our houses. They say America won’t be a super power by the end of all of this. But they’re making shit up. And I’m making shit up too. I’m whipping up like a chef. Throwing dishes out from the kitchen, but the dishes are words and actions and the kitchen is my mind. What kind of food am I throwing out? What kind of food am I serving the world? Let me serve love and hope. But for that to happen, let me cultivate it in myself first. Let me nurture it like a child. Let me see it sober. Let me take the steps in the right direction. It’s simple. It’s simpler than you think it is. What are you going to do right now, after reading this? Or while reading this? How are you going to face the world?

Jon told me he got into Xanax from the Famous Dex song “Japan.”

“Baby girl, what you doing, where your man? I just popped a xan, fifty thousand in Japan”

He told me his friends heard the song and picked up some Xanax because of it. They liked it and reached out to him “You’ve got to try this,” they said. My little brother, in the throes of this batshit demon force that will bury him. It might bury me too. The jury’s still out. Mom, just let me withdraw in peace. She brings down a space heater. I grow to love it. I lay down on the wood floor that the spiders sometimes dash across. The space heater comes close to burning me, but I’m ok. I stand up, dizzy from all I’ve done to try to combat the withdrawls. Way too much etizolam, way to much kratom, getting to the point of way too much weed and alcohol. But hopefully it’ll all be over soon, and I can call my friends in peace and not want to slam down the phone whenever there is the tiny threat of silence, or whenever I speak, or whenever they speak. I can’t any of it sober, that’s what I think. Life is hard sober; it’s a breeze when you’re floating thru it. A good dream. So why get sober? They say it’ll kill me. Well, I said that. In this very same paragraph. And maybe it will. But when you’re withdrawing like this… all you want is a moment of peace.

Oh God, at dinner tonight I started to go off about my own mental state to the family. I should have known it was a big mistaken, but on my way home from Doordashing a rainy Issaquah I stopped at QFC and got a bottle of True Eagle American Spirits, Kentucky manufactured vodka. And, helping myself to serving of kimchi,  I said to them “I think I’m losing it.” And the conversation spiraled until my mother asked me “Are you suicidal?” And “Are you struggling with drugs?” Jon, between us, must have felt betrayed, but I just wanted to feel understood. I feel Chuck does not want to understand. I understand what he’s sacrificed for the life he has, but what value does that life has to him? He has a tumor in his jawbone, and it’s eating away at him, and no one can do anything. And they can’t get out to the specialists on the East Coast, and they won’t do the invasive surgery. He’s too busy. I know, in some capacity, he understands. Because he blows these things off like they don’t matter at all, when anyday he could have a stroke like Grandma had, fall to the floor of the kitchen while dishing up his kimchi, or pulling a slice of pizza out of the carton. I feel the same way. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but I know that I am mentally unwell. And I avoid the questions about my drug use and about my suicidality. I miss girls, ma. I miss pussy and parties and not giving a fuck. The way I don’t give a fuck now is in these terrifying sound collages drafted on the latest of nights, in the deep dark depths of quaratine. What was I saying in the last one? Something about how I didn’t wanna kill the crabs on the beach on Whidbey Island as a kid. Holy shit I’m losing my mind. But it’s all fine, isn’t it? As long as the music comes out fine.

What could I possibly do to get healthy? I feel so far off the deep end. You have no idea; I feel like crying. My best friend, living with the girl I thought I could always go back to. We don’t talk. I mix these ketamine analogues in with that cheap cheap vodka (plus etizolam) and cry tears onto this plastic table. It’s pointless to keep up the tinder courtships. I feel like this will never end. And it started with such a bang. I was such a part of history. Now I’m a nobody; I’m a junkie, holding on by the thinnest thread. No energy to pray. I feel like Cobain, and I know so many people do… but I really do. I can only imagine. But I’m only listening to Mingus, Lana Del Rey and Radiohead (Kid A thru Hail to The Thief).

Should I throw weed in the mix? Lord knows I have enough of it. It’s my number one priority. I’ve made enough songs now that we could workshop what I’ve come up with years. What else is there to do? Mingus ripped the piano strings out of some pianist’s instrument in front of a live audience, then stormed off the stage. Where the fuck is that in my life? I’m in front of the computer, weeping because America has come to a close. You know they sent jazz to the Soviet Union as a WEAPON? A weapon of freedom and democracy and individualism. What the fuck happened? It all makes me want to cry. It’s all too much; this world. These people I’ve known and loved and lost. This music I’ve made that they promise me will be something, but I don’t know if I believe them. I don’t know if I want anything to do with this life. I can’t engage with my culture anymore… my history. I feel like I’m not a part of it. I feel so disconnected. Who’s rippin the strings out of MY piano? Or who’s piano am I ripping the strings out of? We’ve lost so much… I mean… I’ll do my best to work with what we still have, but we’ve been so fractured. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was the end. Of America. Of our culture. Of our music and our hustle and bustle and industry and lover’s lanes and rites of passage. I feel like I’m mourning it now. Mourning my culture. Maybe mourning the illusion that was sold to us. Believe me, I was first in line to buy. That’s why it destroys me so deeply to see it collapse.

I guess we’re all one people. I’m crying writing this. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Grieving. You know what grieving is. I remember what’s-her-name in the pool. We went to every hot tub, each a different temperature, in the Desert Hot Springs Resort. Then Lucy’s friend’s new boyfriend told us Bernie Sanders had stayed there when he had visited DHS. I laughed so hard. Lucy ordered me another drink. She didn’t mind the cost. She liked me to be on her level. And I didn’t mind. I was proud to sip. We went back to the hotel and did god knows what. Feels a million lifetimes away.

This was back when anything could happen. When America was a blank slate and no one could predict anything. When you could go outside and say “What the fuck is up?” and get in adventures. I mourn the loss of that. Maybe it’s all in my head. Maybe that’s still there. But I’ve emotionally severed my ties to it. And I wish I didn’t. Because I love it. I love it so much. It’s not a myth. I swear to god it’s not a myrh. It was a reality… until all this happened. You have no idea. I mean, if you’re reading this and weren’t around before. You have no idea. I mean… I don’t know what things are going to be like after this. But not the same. There’s no way they could be the same.

You know I hope I get this shit. I hope I contract COVID-19. Lay in this guest bedroom bed with the scabies I may or may not have gotten from Upstart Creative Living… and which wouldn’t die off. I hope I can’t breathe. I hope I’m immune. I want to walk the world. Maybe I should go out, get it, isolate, heal, be immune… if that’s even possible. At this point we don’t even know if immunity is a thing that happens with COVID. But even if I could walk the earth without fear of it… everyone else is cowering, and they pull away from, seeing I’m not wearing a mask or gloves, or even if I am… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would all end this way. I would have done so much more. Focused so much more on each kiss. Even every note. I did my best, I guess. It feels like it’s all coming to an end. It’s Thursday, April 23, but that doesn’t mean anything. You have to understand how little dates mean in this time. It’s like we’re living in one of those time capsules buried beneath the walkway at WWU. Stagnant… yeah we write songs and poems and do our work and keep the economy from faltering completely… but there’s a different angle to look at it all now. The world is over. I mean, aha, to use the words of Rem… “It’s the End of the World As We Know It.” Key words: “As we know it.” I had no idea this would happen in my lifetime… I couldn’t even conceive it. If you would have told me this would have happened six months ago I wouldn’t have believed it. America seemed so stable. And now it feels like it’s in shambles. It really did feel stable. You may think I’m insane for saying America in September, 2019 seemed stable… but shit, we were free. And we were headed where we were headed. This throws a wrench in all of this. And it could be the end. And I thought this was the greatest country on earth. Happiness is a buttery, try to catch it like every night.

I’ve been fascinated in American history since I could understand it. Most specifically, I’ve been fascinated about how history is still happening. The closer you get you the current day, the harder it is to get a straight story. FDR did what he did and we won. That’s fact. That’s cement. Nixon? Everyone agrees he was a crook. But what about Reagan? What about Bush Sr? What about Clinton? The closer you get to the modern day, the more difficult it becomes to discern what is real and what is fake.

[mrs-dragneel-stark-solo]

Huntress in California

Part 5 of Long Gone

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairings: Winchesters X Sister!Reader Dean x sister!reader, Sam X Sister!reader, Claire, Crowley, mentions of  Dan, Jody, Donna, Alex  Word Count:1685  Warnings: there aren’t any real warnings this time. Sleep deprived Dean, fluff, Angst???

Dean’s POV

I’ve lost track of time and with Y/N still not being home it’s beginning to take a toll on me. I haven’t been sleeping well, I’ve been having nightmares of Y/N/N dying on a hunt and us not knowing. I’m running low on energy, but I can’t let them see me like this.

The more I research the better because I’ve gotten more cases to go on or have been looking out for clues as to where she may be. Sammy and Dan are starting to worry and although the guilt is starting to get worse I can’t do much now.

I just wish I knew if Y/N was okay and where she is that way some of this guilt would go away.

Dan’s been helping me a bit since she’s been here for a few months now which is alright but the one person I really need is Y/N/N. She always knew exactly where to look online for sources for cases and the fact that other hunters weren’t scared of her was a plus because that’s the only way others would hunt with us.

“Dean where are the keys to the other cars in the garage?” he asked me quickly

without looking up from what I was reading  “They’re hanging in the box near the garage buzzer.”

 “Thanks, I’m going on a run be back soon.” echoed off the walls as he jogged to the garage.

Going back to was I was looking at I got frustrated because I’ve been reading the same line for the past 20 minutes. I had opened up one of the books nearby to translate this I found but I couldn’t find the right translation.

“Dean you need to take a break you’ve been hunting or researching non-stop.” came Dan’s voice as she came closer and sat next to me trying to push the books away from my view.

“Dan I’m fine don’t worry about me,”

She kept talking but I had tuned her out since I had found that there’s been a duo of female hunters seen a few hours away from Jody. doesn’t say much else I’ll have to check that out later.

I tuned back in just in time to get word to Sammy there’s no more beer and I needed it.

“Yea can you do that and tell him to bring beer we’re running low on that.”

“Sure, thing Dean.” and with that she pulled her phone out and left me alone again.

Present time-

With Dan and Sammy worrying about Dean, and Sammy getting his letter to Claire to give to Y/N. everyone had something on their to do list. Currently on Crowley’s list is to find out where the youngest of the Winchesters is located. It may not be because he wants to help the two morons but because he’s become worried about her. Even though he would never admit it, but she’s grabbed a spot of his heart all to herself.

As King of hell he could have his demon go all over the place to locate Y/N and report back to him. He can’t seem to just snap his finger and appear wherever she is now but that’s not going to  stop him from looking. As annoying as it could be he’s yet to ask the boys as to why she isn’t in the bunker or why he can’t seem to get to her. Warranted he’s been told she’s still in the states

“Any news as to the whereabouts of that little hunter?” he had asked one if his minions.

“We’ve gotten news of a new huntress in California but we’ve yet to confirm that it’s her”

“Well what on earth are you waiting for!”  he looked up from playing candy crush “Bring me my hellhound”

“Yes sir, will that be all?” one of them asked stepping back.

“Cancel my meetings for tonight I have so errand to run”

“Right away” and he scurried away to find the person in charge of arranging the meetings.

Crowley wanted, no he needed to find out where exactly Y/N was before her idiots for brothers do. He knew nothing of what had happened between those three all he has was a feeling that things weren’t exactly right now. Although he didn’t care about those twos feelings he did care about hers no matter how much she may enjoy pestering him, he can’t seem stay away.

All thoughts were forgotten when Juliette came into the throne room making some of the demon’s scurry away lest they want to be dinner for her, she came directly to him and waited for her instructions.

“Juliette, darling I need you to look for Y/N there seems to be a new huntress in California and I can’t be sure if that is her or someone else.” Crowley spoke to the Hellhound as if though she could reply to him.

A growl is heard coming from the enormous beast.

“If by chance that is her I need you to come right back to me and we shall go there, I must figure out what is going on with these damn Winchesters.”

She ran off in search of Y/N to calm Crowley’s nerves, Juliette may not be able to speak but she understood that there was more to it than just simply watching out for the young huntress. She did prefer having Y/N around than her brothers, there was something about her that made Juliette want to be around her more often.

Y/N’s POV-

It’s been a month of me leaving the Bunker and at this point I’m fine on my own. I’ve been living in California for about three  weeks now and things have been great. I’ve had Claire come visit a few times and she’s kept me updated on what my brother’s are up to, I still feel bad for how much they keep bothering her.

“Jody sends her warm regards, so does Alex.” she and I talk on the phone sometimes.

“ Thanks Claire anything new over there? I caught wind of a new hunter showing up, care to explain that?” I asked I was still looking out for her I may not be close by but that doesn’t stop me from keeping an eye on her.

She nervously laughed, “You’re not gonna tell Jody are you? I’ve been doing good and I haven’t gotten majorly hurt” She pleads. She didn’t have to I wasn’t gonna get her in trouble.

“Claire you already know I’m not, I will however have someone keep an eye on you I don’t want you getting hurt” I reminded her.

“Thanks oh  and I have a letter for you, I know you probably don’t want it but it’s from Sam.” she said. “ and even though I insisted I didn’t know where you were He said that if I did to give it to you.” she finished

“Can you scan the letter and email it to me for now?” I uttered as I knew just what to do.

“Sure no problem but don’t you want the letter itself?” she questioned.

Yes, but I’ll just pick it up when I go visit y'all I promised Donna we’d meet up for  old times’ sake.” I  answered her.

“Listen I sent something to your house it’s a package for the three of you.” I started off

“ In there with your stuff there’s a letter for Sam I need you to give it to him the next time you see him” I instructed to her  “it’s addressed to him  with no return address if he asks say you got it in the mail.” I finished.

“No problem I can do that for you,” she replies as she through some papers. “when exactly will you be coming to visit?” she sounded distracted.

“In a few weeks,  the package may get there before me I had it sent express mail.” I held the phone with one hand as I plugged my earphones in, so I could keep decorating the living room.

“Claire you sound busy should I call you later?”

“No uh, I’ve just been reading the journal that you gave me a while back to know more beforehand when I go on hunts.” she flipped through to the next page as she responded.

“Okay I thought you were in the middle of one I didn’t want to distract you” I was looking at color swatches for the living room.

It was still weird having a house, all I have ever known was stingy motel rooms and the back of the Impala, so to have a place to call home is still nerve wracking but since moving in I’ve had a lot of things going on. There’s been me going to classes and working but also the occasional hunt.

Claire has been sending me things that she finds in Bobby’s bunker whenever she goes there to look for more research. And with those things I’ve been making the house feel less empty and more like as if I’ve been here for years. I think Bobby would have loved this place.

“Hey so Sam Just texted me and said there’s a hunt near them that he thinks I should be able to handle. Should I take it?” Claire got me out of my thoughts with that.

“Did he say what type of hunt it was?”

“Something about a salt and burn not much detail said he would tell me more in a bit.” She shrugged.

“Well if it’s a salt and burn then you’re more than capable of handling it”

“You really think that Y/N?” she seemed unsure.

“Of course, I do I’ve seen you hunt, plus salt and burns are quick if you have all the information.”

“Thanks well I’m gonna go pack and head there I’ll text you when I make it to the town, see you in a few weeks!” she excitedly ended the conversation.

“Take care Claire!” and I hung up and went back to putting the lore books in my new little library.

tagging's: @reigningqueenofwords @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @winchester-writes @winchesterenthusiast @georgialouisea @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog @dammit-brii @livelikeawinchester @sammysbuttcheek @bran2015 @misz-adrii @sandlee44 @womanxofletters @natsuccs @childishhoebinoo  @depressed-moose-78 @oldfreakything @expecteddifferent @girl-next-door-writes @fanaticfanfiction @dakotapaigelove @sassy-spn-knight-of-hell

#winchesters x sister!reader #crowley #Claire x friend!reader #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #dan #Long Gone

[lianordin]

The best smartphones, tablets and smartwatches for students

Amazon Kindle Paperwhite (2018)

What sounds better: lugging around a backpack full of books or toting a sleek e-reader to class? The answer is clearly the latter, and Amazon’s latest Kindle Paperwhite is still one of the finest ways to access loads of books in one place. It’s slightly slimmer than the model it replaces, the screen’s lighting is more even, it comes with even more storage (8GB, up from 4GB) and it’s fully waterproof. There might not be a more convenient way to blow through all that Chaucer you were just assigned.

Admittedly, though, Kindles are less than ideal in certain ways. For one, not all Kindle books have page numbers that correspond to written copies, and lit majors won’t have much luck downloading Norton Critical Editions. That said, these devices make for a pleasant reading experience; that’s nothing to sneeze at when your list of required books starts piling up. — Chris Velazco, Senior Mobile Editor

Buy Kindle Paperwhite on Amazon – $130

Apple iPad Air (2019)

Some people swear by the iPad Pro for note-taking, and thankfully, Apple took just about everything that made the tablet ideal for schoolwork and transplanted it into a more affordable package. This is the first iPad Air that Apple has made in three years, and the wait was worth it: The new Air shares a processor with last year’s iPhone XS and is compatible with Apple’s Pencil and Smart Keyboard accessories. Because of the way the tablet market has been shrinking, you’d also be hard-pressed to find a device with a 10.5-inch screen that looks as good as this one.

More importantly, the Air is going to get better with time. We already know that iPadOS packs significant enhancements to performance and multitasking, but new additions — like the ability to save and manage files directly on the tablet — mean the iPad Air will be better-suited for getting work done. Sure, it might not replace your standard laptop for everything you’ll need at school, but since it handles work and play equally well, it’s a valuable addition all the same. — C.V.

Buy iPad Air (2019) – $499+

Apple Watch Series 4

The Apple Watch has come a long way since its debut in 2015. And with the Series 4, Apple made its wearable even better than the previous model, thanks to a bigger, edge-to-edge screen; longer battery life; more-accurate step-tracking; and an electrocardiogram test that can detect an irregular heartbeat. That’s in addition to being water-resistant and working with thousands of popular apps out of the box, which is what makes the Series 4 a well-rounded package.

The Apple Watch Series 4 starts at $399 for the GPS-only, 40mm model or $429 if you want the bigger 44mm screen. Meanwhile, the LTE version, which lets you make calls from the Watch without a paired iPhone nearby, costs $100 more. If you already have an iPhone, though, your best option may be the GPS edition, since you can still make calls from your wearable as long as your smartphone is within range. — Edgar Alvarez, Senior Editor

Buy Apple Watch Series 4 on Amazon – $349+

Google Pixel 3a

The original Pixel 3 and 3 XL were nice enough in their own right, but the newer, cheaper Pixel 3a proved Google could make excellent phones on the cheap. $400 gets you one of the best smartphone cameras on the market right now, not to mention years of big software and security updates and some of the best battery life we’ve ever seen out of a Google device. Play your cards right — by which we mean don’t drop it in a beer — and the 3a could easily get you through the next few years of academia. — C.V.

Buy Pixel 3a – $399

Fitbit Versa

This Apple Watch lookalike is actually quite pretty in its own right, especially if you get it with a rose gold case and lilac strap. But looks aside, the Fitbit Versa is also a powerful fitness-tracking smartwatch that’s ideal for those who care more about their workouts than being able to reply to messages from their wrist. You can track a variety of activities, including swimming, and refer to the Versa’s built-in workout guides if you need some inspiration at the gym.

If you really need to save $30, consider the Fitbit Versa Lite, which does most of the same stuff but lacks a gyroscope to count laps in the pool, an altimeter to detect flights climbed, not to mention WiFi, music storage and on-screen tutorials. That’s why, if you have the funds, we strongly suggest the Versa instead. — Cherlynn Low, Reviews Editor

Buy Fitbit Versa on Amazon – $179.95

Mophie Powerstation XL

If you’re carrying multiple gadgets to and from class, it’s a near certainty that at least one of them will run low on battery during the process. That’s where Mophie’s updated PowerStation XL comes in. It doesn’t weigh much more than a standard paperback, so it won’t put any undue strain on your back, but its 15,000mAh battery means you can charge whatever you’ve brought with you several times over. You can even charge multiple devices at the same time, assuming that at least one of them uses USB-C cables to draw power. This year’s models come clad in surprisingly nice fabric too, so this most utilitarian of gadgets now feels a touch more stylish to boot. — C.V.

Buy Powerstation XL on Amazon – $69.95

Oculus Quest

Just because you’re on a tight school budget doesn’t mean you have to forego quality VR. At $399, Oculus’ Quest headset is an affordable way to get into virtual reality while preserving many of the features that make the technology so great. You still have six-degree freedom of movement and full-featured controllers, but you won’t have to buy a powerful PC. There aren’t any wires to trip you up either. And when you can both watch videos as well as play hot VR titles like Beat Saber and Vader Immortal, it offers plenty of ways to tune out your roommates. — Jon Fingas, Contributing Editor

Buy Oculus Quest on Amazon – $399

OnePlus 7 Pro

You don’t have to give up dreams of owning a top-tier smartphone when you’re scrimping and saving for tuition. The OnePlus 7 Pro may be more expensive than past OnePlus devices, but it still delivers flagship-worthy smartphone features for hundreds of dollars less than other premium devices. Its giant, responsive screen is a treat for watching videos in between classes, and its speedy performance ensures that you can juggle all the chats for your next big party. While the camera isn’t spectacular, it’s more than fine for the price — and the rest of the phone is done so well that you probably won’t mind. — J.F.

Buy OnePlus 7 – $669+

Samsung Galaxy Watch Active

You’ll be pleasantly surprised by how much better Samsung’s wearables are at tracking your activity than Fitbits and Wear OS watches. The Galaxy Watch Active is Samsung’s most affordable smartwatch, and it’s proactive about reminding you to get up and move when you’ve been idle for an hour. By calculating your heart rate variance, the Watch Active can also gauge your stress levels to tell you to take a breather — a useful feature when midterms roll around.

In addition, the device tracks your sleep, lets you dictate or type out email and text replies, and has a no-frills aesthetic that will blend with most outfits. It can even act as a remote control for your presentation so you can advance to the next slide by swiping your watch face. Plus, it lasts two to three days on a charge, which means you’ll still be able to track your morning run if you stayed out all night. Those with bigger budgets should go for the $330 Galaxy Watch, which features a useful rotating bezel that makes navigating the Tizen OS interface easier and more precise. That watch also has a bigger face and lasts longer. It has a more masculine look, though, so if you want something more neutral you’re better off sticking with the Watch Active. — C.L.

Buy Watch Active on Amazon – $179+

Skagen Falster 2

Don’t discount Wear OS watches yet. With a user-friendly activity-tracking interface, compatibility with a ton of apps and the powerful Assistant baked in, Google’s wearable platform is useful for those looking for convenience who don’t need a lot of frills. The best thing about this ecosystem is the vast amount of options available, so you can pick one from your favorite luxury brand or simply go with the prettiest.

In our humble opinion, the Skagen Falster 2 is the most attractive, thanks to its clean, minimalist design. It’s also impressively light and comfortable yet water-resistant enough that you can take it for a lap or two in your pool. One thing to note though: Most Wear OS watches available last about a day, regardless of the chipset they use, so maybe get a bedside charging stand too. — C.L.

Buy Skagen Falster 2 on Amazon – $275

In this article: amazon, apple, applewatchseries4, bts2019, facebook, falster2, fitbit versa lite, fitbitversa, galaxy watch active, gear, google, ipad air 2019, mobile, mophie, oculus, oculus quest, oneplus, OnePlus 7 Pro, pixel 3a, powerstationxl, samsung, skagen, skagenfalster2, thebuyersguide

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[genderfluidgothwitch]

I challenge you to do the whole fruit ask list B)

Oh geez lol. I had to pull out my laptop for this one. Let’s do this thing!

peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos?

I have two piercings in each ear, just like the normal ones in the earlobe. I want to get tattoos, but they cost lots of money that I don’t have.

raspberry: favorite flower?

I have a strange fondness for tiger lilies. I think it’s because they grow wild near my house and it’s one of the few naturally orange flowers in the north east. Orange was my favorite color when I was younger.

lemon: do you have any pets? what are their names?

Oh boy oh boy oh boy I have a pit bull/ German shepherd mix rescue dog names Tsula (pronounced soo-lah), and three shorthair cats, Maya (who is exclusively mine, she’s all black, down to her nose and toe beans), Sweet Pea (Maya’s mother, calico, and a fat asshole), and Battle Cat (the skinniest little pain in the butt who loves head skritches and everyone who had ever met him)

mango: what is your trademark?

My trademark? As in what do I wear or do all of the time? Well, I’m a sarcastic little asshole, jot that down. I’m also unapologetically me. I hold my morals, I keep to myself, and I love who I love without fear.

passion fruit: how would you describe your style?

Soft Grunge Emo with a side of Whatever the Fuck is Comfortable.

pineapple: sexual orientation?

Pansexual. Or as I call it, “Everybody’s hot can I fuck you all?”

strawberry: favorite desserts?

Reese’s peanut butter cups or chocolate ice cream with crushed oreos (like half a package of crushed oreos) on top. Also my friend Glenn’s cookies and my friend Nick’s strawberry shortcake. Nothing compares. 

cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing?

Hell yeah! I play guitar (not that I’ve had much time to play lately, sadly) and I sing a whole bunch. I’ll sing to myself mostly, but I also sing to my friend’s siblings and to the kids I babysit. I kind of have a thing where I “give” the kids a song that I sing for them. This two year old I babysit claimed “How Long” by the Eagles when I sang it quietly so she would nap. It was pretty cute, considering the kids only listen to classical music when their mother is around. 

grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world, where would you go?

I want to visit my friend in all the corners of the world. I also want to go to Great Britain again, or camping somewhere where I could go stargazing, preferably when there’s also a meteor shower happening. 

banana: favorite horror movies?

Well, I’m not sure if this really counts, but I love Repo! The Genetic Opera and The Devil’s Carnival. I need to rewatch both. I also like Oculus. Trouble is, I haven’t watched a lot of horror movies. I love them, but I don’t like watching them alone. I also tend to point out scientific inaccuracies so people don’t want to watch them with me. It’s quite the conundrum. Also, I will NEVER see IT. Clowns creep me out. I do really enjoy American Horror Story though (I know it’s TV but still).

blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or drama?

My live is a shitty B movie that no one watches, are you kidding me? 

pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident?

Ha ha ha ha what the fuck is confidence? I guess it would be when my professors make note of how good my writing is. I had this one amazing guy for creative writing last semester, so I took his studies in young adult fiction class this semester. I got an A+ on my midterm because of a really well written essay (don’t know how that happened), as well as an A on a paper I almost completely bullshitted the night before it was due. He actually read a portion out loud to the class because I worded something about maturity very well (heh, I based it on my real life experiences). He’s always complimenting me, and keeps asking how my book is going (terribly, lol). So I guess I feel most confident when people compliment my work, not me.

cantaloupe: what are your parents' names?

I feel like this is really awkward personal information and they wouldn’t want me sharing it on the interwebs... They both start with D, though. 

guava: dark & dramatic makeup or natural makeup?

Hella dark and dramatic. Remember that whole “Soft Grunge Emo” thing? Yeah. I lay that eyeliner on fierce. 

tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, which would you be?

A merman or a centaur. I dig the freedom, and the idea of being a mermaid has always been appealing to me. But could I be a wizard? Is that a mythical creature, even if it’s also human?

plum: favorite clothing brands?

I... I buy my clothes from walmart or I get a shit ton of hand me downs... Or I go to goodwill... Like I don’t have a clue what brands I like. “Comfy”. There we go.

coconut: favorite perfume?

I don’t wear perfume so I will replace this with my favorite candle scents: woodsy or beach-y. I also like stuff that smells like that fresh rain scent.

lychee: satin or lace?

Both. Although I do lean more towards lace. 

blueberry: what do you want to dress up as for halloween?

I’m probably gonna wear my Deadpool onesie not gonna lie. I also have a Rapunzel dress I made in high school, as well as a red velvet cape. So I don’t know. I’m not big on dressing up. 

apple: what do you use more, tumblr or twitter?

Tumblr. I can’t escape the hellsite. I had a twitter for like... three months and I only tweeted like a dozen times. One of my friends from high school manages to find my account and I’m very concerned because I made sure not to talk to most of my graduating class. But anyways I stopped using it ages ago. I really only followed comedians on it.

kiwi: what's something that fascinates you?

People. I hate them, at least, most of them, but they fascinate me. However I refuse to become an anthropologist. I am hoping to be a medical type person, ideally a doctor. I’m basically Dr. House. 

watermelon: do you have a job? if so, what is your job title?

I’m a freaking cashier at a grocery store chain in the north east. That’s my job title.

papaya: what song describes your aesthetic?

I’m not really sure. My aesthetic is so jumbled, and I listen mostly to classic rock music, so the two don’t really coincide much. 

cranberry: favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

Night, by far. It’s peaceful then.

nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person?

Yes and no. I feel very strongly when I do feel. Trouble is, most of the time, I don’t feel. 

orange: do you have long eyelashes?

Nope. 

apricot: what do you do when you're sad?

Cry. Listen to music. Talk to my best friend. I think he wishes I would talk to other people sometimes lol. But mostly I keep to myself. 

star fruit: favorite sea creature?

Octopi. I love their intelligent natures. 

dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol?

Yep. I go for IPAs and vodka. Probably vodka more than beer now, but I’ll take what I can get. 

Thank’s for this! It was really fun to answer. 

[thebuckblogimo]

Call me crazy, but I’m a fan of the USPS.

March 5, 2019

I hear a lot of people rag on the post office. I’ve been hearing it for years. But I go back to the days when you could mail a postcard for three cents, and I can’t think of a single time when the Postal Service lost something of mine. Not any of the letters I sent to buddies in Vietnam. Not a single check I ever put in the mail.

Heck, when I was in college and sent letters to my folks back home or pals at other schools, I sometimes placed the stamp in the upper left corner of the envelope instead of the upper right, or somewhere on the back, just to see if they’d get where I intended them to go. They always did.

During my working years I spent a lot of time creating direct marketing materials. Not junk mail. I’m talking nice, tastefully designed stuff featuring special offers that could be tracked and measured for effectiveness. I recall a time that we sent several million mail packages for a Chrysler “Private Invitation Sale” and how the account person on the project snapped a photo of the railroad cars housing them to demonstrate the enormity of the project. Other than the pieces that were returned due to “change of address,” the Postal Service delivered it all without a hitch.

At its peak in the early 2000s, the USPS handled over 100 million pieces of first-class mail a year. But those numbers have been declining ever since e-mail, texts, social media, etc. began to displace “snail mail.” Now, of course, the personal letter, my all-time-favorite mode of one-to-one communication, is an endangered species. Last year, the post office delivered less than 59 million pieces of first-class mail.

Call me crazy, but I’ve always enjoyed just visiting the post office.

Toward the end of my working years when an art-director friend and I launched our own, little communications company, I made regular trips to the post office in Royal Oak during lunch time to mail CDs, books and other packages requiring the purchase of postage. For me, it was always cheap entertainment.

I’d stand in line, waiting my turn, and simply people watch. In came middle-class soccer moms. Hipsters in too tight suits. Street types who sometimes talked to themselves. Young black professionals. Old folks sending gifts to their grand kids. Small business owners with canvas bags full of outgoing mail. After I did my thing at the counter, I’d run off to a restaurant down the street or to a unique shop. It may sound strange, but I always felt connected to the community on those trips to the post office.

Question: Do you personally know the letter carrier who delivers mail to your home?

I and practically every person in my Grand Haven neighborhood know ours. He does far more than just deliver the mail. He functions as our “eyes and ears” on the street, letting us know if something isn’t right. He often advises us on how to solve our car, motorcycle and lawnmower problems. He’s a craft beer connoisseur who tips me off to the latest brews at the local pubs. And he even steered me to the best place in Grand Rapids for the Spartan head I had tattooed to my derriere. I call him the “answer man.”

Yes, the post office loses billions of dollars in most years. It hasn’t made a profit in over a decade, due mostly to the loss of revenue from the fall-off in first-class mail and a government mandate to prefund the pension and health care benefits of postal employees. But I know this: The USPS successfully delivers mail to the depths of the Grand Canyon and to the most rugged outposts of Alaska (not to mention Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands). And that it’s always done right by me.

[always-another-story-blog]

Short Story: Four Sugars at 3AM

FOUR SUGARS AT THREE AM? The night was peaceful, not dead, not silent; peaceful. The usual kind of city noise and typical dormitory disturbances seemed to be taking a holiday. For London it might as well be dead. There was no traffic, no drunken businessmen loudly lamenting their pitiful jobs, no barely legal club hoppers singing off key power ballads as they staggered home. There wasn’t even the usual noise inside the building. The seven story student hall was co-ed and lax on rules, most likely having given up on enforcing them if the usual ruckus was anything to go by. Normally someone would be cooking something unnecessarily abstract and breaking plates in the process, or having a passionate, and probably tipsy, philosophical debate over something they probably had no view on but thought they should. Nobody’s TV was turned up too high, no one was blasting music from their iPod decks, having impossibly loud sex or a pointless lover’s quarrel. There wasn’t even anyone making a late night trip to the bathroom after one too many beers. It was the most peaceful night since the beginning of the semester and was probably worthy of being noted as some kind of world record. So, Lexi thought dully, why am I still awake? It was the perfect night to fall into a deep, undisturbed sleep, and yet here she was, lying on her back, arms folded over her chest, hair spread out over her pillow, staring at the ceiling, probably, she thought, looking like a grumpy vampire from a seventies horror movie. She had class at ten, and work from five in the evening, she needed the sleep or she’d price gun some hapless customer of the Tesco Express she worked in to death. That would be an interesting cause of death. With a defeated sigh she shook away all thoughts of price gun related fatalities and sat up in the dark, irritably throwing aside the duvet and swinging her legs to the floor. She shuddered as she did so. Wall to wall carpeting, or rather carpet tiling. Its only separation from kitchen tiles being that it had the kind of scratchy-fuzzy quality that dermatologists probably had nightmares about. Or wet dreams depending on their perspective. And their sense of ethics. Why don’t I own a pair of slippers? She thought aimlessly as she leant down and groped in the dark for a pair of pumps to wear instead. It was March, shivering weather, and unusually brisk this year, so why she even had these rubber soled canvas things outside her closet was anyone’s guess, but in a pinch they made okay slipper replacements. Sliding them onto her feet she then sat back up and reached for the knee length cardigan she’d thrown over the back of her desk chair before going to bed and stood up, pulling it on clumsily as she made her way to the door, which she then walked into, having completely misjudged the distance between it and her bed. Taking a deep breath she turned and edged back to her bed. From the table beside it she retrieved her glasses and re-attempted the trip to the door, this time without blunt force trauma to the nose. The light in the hallway was still on for some reason so at the very least she knew she wouldn’t walk into someone else’s door or anything. In the building Lexi lived in each floor shared a large kitchen and shower rooms between ten residents. The rooms included a toilet and sink so at the very least people could brush their teeth in the morning without having to awkwardly avoid making eye contact with someone’s towel covered crotch in the mirror. At this time of night sometimes Lexi would hear someone taking advantage of the late hour to use the shower rooms while no one else was around. Since it was the second semester they were all at the very least accustomed to each others’ routines. Sort of. In the kitchen Lexi groped for the light switch and squinted as the fluorescent tube on the ceiling flickered to life. Somehow the only thing that seemed like a reasonable solution to insomnia right now, in Lexi’s mind anyway, was a hot beverage. Hot chocolate usually did the trick, while pleasantly and warmly reminding her of childhood nights when her mother would make her hot chocolate in a mug with cartoon red and white mushrooms all over it, and sit beside her on the couch, stroking her hair while she drank it. The two of them would watch whatever Discovery Channel special her mother was currently engrossed in until Lexi fell asleep against her mother’s side. Obviously right now, recreating the scene exactly was out of the question. The freeview box in the flat didn’t receive the Discovery Channel. Opening the drinks cupboard Lexi sighed again. She rummaged for a moment, even searching other cupboards before being forced to come to the conclusion that there was no hot chocolate in the kitchen. She could have sworn she had bought two new tubs of Options Caribbean Coconut just the week before. Then again, five of the other nine members of her flat were female and all stereotypically addicted to anything even remotely chocolate related. Even a couple of the guys couldn’t say no to a mug of Options if she offered. Lexi closed the cupboard, trying extra hard not to slam it in frustration. It was a rare quiet night after all, no need to mar it just because she wasn’t reaping all the benefits. It became much harder not to slam doors when she decided to compromise with tea instead – after all a hot beverage is a hot beverage – when she realised that they were also completely out of teabags. Although some saintly soul had decided to leave the empty packet in there just to taunt her anyway. She glanced only very briefly at the jar of coffee, the type of cheap, over-roasted swill that might make a barista cry. She was sleep deprived already; she wasn’t nearly masochistic enough to drink coffee at…what time was it anyway? She pushed back the sleeve of her cardigan to look at her watch. 2:56 Of course. Goodbye healthy eight hours, I’ll remember you fondly, she thought bitterly. She could feel herself getting irritated, that prickly feeling that made her hands clench of their own accord. Taking a deep breath she closed the cupboard door, carefully, and turned to lean on the kitchen counter. No hot chocolate, no tea, and she refused to drink warm milk, it had always turned her stomach when someone gave it to her in her childhood, and so she’d steered clear of the stuff for the past thirteen years or so. The only option left was to go down to the basement and get something from the hot drink vending machine. She was pretty sure that had hot chocolate. It wasn’t Options but it was warm and vaguely chocolate flavoured. It was settled then, to the common room she would go. The building had a set of rooms and facilities on each floor, including the ground floor, so the common room and laundry room were in the basement. The common room consisted of uncomfortable and ugly chairs that were asymmetrically shaped and fit together to form a makeshift couch if you put them together in the right technicolour order. Along with that there was a TV mounted on the wall with a DVD player, outlets for laptop plugs, presumably, and three vending machines; one for snacks, and two for drinks; one hot and one cold. Taking another deep breath Lexi returned to her room to fish some change out of her purse and headed first for the lift, then, deciding the stairs might make her more tired, made a beeline for the stairwell. From the sixth floor she descended twelve half flights, feeling mildly dizzy at the slightly spiral-like motion required to use the stairs. On the ground floor she ignored the security guard’s desk, seeing as there was no security guard to ignore. Where he was she neither knew nor cared. The ground floor of the building had the same setup as the rest of the floor except for a reception desk that doubled as a guard station at night and another set of stairs, carpeted in the same scratchy tile, behind a door to the right that led down to the common room and laundry rooms. At the bottom of the stairs Lexi turned right, away from the humid laundry room and down a short corridor to the common room door, the long window in which was completely plastered over with posters and fliers for various events and live shows. Pushing open the heavy door Lexi’s eyes went straight to the right hand wall that ran adjacent to the door. Directly opposite the door, at the other end of the wall that ran roughly the length of a badminton court was the room’s only window. Being in a basement room it wasn’t a real window, but a backlit panel with a blown up photograph of some miscellaneous countryside pasted over it. During the day the light was turned on and it almost looked like a view from a real window. Almost. If you ignored the peeling edges of the ‘view’. Sometime in the evening heavy curtains were drawn over it. Usually by one of the receptionists, the students sure as hell didn’t care. On the right hand wall between the door and the fake window were the three vending machines that most likely kept some people in the building alive until their next pay check or ‘care package’ from home. Lexi would be lying if she said she’d never experienced the vending machine diet for a week or so at least once in the time she had been living in this building. The high number of people using the machines probably accounted for their faded, weathered appearance. The whole room had kind of a ‘brown’ feel to it. The carpet, at one time or another, had clearly been some kind of purple, if the tiny areas in the corners and beneath the vending machines were any indication. But years of heavy traffic flow and less than clean trainers had turned the thin carpet pile a wet sandy brown colour. The walls were probably cream once too, but now they too were brown, a yellowish brown that reminded Lexi of ageing parchment. She suspected a disregard for the ‘no smoking’ rule was at least partially to blame for the change in hue. The ceiling had had a similar fate to the wallpaper, and even the ‘colourful’ asymmetric chairs had a brown tinge to them, laid over their bright reds and greens and blues and yellows like tracing paper. Wanting to waste no more time Lexi made a beeline for the hot drinks machine, her eyes set on the button the size of a business card with a mug of hot chocolate on it. This was probably why she was so startled when a voice penetrated the dusty air, a hand landing on her shoulder at the same time. With a hoarse squeak she flinched away from the hand and spun to meet her assailant. If she weren’t in such a downtrodden mood she could have howled with laughter at herself for even beginning to think of the word ‘assailant’. Instead of some buff body builder type with a scraggly beard and beer stained wife beater she was met with the sight of a guy maybe a few inches taller than her, skinnier than his t-shirt seemed to think, wearing faded jeans and a black and white hoodie with worn out sneakers, his dark hair falling over his head in the kind of haphazard way that made Lexi suspect it actually took a surprising amount of effort. In the same moment she realised two things. First, the guy was one of her flatmates. He was one of the guys who would always happily accept if she offered hot chocolate to anyone who happened to be in the kitchen at the time. If she remembered correctly he was an exchange student from somewhere in Asia, either Japan or Korea, but had spent part of his childhood in America, so she had no idea why his parents had sent him to England to study English since he could already speak it. Second, he was holding a guitar. She did recall him mentioning something before about also studying music. The guy blinked at her for a second, and realising she was still cowering slightly Lexi relaxed her stance and ran a hand through her bedraggled hair. Her hand froze suddenly and she glanced briefly down at herself. From toe to top, slip on canvas pumps that were a weird shade of pale dirty yellow. They had once been a pretty cream or something, but getting caught in summer rain while wearing them had messed them up quite badly. A pair of faded navy drawstring pyjama bottoms that were actually just this side of too small and ended at her knee. If memory served she’d had them since she was seventeen, apparently nowhere in the last three years had she seen fit to get rid of or replace them. A baby blue t-shirt with the words ‘sleep on it’ in faded and peeling black letters, under which she now realised, was no bra. A hooded cardigan that came almost to the backs of her knees. Messy wavy auburn hair, with random strands sticking up around her head. No makeup and nothing to hide the dark circles under her eyes besides her glasses. After a moment of wondering whether she should be agonising over her appearance in front of an attractive guy she decided she was too tired, and in no mood, to care. The guy cocked his head to one side, studying her face with intense black eyes. No way, Lexi thought, people can’t have black eyes, they must be brown…but they’re so dark. “Lexi, right?” he said suddenly. She blinked in mild surprise. “Uh, right, um…” she thought for a second, she knew he had a name he used in England as it was easier to remember , and spell for that matter…what was it again. Ah! “Alex, right?” by his wide smile she gather she had remembered correctly. “Yeah,” she smiled back, wondering what he was doing down here, but before she could ask he beat her to it. “What brings you down here so late?” he asked, in English so perfect she wondered once again why his parents thought he needed to study more. It actually took her a moment to think of a response. To her tired mind her reason for being down here was obvious. “Oh,” she gestured vaguely to the vending machines “drink,” Alex raised one eyebrow, one hand resting on the body of his guitar, close to his hip, the other resting in his front pocket. Lexi had a brief, slightly bitter thought that he shouldn’t be allowed to look so together and awake and presentable at three am, when she herself looked exactly how she felt; tired, rumpled and slightly irritable. “There’s nothing in the kitchen?” Alex asked incredulously. Now it was Lexi’s turn to raise her eyebrow. She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a pointed look. “Well, since I couldn’t sleep I decided to get some hot chocolate, but someone used it all up, all that’s left is coffee,” Alex had the good grace to look a little apologetic, or was that just sympathetic? “Ah, I see,” “What are you doing down here so late?” Lexi asked, moving toward the vending machine. “We practice down here at night sometimes,” he replied. We? Lexi stopped and turned and finally realised that all the way across the room three other guys, along with a drum kit, a bass and another guitar. Wow, she really must have been sleep deprived not to have noticed them already. Noticing her gaze they looked up and waved to her with pleasant smiles. Lexi looked back at Alex. “You guys practice down here? How often?” he shrugged. “A few times a week, usually whenever we don’t have morning classes the next day,” Lexi frowned and resumed her journey to the vending machine. “I wonder why I’ve never heard you,” she muttered. Alex leaned against the front panel of the cold drinks machine, watching her fish in her cardigan pocket for change and folded his arms, resting them lightly on his guitar. “We don’t use amps very often or we’d probably get yelled at, and I doubt you could hear us all the way up on the sixth floor, this room is surprisingly soundproof,” Lexi nodded absent-mindedly as she slotted in her money and jabbed the hot chocolate button with her index finger. A little red light flashed beside the button and a scrolling message on the little screen told her it was all out of a hot chocolate. A quick scan of the rest of the buttons revealed that this was the one and only option for hot chocolate. With a shaky sigh Lexi leaned her head against the machine, it was slightly warm. She concentrated on this while she tried not to get annoyed. She took a deep breath and leaned back. Alex peered at the screen. “Wow, no hot chocolate here either, it must be a conspiracy or something,” he said with a playful smirk. Lexi gave a small defeated half-laugh and scanned the buttons for black tea and conceded to the compromise, jabbing at that button instead. While she waited for the cardboard cup to fill she turned back to Alex. “Okay, so you guys practice down here, do you ever give performances anywhere?” Alex averted his eyes, raising a hand sheepishly to the back of his head. “Not…not yet, we want to build up a good collection of our own songs first, we’ve only been practicing together since the end of last semester so we’re hoping to start performing this summer,” Lexi nodded understandingly. A small insistent beep sounded from the machine, informing her that her tea was ready. Sliding the cup carefully out of the machine she set it on the table to her left and grabbed four of the small sugar packets sitting in a small green plastic tray and ripped them all open at one before tipping them into her drink and taking a wooden stirrer from another cardboard cup beside the sugars. Alex watched all this was a slightly surprised expression. “Four?” he asked. She glanced up at him. “Huh?” “Four sugars? At 3am?” She smiled ruefully. “These packets are so small you have to use twice as many as you normally would, and even then it’s not quite the same,” Alex nodded slowly, like she was teaching him quantum physics and he still couldn’t get his head around it. Gingerly picking up the hot cup and cradling it in her hands, which she pulled her cardigan sleeves over, she turned and looked at the rest of the band, who seemed to just be getting done tuning their instruments. “You guys any good?” she asked, glancing at Alex with a playful smirk of her own. What are you doing, she asked herself, why are you striking up a conversation instead of going back to bed? Alex caught her smirk and grinned, pushing off the vending machine and lacing his fingers together behind his head, putting on a disinterested expression. “Pretty good if I do say so myself,” Lexi had to laugh a little at his command of English colloquialisms. She gave him a mock nonchalant expression of her own. “Oh? You think so?” “I know so,” he shot back. The other guitarist glanced up from the strings he was tuning and smirked across at his friend. “Really? How can you be sure if you’ve never performed for anyone before?” Alex shrugged nonchalantly and began to slowly wend his way back towards the rest of the band. Lexi was saved from making the decision of whether or not to follow him when the bassist currently perched on a faded and coffee stained yellow chair looked up properly from his instrument and addressed her directly. “Alex has such a good ear for music he can’t possibly be wrong,” he said, shooting his friend a teasing look. Alex rolled his eyes. Lexi shrugged and raised her cardboard cup, encased in both cardigan sleeve covered hands, to her mouth. Feeling on the brink of being scolded just by the steam alone she simply blew on the tea and lowered the cup again. “I guess if you practice in here all the time people must hear you then. If you were terrible they’d probably say something, or at least give you dirty looks,” she said. Alex, to her mild surprise, stuck his tongue out at her briefly, before returning to checking his strings. The other guitarist glanced up with a confused frown. “Huh, what’s dirty?” he asked. Lexi blinked for a second, and then giggled. “Nothing, sorry,” she said, waving it off. The bassist leaned over and lightly shoved his friend’s shoulder. “We covered colloquialisms months ago Tom,” he said. Lexi couldn’t stop being impressed by the command of English these guys had. Seriously, how much time had they really spent over seas? She knew Alex had spent a good chunk of his childhood in America, there was a very slight New York accent to his English. “I don’t get it though, you said dirty right?” “Dirty look,” Lexi explained “like, looking at someone in a bad way or something, if people didn’t like the way you sounded they’d look at you funny,” the guitarist nodded slowly. “Except no-one ever comes in here when we’re practicing, not usually anyway,” the bass player said. Lexi averted her eyes, all of a sudden feeling mighty superfluous. Noticing her look the bassist turned to her and smiled again. “I’m Zeke by the way, kid on the drums is Seb,” Lexi grinned and gave the drummer a wave. “Lexi,” Lexi wondered absently why she had never really talked to these guys before. At some time or another she was sure she must have seen them on her floor with Alex, and she thought she recalled hearing that Alex and his friends took some kind of Applied Music course. Glancing down at her steaming drink and then back up she realised Alex seemed to have fallen into thought. Suddenly he smiled like he’d figured out the solution to unemployment in East London and held his guitar out to Tom. “Here, hold this a sec,” Tom barely looked up. “Huh?” Zeke sniggered. “Your listening skills are terrible after midnight,” he muttered, provoking Tom to glare at him from beneath his fringe. Alex rolled his eyes again and nudged Tom with his guitar. “Yah, Igeol gajigo itge,” Lexi blinked at the sudden language change. She was just wondering aimlessly what he had said when, once Tom had sheepishly taken the guitar, Alex leant down, bracing his hands on the edge of a green chair that was oval shaped and dipped slightly in the middle from years of people dropping heavily onto it, probably while laden with books. Before Lexi could ask what he thought he was doing he had pushed the chair over from where it had been sitting to a point maybe five feet in front of the band’s setup. Lexi blinked owlishly behind her glasses, completely confused. Glancing at the other three didn’t help, Zeke looked like he was slowly catching on, Seb had his head cocked to one side, his expression unreadable and Tom was barely paying attention. Settling the chair into position Alex then straightened up and turned to Lexi, planting his hands on her shoulders and guiding her to sit. She stared up at him blankly. “What are you doing?” “You can be our first audience!” he replied with a truly cheerful smile, leaving her slightly dazed and confused while he took his guitar back from Tom and sat on the once-blue chair beside him. Zeke settled back onto his yellow chair while Seb, an enthusiastic smile on his face, re-settled himself on the orange chair, the smallest in the room, behind his drum kit, re-gripping his drum sticks while he waited for the okay from the other three. Alex shot Lexi a grin and nodded to Tom and Zeke, who turned and nodded to Seb who twirled his drum sticks between his fingers before tapping out four beats and beginning to play, joined a split second later by the other three. For some reason, it had not previously occurred to Lexi that one of them would sing, so when Alex, his gaze soft on his guitar, began singing in a gentle, melodious voice she was taken aback. Not so much because he had started singing, but because his voice sounded so good, so perfect, it felt like taking a deep breath of fresh spring air, like feeling a cool breeze on your skin after a heat wave, it was such a refreshing sound, gentle, soft, yet strong and clear and undeniably beautiful. With the group’s flawless playing, their effortless harmony, the song they were playing couldn’t have sounded more perfect. A smile crept over Lexi’s features as she listened, the music seeping into her chest and warming her along with the tea, which she clasped, in its paper cup, near her throat in her sleeve-covered hands. As she song progressed Lexi felt herself begin to rock slightly from side to side with the beat, her head nodding slightly as she let herself be immersed in and carried away by the music, by Alex’s voice and the strangely picturesque view of the four of them, young foreign exchange students in a dingy cigarette stained basement common room of their university accommodation, playing their instruments as though they were merely extensions of their own bodies. As the song drew to a close and their playing tapered off and Alex let his voice dwindle into silence the four of them looked up at Lexi and smiled. Lexi was powerless to do anything but grin back, her cheeks almost aching from the width of her smile. Zeke raised one eyebrow cheekily at her. “So? Pretty perfect right?” he said, laughter dancing in his eyes. Lexi chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Not bad,” she quipped and it was Zeke’s turn to laugh. Alex rested his guitar against his chair and stood to approach her, hands in his pockets, attempting and failing to appear nonchalant. “D-Did you like it?” he asked slightly haltingly. His stutters could have passed for lack of confidence in the language, if not for the slight rose colour dusting his cheeks and the fact that Lexi could tell he was actually quite nervous to hear her response. She smiled and decided not to tease him. “I loved it!” the look of delight on Alex’s face at her response was indescribable. The other three grinned at each other in a mixture of delight and victory. Lexi suddenly looked at her watch and made a face. She’d forgotten how late - or early - it was, she’d forgotten about her lecture the next day, she’d forgotten sleep, it had all be replaced with the four boys’ music, but now it came rushing back and she sighed. Alex noticed her look and looked at his own watch and winced. “You have to get back to bed right?” he said, she nodded and looked up at him apologetically. Standing, she smiled at the other three again. “You guys are amazing, you have to let me know when you start performing, I’ll be there to cheer you on,” Zeke grinned and nudged Tom’s shoulder. “Hear that? We have our very first fan!” Tom laughed. “She can start a fan-club for us!” Zeke and Seb laughed from behind their instruments as Lexi rolled her eyes. She waved and bid them all goodnight before making a beeline for the door. After only a few steps she looked back and realised Alex was coming after her. He met her questioning gaze and averted his eyes. “I’ll walk you to the elevator,” he said. She smiled and nodded. Together they walked up the corridor, ascended the stairs and crossed the reception area, still devoid of a security guard, but Lexi no longer had room in her mind for that, it was full to the brim with music. She smiled at the memory as she pressed the button to call the lift, it was there within seconds and Lexi got in and pressed the button for the sixth floor. She looked up at Alex and held the ‘open’ button down with her right thumb for a moment as she looked out at him. He looked back at her and smiled, his hands still in his pockets. “Thank you,” she said. Alex blinked in surprise. “Eh? W-What for?” What indeed? Lexi wasn’t even sure herself. Improving her mood? Making her feel better? Entertaining her with such beautiful music? Playing for her when they’d never played for anyone before? “The song,” she said finally “I really enjoyed listening to you,” Alex smiled again, taking one hand out of his pocket to run through his hair. “Y-You’re welcome,” he said quietly. Lexi waved awkwardly to him with the hand still holding her tea. “See you,” she said, he waved back, repeating her words. “See you,” Lexi finally let go of the button and leaned back against the wall of the lift as the doors closed, sighing happily as the machine ascended. On the sixth floor there was no sound at all, nothing from any of the rooms or the kitchen, and the streets outside were still devoid of noise. The night held a quiet now permeated with the memory of the music in the basement. She would certainly sleep well now.

#original fiction #short story #four sugars at 3am

[fredericksmeg-blog]

Week 6? 7? Who knows!

An exciting 10 days in the UK!!

Monday, Feb. 13th On Monday, I slept past noon. I was absolutely cashed from the past two weekends in Barcelona and Paris (I know this is a privileged problem to have) so I spent the day recuperating. Oh, and typing a paper. Once I actually became a functioning human, I went to the grocery store to restock my food, and then I was up pretty later typing the better half of a paper for my media class.

Tuesday, Feb. 14th On good ol’ Valentine’s Day I got up and went to my BLC class. We walked about socioeconomic classes in the UK and its relationship with accents. We also got a briefing on our internship interviews, which were taking place that week. I went home for lunch and then walked back to our campus building for art class, where we all gave presentations on different exhibits that we visited around London for an ongoing project. We had about an hour left of class at the end so we went to the Victoria and Albert Museum and I was so hungry at this point I couldn’t even tell you what we saw. In media class, we talked about the British press. We sorted through different newspapers and tabloids and discussed each one in a little bit of detail.  It was pretty interesting, actually.

When I got home, I flopped around until Will could facetime me for our equivalent of a Valentine’s Day date, aka I was in my pajamas watching him do some homework and being sad that we aren’t together. We didn’t talk for too long but we made a plan to talk for longer later in the week.

Wednesday, Feb. 15th On Wednesday I attempted to get my life in order by uploading pictures from the weekend and starting to prep for our spring break trip to Italy. I did a run through for my internship interview: finding the place, seeing how long it’d take me to get there, etc. On my way back from there I walked almost the entire length of Oxford St. to grab some “outdoor” wear for the adventure weekend in Wales that was happening at the end of my spring break trip. I came home, made dinner, and then we did more Italy planning, booking hotels and buying train tickets and such. I went to bed soooo nervous for my interview the next day because I am a rambler and stress is not my best friend.

Thursday, Feb. 16th On Thursday I woke up really early because I was in the zone, basically. I had a nice breakfast and prepped for my interview, and even tried to look like a real human girl. I got to my interview reaaally early, so I read on a park bench for a little bit. When I got there, it took me a while to find the actual office because there are a few. I found it, though, and sat down for pizza and pasta and a beer (!) with my supervisor. It was super casual and we just talked about what I’m studying and how the market operates. I’m working on their general admin team and hopefully working with their community manager on some projects that benefit the neighborhood, which is struggling a little! I felt really good about the whole thing.

From there I zipped back to Kensington to go to the class that my interview had been scheduled during. I think we just talked about press issues, like #fakenews. I genuinely have no idea what I did after class. I’m pretty sure I ate and took care of travel related things. Later I facetimed Will for a pretty long time which was nice.

Friday, Feb. 17th On Friday I had my first little explore in London for weeks (since I’d been traveling on most Fridays). Bri, Natalie and I went to the Wallace Collection in Marylebone, mostly to see Natalie’s favorite painting, “The Swing” aka that painting from Frozen with the big skirt. We walked to an area near Paddington station called “Little Venice” that Bri found out about. It was cute, but also really small. We stopped into a café on a little boat. It was cute. I had some soup. From there we went to Primrose Hill to spot some dogs and watch the sun set. We bought some Jaffa cakes and I ate a whole sleeve and I do not have any regrets. We actually ran into a million other people from our building on the hill, go figure. Then we headed back to HPG to eat dinner and get changed! On the way back I picked up a Valentine’s Day package from Will and I sat on the floor in a puddle of my own tears reading the little note he sent me. Will is too good. He is a good boyfriend and a good friend and it’s really hard to be good at both of those things at the same time. 

After dinner Bri and I headed over to Shoreditch for a pub-crawl that apparently every UW student in London was attending. The pubs/bars weren’t anything special, but I had a really good time with my friends. Wow, cheesy I know. I even got to sprint through an empty King’s Cross Station (More importantly, I got to see the Platform 9 ¾ trolley without a line in front of it).

Saturday, Feb. 18th I slept late on Saturday because I could. I managed to type up a day-by-day itinerary of our spring break trip and figure out logistics like museum prices, food recommendations, etc. That took a really solid chunk of my day, but at the end of it I had nothing else to figure out for break and I felt really prepared. Bri, Natalie, and I were also planning to go to Cardiff (the capital of Wales) for the day on Sunday morning. So, we prepared a little bit for that and went to bed early, because we had to catch a bus in the morning.

Sunday Feb. 19th On Sunday, we went to the coach station and got on our bus to Cardiff. I fell asleep pretty much immediately. It’s amazing how good I’ve become at falling asleep in public over the last few months. It took us about 3 hours to get to Cardiff. When we got there, we took a walk through Sofia Gardens, which is where their bus stop is located, and checked out Cardiff castle before heading to the Pieminister (which is a wonderful, wonderful establishment that has a stand at Borough Market) for brunch pies! British food typically really sucks but wow, I have fallen in love with pies. Not fruit pies, like chicken potpies, but with other real hot foods and meat and mash in it. I think my pie was more of a quiche inside of a pie crust; nevertheless I was a huge fan. Then we bopped around central Cardiff, shopped a little, and then we decided to walk all the way to the bay. It was kind of funny because I recognized Cardiff Bay from episodes of Doctor Who, because the filming of the show is based there and they’ve used it as a location several times.

This is a perfect Segway because after that I parted ways with Natalie and Bri and went to the Doctor Who Experience. This was a totally given for me if I was visiting Cardiff. I don’t really keep up with the show anymore but it was a huge part of my life in high school so I enjoyed seeing the props and some sets at the tour. After that I met back up with Natalie and Bri, and we went to grab dinner at a restaurant that overlooked the bay. It was nice, and I had a nice beer. It was really relaxed and we just hung around for a while and got some food. After that we walked back to central Cardiff, and sat at a pub close to the bus stop until it was time to leave. Just a nice day out of the city really. Got to see some of Wales.

Monday Feb. 20th Monday was my last day of not having class all day, since after the break my schedule changes. I went to the British Library in the morning to see the Maps and the 20th Century exhibit, which I wanted to see before it closed because a) I love maps and b) I was presenting on it for a class project later in the semester. It was very cool and I had a great time. There were lots of war maps, and some original maps from J.R.R. Tolkien as he worked out the geography of middle earth.

After the library I went to a nearby café in Russell Square to work on my final presentation for media class. After that, I went to Covent Garden and after much deliberation, I bought a pair of Vans because my Nikes were dying. I also bought a carry-on suitcase because I brought my backpack here as a carry on, and I needed something bigger for break. Then I came home, ate dinner, and went to go do my laundry. Then I worked on my presentation for so long it was the worst.  But I finished it so it was fine.

Tuesday Feb. 21st On Tuesday, I had BLC in the morning and we walked around the British Museum, which marked the 4th time I had been there so far. My professor doesn’t think that the Parthenon Marbles are that great so I was a little displeased. Anyway we were only there for about an hour but I saw some stuff that I hadn’t before. I went home to eat lunch before I had to go back into central London for a trip to the Tate Modern with my art class. We saw Elton John’s photo collection, which is a ticketed exhibit there right now. It was interesting – it had the Migrant Mother depression era photo in it. On Tuesday night most of my media class gave their final presentations. I was at the end of the list, though, so I had to wait until Thursday. So I mentally checked out and coasted through the rest of that class, I won’t lie to you. 

Wednesday Feb. 22nd Wednesday was an action-packed day full of packing and prep. I woke up and ran to H&M to pick up a few things to layer for the Wales adventure trip I was going on. I honestly think I just packed and blogged and hung around at home for most of the day. I did a lot of homework as well that needed to be submitted before I left. That night, we celebrated Emily’s birthday at a dim sum restaurant in Shoreditch called the Drunken Monkey. We ate so much food it was amazing but I was so disgusted with myself afterwards. That was one of the first times that all 8 of us had been in the same place at the same time since Amsterdam I think. After dinner, Jas and Bri and I encountered a tube strike disaster. The district line was pretty much shut down, it was raining, and the central line was completely closed due to the strike. So, we took two buses all the way home. Obviously we’d just eaten our weight in Chinese food, and we were all tired and feeling pretty nasty. There was a pug on one of our buses though. So I’ll count it as a win.

I’ll leave it here because the next post will be about my break, which includes Thursday! I’ll post that really soon, it’s basically done because I worked on it while I was in Italy.  Cheers!

[the100kfactorybonus-blog]

(What You Really Need)

By Jason White

You’re probably already set on buying 100k Factory by Aidan Booth and Steve Clayton. I do not need to convince you how great it is. 

Your biggest concern is probably who you should buy it from.  I’m sure you noticed a million affiliates offering crazy bonus packages with a million things crammed into it and some outrageously “million dollar bonus package” (artificial value).

More importantly, you probably don’t realize that the person who sells the most 100k Factory copies wins $50,000 as a cash prize. This is, naturally, making these marketers to go through extremes to get you to buy through their link. And most are doing stuff that probably isn’t in your best interest, only theirs.

Let me explain.

When you buy 100k Factory, you’re buying a jam-packed information based course. My question to you is this - why would you want MORE information on top of the already vast amount of high quality information you’re getting in the course itself?

In all likelihood a bonus package jam-packed with additional information products that may or may not be related to 100k Factory is going to be distracting to you, not helpful. Now, of course, these “big box full of extra goodies appeals to a certain type of consumer, and that’s what these marketers are hoping - that you’re one of them, so you excitedly, emotionally buy from them so they can win the $50,000 prize.

That’s not the type of bonus package you want to snag when you buy 100k Factory. So what should you look for then? It’s actually simple. You start with what 100k Factory doesn’t have that you’ll need to succeed.

Now, this is going to be different for you depending on who you are, where you are currently, and what you want out of the course. 

Is it likely that as soon as you buy this course, some magic dust will be sprinkled over you and you can create stores as well as Steve and Aidan? Not even close!  The reality is, most of what they do requires, in addition to all their specialties, a fantastic grasp of technical know-how.

True, there are some done-for-you things in their new version...

The tricky thing about this stuff is…

… I don’t know how much of it you can teach or button-push versus how much of it is an "either you get it or you don’t get it.” That’s why, if you’re going to be buying 100k Factory you should look to get a bonus package where someone helps you create your interfaces and designs.

Also, not everything is a nail. What do I mean? When you learn something cool, like how to make these high value assets in 100k Factory, your desire is to make every single site be a 5 star production. That’s like the kid with a brand new hammer. With it in his hand, everything becomes a nail.

The reality is that, despite the promises from some of these marketers that this is the greatest thing in the world, it is still contextual. Knowing when you should and shouldn’t use the types of options that Aidan and Steve lay out (and there are several of them) is just as important as knowing how to create them. Actually, more important.  

Now, I’m sure the 100k Factory course covers this - but again, how much can you learn about how to swim by reading about it in a book? You’ll learn more from diving in the pool and getting some hands on experience. 

So whatever bonus package you go with

… as much as possible it would be nice to have some sort of feedback mechanism where you could show what you’re doing and ask “Am I on the right track?”

Now, it’s one thing to do this in a large community, which I’m sure 100k Factory will have. It’s another thing to do it in a small, tight-knit community of like-minded individuals who are all on the same page. Compare it to learning in an intimate class room environment against some massive university lecture hall. The professor may give the exact same lecture in each case, but I think you’d agree with me, different experience, yes? 

Finally, and this may be the most important thing of all - knowing and doing are two separate things. Just because you know how to make great sites, and you learned all of Aidan and Steve's secrets, what are the chances you’ll actually put this stuff into action and make multiples of your investment back?  

Well, historically speaking - not good. Most people who buy courses don’t even make their money back from those courses. In fact, over half the people don’t even finish the whole course - and 100k Factory is a big course. 

So whatever bonus you go with, it would be smart if it had some sort of implementation aspect to it as well. Not just more information. Not just more know-how. Not just more tricks. NO. I’m talking about “we’re going to figure out a way for us to continually take massive action and actually get realistic yet impressive results with this training!"  

Unfortunately, the message you’ve read thus far…

… is for the most part, going to fall on deaf ears. I’m sure you get what I’m talking about logically, but as soon as some smooth marketer comes along and manipulates you emotionally, it is highly likely you’ll buy through them impulsively, which is what they want - so it can help them win a prize. 

I’m hoping this message reaches just the right people, which I expect it to be just a few. This means I have no hopes or aspirations to win this contest. In fact, I don’t want a lot of people buying through my affiliate link, because then it dilutes the amazing bonus package that I have put together for a few people who "get it” - and understand the difference between the “magic bullet” that is being offered to the public and the reality of who should and shouldn’t buy 100k Factory.  

Now, what’s my agenda?

It’s two-pronged. First, I will make a commission when you buy through my link, which is nice. Because I’m incentivized, it allows me to do things to help you that normally wouldn’t be possible. Second, I’m not a fancy guru. I haven’t sold millions of dollars of stuff online with video or without. I struggle mightily just like you do,  and because I am coming from where you’re coming from I can help you like no one else… plus you’ll help me just as much. 

So here’s what I’ve figured out. My partner and I are collectively a professional graphic designer/software engineer and a computer hardware/software technician. Together, we can get your project done and looking great.

The second bonus I have is a community I've set up on skype where we share with each other what we need help with.

I’ll also encourage you to share your goals of what you want to achieve so I and others in the group can help you achieve them. Keep your goals realistic, I don’t want you to say ‘I just want to make one million dollars in 3 days with viral meme beer mug.’ Remember, we’re not the get rich quick crowd other marketers are appealing to. We’re smart and realistic, and realize this is important stuff to know and we’re going to work slowly and surely to achieve our goals.  

This feedback is super duper important

… because a fresh pair of eyes is always beneficial, regardless of who those eyes belong to. 

Finally, the third bonus is accountability. I will add you on Skype, and each day, for the first 30 days,  I will ask you a few simple questions, such as these. 1 - what is your goal for today?, 2 - how are you going to make that happens and 3 - what can I do to help? 

It’s the follow through that’s important, not the information. So if me asking you these questions to help you succeed is too much for you, and you’d rather move on quickly to the next shiny object, then I’m sure this bonus won’t appeal to you.

The reality is, this is “all” I have to offer you:

A professional designer who can take your ideas and make it better than you’d ever be able to do on your own, unless you spent several years perfecting your design skills

A tight knit community of “reasonable expectation” based individuals who will have each others’ backs and who we can share ideas with and help each other succeed.

Me personally - helping you implement business and technical details, someone to be accountable to, and someone who will work with you in the first 30 days to make sure you stay on track

This is only open to the first 15. I do not want a large group, as I don’t have the capacity to serve a lot of people properly. This page will be taken down when spots are filled.

That’s it. No million dollar plus bonuses, no big box of stuff, just what I feel is going to help you the best. If you want to get your hands on my bonus, I’m not going to make it easy, either.

Instead of putting my affiliate link right here, I want you to email me here [email protected] - and let me know if you’re interested.

Even if you’re not sure whether you should get it through me or not, just contact me. While I’d like you to buy through me, I’d rather you get it from someone… anyone… then not get 100k Factory at all. So I can help you find who best to get it through even if it’s not me. 

Just go ahead and email me right now –  [email protected] - and I’ll do my best to help you. Thanks!