Repose

[Near 9PM, a miniature explosion rocks the trailer park and scars the night sky with an angry sear of red. A single-wide, near the front of the park, goes up in flames. The lone occupant makes it out safe, if shaken and slightly scorched. She's taken downtown and given space in the station as first responders attempt to decipher the cause of the fire. No one else is harmed and no other trailer is so much as singed.]

Who: Dante & Kratos
What: Car problems
When: Before Christmas!
Where: Road side
Ratings/Warnings: Language.

( If there had just been a little more left to it they probably could have restored it. It would have been a challenge, taken some time, but it would have been doable... And Dante had always liked challenges. )

[Public.]

Hey! Your friendly neighborhood mechanic. As long as you're not Alison Jonstone, you can fucking rot in the hellfi

Remember as we get into continuously colder months that cats and other small animals may try to hide under cars and near warm engines, exhausts or other things. Normally, this won't be a problem 99% of the time but if something seems weird with your vehicle pay a little more attention.

Keep in mind that as the temperature drops it will impact your tire pressure as well. From a site quick: "A good estimate is for every 10° fluctuation in air temperature, vehicle tire pressure will adjust by about 1 psi. So if outside air temperature decreases 30° from your last tire pressure adjustment, expect tire pressure to drop about 3 psi." - Keep an eye on this through the winter and make sure to check it regularly.

[Locked: Christmas & NYE Party People.]

You were all awesome. Thanks for spending your holiday with my dad and I! ♥

[Locked: Atticus]

We're not going with the convertible option. After running the numbers I'd be too concerned about the structural stability while under high pressure isn't something anyone should chance while going over 200mph. It's do-able but the longtime deterioration of the materials would require a large overhaul at a later date and there'd also be the risk of assuring the roof didn't have a technical difficulty and just rip right the fuck off while you're flying down winding roads.

[Locked: Holly]

How about rainbow LED's on your brace? Cool? Or too gay? ;)

[Locked: Chris]

I'm calling in clubbing for the end of this month.

[Locked: Leena]

Gonna be super busy next couple weeks, sorry for... idefk, whatever dumb shit I do. not really being free.

[(TIME FUZZ. So it happens whenever it's convenient for you.)

The contents of the first apartment of the music store, whose only occupant is currently the white cat Mimi, has been lately altered. The changes are subtle and take a moment to notice, but anyone who goes in there often enough might figure out what is different about this picture, if they weren't distracted by more monumental events.

The furniture is unaltered, the great bed with its missing canopy still a king of white duvet and fluffy pillows, the stout bookshelves still crammed with old books forced in at all angles. Daniel's various odds and ends are still largely housed in wood crates the size of steamer trunks stacked somewhat haphazardly against one wall. Blue tea towels still hang from the oven door. The reading lamp is still plugged in over the big armchair, and the chipped mugs and silver tea set are all still in place, if a bit dusty. Mimi's toys are still scattered about, and her litterbox is in the otherwise untouched bathroom.

However, the microwave is gone. So is the phone charger, which used to be by the bed. The record player is gone, and the radio too. There's a straight razor hidden in a drawer instead of an electric one charging on the bathroom sink. Rather than the old brick of a laptop computer, there's now a manual typewriter in astonishingly good condition with a strange linen-paper sheet set onto the roller. The sheet is blank. The typewriter doesn't have a plug, but it clicks every now and then, as if waiting.

All the modern newspapers that used to stack up by the door are gone. So are the magazines. And the paperback novels--and in fact, anything published after Queen Victoria's death is MIA. The place feels kind of spacious... and anticipatory.]

It was not Death, for I stood up,
And all the Dead, lie down -
It was not Night, for all the Bells
Put out their Tongues, for Noon.

It was not Frost, for on my Flesh
I felt Siroccos - crawl -
Nor Fire - for just my marble feet
Could keep a Chancel, cool -

And yet, it tasted, like them all,
The Figures I have seen
Set orderly, for Burial
Reminded me, of mine -

As if my life were shaven,
And fitted to a frame,
And could not breathe without a key,
And ’twas like Midnight, some -

When everything that ticked - has stopped -
And space stares - all around -
Or Grisly frosts - first Autumn morns,
Repeal the Beating Ground -

But most, like Chaos - Stopless - cool -
Without a Chance, or spar -
Or even a Report of Land -
To justify - Despair.

-Emily Dickinson

[The call comes after 9PM. Normally, by then, Noah would be in the room at the B&B, watching Netflix or whatever. Not tonight.]

[Call: Holly NW]
[RING!]