update from sparkleup

.tags

@@ -9,30 +9,39 @@ erotica	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece
 erotica	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#erotica
 erotica	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#erotica
 erotica	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#erotica
+family	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#family
 family	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#family
 family	writing/sawtooth/youre-gone.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/youre-gone\twriting/sawtooth/youre-gone#family
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#fiction
+fiction	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/index\twriting/sawtooth/index
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#fiction
+fiction	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#fiction
 fiction	writing/sawtooth/youre-gone.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/youre-gone\twriting/sawtooth/youre-gone#fiction
 flash-fiction	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#flash-fiction
 furry	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#furry
+furry	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 furry	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#furry
+furry	writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians\twriting/sawtooth/happy-lesbians
 furry	writing/sawtooth/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/index\twriting/sawtooth/index
 furry	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#furry
+furry	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#furry
 furry	writing/sawtooth/youre-gone.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/youre-gone\twriting/sawtooth/youre-gone#furry
 gender	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#gender
+gender	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#gender
+in-progress	writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians\twriting/sawtooth/happy-lesbians
+incomplete	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 kink	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#kink
 magic	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#magic
 mental-health	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#mental-health
@@ -41,36 +50,46 @@ mental-health	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtoot
 movement	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#movement
 polyam	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#polyam
 romance	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#romance
+romance	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 romance	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#romance
 romance	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#romance
 romance	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#romance
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#sawtooth
+sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#sawtooth
+sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians\twriting/sawtooth/happy-lesbians
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/index\twriting/sawtooth/index
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#sawtooth
+sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#sawtooth
 sawtooth	writing/sawtooth/youre-gone.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/youre-gone\twriting/sawtooth/youre-gone#sawtooth
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#short-story
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#short-story
+short-story	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#short-story
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#short-story
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#short-story
+short-story	writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians\twriting/sawtooth/happy-lesbians
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#short-story
+short-story	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#short-story
 short-story	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#short-story
 suicide	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#suicide
 universe	writing/sawtooth/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/index\twriting/sawtooth/index
 writing	writing/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/index\twriting/index
 writing	writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment\twriting/sawtooth/a-theory-of-attachment#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/acts-of-intent\twriting/sawtooth/acts-of-intent#writing
+writing	writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/aposematism\twriting/sawtooth/aposematism
 writing	writing/sawtooth/centerpiece.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/centerpiece\twriting/sawtooth/centerpiece#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/disapperance.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/disapperance\twriting/sawtooth/disapperance#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying\twriting/sawtooth/every-angel-is-terrifying#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/fisher.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/fisher\twriting/sawtooth/fisher#writing
+writing	writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians\twriting/sawtooth/happy-lesbians
 writing	writing/sawtooth/index.md	2;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/index\twriting/sawtooth/index
 writing	writing/sawtooth/overclassification.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/overclassification\twriting/sawtooth/overclassification#writing
+writing	writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/the-fool\twriting/sawtooth/the-fool#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/what-defines-us\twriting/sawtooth/what-defines-us#writing
 writing	writing/sawtooth/youre-gone.md	3;"	vimwiki:writing/sawtooth/youre-gone\twriting/sawtooth/youre-gone#writing

writing/sawtooth/aposematism.md

@@ -0,0 +1,63 @@
+%title Aposematism
+:writing:fiction:incomplete:short-story:sawtooth:furry:romance:
+
+## Notes
+
+* Skunk - Kira - ascerbic personality, violent and punky?
+* Dog - Riley - overly kind, maybe some problems with codependency?
+
+* Meet at boardgame night
+* Riley digs on Kira, ropes them into a date
+* ???
+* Profit
+* Except not actually profit
+* They kinda get close but Kira does something kinda stupid and scares of Riley
+* Musing on aposematism as self-defeatism
+
+Per Kord
+
+> She gets drunk, angry and blames him for soemthing another dog did to her years ago, and sprays him in a drunken fit ? Like say she was young and one picked on her and stuff in school, its why she is how she is currently. And because of this, it creates her personality complex, due to the hateful way she was treated by a dog, and Riley might have a superficial similiarty, like same speices.
+
+## Story
+
+"Alright, bid phase."
+
+Kira scowled down at their hand, their pile of tokens in ones and fives, and listened to the bids go around the table. Once more, when the bid reached them, they were out of their price range. They had the cash, but not if they still wanted to purchase the ornithopter card down the line.
+
+"Pass," they grumbled.
+
+The dog to their left picked up the lasgun, dopey grin plastered to his muzzle.
+
+Kira sank deeper into their seat.
+
+"Bidding phase ends," the *de facto* leader of the game called, and then once more ran through an explanation of the movement phase of the game.
+
+While this kind of territory control game one of Kira's top choices, it also featured this bidding component, something which brought out a fiercely competitive streak in them. They didn't like who they were when they were bidding, when they were always thinking about how to build some ideal hand with which they'd deal a crushing blow.
+
+It stole reason from them. It turned their tactics on their heads and left them more frustrated than any game without might otherwise.
+
+They should have just bowed out.
+
+"Hey. You ready for movement?"
+
+The skunk jolted upright in their seat and scrambled to get their cards in order, the dog to their left giving an apologetic sort of grin for having startled them out of their reverie.
+
+"Yeah, sorry. Uh...I'd like to beam two down to Bled and then move one space to the south." *If I'd had the ornithopter, I could have moved three,* they continued silently.
+
+"Alright that'll be six," Avery, head of the transit guild, murmured, the mountain lion's brow furrowed as he read through his notes. "Though I'll let you do it for five if you turn east after that."
+
+Kira peered down at the board from above, taking stock of where all of the pieces were. A small concentration of their forces lay to the southwest, but so did a few of the transit guild's scattered forces.
+
+"And I'll pay for half your transit costs if you don't turn east," the dog countered.
+
+"And what, not attack you?"
+
+That canine grin once more. "Yep."
+
+Kira nodded thoughtfully, then reached over with a ring bedecked paw, the drape of their sleeve scattering neatly-stacked money chips, and offered to shake on it. "Deal."
+
+The mountain lion scowled, but accepted three chips each from Kira and the dog --- some breed with long, golden-colored fur --- before placing the skunk's chips on the square marked *The Bled* and scooting them one space to the south.
+
+The game continued apace. With each turn Kira and the dog's alliance grew stronger and Avery's frustration more apparent. By the fifth round, when it was possible to form concrete allegiances in the game, it was only natural that Kira and Riley would form one.
+
+They won handily. Kira even got their ornithopter.

writing/sawtooth/happy-lesbians.md

@@ -0,0 +1,183 @@
+%title untitled happy lesbians
+:writing:in-progress:short-story:sawtooth:furry:
+
+## Notes
+
+Lesbians whomst happy???
+
+* Winter - lynx - gig economy Simpletask (fiverr) and GetThere (uber, lyft), etc
+* Katrin - Arctic fox - owns a scandanavian restaurant in town
+* conflict: Winter loses her job as a manager at a supermarket and has to go into gig economy stuff, finds out how hard it is, strain on relationship? But they pull through because they're rly cool lesbians
+
+Gig Economy Problems
+* A lot of standby time. Have to be available without necessarily having any tasks - splitting time between Simpletask and GetThere only works so well.
+* No representation
+
+## Story
+
+*Well, shit.*
+
+Winter trudged heavily through the piles of dead leaves lining the gutter, the lynx's broad paws crunching through them. There was a sidewalk, but this wasn't a mood for sidewalks. This wasn't a mood for keeping clean, staying out of the way. This was a proper sulk.
+
+She pulled her phone out for the umpteenth time and thumbed at the screen, tapping out yet another message to Katrin that she wouldn't send. Deleted message. Put phone away.
+
+A low growl started in her chest, rose, crescendoed, and she let out a brief yell. No words, just a vent of frustration. Birds startled from the tree beside her.
+
+It didn't help.
+
+"Making a damn fool of yourself," she grumbled. "Twice over."
+
+She hesitated on the corner of Linden and 18th, stopping mid-stride and staring down the street. She should turn. She should turn left and walk the next two blocks. She should head up the stairs. She should open the door, set her phone down, change out of her clothes --- clothes she'd now have to return to the market --- clean up, start cooking.
+
+She should tell Katrin what happened. She should look for a new job.
+
+"Shit," she repeated, this time aloud, and kept walking straight. Five blocks to the plaza. She'd grab a coffee, sit on one of the benches. Watch the early afternoon crowds putter along the mall.
+
+Or maybe she shouldn't grab a coffee. Maybe she should be saving her money.
+
+She kept walking.
+
+She got her coffee.
+
+She sat, and she watched.
+
+-----
+
+Katrin and Winter stood still heads bowed, both searching through their thoughts.
+
+Winter couldn't guess at her wife's thoughts. The fox was always so inscrutable. Winter would sometimes watch her face while the vixen worked, the blank mask of pure white, punctuated with only the pitch-black nose, those darkest-brown eyes, and try to decide if the inscrutable part was the white fur or some sort of Scandinavian magic.
+
+Today, she couldn't tell. Katrin's matte-white fur reflected light so well that there were no shadows to reflect her emotions. And yet, there was still something foreign to those features. The almond-shaped eyes, the blunt muzzle, the ears almost hidden in thick fur.
+
+Perhaps another Swede would be able to read that face, to say what Katrin was feeling, but not Winter. Not right now.
+
+"And they didn't give any recourse?" The fox looked up to Winter. "Just *come pick up your last paycheck and drop off your shirts*?"
+
+The lynx nodded. "Just that. Mr Stevenson just said he couldn't keep both managers on board, and, well, Kayla's his daughter."
+
+Katrin nodded and slid her paw across the countertop to twine her fingers with the lynx's. "I understand. I'm sorry, love."
+
+"It's okay." Winter sighed and gave those fingers a gentle squeeze in her own. Even with the flour still clinging clinging to her wife's fur, even with the coarseness of her pads, worn from so much kneading of dough, they seemed so delicate in her thick-furred mitts. "I'll start looking tomorrow."
+
+"Okay. Let me know if you need any help, I'll do what I can."
+
+The lynx nodded.
+
+"It'll be okay, love. I promise." Her smile was tired, but warm all the same.
+
+-----
+
+(A week goes by of job hunting, Katrin suggests Winter try contracting, Winter decides on gig economy)
+
+Gone were the days of sitting up at the kitchen table, circling help-wanted ads in the newspaper. Hell, gone were the days of the newspaper, it felt like.
+
+Instead, Winter grew addicted to job posting boards, both local to her town and some that ran on a wider scale. Once she got her résumé all fixed up, she started flooding local stores with it, starting with all of the local grocers --- as Stevenson's had been --- and then broadening her search to related retail outlets.
+
+And then unrelated.
+
+Then non-retail positions.
+
+She would work in shifts, spending an hour prowling through postings, then spending five minutes making sure her files were in order, then another two hours applying. The act of uploading a résumé to a site that promised to read all it could from it, then required her to fill in all that information again in form fields became rote, numbing.
+
+There were a few calls back, but more often than not, the response was silence. It was starting to feel futile. It was starting to feel like hollering into the void. She would click submit on yet another application, and it would just...go away. It would go nowhere.
+
+She had set herself a week to exhaust all of the usual application channels. On the third or fourth day, she started driving around to stores and dropping off paper copies of her applications as well.
+
+It was on one of those outings towards the end of her timeboxed week that she first noticed the ride share sticker in someone's window.
+
+-----
+
+(Honeymoon phase with driving and odd jobs)
+"Winter? For Malina?"
+
+"Yep, that's me," the lynx replied cheerfully.
+
+"Great!" The badger hauled a few sacks of groceries into the back seat and slid in after them. "Thanks so much for the ride. Car's in the shop and all."
+
+"Oh, no worries." Winter waited for Malina to get herself buckled in before tapping at the GetThere app on her phone to set the satnav to navigate to the badger's destination. "Hopefully nothing expensive?"
+
+Malina laughed. "Shouldn't be. One of those warranty things. A part recall or something. I'm out a car for a day or two, but at least I don't have to pay for it."
+
+"No loaner, then? Do they even still do that?"
+
+"I'm not sure, honestly. They might. But either way, I'm within walking distance from work, so I figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal." With a wry smile, she added, "I just wasn't counting on having to do a grocery run for work. Starts getting cold out, and we start mowing through milk."
+
+Winter slid the car back into traffic --- mercifully light today --- and started down the road back toward 13th. "Fair enough. Where do you work, that you go through milk so fast?"
+
+"A coffee shop. The Book and the Bean, on the plaza. There's a few shops within walking distance that sell dairy, but none of them sell the more exotic milks, so I have to head further out. Easy enough to walk there, but I'm not hauling all of this back."
+
+"Oh, yeah! I know the one. My wife's restaurant is just down the block." She grinned. "I doubt those bags are light, though, yeah."
+
+Malina laughed and shook her head. "Not at all."
+
+There were a few moments of silence as Winter negotiated a left turn and the badger in the back seat thumbed through her phone.
+
+"How about you?" came a distracted voice from the back. "Is this your full-time thing? Driving?"
+
+Winter shook her head. "Not exactly. I just started not too long ago doing this and random gigs on Simpletask. Wasn't really my first choice, but it's turning out to be way more fun than I thought it would be."
+
+"Oh yeah? What about it do you like? Setting your own hours?"
+
+"I try to work pretty standard hours, though for me that means working morning rush hour driving, doing some tasks, driving during lunch, more tasks, and then evening rush hour." Winter thought for a moment, then continued, "No, I think the thing I like about it is that it gets me a lot of the best things I liked about retail without the standing all day or dragging boxes around."
+
+In the rear-view mirror, Malina nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Just the meeting people sort of thing?"
+
+"Mmhm. Meeting people, being helpful. People are generally kinder here than they are in stores, too. Most folks are grateful for the rides, and those that aren't having a good day are usually pretty quiet. I don't get many people hollering at me."
+
+Malina laughed. "Oh, I know that one. I used to work in finance, but got sick of it. I figured moving to where I saw people instead of numbers would be easier on the soul. I was mostly right."
+
+"Mostly?"
+
+"Yeah. A lot of people are grateful for coffee, but like you said, those who aren't tend to holler."
+
+Winter took her turn to laugh. "Yep, that's the type. I guess that's what I mean, though. I got good at the sort of happy retail mask that one puts on around them, but I haven't needed it here."
+
+As expected, the drive was a short one. Once they made it to the loading zone at the end of the 13th Street Plaza, Winter helped Malina unload the bags of milk and other sundries from the back of her car.
+
+"Thanks again, Winter," the badger said, loading herself up once again. "Stop in any time."
+
+The lynx nodded and waved before hopping back in her car and turning off the hazard lights.
+
+-----
+
+While the biggest benefit to this new form of employment was the free-form nature of it, that very benefit worked against it. It was up to Winter to schedule her day around the best times for driving, and the best times for working on projects on Simpletask.
+
+However, when Sawtoothians needed rides was unsteady. Sure, there were times when rides were more likely: rush hour, some time over lunch, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. She started keeping track of sporting events, concerts, and conferences.
+
+Some days, Winter would be flooded with rides, and the lynx would dart all over town, picking up passengers of all stripes and driving them to some concert venue or the UI-Sawtooth campus stadium.
+
+And some days, she would be stuck on her laptop at The Book and the Bean --- Malina having convinced her to become a regular --- waiting for either a ride to crop up or a task she was qualified for. Warm days were usually slow, as folks would be more willing to walk or bike. Some days, she'd make seventy percent of the income for the week, and some days, she wouldn't make a thing.
+
+And then there were the customers.
+
+Her experience of folks being grateful for rides held true, as did her experience of folks having a bad day generally simply being quiet. Those types were both easy enough to deal with, if not outright enjoyable. Over time, though, she began to see a wider variety.
+
+Around Thanksgiving, she started making trips too and from the airport and bus station, and families getting off longer trips were rarely happy. She got snapped at more than once by upset fathers trying to wrangle children, and on one occasion, played therapist along with a coyote to a frightened weasel having a panic attack, in town to visit her family and have some complicated-sounding interaction with her ex-husband.
+
+The worst of all were the drunk folks. When she first started driving folks home from bars, it felt good. She was doing a sort of service by keeping tipsy bar-hoppers or plastered sports fans off the road. The first time someone vomited in the back seat, however, her opinion of the task began to sour. It may be nice to keep drunks from driving, but cleaning vomit out of the foot-wells --- thankfully, the dog had managed to miss the seat --- was hardly a pleasant task.
+
+Football games became a source of dread. She wasn't even safe before they began, as she'd haul thoroughly pregamed fans from parties to stadium, groups of students hollering painfully loud, nigh unintelligible, whether from drink or simple in-jokey camaraderie.
+
+The tasks from Simpletask, while a break from the enforced social interaction that was an integral part of driving, were riddled with their own problems. People generally expected that someone driving for GetThere knew what they were doing enough to leave them alone.
+
+Not so with someone performing data entry from scanned documents or making brochures for events. She discovered a particular brand of cruelty that seemed unique to the role of small business owners, which they held in reserve for menial labor.
+
+The lynx lost track of how many times she was called an idiot.
+
+Still, she had to pay the bills, didn't she?
+
+-----
+
+(An argument over something big that happened while driving. Maybe someone said something gross to Winter?)
+Winter don't know how long she sat in the car, forehead resting against the steering wheel, before there was a soft knock at the driver's side window.
+
+"Love?" Katrin's voice was muffled from outside the car.
+
+
+-----
+
+(Winter splits time between looking again and gigs)
+
+-----
+
+(Two weeks after figuring things out, the lesbians are cute again (as if they ever weren't))

writing/sawtooth/the-fool.md

@@ -0,0 +1,339 @@
+%title The Fool
+%date 2017-05-08
+:writing:short-story:fiction:furry:sawtooth:gender:family:
+
+The badger looms over a small table, the short sleeve of her smock tugged down toward the table by a glass candy thermometer. A deck of colorful cards rest neatly stacked on its surface.
+
+Contrary to expectations, the room is bright and spacious. No hint of incense or dark velour drapes, just a simple living room in a simple home, a simple badger and some simple cards. She can't be older than fifty, and she's of a more motherly bent than a mystical one.
+
+*More motherly than my mother, at least*, I think. *More earthy and far less mystical.*
+
+"Tell me about your day, Avery," she begins, and as I speak, she shuffles a worn deck of cards, nodding along with me. She draws cards yan tan tethera, and lays them face up on the table with a casual slowness that does little to distract from my words. Still, my language is stilted, and I find myself tracing the edges of the table with my gaze or watching her paws rather than making eye contact.
+
+"Now," she says when I trail off to an uneasy silence. The badger, the table and cards, a bright room with motes in afternoon sunbeams; an image more meaningful than I anticipated. And me --- dingy clothes draped over a broad frame I never wanted --- out of place. "Here are three cards. Look, and tell me the first thing you notice."
+
+"Notice?" I ask. I sound dubious even to myself.
+
+"Notice," she confirms. "What do you see? When you look at the cards, what jumps out at you? Colors, motions, angles and lines. What do you see?"
+
+I stare at the badger. She stares back, then lets out a kindly laugh and gestures down at the cards.
+
+Three cards, laid out in a line. I move my stare to those, more bewildered than anything, trying to pick out singular things. "From each of them? One at a time?"
+
+She shrugs, smiling not unkindly.
+
+*Odd,* I think. *How such a small task could feel overwhelming.*
+
+I puff out a breath of air, whiskers bristling, and tap at the first card. "Well, this one's upside down, for starters. The, uh...Page of Wands." Digging through memories, I try, "A page is like a squire or something, right? Someone who helps a knight?"
+
+"Yes, a young person, someone in training." She grins and nods down to the remaining stack of cards. "There are knights in the deck, too, but that's for another time."
+
+Whiskers still canted forward, I nod and hesitate for a moment. "So, what does it being upside down mean?"
+
+"You tell me."
+
+I roll my eyes. Still, she sounds kind rather than petulant or snide, so I think about upside-down cards. Upside-down figures, upside-down and tipped over, upset in the literal sense of the word. Upside-down meanings. Meanings inverted, reversed, turned over.
+
+"I think I see." I intend it as the beginning of a sentence, but seeing the badger's smile widen, I leave it at that. I shut out the other cards, focus on the Page. "In training, hmm? They looks like they're investigating or contemplating. The, uh...I guess the wand. The wand is the only thing growing, the only thing with green in the entire scene."
+
+"Learning about life. Investigating growth." The badger nods, but neither confirming nor sage. Simply agreeing. "But reversed."
+
+"Not learning?" At this, I sense her expression close down. It's not a visible thing; it's a sensation of her movement of thought being put on hold. "Not...not doing anything with learning, perhaps?"
+
+The badger nods. I can see the clip on her thermometer holding it to the over-washed fabric, see beads of sugar still clinging to glass, bobbing with her movements. "Wands are for beginnings, for doing. Or perhaps activating is better." She sets a paw next to the card. "This Page --- a bear, maybe? I've never figured that out --- is learning, but not moving, not beginning. There is knowledge, but no decision."
+
+"Activation energy!" I blurt, and, seeing questions in her eyes, continue. "Like in chemistry. It's dorky, but there has to be enough energy for an electron to jump from one sphere to the next; it just sits there otherwise. It needs the proper amount of activation energy to get going."
+
+Questions turn to understanding, but her gaze stays locked on mine, waiting.
+
+"I don't have the energy."
+
+"Perhaps not. Or perhaps you do, but you're --- you or something within you --- is not letting it reach the activation. The energy may be there, but blocked."
+
+I have to restrain myself from a snide smile. A reaction to my mom's mysticism, maybe. To crystals and blocked energy. In the badger, though, I sense only earnestness. "Energy as in will? Purpose?"
+
+She shrugs. My choice, apparently.
+
+"Everything's yellow in the card--"
+
+"Energetic color, yellow."
+
+"--yellow except for the black of the salamanders on their coat-thing."
+
+She nods, murmurs down to the card, "His creations, perhaps. How many full ones do you see?"
+
+I lean closer, nudging glasses further up my blunt snout. "Two, maybe three out of a dozen or so."
+
+"If the card were upright, those other ones would be creations yet to happen." Her voice carries knowledge, and more authority than she's shown yet. "Reversed, that becomes flipped around. It could be creations abandoned, or it could be things you're afraid to start.
+
+"These cards named after people or titles --- the page, the knight, the king, the queen --- they're sometimes about people. Maybe this card's about you. Or they all could be. Maybe--"
+
+I smirk, nod my head toward the second card. "So I'm the fool?"
+
+"Maybe they're just facets of yourself." She finishes, returning my smirk.
+
+Thus chastened, I look at the second card. "Okay, well, there's a dog, one of those breeds with short fur, though it doesn't look like any of the dogs I've met. He's--" I catch myself, seeing androgyny in the dog's features and tamping down the yearning for my own. "They're stepping toward the edge of a cliff, with a little spirit thing dancing at their feet. They have one of those sticks with a bag tied to the end, but their tunic thing is what has me thinking. It's all growing things." I lean in closer and add, "And little splashes of water. Green and blue with flowers on navy."
+
+We sit in silence for a moment while I think about the card more.
+
+"There's a good balance of colors, come to think of it. More than the Page, at least. Blue and green and red and yellow." I hesitate, staring at the lean canine muzzle: the balance continues there, masculine and feminine, hard and soft, focused and uncaring. I say nothing, and wonder why.
+
+The older woman nods slowly. "It's a fancy shirt, no denying. It'd look good on you."
+
+I laugh, to which she looks up, smiling. "Seriously. It's a good mix. You're a good mix, too. But you wear all drab colors. Why's that?"
+
+There's a sudden flush to my cheeks, at my appearance being so deliberately addressed. I lay my ears back. A blush along with the first hints of annoyance. These are soon replaced with simple embarrassment. "I don't want to-- I mean, I don't think I'd look good in bright colors or fancy clothes."
+
+"I think you would." She hastens to continue, speaking over my mounting disagreements, "I think you'd look good, if you dressed how you wanted. Don't you?"
+
+I frown at her. She continues, "You didn't say you don't want to dress in bright colors and fancy clothes. You started to say you didn't want to do something else."
+
+I held my breath. Anger is the wrong word for what I feel. Frustration? Humiliation, perhaps. Am I so transparent?
+
+"I don't want to," I begin in a rush of pent-up breath, feeling that struggle blown out with it. My shoulders sag, and I complete the statement more slowly. "I don't want to be seen like that."
+
+"The fool, here, they're everything. They're the beginning of all things, and they've already got all of the endings inside themselves. At the beginning of all journeys, there's the fool: taking that first step is a fool's gamble, after all." She pauses, looking at me earnestly, intently. "You caught yourself earlier, you said 'he' and then switched to 'they'."
+
+I hunch down into my slouched shoulders, muzzle dipping as I struggle for words. "They looked-- I mean, It's on my mind, I guess."
+
+"I'll come clean," she admits after a pause, dark paws fiddling with the remainder of the deck, straightening cards. "Your mom told me you were coming, so I know that much. Even if she hadn't, though, it's written on your face. I mean this in the best possible way, Avery, but you don't make a very good man."
+
+I close my eyes. I shut out the cards, the motherly badger. Motherly in the sense of speaking truths, in the sense of knowing children, in having seen them grow up. Motherly in lived experience. Experience lived in the moment, not in some dream world of crystals and chakras. *More motherly than my mom,* I think.
+
+When I open my eyes, her gaze has softened.
+
+"Why three cards?" I ask, deflecting.
+
+"Past, present, and future." She laughs.
+
+I nod, then sit up a little straighter, murmuring, "So it's more that past me that didn't have the activation energy?"
+
+"Or didn't want to use it, yes."
+
+"That makes more sense, then."
+
+"How so?"
+
+I shrug, continuing, "If I'm at the beginning of something now, it's because of how much time I spent fretting --- and not starting --- before."
+
+She nods. "And are you at the beginning of something now?"
+
+"I think so." I sound dubious, even to myself.
+
+"Why now?"
+
+"College," I say.
+
+"Away from home?"
+
+"Mmhm."
+
+She nods again. "It's a little freeing, isn't it? Being away from parents. So you, like the Page of Wands, have been investigating, leaving all that energy pent up inside. And now you're ready to...to what? Take that step?"
+
+I catch myself fiddling with the hem of my shirt. It's an olive color, faded further into drabness by countless washings, no fancy tunic; even her washed-out smock is brighter than my shirt. It doesn't go with my fur. Nor do the well-worn khakis. A darker animal dressed in those would look rough and tumble, ready for a hike. A mountain lion looks like a mess of dirty laundry.
+
+I look up from my dull self to the table once more, speaking to the cards. "I have an appointment to start talking about it --- talking about gender --- with a counselor."
+
+"Congratulations," the badger says, smiling. And I realize she doesn't need to say anymore. I realize *that's* what I needed from my mom. I realize that's probably why my mom sent me here. I realize that there's probably more to my mom than I gave her credit for.
+
+I realize I've stopped thinking of this --- the tarot card reading --- as something mystical.
+
+I speak up, "The third card, then."
+
+The badger returns her gaze to the table.
+
+"It feels impenetrable to me."
+
+She laughs and shakes her head. "It's not a book. You're not writing a report on its deeper meanings. You're picking up on some of those meanings, but you don't have to do it right away or all the time. Or at all, for that matter." Still grinning, guides my attention back down to the card with a gesture, badger and cougar looming over the table. "Just tell me what you see."
+
+Abashed, I return her smile as best I can. "Alright. It's a...well, I want to say a woman and a child being ferried across a lake or something, but the boat they're in has six swords in it. They're upright, like they've been stabbed through the bottom of the boat."
+
+"Stabbed? Like they're going through the wood?"
+
+"Yeah."
+
+"Is water coming up around them?"
+
+I look harder. The bottom of the boat is pitch dark. "I can't tell, but no one seems in a rush to get them out, anyway."
+
+This gets a chuckle. "No, no they don't. Maybe they're plugging the holes in the boat. Maybe it's best to leave them in."
+
+Nodding, I keep looking at the card. There are lines to draw the attention. The swords, the boat, the pole of the oarsman, the horizon, the water...the water. "The front of the boat, where the swords are, isn't sinking. The people still weigh something, though. Look, the back of the boat's low in the water."
+
+She nods, "Maybe they--"
+
+"Like they don't weigh anything," I add hastily, cutting her short.
+
+"--don't weigh anything, yes."
+
+I lay my ears back and grin, "Sorry, didn't mean to trample."
+
+She returns my grin, pats my tan paw in her black one. "You're excited. It's really nice to see."
+
+"So why swords?"
+
+"I don't know. What do swords do?"
+
+I laugh. "Cut and stab. Kill people. Stuff like that."
+
+"Fair enough," she chuckles. "Why would one do that?"
+
+Her words stop me short. "To...to kill," I begin. "But that's what I just said. Are you asking me why people kill each other?"
+
+She nods.
+
+"To get something," I murmur, fumbling for words. "To gain something. To get what one wants, or needs."
+
+"So, since this is the Tarot and there's bound to be a lot going on here, can we just say the swords are a tool?"
+
+"Well, I'm not about to hack and slash my way to get what I want."
+
+She leans in close to me, stage-whispering, "I'll let you in on a secret. None of the cards in the swords suit --- in any suits --- show blood. Death, yes. Change, definitely. But no blood. It's hardly hacking and slashing."
+
+"But they're still--"
+
+She holds up a paw, "They're still swords, but they're tools. Swords show work. Strife, sometimes, sure; striving toward a goal. But what they is show work. These swords aren't working right now, they're just standing there. So where is the striving?"
+
+"Behind them?" I ask. "They figures are all facing away from something."
+
+"Or toward something."
+
+"So," I say hesitantly. "I'm going to go on a journey?"
+
+She laughs, "Can you guess what my next question would be?"
+
+I shake my head.
+
+"My next question would be: are you? And then you sit and think about it for a moment."
+
+"I sit and think a moment, then say: no, of course not, it's about the work of going through something. The journey is the work." I hesitate, then nod and continue, more sure of myself. "Because I'm here at the beginning. I'm the fool, ready to take the step, and then I just have to take the next and keep going."
+
+She smiles and urges me on with a little gesture of her paw.
+
+"So if I was stalling by investigating every possibility, never starting," I say, nodding back to the first card, the Page of Wands. "Then I guess what I'm focused on is taking that first step, and after that, taking the next."
+
+"You're doing my job for me," the badger laughs.
+
+My smile falters. "Fair enough, but what do I do?"
+
+"That's advice, kid." That soft smile, again. She flips the cards over, one by one, and continues, "Advice comes from people, not from cards. And if I'm going to give you advice, you're going to need to tell me what's actually going on."
+
+She leans forward, folding her arms on the table, and looks past the cards and to me.
+
+So I tell her. I tell her all that stuff from childhood, all those stupid things --- the dress-up, the questions, the uncomfortable guidance, the frustration at forced roles. I tell her all those things that meant nothing, may still mean nothing, and yet add up to a picture of a different me than who I am now. A different shape, a different body, different face and voice and name.
+
+I speak more freely than at the beginning of the session.
+
+I tell her about my mom, about telling her bits and pieces of my feelings, and her insistence at first that it was just a blockage of energies, and then her reluctant acceptance. I tell her about my dad, and how terrified I am of him and his iron grip on masculinity. I tell her about leaving for school and deciding that becoming my own self mattered more than their financial assistance and what belongingness they could offer.
+
+"Your mom sent you to me," she states again, after a comfortable silence. "Did you tell her any of this?"
+
+I shake my head. "She knows just that I'm, er--"
+
+"That you're transgender?" she finishes for me. "Would that be fair to say?"
+
+"I...yes, that's fair."
+
+"But you don't want to say it?" she asks, kind eyes on my own. "You don't have to, can just say yes or no."
+
+"No. I mean, I don't want to say it, but I should. Maybe that's part of the first step." I hesitate for a second, ears flat and eyes averted, before murmuring, "She just knows that I'm trans."
+
+The badger nods, unclipping the thermometer from her smock and turning it over in her fingers. "Alright. And she sent you to me for advice? She told me to talk to you, mentioned vague facts."
+
+"Yeah, she told me to go to you to work on things." I give a wry smile and add, "Her words, not mine."
+
+She laughs and sits back in her chair, slouching and twirling that thermometer. "Your mom is nuts," she says. "I mean that in the kindest way, of course: I love her dearly. Have since school. I suspect she wishes the world worked differently for her. And for you, for that matter."
+
+The unabashed laugh and words of affection are contagious and have me grinning. "Yeah, she's nuts," I echo. "Still, can't say I'm upset with what I got out of this."
+
+"The cards, you mean?"
+
+"Yeah. I was expecting fortunes, I got--"
+
+"You got what you had when you came in the door," she asserts. "And a chance to talk it through. Now, you want my advice?"
+
+"Yeah. I want to know what you think I should do next."
+
+"About which bit?"
+
+"Coming out, I suppose." I scuff at the back of my neck, paw feeling clumsy. "Maybe starting transition."
+
+"Well, it sounds like you're on your way to both, right?" She clips the thermometer back to her smock and straightens the remainder of the tarot deck in deft paws. "You've told your mom, and you have that appointment, right?"
+
+I nod, brushing fingertips over the overturned cards left on the table. It felt like we were both acknowledging their presence in our own ways. "But I still haven't told dad, and I'm still freaked out what the counselor will say."
+
+"Anxiety, then?" she offers, waving a paw above the cards. "A bit of the Page of Wands still left over?"
+
+I nod again, silent.
+
+"Do you want to dig at that?"
+
+"Mmhm. Do you have any thoughts on how to get past that?" She shuffles the cards and opens her mouth to speak, but I interrupt, "Wait, don't tell me. Now you'll ask if *I* have any thoughts on how to get past that."
+
+Her laugh is kind and her fingers sure as she slips another card from the top of the deck, laying it flat on top of the first three.
+
+The image shocks me enough to get me to sit up straight, as if by gaining some distance from the card itself I could escape it. "What the hell?"
+
+"The ten of swords," she says, voice level, conversational.
+
+I count the swords sticking out of the anonymous figure's back. Ten. A feline laid flat on his front, a dark sky, a calm shore, and ten swords buried in his back, each as high as the cat himself.
+
+I clear my throat and manage, "I thought you said there wasn't any bloodshed in the swords."
+
+"Do you see blood?"
+
+Despite everything urging me not to do so, I lean in close and inspect the figure. "No," I admit. "Though his cloak is red."
+
+"The color of passion. And yellow, the color of action."
+
+"The dawn's yellow, too," I offer. I sound dubious, even to myself.
+
+"Dawn, then?" The older woman looks down at the card curiously. "Dawn or sunset?"
+
+I frown and shake my head. "Dawn, I think. It always feels like dawn chases the night, but sunset gives in to it."
+
+"Poetic," she says, and her smile is earnest.
+
+I count the swords again. "One in his ear, one in his neck. Three or four in his back." I stifle a giggle and murmur, "That's a lot of swords."
+
+Her eyes brighten. "Isn't it? Overkill, in the truest sense of the word. Like an overreaction."
+
+A thought occurs to me, and I lean in over the table. "Staring at the dawn, killed ten times over. Look, the water's even clear, like the--" I lift the last card up to peek, and continue, "Like the six. Like me staring at coming out and poking a billion holes in the idea without ever taking the step."
+
+Her eyes stay bright. "Maybe it's an alternative to the six, then. Too much emotion, not enough action. Passion and action pinned down, rather than the work of the six. You could keep taking those steps, or you could keep killing yourself with indecision."
+
+I nod eagerly and ask on a whim, "What's it like reversed?"
+
+She gives a little shrug and turns the card over for me to see. "The swords fall out --- that's a relief --- but he's still dead, isn't he? Resigned to his place on the shore."
+
+"Sure enough," I laugh. "Wait, 'he'?"
+
+"You said it first," she says playfully. "Seriously, though, most of the figures are ambiguous. Or androgynous, I think. What you read into them can mean something if you let it."
+
+"It could be nothing," I mumble. "Or it could be the old me. The 'he'."
+
+She shrugs. My choice, apparently.
+
+A chime interrupts us, me staring at the card and her smiling at me. A clock tolling slow hours. I check my watch to confirm it. Five.
+
+"Oh jeez, I'm sorry. It's way later than I thought."
+
+She laughs, "Conversations go where they will. There's no rush. I can pull together dinner for two if you want to stay." She taps at the thermometer with a grin, "I even made marshmallows, though they'll be sticky still."
+
+"No, it's alright. Thank you. I'm getting pretty tired, as it is." I shrug, realizing just how true that statement is. "This took a lot out of me."
+
+"It does that. It's a wonder we need exercise at all, when just thinking about things wears us out."
+
+I laugh with her, nodding.
+
+"Still," she continues. "You're in town, now. Don't be afraid to stop by, say hi. There's lots more we can talk about, cards or no. Don't wait for your mom to push you my way."
+
+I lever myself up from the chair, swishing ropy tail once or twice to make sure it hasn't fallen asleep, and offer my paw to the badger. "I won't. I know she thinks we'll work on things, but I just want to talk. This was more than I expected. I didn't know I needed--"
+
+She bypasses my offered hand and gives me a firm hug around the middle. Startled, I hold still. She smells of sweets. Sweets and baking.
+
+I feel unfortunately tall. A rectangle. A lummox. A big, dumb cat.
+
+I also feel understood, appreciated. Welcomed. I return the hug carefully. Then, with her farewell in my ears, take that first step out into the evening air.
+
+And then the next.