old satchel


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.

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 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.

Between Towers
By Organization for Transformative Works

Fest: RS Games 2017: Team Remus

Author: alwaysalready (tigrrmilk)
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 8,857
Type: Magic!AU, University!AU

Summary: Through the doorway at the end of the entrance hall, he could see a wide portion of the small quad ahead. Green and lush. It was early October, and the sun was shining, thank the lord. Or at least thank Merlin. It was Michaelmas. And Remus was taking up a place at Oxford to study English.

Comments: Gorgeously written and incredibly magical. I love the atmosphere of Oxford, and mixed in with magic, it comes alive in a sparkling, mystical way. Remus’ struggles with connecting, and discovering magic, friends, and a place of belonging, was beautifully done. I’m really glad I read this one.

Favorite Quote: 

Remus thought about the books of folklore and history and old, old charms in his satchel. He thought about the brittle plastic cases wrapped around them, and the way they would crinkle under his fingers. It was a sensation he could conjure up – like James and the thermos, like Sirius and the garden.

And again, the sky felt like it was blooming, and the garden felt like it was flowering, and Remus was almost ready to choke on the heady summer air. Old, old air.

But he didn’t. Not quite.

closed starter / @delusionaliisms

it was around 8 pm, usually the time you’d find arlo already getting ready for bed, clad in pj’s and fully prepared to watch reruns or something. not tonight, though. turns out he’s a human and he gets hungry like one too, and the frozen pizzas and lack of edible material (he still hasn’t done his shopping) in his fridge really, really wouldn’t cut it tonight. so, with keys in hand, he’s locking up the contents of his humble shop, the one given to him, passed down if you will. it’s his pride and joy, it’s all tulips and sun shining through blinds and his true happy place. he’d gush all about it right now if his stomach wasn’t distracting him so relentlessly. a blissful sigh that seemed a lot louder at night on the usually quiet cobbled street, keys twisting and locking – a little wriggle at the handle just to be sure. he taps the handle three times precisely for good luck. then he’s picking his bag back up, some old brown satchel thing he found thrifting, and throws it over his shoulder, strap gripped. 


Hello everyone, I’m posting from a mac which is very confusing hence the briefness. The place we’re staying at is lovely so we took some photos in the front yard today <3 I hope everyone’s enjoying the holidays, I for one will be quite sad when my little staycation with moosh is over!


ASOS Co ord, similar here in tartan  //  Vintage silk blouse  //  Tabbisocks over knee socks  //  Clarks brogues via the most wonderful Marie <3  //  Old Modcloth satchel 

The werecat was right: this is stupid


Gravity Falls was a sleepy town. Which….. was a nice change from the constantly awake Berk.

Still….. looking around it was like a reverse version of his home…. Berk was loud and rough…. this place was like where grandparents considered retiring.

Hiccup was stuck because Stoick seemed to be needed here and already was somehow busy finishing neglected works in this small town.

So that left Hiccup to Explore.

Back in Berk he could wander the greens, look for trolls and pretend there were dragons and fae. He even practiced sword play, sure it was a bit whimsical for a Seventeen year old now a small satchel filled with a sketchbook, notebook and colored pencils. A beanie and headphones on, Toothless at his side (honestly the greatest cat in the world, his loyal best friend that looked like a werewolf, truely an honorary familiar, as toothless would pure and meow in agreement)

He would always be stopped short from getting into the forest now.

People would either stop him fear in their eyes.

“It is unsafe! No one lives in there!”

Or with genuine arrogance and anger.

“You are not permitted to enter!” Hiccup would raise an eyebrow.

“And why not?”

“The owner of the forest does not allow strangers in the forest!” Hiccup rolled his eyes…. well meeting the owner was an adventure as any…. besides maybe it was just PART of the forest.

“Then I must meet him!” Hiccup smiled happily, utter bull shit but it got the answer he wanted.

So off he went towards the mansion of the forest.

Gleeful mansion.

God’s more like dreadful. Hiccup watched the Lyokai cat take a head start, head up and body tight as it moved and stalked scoping the area.

Hiccup let him.

What animal could be dangerous enough to harm his cat and not be outwitted and scratched?

Toothless found the answer in a tent.

His hackles high as he made a low growling nose and back away.

Submitted by Nathan Beers

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I am a home-based analyst, and most days I walk or ride my motorcycle down to a park or coffee shop to work. I have everything I might need in this bag for work or play and it all weighs in at less than 13 lbs. A few notes on these items: -I ALWAYS have the Architect Wallet (with Space Pen and Moleskine notebook), iPhone with case, and Leatherman on my person. The rest still comes with me everywhere I go, but could be 10-15’ away at any given time. I have Tile locators on my bag, bluetooth speaker, and glasses case (this last one has been a real lifesaver!) -I searched for years for a bag to replace an old satchel I’d sewn back together half a dozen times over the past 10 years and finally settled on this Bluboon Backpack. I love the style, it’s fairly small while still able to carry everything I need, and it cost less than $40! I have had to strengthen a few of the stitches, but it’s worth it! -The Maxpedition Micro Pocket Organizer contains toiletry and first aid hand items. -The 145g Discraft is by far the best small size frisbee I have ever used. It flies as well as a regulation size 175g disc, but saves space in my bag. -The Eno Sub7 is a new release hammock that weighs just 6.9oz, less than half the weight of their Singlenest. It’s perfect for a go bag! -The Matador is another new find. It’s a super compact picnic blanket. Perfect for keeping in my bag and throwing out on some damp grass. -I’ve hacked the car keys and mounted a transponder on the steering column so that I can use a plain metal key without the plastic head. This allows me to fit my keys into the super compact True Utility Key Shackle. -I’ll often throw in my AEO Vintage Denim Western Shirt which works great as a stylish and comfortable extra layer when needed. -Any recommendations on a more compact umbrella?

AU where Darcy is Thranduil's wife part 1 the meeting

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather one of the servants go down instead?” Jane worriedly fussed as she wrapped a cloak around her friend’s shoulders. The once astrophysicist insisted on helping her friend dress much to the displeasure of the maids hanging about.

In the corner of her eye, Darcy nudged her head and made the maids huff and leave. With no audience to reprimand them, Darcy turned to address her best friend, boss and now Queen.

“Janey,” Darcy began and Jane relaxed a bit, becoming royalty had prevented the easy informal way the two interacted into something stiff outside bed chambers, “I haven’t been to Earth since your wedding. Going to the liquor store shouldn’t be that hard.”

“I know,” Jane admitted, fiddling with a loose seam in her dress, “but Thor’s reports talk of a civil war.”

And that’s the crux of the issue. Had there not been large tensions between between the founding members of the Avengers, Jane wouldn’t be forced to stay in Asgard. But alas there was tension and a surprise pregnancy which made Jane reluctantly ask her friend to do this favor for her.

Grabbing her queen’s hands, which were once calloused from hauling her own scientific equipment and were now as soft as a baby’s bottom, in her own, Darcy could only comfort her.

“It’s a simple pick up, you said you were craving chocolate,” Darcy’s tone was light and teasing.

“If it’s so simple, then I shall have one of the servants do it, Darcy.” Jane regally mocked, her stoic face breaking as the two giggled.

Darcy rolled her eyes and pulled a proper curtsy, and snobbishly replied.

“As the head handmaiden of the Queen of Asgard, it is my duty to fulfill all of your wishes.”

“By Einstein, Darcy you are beginning to sound like them!” Jane snorted in a manner ill-fitting the Queen. 

“By Einstein? Who even says that Jane?” Darcy smirked. She guided her friend to her bed as she looked for her old satchel. 

“I’m the Queen! I can say whatever I want!” Jane pouted as she laid on the bed. The Queen of the Stars and Science idly watched her friend scurry around grabbing little things like old credit cards, cash, and her taser all of which wasn’t needed in Asgard but needed for a trip to earth.

“As my lady commands.” Darcy sarcastically says.  Satisfied with what she placed in her bag, Darcy stretches her hand out to help her friend out of the bed.

The two women exit the private chambers and head towards the Bifrost with several handmaidens trailing the Queen and head handmaiden. 

“Heimdall.” Jane nodded her head at the Watcher of the Realms.

“My Queen.” Heimdall deeply bowed.

“Hurry back and be careful, you understand?” Jane’s brow furrowed and she hugged her friend tightly.

“Whoa, my lady, it’s just a quick trip to Earth and back.” Darcy hugged her friend and threw a confused glance to Heimdall who simple stared back.

“I’m serious Darce. I have this weird feeling and given the things we’ve been through together, I want you to be careful.” Darcy raised a brow but nodded as she listened to her friend. Squeezing her friend once last time, Darcy moved away and calls out, 

“Beam me down, Scotty.”

Bright colors engulfed Darcy and blinded all but Heimdall from Darcy’s departure.


Once her vision was cleared, Darcy immediately noticed one thing. She was not any where near a damned connivence store, or even a town.

“What the hell?” Darcy swore.

Green. Green. Green. Green everywhere. Green leaves, green plants, trees higher than any trees she has every seen, including the trees found in Alfheim.

Looking from side to side, Darcy could not see any signs of civilization, perhaps Heimdall dropped her off in the wrong place?

No, Darcy immediately thinks, Heimdall doesn’t put you in the wrong place. Pulling her shoulders back, Darcy took a deep breath and began moving in one direction. Only one thought ran through her mind.

If Heimdall wasn’t wrong where on earth, if it was earth, could she be?


Thranduil’s mind was filled with grief. His father, his king, his only remaining kin was gone. Gone until Thranduil sailed west. Surveying the remaining soldiers, the newly crowned king, Thranduil was tempted to join his family. How was he to rule the Greenwood if his father was not there to guide him?

The survivors of the Battle of Dagorlad wearily marched back to their homes in the wood. Their once glistening armor, and proud countenance was wilted. Not even the healing of Imladris could ease their weary souls in the way that Greenwood the Great could.

As the company neared the forest they called home, Thranduil felt his entire being slightly relaxing. The Greenwood King called out to his soldiers and felt his lips curl a little as his people cheered and began to sing. Perhaps things would be better now that they were back in the safety of the wood.


“Fuck the woods!” Darcy snarled as she tripped over a lifted root. 

The head handmaiden had been wandering around lost in the forest for several hours and she had yet to see an exit. If it were not for the extensive training she received as being the only intern for a scientist and a queen, Darcy would have given up in exhaustion ages ago. Still, after pushing branches away from her face, Darcy’s body felt fatigue.

“I swear when I see Heimdall I will kick his ass.” Darcy promised to herself as she stopped in front of a tree. 

Kicking her impractical flats off, Darcy picked up the hems of her dress and swiftly sat down at the base of the trunk.

Leaning her head against the hard tree, Darcy was unaware of the creature that followed her through the forest. She failed to hear the hissing as fangs grew.


The river was in sight. Thranduil signaled for the company to stop and got off his mount and brought it to the river.

With the river here, our home is but a few hours away, Thranduil thought. A few of the elves knelt at the river to take sips of water. Others were talking in low tones, and the rest with singing mournful songs as they thought of their fallen kin.

When one of his personal guards hands him a cloth to scrub away the grim that accumulated on his face, Thranduil gracefully moved away from his company and towards a more private end of the river.

Had he not been there, Thranduil would have never heard the muffled screams that echoed in his woods.


Darcy’s heart pounded so violently in her chest, she was certain that it would launch itself at the giant spider in a suicidal attempt.

Never taking her eyes off the damned eight legged creature, Darcy groped at her satchel looking for something to use. 

To her dismay, the creature was slowly crawling ever close making Darcy shiver at the thought of the hairy legs coming anywhere near her body.

A quick glance downwards at her bag showed nothing that would be of use…except her old car keys. She wrapped her fingers around it and pointed the sharp (though it was really dull) edges towards the spider.

Recognizing what little threat the shiny sticks in the woman’s hands were, the spider scurried rapidly towards the cowering female ready to devour her.

Until a long, sharp, glimmering blade sliced the damned thing in half.

Darcy opened her eyes, (when did she close them?), and was amazed at the sight before her.

A man, tall and lithe with long flowing locks stood triumphantly over the defeated spider. Placing a booted heel on the spider, the man wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and yanked it out.

Darcy had to rub her eyes before she realized that yes the man was glowing with a warm light engulfing him.

“Are you hurt?” Thranduil tilted his head and glanced at the mortal woman in concern. 

“What did you say?” Darcy crinkled her brow. That wasn’t any language she knew.

“What sort of mortal does not understand Westron?” Thranduil asked himself as he cautiously came closer to the shaking woman.

“Fucking hell, he’s hotter than Thor.” Darcy stilled as the man knelt in front of her.

The blond held his hands out in a non threatening manner and began speaking in an airy language that lulled Darcy into a calm state. 

Shaking her head when the man threw another question at her, Darcy began to rise from where she had been sitting. 

Placing her hands on her chest, Darcy slowly said, “Darcy.”

Then she pointed her hand at the blond’s chest. The man’s eyes widened when he realized what she was trying to convey.

“Thranduil.” He mimicked the woman. 

thedoctoryouwerentexpecting  asked:

Have you any Eight During the time war headcanons?

  • When Eight tells Molly “I don’t want to be fighting a war”, it’s as much a cry for help as it is him admitting to himself that the war is inevitable. 
  • He runs into Destriianatos once, much older and still gorgeous and oh-so-clever, and she’s leading a massive interstellar resistance faction against the Dalek forces. He’s so proud of her when he sees how agreeable she’s become. But she hasn’t changed, not really, she’s still the same old Destrii, and he realises with some horror that she hasn’t become more like him, he has become more like her. 
  • During “Legacy”, the earlier Doctors mostly just stay the hell away from Eight and don’t even want to know what happened to him to make him that bitter. After Eight quietly befriends Rory in Apalapucia, the two of them end up spending of lot of time together, and they try to get through the whole adventure without getting too close to anyone else — they’re wise enough to know that they’re not going to remember any of this Sontaran time crash weirdness anyway once it’s over.
  • The night he collapsed into the arms of his younger self at lake Geneva, seeing this happy bouncy cheerful Doctor with all his fancy clothes and his hair and his smile, and knowing that he’d never be that person again — until he met Cass, that was the worst night of his life. 
  • He keeps Nyssa’s old interocitor in his satchel. Always. He never listens to Lucie’s message anymore, but it’s there. 
  • He still visits Grace occasionally. It stops being fun when the stars they used to watch together fade slowly from existence, one by one. She doesn’t notice. He doesn’t tell her. 
  • Sometimes, just sometimes, he wonders how Davros is doing.
  • And many centuries later, on the Sunlight Worlds, Eleven comes really, really close to just punching the Dalek Time Controller right in the plunger.