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Moon Phase (4)

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: This was a commission for @forallyourikemensengokuneeds - Thank you so much! If you want to commission a piece of your very own, please see here. THIS IS GOING TO BE IN MULTIPLE PARTS. She wanted a piece a la Professional Integrity…. so here we are.

He pried himself from the comfort of the roll out couch only a little before her that morning, doing his best to ignore the way she yawned and stretched and blinked from sleep. How adorable could one person be? Instead, Mitsuhide busied himself in the tiny kitchen.

“Eggs?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Coffee? Sugar and cream?”

“Yeah.” She paused and stared at him suspiciously. “I thought you couldn’t taste anything though.”

Mitsuhide just snickered. “I make do.”

“You know what? Nah. You can make the coffee, but I’ll cook. I don’t trust that response.”

That was probably for the best, but how could he resist the urge to tease her more? Mitsuhide flipped the spatula in his hands and snickered. “It’s fine. I’ve only ever poisoned Nobunaga once with it. Maybe twice. I don’t quite remember. Come to think of it, I got Hideyoshi with my cooking, too…”

“Is this why he accused you of trying to kill them?”

“I imagine anything is possible.”

Rolling her eyes, she bumped him out of the way of the stove. “Yeah. I’m not in a mood for all that. Just give me the dang spatula.”

He traded it to her without a fuss. “Ooh, you just want me to have a fight with you this morning.”

She shot him a sideways grin and tempered it with a frown. “I’ll fight you alright.”

“Very well.” Mitsuhide jokingly rolled back his sleeves. “If we must. I suppose I can take time out of my schedule to show you not to mess with me in my own camper.”

There were any number of things he expected: eyes rolled, tongues clicked, a sharp snap or a witty retort. All of that might have been entirely in character. But no. What Mitsuhide hadn’t expected was for her to very calmly open the freezer--

And fling an ice cube down his shirt.

Despite himself he swore. In one fluid motion he tore off his t-shirt and shook it out, the ice rattling into the floor. She nearly doubled over laughing. Oh, it was war now. Mitsuhide flung his shirt aside and advanced on her with a predatory grin. “I see how it is.”

“No!”

She swatted at him first with the spatula, which he batted easily aside. Onward he pressed. With a tiny yelp, she pressed back into the kitchen, laughing and shoving back at him until she was trapped in the nook by the window and the stove. “No! You ass!”

“I’m the ass? I didn't fling an ice cube down your shirt. Shall I make it quite clear that you owe me?”

“Get your--stop!”

Too late. Mitsuhide descended on her, tickling her sides. She screeched and floundered, laughing despite her best efforts. “You a-a-a-ass! Oh--J-jesus! St-stop!”

“Say ‘please’,” he instructed. She tried to dodge to the side; he blocked her with a well placed knee, his dancing fingers rolling up her waist.

“St-st-st-stop! Oh my g-g-g--please!”

At last he relented. She collapsed against his chest, wiping tears from her eyes and gasping for breath. For his part he was too surprised to stop her. Instead Mitsuhide stood there, cradling her between the wall and him and wondering how much of the hammer against his sternum was her working for air and him working for calm.

“You’re--” Giggles still came in fits. “You’re such an ass.”

“I apologize.”

“No you don’t,” she scolded.

“No,” he admitted, gravely soft. “No I don’t.”

They locked eyes. If she’d been laughing before she certainly wasn’t now, not when he looked at her and could see the whole wide world opening up in her gaze. Oh. There it was. He’d often wondered when he might see her realize the depth of his affections. Now that it was happening, he didn't know what to do or say. Did he apologize? Admit cleanly? Let her simply sort it out for herself? God, she was so pretty when she looked at him like that--

His phone rang.

“Hold on,” he muttered, and finally let her go. “That might be Mamayoshi.”

“Oh.” She smiled, a little too flustered to make the expression work quite right. “Yeah. You don’t want to worry him.”

“He’d likely never stop calling.”

“We can’t have that.”

So finally they parted from each other completely. Mitsuhide turned on his heel and scooped up his shirt, wondering if he’d missed out on something so much better than just her warmth against his. --- He hadn’t hiked in years, so naturally they had to drop by a local Goodwill and scrounge up some proper boots before heading out. His were just a little loose, but the ‘double sock’ trick did wonders, so it wasn’t chafing nearly as much by the time they headed to the trail behind the repair shop.

“Bud said that there’s actually a waterfall back here somewhere,” she told him, donning one of his hoodies he’d thought to pack. It hung too loose on her, but she rolled up the sleeves with practiced hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d borrowed his clothes.

“Did he now? I suppose that’ll be good for a scenic walk.”

“Yeah. Apparently it’s the kind of place people go for good luck before something big.”

That caught his attention. Mitsuhide handed her a full water bottle, slipping the other into his pocket. “Is that the case? I suppose we might need it for the camper. ‘May the part arrive before we wear out our welcome in the back of a parking lot’.”

She shot him a grin. “May the part arrive before Hideyoshi goes insane from worry.”

“May the part arrive before you get sick of my company.”

“Aw, Mitsuhide,” she chided, soft and sincere. “I could never get sick of you.”

For the barest of seconds he let himself believe it. “I would certainly hope so. Shall we?”

The gravel path back to the trail crunched softly underfoot. Overhead, geese honked and screamed their traveling sound, the flap of wings dulled the further they dipped into the woods. Soft sunlight diffused between the branches and dappled over the cool earth, scattered over mounds of gold and crimson leaves. Everywhere he looked the whole world was shedding its skin, and it was beautiful.

She was the most wonderful part of it.

That was the thing. As the trickling stream beside them transformed into a beautiful river, rolling smooth and clear over the stones beside them, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Even through her sadness she was more than he could imagine. So much for pushing his feelings away. It was as if she belonged to the woods around her and he was just a trespasser in its depths.

A falling leaf caught in her hair. She laughed and batted it away. He wondered if she would react similarly to his hand. Rather than chase the subject, he had a long drink from his water bottle instead.

The river beside them cascaded at last over one long drop: a tiny waterfall, just for them. She shoved back her hair and shot him a smile. “I’m gonna get in the middle of it.”

“Go for it. By all means. I’ll be here to fish you out.”

“Nope! You’re coming with me!”

“Whatever makes you believe that?” He laughed, but she just caught him around the wrist and dragged him over the dividing wall with her, hoping stones one at a time. Too late now. He guarded himself against the spray with his spare arm.

“Did you not think that we don’t have ponchos?”

“I’m hot from hiking!”

“You’ll catch your death of cold on the way back.”

“I didn't realize Hideyoshi was with me.”

The rebuttal was so stinging that he just stopped and laughed, the sound echoing off the rocks and trees and singing upward into the sky. She shot him a knowing grin and plopped down onto a smooth river rock. “Oh, you weren’t pulling your punches with that one, were you?”

“No. You never pull them with me.”

That was true enough. Mitsuhide settled down beside her, their shoulders brushing, and unzipped his hoodie. “Come here. If I’m going to Hideyoshi you, I’ll do it properly.”

“Oh? And how is that?”

Easing one arm out of the sleeve, he wrapped half of the jacket over her shoulders as best he could, drawing her up against his thigh. She blinked but didn't fight.

“You’ll get my camper all wet if you return covered in spray,” he drawled. “Better that my hoodie get soaked than all of you. The washer and dryer situation isn’t much.”

“Oh yeah. I hadn’t thought about that. There isn’t one in there, is there? To the laundromat with me, then.”

“So it would seem.

They sat there a long, long time, the rushing water behind them a backdrop that couldn’t compare to the sound of her faint humming. Mitsuhide pulled her even tighter. She didn't protest. Instead she rocked her head against his shoulder and shut her eyes, finally still in the quiet woods.

He wondered what she was thinking. He wondered how she was feeling. Most of all, he wondered if she was happy.

“Mitsuhide?” She started, before he could even think to ask her.

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you a dumb question?”

“Anything.”

She cracked a suspicious eye at him. “Do you promise not to laugh at me?”

Mitsuhide hummed in amusement. “No. Why would I ever promise that?”

“Because it’s serious, you jackass.” Her frown was only temporary. “I mean it. Really. Please don’t laugh.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Do you like me?”

He tempered the rising chuckle only just in time. “No, I only invited you into my camper for kicks.”

“That’s--that’s not what I’m asking you, Mitsuhide.” The indignant flush was a thing of beauty. “I’m asking you seriously, and that’s really hard for me. I feel like I’m being egotistical even asking.”

That wiped the smile from his mouth. “You didn't mean if I like you as a friend.”

“N--no.”

“You meant to inquire if I had feelings for you. Is that it? Feelings that go beyond friendship?”

She looked less and less certain of herself with every word. He cursed himself for it. Why couldn’t he just answer the damn question. “Yeah. That’s what I’m asking.”

With that he fell silent. What could he even say? He wasn’t a good enough man for her. ‘No’ was more forgivable. She could move on, meet someone worth at least half of what she was to him, be as glorious and beautiful as the sunrise in someone else’s arms--

“Yes,” he croaked, scarcely managing more than a whisper. “For years. At least a decade. I’ve spent more nights lying awake thinking about you than I’d ever care to admit.”

Her eyes glimmered. “Really?”

He was too far over the ledge not to jump. Finally he trusted himself into the freefall. With one brave, daring finger he trailed a fine line over the curl by her ear, tucking it back, threading his hand into her hair and letting it tumble over his hands. “Really.”

Finally she turned away from him. Her ear was bright pink. “I--you know, Masamune told me something like that--”

Mitsuhide almost laughed from shock. “He did? That bastard. I’ll have to hang him out to dry. When did he do that?”

“Oh God, I don’t know. Years ago. He mentioned something about you having a flame for me, and I didn't believe him--”

“I can see why not.”

“Hush.”

The longer he sat in the empty vacuum of words, the less comfortable he felt. At last Mitsuhide cupped a hand under her chin and forced her to look up at him, matching eyes.

“I told you,” he murmured, his voice smooth under the staccato crash of water. “Now you can tell me why you asked, little mouse.”

There were lots of things Mitsuhide learned to expect from her. A witty repartee, the sarcastic flick of a hand, the twist of a wry smile. All of these things were imprinted on his heart like a brand, buried deep inside him where he kept all of his most treasured memories.

What he didn't expect was for her to get into his lap.

“What exactly are you doing?” He hummed, doing his level best to keep the surprise from his voice.

“Shut up.”

Her hands were warm on his cheeks. She tasted like something sweet, the faintest tinge of a mint and strawberry chapstick and a crisp fall day. All the spray from the waterfall collected on her lower lip and he sucked it dry, barely allowing himself to admit what was happening. But it was happening. She was kissing him. She was kissing him, and after all the long years of waiting he wanted to pretend it wasn’t everything he’d ever wanted--

And it was.

He took a thick handful of her hair and she gasped ragged against him. Too bad. He didn't have the heart to grant her mercy now. Instead he closed the distance between them once more, lavishing all his attention onto her mouth, pouring his heart into swallowing every gasp and murmur and breathed incantation of his name.

“Don’t stop,” was all he managed the moment she went silent. “Keep going.”

By the end of it he was cradling her on the rock, his hoodie bundled tight around them, her head on his arm and the flush of her cheeks the brightest thing in all the firestorm leaves. He smiled and traced his thumb over her lips.

“Dare I call this a success?”

She flung a leaf at him. He just laughed and bent over her for another kiss.

Build a Community Challenge

So,  I’m going to be starting a challenge with Agnes and Echo! This modified challenge takes certain aspects that I like from a few other challenges (The Settler challenge, @simalienn‘s After the Storm challenge and the Sim Crossing Legacy challenge mainly). I take no credit for the ideas in this challenge, I have just merged some existing ideas into one place and re-written the rules to make it more challenging for my own game-play.  

Goals...

·         Repopulate and build a community

·         Lift all restrictions 

·         Unlock community lots

·         Complete all collections - and display in your museum

I found it quite difficult using the long list of instructions for quick reference so have created an easy to follow mind map to keep track of goals/progress which you can access here, you can also edit and create your own copy on this link!

I’ll leave the rest under the cut :) 

To start...

·         Choose a world, bulldoze all lots. (I will be using Oasis Springs)

How many of each lot type  required will depend on what world you choose. This choice will also determine how long/how many generations your challenge will be (world with more lots will take longer)

Newcrest - 6 Community Lots & 9 Residential Lots

Willow Creek - 7 Community Lots & 14 Residential Lots

Oasis Springs - 9 Community Lots & 12 Residential Lots

Windenburg - 13 community Lots & 14 Residential Lots

Brindelton Bay - 6 community Lots & 10 Residential Lots

·          Build your museum (or download mine from here)

·         Choose your founder's starting lot and build or download a home (I will be using a decorated lot without most amenities eg bed, appliances and no simoleons) however this is not a necessity just personal preference. Get mine here.

·         Once you have your home, set the household funds to $0.

·         Create your founder (and their partner if you like) any traits or aspirations can be chosen for them.

·         Your founder must be a Young Adult - Life span set to normal or long. (If you prefer ageing off you can set goals to determine ageing)

·         Turn off Fill Empty Homes in game options

Rules

·         You may only control one sim. That sim is called the heir. You will control several heirs during this challenge, but only one at a time.

If you want, you can use one helper (the spouse / sibling / parent etc. of your heir). The helper may do simple tasks (such as repair an object, water plants, cook a meal, feed a baby), but you shouldn't control the helper too much - only a couple of tasks a day. If you don't use a helper, you may notice that the inactive sims in your family won't do much (or any!) work autonomously, which does not feel very realistic in a community.

·         There may only ever be one heir at a time. You can freely choose who the next heir is and you can decide when to start playing the next heir, but once you’ve decided, you can’t go back to playing the old heir. If you start playing the new heir while the old one is still alive, the old one is not considered an heir anymore.

·         The new heir must be the previous heir’s child.

·         If the heir has many children, all those children except the future heir must move out when they become young adults.

·         The heir may marry and move their spouse in but they should bring no funds with them.

·         You may not age sims up days before their actual birthday.

·         Cheats or mods that give you an advantage are not recommended.

·         Traits and aspirations are always randomized when a baby is born or a sim ages up. You can use any random trait generator (I use this one)

·         Exception: You may choose the traits and aspirations for the child if either of the child's parents has any of the following traits: Family-Oriented or Mentor, or has completed the Super parent Aspiration.

·         Each heir can only unlock up to 2 community lots in their lifetime.

Repopulate

Yours is the only family living in the community in the beginning.

Rules for adding families:

·         When you are allowed to add a family, roll a six-sided die or use random.org to determine the number of people in the family (between 1 and 6). Then create or download.

Different ways to populate the colony:

-Have babies!

-You can use your Charisma skill to persuade people to join your colony: You can add one family for every sim in your family who has reached level 6 in Charisma.

-You can also attract people by hosting great parties. You may add one family for every type of party for which you’ve got a gold medal. You can only invite people who live in your colony to your parties, you can’t invite homeless people!

-Improving the services and the infrastructure in your colony will also make people move into your community. You may add one family for every community lot you add.

Restrictions and lifting them

Building

You cannot build any walls, windows, floors as no one has the skills or the personnel required. 

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-Must be at least one other family in the village AND a sim in your family must have at least level 8 Handiness.

Electricity

There is no electricity yet. You may not use the computer, the TV, the radio etc.

*Exceptions to this rule being Lights, Fridge and Stove, Although if you want to make it more difficult, apply this rule to everything.

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-There must be at least four different community lots in your colony AND a sim in your family must have 6 skill points in Logic AND must have reached Level 2 of the Nerd Brain Aspiration.

Medicine

Hospital births are not allowed and woohooing may always lead to a pregnancy (roll a six-sided die or use random.org first: 1 means you need to pick the interaction Try for baby instead, and if you roll 2-6 you can just pick Woohoo). You can always choose to Try for baby if you want to.

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-There must be at least five different community lots in your village AND a sim in your family must have at least level 8 Herbalism skill.

School

There is no school in your village. You must prevent children from going to school.

Until then they are ‘homeschooled’ each child is to complete homework (including extra credit if it’s an option) & earn at least one skill point each day - The skill point can be any skill you choose

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-You must have at least 8 children/toddlers living in your village (only 2 children from your own family can count within the 8) AND a sim in your family must have the Mentor reward trait.

High School

There are no possibilities for higher education in your village. If you unlock this, you can choose the traits for your sims when they age up to YA.

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-You need to lift the restriction School first AND must be at least 5 teenagers in the village.

Careers

You may not have a normal job as there aren’t any companies or infrastructure. Careers are therefore not allowed, but you may use other means to earn money (painting, collecting, gardening, fishing etc.)

Requirements for lifting this restriction:

-There must be at least five different community lots in your village AND there must also be at least 20 people living in your village (including your family) AND a sim in your family must have the reward trait Entrepreneurial.

Adding Community Lots

·         You can add whichever lots you want in whatever order, you don’t need to add them all.

·         Only one of each lot type (may need more if using a bigger world eg Windenburg)

·         Each heir can unlock and add only two community lot during their lifetime.

You can either pay $6000 for a lot or fill the other requirements, in which case you won't have to pay anything. If you decide to pay, just use a money cheat to reduce your money by the required amount.

Arts Centre

Painter Extraordinaire aspiration level 2

Painting skill level 6

Creative visionary reward trait

Bar

Mixology skill level 6 

Master Mixologist aspiration level 2

Gold level House Party achieved

Cafe

Baking skill level 6

Friend of the World aspiration level 2

Gym

Fitness skill level 6

Gym Rat reward trait

Kareoke Bar

Bar unlocked

Singing skill level 6

Library

Great storyteller reward trait

Speed reader reward trait

Renaissance Sim aspiration level 2

Lounge

Any instrument skill level 6

Musical Genius level 2

National Park

Unlocked park

Outdoor Enthusiast aspiration completed

Nightclub

Dancing OR DJ Mixing skill level 6

Party Animal aspiration level 2

Pool

Parenting skill level 6

Observant reward trait

Restaurant 

Cooking skill level 6

Gourmet Cooking skill level 6

Master Chef aspiration level 2 

Gold level Dinner Party achieved

Retail 

Charisma skill level 6

Sell 10 items on 'sale table'

Level 6 in skill related to retail area

Spa 

Wellness skill level 6

Unlocked Gym

Vet Clinic 

Pet Training skill level 6

Friend of the Animals aspiration level 2

Park 

Fishing skill level 6

Angling Ace aspiration level 2

Gold level Toddler Play date OR Gold level Weenie Roast achieved

Well, thats it and if you made it this far, thank you and sorry haha! If anyone wants to follow this challenge it will be tagged with #BuildaCommunity. And if anyone else plays this i’d love to be tagged so I can see :)  

Tips for buying and renovating older homes

Is buying an older home to renovate it, the way to go? Here are some tips.

While it has become a major trend to buy an older home for renovation or restoration purposes, some homes can be a nightmare to repair and to renovate despite being reasonably priced and being perceived as “offering good value for money”.

Trevor Sturgess, Seeff’s MD in Kibler Park, says buyers should watch out for tell-tale signs when it comes to older property that will either assist in picking up a good deal or biting off more than they can chew.

Leaks

“It is extremely important to look for signs of leaks as older homes often have old water pipes that have rusted over the years.

These pipes will eventually burst because of the water pressure and a plumber would need to replace all the pipes. This can be both pricey and time consuming.

Watch out for leaks from the ground where puddles of water will gather and from the roof where water marks from the ceiling may be visible.

Always pertinently ask the agent or seller about water leaks and plumbing issues while viewing the property as these may not always be patent defects”.

Wood and rafters

Sturgess continues that it is also wise to look at the wooden rafters outside the home as it will give a general idea of how the home has been maintained over the years.

“If wooden rafters are stained or creosoted, measures were obviously taken to preserve them. If they are starting to rot however it could mean that you would need to redo the entire roof of the home”.

Plaster

Sturgess adds that it is also important to look at the plaster work on walls – as nasty cracks may have been covered up with Polyfila.

If cracks aren’t dealt with in the correct manner they will always return. Follow cracks to see where they go even if means that you have to climb into the ceiling. Also make a point of asking about cracks and any other issues that may be latent.

Electrics

Sturgess concludes that you should also check if all light switches and plugs are working.

“Even though it is the law that a home must come with an Electrical Certificate of Compliance (COC), you will be well advised to check basic things like the oven and stove to see if they switch on and heat up.

Flooring

If there are carpets ask what is underneath – concrete, tiles or wood flooring?

Other defects

Sellers will often undertake to fix up problems that buyers have identified and these should be duly stated in the Offer to Purchase.

Rather spend enough time investigating the home before you put in an offer as such a huge investment certainly warrants due diligence.

Steve van Wyk, Seeff’s MD in Centurion echoes the above.

“Before you undertake renovations or restoration you need to determine if the home you are considering buying lends itself toward either of these processes.

Homes that are falling apart will be more difficult, expensive and time consuming to renovate. Also keep factors like the floor lay-out, supporting walls and location of water pipes in mind before making up your mind about renovation”.

Van Wyk says you should also consider whether you will be able to afford the purchase price of the home together with all the renovation/restoration costs.

"In addition you should be extremely careful not to overcapitalise on renovating a home – especially in an area that doesn’t typically boast renovated homes.

Lastly, think long term – are the renovations you have in mind going to be expensive to maintain in the long run and will they add value to the property?

Do the sums, compare property prices and then make your decision".

Source: Private Property

home sweet home

3/?

so the writing bug bit me hard today and i got through a lot of my wips today, including this new chapter! i was hoping to round up this story in five parts but it’s looking like it miiiight be seven, and that’s cool. but good golly. i hope y'all enjoy this chapter, it was a pretty fun one to write!

“I don’t know if I should be surprised or not.” Karen remarked on the drive from the jailhouse.

Claire shifted slightly in the passenger seat, not wanting meet her sister’s gaze. It was probably the same one she got seven years ago, the night Claire up and left. Disappointed.

“What?” Claire questioned, crossing her arms defensively. “That I was here no longer than two hours and I wound up in jail.”

Karen snorted, she took a quick look to her younger sister. “More like the first place ya went off to was Owen’s.”

“Well, this is what I get.” Claire sighed. “Owen’s big fat mouth is what landed me in jail. Ass.” She hissed the last word.

The further the drove the more nostalgic and dread Claire began to felt as old, familiar houses blurred by. “Did you tell mama and dad?”

“What do you think?” Karen asked back, and it was a question that certainly needed no answer.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the tiny house Claire had once called home. It all looked the same, exactly how she left it. Even the overgrown lawn and weeds seemed to have not changed.

On the porch, a pacing woman came to a stop. Her hands planting on her hips. As if she zeroed in on Claire through the dark.

Janice Dearing. Claire’s mother and ever avid critic.

“Oh, hell.” Claire whispered, letting herself sink down in the seat, till she was sure she was out of her mother’s line of fire. “Did she see me?”

“Claire M’lynn Dearing. Ya walk that behind of yours over here this instant.” Janice’s sharp voice rung out.

Karen turned off the car. “She saw you.” She confirmed.

*

It was a very odd feeling, to feel like a stranger in her own childhood home. Claire kept herself small and out of the way as Hurricane Mama Janice flounced about. Ted Dearing, rolled his eyes to his youngest daughter and gave her a grin.

“She’s happy to see you.” He assured. Claire lifted her brows.

“Funny way of showing it.”

“She’s a funny woman.” He agreed, nodding. Janice paused in her bickering with Karen and glanced over Claire.

“Honeybunch, I know New York is all into fancy cuisines. But you’re practically skin and bones.”

“Missed ya too, mama.” Claire replied, sending her a stiff smile. “I’m sorry you had to find out I was here like this.”

Janice waved a hand. “Oh, darling. You know we’re use to gettin’ calls from the jailhouse at all sorta ungodly hours. C’mon, I’ll make you something to eat. Get some more on those bones of yours.”

Claire looked towards Karen. “I can’t stay, mama. I’m heading out with Karen-”

“Sorry.” Karen cut in, shaking her head. “Gray’s sick. It’s bad enough I left Zach alone with him. I wouldn’t want ya catchin’ anything.” She apologized. Claire watched in utter betrayal as Karen kissed her parents farewell and headed to the door. She gave Claire one last look. One that said

‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’

*

Claire willed her breakfast to remain in her stomach as she drove a near ancient pickup truck into town. The one her father got when he was 18, and now was going on 60.

The engine roared and sputtered obnoxiously, jolting now and then, Claire gripped the steering wheel tightly and screened to a halt in the first available parking spot.

“Damn it.” She swore to herself, swinging the door open. It was just another cherry topping to the longest morning ever. Last night Janice took on the role of questioning warden. Why didn’t she call? Where’s Owen? Why New York, of all places in this wonderful country? Where’s Owen? You’re getting married? But what about Owen?

Claire rubbed her head as she made her way into the bank. An elderly security guard nearly shot off his seat at the side of her.

“Eugene?” Claire asked, looking over him. “It’s nice to see you. How’s, um. Your leg.”

“Miss Dearing.” He nodded quickly “It’s just fine. Now. Uh, pardon I’ll be taking my lunch.” He excused himself, hurrying out.

A pang of guilt went through Claire. Her troublemaking reputation seemed like it’d never fade away. At least in New York-

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

Claire looked towards the booth, a brunette woman stood there with a sly smile. “Oh my Lord.” Claire gasped “Vivianne?”

“Hey there, Claire.” Her old friend nodded. “It’s me. Haven’t seen you in a dog’s age.”

“I’ll say.” Claire smiled. “I noticed there’s no ATM’s.”

Vivianne hummed. “Mmhm, boss doesn’t want them. On’a counta we’d lose on personal contact with the clients. Conversations and all that.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Vivianne’s sly smile returned. “Lowery tells me you and Owen had quite a reunion yesterday.”

Claire snorted. “News travels fast in these parts.”

“More like pillow talk.” Vivianne corrected, flashing a wedding band before Claire proudly. “Goin’ on three years.” She beamed.

“Oh.” Claire looked to the ring surprised. “You and Lowery? Wow.”

“Mmhm. It’s no Tiffany’s. But still.”

Claire cleared her throat quickly. “I-I need to make a withdrawal…”

Vivianne nodded. “Joint account?”

The words made Claire pause in her search for her wallet. “What?”

“Your joint account.” Vivianne repeated. “With Owen.” She said as a matter of fact. “From what I hear, y'all are still married.”

Claire’s eyes widen as an idea that twisted itself into a scheme that would have Owen reeling formed in her mind. “Well, yes.” She replied with a smile. “Yes we are.”

*

The same feeling Owen had yesterday when Claire showed up out of the clear blue, demanding a divorce began to form in his stomach again.

Walking down from the docks, he caught a glimpse of the house. Oh, something was off alright. A neatly trimmed lawn. Lights shining from within.

Owen walked inside and found everything cleaned and replaced. It was a more softer and kitschy nightmare. Blue lounged on her back on a brand new sofa. “Some guard dog you are.” He grumbled, throwing his bag into the bedroom.

The smell of food cooking eased from the kitchen, Claire strolling out with a bright smile and a bottle of wine in her hand. “Hi, honey! Lookin’ good. How’s the family?”

Owen stared at her in disbelief. “Cut the shit. Where’s my stuff?” He demanded. Claire pouted, puckering out her lower lip just a tad.

“Aw, not what kinda wife would I be not pickin’ up after my husband?” She took his chin in her hand and pressed on his cheeks.

“The kind that don’t live here.” Owen grumbled, pulling his head beck. Claire shrugged and waltzed into the kitchen, continuing to cook.

“Claire, where is the hidin’ key?” Owen asked, scanning the house. His eyes stopped on a ceramic pineapple and picked it up. Unbelievable.

“I had the nicest talk with Lowery’s mama about the tractor.”

Owen snorted. “Nice to hear your accent come back.”

“I found out a few things today.” Claire said lightly, bringing out a plate of food.

“Holy shit!” Owen exclaimed, his eyes falling on the new appliances in the kitchen. “What happened to my stove? Aaw!” He groaned, seeing a new fridge. “What happened to my magnets I had here? Damn it, Claire!”

The worst of it all came when he swung the fridge open, and paused. “What in the hell is this?” He asked steadily as he could. “Chick food?”

“Light beer.” Claire corrected smoothly. Owen fumed, but snatched out a can never the less and cracked it open. “I’m still lookin’ for a new mattress though. That old one? Ugh, yuck. Might have to order somethin’.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Whatever blows your dress up, darlin’” He replied. “It’s your money.” He tilted his head back and took a long drink

Claire looked towards him. “But honey, ya said to think of it as…our money.”

Owen seemed to turn into a statue. His fingers gripping the can tight as his eyes grew wide. Claire came by his side. “Are the words ‘joint checking account’ flashing in your head right now?” She asked.

The can crushed easily in his hand, Owen turned slowly and faced his wife. “How much did ya take?” He asked almost not wanting to hear the answer.

“All of it.” Claire replied.

“Son of!” Owen snapped, flinging the can away and turned from her, pushing his hands through his hair. Claire frowned, tugging off the apron she wore.

“You wanted a wife, you got a wife.” Claire snapped back. “And what’s with all that money, Owen? Why aren’t you investing it? Don’t you know anything?”

Owen pointed at her. “I know if you don’t get outta-”

“Sign the papers and I’ll give the money back. All of it.” Claire countered.

“Fine!” Owen agreed.

“Fine!” Claire echoed, snatching the divorce papers, shoving them at him. Owen fumbled as he took them.

“Gimme a pen.”

Claire plucked one from her bag, then pulled it back as another thought crossed her mind. “Just what in the world are you doing with all that money?”

“Claire, just gimme the-”

“And just when did ya quite the repair shop?” She continued, not pausing a second she asked “You’re not doing anything illegal, are you, Owen?”

“So what if I am?” Owen retorted. “I don’t ask about you galavanting around New York with your boyfriend so keep your nose outta my life. Deal?”

Claire froze, shock covering her face. Her eyes watched Owen as a stunned and heavy silence filled the room.

“Who…” She whispered. “Who told you?”

“Darlin’” Owen shook his head, leaning close to her. “Just cause I talk slow doesn’t mean I’m stupid.” He took the pen from her hand and dropped onto the couch, flipping through the pages.

Claire didn’t know what to say in that moment, watching the look in his eyes as Owen shook his head, talking quietly under his breath.

“Nobody finds their soulmate when they’re ten.”

Claire feels like she’s a kid again. Back on that stormy beach, Owen by her side as lightning cracks over their heads…

“Guess not.” Claire replied weakly. Owen looked at her with a tired grin.

“Yeah, where’s the fun in that?” His eyes moved back to the papers, tapping the pen on the coffee table. Claire tried distracting herself by looking around the room, seeing a sleek and elegant glass figure over the fireplace.

“Can’t believe ya kept this.” She sighed. “Most people don’t know what happens to sand when lightning hits it.”

Owen watched her for a moment, then to the clock. “Wow, Claire.” He remarked, gaining Claire’s attention. “I just actually remembered I have myself a hot date tonight.” He grinned, standing.

“What?” Claire asked in disbelief. Owen walked off, tossing the papers onto the dinner table.

“Mind of my lawyer checked that later?”

“Owen, what are you…” Claire shook her head. Owen tugged off his shirt. Seven years had done a job on him. A really nicely done job.

“Claire, I’m a simple country boy.” Owen remarked, tugging on a fresh Henley shirt. “There’s words in there that’s probably fly over my head. You’d probably take me to the cleaners.”

“The cleaners?” Claire deadpanned.

Owen leaned against the doorframe, and glanced around the house. “How much did all this set ya back?”

Now pure annoyance began to replace the sentimental feelings that had been building, and fast. “More than ya even make in a month! Just sign the papers!”

Owen tilted his head, and rubbed his chin. “…Nah.” He finally said, shaking his head. He picked up the papers and gave Claire a small wave, grinning. “But thanks for stoppin’ by. Always a pleasure.”

With that, he strolled out. Leaving Claire to stomp her foot and let out a frustrated growl. “Owen!”

Clearly, their game was far, far from over. Claire intended to finish it.

(tagging: @dinosaurswowenough )

Nightmares

This is definitely the most angsty thing I’ve written for this, but I hope you enjoy it! @dailymaeshughes @ladywiltshire

The nightmares are the hardest thing for Gracia to adjust to. She wishes desperately that she didn’t have to, that there was a way to chase away the demons that haunted her strange little family. Instead, she settled for dealing with the aftermath.

           A low, pain-filled moan echoed from the couch. Gracia slipped out of bed, wrapping her robe tightly around herself, and shuffled to the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water and set in on the stove without having to turn on the lights. She couldn’t tell if this was a Maes-nightmare or a Greed-nightmare, but chamomile tea had turned out to be the best solution for both. She pulled two mugs out of the cupboard before padding over to the couch. She started singing a lullaby as she knelt by the couch. She had learned to do this with Maes shortly after they got married, when his nightmares from Ishval were worst, when he would panic and lash out if anyone tried to touch him, to wake him up from the nightmare. So Gracia learned to sing to him as she approached. It let Maes’ subconscious know that she was there, that she was a safe person, and he didn’t lash out as she tried to wake him up. The man on the couch whimpered. Gracia brushed her fingers through the hair that flopped on his forehead, gently shaking his shoulder with her other hand. Bleary purple eyes blinked up at her. If Gracia was disappointed, she didn’t let it show.

           “Yours or his tonight?” she asked softly, still petting the dark hair.

           “Both, I think,” Greed muttered. In the dark quiet hours of the night, he had stopped pretending that the nightmares didn’t affect him. He still didn’t care, that would be ridiculous. He blamed his response on the ridiculous human vessel he had been saddled with. But whatever the reason, in those unseen moments, he let Gracia take care of him. She kept petting his hair, singing softly, until the kettle let out a quiet whistle.

           “I’ll be right back with the tea,” she told him. Greed just nodded, swinging his feet off the couch to sit up.

           “Was it Ishval again?” Gracia asks quietly as she presses a warm mug into Greed’s hands.

           “He never really talks about it, you know. Him, or Roy, or Riza. I can see the damage, but I can’t do anything to fix it. It’s like a wound, but instead of cleaning it out, they cover it and let it fester.”

She never talks like this, Hughes says in confusion.

           “I don’t push, that’s not what they need,” Gracia continued, “but it breaks my heart. They think I don’t know. That I don’t know what they did, what the military did, what they had to do. And I wasn’t there, I will never fully understand. But I do know. I’m not married to a military intelligence man for nothing. And I worked in the Intelligence office as a secretary while Maes was in Ishval. It’s amazing what people will say when you don’t have the rank for them to remember you’re there.”

           “Why are you telling me all this?” Greed asked. “It’s not like…”

           “You care,” Gracia finished for him. “I know. The in-between time of the middle of the night does funny things to a person sometimes. And I’m telling you because you’re hurting too. Close your mouth, I’ve heard it all from you before. But you don’t have nightmares from things that don’t affect you.” Greed could feel Hughes’ shock and confusion mixing in with his own response. He just stared at Gracia, at the shadowy outline next to him on the couch.

           “Drink your tea,” Gracia instructed. “Then I’ll sing until you fall asleep. It’s not much,” she said, almost to herself, “but it’s what I can do.”

           The scent of coffee and frying bacon woke Gracia. Bido, wearing his flowered apron, hummed as he managed several skillets at once.

           “Morning, Bido,” Gracia said, patting the lizard man lightly on the back. “You’re up early. Good night or a bad one?” Gracia quickly learned that Bido responded to his bad nights by being busy. It was how he dealt with emotion. Gracia had found him deep cleaning the bathroom at 4 AM once, after a particularly bad night.

           “A good one,” Bido answered softly, “no nightmares. I heard the kettle last night, though, and figured you might appreciate breakfast.”

           “Thank you, Bido. I’m sorry if we woke you up. Are you and Kain still taking Elicia to the park today?” she asks. Bido’s face lights up and he nods enthusiastically. If Gracia has any doubts about her deal with Roy Mustang, Bido’s excitement erases them. Gracia remembers the phone call. She had stormed into Team Mustang’s apartment, curtly sending poor Private Fuery next door.

           “Kain, I need to talk to your boss, go make sure they don’t burn down my apartment while I’m here.”

           “But, Mrs. Hughes, ma’am…”

           “I’ll deal with Mustang, don’t you worry about that,” Gracia said. Kain gulped and scurried out of the room. Gracia picked up the secure line and called the colonel.

           “Private Fuery? Has something happened?” Roy asked.

           “This is actually Gracia, and I need to talk to you about some things,” Gracia said as sweetly as she could manage. “Keeping everyone locked in the apartment isn’t going to work.”

           “Gracia, you know we can’t let your… special guests just wander around Central,” Roy said distractedly.

           “I’m not talking about letting them loose in Central, or even letting Greed out. But I have been stuck in a rather small apartment with a hyperactive toddler, a nervous chimera, and a homunculus who is more of a drama queen than my three year old. Somebody is going to die if we don’t get some fresh air soon.”

           “Uh,” Roy spluttered on the other end of the phone. Gracia already had some ideas for a solution, so she pushed ahead before Roy can recover. Maes would probably tell her off for bullying the colonel. But Maes wasn’t here right now, and she had to do something.

           “Now, before you come up with all kinds of logical arguments as to why this won’t work, hear me out. I know we can’t have Bido or Greed running around unsupervised. And you don’t want them left alone in the apartment. But what if one of your people stayed with them while Elicia and I went out? Or went out with Bido? Unlike Greed, he’s not recognizable. Even just letting him do the grocery shopping. He’s such a sweetheart, and giving him a little more responsibility would do wonders for his self-confidence. Please, Roy,” Gracia pleaded. She heard Roy’s muffled sigh on the other end of the line.

           “I’ll do what I can, Gracia. I know this situation is hard on you,” Roy said.

           “Thank-you,” Gracia said chocking back sudden tears.

           Which was why Bido and Kain were taking Elicia to the park and picking up the groceries while Gracia stayed home with Greed and had a much needed break. At least, as much of a break as being home alone with Greed could be.

             Gracia sank into the couch with a sigh, having successfully shoved Kain, Bido, and Elicia out the door with a bag of snacks and a manageable grocery list. Bido had come so far in the time he had been staying with them, and Gracia was so proud to see the anxious man come out of his shell.

           “You look like shit.” Gracia stiffened. The voice was Maes. The face was Maes. But the words, the tone… it wasn’t him. Gracia knew she should stay strong, knew she should fight, but today, she just couldn’t. The tears came instead. Not gentle tears, either, a torrent, a storm, and Gracia was helpless to stop the sobs that threatened to shake her to pieces.

             Fuck, Greed thought. He had not expected that reaction. Gracia usually met him snark for snark. This needed to be fixed. He had broken one of his possessions and had no idea how to repair the damage.

           What the hell did you do? Hughes asked.

           I don’t know! Fix it! Greed hissed, violently shoving Hughes back into control. Hughes closed his eyes, taking a moment to readjust to actually being in control of his body again. He wanted nothing more than to pull his wife into his arms and hold her until the world mended, but that probably wasn’t the best place to start, considering the asshole sharing his body had started this in the first place.

           “Gracia?” he says softly. She jerks, eyes snapping to his face, desperate, and Hughes’ heart breaks just a little more. They stare at each other for a second, an eternity, before Gracia launches herself into Maes’ arms. And maybe he couldn’t fix everything that was wrong just by holding her, but maybe, maybe, for today it would be enough.

Ferb A: Bates Motel Final Fan Fic

Norman slammed the trunk of the car before looking around the Bates Motel parking lot. It was empty. Nothing but leaves scooting along the empty gravel space. His eyes shifted towards the office where he spent so many hours of the past five years of his life. Going through the mail, typing up the motel newsletter, making coffee every morning and all his manager duties. The many times he stood behind that counter and greeted his guests with a smile as they signed the guest book. How it felt to hand over that room key. He was somebody. This motel made him someone. From student to employee, to manager and to owner. This motel has seen it's days long before the Bates moved in but, it saw it's best days these past few years. They made this place into a home. Mother made this place a home and together they built this little paradise. The motel helped them just as much as they helped it. Norman reached up to place his hand on his chest where his Manager pin use to sit. He would always trace the letters with his finger and feel so proud of himself. He remembered his first day. Norman Bates was so excited he wanted to make such a great impression. He had a sense of real responsibility. He wasn't sure how many different blazer combos he went through. He had to look the part right? It was representing this motel and his mother. When he didn't feel the pin there he felt this sort of emptiness fill his chest. His eyes skimmed down the line of room. Each one held it's own story. Each one had a customer that Norman would never forget. Gunner and his band of stoners, the spooky man in Room 9, the lovely family who had the puppies, Annika Johnson, Alex Romero, Marion... He could go on. They were gone and they wouldn't think of this place ever again. The sun was slowly making its way down the sky threatening to disappear at any moment. Norman could hear the soft song of birds as he walked across the driveway. Entering the office he looked around a few times. The smell of coffee and freshly sharpened pencils lingered. It was nice. His hand moved along the front desk and over the guest book that hadn't been touched in many weeks. He remembered the last person to sign it and she would always have a spot in his brain. Moving his way into the back office he let out a heavy sigh. He remembered when this place was filled with boxes upon boxes of dusty old files and old photos and newspaper articles. Norman had completely gone through all of them and turned those dusty boxes into a few simple little files. That contained the history of this place along with those old photos that new sat in the filing cabinet. Turning his head he smirked a little when he saw that old picture on the wall. The peep hole behind it had been filled in and now it was just a regular old picture. He dropped his head as visions of what he's seen on the other side of that wall popped into his mind. He got that chill as he flipped off the light and made his way back to the front office. Reaching out he hit that switch and the Bates Motel light flickered on. The low hum of it's lights was all he could hear as he stepped out into that still evening air. A deep breath left his lungs as he watched the sign bring life to this place once more. Closing his eyes he could still hear the sounds of his guests. Cars pulling in and out of the drive. Dylan sitting over there in that empty chair enjoying an evening beer. The sounds of children laughing and the TV's turning on just loud enough he could slightly hear it from his post behind the desk. "It's such a nice place you have here." "We've been driving for hours so glad we found you." "You're really cleaning this place up kid." "Our stay was wonderful." "I'm going to give you a good review on Yelp!" "Thank you Norman Bates." It all made him smile till he opened his eyes and it was just him. Norman made his way up towards the long set of steps that reached all the way up to that damn old house on the hill. The windows lit up looking alive as he climbed those steps. God how many times did he run up these stairs? If these damn steps could talk. The time him and Dylan had to carry Mother's mattress all the down to the dumpster. He stopped and looked at the faint stain where Shelby bled out all over the place. That time Dylan slipped on the frost and nearly broke his neck. That time Norman gave Emma a piggyback ride all the way up because she was having a bad day with her breathing. The fights that went on, on these stairs. The hugs that happened. The stories that were told. How many times he sat there on that step and just had his Norman thinking time. "She can't do this! She can't leave me!" "Norman let her go!" Climbing that last step as he crossed the porch he reached out and opened that front door. The moment he closed it he was met with complete silence. This house has never been that quiet. There was this twist in his stomach and he had to take a moment to get a grip. Norman looked to his left into the living room. That old fireplace and that couch where he spent many evenings watching TV or reading or doing his homework. Norman stepped further into the room and his hand moved along the back of the couch. Feeling the material against his skin he gave a small smile. The room was dim except for a small light on the side table in the corner. The walls that were filled with photos were now taken down. Removed. Norman looked at that piano sitting in the corner and for a split second he thought he could hear it play. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered that time Mother forced him to sing Mr. Sandman with her. Their many duets and he couldn't count how many times he sat there with her as she played. Trying to teach him here and there but he could only manage to get Twinkle Twinkle Little Star just right. She was the piano player in this family. Reaching out he debated hitting a key and decided against it. The last sound that piano would make was the last song Mother ever played. Instead he moved his hand to the left and turned the light off. Norman walked down the short hall into the kitchen. Dishes use to stack high in the sink and on the table. Piles of old newspaper stacked on one of the chairs. The counter wasn't cleaned. The stove was a mess with pots and pans littered all over it. The fridge was empty and the floor hadn't been swept. Norman let this place go and he was ashamed of that. That's why he took it upon himself this morning to clean every inch of this kitchen. Just how she wanted it. Just how she left it. He could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the smell of pot roast in the oven. The table was set and decorated with fresh flowers. He could hear that hum as Mother moved along the room. This was her work space. This was her happy place. It made Norman smile before he turned to head down into the basement. The basement flooded with light with that flip of the switch. Norman's steps echoed as he climbed down those old wood steps. Looking around the place was pretty dusty but Norman didn't touch too much down here. Just his work space and new repaired furnace on those chilled evenings and the freezer. Looking over his work station everything was cleaned up. A faint dust rested upon the table's surface where his taxidermy equipment use to sit. Boxes of old junk filled the shelves and after all these years Norman never touched any of it. Opening the freezer it was now warm as it had been shutoff. None of the freezers worked anymore and there was still that old yellow caution taped strung here and there. That sickening crime scene tape that only made his stomach burn. There was still some of his creations hiding down here. They would be left behind. Just as Norman was about to leave he stopped seeing a dusty book just under the step. Curious he reached down and pulled it from it's hiding spot. Blowing the dust off the cover it was that old taxidermy book Mother had gotten him years ago. He wondered where it had gone. He felt his heart swell as he exited the basement and turned the lights off one last time before shutting the door. He walked past the laundry room that was all cleaned out. Passing the kitchen he set the book down on the table before going upstairs. He was met with the memories of all those fights they had. The stomping of steps met his ears and the shouting echoed around the house. "Norman please!" "I don't trust you anymore and that changes everything!" "Stop it Norman." "The game was we were devoted to each other. That no one could ever come between us. We loved each other more than anyone could love another person." Norman could hear it all. The crying and the slam of the door. These doors slammed a lot in this house. The stomping of steps and the anger that would fill the upstairs. Norman was met with his bedroom door wide open. Standing in the doorway he skimmed as everything looked to be in place. Bed was made. The desk was cleaned off. The bookcase was empty. He could still hear the pitter-patter of Juno's paws as she ran through the house. How many times was Norman confined to that bed? After one of his blackouts or being sick or after being stuck in a box for a few days. The room still faintly smelled like books and laundry cleaner. Norman looked at the door connecting the two bedrooms. This door still didn't shut or lock right ever since he broke it that one day. Despite the upstairs having so many horrible moments it had it's good. Norman turned off the light and shut the door. Walking by the bathroom that smelled of bleach he went to Dylan's old room. It was kinda how Dylan left it except Norman did go in and straighten things up. Few things on the walls. Mainly pictures of cars and hunting photos and girls. Random football and gun magazines on the floor. He left behind a couple shirts and a hat or two. Norman gathered up the left behind trash and tossed it into the bin near the door. It had that Dylan musk mixed with dust lingering in the air. Dylan... "I'm a man now not her little boy and I wanna be a good man. I trust your judgment if you think this is the right thing to do. You're my brother, you know? I wanna be there for you. We're a family and we love each other we'll work through it." "Get her back, Dylan! Get her back!" "Calm down! You have to!! She's coming back!" "She's not gonna come back! She hates me! She hates me Dylan and it's all your fault!" "Please, Norman.. Everything I've built with Mom, it'll, it'll all be destroyed." "You wouldn't actually hurt anybody though, would you Norman?" Norman stood in the doorway of Mother's room. The last room in the house he wanted to be. The light near the window was on and there was this welcoming glow to it. Hands in his pockets he stepped further into the room. This warm air wrapped around him and he could smell her perfume. Norman closed his eyes and got lost for a moment. He could feel her. Her arms wrapped around him so tightly. Pulling him in for a hug as she kissed his cheek. He could feel her warm embrace as she ran her hand through his hair. That smile on her face. A smile that was burned into his mind. That bright beautiful smile of a woman who was finally happy and finally at peace with the craziness around her. A woman who overcome everything life thrown her way. She was a warrior and she was his hero. "I love you, Norman." "I love you too, Mother." "You mean more to me than anyone in the world." The voices echoed in his head she was still there. Smiling brightly at him as she took his hands and gave them a firm squeeze. There was this bubble building up in his chest. This emotion was building and it was making it's way into his throat. "Hey.." Her voice was soft and comforting. "You're a good boy, Norman." She bit her lip and thought for a second. Norman's misty eyes were focused on her as she spoke so softly. "You're everything. Everything to me Norman." She leaned in and pressed another kiss to his cheek. "There's a cord between our hearts." Those memories of that night on the lake came flooding back to him at her words. He couldn't form any of his own at the moment as tears fought to fall from his baby blue eyes. He suddenly didn't want to let go. He couldn't let go. He couldn't let go of her. That familiar pull and power she had over him all these years was slowly creeping back into him. His hands grasped hers tightly and she gave him a sad smile. "It will be okay. Got it? YOU can do THIS." Norman softly nodded his head and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth as she playfully added. "Now get the hell outta here." Norman's eyes flew open and frantically looked for her. The bed, the closet, near the window, behind him. She wasn't there. His hands shook as he brought them up to his face. Taking a moment to collect himself. That warm embrace he had felt was gone. The smell of her perfume was no longer in the air. It just a still room that held so many memories that were now put to rest. Forcing himself he crossed the room and turned the light off. He took a second to brush his hand over freshly washed bedspread. The silence in the room was making his ears hurt. Looking over towards the closet where all her dress use to be.. You can do this Norman. With that Norman walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. Making his way quickly down the stairs he dropped by the kitchen again. Reaching out and collecting the book he had set there. One last look around he gave a firm nod. As he headed for the front door he stopped suddenly. There it was. He could hear that old record player turn on as Bobby Darin faintly filled the house. There it was again. That pull. That desire to stay with her. His hand grasped the door handle and he got his grip again and walked out of that old house on the hill. Locking it up behind him he could still hear that old tune as he climbed down the stairs. The sun was nearly down casting the sky in this pinkish orange. He looked out at that parking lot, the Bates Motel sign lit high above. The For Sale sign stuck just below the No Vacancy sign. He would never see this again. His heart pounded so hard in his chest as he made his way towards the car. Tossing the book in through the window. "We came here to start over, I am starting over." "We've been through a lot and this is our chance to start over." Norman Bates looked up at that old house that had been his home as well as his prison for the past years. Piling in this damn car with whatever it could hold and moving to White Pine Bay was an adventure. A town full of weirdos who at first didn't welcome the Mother and Son but then found them worthy to be apart of their community. Moving here and running this motel was a fight for survival, a fight for acceptance and a fight to succeed. Behind all this fighting was just a family trying to find their place in the world. Trying to start over and along the way only grew strong and bigger. Many had doubted them and they hit a lot of roadblocks. This wasn't your average family. Just a confused, loving boy and his Mother trying to make a life for themselves. Sure this rundown motel and that old house might have seen it's share of tears and blood and bodies but also laughter and undying love. This old house. This old motel. Was just a spot on the road but it was a dream. It was her dream. "We own a motel, Norman Bates!" A few tears fell from Norman's eyes but he quickly brushed them away. Suddenly he couldn't hear that old record player anymore. No longer could he feel the soul that had been dancing her heart away in that old house. For the first time in his life he was alone. Truly alone. Mother was gone. Giving the Bates Motel sign one last smile Norman climbed into his car and pulled out of that drive way, never looking back. The End..

I saw 3 sips then I had a bells

Nothing beats the old fashioned pub  especially an Irish one but they are now virtually extinct. We should share pictures of property developers jangling their keys outside of closed boozers on Facebook to shame them.  Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, one such pub open on a Christmas night -the key to a great holiday for Himself. Himself has to get out Christmas night- his sire, Aulfella was always rearing up, undoing the hard work of Mam. Aulfella was capable of loving or hating anything at any given, depending on his temper. He hid his good moods in the same place as his money - under the carpet in the front room, reaching for them both when he was on his way to Da pub or da club.

Your best guess as to the name of a pub where the Provisional IRA paper An Phoblacht was sold openly, tricolours decorated the wall and the jukebox featured anti -internment hit The Men Behind The Wire? The Crown of course ( I always add upside down as a nod to the Celtic FC halftime favourite Irish Soldier Laddie) For Himself the test of a decent Irish bar is the Guinness - you can tell a decent pint when you can see mark of each sip on the side of the glass. I offer three swallows for you this season - let’s start with a huge, thirsty gulp.

Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, a proper Irish pub The Crown. Himself is there with his first proper girlfriend - Dixie. They are deep into their relationship having met across a crowded home and wear department in Tesco Chapel Market. I’m Not In Love played, his hands on her waist and...breathe (exhale loudly. A glance down at the gap left between the skin  of her back and the waistband of the Wranglers reveals a possible future of bliss - the white bra strap shining in the UV light. ..a reverie...were these the hips that turned a thousand faces and burnt red these cheeks of Islington? A small cry escapes her lips - Sorry love - those plastic sandals are harder to manoeuvre than the Green Flash I normally wear for dancing.

Mam was of a somewhat sunnier frame of mind - where she hid when depression struck we never did find out though Himself and  Dabrudders found most of her hiding places. In earlier years, Accomodation was an old store of some kind affectionately known as the shop. Upstairs one bedroom,with two bunk beds and a cot a sitting room with a pull down bed and a stereogram. Downstairs a shop floor with building gear covered in dust sheets, a kitchen with coal fired stove leading out to a yard. The toilet was reached by a run through a coal cellar sometimes fast, sometimes slow ,,, record time on return from a camping trip in Youghal which included The Return of Dracula one night (rather lax enforcement of X certificate in Ireland) and waking next morning to discover the tent had been pitched beside a slaughterhouse - sheep skulls stretched out in greater numbers as the tide retreated from the stony atlantic shore.

In the cupboard in this  dungeon was where the Christmas presents were hid - and played with/ sometimes ruined long before the day. Mam commented on the odd angle of the crossbar on the subbuteo goals - a few years later we could’ve blamed the Tartan army saying it was a souvenir set of Wembley 77. Himself just used a Swan vesta and Mam’s hairnet to repair it (the onion bag not being to scale).

The shop went as part of slum clearance, as did most of the other condemned buildings. Himself and his moved into the renovated Victorian terrace - into the nineteen seventies - bathrooms and central heating , into the peak of Equality in the UK. The new neighbours’ eldest worked part time at Tesco Chapel Market and through this network Himself impressed enough at interview to collar a role packing cheese and butter then progressing to staffing the Deli counter in a double act with younger brother Seamus. Union membership guaranteed good wages which rose in line with inflation of which there was plenty .

Time honoured courting process was in place from the first time he saw the poppers on the nylon housecoat struggling to contain the developing curves. His cotton overall hid his embarrassment but not his intention - all boys schools did not prepare you well for this. Even the Drama teacher the fifth form swooned over paled in comparison. And then their story started - a word in his shell like -not a letter in the Hardy/ Shakespeare/ Tolstoy mould but a hand gesture to approach a friend - not like today. Sexting was Chelsea’s cup winning manager, Mobiles were Airfix planes on string and pawn featured in a passage from Christy Brown’s  Down All My Days which Aulfella could recite by heart - the good suit went in Monday and was redeemed for Sunday mass. Himself was onto a sure thing - if he asked her to dance at the Xmas social she’d say yes.

Consider the obstacles there: asking - the potential for rejection greater than the selection of the Park football sides where every choice was carefully considered to produce a finely calibrated balance. Fourth best defender gone would you select the second best header without the guarantee you’d land a crosser from the top five?  Dancing here did not mean a hustle a bump or even the ska shuffle all of which he could handle. No The Smiley’s People double agent meant a slow dance. So he watched the couples, the elder siblings the pairings of someone’s mate and someone’s sister. Some still together celebrating their second grandchild…

It worked, Nature  took over they “got off”, “pulled” and then they were “going out”. This did not mean going out that much as funds were somewhat limited, opportunities even moreso. There was a date culminating in a faint prompted by a Sissy Spacek  bloodbath scene. The Odeon Holloway Rd witnessed many a coitus interruptus in its years and this apology laden nursing scene in the foyer echoed many of the experiences Himself and Herself played out. Himself caught the climax of the film   a few years later at college ; ditto the coitus although that was more to do with a Malt Liquor (Breaker, Colt 45 ) for 10p promotion - and  Carrie herself could not have levitated his head  off the pillow the next morning.

No, going out meant staying in with the occasional foray for a coke float at Wimpy with unattached girlfriends (never my mates) including Margaret.  Sitting indoors then in a council maisonette. The sitting room was long with the auditorium seats pointed at the shrine - the rented colour set delivering nightly delights. On the sofas, the Elder sister and Geezer fiancee (saving for wedding so not going out) on the armchairs Graham and Ivy the parents, Between them our would be lovers. Telly and smoking that was the evening - Whan the Bert Comes In, Carry On something and Rich Man Poor Man. .When the folks went dahn ve Legion the vinyl came out - Atlantic Crossing with its slow side and fast side and David Essex’s concept album All the Fun of the Fair. Himself had just begun to achieve some minor plateaued competence on the Hofner Guitar Aulfella had bought from a Showband mate (typically flamboyant gesture and much loved) so this obviously was the equivalent of a masters in Musicology allowing him to pontificate and evaluate all music ever created or about to be - for Heads like him and his best mate Pat most music was judged and unless suitably complex, the black cap came out. Himself kept these opinions to hisself or there would be no goodbye fumble in the porch, no warm lips, no ambition destroyed by parental knock, no warmth enough to see him the ten minute walk home.

But in the Crown buoyed by a half pint the opinions flowed as freely as the song. Xmas evening found them with unattached friend Margaret and her extended family of Lydons as in John. The patrons rotated the singing some better than others but all applauded/ gently ribbed then it came to John himself. He starts doing white Christmas, HImself  joins in forcing JL to go faster,make more of a mess of the melody, savour the lyric, thrash it - invent punk This bit might be somewhat exaggerated in memory, especially as JL was not even there.

That’s the first sip now the second and the third, happy ending.

That Pub, When the comedian Himself returned to The Crown years later it had become Waxys Dargle - a theme Irish bar, Shane Mcgowan’s local, etc. Singing would get you barred. There were no old men in suits and ties. Now it is a block of flats. Himself remembered the Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross - put up a sign no  hats / no guinness - code for  No Blacks no Dogs no Irish I guess. That sign always conjured up an image of Phil Lynott  trudging from door to door whispering to the Jack Russell nestling beneath his Afghan coat - dont worry me darling their women go mad for me. One year, Himself and da family minus one acted in chorus and decamped to The George in Essex Rd where with the families of Dabrudder’s Sunday football side they created a kind of mad  talent show where audience and performers became one - a communion as Boal would call it. Twas grand - it’s now a gastropub where three organic cherries on the slot machine means a village in Cambodia gets a new goat. the pub quiz includes questions based on the budapest metro map of 1959 and it offers 65 different ales in flavours like panetonne and panfried liver but only one mode of atmosphere - tedious. Gentrification as effective a migration prompt as Potato blight.

Gentrifiers

Chorus - Making your town cool - house price house price house price school - repeat ad nauseam

We think buy to let’s an absolute disgrace/ glad we bought 5 at the old stamp duty rate

Here’s to our genius - or was it / our parents stumping up the dough for the deposit

Agents call this place Shoreditich Lite/  I call it prosecco - bubbly bland and white

So pass the craft ale pass the tapenade / if someone mentions brexit pass the hand grenade

Otag kebab’s been skewered by souvlaki food carts/ I loathe graffiti but our kids study street art

Pie and mash, licquor, winkles and wallies are all rebooted as cuisine a la cockney

Fiver for a loaf of bread a petition vs. greggs / Costa flipping coffee costa flipping arm and leg

Can’t buy malt vinegar to put upon your plate just condiment fundamentalists of balsamic state

Riding Monday then flute, Latin Greek / by Tuesday we’re into the rhythm of the week

Lance flunked the grammar despite all the tutors So Granny pays the fees at st mediocres

Everywhere the skips and signs shout out: we’re cooling up your town - time to get out

Repeat chorus and fade

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