but i said to myself 'no ruth'

4

Sunset Manor - Assisted Living Facility

“You gotta take me to the bank,” Nathan said. “I can take out ten thousand dollars and we can go rent a limousine and me and you and Don and Joe can all go out to dinner. And then we can go pick up Lori and go to the park…”

“Listen Nathan, I’m your friend. I’m here to help, but I can’t take you to the bank,” I said. “There are limits to what I can do. I can bring you some art supplies. I can bring you a snack. We can hang out and draw and I can be your best friend, but that’s about all I can do,” I said, putting my arm around him.

Nathan lives in an assisted living facility. He’s in his late 60’s but is intellectually about 6 or 7 years old. He has some difficulty walking. Sometimes he has little mini seizures and falls down. He likes to tell stories. He constantly tells one about how he just won the lottery and he needs me to pick up the money for him at the bank. One time he even got out a dusty old leather satchel he wanted me to fill with all the cash. He’s also constantly getting married. Last week he told us he got married in the Bahamas.

Nathan is probably the sweetest human I’ve ever met. He laughs easily. I have to be careful or he’ll laugh so hard I worry he’ll fall or have an episode. He hugs me several times whenever I leave.

The Beginning
When I started doing hospice visits I told myself I could handle it. I’d been to dozens of funerals and I wasn’t afraid of death. I’d tried to help foster kids and orphans, but that was too much for me. I guess it brought up my own issues about being a foster kid and courtrooms, and adoption and being unadopted, being made a ward of the state, homeless.

Hospice would be easier for me. These folks were terminal. Given three months or less to live. Plus, they were being taken care of by a slew of nurses, doctors and their own families. I’d just be spending an hour or two a week with them. Just visiting. Just being there for them. Maybe I could give them a little comfort. I could talk to them or read or just listen. Maybe I could hold their hand as they approached the great unknown. Maybe I could sit with an ailing husband while a wife got out of the house for an hour or two. How hard could it be?

In our training they said, if the patient dies, don’t call 911. Call the nurse or your contact number. I found that reassuring. I wouldn’t have to worry about fucking it all up. Even if something went horribly wrong I could just be there for them til the end.

Don
So now I’m in over my head. I have a patient I’ve had for over a year. Don lives at Sunset Manor and is dying of cancer. He’s mentally handicapped and been in various facilities his whole life. They’ve decided not to tell him he is dying. He actually gets around pretty good, so much so he gets into trouble because sometimes he escapes. So I take him out of the home once a week to help ease his wanderlust. We usually go get some ice cream. Sometimes we wander around the mall or visit a pet shelter if we have time between nurse appointments. One week he wanted to stop at the store for some activity books. He likes word find puzzles and coloring books. The next week he wanted some coloring pencils. The week after he wanted more coloring pencils.

“What happened to the coloring pencils we bought last week Don?”
“Oh nothing,” he says, averting my gaze.
“Did you lose them?” I ask
“No,” he says, “they’re for Nathan.”
“Oh, does Nathan live at the house with you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “He wants some batteries too for his radio.”
“What kind of batteries?” I say, shaking my head.

When we get back to the home Nathan is nervously waiting like a prisoner planning an escape. “Did you get the stuff?!” he whispers loudly, blinking his hands with anticipation.

“Hi Nathan,” I say introducing myself. He smiles a big shy rotten toothed smile and nods excitedly. He pulls out a shopping list.

Color pencils, Cracker Jack, Babe Ruth, batteries, headphones, sketch paper, People’s Sexist People Magazine. Also a list of numbers.

Nathan explains that he won the lottery and these are the winning numbers. I just need to pick up the money and a few other things. He’ll give me and Don a million dollars each.

I hand Nathan his colored pencils and explain to him that he is supposed to give me the money first and I’ll go get him all the items he needs. This turns into a long running joke where every time I see Nathan the first thing he says to me is “Did you get the money?!”

I say, “No, I thought you had the money! You’re supposed to give me the money and I’ll bring it to the bank!”

Then he laughs and laughs. Then we get down to the serious business of what he drew for me that week and if I brought him anything. Nathan and I have a working agreement. I’ll buy him art supplies as long as he makes me a drawing. I’ll also bring him one snack, but that’ll cost another drawing or a story or poem.

Lately, he’s been trying to weasel a radio & headphones out of me. I explain to him that these are expensive and my resources are limited to art supplies, snacks and books. Last week I got him a big Ripley’s Believe It or Not book from a thrift store. A Guinness Book of World records and People’s Sexist People is on the list too, but I try to dole things out slowly. I got three guys I’m buying stuff for and, sadly, anything of value gets stolen from these guys.

Joe
Joe is Don’s roommate. He draws all the time and brags that he taught Nathan how. He’s a former sign maker. I saw him drawing a horse one day with an old nub of a pencil. He had a ruler he’d fashioned out of a restroom sign, but he was having trouble because he didn’t have an eraser. When I bought him some pencils and erasers, he said that God had sent me. That he’d been praying to find an eraser. I made the same deal. He’d make me art and I get him supplies. Joe draws 20-30 drawings for me a week! Most are Merry Christmas cards to my wife and I. Some are pictures of politicians. (He hates Trump!) He also draws sailboats and his dog that he had to leave when he came to the home. A story for another time.

Every week I spend an extra hour with these guys after taking Don out for ice cream. The four of us hang out in Don & Joe’s room. We sit on twin beds and look at art and pictures and tell stories and laugh like little boys. They are all so sweet and thankful and say it’s their favorite thing all week.

I’ve been having a hard time with it though. I tried to avoid this. I just wanted to help someone through a dark moment in a dark hallway. Now I’m neck deep with the lost little boys (one of whom is me) trying to live in a world of loneliness and pain.

Plus, I can’t shake the feeling that I could help a hundred poor lost souls if I had my shit together. I break down and cry when I’m alone, thinking of how happy I make them with just a few pencils and paper and an hour or two of my time.

I look at the world and I’d hate it if hate wasn’t a waste of time. I guess I got things to do, art to work on, friends to help.
Banks to rob.

Discovery: The Six Missing Weeks/ Chapter (1/6): The Size of the Wave

Description: After the Snow Queen is defeated and Gold banishment, Emma and Killian spend six glorious, uninterrupted weeks together, exploring each other and deepening their connection (in and out of the bedroom). (Set between the end of 4A and the beginning of 4B)

Rating: E (duh) 

Word Count: ~3.1K 

Author’s Note: It’s like 11 days late, but it’s finally here. Happy (Super Freaking Belated) Birthday, Heather, aka @fergus80! You are such an incredible writer, and an even more amazing friend. I’m so lucky to have you in my life. You already know what’s coming, but apparently my beta wanted more, so this will end up being a 6-part series, ya’ll. You can fully blame @shipsxahoy for that one. Also, thank you to @spartanguard for also taking a gander at this. 

Also on AO3


How was it that their first date happened just a week ago? It seemed like a lifetime had passed. Well, between battling an evil Snow Queen AND rescuing Killian’s heart from Gold, the days just seem to blend together. Emma didn’t recall taking a single calming breath until the moment Belle told her that she banished Gold over the town line using his dagger. She didn’t say it in so many words, but she was proud of Belle for standing up for her self-worth.

Emma walked towards her office in the sheriff’s office the morning after with a smile on her face and her head held high because for the moment, nothing was terrorizing her town. But, before she could get to the door, her father called out to her.

“There’s a note on your desk. Mail guy was by earlier.”

“Thanks.” She just assumed it was a bill that was due, so she slowly made her way behind her desk. When she noticed the flowy script on the front of the envelope that simply read, “Swan,” she knew who it was from immediately. She opened the wax-sealed envelope and sat down gradually in her chair to read.

It has been but a week since our first official date, and while there might have been many distractions between then and now, I can honestly say it was one of the most wonderful nights of my life (and I have had many).

And now, that we seemingly have a quiet moment, I would like to ask you one more time: Will you go out with me again?

Leave your response with Granny. I will be by before sundown.

I await your answer, Emma.

Yours,

KJ

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Chapter Ten: The Water-Jug

For three long days I remained locked in the small cell. It was not so terrible. I still hurt everywhere from the beating I had endured, and I grew hungry from want of food (what little I was given was never enough) but the deadening effect of the curse left me as indifferent to suffering as to hope, and with nothing else to do I sat dully on the wooden bench against the wall and marked the time by the distant chiming of the grandfather clock. The room was bare except for that bench, though eventually someone brought me water for (of course) washing. I saw no one, but my heart was too emptied out and dreary to miss human company. Our bold plans for escape, so recently uppermost in my thoughts, seemed very far away.

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I came to you and asked, “What’s wrong?“
But you looked down and said nothing,
so I turned myself to look at the mirror;
I saw a restless face,
full cheeks but without bloom,
a gaze without any hint of hope,
red lips but eyes in gloom.
I feel troubled, you don’t call me beautiful anymore.
You don’t call me beautiful anymore
as though the syllables have vanished in your vocabulary
as though the definition has been deleted from your memory
as though you’re silently proclaiming I no longer have the beauty.
They call me pretty.
They say I’m lovely.
But what anyone else has to say doesn’t matter.
You know why?
Because you don’t call me beautiful anymore.


- karen-ruth

SeaCon VIP Experience.

I was lucky enough to win an auction for a VIP experience at SeaCon and had no real idea about what it would be like. Thanks to @spnbitchnomore and @theoverlordmisha for getting back to me when I had questions as well as a user on youtube (who I have no idea how to message back there, I’m sorry!). The convention held about 1900 people and I was one of ten VIPs. We were given a conference room to ourselves, our own coordinator who took us places and helped us keep organized, ordered lunch for us, and was overall an amazing woman. The VIP distinction came with front of the line perks for everything, a swag bag, as well as getting to meet all thirteen actors who were there from the show. They ranged from people who have been in just a couple of episodes to stars Jared and Jensen.

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anonymous asked:

What pic of Granny Ruth and a little newborn are we talking about? I haven't seen it on my dash.

Anonymous said: Ruth had pics of her and “Freddie” (the ones from the hospital) on her facebook before January 2016….

@vivillonkisses-and-amwishes submitted: So I just cringed myself into a new century trying to find the pic (in case anyone wanted to compare and contrast), the left is the grandma Ruth pic that she had on FB BEFORE Freddie’s official birth and claimed it to be Freddie at one point when the fans began to question why none of the ‘great-grandmothers’ or extended family met the baby. The Right is one we were given from Briana and Freddie’s ‘time in the hospital’ of Austin 'meeting’ Freddie for the first time, I think from Tammi’s IG.

________________________

YIKES

Bubonicon Wrap-up

I have just returned from a very good time in New Mexico! My assistant Julie  and I went out for Bubonicon, but before we plunged into con madness, my friend Jane Lindskold, and her archaeologist husband Jim showed us and artist Ruth Sanderson around a bit. We visited Albuquerque’s Old Town (native arts jewelry!) and the Rattlesnake Museum. The snakes are gorgeous–a nation-wide collection of rattlers and other snakes, with tortoises, a few spiders, and a scorpion thrown in. The animals looked to be very well cared for, and when they are milked for venom, the venom goes to the creation of antivenin and research. A wonderful place to see!

Afterwards we went to see petroglyphs. I saw some, but tanked out early due to heat sickness. 8-P Still, I also saw a squirrel (in the desert, the brave fellow), a ground chuck, and a small chipmunk. And a roadrunner! He even came by and posed for Julie and Jim to get photos! I was also able to talk to Jim about local geology among other things.

After lunch, return to the hotel, shower, and brief collapse (it is hot there, though Jane and Jim told us they’d been getting lots of rain, which meant that everything that could flower around us was doing so immediately), it was on to the con. I’d like to say I disgraced myself at opening ceremonies, but Toastmistress Mary Robinette Kowal beat me hands down with a phone sex reading of the names of the others in attendance!

Julie and I had such a *wonderful* time! The hotel staff was delightful (not always the case). I sat on panels with Mary Robinette Kowal and Ruth Sanderson, as well as Catherynne Valente (the theme was Women of Valor, which was why the four of us where there). I said hello to George R.R. Martin (if he remembered that I’d once asked when the next book was due, was gentleman enough not to mention it!), was too shy to tell Daniel Abraham how much I love the way he writes heroic women in his current series, and greeted Doranna Durgin (present with a service beagle) and S.M. and Jan Stirling, all three of whom had contributed to the YOUNG WARRIORS anthology (which is still in print).

And I met and talked with fans, two of whom gave me works of art, one of whom had made a box of DELICIOUS Tortall doughnuts with darkings, Stormwings, Kitten, and shield devices in icing. I also met a group of fans who had dressed up as different characters (Nawat offered me a gummy worm, which I ate, of course!). I was so thrilled and overwhelmed! They were in the costume show later, and I stood up and clapped wildly for them all. They were wonderful–all the fans, and all of my fellow pros, were absolutely wonderful. So was Julie, who snarked at me at vital moments, made certain I was fed and watered, sent in the most recent installment on her master’s thesis, and had a good time of her own.

This is a great small (but growing) con, folks. If you’re ever around New Mexico at the end of August, check out Bubonicon. It’s a blast!

anonymous asked:

CS dialogue prompt: "Are you kidding me?! We're not 'fine'!"

Hi! So I am so so so sorry this took me so long (this prompt has been in my inbox since around the finale) and I’m not sure if this is what you were looking for, but enjoy some Lieutenant Duckling with a splash of Captain Liam and King David for fun :)


We Are Not Fine

They had been walking for hours. It was nearly dark, and neither the sixteen year old princess, nor the nineteen year old lieutenant had spoken a word to each other in quite some time.

It was supposed to be a nice day. Killian had just returned from sea, and this was going to be their reunion. He had planned to have a picnic with her on the beach, just the two of them, but of course, someone had recognized her. He should have known really, that it would be impossible to take the swan princess out of the castle without being swarmed by her people.

It had been exciting at first, leaving behind his jacket, the food and their shoes in favor of running off into the forest just off the shore. Then again, neither of them had expected to get lost.

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