#Canadian geese are a-holes

[gothamite-rambler]

Spoiler (pointing forward, screaming): Geese!

Red Hood (turned away from the flying bird): Don't you mean duck— Ow!

Red Hood was knocked forward by a wild Canadian Geese that pecked and quacked at him. Red Hood ran away, swatting the bird away, but that only made the bird madder.

Red Hood (running past Spoiler): Why is it attacking me?!

Spoiler (shrugging): He's a Canadian Geese. Sometimes they attack people at random. You got food in your pocket?

Red Hood ran past her as the geese flew after him.

Red Hood: No!

Spoiler: Maybe he just doesn't like you. Draw a circle!

Spoiler chuckled at her joke, but Red Hood wasn't in the mood while getting in his car and locking the door. The Canadian Geese honked seemingly trying to open the car door.

Spoiler walked over to the front passenger side of the car and calmly got in the front seat without the geese turning his attention to her.

Red Hood: What the fuck? Why isn't it attacking you!

Spoiler: I've feed geese in this park, he likes me. I didn't stop him because you are my yogurt and I'm still salty about it.

Red Hood (slamming his head on his steering wheel while Spoiler laughed): I hate going on missions with you.

Spoiler (patting her friends helmet): Aww, love you too buddy.

[im-jesus]

Hey jesus whats your opinion on geese (and would you like one *slowly pushes out a box with random holes in it*)

Seeing as I’m not Canadian, yes, I would like a geese. Please.

[ottpopfic]

It's not the first time Nico has had to turn their ass back around the way they came because they fucked some underworld something in what di Angelo has dubbed their ‘Gay Chicken On Steroids Quest’. He's equally pissed at both Leo and Jason every time, so Leo tries to take some solace in that

Like, hooray Leo we‘re glad you're back, go back from whence you came we gotta go close the hole you crawled out of or whatever

---

The last death

-

Leo is alive, again, for like the sixth time 

Something something Jason went off to gather parts of all the plants people have been turned into to make a sacrifice? Dr. Frankenbonsi a Leo? He's not sure, all he knows is he got spat out of Thalia’s tree and it was both gross and hella painful. Not the worst resurrection so far, but definitely the one with the most tree sap

Also, Nico’s pissed again that they fucked around too much. Whatever Jason did with his spooky tree thing has apparently made a weak spot for underworld magic and now they have to go close it 

It's not the first time Nico has had to turn their ass back around the way they came because they fucked some underworld something in what di Angelo has dubbed their ‘Gay Chicken On Steroids Quest’. He's equally pissed at both Leo and Jason every time, so Leo tries to take some solace in that

Like, hooray Leo we‘re glad you're back, go back from whence you came we gotta go close the hole you crawled out of or whatever

The issue this time isn't how Leo came back, but the fucking cultist that have taken over the spot Jason did his Zuse wood magic thing

They end up in Newport State Park near the tippy-top point of Wisconsin’s peninsula, in a clearing in a grove of Oak and Linden trees. The place has to be hidden by the mist, Leo has checked the satellite imaging on Google Maps multiple times as they trek through the trees and underbrush to see nothing out of the ordinary, or even a landmark. There's some kind of temple off up a hill with way too many Canadian Geese guarding it, but that's not what they're after 

What they are after is the lowlands under the temple where the earth was carved away by an ancient flood. The trees never grew back there, leaving room for the milkweed, cardinal flowers, and forget-me-nots to flourish under the sun. It would be a lovely sight, if the flowers hadn't been trampled by the cultists

Fucking cultists, they're digging a hole

“What's with the hole?” Piper asks. The three of them are up in the brush at the top of the hill across from the temple, watching the robed dudes down below and desperately avoiding the geese. 

“Fuck if I know” Nico monotones

“Dude, you're the whole reason we're here,” Leo gapes “How do you not know what's up with the hole?”

“Just because I know that cultists are fucking around doesn't mean I know the method to their madness” Nico grouches 

“Oh no wait I think they're planting that guy,” Piper identifies “Or burying him alive? Whatever there's a dude going in the hole”

“Yeah, looks like it's time to step in,” Nico tosses the binoculars back at Leo to stash in his tool belt and draws his spooky-ass sword “Whatever you do don't bother the geese, I think they are only here for the temple”

“There is no way in hell I'm fucking with a goose,” Leo relents, tucking everything away “Have you ever been one on one with a goose, because I have”

“Oh yeah same,” Nico shudders “I got chased by like four of them when I was homeless in Central Park”

“Fucking vicious right!?” 

“Yeah, if I didn't know better I'd say they were hell spawn”

“Is there a plan?” Piper cuts in before they start down what she calls ‘sad homeless orphan lamentations’

“Keep the cult from burying anyone, don't die,” Nico tells them “I can close the weak point once we clear them out”

“Fantastic,” Piper says 

They end up splitting up slightly, being outnumbered puts a damper on charging in even if it looks mostly like mortals below. Nico poofs off one way whereas Leo and Piper sneak off the other, it works for about eight seconds before they are spotted in the wildflowers 

“You there!” cries one of the cultists pointing “Show yourself!“

“What is he a fucking Monty Python character” Piper grumps

“Hello!” Leo improvises, standing abruptly “Hello fellow cult members, I have come to uh, help you with the cult stuff” Leo can see Nico facepalm in a patch of swamp lupine on the other side of the hill

“Yep sure do love digging holes and putting people in them, uh” Leo is apparently now the distraction because Piper is lining up her blow dart as his hip and Nico is creeping in from the back “Sure am excited using a whole ass man as a seed, that's definitely gonna appease our god!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” cuts in one of the cult guys in the back, Piper blow darts him two seconds later

Things go fast from there. There are six above-ground cult members and one fancy one in the hole, Nico quickly takes out the one next to Mr. Blow Dart In The Neck. Leo pulls a handsaw and a ball peen hammer out of his belt, whipping the hammer at the closest robed figure and following a knife-wielding Piper into the fray 

It's the classic chaos of a close combat fight; dodge, duck, swipe at a weak spot, and don't hit your friends. They're holding their own pretty well for being outnumbered in a goose poop-filled muddy clearing. But it's when Leo turns to throw another hammer at the man starting to overpower Piper that he hears a new voice enter the equation

“Leo!”

And there he is, it's Jason. 

He's alive, walking talking breathing moving of his own accord. Or he would be, if the knife that was meant for Leo wasn't sticking out of his back

Leo hasn't seen him in three years . 

“Jason?”

They lock eyes for a second, blue to brown, and then Jason gives one hard bloody cough. Leo can see the tip of the knife just piercing through his shirt, the smallest hit of silver surrounded by spreading red

“ Jason !”

The Hole Cultist pulls his blade up first, making a sick crunching and ripping noise accompanied by Jason’s cut-off scream, before wrenching it back out and kicking the blond away. Jason falls hard, and he stays down, the robed man turning back to his original target of Leo with a sneer. There is a lot of blood, like the knife went through a major artery or organs or something, pooling around where Jason lays barely moving, it makes Leo see red

He tends not to be the one fighting in the front lines, especially not with his fire. Like Leo can defend himself and others if he needs to, but he much prefers to launch wrenches at people like Ratchet from Transformers or act as a support. Fire is too hard to control in close or crowded combat, and there is too high a risk of hurting someone friendly or catching the landscape ablaze

Leo doesn't really care about that right now, his body moves on its own

Charbroiled he thinks the term is, or at least extra crispy, because for once Leo is not holding back. That tight panicked control he's had to keep on his fire his whole life whips away from him in a flash of light and heat at the cultist, a Saturn's rings of flame surrounding him and then projected at the man. Either way, there's not much left of them when he's done, half the flesh seared off the bone and all

“Jason!” Leo screams as he turns back, scrambling away from the horror show he's made of the robed figure and sliding on his hands and knees next to the blond. He gathers Jason into his arms and onto his lap, not caring for the blood and viscera that are coating them both, Jason grabs him back with shaking hands the best he can “ Jason !”

“O-oh hey,” Jason says like he's not actively bleeding out “It's good to see you”

“Jason, what the fuck” Leo cries, vision blurring with the water in his eyes “Don't��do this to me!”

“It’s okay,” Jason tries to soothe him through the blood in his mouth, gore-slick hands losing their grip on Leo’s jacket and looking straight into Leo’s eyes like a promise “I'll get you on-on the n-next round, just-just wait, for me” and then he's gone, the light leaving him In one last desperate rasping breath

“No no no nonono no! ” Leo begs through his tears, shaking him in his arms like it will make Jason’s spirit come back to his body “Jason come on please! ”

It's not fair, he's right here and it's not fair . They were so close, Leo can feel how close they were to making it

He's on fire, he knows he is but he doesn't have it in him to care. It's whipping around like a storm, like a tornado, pouring off of him harder and hotter than it's ever been, the heat making Jason's body slowly cremate in his arms. All Leo can do is burn and sob, hunched over what's left of the man he's so desperate for even as other things around them catch with him

It's not fair, they were so close and it's not fair

Leo is done. He's played by the rules and bent over backwards to appease the gods and this is what they get? They were never going to let Leo have him, it's always been just a show, just another stupid myth to add to the collection. Here's a parable on what wanting what you can't have will do to you, it is storm or fire after all

Leo is over it, he's going to write his own story

He can hear Piper’s panicked voice somewhere off somewhere, but he can't find it in him to care for once. If he's going to die this time for this at least she won't be there like all the other deaths. Maybe she can be spared for once

It's hot, his fire, so hot for once it's blue. Jason’s body might be dust slipping through his hands but Leo knows without needing to look it's the same color as his eyes

So he hulls himself up. He's still burning, the ash that is Jason combining with the ash and stone that is the landscape and changing. Magma, lava, stone and glass. 

Obsidian 

Leo walks 

And the ground melts away

He walks the whole way down like that, all the way to the underworld. Nothing stops him, not the earth or spirits or monsters, nothing even tries. He creates his own tunnel like that, burning his entrance to the upside down, an Obsidian Field

He may not be falling into the planet, but it sure is close

Leo doesn't waste time when he gets to the upside down, beelining it to the queue of souls waiting to be judged, honed in on the blond like he's being reeled in by the heartstrings. He's terrified, he's breaking so many rules, but he can't care about that right now. He won't care about it. If they want to strike him down for this Leo can just step in behind Jason, he's not above cutting in line.

It doesn't take Leo long to find him, in the long procession of semi-transparent dead people Jason is surprisingly opaque. He has a hand in his grody ripped jeans pockets and staring at an outcropping of stalagmites like a crappy waiting room TV. The microsecond Leo is close enough he grabs him out of line by the hand, Jason looks surprised to see him so soon

“We are leaving ” Leo demands through his teeth

“Okay,” Jason says, and then Leo drags him back the way he came

He doesn't let go of Jason's hand the whole way up, but he doesn't look at him either, just in case.

When they get upstairs the land around them is one big sheet of black glass with the hole to the new underworld entrance smack dab in the middle. there's a spot in front of them, where the new stone is discolored and rippled like water. Where Jason died, where Leo caught fire. It’s kinda pretty in a way, glittering and reflective, but nothing looks better than turning around and Jason still being there

“Hi,” Jason says, a huge grin on his face

“Hey,” Leo breathes back, still terrified their both about to be whisked away back under

“I missed you,” Jason tells him, squeezing his hand

“ Dude ” Leo is trembling, is this really happening?

“Just, come here ”

Jason pulls him into an embrace by their joined hands, and Leo melts into it holding him back like a lifeline. 

It's probably the best hug in existence Leo thinks, even though it's one-armed and they are both hella gross. But it's Jason , and he's here. He's here and he's sticking his stupid handsome face in Leo’s hair and pulling him in so tight it makes his ribs hurt. Leo thought he had run out of tears somewhere between the Metamorphic Rocks and the Mantle, but apparently not. He's sobbing into Jason’s nasty ass shirt, and Jason lets go of his hand just to hold him tighter

“Holy shit!” Leo hears Piper shreek in the distance “Holy shit he did it! ”

There's more screaming, the sound of friends and family inbound across the still-steaming ground, but right now it's just Leo and Jason standing in the cooling obsidian 

Leo looks up at him, just to make sure it's true and Jason is here for realzies this time. He's met with blue eyes, blue like the sky above them clear of clouds, blue like the heart of the hottest flames, blue like home

“Let's go home,” Leo tells him

“Okay,” Jason replies, seconds before Piper body slams them both to the ground “Let's go home”

---

@queenjunothegreat

[imaseawitch]

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that most sources I've seen specify that the concern is that a) they wipe out the earthworms (great point above about earthworms being non-native; I didn't even freakin know that and I'm about to go down a rabbit worm hole) and b) that they are difficult to kill, meaning that they are rapidly replacing more "helpful" soil creatures.

Full disclosure that I am no expert in any of this and I'll definitely do some more research, but again, every source I've seen seems to portray these guys as unequivocally bad for the US ecosystem. I'm definitely not the type to believe something just because a government agency said so, but I also don't think that them being pretty or cool-looking or whatever outweighs any ecological or agricultural damage, especially on a large scale.

The entire concept of "invasive" species is inherently divisive and whatever the opposite of holistic is. The entire earth is an ecosystem and species' ranges expanding and shrinking is a natural part of life on this planet. As many have pointed out, we have all sorts of "non-native" species thriving in new areas across the globe, from Canadian geese in Europe to rabbits in Australia to earthworms and honeybees in America. (Obvious English-speaker bias here. I see it.) Acceptance of these species varies wildly based on arbitrary and inconsistent factors.

I think what matters in this case is that hammerhead worms are not benefitting American soil in the way earthworms currently are. If they wipe out all the earthworms, who knows how our soil climate will change? Our dirt is so important and its inhabitants are so frequently ignored, but a kudzu-style takeover by one creature in the soil layer could have profound impact on the lives of any modern human who eats crops or livestock fed on crops.

I get that the ecosystem as a whole is not about humans, but I selfishly do care if my home territory can support human life. And just because the colonizers, explorers, tradespeople, refugees missionaries, or whoever of the past were ignorant of their ecosystem-altering ways, that doesn't mean that we have to be ignorant too! Earthworms being non-native doesn't mean they aren't currently helping our species survive on this continent. As a species, we have the technical knowledge to prevent us inadvertently spreading harmful organisms (be they pathological bacteria, banana-killing fungi, or conquering worms), and I think we have a duty to use that knowledge to try to better the planet for ourselves and our neighbors. That's definitely up to interpretation, but I think the thing I'm missing here is a reason why we should ignore researchers' warnings that they are bad for the US environment.

Anyway, I hope I haven't stepped in it here and that this is interpreted as a "discussion" and not an "argument" if you know what I mean. I have a ton of respect for op and all who take time to appreciate the under-appreciated creatures. I love bugs and creeps and weirdos and I just think evolution and ecosystems and biology and all that jazz is really interesting and fun to talk about. 💖

hammerhead flatworms (Bipaliinae) are in my estimation among the most beautiful terrestrial animals, often sporting bright colors and striking patterns that advertise their toxicity.

bipaliines feed on either worms or land gastropods, tracking the slime trails of prey with their highly sensitive spade- or crescent-shaped head plate.

Southeast Asia is a hotspot for bipaliine diversity, and at least six species can be found in Singapore, all of which I managed to encounter this summer!

[exit-path]

A Wander Around Lower Manhattan

On March 22, I got to take a trip to Manhattan. This was my first chance to go there in a long time. So, after I finished my business in Manhattan, I decided to stay there a while longer.

I was already around Battery Park City and the Financial District (don’t worry if you don’t know those neighborhood names, I’m learning them for the first time). So I decided to go down to Rockefeller Park to see the sea.

I was walking along the edge of a body of water that was feeding into the Hudson River. The walkway was made of cement, and there was a guardrail to make sure I didn’t fall in the water.

As I walked, taking in my surroundings, I felt a strange new kind of peace. I saw the water in the river gently lap back and forth, and smelled the salty scent of the ocean.

I was walking calmly and quietly down the esplanade, with my hands in my pockets, when I came across something brightly-colored on the guardrail.

It was a poem. Someone had written a poem, and the city of New York had commissioned an agency to put people’s poems on signs around the esplanade. As I leaned over to read the poem, a dragonfly flew in from the river and under my legs, disappearing behind me.

I found through a hole in the fence of the park and crossed through a large flat expanse of grass. There weren’t many people here today.

I had never experienced the park like this before. This was my first time here by myself, taking in all the sounds and sights of the park.

I came out the other side, and walked down to the North Esplanade. I became calmer and more aware of my surroundings.

I found a second poem. It requested that the reader take a moment and pay attention, not just to the murmur of people around me, but to the water, and the wind in the trees as well. I paused, and listened.

I leaned out over the guardrail, and looked out over the river. I could notice that the water on the surface of the river was making a sound. The gentle lapping of the water made a rhythmic rippling that was faint, but pleasant.

As I watched these movements in the river, I let my mind wander. It was nice to see the sea foam appear and disappear, to change shape, and also to see the high-rise of the skyscrapers across the river on the New Jersey shore.

I stayed there for a total of fifteen minutes. Then I got up off the guardrail, and started walking again down the esplanade.

I saw some more cool sights around me as I passed. I could see a ferry terminal up ahead. It was a building made of bluish-green glass. I also saw a flock of Canadian geese. They were on a lawn behind a fence to my left, pecking for bugs in the grass.

At this point, I passed by a playground. It was an incredible sight: structures that were red and yellow and blue, and there were so many different structures to play on. It was like its own miniature city inside this city.

It looked so fun—it looked like the playground equivalent of a mansion. As I got closer and closer to the playground, I could hear the laughs of children from far away.

So you can imagine my heartbreak when I walked up to the sign on the gate and saw that the playground was only allowed for children under 12 and “accompanying parents”.

No. I was too late. I was too old. I didn’t even know until now that there was a cutoff age where you can’t go to playgrounds anymore. Regardless, I wasn’t allowed in. They wouldn’t let me.

Regardless, I opened the playground gate and went in.

Sure, it said that you needed to be a child or an accompanying parent to be in the playground, but what could they do about it? It wasn’t like I was going to be forcibly removed or anything. It was just for “the enjoyment of people in the park”.

So I walked around, and all the while made sure to keep my visit brief. I looked at all the other children having fun, and I could imagine their happiness while I walked around the bases of the structures. I tried to make my presence unfelt, and left as soon as necessary.

Up until this point I had planned to explore as much of the park as I could, but now I was just getting bored. So while I could just keep exploring Rockefeller park, I decided to call it quits and left the park. I had spent a total of half an hour there.

Now, a lot of people will probably recognize the next thing I’m going to describe: the “Freedom Tower”. Officially called the “One World Trade Center”, it’s the skyscraper that was built over the ruins of the Twin Towers after 9/11.

Well as it turns out, one of the streets it borders is the very street I left the park on: Vesey Street. So, as I was walking down this street, I would happen upon the gargantuan base of the Freedom Tower.

It’s HUGE. The Freedom Tower is the tallest building in NYC, at 1,776 feet—a nod to the year of American independence. As I lifted my head to try and see the top of the building, it just kept going.

Only when I had tilted my head backwards 90°, straining my neck, could I see the top of it. I could see a couple window cleaning workers.

They were standing on a platform which dangled outside the building, above and to the right of me. They were washing the windows around the 25th floor—they definitely seemed closer to the ground than they were to the top.

I turned left onto West Broadway and began to search for a subway station to get home. On the way, though, I crossed paths with someone on the intersection between Broadway and Park Place.

He was a worker pushing a hand truck carrying three gallon-water bottles. He was crossing the road towards the other side from me, when his grip on the hand truck slipped while getting it up the pedestrian ramp.

Two of the water bottles fell off the hand truck, and their caps screwed off, pouring their contents right onto the middle of the road, as cars started to pass by because the light turned green. I wanted to help him out, but I couldn’t reach him on the other side of the road.

Thankfully, another couple was coming down the sidewalk just at this moment, and they came to help him pick up the water bottles and bring them to the sidewalk.

The worker told them thanks, however, he explained, since the water touched the road it was unsalvageable, and both bottles unfortunately had to be emptied. The couple understood and left the worker with thanks.

At this point I could finally cross the road to the other side, where I saw him having emptied half of one of the bottles into a storm drain on the road, and he was still pouring. That was unfortunate, I thought.

I couldn’t think of anything I needed to stay in Manhattan for anymore, but I didn’t want to leave just yet. So just before I went to go for the subway, I decided last minute to get something to eat.

I was finally hungry enough, after walking all around the place, to get something to eat. So I ran down Murray Street to arrive at the Shake Shack there. I ordered a ShackBurger (which I’d never tried until then) and a lemonade. It was pretty good.

[masteringmusculardystrophy]

On Nature.

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair." - Khalil Gibran

In the early morning, I am often captivated by watching the small, humble, green bird-feeder perched on its black post in our yard. Our pint-sized feathered friends find shelter beneath its wooden green roof as they feast on the assortment of seeds it has to offer them. One by one they land and take off as if on an airport runway, taking turns sharing of its bounty while my furry chipmunk and squirrel friends wait below for left-overs.

During my newfound hobby as an amateur bird watcher, I have spotted a wide variety of feathered creatures: Blue Jay, Cardinal, Finch, Red-Bellied Wood Pecker, Humming Bird, Blue Heron, Cow Bird, Carolina Chickadee, Downy Wood Pecker, Egret, Hawk, Crow, Buzzard, Sparrow, Mallard Duck, Owl, and Canadian Geese.

From my vantage point above the lake cove, I have also had the opportunity to do some fish watching. Bass, Catfish, Crappie, Carp, Blue Gill, Perch, and other Brim all come near the shoreline.

Rachel Carson said, "Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts."

What is it about nature that provides such a grand sense of serenity?

A person cannot find it at the mall or in downtown New York -you wouldn't go there to relax. Nature offers a feeling of connection that nothing else can. Maybe it's evolutionary, our very genes having the long-term memory of the outdoors encoded within. Whatever it is; being around other living things keeps humans grounded. Standing Bear said it best when he stated, "Man's heart away from nature becomes hardened."

The other day I was enchanted by a local nature trail. The babbling brook with its shallow, white, stony rapids trickled next to an immense variety of plants and flowers. A natural spring we spotted had water bubbling out of a hole in the earth. Climaxing with a lakeside view timed perfectly with the setting sun. The pallet of color dancing across the evening sky along with everything else we experienced was like the earth was singing us a symphony. It left me with a sense of wonder.

It's like recharging your batteries. Just observe all of the places people go on vacation. Why do you think so many rehabilitation centers are near water or nature? Pythagoras exclaimed, "Leave the road, take the trails." Maybe we are closest to God when we are close to nature, maybe we are simply closer to our origins. But for all of the architecture man has created nothing can match the woodlands.  Man's greatest symphony is but a clanging cymbal when compared to a late summer's night on the lake.

Even today, nestled in our small quaint cove, I sat on the aging wood of our gray deck looking out over the still waters. I took notice of a green-headed mallard on our dock- drowsing in the sun and couldn't help but feel a part of nature.

Allow me to leave you with the thought of Henry David Thoreau when he recorded, "I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not when I came to die, discover that I had not lived."

When was the last time you felt the grass under your feet and between your toes?

-Brent

[culture-for-a-hungry-mind]

THE CANADIAN ARCTIC - Welcome to the North

This post will look at the role of Women in the Arctic, traditional teachings and how that relates to food. 

An interesting look at the cultures respectful connection to the land.

Traditional Responsibilities of Inuit Women - Food preparation 

In the North, it is less about recipes and more about methods of gathering, processing, and storing food. Each part of the animal is used and respected. The parka this young girl is wearing was hand sewed by her great Nanuk. The fur is from a wolf that her grandfather hunted. 

Francine lives in Aklavik, North West Territories, Canada.

She attends school where she learns academic and traditional Inuit curriculum. This curriculum includes learning the traditional responsibilities of women and girls in the region.

(Inuuqatigiit Curriculum, 51)

(Inuuqatigiit Curriculum, 59)

Much of the Traditional Responsibilities of Women & Girls focuses on the home, making clothing and food preparation. 

Complete Teachings can be found at http://inuuqatigiit.ca/

SPECIFIC FOOD

The Hunt, Preparation and Presentation.

Traditional Teachings - Whale

Beluga Whale laid out to dry - Aklavik 2020

Muktuk (whale skin) 

This is a traditional Whale dish that is enjoyed by the Inuit.  Muktuk can be eaten raw, frozen, dried, baked, or fried. Many people hang it to dry after they have cut it up. Once it is dry they bake it in the oven or over a fire for 3-4 hours. Not much is added in regards to spice because the flavor is rich by itself. Processing muktuk releases a lot of oils and fat.  These oils are saved and eaten with frozen or cooked meat.

Muktuk and Dry meat dipped in HP sauce

“Traditional food is valued because it is what people lived off of years ago. It is more healthy than white mans food and has more iron and vitamins” (Dene Elder, Aklavik NWT, 2021)

Traditional Teachings - Fish

Fish drying - Aklavik 2020

Dry fish - The Northern treat

Most people use kony or whitefish to make dry meat because they have less bones. Preparing a fish to dry takes skill and patients.  Most people butterfly the fish and then cut it into small strips (while still attached to the skin - as pictured).  Others take each individual strip of fish off the skin and dry separately. This method is called fish sticks.  “I find that fish dried on the skin is more oily than fish dried in smaller pieces. The head of the fish is then taken and boiled. The broth of the boiled head is drank when you are sick.” (H. Evans, 2021)

Method of gathering fish

During the summer months people go out in boats and canoes and fish.  During the winter you can either set a fish net, which is checked every three days, or you can fish through a hole with a jiggling stick.  Fish that are not good for eating are put back in the water.

Fish Sticks dipped in butter

White fish cooked over an open fire.

Ok - Wow - So much to learn - Fascinating!!!

I have decided to post an Arctic Part 2 (and maybe 3..4..) - Stay tuned.... Next we will look at Berries and then onto Caribou and Birds (Geese)

Thank you so much for checking out Artic Food with me :) 

[yoongis-scooter]

senior year, but make it infected

pairing: yoongi x reader (yoongi seems to be in high demand so imma just keep writing for him until 1) someone requests another member or 2) i write something good that’s with another member lol)

word count: 1,029

genre: highschool!au, best friends!au (you n yoongles reminisce about your senior year) (also tried to make it funny but im not funny so)

warnings: this involves covid-19 and essentially how high school seniors are being effected by that so if that upsets you/triggers you don’t read! also there’s a couple swear words

authors note: hi y’all!!! i am/was a senior this year so i’ve def been reminiscing on my high school memories n such :’) also a lil fun fact!! all the stories told in this fic are inspired by things that have actually happened to me lolol but yea!! i hope you enjoy!!

new cases of covid-19 confirmed!

restaurants shutting down do to covid-19!

CDC recommends that citizens stay quarantined!

that’s all your news feed had been for weeks now. you feel awful for everyone that’s been affected, sure, but you find it hard to care now that your last few months of your teenage years have been infected with this god forsaken disease.

you’re mother told you that you were being over dramatic, and that it’s time you start letting go and start thinking about your future. maybe she was right, but you weren’t having it. 

you sit at your desk that’s placed by your window. it overlooks your front yard and you can see all the people that walk by throughout the day. some wearing masks, some not. many move away from the people they see walking towards their direction in silent fear, but they still said a polite hello to not seem too rude.

the time on your phone reads 1:18 AM in little white lettering. you and yoongi had been on the phone with each other since 11, and the call showed no signs of ending any time soon. these nighttime calls with yoongi were a regular occurrence now that the two of you can’t see one another every day at school. the two of you live only about a 10 minute walk away from each other, but your parents were so caught up in the news that they wouldn’t let you leave. so facetime calls would have to suffice until this all blows over.

you’re drawing little doodles on your notepad while you and yoongi talk about miscellaneous things. you look out of your window briefly and notice a lone duck waddling it’s way into your yard. he wanders for a couple minutes while you and yoongi continue talking. you watch him for a minute and then go back to your doodles.

“don’t even get me started on mrs.jung, i can pull up her mugshot at any moment so she better watch how much work she gives us” yoongi babbles. you had accidentally brought up the sore subject of the teacher, knowing how much she gets on yoongis nerves. sometimes you’ll do it just to watch get mad. what can you say, its cute.

“wait she really got arrested? i just thought that was a rumor”

“yea, it happened in like 2013 i thi-”

HONK HONK HONK HONK

your head shoots up, spotting the duck running around your yard and honking like the world was going to end. 

“what the fuck is that?” he asks, looking at your equally as confused expression through the phone screen. you groan loudly, but for some reason the obnoxious honking triggers a memory, and you start smiling a little. yoongi, still very confused, speaks up.

“can you like, not do that? it’s creepy” yoongi said, slightly disgusted by your sudden change in behavior.

“do you remember that one time jungkook was drunk off his ass and he could stop telling us facts about canadian geese?” you beamed, looking at yoongi through your camera. the memory brings a smile onto his face too.

“oh my god... i do. and hoseok was really freaked out because jungkook has never even left the country” yoongi hummed, the both of you now grinning like idiots.

this leads you into a rabbit holes of funny moments that had happened in your friend group.

like the one time you, taehyung, and namjoon had spent 20 minutes painting jesus’ ass to perfection in art history class and then realized you only had 10 minutes to finish the actual assignment but ended up just turning in the ass anyway

like the one time jungkook found one of your head bands on your bedroom floor and put it on like a tube top, then proceeded to prance around your house chanting california girls by katy perry

like the one time your class had taken a trip to washington d.c. and had gotten a chance to attend the changing of the guard ceremony at arlington cemetery, but when all of you got there, namjoon forgot to put his phone on silent so his ringtone started blaring during the what was supposed to be quiete ceremony

the laughter that had been coming from the both of you had finally calmed down and the two of you caught your breath. the both of you still had large smiles on your faces.

“i can’t believe i’m about to say this, but i actually think i’m gonna miss high school” you sigh, looking down at your floor. 

“yea... i mean we’re still going to see each other though. we’re literally going to the same college (y/n)” yoongi chuckles, wanting to tease you but he holds back, because he feels the exact same way. 

“oh shit” yoongi whispers.

“what?”

“it’s 3 in the morning”

you look at the time and yoongi is in fact correct. the numbers read a bright 3:07 AM and you grimace at the thought of having to get up tomorrow.

“well i think it’s time that i hit the hay. i recommend you do the same, (y/n), would hate to see bags under your eyes tomorrow” yoongi joked, and if he were right in front of you, you would’ve flicked him on his forehead.

“shut up! i’ll talk to you tomorrow?” you ask hopefully. and he confirms with an echoed tomorrow.

you throw yourself onto your bed and start looking at old pictures in your camera roll. you miss your friends, and you would give anything to just be in the same room with them again. 

you begin gathering all sorts of photos into a file. the folder consists of any and every stupid memory and greatest accomplishment that the eight of you shared throughout your four years of high school. you share it with them and finally shut your eyes, dreaming about seeing your best friends again.

when yoongi wakes up the next morning he sees the notification from the photo album you humorously titled ‘senior year, but make it infected.’ he chuckles at your amateur attempt to be funny

“what a fuckin’ sap”

[heritageartifacts]

We’ve entered the winter-sloppy portion of our yearlong Canadian stay. Midday temps climb just above freezing, encouraging snowmelt, but not the retirement of my Arctic-ready coat. At sunset, single digit temps plunge the island into a tundra-like cold, making every surface as slick and dangerous as a sax player after two whiskies. - Biting winds off the lake stilled and an afternoon sky the uniform, steel gray of prison bars, we hiked across acres of farmland now crunchy beneath boots, treading on remaining snow to circumnavigate mud and ice. Situated at the back of the fields, a forest beckons to be explored. Walking underneath grand conifers and alongside partially frozen, freshwater streams, we watch for wintering populations of Yellow-Rumped Warblers, Great Horned Owls, Pileated Woodpeckers, and Dark-eyed Juncos, while following animal tracks and foraging for bald eagle feathers and antler sheds. The air still and silent, we hear the beating wings from flocks of Canadian geese, flying overhead in V’s as grandiose as victory. - Red-faced from the cold and sweaty from exertion under heavy layers of clothing, we finally locate a much-anticipated sugar bush. The gray-white of a winter forest is punctuated by galvanized steel buckets adorning stands of sugar maples like masochistic, arboreal breast pumps. In the distance, a tap-tap-tap echoes; a farmer gently hammering spiles into small holes he bored into the trees. Suspended from these hollow spikes are buckets with metal covers that shield the collected sap from rain, snow, and nosey animals, each one stamped The Dominion & Grimm Company, Fait au Canada. One of the longest, continually operating maple syrup equipment companies in Canada, Grimm Manufacturing Company of Ohio opened branches in Montreal, Canada and Rutland, Vermont in 1892, effectively creating a Maple Triangle, where one drowns not in the warm seas off Bermuda, but in a sweet puddle of syrup. - As long as the weather holds several degrees above freezing, the sap will run, each precious drop tink-tink-tinking into buckets. A stop-and-go process in late winter, sap collection is entirely weather-dependent. - #canada #maplesyrup (at Prince Edward County) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMDw4tlrriKNv0jHYEQYa1y7IMpevVXhF3tiBY0/?igshid=1na8twalcgmwt

[magnolia-penn]

About Me!! And also some Rules!!

It has come to my conclusion that I haven't really said anything about myself on this hell hole so here we go!

Name: Magnolia

Fun fact, I was named after a stripper that my father owed a favor to. (Long story)

Age: I am Nineteen years old

Gender: I think the right term is cis female? Please please please correct me if I'm wrong. I was born female and I am female. So sorry if I got it wrong.

Pronouns: She/her, but I'm chill with anything.

Sexuality: I'm pansexual. *insert shitty pan joke here* and I am taken! Sorry peeps, I am off the market.

Nationality: American!! WOO!! (someone please hug me I hate it here)

Ethnicity: I am actually primarily Ojibwe! It's a Native American tribe feom up north by the great lakes. After that, its Latin America and African American! Plus some other little European countries.

I still live with my parents so expect a lot of strange quotes from them!

Likes: JJBA. Dr. Stone, Demon Slayer, other anime and manga, Obey Me!, plants and Horticulture, animals, makeup and fashion, memes, other mainstream media, music, anthropology and psychology... Lots of things really!

Dislikes: Ho boy. There is no word count in the world that can hold this list.

For starters, I hate the ocean, I hate not being able to see what's beneath me or what exists, I H A T E Canadian Geese with a seething passion, and I hate strawberries.

Also! Here are some Rules. These are pretty basic and there are probably more that I can't think of off the top of my head.

No politics! No opinions! No Drama! I am so sick and tired of hearing about this! If you don't like this, LEAVE!

You can, of course, tell me your opinions of my work and of your favourite media. Just no real world shit unless I ask.

No Negativity! This is a happy place where everyone is friends! If you don't like this, LEAVE!

I am willing to hear out any problems you might have, but don't come in here with the intention of bringing me down. Don't diss me, don't diss my friends, don't diss my followers. That simple.

No Nastiness! I don't want your p*dos, I don't want your phobias (unless they're actual phobias like arachnophobia. Then I wanna hear all about it. Psychology interests me) I don't want racism! And No No No No anything nonconsensual!!!

No fighting in my inbox! I see people anons get into it in their inboxs and it just annoys me.

I'll make a separate post for request rules and anything else people might need to know. All posts like these will be under the tag #rules and #aboutme.

If you have any questions please please please ask me either in my inbox or direct messages. I am willing answer any questions and update these posts.

[roomon]

Geneva National Golf Club, Lake Geneva, WI, September 03, 2020, Trevino Signature Course

Temperature 82 degrees, Clear Skies, becoming mostly cloudy, Winds W(260-270 degrees) 32 G 46 mph; the wind tended to affect your putting.

We started as a threesome and a twosome but again on the third hole we joined as a fivesome. Greg Thomas, Dave Bitter, Tom Atkinson, Rob Clayton, Bill Heuer

41-42 = 83

Bottom Photo: Self Portrait through the reflection of the Taylor Made drive club face.

Top Photo; Playing Geneva National is a little like golfing in a nature preserve: Canadian Geese, Turkeys, Deer and Sandhill Cranes

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 3: Darci

Ao3

Darci spotted the two boys pulling into the parking lot on their bikes. Without turning she reached over and tapped Mary on the shoulder “They’re here,”

Mary glanced up from her phone towards the newcomers, pressing a button to make the screen go dark before sliding it into her pocket.  

Jim and Toby came to a stop in front of them and began locking their bikes into the nearby racks “Good afternoon ladies,” Toby said while shutting his bike lock with way more flourish than was needed “I trust the ride here was pleasant enough?”

Darci was barely able to keep from groaning while Mary disguised a snicker as a cough, “Yeah, my dad dropped us off,” Toby wasn’t nasty with his flirting, not compared to some of the jerks they’d had to deal with, but it got old fast.

Jim stood up from his bike and glanced around the parking lot “So, uh...is Claire here? I thought she said--” 

“Here I am!” Claire jogged up to the group, panting from the exertion of her short run “I had to get the wristbands from my mom,” she handed out four strips of waxy paper, keeping the fifth to fasten around her own wrist “These should get us on any ride here,”

Jim’s eyes practically popped out of his skull “You didn’t have to buy all these, my mom gave me some money to--”

“It’s no big deal. As one of the city council members hosting the fair she gets a certain number of wristbands for free,”

“Oh...that’s cool,”  

They finished attaching the wristbands and headed into the fairgrounds proper. In no time at all they were surrounded by eye burningly bright primary colors splashed onto every structure and tent, metal creaked against metal as the rides started up with the first passengers of the afternoon. And it smelled like something, or maybe everything, was being being deep fried.

Darci eyed the boys walking a few steps ahead between her and her friends. They seemed alright as far as boys went, but hanging out with people that weren’t Claire or Mary just felt weird. But that wasn’t a reason to not hang out with them. If anything that was more of a reason. When Darci started high school she’d made a promise to herself. Get out of her comfort zone, spend time with people that she wasn’t friends with already.

Steeling herself, Darci sucked in a big breath through her nose. 

She could do this.

Her own personal goals aside, this whole thing had been Claire’s idea. To try and reach out to Jim after what had happened two weeks ago.

Not to mention they’d learned some pretty nasty details about why exactly Jim had broken down in the first place.

Claire had practically begged her and Mary to come with today, so that Jim wouldn’t think this was just a pity date. Not that she had to twist Darci’s arm too hard. She was always willing to lend a hand, especially when it involved going to the county fair. And if it forced her to spend time with new people, that was just an added bonus.

Now time to put operation Darci-comes-out-of-her-shell into action.

“So what do we want to do first?” she piped up.

They all glanced around at the various rides and booths, Mary’s gaze landed on a large, white tent “How about we see what’s in there?”

“Sure,”

“Sounds good,”

“I’m ok with anything,”

Reaching a lukewarm agreement, the five of them headed over to the tent in question. Stepping inside, Darci was hit with an odor that was musty and undeniably animal. Looking around, she saw that the whole tent was full of small to medium sized cages sitting on the straw covered ground and on plastic tables set up around the room. 

“I think this is where 4H is showing some of their animals,”

Toby crept closer to one of the cages, looking at the swan contained in it with wide eyes, only for the bird to flare it’s wings and hiss menacingly at him, causing all five of them to jump back.

Jim let out a nervous laugh “Hah...didn’t know swans could hiss like that,”

Darci raised an eyebrow “Have you seen canadian geese? Birds are monsters,”

Mary edged around the swan’s cage, making sure to never turn her back to it “Maybe we should skip the birds...”

They moved over to the other side of the tent, it looked like this was the rabbit area, based on the abundance of bunnies in the cages around them.

Claire fiddled with the tag on one of the enclosures “I wonder what they judge rabbits for?”

“Says here that this one is a ‘Holland Lop’,” Mary said while squinting at a cream colored rabbit with long floppy ears “‘Junior buck’, whatever that means,”

Claire stepped over to the Holland Lop cage and looked in, Darci and the boys joining them.

“What I’m wondering,” Darci asked “Is what they do with all these rabbits after the competition is over,”

They all pondered over that for a moment.

“Meat maybe?” Toby chimed in.

They all looked back at the adorable little bunny sitting in its cage and winced. Darci thought she could even see Jim turn a little green. 

Toby flushed and shifted from foot to foot. The silence awkward and heavy.

Darci wasn’t against eating rabbit meat, at least not in principle, but definitely not while looking at one of the cute little balls of fluff.

Needing to do something to break the tension, Darci scrolled over all the rabbit cages, only to do a double take when she got to the end of the row. Not quite believing what she was seeing, Darci stepped closer to it “Guys,” she pointed at the cage sitting on the end “Look,”

They all turned towards the cage in question, each of them freezing in turn before slowly approaching. The cage held a rabbit, much like the others, but with one huge difference.

“Awesomesauce….” Toby said in a hushed, reverent whisper.

Reaching over, Mary pulled up the tag “Apparently it's a ‘Flemish Giant’,”

Claire leaned her face right up against the wire of the cage “I didn’t even know rabbits could get this big,”

The rest of them made sounds of assent, still fixed on the almost comically oversized rabbit that was still chewing on its grass, oblivious to the teenagers gawking at it. 

“This thing’s the size of a coyote,” Darci said, still reeling from the fact that this rabbit could actually exist in real life.

“I’m pretty sure even coyotes are smaller than this,” Jim added.

Claire snorted “Can you imagine, a coyote sticks its head into a rabbit hole only to come face with twenty pounds of solid bunny?”

A giggle rippled through the group.

“That would be awesome!” Toby got right near the cage next to Mary “I totally want to see this guy duke it out with a coyote now,”

“Tobes I’m pretty sure the people here wouldn’t be down with animal fight club,”

“But could you imagine!”

They all laughed. 

And just like that, the ice was broken. 

Once they were done looking at the animals, they all went and checked out the rides, which were all pretty fun, in a sketchy, county fair kind of way.

After the teacups they made a unanimous decision to take a break from rides before someone,

Claire, and Darci if she was honest with herself,

Puked, moving to the games. They were all rigged across the board, Darci knew that, but they could still be fun.

Forty minutes and thirty dollars later, all they had to show for it was a fish that Toby won and graciously declined at ring toss,

Apparently it wouldn’t get along with his Nana’s cats,

And the giant plush penguin Mary had somehow defied the odds and managed to pop ten balloons in a row to get.

Once they’d been forced to quit at the games for the sake of their lightening wallets and empty stomachs, the five of them migrated towards the food tents to get something to eat.

Snacks bought and paid for; Claire, Mary, and Toby wasted no time tucking in. Jim and Darci held back, eyeing the...food...in front of them suspiciously.

“C'mon guys,” Mary said between bites of her corn dog “It’s not going to kill you,”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that….” Jim said while nervously prodding at the golden brown lump in front of him with his fork “I like cheesecake as much as the next guy, but deep frying it seems like a mistake...”

Darci looked down at her own cheesecake uncertainly, her feelings exactly.

“Quit being such a food snob Jim,” Toby chided “We didn’t come to the county fair to not eat delicious fried foods of dubious origin,”

“Just try it guys,” Claire’s own fried cheesecake had been reduced to a paper wrapper and the wooden stick it came on “I swear it’s really good,”

Darci and Jim shared a grimace, knowing that they had lost the battle. Gingerly, Darci tore off a chunk of cheesecake with her fork and raised it to her mouth, Jim doing the same. 

She bit down and started chewing, preparing herself for the worst, but much to her surprise, it was scrumptious. The crispy fried outside and the sweet, creamy cheesecake filling went together perfectly.

“Ok I admit it,” Jim said, the picture of defeat “This is delicious,”

“Told you so,” Toby said in a sing-song tone while Mary and Claire smirked at them.

Darci opted to ignore them in favor of eating more cheesecake.

The loud beeping of a phone alarm made Darci jump in her seat and swallow her cheesecake prematurely.

Jim slipped his phone out of his pocket, causing the ringing to intensify, before he tapped the screen a few times until the sound stopped. He slid the phone back into his jacket pocket before gathering up his food.

“Sorry guys, I have to take off now,”

Skeptical, Darci glanced towards the horizon. It was really early, the sun wasn’t even down yet. What was the rush?

“Already?” Claire lowered the deep fried oreo she had been preparing to take a bite of. She sounded pretty disappointed. Of course she was, Jim was her secret, not-so-secret, crush “Do you have to go now? There’s going to be a fireworks show later,”

Jim flashed them an apologetic look while folding the paper wrapper around his cheesecake “Sorry, my mom really doesn’t like me being out too late,” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Darci jumped in, if there was anyone her that understood overprotective parents, it was her “We can hang out some more later,”

Claire’s deep fried oreo fell out of her hand and Mary’s eyes widened. They had all agreed to go to the fair together, but none of them had said anything about what they would do beyond tonight.

The stunned looks on her friends’ faces didn’t bother Darci one bit. She knew what she was doing, Toby and Jim were a lot of fun. Definitely people that they could spend more time with. 

Operations Darci-comes-out-of-her-shell and help-Claire-with-her-not-pity-date were both off to a terrific start.

Toby was smiling from ear to ear and Jim visibly brightened at this “That...sounds really nice,” he stood from the table, picked up his food, and started heading towards where his bike was parked “I’ll see you guys later, thanks again for inviting us,”

“See you tomorrow Jim,” Toby waved as his friend walked away “I’ll try to win you a stuffed animal,”

“Bye,” 

“See you later,”

“Have a good night,” 

Darci, Mary, and Claire joined Toby in waving and saying goodbye, actions Jim mirrored until he was out of sight. 

There was a brief murmuring of disappointment at Jim’s departure, but the cheerful mood quickly returned. All of them, four now, finishing their food and getting ready to go back to the rides. 

Darci swallowed the last few bites of her cheesecake and chucked the stick in the trash. Tonight  was going great. Jim and Toby were nice guys, and they’d all had a lot of fun.

They should definitely do this again.

[varietydisco]

Foolish

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith Rating: Explicit Tags: Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies AU, Period Un-Typical Homosexual Acceptance, Trans Male Characters, Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Grinding Word count: 6k

Description: After Arthur falls off the roof and busts his leg, Charles has to think of clever ways to keep him in bed.

“How are you holding up?”

Arthur paused; sweat dripped off his chin and fell into his open shirt. He leaned back and glanced over the edge of the barn roof to Charles, who stood there with a hand raised to his face. Arthur could see Charles squint behind his hand.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. He mopped his arm across his sticky forehead.

“M’fine. More or less.” He called back. “Sweatin’ my ass off, mostly.”

Charles’ lips perked up into a smile. “I can see that.”

“Damn. Even from all the way down there?”

“It’s not hard to miss.”

Arthur laughed at that, low and gruff. He turned back to hammering tiles down on the roof.

Fall was fast approaching. The mornings and evenings were getting colder, but the afternoons stayed sweltering hot. The trees around the property offered a little shade now, though soon their leaves would turn orange and red and yellow, and then before you could blink it would be winter again. Their third winter in Mactaquac, a little slice of heaven just north of Maine and the border.

Arthur finished working the tile. He felt Charles’ eyes lingering on him.

As he selected another nail from the box beside him, he hollered, “Don’t you got work to get done? That firewood ain’t gonna chop itself, and I’ll be damned if I freeze on your behalf tonight.”

“You need to lose about fifty pounds before freezing is an issue.”

Arthur laughed at that again. Laughing seemed to come easy these days.

“Well, you’re the one who keeps feedin’ me.”

Charles was thoughtful silent for a moment, while he waited for Arthur to finish hammering.

“Consider it my vice.” He finally said, his voice carrying a smile.

Arthur glanced back. Charles had turned around and made his way instead towards the previously abandoned woodpile. On the way there, Charles grabbed his shirt from the bottom hem and pulled it up over his head. He tossed the article aside and yanked the axe out of the chopping block. He hefted it into his palm, selected a chunk of wood from the pile, and tossed it up onto the block.

Arthur sat back on his knees a little more and craned his neck to get a better look. Charles was turned partially away, which gave Arthur the perfect view of his muscled back and shoulder blades working as he swung the axe. Arthur whistled soft and low.

Canadian geese honked overhead. The warm breeze came by, brushing Arthur’s long hair against the back of his neck. The heavy thunk of wood splintering rang out methodically. The sun beat down, unforgiving, on the both of them.

Arthur pursed his lips, leaned back farther. He reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow with the crook of his forearm. Charles almost seemed to glow in the afternoon light; like a Greek god that had been brought to life. He always wore baggy clothes and that was enough to trick some people into thinking he was soft, but in reality, Charles was solid from head to toe—just thick and beautiful.

Arthur, personally, was quite fond of it. He stared a few beats longer than he needed to, as if he hadn’t been waking up beside Charles for the past three years.

Charles paused long enough to flip his hair over his shoulder. He turned his head a bit, and Arthur caught the profile of his mischievous smile. As always, it made his stomach flip.

“I don’t hear that roof being finished.” Charles announced.

Arthur huffed. “It’ll get there. You worry about your work.”

Charles gave him that smile a second longer, then returned to chopping wood. His arms raised above his head, his muscles rippled, and then the axe swung back down.

Arthur wiped his forehead again. His shirt was drenched with sweat, but he didn’t have the same confidence that Charles did to be running around shirtless whenever he pleased. Hosea worked hard through the years to beat any insecurities out of him in that regard, though Arthur supposed that was neither here nor there. Charles had the advantage of naturally being small chested and muscular, while Arthur had always bordered on plain pudgy. Oh well. Charles never seemed to mind, and that was all that mattered to Arthur.

Arthur reached over and felt around for the box of nails. Charles grunted as he slammed the axe back down; his pants edged their way down his hips.

Arthur miscalculated where the box was and knocked it sideways. Nails clattered across the roof, spilling this way and that.

“Damn it all,” Arthur hissed. He lunged to the side to grab the box.

His foot slid, then the rest of his body followed as he lost his balance.

With a great cry, Arthur tumbled off the roof.

                                                         —30—

The doctor clipped his bag shut, nodding.

“Like I said, sir, it’s only a minor break. Along with the scrapes and the bumps.” He collected his hat from the bedside table and placed it on his bald head. “Two weeks rest and you’ll be good as new. You might fancy a cane for a while, if your leg starts to ache.”

Arthur folded his hands over his chest, one of which was bandaged, not quite sure how to feel about himself. He was laid in bed, stripped down to his long johns and an undershirt, with his right leg propped up two pillows high. Said leg was wrapped firm in gauze up to about his knee and held in place by two short boards.

“I ‘preciate it, doc.” Arthur said. “But just what the hell do you expect me to do for two weeks?”

The doctor smiled, calm and patient. Maybe even a little sympathetic.

“Bugger me if I know. The best thing you could do is treat it like a vacation, I suppose.”

“Vacation?” Arthur repeated. “Never heard anythin’ like that before. Sounds dangerous.”

Charles chuckled from the corner of the room. He stayed silent otherwise, his heavy arms crossed over his chest as he observed Arthur. His long johns were bunched up to his knee and his undershirt bulged over his round midsection. Arthur was bigger now than he’d ever been, but Charles didn’t mind. Three square meals a day and not having to worry about dying in a shootout did a lot for Arthur’s physique.

Arthur met Charles’ eyes across the room. Charles had his little smirk and that dark, amused look in his eyes.

It sent shivers through Arthur, despite everything.

The doctor collected his bag and tucked it under his arm.

“Whatever you decide to do, just take it easy, mister Morgan.” The doctor said.

“It’s Morgan-Smith, technically,” Arthur offered. “On account of we didn’t have a quarter to flip at the time.”

Charles rolled his eyes with a soft scoff and a smile. The doctor found the statement quite funny, but he held back his chuckle in favour of clearing his throat and smiling.

“Two weeks bed rest. Little movement here and there after a week, or so. Whiskey for the pain, if you need it.”

He touched the brim of his hat to Arthur. “Mister Morgan-Smith.”

He then turned around and shook Charles’ hand; firm, for a small man. “...And mister Morgan-Smith.”

“Thank you again, doctor.” Charles said.

The doctor wished them both well and let himself out. Charles and Arthur’s eyes met again, and Charles grinned. Arthur looked almost comical laid up in bed, hands folded over his chest and his leg stuck out, the only part visible from the knee down being his pink toes.

Arthur waited a polite second until he heard the front door clatter to ask, “And why do you look so pleased with yourself?”

The smile on Charles’ face spread, broad across his dimpled cheeks. He pulled away from the corner and came to the bedside.

“I think it’s funny that I did that to you.”

“Wasn’t funny when I was on the ground.”

“No, I guess it wasn’t.” Charles agreed as he sat down on the edge of the bed. One hand slid up Arthur’s arm, while the other brushed Arthur’s sweaty bangs out of his face. Charles kissed his forehead, then continued, “Scared me shitless, then. But it’s funny now that I know you’re alright.”

Arthur huffed. His eyes darted between Charles’ hand and his face. Arthur smiled with the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve seen me go through worse than this.”

“Still scared me all those times, too.” Charles’ expression was gentle and lost the teasing edge. “I’m glad you’re okay, mister Morgan-Smith.”

Arthur laughed. He put his head back in the pillows

“Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?” Arthur’s hand went up; his bandaged knuckles brushed against Charles’ cheek.

“It’s fine.” Charles said softly. “Suits you.”

Charles pressed his lips to Arthur’s, drew him into a sweet kiss. Arthur mumbled against Charles, though otherwise he closed his eyes and cupped Charles’ cheek to keep him close. They stayed like that for a long moment; the feel of Arthur’s lips was sweeter than honey to Charles, and more than he thought he would ever be entitled to.

Charles pulled back slow and reluctant. He looked down at Arthur for a long moment, then patted him on the chest.

“I’ll go start the fire, you get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“Two weeks worth,” Arthur replied. He let his hand fall away from Charles and onto the bed. He watched his husband cross the room, then whistled. “Charles.”

Charles glanced back. Arthur wore a stupid grin.

“Take your shirt off while you’re at it so I can fall outta bed and break my other leg, too.”

                                                        —30—

“You know somethin’?”

Charles looked up from the branch he was whittling; it would, hopefully, become a cane in a day or two. He sat in his rocking chair in the corner, bobbing back and forth slowly. The evening wind rattled at the shutters and the lamps flickered on the wall, bathing their room in a dim glow.

“What’s that?”

Arthur pursed his lips together. He flicked his eyes between the cigarettes he was rolling and Charles. He was still holed up in bed, mostly untouched, though him and Charles had a field day earlier trying to rebandage his busted leg after a bath.

“I love you dearly, I swear I do...”

Charles hummed, either in acknowledgement or agreement.

“...But if you leave me here to roll cigarettes for one more day, I promise you I will proper lose my mind.”

Charles smiled. His gaze lowered again to the branch in his lap.

“It’s only been three days, Arthur.”

“Feels like a goddamn eternity.” Arthur finished rolling his cigarette and flung it into the tin with the rest. “Makes me understand why people go nuts and chop their husbands and wives to bits.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

“I’m considerin’ it.”

Bitterly, Arthur took up his rolling papers again. The wind whistled louder, and only served to remind him of all the work he had left to do around the ranch before winter set. The barn roof needed to be finished, firewood needed to be chopped, and those shutters needed to be replaced. Not to mention they needed to get their pantry filled for those times when the snow would be too thick at the pass to get into town. Canadian winters were unforgiving, and Arthur doubted they would go easy this year because he was hurt.

As the silence fell them again, Arthur scoffed and shook his head.

“You know, I’m just about tired of nursin’ my leg, anyhow, cigarettes and whatnot aside. I oughta be gettin’ up and movin’ before I forget how to walk altogether.”

“Doctor said you had to wait a week.”

“No, I reckon he told me as soon as I felt fine I was good to work again.”

Charles looked up. Arthur caught his smirk and immediately Arthur knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Charles had to say.

“I asked him yesterday while I was in town. He said a week in bed, minimum, to set the bone. Then you can start walking.”

Arthur scoffed. He brought the cigarette to his lips to lick the paper, then rolled it between his fingers. “This is the one time in my life I’m willin’ to get up and go to work, and here you are holdin’ me back.”

“I’m wretched, I know.”

“C’mon, Charles,” Arthur’s voice dropped the annoyance and settled for a plead instead. “Wheel me outside, or somethin’, even just let me sit on the porch. I’m tired of stewin’ in my own stink here.”

Charles always had a killer poker face when they were running in the gang. He was good at keeping what he was thinking to himself; a lot of times, that lead people to believe he was mean inside and out, or at least just indifferent to everything. If you spent enough time with him, though, and paid close enough attention, he was more expressive than most thought.

What Arthur saw in Charles’ face now was pure pity, his brows eased together, and his lips pursed.

Even though he meant well, Arthur felt awful. He never liked it when people gave him pity.

“In the morning, maybe. It’s sleeting rain out there, now.”

Arthur finished rolling the cigarette and disposed of it into the tin like the others. He huffed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know; on account of me not having been outside in about five weeks.”

“Three days,” Charles corrected. Keeping his pitiful smile about him, Charles propped the cane on the wall beside him and got out of his chair. “You want a cup of coffee, or anything?”

“A glass of whiskey would be nice,” Arthur said. He put the lid on the cigarette tin and put away all its fixings. “For my awful, achin’ pain...”

“Right. I guess I can do that... Since I’m holding you captive.”

“It’s the least you could do, truly.”

They both shared a little smile for a moment, and then Charles left the room. Arthur listened to his heavy footfalls, waited until they tapered off for the cellar, and then he promptly threw the blanket off himself.

He lifted his bad right leg up an inch off the mattress and shifted it towards the edge of the bed. Biting his cheek to keep from making a sound, Arthur hooked it over the edge and then swung his good leg around to follow. His bad leg throbbed something awful now that it was being moved, but so far, it was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before.

Arthur sat up fully at the edge of the bed. He gripped onto the side table with one hand and took a deep breath.

“Here we go,” he mumbled to himself. With that extra motivation, Arthur pulled himself to his feet.

He overestimated himself at first and put too much weight on his bad leg. Searing pain shot through it hot enough that it almost made Arthur crumble. He worked through it, instead, determined at least to make it to the living room for some decent scenery. Taking in another deep breath and holding on tight with gritted teeth, Arthur used the bedside table as a crutch and did a half-hop over to the windowsill.

He grabbed that ledge instead, though it left him bent awkwardly at the waist. Keeping all his weight off the bad leg, Arthur hopped towards the window and straightened himself out. Sweat poured down his face. His leg throbbed—throbbed like someone was beating him with a red-hot hammer.

Minor break, his ass; if this was minor, Arthur didn’t want to imagine what a major one would entail.

Arthur inched his way across the windowsill. His eyes fell on the unfinished cane; he didn’t fancy getting splinters, but there was no way they could feel as bad as his leg did right now.

Breathing shakily, Arthur reached out for the branch. His fingers brushed the handle, but he was just out of reach from it; when he went to grab it, he jostled it instead, causing it to roll to the floor. Arthur tried to catch it, to no avail.

“You clumsy goddamn oaf!” Arthur cussed to himself.

He learned his lesson last time about trying to catch things that were falling, so Arthur didn’t try to bend down and grab the cane. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes instead and wondered if this was even worth it. The pride of knowing he could get out of bed at least was pretty good, but would the means really justify the end in this case? At the same time, though, he had gotten this far, Arthur could just as easily hobble his way into the living room and collapse on the couch.

It would be better than laying in bed for another week. Arthur decided to take his chances. He scooted forth, grit his teeth through the pain, and used Charles’ rocking chair as a lean. He hobbled along, and before he knew it, he had made it to the hallway outside their bedroom door. Five more steps and he’d be on the couch, except Arthur’s head was starting to throb from the pain, too.

He took a second to collect his thoughts. With one shoulder leaned on the wall, and his bad leg awkwardly held up behind him, Arthur clutched his forehead. Mumbling, breathing, and cussing softly to himself in hopes it would take the edge off.

It was too late when he realized the pounding in his ear wasn’t just his temple throbbing. Upon looking up, Arthur squinted, and saw Charles standing there in the entrance to the living room. His brows were furrowed, and his lips tugged in a frown. He had a tin cup in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in another. The good stuff, Arthur noted.

“Howdy, Charles,” Arthur managed. “Fancy meetin’ you here.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief. “Are you an idiot?”

“I’ve been told a few times.”

Charles didn’t have anything smart to say to that. Rather, he tucked the whiskey in his back pocket and put the cup around one of his fingers, so that he could come and take Arthur’s arm. He slung it over his wide shoulder, giving Arthur enough leverage to lean on.

“You need to get back to bed.” Charles stated. His voice was low and flat. “You shouldn’t be out at all.”

Still sweating and breathing raggedly from the pain, Arthur nodded his head. He hobbled along with Charles’ help, back the way he came.

“I reckon that’s a fine idea.”

                                                        —30—

Charles squeezed the middle of Arthur’s leg and watched his expression for change. “How’s that?”

Arthur’s face contorted. He promptly hid it behind his glass of whiskey as he drank. He smacked his lips after.

“S’fine,” he mumbled. “But it’d be better if you didn’t have your ham hands on it.”

“Sorry.” Charles paused as he squeezed Arthur’s leg again, higher up this time. “It helps blood flow.”

Arthur hissed, then mumbled something to his cup. Charles assumed it wasn’t a flattering statement of any kind, so he didn’t ask Arthur to repeat himself.

He focused rather on working Arthur’s leg. From his knee, Charles squeezed his way down, palms pressing firmly against the bandages. It was easier to handle the wound without his long johns in the way, so the only thing that gave Arthur modesty now was his cotton undershirt and the blanket over his waist. The bandages felt hot under Charles’ palms and possibly inflamed; he made mental note to fetch the doctor in the morning, if it persisted.

After working along the entirety of Arthur’s calf, Charles slid his hands up to Arthur’s knee and thigh. He squeezed, focused more on the task at hand than anything else.

Arthur got quiet.

Charles didn’t think much of it at first. He continued to massage and squeeze. The only thing that prompted him to stop was Arthur clearing his throat.

Charles glanced up, his hands paused around Arthur’s thigh. He observed Arthur’s face, noted how his eyes were closed and head tilted back. He dangled the cup lazily at his side with a bent arm. His scruffy cheeks were tinted red.

“...Something the matter?” Charles asked.

Arthur cocked an eye open. He looked down at Charles, kneeling at the end of the bed and hunched over him. He wet his lips and shook his head.

“No... Keep goin’.” Arthur breathed. He set his cup on the nightstand along with the bottle. The whiskey took the edge off the pain, amongst other things.

Charles took that with a nod. His hands skirted back down to Arthur’s calf, though he paused to rub his thumbs over Arthur’s bruised knee. He leaned down and laid a kiss just above it. Then he dragged his lips upwards and pressed another to Arthur’s thigh.

Arthur made a soft noise. “Charles...”

Charles’ mouth moved farther upwards. With his lips pursed in a smile, he brushed them against Arthur’s soft thigh. He kissed again, and then again, and again; carefully spreading Arthur’s legs as he went, inching his way upwards and inwards.

Arthur squirmed. The warmth from Charles’ heavy hands and his soft lips went straight up his spine in shivers, and then pooled deep in his belly. He brought his unbandaged hand down to stroke the top of Charles’ hair.

“It’s a kind gesture,” he muttered. “But it’s only gonna serve to rile me up.”

Charles’ eyes flickered up, dark but hot with mischief.

“I’m aware.”

The way the words fell off Charles’ tongue, combined with the look in his eyes, made Arthur moan.

“Well... In that case, then.”

Arthur took the hand out of Charles’ hair and used it instead to pull the blanket aside, exposing himself.

Charles happily shifted from the end of the bed to follow the curve of Arthur’s hairy thighs. As he went, Charles laid more kisses and gentle love bites, each one of which made Arthur twitch and tense beneath him.

Arthur flung his arm across his eyes. He sucked in a breath as Charles nibbled the inside of his thigh, ever so close to his core.

“Haven’t you done enough damage already?” Arthur asked.

“Not nearly.”

Charles laid fully between Arthur’s thighs and spread them apart. His palms roamed across Arthur’s hipbones, and then across the soft rise of his belly under his shirt, pushing the article up. Charles kissed the inside of Arthur’s thighs, before he brought his arms back and hooked them under Arthur. Charles took a moment to lean forward, paying special attention to Arthur’s soft belly. He kissed his navel.

Arthur sighed, his head completely tilted back, only to jump when Charles grabbed his chub and squeezed gently. Arthur craned his neck to look down again, scruffy cheeks flushed pink. Charles met him with a smirk.

“You’re so soft,” Charles stated. He kissed at Arthur’s belly again, then let his tongue trace downwards, through his happy trail.

Arthur rolled his eyes. Embarrassed, he laid back and focused on the feel of Charles’ trailing tongue.

Charles pulled his face back. One of his heavy, hot hands moved from Arthur’s waist to splay low on his belly; Charles ran his fingers through Arthur’s bush, parted him at his center, then followed up with his tongue.

Arthur breathed deep. His eyes trailed downwards to watch Charles. Most of Charles’ face was hidden below him and behind the mound of curls there. His eyes were closed.

Arthur bit his lip hard, chest rattling again as Charles explored him with a confident tongue; precise movements melted into broad licks across the whole of him. Charles circled his tongue around Arthur’s cock, and then closed around it, sucking softly.

Charles moaned against him. Arthur tensed all over, then forced himself to relax again. He savoured the building pleasure low in his belly. With a sigh, he folded an arm behind his head; the other one trailed down, his fingers brushing against Charles’ clutching his waist.

Without missing a beat, Charles took Arthur’s hand and squeezed. His tongue lavishly rolled over Arthur’s stout, stiffening cock.

Arthur choked on an inhaled, “Damn!” His hips jerked up into Charles’ mouth on instinct.

In reply, Charles pressed closer against Arthur, his shoulders tight to the other’s thighs, and his tongue stroked every part of him. Charles mouthed at Arthur’s wetness, the broad of his tongue licking up, over and over. Charles’ stubbled upper lip rubbed against Arthur’s sensitive cock and his tongue toyed with his hole. It all drove Arthur crazy in the best way possible.

“Go back up, just a bit,” Arthur moaned. “Just a bit.”

To encourage Charles further, he brought his free hand down and slipped it into Charles’ long hair. Arthur lifted his hips and pushed them more into Charles’ eager mouth.

“Mm-hm,” Charles mumbled against him.

The vibrations from his deep, smooth voice went through Arthur’s core and left him throbbing even more. Soaked through and through, Arthur could only moan as Charles’ firm tongue licked him again, and his attention finally fell on his aching cock.

Charles pumped Arthur’s dick with his mouth, sucking it almost in waves. Arthur’s heart raced as the heat in his belly coiled. He rocked his hips, desperately chasing that pleasure and the solid feel of Charles’ stubbled chin on him. Arthur’s voice hitched in a moan as they fell in rhythm with each other—his rolling hips with Charles’ pulsing mouth.

A sweat broke out on Arthur’s flushed cheeks and chest. His breathing got more ragged the closer he got. He squeezed Charles’ hand in a vice grip.

“Sweet goddamn Jesus,” Arthur practically sang. “Just like that, just like that— Jesus, Charles!”

Arthur arched straight off the bed when he came, far more intense and sudden than he anticipated. Pleasure washed over him, numbing everything out; for a moment, all Arthur felt was that sweet relief, Charles’ heavy hands on him, and an impossibly hot mouth sucking his cock.

While he worked through his orgasm, Arthur continued to fuck himself into Charles’ mouth. Charles accepted it all with a welcome, rhythmic tongue, which stroked circles around Arthur’s cock and flicked it gently, before going lower and sucking him there as well.

Arthur could barely breathe by the end of it. Mind reeling, he reclined back into the bed; he sunk down into the pillows, dazed eyes trained on the ceiling.

“Charles, you’re a saint,” Arthur breathed. His hand moved down to stroke Charles’ cheek and his eyes sagged partially shut.

Charles grinned, obviously pleased with himself. He pressed another kiss to the inside of Arthur’s thigh and then peeled back. His fingers slid out of Arthur’s hand as he sat back on his knees.

For a second, Charles just drank in the scene. There was something indescribably beautiful about Arthur in that moment; satisfied and spent, he laid out on their bed with his cheeks flushed pink, his dusty blond hair damp on his forehead, and his sparkling blue eyes glazed with dwindling pleasure.

Charles wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Slowly, Arthur caught his breath. He turned his head towards Charles staring at him longingly. A smile took Arthur’s lips, and he motioned his hand.

“Get up here.”

His voice was shaky at the edges but commanding regardless. Charles replied with his own smile as he crawled back up the bed and along Arthur’s body.

Arthur took his husband into his arms and clutched him close. Charles slid in between Arthur’s spread thighs. He carefully positioned himself away from the broken leg, and then he leaned his weight down into Arthur. Arthur wrapped his arms around Charles’ shoulders, knotted a hand into his hair, and greedily crushed their lips together.

Arthur could taste himself in Charles’ mouth, but he didn’t care an inch. He just moaned, along with Charles, and let his hand stroke every curve and bump over Charles’ clothes. They sucked and nibbled each others’ lips as they kissed, hot and sloppy, until Arthur mumbled into Charles’ mouth, “Ride me, sweet thing.”

The lust in his voice made Charles shiver and a spark of desire go through him. His own dick twitched.

“You sure?”

“‘Course. I can handle it.”

Promptly, Arthur caught Charles’ mouth again; he moaned, kissed his way in, slow and deep. Arthur’s hands slid up under the hem of Charles’ shirt, across his quivering belly and to his ribs. Charles melted into his eager kiss and delicious touch.

Doing as told, Charles broke their kiss and sat back enough to rid himself of his pants. Once they were shed over the side of the bed, he straddled Arthur’s good leg. He slid forward and settled himself on Arthur’s thick thigh. Charles made a show of pulling off his shirt, and he flung it aside without a care, letting it join his pants. Charles flipped his hair over his shoulder, and upon giving Arthur an excited smile, started rocking his hips.

Arthur’s hands jumped back to Charles’ body. They were eagerly followed by his wide, blue eyes, which scraped across Charles’ whole form as if entranced. He wet his lips as he stroked his hands over Charles’ ribs, and then to his firm pecs.

“This okay?” Arthur asked. He pressed, gently rolling Charles’ hard nipples under his palms.

Charles breathed heavily himself. He arched his back into Arthur’s touch and rocked his hips with more urgency. He was wet enough already that there was little resistance; he slid smoothly against Arthur’s thigh while nodding his head.

“Perfect,” Charles mumbled in reply. He held onto one of Arthur’s wrists, to keep him close. His other hand stretched out behind him and clasped Arthur’s knee for support.

Charles let his full weight sag down as he rutted with full, steady movements. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes slid shut; as he grinded his dick down against Arthur’s large thigh, his lips parted. Breathy noises and low, soft moans escaped him.

Arthur watched in awe. Charles’ naked body above him was beyond beautiful. Arthur squeezed his pec with one hand, while he let the other one slide down across Charles’ fuzzy chest. He followed the dark treasure trail downwards, and for a moment he let his hand rest on Charles’ broad stomach. Arthur breathed deep himself, words beyond him, before he propped his leg up, brining Charles forward, and moved to clutch his hip instead.

As Arthur’s leg pressed harder against him, Charles moaned. He leaned forward, hair falling in curtains around his face, both hands planted on the bed beside Arthur’s shoulders instead. Charles rocked his hips quicker, desperately chasing his own building orgasm.

Arthur bounced his leg best he could to help Charles out. He stroked his hand over Charles’ chest, fingers teasing his nipple. Charles moaned louder, and Arthur’s mouth watered.

“Arthur,” Charles said suddenly. His voice was heavy and breathy. His hips never lost pace and left a slick wet spot across Arthur’s thigh.

“Yeah, sweet thing?”

Charles planted one of his hands on the left side of Arthur’s chest. Under his wide palm, he felt Arthur’s heart pound. Charles parted his full lips and the softest sound left him.

“I love you.”

Arthur’s heart slammed, and his body throbbed with a hundred different sensations. No matter how many times he heard Charles say those words, they always made him feel so good; good to the point where Arthur didn’t think he deserved it. But he loved it. God, he loved it.

“You know I love you, too,” Arthur whispered back.

He caught glimpses of Charles’ face under his cascading hair. His jaw rolled, eyes screwed shut as his hips worked faster. He always got the cutest expression before he came, Arthur thought. So, taking this stride, Arthur propped his leg up higher, braced it more solidly, and then grabbed Charles by the hips to help him move faster.

Charles gave a drawn-out moan, deep from his chest. His head tilted back as the pleasure curled red hot in his belly and between his thighs. Everywhere Arthur touched him felt like fire, but in the best way possible. Breathing shakily, Charles quickly approached his peak, and then he seized.

Charles was quieter as he came, though his body quaked as he did. He gave little spasms as he rocked against Arthur.

An even hotter wetness spread on Arthur’s thigh. For those few moments, it helped Charles slide back and forth as he finished completely, his own flushed cock twitching. He only rutted a second more, before it became too much for his over-stimulated cock.

Charles sighed as the pleasure settled over him. His shoulders sagged, and Charles shifted over to one side.

His intention was to grab a rag and clean them both up before the cold of the room made the wet spot in the bed unbearable; instead, Charles underestimated his size, and as he swung himself around to crawl out of bed, he dropped his knee into Arthur’s bad leg.

Relaxed and content as Arthur had been, he quickly jumped back into action. With a cry, he folded in on himself and lurched up. He cursed loud, hands going to grab his leg.

Once he realized what he had done, Charles jerked back to his previous position and decisively sat there, awkwardly half-straddling Arthur’s good leg.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Charles said. He swung to his right and climbed out that way. He went for Arthur’s beside table.

“It’s fine. It was only an accident,” Arthur managed through gritted teeth. He clamped his hands over his bad calf, waiting for the pain to subside. “Or at least I hope to hell it was.”

Charles poured a generous glass of whiskey. After twisting the cap back on, he offered the cup to Arthur.

Once the pain eased enough, Arthur accepted the cup and sucked back its contents. At this point, Charles climbed back in at his side of the bed; when Arthur laid down, Charles curled into his side. Despite everything, a little smile spread his flushed face as he rested his cheek on Arthur’s chest.

For good measure, and as an apology, Charles kissed Arthur’s collarbone. Arthur huffed himself as he put his arm around Charles’ shoulder. His leg still throbbed, but it slowed to a manageable pace.

To chase his whiskey, Arthur got a cigarette from their tin and lit it up. After taking a puff, he handed it off to Charles. It took a few moments for him to talk.

“...I reckon I oughta be glad you busted me up,” Arthur finally mused. Smoke tumbled out of his mouth and filled the air. “Since this is how you seem to show your pity—with good sex and liquor in bed...”

Charles hummed, mild guilt building in his chest. After taking a drag, he rolled the cigarette between his fingers a moment. “I’m sorry again for that. Imagine, though, what I could do to you if you weren’t busted.”

Arthur made a low throat-noise. He rubbed Charles’ arm, then trailed upwards to brush his fingers through Charles’ increasingly frizzy hair.

“I didn’t think about that. That’s a good point.”

Arthur paused for a moment while Charles handed their smoke back. He flicked the ash into the tray on the side table.

Charles made himself comfortable on Arthur’s chest. Eyes slipping shut, he listened to the steady beat of Arthur’s heart, and the slight rattle to his lungs when he breathed or spoke.

“Now...” Arthur started. His chest rose under Charles’ cheek. “How can I convince you to help me outside tomorrow?”

“I almost broke your leg again sitting in your lap,” Charles pointed out. He didn’t move his head. “And you want me to take you outside?”

“Yes, I do.” Arthur took a drag. “Just don’t jump me on the way out, an’ we’ll be fine.”

Charles chuckled. He stretched an arm around Arthur’s middle.

“Easier said than done.”

Arthur grinned. “Look, I’m bedridden, not dyin’. You ain’t gotta butter me up—I swear I don’t have some great Last Will and Testament you need to worry ‘bout gettin’ yourself into.”

Charles pulled back enough to look at Arthur. His grin was small and mischievous. The exact same one that made Arthur fall off the roof to begin with.

“Then what the hell am I doing here?” Charles asked.

Arthur met his smile and shrugged his shoulders. “You’re just a fool, I guess.”

The wind rattled violently at the shutters and rain pattered on the roof. The room was bathed low in lamplight, and Charles was warm, and content cuddled up to his husband. Likewise, Arthur smoked in peace, only pausing long enough to pull the blanket up over them both.

Once they were comfortable again, Charles said absently, “Takes a fool to love one, then.”

[lindoig4]

Vancouver

The train (that is apparently known for always running late) arrived in Vancouver at 4am instead of 8am. We got up at around 6:30 and had a leisurely breakfast because the station didn’t open until 8am for us to collect our baggage.  We caught a cab to the hotel, to be told that we couldn’t check in until 4pm!  Never heard that anywhere else - the latest we had heard anywhere before was 2pm.

Anyway, we left our luggage in the baggage room and bought tickets for the HOHO bus - at a 30% discount just for that one day!  Lucky us.

It was a bit drizzly, but they get rain on more than 250 days a year so perhaps it was not unexpected.  We rode the bus around the full circuit and stayed on for another half circuit until we got back to Gastown where we hopped off for a really nice lunch in a hole in the wall place along the main street close to the Steam Clock - a really fascinating piece of historical equipment.

The commentary on the bus was excellent: entertaining and informative and the sights were really great.  The huge Stanley Park and beach areas were particularly beautiful and the whole experience was miles ahead of the equivalent HOHO in Toronto - and so was the city!

By the time we had enjoyed a slow lunch, the rain had almost stopped so we strolled down to the waterfront where we watched a seal frolicking around, presumably for our entertainment.  Two huge cruise ships we berthed there so we wandered around the terminal area and reminded ourselves how much we would hate to be on such a big ship - and these were only about a third as big as the massive floating cities that have been put into service in the past few years.

We finished the second circuit on the HOHO bus and returned to our room and ate a very nice, albeit very expensive, meal in the restaurant.  I have been hanging out for something spicy so I thoroughly enjoyed a Vindaloo and we shared a bottle of really excellent local cab sav.  Perhaps surprisingly, the Canadian reds are really worth looking out for!

We reckon that Vancouver is a very attractive city, vibrant and progressive, with lots of life and proud of its identity and achievements.  It had a good feel about it and perhaps the moody drizzle set the scene for us in the morning before a bright and sunny afternoon.  All in all, a good day and we were delivered back to the hotel just as the reservations desk opened!

Monday was an adventure day!  We went on a harbour lunch cruise and although we might have been able to get to the starting point on our HOHO ticket (a lot of HOHO tours give you two days for the price of one), timing was a bit tight so we took a cab through some more lovely moody mist and boarded our boat.  I guess there were about 100 of us, but we were on the upper (enclosed) deck, right near the window and close to the door to the forward viewing deck outside - the best seats in the house I think. There was a bit of commentary, but not at all invasive, and the food was excellent too.  We chatted with people on either side of us and they introduced us to Caesars - a bit like spicy Bloody Marys on steroids.  I didn’t think they were that alcoholic, although they said they usually were, but they were certainly delicious and something we might try to make at home.

The scenery was spectacular.  The surrounding mountains were often lost in the clouds, but they were awesome and we passed several islands crowded with huge trees and nesting places for birds, mainly gulls and Canada Geese.  Parts of the shoreline were festooned with mansions, often owned by celebrities unknown to us uncivilised Aussies (I had heard of Steve McQueen though) but there were lots of exotic big hideaways set into the forest and only accessible by boat.  Great for people like Howard Hughes - another name even a pleb like me recognised.  The cruise went along the northern side of the main harbour for several kilometres and into Indian Arm, a delightfully remote stretch hemmed in by mountains and forests.  The rain came and went a few times, drizzles and serious showers, interspersed with short periods of bright sunshine.  The end of the cruise was at Silver Falls where the bow was edged in to within a metre of the shore and everyone crowded in to take photos of a great little waterfall - not quite Niagara, but pretty anyway.

We then returned to the dock where we had boarded by following the southern shore, again with a bit of interesting commentary.  It was a lovely 4 hours in wonderful surroundings - but then came the adventure segment.

We decided to walk along the Harbourside Gardens to the place we wanted to catch the HOHO bus home again and out in the middle of nowhere, it rained.  I am not talking about a huge flooding deluge, but REAL rain such as even the locals who are used to heavy downpours had not seen before.  It pelted down and despite hiding out in the trees in our raincoats, we were drenched in seconds.  We decided that we couldn’t get ant wetter so kept walking another 100 metres to where we could get into the basement of the Convention Centre and tried to reorganise our backpacks a bit.  Alas, too late!  Everything was already wet and there was a pool of water in the bottom of mine.

We ended up walking along a service road under the Convention Centre with cars and trucks whizzing by, water pouring out of broken drains above, below and beside us, and great gushing fountains metres high from flooded stormwater drains underneath the road.  There were big pools of water everywhere and our shoes were soon full.  A guy in a car eventually stopped and told us how to get into a mall from the back door and we finally made it out to the main road and caught the last HOHO for the day.  But wait, there’s more........

There were a few other drowned rats like us on the bus and everyone was talking about the amazing deluge, but off we went on the circuit back to our hotel.  The circuit included Stanley Park and we took a slightly different route at one point and I saw a cute sign at a roadway near a small bridge – ‘Load limit 13 tons, cyclists excepted!’  Not sure how many cyclists would need to divert, but the bus was certainly over 13 ton.  A kilometre or so up the road, a Police car was blocking the r oad because a huge tree had succumbed in the storm and fallen across the road making it impassable.  Quite a few cars were coming up behind us and they were all able to be diverted back along the side road to the 13 ton bridge, but ours and another bus were stuck with nobody guessing how many hours it would be before they could clear the road.

After quite some time, a couple of cops came on motorbikes and escorted the buses back down the one-way road we had come along. There were still cars coming up the hill and several times, they blocked the corners the buses had to negotiate and the cop had to turn them around or reroute them, to allow us to get through.  It was quite an adventure.  Some people were probably stranded at other stops our bus couldn’t reach and we had to take a different route so saw things that we hadn’t seen on the official route.  By now it was after 7.30 and the bus is supposed to finish at 6.30 so once the other passengers alighted where they needed to go, we just told the driver to skip the rest of the route and take us to our hotel by the easiest way she could.  We had started to dry out a little by then, but once we got to our room, we converted it into a Chinese laundry for a bit over 24 hours and got everything almost dry - although I still put damp socks on this morning 2 days later!

We were supposed to go on the seaplane Mail Run next day, a flight to a few islands dropping off and picking up mail and parcels, but I had lots of cramps during the night (too long wearing wet cold shoes and clothes the day before) and Heather had a bad night with a very raw throat (same reason no doubt) so we rang them before 7am and cancelled it.  They wanted to charge us a cancellation fee despite our documentation saying we could cancel up to 15 minutes before the flight with no penalty.  As it happens, we hadn’t paid anything and they didn’t know our credit card details, so they were whistling Dixie anyway so we spent the day in our room recuperating.

We both blogged and Facebooked, sorted and edited photos and I spent a few hours going through all by bird photos identifying some that I couldn’t ID before when I had no internet on the train  I only added about 6 or 7, but it was a fun little job.  We also had to do a complete repack once things were dry (and seal up those few items that weren’t) so we had a full day pottering in the room.

We had enjoyed our ‘to go’ meal the previous night after the storm so went out to the same area and bought a small selection of similar things for dinner and our 4am breakfast next day before catching the bus to Seattle and the train to San Francisco.

[calculatedtheatrics]

let's be honest here if some of y'all found a portable hole the first thing you'd do is try to fuck it. the second thing would be hiding your weed stash. I am of course an intellectual and would use it to store several canadian geese for emergencies

[ear-worthy]

Freakonomics Radio Podcast: Is The New Saudi Golf League A Birdie Or A Bogey?

When was the last time that golf was controversial? When Tiger Woods’ wife tried to hit him with a nine iron for repeated infidelities?

Golf is off the sports pages onto the front page of newspapers and websites in the last week. Why?

Because 48 professional golfers, many of them members of the PGA Tour, have bolted to the LIV Golf Tour subsidized by the Saudi Arabia Sovereign Fund.

Why would Saudis launch an expensive and lavish golf tour? They clearly don’t know much about golf, given their recent interview with a British journalist.

The prospect of making money seems as remote as me getting a hole-in-hole at my local golf course, where the Canadian geese laugh at me when they see my golf swing.

Leave it to the folks at the Freakonomics Radio podcast to investigate and find an answer.

Freakonomics Radio, one of the most listened-to podcasts in the world, investigates the phenomenon known as “sportswashing” in this week’s episode.

In ancient Rome, it was bread and circuses. Today, it’s a World Cup, an Olympics, and a new Saudi-backed golf league challenging the P.G.A. Tour that just began yesterday. Can a sporting event really repair a country’s reputation — or will it trigger the dreaded Streisand Effect?

In the episode, host Stephen Dubner speaks to a group of analysts, economists, and sports figures to find out what sportswashing is — and whether it even works.

Listen to “What Is Sportswashing (and Does It Work)?” and find a transcript at freakonomics.com or wherever you get podcasts.

How much do you want to bet that LIV golfer Phil Mickelson will listen to this Freakonomics episode? Never mind, Phil has already bet a ton of money that you won’t listen. So, make Phil pay up. Listen to this episode of Freakonomics Radio.