#How much land do you need to start beekeeping?

[corner-master]

Imagine Danny gaining at first a passive interest in bee's due to Sam talking about how she'd prefer sourcing honey from local bee farms over commercial honey makers. It technically counts as plant-based which means, given her particular brand of vegetarianism, it therefore is among the many hills she'll proudly die on to project her beliefs to the world at large.

Unfortunately for everyone during the last ghost attack one of the latest casualties happened to be the local beekeepers hives. Given the amount of loss said beekeeper's have chosen to close shop and relocate elsewhere that doesn't have a ghost infestation. Sam's a bit bummed at first, but then decides she'll start her own farm, and basically drags Danny and Tucker into her latest passion project. She even manages to buy the plot of land the bee hives used to be on for dirt cheap (possibly one of the only benefits that come out of the attacks).

Sure, at first Danny and Tucker are pretty reluctant because they're teenagers and why would they want to spend the little free time they have between school and the occasional ghost fights working? The whining only lasts until Sam tells them it's basically passive money making, and you only spend a couple days out of the year actually harvesting the honey. The rest of the time can be spent just keeping the bee's safe from pests and predators and just keeping them happy, which really isn't a lot of work. The Moment Tucker hears money, he's sold, and Danny decides that since both his friends are in he might as well join them.

This is where things start to get interesting because one of the first things they do is sit down to spitball ideas at one another on how to make this a success. Tucker's motivation in the project is purely the profits and doing a little research quickly brings up the fact that Mono-floral hives, that is hives that feed on a single species of flowers, produce honey that can be sold for more than standard wild honey. Sam immediately jumps in and says that she won't be introducing any invasive species to the area. Tuck argues that they're just flowers, and Sam counters that if they spread it could screw over the native populations, and she wasn't willing to have that particular travesty attached to her name.

Just as the two are about to get into another explosive row defending their stances Danny pipes up that he could make something to keep everything contained.

For this particular idea, I'm going off the personal head-canon that despite his academic grades Danny is in fact a Bonafide genius much like the rest of his Family. He has a particular affinity in ecto-based mechanical engineering but he's no slouch in any of the sciences. Granted, It's kind of hard not to pick up these things when your parents are disassembling the random tech parts they scavenge from the junkyard and reassembling them into semi-functional contraptions at the dining table. You tend to pick them up even faster when you have to sometimes finish fixing it up so it doesn't blow up in your face but... well, that's not what's important right now. What is important is that Danny has the ability to manufacture an ecto-plasmic barrier that can easily keep everything neatly contained.

But this is only the beginning.

A spark has been ignited and, just like every other member of his family that has come across a problem that has caught their interest, it quickly consumes him.

Over the next couple hours he dives deep into researching all the current and prior methods of beekeeping, identifying all the pros and cons and problems that these methods come across and modifying them with a little Fenton ingenuity. He quickly settles on the using the Bottle Colony method to house the hives for multiple reasons:

1: Using human safe plastic bottles are lighter and therefore easier to maneuver around, as well as allow for transparent viewing of the Hive to make it easier to identify problems that need to be addressed.

2: The actual transparency of the bottle won't be a problem either. All they'll need to do is make some slip on insulators that'll block out the light and also regulate the temperature so the bee's neither fry when it gets hot nor freeze when winter sets in, so the bee's can stay content year-round.

2: Colony degeneration often occurs because the cells used to house the larvae will grow smaller with each consecutive use, resulting in smaller and smaller bees. This may also lead the queen to start laying eggs in the upper part of the hive where the honey is stored instead of the lower parts. By swapping out the top bottles and adding fresh ones at the bottom, this will allow the hives to keep the brood down low and reuse the upper cells for honey instead.

3: Wood hives have a tendency to get wet and develop mold which can not only affect the health of the colony but affect the honey as well. And while yes, the bottles themselves can also become wet, they show a significantly much lower chance of producing mold, given that the moisture would run down the sides of the bottle to the opening at the bottom instead of absorbing into the material itself.

4: The bottle method is largely contactless, which unlike the wooden frame method would cause less disturbance to the bees. it also would reduce the chances of getting stung.

5: Unlike the wooden frame structures which usually have to make contact with the ground, bottle colonies can be left suspended in the air or attached to the sides of buildings or posts, further limiting the intrusion of smaller pests.

6: Intangibility~ while this is mostly limited to him, he could just reach into the plastic bottles and easily carve out sections of honeycomb, instead of having to cut open the bottles and then discarding the plastic waste in the recycle bin. This would also make it easy to remove the queen cells to prevent swarming.

Oh, but remember that Fenton ingenuity he mentioned? Using this particular method, he could hook up a little dispensary system that can not only spread the antibiotics and medicine that will help keep the bee's healthy, but even shoot out smoke when the time comes to harvest so the bees remain calm. Heck, they could even be used to dispense sugar syrup so the bees would have more resources to replace the honey harvested.

Not only this, but he could easily set up a containment chamber that would capture a large percentage of the drones inhabiting the hive and let him safely relocate them to be disposed elsewhere because the drones? largely useless outside of mating. They have no stingers, so they can't defend the hive. They can't even eat unless they get help from the worker bees, which means wasted resources on what is about ten percent of the population, when only a handful would actually be necessary to breed queens from foreign hives. Which could be done in an enclosed space to ensure best breeding practices.

"But what about the Bee Inspectors?" Sam Pipes up from the Couch her and Tucker have sitting on, watching Danny basically Spiral into a "Fenton™" brainstorm. "Some places require inspectors to be able to pull out the sections of hive so they can check for mites or other problems. Thats why most beekeepers use frames, since otherwise the inspectors might force them to destroy the hive."

"My parents have built any number of devices that were designed to detect ghosts..." Danny replies, after a pause to take in this unexpected road bump. "... it wouldn't exactly be hard to reprogram one or two of them to scan the hives for a more normal kind of pest."

He sighs, dragging a hand down the side of his face. "And that's assuming we'd even have to deal with any inspectors that didn't choose to treat us like a bunch of lepers the moment they saw me. Fenton, remember?" he said, waving a hand up and down himself.

Sam and Tucker both wince in sympathetic pain at the reminder of just how...well-known Danny's parent's have become in recent years.

"And if one happens to be brave enough to stick around and decides the scanner isn't good enough, we can always take one of Vlad's old bugs lying around and repurpose it to give us an inside view." Danny snorts, turning back to his notes. "At least one of the Fruitloops "gifts" could be useful for once."

"Moving on-"

As for Tuckers idea for Mono-floral honey? Vertical Flower gardens. That way there's more flowers for that hive to get nectar from in the limited space provided by the shields.

Get Tucker to set up alerts that will let them know if they needed to check up on anything and boom! All the hard work (for now) is done.

*this is also all I got for now. This is just the version where I set things up for a largely normal bee farm. this isn't even getting into the intricacies of what ectoplasmic exposure will do to these bee's or their byproducts. I'm going let someone else go down the eldritch path, for now, I'm out.*

Danny Phantom AU where he’s a beekeeper

[farmerstrend]

Beekeeping In Kenya, The Significance Of The Industry

Beekeeping, also known as apiculture, is an important agricultural practice in Kenya. With a favorable climate and abundant flowering plants, Kenya is an ideal location for beekeeping. Bee farming provides numerous benefits, including the production of honey and other bee products, such as beeswax and propolis, as well as pollination services that benefit other crops. In this article, we will…

[everlastingremorse-blog]

Dungeon Meshi and the Paradox of the Winged Lion

I just finished reading Dungeon Meshi, and I really liked it. It took me about 4 days to read it, and I was looking for a good manga, and it really whet my appetite after I saw that there was an anime.

So I’ve been mulling this over since I finished it, as I needed time to digest the narrative, but also, I wanted a little intro to warn about spoilers. Lots and lots and lots of spoilers.

So we eventually learn that a certain character, The Winged Lion, is, in fact, a demon. Now, that’s not necessarily too much of a twist. I didn’t see it coming, but it didn’t completely come out of left field.

But what is really interesting is how holy and sacred The Winged Lion is. If I remember correctly, TWL is first referenced as “the land’s guardian,” by Yaad, prince of the Golden Kingdom.

Now, a lion with wings is a novel idea, even if it isn’t a super innovative one. But most importantly, that’s not the extent of TWL’s design. It’s implied his more natural state is a 4 armed, anthropomorphic, winged lion with 5 eyes and 4 horns. That’s probably not it’s original form, but it does seem to be the form it identifies with. (It’s also super hot)

Image for reference.

Now, I’m not the only person that saw it, right? This is very similar to a ‘biblically accurate angel.’

Quick note on that term, biblically accurate is a bit misleading. The Bible is full of contradictions. So an angel as a human with wings is as valid as a ring covered in eyes with a pair of wings on it. What we consider “biblically accurate,” is more often seen in stuff like Dante’s Pardisio.

Anyways, back to my point. Is TWL a demon? Or is it an angel? (Let’s put translations aside, because I do not speak Japanese nor do I think it matters too much.) But TWL is called a demon by the canaries (aka the dungeon investigation squad, I think) as the kind of the “root” of the dungeon.

TWL was explicitly summoned using “dark magic,” from a “realm of infinite energy.” Now, Marcille specifies that “dark magic” is a social construct. It’s not inherently evil or corrupting, but it is ancient magic that is taboo.

But the main point from that is that TWL is not from hell. If anything, a “realm of infinite energy” is closer to my understanding of God. A being of infinite power that is so vast that it’s own body is a dimension. That would put TWL as a kind of “angel,” a being made from god’s power/body.

Another thing about TWL is that he is inherently Faustian. He brings about the desires of others so that he can eat them. Much like a farmer or beekeeper, he has a dungeon master so that he can grow their desires and eat them (and also so that he can escape and eat all desires everywhere, all at once)

Now, the thing is is that he can’t just grant desires. He has to have a specific desire to grant, but he can only grant them in specific ways.

TWL offers to bring Marcille’s father back, but the the best he can do it make a doppelgänger. He can maybe bring Falin back, but that’s because she died and became part of the dungeon. And I haven’t made it clear before, but he is the dungeon. Thus he can maybe bring Falin back because she is a part of him.

It’s why Marcille tries to use monsters to invade the surface in order to extend her friends life. Because escaping is the only way TWL could possibly extend everyone’s life, because they would be in his stomach.

But back to the point, TWL, technically, is trying to help. He has no choice but to help. In a very Faustian kind of way, engaging with TWL damns you no matter what your desire or motivation is.

And according to Namari, being inside TWL’s stomach is pleasurable. At least at the beginning, when she only got to be there for, at most, like, 30 minutes. I don’t think the exact time is specified, but she did seem to have a good time. It’s possible, that like the citizens of the golden kingdom, it starts out pleasurable, but that doesn’t stop you from desiring new things. I personally doubt that, because they weren’t in the state of bliss that Namath described, but it is possible that the infinite realm isn’t as heavenly as it appears.

Just like The Winged Lion Himself.

Now, I am not a Christian. I only have a kind of pop-culture osmosis of Christianity that comes from living in America. So this next part might be my misinterpretation of the Christian doctrine.

So, I mentioned earlier that an angel as a human with wings is just as valid as a “biblically accurate” angel.

Thus, to make a lion divine, you can give it wings too. Angel lion. Literally, if you look up “angel lion,” that is what you get.

But lions are significantly both in fantasy and Christianity. A lion is often the symbol of a king. King of the jungle. Strong, powerful, and regal. As in Richard the Lionheart. Thus, it makes a lot of sense for it to be associated with Liaos, the future king, devourer of all horrible things. A lion is a predator, after all.

But Christianity is where it gets a bit interesting, because lions are sometimes associated with the lion of Judah. I do think this is more Old Testament stuff, ya know, pre-Jesus, but I do think it gets associated with Jesus. Check me on that if I’m wrong.

Anyways, this creates a kind of messiah symbolism that TWL shares. It is trying to bring out a revelation about how the world works. And quite frankly, he does. The queen of the elves ends up theorizing that TWL was just a manifestation of mana so that it can communicate with the sentient population. Or, it could be following Marcille’s approach, and showing that ancient magic is just another form mana can take.

This messiah metaphor is amplified by the other form TWL takes: a lamb. TWL would offer up it’s own body in the form of a lamb so that humans can eat it. Hell, that’s how it started in the world, offering up it’s body so that something else can eat.

The Winged Lion quite literally sacrifices it’s own body for the survival of others.

Finally, the winged lion is in everything, and everything is a part of the winged lion. This is most apparent in the dungeon, where monsters are literally parts of the winged lion.

It’s king of hard to see, but the winged lion’s face is made out of different monsters in the image.

I think this is significant for two reasons. Christians can see god in anything. As an atheist, this has confused me, but I think I get it. When I look out and see beauty, Christians see the beauty of god. We see the same thing, but just disagree where it comes from.

But TWL is technically in everything. Certainly the main characters, as they’ve been eating monsters, but also in the inanimate objects of the dungeon. The water and the walls and the treasure are all parts of the dungeon itself. And if TWL is, as the queen said, a part of mana itself, is inside every individual. Or it might be more accurate to say, TWL comes from something that is inside everyone.

Either way, this seems very analogous to “the Holy Spirit.”

In conclusion, this is a strange paradox because it isn’t inherently contradictory. Demon’s are not exclusively bad, even in the Bible (for example, In The Book of Job, God seeks out Satan’s advice). But it creates an ambiguity within the winged lion that examines the importance of understanding and living with life’s shortcomings; that we incorporate the world into our bodies and identities; and that sometimes the solution you’re looking for is just a hearty meal.

[bilbobagginsomebabez]

@rilmareatsglue making a new post because that other one is getting too goddamn long and i'm on my bullshit and ready to ramble. this will not be organized. also, i naturally have a course manner of speech, so i'm not trying to insult you but i am gonna stop making effort to phrase things politely

you can do something. you can buy local. everywhere you're purposefully pricing up to buy vegan, buy local instead. there's a reason every ag person wearing overalls in the country has been shouting buy local for the last 10 years. there are many benefits to this, not the least of which is completely sidestepping industrial ag (may it rest in hell).

buying local makes sense where veganism is utterly incoherent. there are many many many animal products where respectful use of them is actively good for the environment and ourselves. bees? everywhere bees are, the plants are doing better. beekeepers are one of the last obstacles preventing bee extinction and the bees will fly the fuck away if they dont like their beekeeper. buy local honey please for the love of god invest in this animal product that is actively improving the world. wool is one of the most environmentally sustainable fabrics ever. vegan leather is plastic and look. fossil fuels are worse than animals. mining is worse for the environment than a sheep. the leather made from cowhide WHEN AN ANIMAL IS TREATED WELL, FED APPROPRIATELY, AND COMPLETELY USED is better for the environment because every part of it biodegrades and it doesn't require fossil fuels to produce. buffalo leather is A M A Z I N G because we're actively fucking trying to bring the buffalo back to the plains to replace cattle and market incentives are helpful, it's disrespectful to only use part of the animal, it biodegrades and the wastewater impact is lower than mining for fossil fuels to make plastic fabric, and buffalo presence on the plains causes a positive cascade effect and reinvigorates the environment. we already need to figure out how to mass produce okra goop to filter microplastics out of the water i am so fucking sick of plastic fabric. buy wool. please just buy wool or leather it lasts longer anyway. plant fiber fabrics are preferable, but the environment needs animals and we need to prioritize our production based on what can be recycled into the environment. chickens have minimal environmental impact, are natural scavengers in times of famine, and continually provide eggs which are high in protein and nutrition. grand option for the majority of winter regions to promote food security.

tangent: god another thing about veganism that i hate is that in order to ever work in any reality, it relies on WAY WORSE SHIT like fucking fracking. FRACKING IS WORSE THAN A COW. PLEASE EVEN IF WE WERE ONLY USING THE LEATHER, THE COW IS BETTER. AT LEAST IT DECOMPOSES. i think vegans don't understand that your food system includes the waste products. you HAVE to keep in mind its production waste AND what it looks like when you're done with it. if it turns into literal poison in 30 years, it's the wrong choice. everything that is plastic based is the wrong choice ok. animals are better for the simple reason that they'll fuckin decompose and contribute to the continuation of life on this planet instead of literal poison. like it makes me fucking insane how much veganism relies on the assumption of capitalist imperialism to function, like none of the things we use in the US are manageable unless we're laying waste to cultures and environments halfway across the world for raw petrochemicals and land control. i hope to GOD that we lose access to a lot of international food products because it would mean that americans are no longer making decisions about what people halfway across the world are allowed to farm and then stealing it from them.

look into your environment, see what it needs, and start buying from the people who are going along with that. do not justify consumption of industrially produced vegan products with claims of environmental protection and DEFINITELY stop advocating for it as the be-all-end-all of ethical eating. local is ethical. local is ethical. your actual environment that you physically live in and walk through on the daily is what you should be using to make decisions about what food you buy and from who.

and plant some tomatoes or get some chickens or something. scatter a bunch of squash seeds in your local park and when they come in, hang a little sign saying they're free. look into food sovereignty, i think i have a post about it somewhere. read fresh banana leaves by jessica hernandez. google kincentric ecology.

you're not powerless, and the situation isn't hopeless. we just have to actually contend with its magnitude and drop the vegan bullshit. actually learn about your environment, how its specific nutrient cycle flows, and plan your food production to work within it and support it or look around for some farms who do and buy from them when you can. i think that the general public thinks of food production as inherently destructive when it just does not have to be and usually isn't. we started out as foragers because food grows naturally with no effort whatsoever, we live on dirt that fertilizes itself if you leave a corpse on top of it, the earth is meant to cycle nutrients. our food system can be fully and completely regenerative, we can make the earth and the environment healthier with our food system. and back to my bullshit: animals are a part of that! they have to eat the stuff we can't or don't want to and poop in the right places and carry us through the winters and provide fabric and all sorts of shit! no one is going after peruvian llamas right now because they haven't been industrialized! seriously animals are not the problem we need them so bad. they're actually a part of the life cycle, unlike popular alternatives such as *checks notes* literal poison. im so tired

it's an entirely different way of thinking. it's an entirely different way of looking at the world. it requires you to look for the systems of life that surround you and where you can fit in. and not just fit in, but where you can help instead of control.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

JL Fic Recs: Angst With Happy Ending Pt. 3

Hey all!!

OKAY, so... I somehow LOST the original ask that this list was supposed to attach to, so I’m going to just offer it as a standalone list, because I need it posted for another ask I have, LOL.

So, for whoever asked about 2 months ago for Angst with a Happy Ending, this one is for you, LOL. I’m sorry, I have no idea why your post disappeared from my drafts. Enjoy, all, a rare List Without an Ask :). ENJOY!! And as usual, add your faves! <3

ANGST WITH HAPPY ENDING Pt 3

See also:

Angst With a Happy Ending

Angst With a Happy Ending Pt. 2

Angsty Fluff

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

To the Nines by suitesamba (M, 2,724 w., 1 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Magical Realism, Pining, Angst, John Whump, Time Travel, Fortunes, Time Jumps) – John skips forward in time, and Sherlock reads the signs that point to nine. John knows he’ll eventually be with Sherlock, but the waiting is nearly impossible, and his body is a lot more than transport. A foray into magical realism where all the canon events occur, and a hell of a lot more.

Reversed by whitchry9 (K+, 3,072 w., 6 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Medical Anomolies, John Gets Shot) – The man pointed his gun at John's chest, right at his heart, and shot.' Wherein John is shot, and Sherlock is the one panicking.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

The Hand You're Dealt by Lady Sam Mallory (T, 12,092 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Light Violence, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury, Friendship) – Sherlock, John and several others are trapped in a building when an explosion disrupts the crime scene they are working.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination?, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

I Think I've Come A Long Long Way To Sit Before You Here Today by ArwenKenobi (T, 18,251 w., 3 Ch. || Grief/Mourning, Passage of Time, Major Character Death, Alternating POV, Sherlock Whump, Pining Sherlock, Hospitalization, Coma, Revenge Murders, Hallucinations, Love Confessions, Brutal Accident, Mystrade, Ghost John) – One year after John is killed Sherlock starts to wonder whether John has actually gone anywhere.

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Big Feelings, Crying, First Kiss, Fluff, Anxious Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Emotional Communication, Love Confessions) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing.Almost...magical.

Only To Be With You by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (M, 40,768 w., 4 Ch. || Black Mirror / Future AU || Character Death, Future Technology, Sickness/Cancer/Illness, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, First Person POV John, Pining John, Heart-Wrenching Angst) – I tell myself that next time I’ll come near this same place again. Wait around for the mysterious stranger in his coat to dash past me, hot on the heels of a new criminal in black. I think this all the way back to my Exit, planning where I’ll wait and what I’ll say when I see him. Scheming on how to get his name. It’s only once I reach the Exit Point door that I realize two hours and forty-five minutes have passed, and I realize that this won’t be the last time I Visit. It won’t be the last time at all.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction, Anxious/Insecure Sherlock, Miscommunication, Emotional Lovemaking) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love,  Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU ||  Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Monument of Memory by J_Baillier (M, 79,663 w., 14 Ch. || Post S4 Fix It Fic / S4 is Canon, Angst, Family Drama, Guilt, Case Fic, John Loves Sherlock, Complicated Feelings, Mentalism / Hypnosis, Murder, Grieving John, Sherlock is a Bit Not Good, Team Work, Trust Issues, BAMF John, Psychological Trauma, Protective John, Autistic-Spectrum Sherlock, Parentlock, John POV) –  A genius traumatised by a past he's only beginning to recall. The psychopath sister that time forgot. A missing woman and a mentalist who may or may not be a murderer. And, in the middle of it all, stands John Watson.

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”  

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

[speciesofleastconcern]

Speaking for the Wasps

To the Editor of The New York Times,Your recent article, “Tracking the ‘Murder Hornet’: A Deadly Pest Has Reached North America”, promotes sensationalism, fear-mongering, and threatens to unravel years of work by entomologists to dispel fear and misinformation. Shame on you for creating an unnecessarily fear-inducing article. For those of us who work with entomology, we have all had our inboxes and phones barraged by a deluge from friends, family, and even friends of friends, with messages of fear, concern, and overall confusion. Having to contend with the aftermath of an article leading with a dramatized account of “carnage”, about a species of wasp that, as far as entomologists are aware, has not actually established anywhere in the Americas, is infuriating to say the least. Yes, the article does present the facts, but the hyperbole of the piece overshadows these to the point that a layperson reader is virtually guaranteed to come away fearful of an invasion that has not yet happened. In a nation already gripped by fear from a valid and absolutely nationwide “bug”, your decision to run with this article about another “bug” that has not been seen since December, and appears confined to a few square miles in the absolute corner of this nation, shows, in my opinion, a poor judgement call. Your article, now picked up and repeated by virtually all news outlets (often with even more lurid or misleading titles), is already causing damage. I help admin the largest science-based entomology group on Facebook (with close to 142K members globally), as well as helping admin several of the other large groups. Your article has created ripples through the ranks of the novices and laypeople, now gripped with fear and misunderstanding. We’ve seen reports of at least seven species of native wasps smashed out of fear of them being “Murder Hornets”, and this only the beginning. As summer ramps up, the fear of any large insect (wasp or even bee, hover fly, moth, etc.) will lead to countless people killing native species out of unwarranted fear. Native wasps and bees are important and vital parts of our ecosystems. Those of us who work with wasps have had to deal with this stigma for years, in a constant state of trying to assuage people’s fears of them, as we try our best to show people the value of this often-maligned insect group. People fear what they don’t fully understand, and that is often so much more obvious when it comes to insects, especially groups of insects that are often disliked, like wasps. By presenting this article the way you did there is hardly any other way for the average layperson to feel, except to fear any large wasp-like insect they see. Much of our work at education has been undone by this article, and so, shame on you. Predatory social wasps like Vespa mandarinia don’t reproduce the same way other pest insects do; not all of the females can start new colonies (most are infertile workers), and only the queens, produced at the very end of their colony cycle, can do so. It’s highly unlikely the nest destroyed in Nanaimo released any new queens, so the possibility of this species not only establishing, but spreading across the land, is marginal at best. Vespa crabro, the European hornet, has been in the US for over 150 years, and it still remains limited to the eastern third of the country. Certainly we need to be vigilant about this species to be sure it doesn’t actually establish, but given we have not had any confirmed living specimens since last September, the article should have focused on the assumption of eradication, rather than to invoke emotions of invasion that our already troubled nation shouldn’t have to be dealing with. There are scientists, and of course plenty of beekeepers, who are keeping an eye out for this species to be sure those two cases last year were a one-time thing, and that’s nearly all that needs to be done or said. Your article has spawned various local news groups around the country to inform people (even thousands of miles away) on how to build “traps” for these wasps, which will only result in a huge amount of dead native insect bycatch, and of course, no V. mandarinia. By alerting the public (who, as it’s become glaringly obvious in the various entomology groups, cannot differentiate between V. mandarinia and ANY other large wasp-like insects) without emphasizing that we suspect the “invasion” has already failed, you’re only causing problems, and not helping at all. Obviously time will tell as to whether or not this species has been eradicated, but if in three or four months’ time we still see no evidence of their establishment, perhaps it would be good for you to issue an apology; to the entomologists, to the nation, and to the countless wasp-like insects that will surely be killed this summer thanks to this article. Sincerely, Sloan Tomlinson, parasitoid wasp researcher, and life-long wasp lover.

[maggotmouth]

          hillo sexthy legends !!   i’m nora and i’ll be writing margo colby n probs sm1 else bcos lets be real, i lack self-control. u can find her pinterest here n some info abt her sexy self below the cut. plot with me on discord ( hot girl midsommar#8664 ) or in my ims !!  x o x

     * CAMILA MORRONE, CIS WOMAN + SHE / HER  | you know MARGO COLBY, right? they’re TWENTY-THREE, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, ELEVEN YEARS? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS  like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole BLEACH WHITE SNEAKERS POUNDING ON A GYMNASIUM FLOOR, USING THE SAME BLUNT SCISSORS TO HACK THE SLEEVES OFF AN EXES T-SHIRT THAT YOU USE TO CUT YOUR 3AM FRINGE, A WALNUT-SHAPED ACHE IN THE PIT OF YOUR STOMACH FOR THE PERSON YOU COULD HAVE BEEN thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is AUGUST 8TH, so they’re a LEO, which is unsurprising, all things considered. ( nora, 25, gmt, she/her )

CLICK ANYWHERE ON THIS SENTENCE FOR SEXII GOOGLE DOC!!

bullet point summary of margo.

—   born margaret but NOBODY calls her that. its colby, coach or margo, and go to the privileged few. margo grew up in the creek commune n then dropped out of school cos of a teenage pregnancy so she was a bit of a cautionary tale back in’t’day (said tht in my yorkshire accent). she now works for summer camps coaching pee wee soccer and pee wee cheer, as well as helping out her beekeeper dad on his honey farm, which is jst north of abernathy creek, and working at scuba on the off seasons.

—  its just her and her dad, and has been for as long as she can recall !! everything she knows about her mum could fit on the back of the weathered passport photo she keeps in her wallet of a stranger who shares her face - her name’s melody, or at least tht was name she used when working as a dancer, she’s from argentina and dropped mag’s dad as soon as someone w more money came along.

—  margo’s father is a beekeeper with his own organic honey company. margo and her dad moved to irving in the early 00s, the summer between grade school and middle school, because her dad had heard about the communal living in abernathy creek and wanted to lend his skills there and live off the fatta the land in a very lenny from of mice and men kinda way.

—  for a few years of middle school margo was bullied for living with the ‘freaks from the creek’, but when they realised how chill her dad was with underage drinking, margo ‘keg-bringer’ colby soon gained popularity among the more renegade students. every so often, the high school parties would happen at her end of town, occasionally with members of the commune even offering the high schoolers a spiritual experience they’d never forget (often in the form of mushrooms) which meant people tried to stay on her good side. to get an invite to a margo colby party handed you a free pass to make up the most ridiculous shit about the commune you liked and nobody else could say anything, because they’d never been to the creek.

—  at school, margo had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information n her restlessness was seen as laziness. she was encouraged to do sports, as were most of the kids who weren’t that academically inclined, but she turned out to be pretty hot shit at sprinting, because she grew up surrounded by bee houses and he who runs slowest gets stung, baybeyy!! so yea, in school sports became her LIFE. she was gonna get a sports scholarship to college but ended up dropping out of school in senior year n becoming one of those kids who could have had it all but lost it.

—  she had sex with sutter at a house party when she wasnt really ready because it felt like the right thing to do at the time and everybody else was doing it. she’d attended health class, she’d seen the corny videos. she knew about all the statistics, but she also knew that it had never happened to anyone she knew and the pull out method was basically safer than the morning after pill and way less expensive.

—  a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the runnings for prom queen and meant she had to leave school early. she didn’t go to college when her friends did, instead she spent the time interviewing potential foster candidates and eating her weight in lindt chocolate while marathoning love island in her room.  

—  she had a son, who she passed off to someone else a couple of towns away.  it was a closed adoption which seemed like the best idea at the time, but she now wishes she had access to his life.

—  after peaking in high school and jumping between jobs for a few years, she got a more permanent role at scuba which she loves with all of her heart and soul, but unfortunately a bar job doesn’t pay the rent.  

—  she works at summer camps coaching  junior soccer and netball on the side. she’s extremely competitive and takes it very personally if her team lose. the kids all call her, coach colby n write her longwinded letters about how they’ll never forget this summer camp before they go back to their suburban picket fence houses n she keeps all the letters in a drawer n takes them out to read when she’s feelin depressed.

���  enjoys surfing and worked for a number of years on resorts like mila kunis’ job in forgetting sarah marshall. she went on to work 18-hour days as a stewardess on luxury yachts which is a part of her backstory i added after watching season one of below deck because i guess i really am that fucking impressionable. met most of her surf friends doing tht but said she’d never in her life do it again bcos it was mostly just picking up after rich white ppl for shit pay. she came back to irving n thats when she started doing the summer camp jobs so she could move out of the creek n get her own apartment. 

—  she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point

—  used to shoplift to feel joy and as an act of resistance to her hippy commune routes, but now sees herself as a reformed, bin-diving freegan (sims 4 eco living can i get a hell yaaaa). also she thinks it’s totally wrong to steal when you have enough money and clearly don’t need to steal to survive, ppl risk imprisonment for basic necessities, so for her to do it for a brief thrill and some new shades felt a bit derogatory

—  was raised jewish. became a vegetarian as a child because it seemed, at the time, easier than having to explain which foods she was and wasn’t allowed to eat together, so she just cut out meat entirely. still a vegetarian now and dabbles in veganism, although its become less about not eating certain meats in the milk of their mother and more about her global impact / carbon footprint

—  nurses little animals to health in her garden. has a hedgehog name OJ short for orange juice not the other one filthy pig. her and her dad have always been huge animal rights activists and existed on a vegetarian diet. the only one in their house who isn’t vegetarian is their cat, auggie. (short 4 augustus gloop)

—  has a lot of stupid ass stick and poke tattoos. there was a phase during her years as a barmaid where she wanted to train as a tattoo artist n would mostly practice on herself or any friends who would let her

—  she doesn’t form many long lasting friendships cos she tends to be super excited when she makes a new friend and just see them all the time but then it wears off and she can ghost a bit. she’ll always coming pinging back but she’s not the most predictable or loyal friend, sometimes she’ll sleep in your house every night for a week and then you won’t even get a text from her for a month. her best friends are elderly neighbours and houseless people she meets when volunteering at the foodbank. she thinks they’re more authentic than most of the ‘fake posers’ she meets down the vela pier

—  calls herself a butch lesbian but still has sex with men when she wants validation. sexually attracted to some men, especially effeminate men, but only romantically attracted to women. very possessive of the gals in her life.

—  stopped giving a shit about getting older or adhering to anyone elses bullshit standards, realised it was all fake p much as soon as she dropped out of school and one by one her friends just stopped texting her

—  lives in one of the lofts in port apartments. it’s open plan with rugs and lava lamps everywhere. she has a palette bed. its all very ‘sustainable chic’. like, oh wow, a pallet bed that im supposed to think you made from scratch but i KNOW you got it  off ebay because you thought it looked trendy

—  constantly says shes poor but still buys clothes from urban outfitters. sus.

—  frequently found at fannies flirting with the cute bisexual bartender with a choppy black bob.

general vibe / personality

vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers bewteen apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, flighty, unreliable, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo

likes: 70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms,, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, pet rats, kate moss, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars.

dislikes: girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you,  indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.

aesthetics

orange peel, the smell of bleach, skeleton drawings in the margins of a journal, thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your dad wouldn’t take you,  a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.

hoo boy this is getting LONG AS FUCK but here are my wanted plots

wanted plots

ok margo’s been in irving since she was like 10. she’s quite a vivacious person?? she dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she stands out. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so cool and brave of her. but anyway where was i going.. she grew up in the abernathy creek so stuck out like a sore thumb,,,, maybe ppl who were super interested in the creek or maybe poked fun at her bcos of it idk.....

b4 she dropped out, margo used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos her dad would buy them booze and rarely ask for the money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.

frinds !! unlikely friends !! toxic friends !! some1 she feels like she knew before irving ???

since margo literally can’t differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships. fwbs. enemies with benefits. all the angst. all the slow burn mutual pining we hate each other narratives

locals who play sports. margo wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !

she works part time at scuba. i want a mate that just goes and sits in there talking to her until her manager gets angry.

she's also a surf instructor and occasionally works as a lifeguard!! gal has like 7 jobs ik but regular swimmers hmu

ppl she coaches at the gym !! she wants to be a personal trainer

i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu

someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine. 

TLDR:  angry sports gay, former high school track prodigy turned drop out, who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick.

this was so long !!! im sorry !! if you’ve read this far have a biscuit, love x

[bluesockets]

HUGO WEIDERMANN ( HE/HIM ) is a CIS MALE, THIRTY-SEVEN year old THERAPIST & PSYCHIATRIST who has been living in Moorbrooke for TWO YEARS. They were born on MARCH 5 and right now, they are currently residing in REDGRAVE GROVE. It has been said that they look suspiciously like MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER and if they had to choose a song to describe themselves, they would choose HEAVY BALLOON by FIONA APPLE. ( ox, 21+, cst, he/him )

❮ it grows relentless like the teeth of a rat it's just got to keep on gnawing at me !! ❯ TW : ILLNESS, DRINKING MENT. !

full name : hugo weidermann. nicknames : he actually hates most derivatives of his name. calling him ‘huey’ is a one way ticket to getting your number blocked. pronouns : he/him. age : thirty-seven. date of birth : march 5, 1984. zodiac : pisces. gender : cis male. sexuality : gay. hometown : munich, germany. current residence : redgrave grove. languages spoken : german + english.

BIO !

—— hugo was born into a moderately wealthy family right in the middle of munich, germany. his parents pushed a lot of their #grindset on him and his baby sister. unfortunately for him, this meant a future of perfectionism and unrelenting gifted kid syndrome. he sacrificed a lot of his social needs for grades early in his life and after a while, it all became second nature. once in a blue moon he’d talk to his peers in scouting but he’d stutter, stumble over his words, and never quite found the right things to say. figuring himself a lost cause, he studied. he helped his mom with the garden. maybe occasionally played half life or duke nukem on the family computer. all of this dedication to perfection made him a shoe-in for harvard university, all the way over in the united states. his parents, father especially, encouraged the idea. that was all he needed to get himself on a plane to massachusetts. he was just glad his family could afford frequent flights back home, in case everything went to shit. —— when he first landed, hugo thought he’d only be in the states for school, but he ended up liking it a lot more than he thought he would. after finishing school and taking up a residency in downtown boston, he moved to new york. he made a good amount of money, was able to keep in touch with the few friends he met in college, and even secured a few long term relationships along the way. he hit his thirties and finally felt that he reached a point of contentment. this ... didn’t last long. —— right before he was able to buy his first house in the city he fell ill and, after seeing more doctors than he could count on both hands and feet, was diagnosed with lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. this wasn’t something he thought he was going to be able to handle by himself, so his sister came down from her home in germany to assist him with his daily needs. the two of them definitely couldn’t afford new york and medical bills on hugo’s salary alone, which led them to pack their bags and head to ( what his sister considered ) the next best option. moorbrooke, maine !! he wasn’t too stoked about this. he’d be leaving most of his support system behind and he knew absolutely nothing about the area, but his sister found a job there and it was a good place for him to start a private practice of his own. he’s still struggling over the loss of independence and the complete change from where he was in life before, but he’s coping ! after spending a lot of time inside and away from the people of moorbroke, he finally thinks he might be ready to actually make a life here. even if he wasn’t, his sister isn’t gonna move the two of them any time soon.

TIDBITS !

he’s a very nice dude and will totally engage with people, he just cannot bring himself to let his walls down. you really gotta know hugo well if you wanna have a conversation about anything serious without him deflecting the whole damn time.

his accent .... god rest his soul. he’s been living here for 20 years and sometimes people still need to take a second to understand him. especially when he drinks. two beers in and the man needs a translator.

speaking of drinking, he doesn’t do it often, and he can’t hold his liquor. i’d actually advise people to never give him alcohol. like, ever.

was on the rowing team in college. please don’t ask him about it. he’ll talk about it forever.

if it weren’t for his dog and his bees he’d be at rock bottom. outside of writing ( which i will get to in a jiffy ), beekeeping is his favorite hobby. ask him nicely and he might give you a jar of honey.

before coming down with lupus and RA he wrote two very boring books for psychiatrists and psychiatrists only. now that his focus has shifted away from his career a little bit, he’s in the middle of writing a poetry collection.

you will find this man at every bookstore in a 10 mile radius. he can’t be in the sun for too long so instead he likes to look at stuff he promises himself he won’t buy and then buys it anyway.

CONNECTIONS !

clients

he’s got fifteen clients on his caseload just to keep himself from losing his mind. he specializes in family, grief, trauma, and stress but doesn’t limit himself too much because of how small the town is. what i’m saying is : let hugo prescribe your characters drugs.

fellow beekeepers

he’s kept to himself a lot during his time in moorbrooke but his sister used to force him out at least some of the time. she drives him to beekeepers association events and conventions often enough, i would imagine it’d be a lot easier for him to talk to someone who shares the same niche hobby !! if your muse doesn’t keep bees, i’m always down for him to talk to some of the people who buy his honey at farmer’s markets.

former close friends

hugo met a lot of people ( particularly on harvard’s rowing team ) in college and during his stint in new york. i’m sure it’d be great for him to meet someone he knew up here because he’s honestly so tired of having to get used to new situations by himself.

flirtationship but hugo is oblivious the entire time

this guy is definitely the type to flirt with people on accident. i think it’d be really fuckin funny if he was flirting back and forth w someone he wasn’t consciously flirting with in the first place.

😏

listen the only thing i love playing out more slow burn self improvement and found family is romance. he’s been single since he was in new york and i think he deserves a little smooch. please dm me if your muse is also deserving of a little smooch.

etc, etc, etc !

there’s definitely more i want. i want everything you have to give me. however, if you’re in need of specifics, i would love to see : his doctors, people he can become friends with + let his walls down around, people he can teach german to, other authors, beta readers, and neighbors !

what am i missing. ah, yes.

pinterest / spotify [coming soon!]

[lochrannn]

AU-gust: Ya like Jazz?

Read on AO3

No warnings

prompt no 7: Beekeeper

Characters: Lila Pitts, Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

-

So, dad’s dead and now they have his estate to deal with.

The stupid townhouse that the old man had cobbled together from two separate houses, making it into some kind of monstrosity of cavernous halls and oddly shaped rooms, and then filled it to the brim with artefacts, antiques, taxidermied animals, and seven children he didn’t love, stolen from all corners of the world, was bad enough. But this… thing in the middle of absolutely nowhere really puts the cherry on top of the turd sandwich… or whatever the expression is, Klaus is finding it hard to concentrate on his own thoughts while he’s looking at the creepiest wood cabin he has ever seen in real life.

He shouldn’t even be here. He’d only come along to the reading of the will as he was hoping to get some cash that his father would have left for him, purely for appearance’s sake, but then his slightly estranged siblings (they have met for family weddings and funerals, and occasionally run into each other more or less intentionally over the years) promised him a real share if he helped them deal with things.

He should have stuck to Allison, but she is freshly divorced and in a surprisingly bad mood about it, so Klaus decided on Diego instead. But that has landed him outside the cabin, none of them knew existed, after a slightly tense two hour drive with his grumpiest brother.

The drive was tense because the last time Klaus had stayed with Diego when he was between living arrangements, he may have liberated from his brother a - what turned out to be - quite expensive watch.

Diego really does like to hold a grudge. Klaus thinks that’s rather pedestrian of him.

But as nothing can be proven, Klaus decides to repay Diego for the watch by giving some assistance with the cabin and not even complaining about it. Well maybe a little.

“What was the old coot even doing with this?” he asks incredulously.

“Dunno… let’s go and find out,” Diego says and then goes up to the door and breaks the lock with his Swiss army knife, like a glorified boy scout.

What they find inside is more of what they found inside the house in the city. A place filled to the brim with stuff. And to Klaus’s utter annoyance, it is very hard to distinguish the valuables from the junk.

They start halfheartedly looking through things, not even bothering to tidy much, just deciding that they’ll probably have to take anything that’s worth keeping and then hire a company to do the rest.

Klaus opens a heavy looking wooden chest and then springs back with a yelp.

“What?” Diego calls from the other room.

“Bees!” Klaus shouts in a high pitched voice and then edges back a little more, glad he dropped the lid back down in his panic, but still able to see the huge writhing mass of a hive before his mind’s eye.

“What the shit? Nah man! I don’t fuck with bees!” Diego has made it no closer to Klaus than to the door between the rooms and he’s apparently decided that’s as far as he needs to go.

“What do we do?” Klaus’s usually stoic brother asks him with a deep frown and a lot more worry in his voice than Klaus has heard in a long while.

“I don’t know,” Klaus answers, making his way over to find shelter in the other room, not particularly interested in getting stung either.

Then he has a thought, “But if the internet is to be believed, there are bouji white women all over the place who love nothing more than to scrape some bees out of any old crack or crevice, I’m sure we can find one who’ll help us with our little issue.”

He pulls out his phone and starts searching. Not quite sure what to type into google, he just tries the dumbest version of what he’s looking for. That usually works.

“Aha!” he exclaims, and Diego comes to look over his shoulder. Klaus reads out loud, “It says ‘The Bee Handler - we handle any bee trouble you might have’ sounds like exactly the thing we’re looking for. And this woman might be a bit older than I expected, but she’s excessively blonde and very bouji looking, don’t you think?”

“Call her!” Diego grumbles.

The bee handler lady says she has no appointments free for a removal for the next four weeks, but when Klaus explains that they have come all the way out to the cabin and weren’t planning on coming back, but need to be able to look through the rest of the bee infested room, and when he then also explains that they are willing to compensate her handsomely for her troubles, the woman promises to send her daughter along, who is apparently involved in the family business.

-

Klaus and Diego decide to edge their way along the wall of the room full of danger, just to get out of the cabin and wait for the bee handler’s daughter out on the porch.

When a huge, fuck off truck pulls up the dirt road about an hour and a half later and a woman climbs out the driver’s side, she turns out to be nothing like what Klaus had expected.

Klaus had imagined a tall, elegant, blonde woman, wearing a pastel coloured chiffon blouse, maybe a wide brimmed hat. Instead he finds that they’ll apparently be rescued from their bees by a tiny, very angry looking goth.

She clambers up onto the flat back of her truck, not having acknowledged Klaus and Diego yet, pulls a huge case down, and then stomps her way over to them, once shiny red boots getting duller with each step she takes along the dusty path.

“The directions you left for me were absolute dogshit, which one of you numpties do I have to thank for that?” Her accent sounds a lot more like their father’s than the woman Klaus talked to on the phone.

“That would be me,” Klaus answers, having no trouble keeping his tone excessively pleasant. He’s quite certain she just called him an ition, but if he got offended every time someone called him an idiot, he’d end up being constantly angry like his brother. The brother who’s gone oddly quiet.

Klaus turns around to Diego, as the woman stomps up the wooden stairs, and finds a very peculiar look on his face.

“Right, I’m Lila, I’ll be handling your bees today… yada yada, my mother insists I give you the spiel… for the branding. So, where are the little creepers?” the woman, Lila, drawls with a slightly blank expression, but her kohl rimmed eyes glow a bit brighter when she starts talking about the bees.

“Just this way,” Klaus swings his arm towards the door dramatically to indicate the way. “After y…” he trails off when Lila breezes past him entirely ignoring him.

He’s just about to follow her in, when Diego pushes past him, also saying nothing and with a slightly dumb, almost dreamy expression on his face.

Oh fuck, Klaus thinks. He’s forgotten about his brother’s thing for intimidating, angry women. This should be interesting.

-

Klaus can admit that at times Diego can be remarkably smooth. At other times he is a huge dumbass. These versions of him occur seemingly at random and apparently today Diego is incapable of pulling off smooth.

The two brothers spend most of the time that Lila takes dealing with the hive, back in the other room, watching from the doorway as she… does whatever it is she has to do… and Diego has made multiple attempts at small talk, but Lila keeps shooting him down with bored one word answers. Klaus likes her on principle for making his brother look like a fool.

Once she’s more or less done, she closes the lid of the chest and instructs the two of them to carry it outside so that the remaining bees that she couldn’t secure in her crate can fly out, once outside, and hopefully follow her along to her destination.

Klaus really doesn’t want to do any heavy lifting, and even Diego next to him seems reluctant to get too close to the bee infested chest, but it’s not like they have much of an alternative so they seemingly silently agree to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Klaus takes the front end, assuming his brother, who has much more in the way of brawn to offer, will have an easier time of keeping his end up when they make their way down the front steps.

They manage quite well, with hardly any cursing from Diego, and Lila follows them outside.

And then, to his genuine surprise, when they get to the dusty path in front of the porch, Klaus catches Lila staring at Diego where he’s gently putting down his end of the chest - Klaus just let his drop unceremoniously - and she’s thoroughly checking his brother out.

Good lord, Klaus thinks, Diego is lucky that he’s hot.

But somehow, nothing else happens. It seems, Diego’s given up on his pathetic attempts at flirting, and while Diego scribbles down his credit card information, Lila just looks at him with a slight scowl, as if he’s taking too long for her liking.

She gets in her truck and Diego ambles back towards the cabin, “C’mon Klaus, I want to be done here before it gets dark!” he calls.

“Right with you in a sec!” Klaus sing-songs back and thinks he hears a grumbled ‘whatever’ as Diego disappears back into the cabin.

Klaus makes his way over to the open car window where Lila seems to be sorting through some paperwork.

“What now?” her question dripping with irritation.

“Do you ever make it into the city?” Klaus asks, as casually as he can manage, which is very.

“How’s that any of your business?” Lila shoots back, giving him a very sceptical frown.

“Humor me for a second,” Klaus gives her his brightest, most disarming smile.

And apparently it works, because she shrugs and says “on occasion…”

“Then you should let me give you my brother's number!”

“Why?” Actual bafflement has made it into Lila’s voice, she doesn’t even sound quite so angry anymore.

“So you can call him up when you’re in the city, silly! Go on a date, have wild, sweaty sex, or whatever you kids want to do!” and when her mouth literally drops open in shock, Klaus goes on, “Oh please, are you telling me you didn’t notice him mooning over you?”

“He was?” she asks in a voice that’s significantly more quiet and softer than any other she’s used on them all afternoon. And Klaus can’t be sure with the dark brown of her skin, but he’s getting the impression that she’s blushing.

“Oh my god! You two idiots are made for each other. Give me your phone!” Klaus rolls his eyes at her.

Lila pulls out her phone and hands it over.

[wordofrecall]

character playlists: ori

so. let’s do this. my playlists are long and scattered, but they make me happy, so i might as well share them and the thoughts behind song choices. so. here’s some songs for runaway knights & wannabe witches, and what have you.

something holy - childhood & riches & wonders

pearl diver - mitski - oh hunter, if you didn’t want the beautiful so badly, perhaps you would’ve found it in your spirit singing softly - look. it's on the nose, considering that her title is "the pearl hunter," but also, like, that rules. this is a song for wren, i think; ori in the present reflecting on her mother and the similarities between them.

icicles - the scary jokes - i can only be forgiven if i’m giving myself up to you on a silver serving tray / must i bare myself to the stabbing of your knife & gnashing teeth while our lovely company appears so entertained? - aaand a song for childhood. 99% of ori's socialization came from her parents having important guests over, so. uh. yeah. show off your reclusive child prodigy like a pageant whenever you have the opportunity. she probably won't grow to loathe you.

life: the cruel interlude (on god) - kilo kish - why do i dare believe in me when i bleed? - questioning was. always a big thing for ori. i don't think she ever believed that the mirzha was god, and i known that she never truster her father's patron, but. in her studies, in her passions, there's always this tiny sense of desperation for something to have faith in something. not herself.

bluejays & cardinals - the mountain goats - the stars come out of hiding for you, & i would too - there is. a lot, in ori's relationship with her brother. she was the favorite child, yeah, the one destined for great things in spite of her... troubles. but he never had those troubles! she didn't, doesn't understand how he went through life so unafraid. there's envy there. i also think that the line i quoted is terribly true, like, canonically. because. she sure did do that stupid shit.

be calm - fun. - take it from me, i’ve been there a thousand times--you hate your pulse because it thinks you’re still alive! - sometimes you have intense social phobia. and that's okay!

country death song - violent femmes - kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves, kiss your mother goodnight & remember that God saves - i think andrei is a much less pitiable or even sympathetic man than the narrator of this song, but. like. it's a country song about a father killing his daughter while preaching godliness. i had to.

i’m all bloody inside - liam lynch - inside me, well, it’s dark & gross as hell, i’m not a pretty sight - the family business!

the hazards of love 3 (revenge!) - the decemberists - but father, don’t you fear, your children are all here - fantasies. part of the fantasy is imagining a world where she doesn't feel terrible about the thought.

shankill butchers - sarah jarosz - they used to be just like me & you, they used to be sweet little boys - "blood hunters are ghost stories." "and also, they're fucking terrible. violent, cruel, zealous. the worst."

sparrow - st. vincent - & no eyes are on the sparrow, eyes are on the sparrow, how could that be the case? the lark keeps whistling his number, silly little number, as if he isn't prey - pity for the boy. sort of retrospective, but it's a thought that's been there since she was a child.

something burning - rituals & fire & running

starchild - ghost quartet - but i will transcend & vomit this loser out of me; i will become the next big thing, i will light myself on fire - maybe she is some kind of angel? bursting with radiance and terrifying to look upon.

arsonist’s lullabye - hozier - don’t you ever tame your demons, always keep them on a leash / when i was sixteen, my senses fooled me - oooor maybe she is a sixteen year-old who is having a panic attack and setting everything in sight on fire by accident.

blood - my chemical romance - i’m the kind of human wreckage that you love! - so she's broken.

girl anachronism - the dresden dolls - it’s not the way i’m meant to be, it’s just the way the operation made me - so she's failed and she's broken and she's sick, and there's no time to fucking think.

when the chips are down - anais mitchell - cast your eyes to heaven, you’ll get a knife in the back. - so she does what her mother did before her, and she runs from that which she has always known.

body terror song - ajj - i’m so sorry that you have to have a body / one that will hurt you, & be the subject of so much of your fear - feelings on being built Wrong; feelings on your mind's undue control upon your body.

in corolla - the mountain goats - & no one was gonna come & get me, there wasn't anybody gonna know, even though i leave a trail of burnt things in my wake every single place i go - very good as an ori song in general but this is her justification to herself in the water. under the docks, she says this to herself.

the harrowed & the haunted - the decemberists - will i be so brave? - just to get that oceanic vibe up.

luna - the mountain goats - rise through the flames & end again in flames at last - an inexplicable feeling.

unwhere - reeder - a song for leaving what you've always known.

something lonely - years & woods & dreaming

runs in the family - amanda palmer - run from their pity, from responsibility, run from the country & run from the city, i can run from the law, i can run from myself, i can run for my life, i can run into debt, i can run from it all, i can run 'till I'm gone - she is broken and all she can think to do is get as far away as possible

panic attack - liza anne - i hate that i can be seen like this

black eyes - david wirsig - my hammering heart hears the voices of spirits that tempt us, the scorn that they’ve spoken

for the departed - shayfer james - they will bury me alive, but i’m not inclined to care; i am too far gone now

hurt - johnny cash - everyone i know goes away in the end; you can have it all, my empire of dirt

my body’s made of crushed little stars - mitski - i work better under a deadline! i work better under a deadline!

blood in the cut - k. flay - guess i’m contagious; it’d be safest if you ran--fuck, that’s what they all just end up doing in the end

little pistol - mother mother - i think i might be scared of the world & the way it makes you feel afraid & how it gets in the way

villains pt. 1 - emma blackery - built to create, designed to destroy

the beer - kimya dawson - & the christians gave me comic books as if i would be scared of burning in hell while i was already there [...] i tried to scream fuck you but blood was pouring out my mouth

something safe - family & finding it & fighting together

haunted house - sir babygirl - i’m running just to hide & i’m hiding just to breathe & around every corner is the same night on repeat

your heart is a muscle the size of your fist - ramshackle glory - i love you & you make me glad to be alive; i promise that i’m gonna pay you back / you always know how funny everything is, even when i’m so serious that it’s gonna be the death of me

medicines - the taxpayers - o, but our rotting corpses lying there soon began to leak & grow these lesions that all smelled just like a rose / & all the blood & guts inside us germinated into timeless pages stained with lines of lovely prose

autoclave - the mountain goats - i am this great unstable mass of blood & foam

alligator skin boots - mccafferty - i’m cool to the touch, leap to my death, i’ll die for you all, i’ll die for my friends, it goes like this

100 years - florence + the machine - lord, don’t let me break this, let me hold it lightly, give me arms to pray with instead of ones that hold too tightly

tomorrow will be kinder - the secret sisters - but i feel warmth on my skin, the stars have all aligned

armour - rae spoon - you know i placed was to build a life for you

amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats - play with matches if you think you need to play with matches; seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot & bright / find where the heat’s unbearable & stay there if you have to--don’t hurt anybody on your way up to the light, and stay alive

curses - the crane wives - won’t you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down?

something daring - islands & visions & loss

jane’s dream - janelle monáe

beekeeper - keaton henson - hear me, o woman that has gone astray, gone astray

fire - kimya dawson - i’m reading books about how they’re corrupt [...] as long as i’m burning, i’ll keep on yearning to save the world, not sure how, but i’m learning

cosmic hero - car seat headrest - i love you, but i can’t stand the touch, & of course i’m alright with death

turn the lights off - tally hall - everbody likes to get taken for turns to see how bright the fire inside of us burns [...] should be stronger, books abandoned

eat you alive - the oh hellos - child, i’m afraid for your soul; these things that you’re after, they can’t be controlled

cry for judas - the mountain goats - hallucinate a shady grove where judas went to die

o death - monica martin - no wealth, no land, no silver, no gold, nothing satisfies me but your soul

blood of angels - brown bird - and i would wage my soul to bet that there ain’t no one throwing lightning anyhow

the universe is going to catch you - the antlers - the arms of the universe kept you from falling [...] those arms did not come back

a burning hill - mitski - i am the fire & i am the forest & i am the witness watching it / i stand in the valley watching it

something terrifying - conversations & selfhood & divination

the lamb - dessa - but blood is blood, & what’s done is done; blood is blood, & its burden is a beast

going invisible 2 - the mountain goats - i’m gonna burn it all down today & sweep all the ashes away

the lion’s roar - first aid kit - she plays a tune for those who wish to overlook the fact that they’ve been blindly deceived by those who preach & pray & teach, but she falls short & the night explodes in laughter

the villain i appear to be - connor spiotto - even if you can’t see the good inside me, i don’t have the time to tell you why i do the things that i do, just please hold on & soon you’ll seem

up the wolves - the mountain goats - there’s bound to be a ghost at the back of closet, no matter where you live; there’ll be a few things, maybe several things that you’re gonna find really difficult to forgive

thursday girl - mitski - glory, glory, glory to the night that shows me what i am

at the bottom of everything - bright eyes - we must take all of the medicines to expensive now to sel; set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell

everybody does - julien baker - i know i’m a pile of filthy wreckage you will wish you’d never touched, but you’re gonna run when you find out who i am

tongues & teeth - the crane wives - i know that you mean so well, but i am not a vessel for your good intent 

a pearl - mitski - you’re growing tired of me and all the things i don’t talk about / sorry, i don’t want your touch--it’s not that i don’t want you

[cricketnationrise]

Reading Roundup: June 2021

previous reading roundups

like 80% of these are from my local library | averaged 1 book per day

The Ladies Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite: book 1 in a series. romance. sex on the page. wlw lady scientists! historical! astronomers pretending to be men in order to be published!

Prime Deceptions by Valerie Valdes: book 2 in the Chilling Effect series. should definitely read them in order. rag tag cargo ship crew gets more and more embroiled in an intergalactic conspiracy

Milk!: A 10,000-Year Food Fracas by Mark Kurlansky: non-fiction, the history of milk and its by-products. examines how cultural norms around drinking milk has shifted as well as how gender roles in a dairy have shifted. contains delightful sketches of milk-producing animals and funny chapter titles.

One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston: wow wow wow wow wow wow i love this book so much. i didn’t know i wanted stuck-in-a-time-loop-wlw-riding-the-subway romance but that is for sure what i got. features a scene that directly makes fun of Bella Swan googling information about vampires. so that’s fun.

The Care and Feeding of Waspish Widows by Olivia Waite: book 2 in a series. romance. sex on the page. older women protagonists, a beekeeper and a woman who runs a printing press. interesting historical backdrop. don’t need to have read them in order.

Radio Silence by Alice Oseman: alternating pov YA novel. what happens when you get contacted to do art by your favorite niche podcast and it turns out to be made by the person who lives across the street from you? chaos. chaos happens.

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles: towles’ debut novel. set in NYC from Dec 31, 1937 - Jan 1, 1939. rich people problems as experienced by a person who is not rich. 4 parts, each labeled with a season.

Hitman Anders and the Meaning of It All by Jonas Jonasson: a hitman, a motel receptionist, and a priest come up with increasingly convoluted ways to make money. they accidentally start a religion. humor.

People I Want to Punch in the Throat: True(ish) Tales of an Overachieving Underachiever by Jen Mann: non-fiction/memoir, taken from and expanded blog posts, follows Jen Mann through meeting her husband and having kids and having to deal with living in the suburbs and all that that entails

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld: reread. book 1 in the Leviathan trilogy. alternate universe WW1. the son of archduke ferdinand of austria is spirited away the night his parents are assassinated in order to protect him. deryn is a girl disguising herself as a boy in order to join the british air force. their paths cross. alternating pov. very cool worldbuilding that is vaguely steampunk-ish.

Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language by Gretchen McCulloch: non-fiction. a look at how the internet has changed language/writing. fascinating read.

Song for a Viking by KJ Charles: short story set in the Think of England series. follow up to Think of England. sex on the page.

Think of England by KJ Charles: historical m/m mystery romance. sex on the page. stuck in a manor house mystery. warnings for blackmail, kidnapping, murder, being left in a cave, violence, period typical anti-semitism/racism/homophobia

Behemoth by Scott Westerfeld: reread. book 2 in the Leviathan trilogy. must read in order.

It’s In His Kiss by Julia Quinn: book 7 in the bridgerton series. historical romance. sex on the page. don’t need to read in order, but it helps.

On the Way to the Wedding by Julia Quinn: book 8 in the bridgerton series. historical romance. sex on the page. don’t need to read in order, but it helps.

Proper English by KJ Charles: historical f/f mystery romance. prequel to Think of England. sex on the page. stuck in a manor house mystery. warnings for murder, violence, period-typical racism/homophobia

Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas: literally read it one sitting. YA m/m romance. trans male protagonist. accidental ghost summoning, dia de los muertos. warnings for youths with shitty home lives, homophobia, transphobia, kidnapping, violence against children/teens, blood

Because of Miss Bridgerton by Julia Quinn: book 1 in the Rokesby series, a prequel series to the Bridgertons. historical romance (revolutionary war era england). sex on the page. frenemies to lovers.

Sabriel by Garth Nix: book 1 in the Old Kingdom series. fantasy. when her father, the Abhorsen, who’s job it is to make sure the dead stay dead, goes missing in the land of the dead, its up to Sabriel to figure out what happened and how to save the Old Kingdom where magic is alive and kicking.

The Bridgertons: Happily Ever After by Julia Quinn: collected short stories. a second epilogue for each main book in the bridgerton series. also contains violet (the mom’s) story

The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms by NK Jemisin: book 1 in the Inheritance trilogy, fantasy, with her grandfather stepping down as emperor, he names 3 heirs who must duke it out to the death. the gods are watching and in some cases, meddling.

How to Find a Princess by Alyssa Cole: book 2 in the Runaway Royals series. do not need to read in order. f/f romance. sex on the page. sort of an Anastasia retelling.

To Seek and to Find by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 1 in a trilogy.

Hands of My Father: A Hearing Boy, His Deaf Parents, and the Language of Love by Myron Uhlberg: non-fiction. growing up in the depression in NYC as a hearing boy with 2 Deaf parents and an epileptic younger brother. includes how his parents met and fell in love.

Nevertheless, She Persisted: Flash Fiction Project: tor.com published short stories by a variety of authors including Seanan McGuire and Charlie Jane Anders. All start with/feature the phrase: “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.”

To Have and to Hold by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 2.

To Love and to Cherish by Tamryn Eradani: ...look its just straight up erotica okay? BDSM. safe/sane/consensual. m/m. book 3.

Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan: YA f/f romance. private school. warnings for racism, homophobia, toxic relationship, alcohol use, teen on teen violence (one girl gives another a severe allergic reaction).

Highfire by Eoin Colfer: the last dragon in the world just wants to be left alone in the swamp where he is hiding to watch TV. Squib just wants the police officer to stop hitting on his mom and make some money. the crooked police officer wants to take over the local mob boss’ operations. their lives intersect. warnings for: kidnapping, violence against women/children, murder, blood, removal of toes, dismemberment

[hyperfixateandchill]

aaand because I can’t stop thinking about it i’ve written down my ranking of post-finale deancas scenarios including a non-exhaustive list of pros and cons for each. read on at your own discretion.

1st place: Deancas open up the new Roadhouse. My personal favorite because, again, Dean’s canon dream. I think Dean would LOVE running his own bar and playing host and serving people food and drinks is basically his love language. Cas isn’t as into the bar vibe specifically but he enjoys seeing people come and go and getting to know the locals who come by and just being with Dean. They get to stay connected to the hunting world without being actual hunters which is probably the perfect win win situation for them.

Other Pros of the Bar scenario (i’ve thought about this a lot): Claire and Kaia come by increasingly often to visit until eventually Claire basically works part-time at the Roadhouse when she’s not off hunting and Dean starts only semi-ironically calling it the “family business.” Claire puts up pride flag stickers on the front door and Dean makes a thing of it at first but then warms up to the idea. People start catching on and now local queer people will come from several towns over to visit the bar because there aren’t exactly that many queer friendly spaces in their corner of Kansas. Then it’s pride month and Claire and Kaia secretly update the bar’s online info to explicitly draw in queer customers and on the evening of the nearest pride march the bar is PACKED with all the local gays and Cas has the pop music blaring and he will NOT let Dean change it but it’s ok because Dean’s made friends with a drag queen who’s a professional comedian and now they’re comparing calendars to see when she might be able to come do a set at the Roadhouse and basically their bar is now a gay bar. “LGBT friendly”, Dean insists, because 1. he’s not gay and 2. he still caters to the local straights and the hunters. but now hunters come in and end up sitting 2 stools away from a flamboyant!gay and some are slightly weirded out but most don’t care at all and all of them end up making some kind of comment about how they’d heard about Dean Winchester and his angel... guess it’s true huh? And Dean shoots them a cocky grin and says ‘yep’ but he still holds to the rule that pop music is only allowed on tuesdays and thursdays and maybe very late at night on the weekends when everybody’s drunk and dancing. The Roadhouse is a second home to Dean and it’s the perfect mix of middle american dive, hunter’s hangout and lgbt space, and that’s literally DEAN so it’s perfect and he gets to work with his family by his side and be a part of a community (or several) and he feels useful and happy.

Cons of the Bar scenario: Doesn’t work great with having a small child or hobbies. very long hours and unusual work schedule. would encourage Dean’s drinking habit. I.e. it might be more intense than some alternatives (unless the bar is more cafe/diner during the day and Claire/Kaia/whatever other youngins can mind the place on their own if deancas aren’t in and the bar is located quite close to their house to they can come and go).

Overall works pretty well for a more active/energetic take on deancas’s lives post-finale. 8/10

2nd place: Mix of mechanic!Dean and retired!deancas. Dean’s never had a proper job before or much of a social circle who aren’t hunters, so I find it hard to imagine Dean working at an autoshop and playing mr. normie with his coworkers. Same with Cas and a regular job.

What I can imagine, however, is Dean having his own small business where he fixes up old cars (for like, vintage car enthusiasts). It starts as a hobby but then he realizes people would pay him to do it so now it’s a business. Deancas obviously have a a house on a big plot of land near the woods and a lakeside, so there’s plenty of outdoor space for him to set up a small shop and most of his customers call ahead so he doesn’t have people just coming in anyway. The work is not quite enough to pay all the bills but again, Charlie’s magic credit card, so who cares. Cas gardens and beekeeps and occasionally sells the extras at the local farmer’s market. Dean cooks and fishes and uses Cas’s ingredients whenever possible. They spend their days on their own property, doing their hobbies on their own time and making enough money from them that they don’t feel useless and still have plenty of time left to get over-involved in Jack’s pta. It’s a very calm, contented life. the millennial hipster dream, fulfilled by two 40-some year old dads.

Pros: deancas getting to spend their days doing what they love, being ridiculously domestic and married (even if they’re not officially married), both being absolute malewives in their own ways and it’s disgustingly sweet.

Cons: this scenario doesn’t have quite as much excitement and opportunity for shenanigans as the bar scenario. Less connection to a community, more living like hermits. Dean might appreciate the more social atmosphere of a bar. Cas might be equally happy either way, but he’d probably like having Claire help them out at the bar so that’s a plus for him.

Overall a good scenario for a more placid semi-retired life. 7/10

3rd place: a bait and switch. Cas is the one who ends up still having something you could call a ‘job’, Dean is the househusband. It starts with deancas still helping saileen with HOL (hunters of letters) stuff but eventually Dean is very decided that he wants out now that things are in good hands. Cas agrees with him but still consults with the hol network since he’s got all that lore knowledge. Dean very occasionally helps with research/strategy for a hunt but that’s IT no more hunting for him, and so it ends up that Cas still comes by the bunker fairly often and works from home the rest of the time on research and translations etc and Dean’s 100% amateur chef-in-training and papa bear because now nobody can look down on him for being a housewife (or nobody he gives a shit about anyway) so he’s gone all in. and whenever he comes by the bunker these days is after he’s picked up Jack from school and he comes to join their family to cook them all dinner while they finish up the work.

Pros: love me a Dean who’s gotten over his hypermasculinity and is now comfortable with doing whatever he likes even if (sometimes specially if) that thing is considered stereotypically feminine. It’s his big fuck you to his dad and it’s the life mary had wanted when she was young and dean is mary and therefore he’s honoring her memory when he spends his days on a bright airy kitchen making lunch for his 4 year old and waiting for his ex-soldier husband he adores to come home and doing not one bit of hunting. except dean never had to lie about his past and cut ties with his hunter family to get this. which is why this time for him it works, when it didn’t for mary or sam. love that energy.

Cons: Dean is not in fact just a malewife and would probably still want some more action in his life. might feel kinda useless with Cas having a ‘thing’ to do when he doesn’t. Cas would be perfectly happy regardless though.

Overall heartwarming and sweet but not as realistic: 6/10

4th: Disheveled-magic-shop-owner!Cas (+ Sam and Dean). Just thought of this. Cas knows his shit about spell ingredients and magical objects and supernatural weapons, probably more than even Sam. And Cas gardens. And Cas most likely enjoys pinterest and mom blogs and finds out about etsy... So Cas may or may not start growing/hoarding specific goods he knows are useful in the hunting world. at first it’s just to help HOL out but eventually Dean realizes like... we could profit off of this? And Cas eye-rolls because he doesn’t care but then again he knows his shit so he sets up a poorly-designed website to sell hunting stuff. and maybe Sam goes in on it with him because Sam also knows his shit and it’s kind of cute because they work together and Dean probably does the mechanic/barkeep/househusband thing though he does help with making the special bullets and dropping off parcels at the post office and so on. And maybe eventually they open up a small magic shop where they sell their shit. And maybe the shop is next door to the Roadhouse and it’s all become ‘your one-stop shop for everything a hunter might need’ (and you know the gays like their new age shit too so it all works), and the bunker isn’t even far away either and all three business are interconnected, the ‘family business’ that AU John Winchester of Hunter Corp wished he’d created.

Pros: Cas gets to do a thing he’s knowledgeable and passionate about and Deancas get to leave hunting while staying adjacent to the community. Cas as a disheveled shopkeep who’s not particularly nice to customers but who provides them with insights and mysterious comments that make people certain he must be legit.

Cons: Cas using his knowledge of the supernatural to profit off of hunters sounds too capitalist and not very Cas-like. He would be the type to gladly give people stuff for free and methinks that Dean and Sam would feel that way too. Cas helping with HOL stuff is basically established in options 1-3 already and so is him gardening for potentially useful ingredients. He doesn’t need to sell this stuff in a shop.

Overall makes sense theoretically but doesn’t vibe well for me. 5/10

5th: full on retirees, doing basically the same things as no 2 except with maybe some more travelling and less caring about making money from any of it.

Pros: the “and they lived happily ever after” they deserve after all the shit they’ve been through.

Cons: boring. uneventful. Dean and Cas are still quite young and neither’s had a chance at something even resembling a normal life for more than a couple of months at a time. They should get more of a middle aged married life experience before moving on to full retirement.

Overall valid but less interesting: 4/10

6th: Cas gets a job at a local library or shop, Dean is either a mechanic or a househusband. To preface, if Cas were to get a job out there in the world, my favorite would be like a magic shop or a bookshop with *unique* books. But I find that unlikely unless Cas is running his own shop (see 4th place for that). So here we’re talking about a regular normie shop.

Pros: Cas has a job he likes and feels useful in? And he’s not completely tied down to Dean all the time (though not sure that counts as a pro). More of the ‘normal life’ vibes.

Cons: Cas working at a random bookstore or library or shop or whatever would be passably interesting but not as fulfilling or useful or fun as any of the other options.

Overall valid but not interesting or all that heartwarming. 2/10

6th: deancas don’t know any life outside of hunting so they keep on doing it, except now with lower stakes than before and they go on less actual hunts.

pros: umm... consistency? they keep working closely with saileen and the new hunters who start coming by/moving into the bunker.

cons: everything. Dean’s wanted out and he should get it. Cas literally died several times over and he should get to experience a human life with the man he loves and not just do more dangerous shit.

Overall a terrible idea. 1/10 (because 0/10 would be the Cas never comes back and Dean dies and goes to heaven scenario)

[pynkhues]

@mego42

replied to your post

“Tagged by the extremely lovely @gild-and-fire and @xenalovesoq!...”

did you like...literally poke a hornet's nest or something?

Okay, I do actually love telling this story (pls imagine me drunk at a party telling it, because that’s my favourite way to tell it), so I’m caving, haha.

This is extremely long, because it is a long story, so fair warning.

SO, I was living in a sharehouse with five of my friends. We were extremely young and terrible and had no idea what we were doing, and it was a bit of a party house (which is hilarious in hindsight, because I was already part-time guardian of my brother), but it was an extremely fun and a nurturing environment, and while I wouldn’t swap those three years of my life for anything in the world, I would also never go back to them, haha. 

One of the people I was living with was somebody who is still (somehow, after this) one of my dearest friends - let’s call him C. The thing to know about C is that he has a hero complex, and if there is anyone in a fifty mile radius who needs help, he will do absolutely everything in his power to help them. (He now works for the public guardian ensuring the rights of people in the state’s care and I am extremely proud of him, but at the time, he was working for an electronics store, so he had to get all of his helping people energy out with randoms).

Anyway, that’s how he accidentally became the person people would call to get rid of bee’s nests at their houses. This service (which he did for free) travelled around, and suddenly he was being called by construction sites and shopping centres to remove bees nests for them. C was a 22-year-old dummy with a big heart, and would just show up at these sites, throw the nests into a container, and drive away with a car swarming full of bees, and then me and my housemates would get him a beer, patch up his ridiculous amount of stings (because he had no suit or gloves or anything at that point) and try to convince him to go to hospital.

After about a year of this, C decided he was interested in maybe becoming a beekeeper? He felt like he knew bees pretty well at this point, and we were like whatever, because C was (and still is) prone to having little projects (as you can probably already tell). 

So C bought some equipment, and the next few nests he pulled out for people, he kept and brought back to our house.

And it’s fine, y’know? C does his thing with them out in the yard, and we don’t really think much of it, and then C moves out of our house so that he can move in with his girlfriend, and he leaves the bees at our house. 

So suddenly we’ve got three hives in our backyard that none of us know what to do with. 

Over the next six months, we keep trying to get C to take the bees to his new place, but his girlfriend doesn’t want them there (who can blame her?) and he keeps promising he’ll find a new home for them, but a few things happen in his life which makes it hard. We try to be super accommodating, but then some of the bees break away and start building a nest in the fan in the bathroom, so every time one of us had a shower, they’d get pissed and fly in to sting us. 

It was extremely stressful. 

So we’re calling more often, and C keeps promising, but never actually comes to take the bees. 

Cut to: 

Christmas Day 2003.

It’s Brisbane, so it is 10000000 degrees celsius. I was doing Christmas at three different houses that year, so got up at 4am to start cooking. It’s about 6am when I hear a man furiously swearing in my backyard. 

Understandably, I’m stressed.

I look out the window to see a wall of bees and there - in the middle of it - C. 

I throw open the side door, and C runs inside, body already swelling from stings, and I say, ‘what  the fuck’ and C says ‘merry christmas!’ because apparently this was my Christmas present this year.

I get C relatively together, and by this point one of our other friend’s is up and is alternating between hysterically laughing and yelling, and we manage to wrap C up in towels, and he runs back outside. He manages to get all three hives into his car, plus the new nest from the bathroom fan, throws them in his car, and drives away. 

So it’s done, y’know? 

I finish my cooking, grab all my gifts together, am teetering towards my car beneath the piles, only to stop as a tiny little bee flies down and lands on the side of my hand. 

Huh, I think. 

And then I hear the buzzing. 

I am in a BEE TORNADO! 

I drop literally everything I’m holding (five hours worth of cooking hahahaha, RIP) and bolt back into the house. The thuds of bees flying into the windows, lost without their hives, wake up one of my other friends. Now three of us are awake, staring at the swarming bees all around the house. 

The first of my friend’s calls her sister, who picks her up down the street. She wraps herself in blankets and ski boots (once again want to remind everyone it is absurdly hot) and runs through the bee storm to her sister’s car to go to their parents’ place for Christmas. 

I try to get to my car a similar way, but get stung three times while I’m barely out the door so instantly go back inside. 

Two of my other friends (who were dating each other at the time) escape by climbing the fence into our back neighbour’s yard and sneaking around the side of the house.

It’s just me and one other friend.

I call my mum to see if she can pick me up, but it’s 11am on Christmas day at this point and she’s already had too much to drink. I have not let anyone in my family live down their laughter over the phone at me when I told them what was happening, just like none of them have let me live down the fact that I was once held hostage by bees. 

Anyway, my other friend who was still at the house ends up dressing in his motorcross gear and motorbike helmet, and reparking my car down the street for me. I then try to run out only! To be grabbed by the neighbours! Who say “WHAT’S GOING ON WITH THE BEES?” 

They’re all having family Christmas’ in their backyards! And there are bees everywhere! 

I apologise profusely – while getting stung by bees – and tell them my friend will come over and fix it, then I get in my car and call C, who’s in hospital at that point for being stung so badly, and we just resign ourselves to the fact that we ruined multiple people’s Christmas’.

The bees did eventually leave. 

I will say though that the epilogue of this story is that a couple of years later I was driving down the highway and a bee flew into my car and stung me on the eye and I also had to go to hospital, and I absolutely blame C for that too. 

[sloppy-butcher]

BeeKeeper

A Claudette Moral Story

Notes: A story I’ve had drafted for like... ever. It’s just a lil something inspired by her lore introduced in the first tome. She is a soft lady, sad and burdened by her ability to empathise and this fic kinda explores that idea. There's a hint of Hillbilly angst, not a lot, but I’m building up to that

word count: 2082

TW: mentions of death and blood

All Claudette Moral could hear was screaming. All she could see was the muddy ground she lay on. And all she could taste was blood. Her own blood. But this wasn’t unusual for the girl. Claudette could not count the number of times she had been beaten to the floor with an ax or meat cleaver. Her flesh torn and ripped by vicious attacks. Her bones sore and broken at the hands of the beasts that hunted her and her friends. It happened so often, no matter how hard she tried to fight them and survive, she’d always end up on the ground. Bleeding to death.

It was the most strangely horrifying feeling, to have your life seemingly drain out of you. It was as if the very ground she lay on was responsible for her waning energy, lapping-up at her blood until there was nothing left but coldness and blackness. She was starting to get cold already. She could feel it in her fingertips, her hands covered in open wounds and dirt, having been tirelessly dragging herself towards a less open area. She didn’t want to be found so easily. If she could waste the beast’s time, she’d consider this a victory. So, she pushed forward, forcing her limbs to pull her limp body across the dead grass. It almost didn’t hurt anymore. Almost.

Eventually, Claudette had to stop. She was beginning to lose feeling in her legs, and she knew it wasn’t long before she’d succumb to the cold. She had managed to drag herself into the cornfield and under the cover of the towering plants, she finally let herself rest. Claudette wanted so badly to cry. In the beginning, she’d cry, all the time. In her first few trails when she had watched the others get slaughtered by maniacs, all she could do was freeze and weep from fear. She had been so useless then, unable to help in any way, even though she knew they needed her. All because she was scared. She was scared now, of course, she had never really stopped being scared. She just thought she was getting better at controlling her fear. Pushing and working through fear was a skill that took looking at the bloodthirsty eyes of a monster for Claudette to learn. It was ironic to her. If only she had learned that skill before she was taken away, maybe things would have been different.

Claudette was always scared. Or rather, she was always overwhelmed. She could feel things more than others. Kids in school would look at her funny and she could feel their eyes burning into her back as she tried to walk away. She could always feel them watching her. Even when she was forced to interact with others as part of a school project, she could feel that they spoke to her through gritted teeth. She could feel that they didn’t like her. So, it was just easier to not be around them. Claudette retreated into the world of things that did not have hidden agendas or motives. Plants were interesting, simple yet complex beings of growth and life. They were the subjects of chemical reactions and, if you knew their formula, you knew everything about them. And Claudette liked that. She liked not feeling overwhelmed.

It was getting very cold now. She had lost all feeling in her hands and feet. Her blood was pooling into the ground around her, stealing what little warmth she had left. Through the strained wheezing of her collapsing lungs, Claudette could hear the wind blowing through the cornfield.

‘It’s so quiet,’ she thought. She closed her eyes and listened. There was no more screaming, the others having been snuffed out long ago, and there was no monster. Only her and the corn. How strange, she wondered, that if she had not been bleeding out this would almost have been peaceful. The corn rustled under the gentle breeze and Claudette couldn’t help but try to breathe in tune with them. Nothing in this nightmarish world was real, Claudette had come to learn. The wind and corn were both simulated interpretations by some grand cosmic entity but to her, it felt so real. Such a specific and odd detail to have, the way each stalk lazily drifted and swayed was so realistic that she found herself drifting along with them. Maybe, just for a moment, Claudette could convince herself that she wasn’t dying on the floor and that she was back home.

She remembered a field, surrounded by trees, which she would visit often. It was just down the street from her apartment with her parents and was her favorite place to find bugs and other strange specimens. It was a special place that she would often get lost in and forget about the outside world. It was quiet and safe. A place she could feel nothing and no one. In her special place, Claudette didn’t care about being alone. It was just her and her favorite things.

But here she wasn’t alone. Not really. The facade of stillness shattered when Claudette’s ears began to pound. There was a thumping in her chest, and she knew that the beast was closing in on her. She had hoped to have bled out long before the creature could kill her itself but once again, she wasn’t so lucky. She deserved to die, she scolded herself. If only she had tried harder, maybe her friends would have been okay. They wouldn’t have suffered. They wouldn’t be dead.

In this place, she had found something that had alluded her for her whole life; friendship. The other lost souls who were stolen from the real world and brought here, forced to endure this nightmare just like her. They’d talk to her and Claudette would feel only fear from them, fear of the unknown and fear of what lurks in the darkness. They weren’t prejudiced or judgemental about her and her lack of adequate socializing skills. But no matter how many times the others would reassure her, Claudette always harbored guilty thoughts. They were only friends with her out of necessity, being bunched together meant they needed each other to survive. They weren’t ‘friends’ in the traditional sense. That’s why she had to try so hard, she had to prove to them that she was worthy of being called a friend because she herself was a genuine person. But they were dead. She was only one person after all. One helpless, little girl who couldn’t even protect one person. God, how she tried. Tried beyond anything to save someone, anyone, but failed miserably. Now it was time for her to meet her end, and in some twisted way, she welcomed it.

The beast’s menacing aura washed over the cornfield, disturbing what little tranquillity it offered. Claudette was getting so tired now. She wondered if she’d even be lucid enough to feel her execution.  Through watery eyes, she saw the corn light up from the killer’s red stain and saw Its twisted frame stumble into the field. A crooked man, in one hand a crude cattle hammer and the other merciless chainsaw. Both weapons oozed blood and the beast’s clothes were drenched. Although Claudette was beyond drained, she still felt the panic burn in her chest. She didn’t want to die. Nobody did. Why was she here? Why did everyone have to die? Why was she always so pathetic? Why her?

Thoughts buzzed around her head like angry bees, stinging her with their implications and questions. Claudette couldn’t focus anymore, her mind going wild with the anxiety and guilt she has been plagued with. She couldn’t think. It was so loud now. Claudette just wanted it to be quiet again. But the pain, all the things that have been taken away from her, it was all too much. She has had so much stolen from her by the hands of the monster that now loomed over her back. She barely heard the killer as he raised his whirling chainsaw above his head, ready to bring it down upon her. It was all too much. She had to…

Something snapped within Claudette. A small string broke and suddenly she was flooded with all the rotten and dreadful things she and the others had to face each and every time they tried to escape and live. At that moment she felt everything: her past deaths, her fear for the killers, her inadequacy to helps those who really needed her. Everything. And it was all too much. The old Claudette would have cried under the weight of the cosmic anxiety she was suddenly buried under but this Claudette was tough, hardened and tired. Beyond exhausted. She, in some sense, was over it all. Claudette moaned and with surprising strength, she managed to prop herself onto her elbows then roll over onto her back. She forced her eyes to open and stay open and to focus solely on the man. She wasn’t going to turn away anymore, she wasn’t going to shut her eyes to the dark and cower in a corner. 

In some way, Claudette was claiming a small victory over the killer. She was taking from him the one thing she still had control over; her submission. She glared at the man before her and stole from him her compliance for the kill. She wanted to see the man as he killed her. She wanted to see the look in his eyes as he took her life away. She wanted to see if the man had anything in him. Was he hollow like an animal or dead tree? Or was there something to him? Regardless she wasn’t going to hide away anymore.

Claudette watched at the spinning teeth of the man’s chainsaw hungrily ripped through the air above his head. She wondered what it would look like when it finally came down. Would she still scream? Would she still feel it? She was getting restless now, her eyes scanning everything about the beast until eventually landing upon his own.

Silver pin-pricks of light gleamed back at her and she felt transfixed. Claudette could see no movement from the beast, no will to lurch forward and end this all. She saw only bewilderment. The crooked man’s chest heaved in and out with each heavy and strained breath he drew. It was like he was stuck. Frozen under the observant eyes of the poor scientist. She had never seen such hesitation from a killer before. It had been a good few seconds, maybe even a minute, before even the chainsaw ceased to move.

He had never expected her to look at him. No one ever looked at him without running away or screaming. Yet here she lay, as quiet as a gentle breeze, not moving, not screaming. He peered down at her and noticed that if he gave her his gaze, that she would take it and hold it firmly. No fear, no disgust, no prejudice. She merely peered at him and it confused him. They weren’t meant to be like this, quiet and watching. They were meant to be loud and running and scared! Max needed them to be scared so that he could make them quiet! He needed everything to be still and quiet. But she already was. 

All there was, was the corn, him and the girl. Quiet. Empty. Free of those who carried judgemental eyes and loudmouths. Max looked down again at the girl and saw that she was fading. She breathed slowly and he wanted nothing more than to leave her in the silence that he made. So, ever so lightly, Max began to step away from the girl, walking back into the corn until he was swallowed by it. And although the world was again made silent, his head still buzzed with the thoughts that the girl on the ground infected him with. 

Claudette watched with the last of her dying energy as the beast retreated back into the sea of yellow. He had left her to die. She wondered if maybe being killed by action would have been more of a blessing than this, this slow descent into the dark with only her thoughts as company. But as she lay there she realized she had no thoughts, no horrible ideas or memories. She had passed on her bees to the beast. All that was felt was silence and the gentle rustle of the corn.

How peaceful. 

[artificialqueens]

Soft like Lavender, Warm like Honey (branjie) - writworm42

A/N: Thank you 3000 to Holtzmanns for beta-ing me and pushing me to make this fic into what it is. I love you so much. Also, I’m not a farm person by any means, so rural & farming readers, if I fucked something up, please lmk!

It was no sooner that Brooke sat down on the steps of their porch, Riley’s collar jingling as he dutifully padded after her, that Vanessa became visible at the end of the road, her small frame reduced down a hundred times from the distance. Brooke waved, unable to stop herself from smiling widely as Vanessa trudged closer, her skin glistening with sweat and sun even through the veneer of dust kicking up under her feet.

“Ariel and Yvie already head home?” Brooke asked as Vanessa flopped down hard next to her, laying back on the sun-warmed wooden slats beneath her and letting Riley lick the sweat from her face.

“Fuckers left as soon as the lavender was all pruned.” Vanessa growled. “Ain’t even say goodbye.”

“It’s the end of the month, I guess.” Brooke laughed. Summer always came with a parade of university students from the neighbouring towns looking to tend crops and keep bees for a summer job, and without fail, by late August, all of them were fed up enough with wasting their precious social time that they did everything they could to wriggle out of any extra work. Brooke couldn’t blame them, and deep down, she knew neither could Vanessa, but she understood why it smarted. Of all the kids that blew through Hytes-Mateo Horticultural and Honey Farms, Ariel and Yvie were by far the two smartest and funniest they’d had. Yvie especially took a liking to verbal sparring matches with Vanessa over open bags of mulch, and Ariel and Vanessa’s mannerisms and senses of style were so similar that people who only saw them from behind as Vanessa walked Ariel through the basics of beekeeping would swear that they couldn’t tell who was who.

Vanessa would miss them, and in a certain selfish way, it hurt Brooke to know that as much as Vanessa loved her, when it was just the two of them for the other nine months, the fire in her eyes died a little, and her brisk, loud laugh became just a little duller.

It wasn’t personal, not even a question of who she was keeping company with–it was just that Vanessa was a social butterfly, an extrovert if ever there was one, someone who loved being the centre of attention. And as much as Brooke knew Vanessa craved and loved her attention, the attention of many was always better than the attention of just one, the same one as every day and night.

Brooke was different; she didn’t need very many people around her, and breaking routine made her sick to her stomach. Sometimes, all she craved was being in a cool room alone with Riley, the cats, and her thoughts, turning over conversations with herself in her head.

Brooke liked her space, and so she took it as much as possible, Vanessa the only one allowed to cross over the threshold. A little sad, maybe, to someone else, someone looking from the outside in, but to Brooke, it was more than enough.

They were silent for a moment, until Brooke reached beside herself and grabbed two mugs, one of which she handed over to Vanessa, who was struggling to heave herself upright.

“Thanks, ba– Again? ” Vanessa glared at Brooke pointedly, her eyes narrowing when Brooke only shrugged and took a cool sip from her mug.

“What?” Brooke tried and failed to hide a sheepish grin behind the mug’s thick ceramic edge. “Water just tastes better in a mug. You know it.”

Vanessa rolled her eyes, but took a sip of her water nonetheless, closing her eyes against the cool sensation of ice hitting her lips.

Just beyond them, the sky had begun to cast an orange glow over the neat, seemingly endless rows of purple that stretched out before them.

—

If there was one thing Vanessa loved about her farm, it was the blueberries. Early every morning, she would walk through rows and rows of containers, shooing away birds trying to break through the tents’ protective shields and scouting for plants that needed harvesting, ones that had begun to die and needed to be uprooted and the plot saved for re-planting later. It was almost meditative, in a way; walk, shoo, check, think. Walk, shoo, check, think. Walk, shoo, check, and think, and think, and think. About politics, about The Bachelorette, about what she would have for dinner that night–it didn’t matter.

Lately, her thoughts were about her life, and about Brooke, about how they started the farm together, how they got to where they were now. How she had met Brooke on her own family’s farm, when Brooke walked the three miles between her own family’s land to deliver the seeds her mother had promised Vanessa’s, shyly explaining that her truck had broken down halfway down the road. How Vanessa’s mother spent half the day fixing the engine, knowing full well Vanessa could have done it herself, winking at her as she suggested Brooke come in for a snack and some lemonade.

How they had gone to agricultural university together, spending late nights in their dorm room (bunking together being specifically Brooke’s suggestion to the university, thank you very much ) poring over textbooks about industrial harvesting and anatomical diagrams of pea plants, biting their lips and wondering if the girl opposite from them wanted to kiss them as much as they did.

How they had actually shared their first kiss during a continuing education beekeeping certification course, Brooke’s lips sticky with hard work and honey, her breath hot and hitched through excited giggles about how she’d wanted to do that for a long time.

Vanessa smiled to herself, a rush of affection blooming in her chest.

She had already known by then that she had loved Brooke, and though it took a while for Brooke to actually say the words, Vanessa knew how the other woman felt based on how she talked to her, how she listened to her go on about her interests like they were her own, how she lavished Vanessa in compliments and always knew the right things to say when she was down. Vanessa could tell in how Brooke looked at her, eyes brimming with not just happiness but utter satisfaction, like Vanessa was all she needed to be content for the rest of her life.

And then there was how Brooke touched her, soft and delicate and almost reverent, fingers tracing the smooth skin of Vanessa’s arms as if it were the finest fabric she’d ever laid hands on, beaming when Vanessa practically purred in content at the sensation.

Nothing had changed between them since then, not much. They’d gotten comfortable with each other, had their fights and rough patches, but always came through, always came back to each other, always stronger than they had been before. And Brooke still talked to, looked at, and touched Vanessa in the same way.

So Vanessa walked up and down the blueberry fields, shooing, checking, and thinking, remembering and formulating a plan.

–

They had finally gotten their farmland three years and eleven months ago, a month before they’d gotten married right on the land they’d built together. Or, more accurately, that their community had built for them–months before the deal was sealed on their land, they had friends and neighbours and old acquaintances banding together to help them renovate the farm’s barn, which they had inherited from the previous owners, an older couple who moved back to the city to live with their children. They had spent days out together getting ready for the handover, planting and buying and setting up connections, getting the word out that in less than a year, they’d have enough produce and flowers and honey to start building themselves a future.

A future that had started in that very barn, Brooke in her white pantsuit and Vanessa in her flowing princess dress, exchanging vows that they intended to keep even after death did them part.

I promise to always support you through thick and thin.

Brooke got sick and Vanessa threw her in the backseat of their pickup wrapped up in a blanket, siren-sounds blaring from their AUX cord through open windows as Vanessa tore down the highway to get to the nearest hospital. She made the same trip hours later when Brooke was getting her appendix out, towing back boxes of Brooke’s favourite flowers for when she woke up.

I promise to always listen, to always see your point of view.

Vanessa had a temper, and while Brooke often flared it, she always took Vanessa’s words to heart, cooling it with a compromise when she was ready and always knowing exactly how to soothe over and forgive the words both of them wish they hadn’t said.

I promise to share my equal portion of the work, and never leave you carrying any burden without help.

The big tasks were done together, the small tasks separately. Only sometimes, Vanessa finished her small tasks early, Brooke being just a little too meticulous when tending to their bees or checking the pH of their hydrangeas’ soil. And at those times, Brooke would find Vanessa by her side, both their hearts beating loud enough to fill the air without the need for conversation as they let their fingers brush together and shoulders bump, four hands getting the jobs done in no time at all.

I promise to love you always and forever, with the same passion as the first day we met.

In two months, it would be their fourth anniversary. And Brooke was making plans, big plans.

Vanessa was usually the romantic one, the one who always had some grand gesture or scheme cooking in her head. She loved surprising Brooke, and Brooke loved being surprised by her.

This time, though, Vanessa wouldn’t know what hit her.

–

They made dinner together in excited silence, completely in sync as they chop carrots and stir simmering pots, both of them in their own worlds as they think of the two months ahead.

–

“Happy anniversary, baby.” Vanessa woke Brooke up with a hand between her legs and two soft lips on the skin behind her ear. Brooke squirmed, keening into Vanessa’s hand as she yawned and mumbled something sleepily, the word anniversary barely intelligible somewhere in the middle of what barely qualified as a sentence.

Vanessa chuckled, working Brooke over with her hand for a few more moments before leaving another kiss on her temple, whispering out permission for Brooke to keep sleeping as she slipped out of bed.

Even as she walked out of their room, pulling on a sweater over her pajamas, she knew that Brooke would follow close behind.

Morning chores on the farm were simple, monotonous even, but for Vanessa, there was something beautiful in them, a charm that no other chores held for her. Not that they were any different from midday, or afternoon, or evening–rather, it was the time. You couldn’t go out and watch the sun rise at midday, the sky painting itself orange and pink as darkness faded behind the distantly-neighbouring hills. Nor could you feel the early-morning dew under your feet during the afternoon, the cold wetness somehow sharp as it marked itself across your ankles. And by evening, you’d have already heard the daily forecast, meaning you couldn’t be surprised by rain the report hadn’t warned you about, or by your wife coming out close behind you to bring you the jacket you bought precisely because it matched hers. Which meant you couldn’t lean up and thank her with a kiss on her lips, fat and heavy droplets rolling down your back and her hands warm and rough around your waist.

Vanessa was the luckiest woman in the world, and by the time they retreated in for breakfast, muddy boots and soaked jackets laid out to dry in the foyer, she was buzzing with excitement at the thought that tonight, she just might get even luckier.

–

The mixed-berry pancakes sizzled on the crisco-greased grill, the tangy smell of cooking strawberries smothered with thick layers of batter seeming to waft out of the kitchen and fill the whole house in a matter of minutes. Brooke smiled over at Vanessa, who was practically bouncing with excitement on her chair at the kitchen table as she watched Brooke work. Brooke couldn’t help but smile a little herself at the reaction; after all, the church didn’t beg for her to run the kitchen on Shrove Tuesday for nothing. Not that Vanessa couldn’t cook–it was just that when it came to pancakes, Brooke couldn’t be beat. A niche talent, for sure, but hey. Once or twice a year, on special days like today, it made Vanessa incredibly happy, and as far as Brooke was concerned, that made it her most important skill.

Brooke smiled widely as she slid the pancakes onto a large plate, gingerly switching off the grill before rushing to the table to put the pancakes down while they were still hot.

“Oh my God , babe, they smell so fucking good!” Vanessa licked her lips and rubbed her hands together, her feet lifting up on the floor and swinging in happiness.

“You say that every time I make them.” Brooke laughed, though the compliment still made her heart swell with pride.

“That’s ‘cause it’s true every time.” Vanessa retorted sheepishly, darting a fork out to stab at and drag a pancake onto her plate. “Pass the syrup?”

“You’re sweet.” Brooke grinned as she passed over the jug, her fingers sticking a little to its plasticky surface. Vanessa didn’t respond; she was completely focused on pouring just the perfect amount of syrup on her pancakes, just so so that they were covered in the most correct way. Brooke watched with her amusement, and then her mind went other places.

She’d planned the perfect day for them, the kind of day that was beyond even Vanessa’s wildest dreams. Just after breakfast, Ariel, Yvie, and some of their friends would arrive to work the farm all day while Brooke drove Vanessa into town, taking a scenic route she herself had only recently discovered after accidentally taking a wrong turn on a trip to the (relatively) local mall. When in town, she’d bring Vanessa to a private cookie-baking class, then they’d enjoy an all-you-can-eat seafood lunch before driving back and stopping in at their church, where they would renew their vows.

Not to mention the surprise she’d have ready for Vanessa when they’d arrive back home–Brooke had spent ages picking out the perfect roses to strip petals from and had Yvie’s word that they’d be scattered on the bed with classical music playing and champagne chilling, all the cliches she knew Vanessa loved, when they’d finally retreat up to their bedroom that night.

Brooke was just about to mention the plans to Vanessa when suddenly, Vanessa spoke up first. Or, rather, blurted something out, something so big that Brooke spat out her pancakes and had to ask Vanessa to repeat herself.

“I wanna have a baby with you, Brooke.”

–

Vanessa knew she’d made the wrong decision the minute Brooke spat out her food, but for some reason she persisted, hoping she was misinterpreting the gesture for some kind of pleasant shock, and that Brooke might wipe her face and smile, tell Vanessa that she was thinking the same thing. The minute she’d said it a second time, though, Brooke’s face confirmed the worst. Shit.

“Wh–Where’s this coming from?” Brooke’s brow knit in confusion, her voice suddenly shaken.

Stupid. Vanessa had had a plan; she was going to butter Brooke up, hint a little during the day, bring out baby pictures and ask when Brooke’s mind was in the right place, when she wasn’t going to overthink all the little details that they’d have to sort out down the road. Why hadn’t she stuck to it? How could she let herself get so excited that she ruined the conversation by starting it too early?

“Brooke, listen–”

But Brooke was already on a tangent of her own, the cogs clearly turning in her head to formulate the words coming out of her mouth as she spoke, shaking her head.

“I mean, it’s not like I’m opposed to the idea, we talked about that before, but we can’t , babe, we just can’t, not while we’re like this–”

“What do you mean, like this?” The words hit Vanessa like a slap in the face. Brooke faltered, and somehow, that made it even worse–whatever Brooke had meant, clearly it was so deep-seated that she couldn’t even tell Vanessa what exactly she was trying to express.

How could that be, when Vanessa thought it was going so well? The farm was booming and they were pulling in more income than ever. They had a great social life with friends from the community. Riley and the cats were thriving. Hell, they were cuddling and having sex every night , so clearly it wasn’t anything in the romance department, either. They were happy , or so Vanessa thought.

So what the fuck was wrong?

“It’s just that we’re… Well, there’s just so much to consider , Ness. Financially–”

“Financially, we’re doin’ A-plus, so I don’t see why that’s an issue.”

“It’s not just about wealth, it’s about where the money is going, we’d have to divert significant funds, which means we couldn’t expand–”

“Cut the shit.” Vanessa leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You an’ I both know that we ain’t lookin’ to expand that fast. We would’ve talked about it by now if we were, an’ our growth hasn’t been that fast anyway. So what’s the real problem?”

Brooke looked at her with wide, sad eyes, and that’s when Vanessa knew.

“You don’t think we’ll be good parents.”

“There’s just so many ways we could fuck it up, Vanessa. I mean, think about it–it won’t stay a baby forever. We can’t protect it forever. And what if we’re the ones to hurt it in the first place?” Brooke was getting progressively redder and redder in the face as she continued, “Do you know how to deal with it if the kid gets bullied? If God forbid, they go through some kind of trauma? Or get into an accident, or get so sick they might die? If they get into the wrong crowd when they’re a teenager and start doing drugs?”

“Well, they wouldn’t, because–”

“You don’t know they wouldn’t, Ness! You don’t. And I…” Brooke stopped suddenly, looking up at Vanessa for the first time since starting her spiral.

Vanessa realized at that moment that she was shaking a little, though she couldn’t figure out why.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea to bring a kid into the world when you’re so naive that you think the power of love can protect it from everything.” Somehow, the suddenly soft look in Brooke’s eyes made her words even worse to hear, her pity turning the accusation into daggers.

“I don’t think–” Vanessa started, her heart dropping into her stomach as Brooke cut her off with a shake of her head.

“Your response to me was literally ‘they wouldn’t.’ How do you know they wouldn’t?”

How the fuck could Brooke stay so calm?

“Ness, I think it’s wonderful that you have such a lovely view of the world.” Brooke continued, “And maybe you’re right, maybe you can protect our kid from everything. But I can’t, and that means that I can’t in good conscience pretend I’m ready for one. Not until I know how to deal with all the worst-case scenarios.”

There was silence, and Vanessa felt hot tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. Brooke was supposed to be excited. She was supposed to say yes. She was supposed to smile and hug Vanessa and start talking about adoption in that excited way she always talked about the future when she was sure of it.

Only Brooke wasn’t sure of it. And now Vanessa wasn’t, either.

“I think I want to be alone right now.” The words came out of Vanessa’s mouth before she even knew what she was saying, but Brooke didn’t fight them. Instead, she only nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving Vanessa alone with the pancakes.

Vanessa instantly wished she hadn’t.

–

They had talked about a kid well before they got married. What they’d name it, how they’d raise it, what kinds of toys they’d buy it and what colours they’d choose for its nursery. They’d name it Isabela if it were a girl, Brock if it was a boy. Or maybe Jordan or Cameron, something more gender-neutral, so that the kid could choose for itself what it was going to be, or opt out of that decision altogether. Their kid would be adopted, too, because when they talked about how they’d bring little Isabela-Brock-Jordan-Cameron into the world, that’s just what felt right. They would buy their kid all sorts of toys, soft ones and crinkling ones and squishy ones, ones that made noise and ones that stayed silent, ones that lit up and others that were sewn together with patches of loud patterned fabric. They would paint the nursery yellow, and decorate it with butterflies and giraffes and teddy bears.

No matter what, whenever they talked about their future child, Brooke and Vanessa decided that it would grow up to be safe, kind, compassionate, funny, smart, and absolutely, unequivocally loved.

That was then, though. Now they were grown, and married for four years, and the aunts of no less than twelve nieces and nephews. And the more those kids grew, the more Brooke saw all the things that could go wrong, and the more fear overtook Brooke when she thought about having her own kid. There were so many ways she could fuck that kid up, and she loved even the idea of her child too fiercely to think about hurting it.

So wasn’t she doing the right thing by preemptively making sure she could never hurt it, by making sure it went to family that could keep it safe?

Or maybe it wasn’t about the kid at all. Maybe it was just about herself, about how she could avoid any sense of guilt or blame.

She thought of Vanessa suddenly, and a flash of resentment stirred in her stomach, cutting through it like a knife.

How could Vanessa be so hopeful, so sure ? How could she still be holding onto their dream, so determined to make it come true? And how could she have the gall to bring that dream over to Brooke, make her feel so conflicted and guilty for being the one to squash it?

How could she bring all those dreams back up, make them resurface when Brooke had done her best to convince herself that she didn’t want them anymore?

“I thought I might find you here.” Brooke turned around and saw Vanessa walking towards her through the rows and rows of blueberry cages. Of course Vanessa would look here; of course. Leave it to Brooke to need space from her wife and go to the one place that had her written all over it.

“We’re gonna have to harvest soon.” Vanessa plopped down beside Brooke at the edge of the field in silence and staring back through the crops with her.

“Yvieand Ariel can do it today when they get here.” Brooke grunted. “I was gonna leave them to take care of everything today with a few of their friends while we went out to do some stuff I’d planned.” She grunted as she looked over at Vanessa, her wife’s brow up in confusion and surprise. “Surprise, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa replied hollowly.

“You really think we could be parents?” Brooke asked, forcing the question out before she could think twice about it.

“I do.” Vanessa nodded. “I mean, sure, we got shit to figure out. And we can’t protect the kid from everything, you right about that. But that don’t mean we can’t try, and it don’t mean we can’t love ‘em and support ‘em anyway. I mean, that’s what our parents did, right? And we turned out pretty alright.”

Brooke laughed a little despite herself. “Yeah, I guess we did.”

They sat there in silence a little longer, the wind picking up and whistling in the mid-morning air, until Vanessa slowly leaned over to rest her head lightly on Brooke’s shoulder.

“You remember when we started this farm?” Vanessa asked, closing her eyes as if she was trying to conjure an image of the memory in her mind. Brooke did the same, the flashes and snippets playing through her eyes with ease.

“Remember saving up for it? And our parents cosigning that loan, the one we thought we’d never get out of?” Brooke laughed as she recalled sitting in the financial advisor’s office, Vanessa’s hand on hers the only thing stopping her from tearing her skin apart in anxiety as they weathered his discerning coughs and little hmmmms , their future at his mercy. Her parents had been so much calmer, as if they knew everything would be okay, as if the huge estimate and heavy contract the advisor whipped up was nothing more than a few dollars and a single slip of paper.

“Yeah, moneybags was pretty dumbfounded when we paid it back so fast, wasn’t he?” Vanessa laughed too, scooting closer. “Remember how anxious we was, plantin’ our first crop?”

“The lavender.” Brooke nodded, bringing her arm over Vanessa’s shoulder. “I’d been growing it for years , but I was still so nervous I’d fuck it up, remember?”

“Yes, bitch, I do.” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “God, you were the worst back then, always so convinced you wasn’t enough…”

The tone sobered quickly then, and the silence resumed.

Not enough. That’s right. She could still feel the weight of the insecurity in her chest, the anxiety that constantly played through her head, creeping into her bones and making her feel on edge. All the things that could’ve gone wrong, all the things that she could have fucked up…

“But you was enough, wasn’t you? You showed everyone. I mean, look at us. Now we got lavender, bees, blueberries, an’ you know we almost sold on the hydrangeas startin’. The risks paid off, thanks to you bein’ such a hard worker an’ thorough planner.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t just me, babe. Both of us. I mean, you’re just such a big thinker, you’ve always got these amazing new ideas…” She laughed despite herself, quickly wiping away the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.

Vanessa noticed, though, she always noticed, and leaned in to kiss Brooke on the cheek before guiding her face over to look Vanessa in the eyes.

“We make a good team, Brooky-poo. An’ there’s risks in everythin’ we do, but we always get through it. ‘Cause we got each other, we got our parents, Hell, we even got Yvie an’ Ariel’s lazy asses if we need ‘em.”

Brooke laughed harder than she had all morning, and when Vanessa smiled, genuine and happy and relieved, Brooke swore she could look at her wife’s face forever.

“You really think we could do it, Ness? We could be parents?”

“Oh, baby.” Vanessa’s smile took on a tenderness that melted Brooke’s heart. “I don’t think we could do it. I know we could. No matter what happens to come our way.”

Yvie and Ariel called out to announce their arrival at that moment, they and their friends visible walking towards them at the edge of the field. But even the noise of ten undergrad students wishing them happy anniversary and assuring them they could go, that they got this, couldn’t drown out Brooke’s answer, her words carried on the wind.

“Let’s do it, Ness. Let’s have a baby.”

–

They got the call around 2 AM that Plastique, the mother of the little girl they were adopting, had gone into labour. It was as if time had suddenly sped up, with everything on fast-forward as they threw together clothes, a thank-you gift for the girl’s mom, a diaper bag full of baby essentials, and–almost forgotten but snatched up at the last minute–their video camera. Excitement choked the air throughout their whole drive to the hospital, the highway seeming to stretch on endlessly and the route somehow seeming twice as long the closer they got. They were both so giddy that neither could speak, not unless it was to ask a panicked question (“Oh my God, babe,  did we forget the mittens?”) or to just squeal with happiness that the day had finally arrived (“We’re having a baby, baby! We’re having a baby!”). Every song on the radio seemed to be a love song that night, and so when they arrived at the hospital at last, they were practically floating on air until they finally set foot in the maternity ward.

Despite the late hour, the ward was absolute chaos–screams and cries echoed through the hallways, and nurses, doctors, and impatient family members rushing about gave the whole floor an air of urgency that caused a pit to open in Vanessa’s stomach.

What if some of those screams were coming from Plastique’s room? What if they weren’t regular pain, but a sign that something was wrong? What if there were complications, and the baby was sick, or injured, or worse, about to die? About to die, and she hadn’t even been there to see it born–

“Ness.” Brooke squeezed her hand, bringing her back to reality, “I know. It’s okay.”

Vanessa breathed out deeply as Brooke led her into their baby’s room, the permission to be scared somehow managing to calm her fear almost completely. And the minute they walked into the room, the minute they saw the Plastique in front of them squeezing her husband’s hand, forehead sheened with sweat, it was as if everything else lost any meaning.

“What can I do to help?”

–

They were there for another eight hours before Cameron finally greeted the world, loud and big and already the best thing to ever happen to them. Plastique was the first to hold her, Brooke watching with a tear in her eye as the young girl kissed their baby good-bye, then passed Cam off to Brooke.

Brooke had thought about this moment since the very beginning of their journey towards adoption. The moment she’d finally be able to hold her baby, the minute she’d be able to call it a part of herself.

Call her a part of herself.

It was funny; back when she had imagined this moment, she had imagined herself tense, scared, fighting back images of herself somehow fucking it up the minute her little girl was passed off to her. Thinking that she might drop her, she might hurt her, that Cam might actually hate her and start crying. That maybe, just maybe, Plastique would decide she wanted Cam back, and snatch her up and run before Brooke could even kiss her daughter good-bye. Now, though, she was waiting for that shoe to drop, and it never came. Instead, all she saw was Cameron’s beautiful, round face, and in that moment, everything clicked.

“Oh, did we miss it?” Everyone in the room looked up in surprise as Brooke and Vanessa’s mothers came crashing into the room, arms full of fake flowers, teddy bears, and latex-free balloons that floated up taller than Vanessa.

“No, Mami,” Vanessa laughed, kissing Brooke, then Cam, before taking her turn to scoop her new daughter up into her arms, “You haven’t missed anything at all.”

–

As far as Vanessa was concerned, Cam was the most beautiful baby in the world. Sure, she was small, red, and wrinkled, kind of like a really fat, really ripe tomato, but she was theirs . And that made her more amazing than anything else the world had to offer.

“Welcome home, baby!” Vanessa squealed enthusiastically as she walked through the door, Cam swaddled up in a blanket in her arms. “D’you like it?”

“She hasn’t even seen it yet, baby.” Brooke laughed, closing the door behind them.

“Oh, hush.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “She loves it here, see? She’s even waking up to look at everything!”

It was like she’d just said magic words; Brooke dropped the diaper bag she was holding and ran to Vanessa’s side, a huge grin spread on her face as she began to coo and fuss over Cam’s wide-eyed stare.

“She looks so confused, oh my God ,” Brooke squealed, already practically in tears, “I love her, Vanessa, I love her so fucking much.”

“Hey!” Vanessa barked, “You want some kinda swear to be her first word? Watch your mouth, bitch.” Realizing what she’d just said, she reddened as Brooke began to laugh.

“What d’you think, Cammie, should we take you upstairs to see your new room?” Brooke took Cam from Vanessa’s arms and cradled her gently, bringing her up to her face and breathing in that intoxicating new-baby smell, the scent even sweeter now that it belonged to her own child.

“Oh, d’you know if my mom dropped off Bertha yet?” Vanessa frowned as they walked up the stairs, and Brooke nodded.

“She texted and said she’d be back in about an hour with lunch and some food for the week, too.” They pushed their way into the nursery, decked out with soft yellow walls, monkey-patterned curtains, and, indeed, Bertha, a stuffed frog that had served as Vanessa’s favourite toy growing up, sitting on the change table. In the middle of the room, just beside the table, sat Cam’s basin, a white and lacy thing that the little girl seemed to settle into right when they put her down. Of course, this was short lived, and she began to cry soon after Brooke let her down, but all was well again when she was in Brooke’s arms, safe and sound and comforted as Brooke rocked her back and forth.

“See?” Vanessa placed a hand on Brooke’s shoulder, the other one coming to rest gently on Cam’s small, bundled-up body as they continued to rock her gently, “We got this, Brooke. Together.”

–

You’re not going to get any sleep tonight, I hope you know that, mija. Vanessa’s mother’s coy warning rang in her ears as Brooke and Vanessa settled to bed that night, baby monitor blinking by their bedside and door wide open to give them a view into where Cameron was sleeping. They were both on edge, both listening for any signs of trouble, any little whimpers that might turn into full-blown cries.

When Vanessa woke at 3 AM, realizing with a jolt that she’d fallen asleep, and that she hadn’t been woken up the entire night, the first thing she did was look for Brooke, only to find her wife’s side of the bed empty.

Oh no.

Oh God.

Without another second passing, Vanessa was up and sprinting across the hall.

When she got to Cam’s room, though, her heart instantly returned to its normal pace, all her worries dissipating.

Brooke was standing in the middle of the room, bags under her eyes and their daughter’s tiny form nestled against her chest, head firmly supported in one of Brooke’s hands.

“She started crying about half an hour ago, and didn’t want me to leave.” Brooke whispered, shrugging a little.

“How many times have you been up tonight?” Vanessa frowned, walking over to Brooke and laying a soft hand on Cameron’s back for good measure.

“I don’t know,” Brooke shrugged again, bouncing Cam when she stirred in her arms until the little girl settled again, “Four or five, maybe? It’s okay, she just wants company. Maybe we should move the basin into our room for now?”

Seeing Brooke’s face go from loving to concerned, biting her lip with worry as she continued to bounce their daughter lightly, absolutely melted Vanessa’s heart. Brooke had worried so much, had been so hesitant, yet here she was, already attentive, already intuitive, already knowing exactly what their baby needed.

How fitting that all their baby needed right now was her mothers.

Vanessa nodded, already moving to grab the basin and carry it into the bedroom, Brooke following closely behind.

“What’s the matter?” Vanessa frowned at Brooke, who had suddenly frozen to the spot in front of the newly-settled basin, her demeanour becoming hesitant.

“I, um… What if she cries again?” Brooke looked down at their daughter, brow knit in concern. Vanessa couldn’t help but give a laugh.

“Go sleep, baby.” Vanessa craned up to give Brooke a kiss on the cheek before gently replacing Brooke’s hold on Cam’s sleeping body with her own arms, “I got you.”

Brooke smiled gratefully, collapsing into the bed and snuggling up into the blankets with a contented sigh.

“And your mama thought she wouldn’t be a good parent.” Vanessa cooed to Cameron as she leaned down to give the sleeping baby a gentle kiss, finally laying her down in her basin and creeping back into bed, hoping that Brooke hadn’t fallen asleep before having a chance to hear her.

When Brooke turned and snuggled close, though, Vanessa knew that Brooke had absorbed every single word.

[tetch-a-sketch]

I have created this post to attempt to articulate why I believe veganism is unethical, negatively impacts the environment, and is unsustainable in the long term.  I tried to make this rant largely evidence-based and have tried to limit my own personal input on these subjects.  Nonetheless, this rant still has a clear bias.  Lastly, I do not care about your own opinions on the information I am about to present, so please do not send me anons about this post unless you want to add helpful information or have a genuine question.  

I want to start off by discussing how veganism negatively impacts the environment and local ecosystems, as well as the livelihood of individuals in other countries.  The reason why I am starting off with this is that it is a very common misconception that veganism is somehow “better for the environment,” when that isn't necessarily true when you look at the statistics.  

To start, the scale at which produce is grown for export to other countries negatively impacts the lives of individuals in the country of origin by destroying the local economy, leading to massive deforestation, and affecting the overall national market.

For this example, I am going to be focusing on the avocado market in Mexico.  This is a popular topic in the news right now, but there are dozens of cases just like this with other produce and products around the world, but you can search for those on your own time.  The Guardian reports that in Mexico the avocado, which “used to be a dietary staple, is now too expensive for many ordinary consumers. And, now the country where the avocado is believed to have originated is considering the unthinkable: importing avocados from abroad.”

Economic secretary Ildefonso Guajardo further expands on this by reporting that “we’re not ruling it out” as “avocados are so popular on the international level that it’s generating price pressure in the national market.”  Avocados have now become so expensive that regular citizens who do not have much extra money to spend cannot make enough to afford them.  As stated in the articles above, this even applies to avocado farmers themselves.

Before this article was published, The Guardian published another article in 2016 titled, “Rising avocado prices fuelling illegal deforestation in Mexico.” It briefly illustrates how “the size of the market ... has become a lucrative business for Mexico’s drug gangs, with extortion money paid to criminal organizations such as Los Caballeros Templarios (The Knights Templar) in Michoacán – the state that produces most of Mexico’s avocados – estimated at 2bn pesos ($109m) a year.”  

The mass avocado farming in Mexico has also lead to rapid deforestation. This rapid deforestation not only affects the local environment but also the global one.  This is because there is a massive number of species that migrate to Mexico’s forests for breeding, shelter, food that now have to compete for land and die off.  This includes Monarch butterflies and raptors, among other birds.  

Not only is this horrible for the natural ecosystems, but Greenpeace Mexico reports that people are also suffering from this for a multitude of reasons.  They write, “beyond the displacement of forests and the effects on water retention, the high use of agricultural chemicals and the large volumes of wood needed to pack and ship avocados are other factors that could have negative effects on the area’s environment and the wellbeing of its inhabitants,”.  Not only is this issue leading to deforestation and killing populations of animals, but the chemicals used in these illegal operations also poison the land and the inhabitants nearby.  

On the topic of human health, as stated briefly before, veganism is not a viable option for a large population over a period of time.  

There was a biophysical simulation done in which a team of scientists “calculated human carrying capacity under ten diet scenarios. The scenarios included two reference diets based on actual consumption and eight ‘Healthy Diet scenarios that complied with nutritional recommendations but varied in the level of meat content.”  Overall this study found that carrying capacity (X,X) was “higher for scenarios with less meat and highest for the lacto-vegetarian diet. However, the carrying capacity of the vegan diet was lower than two of the healthy omnivore diet scenarios.”  To summarize, this study found that the average “vegan diet is actually less sustainable than two of the vegetarian diets and two out of the four omnivorous diets they studied.”  PBS has analyzed this study and many more; someone wrote an entire article breaking down why “going vegan isn't the most sustainable option for humanity.” In this article, PBS/NOVA also states, “Even partially omnivorous diets rank above veganism in terms of sustainability; incorporating about 20 to 40% meat in your diet is actually better for the long-term course of humanity than being completely meat-free.”

Not only is the diet unsuitable, but it is also unethical as it can actually lead to more fossil fuels being used, which overall is worse for the environment. Paul Fishbeck, a professor at Dietrich College of Humanities and Social Sciences, states that: “eating lettuce is over three times worse in greenhouse gas emissions than eating bacon,”  This is because some of the most common vegetables require more resources per calorie than meats like pork and poultry.  Chris Hendrickson, a Professor of Hamerschlag University, and Ph.D. student Tom Michelle Fishbeck studied how the obesity epidemic in the U.S. is specifically affecting the overall environment. Carnegie Mellon University states: “On one hand, the results showed that getting our weight under control and eating fewer calories, has a positive effect on the environment and reduces energy use, water use and GHG emissions [X] from the food supply chain by approximately 9 percent.

However, eating the recommended “healthier” foods — a mix of fruits, vegetables, dairy, and seafood — increased the environmental impact in all three categories: Energy use went up by 38 percent, water use by 10 percent and GHG emissions by 6 percent.”

Lastly, I want to talk about prison labor in the U.S.  I am aware that this is old news to some, and doesn’t necessarily always apply to vegans and choice food suppliers, but after the infamous Whole Foods prison scandal (X,X,X), I find it necessary to add, especially since Whole Foods suppliers defended their use of prison labor back in 2015. American slavery was technically abolished in 1865, but a loophole in the 13th Amendment has allowed it to continue “as a punishment for crimes” well into the 21st century. The private prison labor industry is still growing at a rapid rate in America because of this loophole and has been since the ’80s.  Section 1 of the 13th amendment states that “Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction.” As linked above, there are dozens of articles and hours of research that people publish in which they go into details about which corporations are the biggest offenders of using this loophole.  If this subject is new to you, I recommend you researching it on your own time (X,X,X). Lastly, on the subject of forced prison labor, I briefly want to touch upon this short documentary and corresponding article by the Atlantic (X).  This overviews the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola.  In their short documentary/article titled  “for Life: Rehabilitation and Reform Inside the Louisiana State Penitentiary,” they reveal: “There are more than 6,000 men currently imprisoned at the Louisiana State Penitentiary at Angola—three-quarters of them are there for life, and nearly 80 percent are African American.” Not only is the heinous, but they are reporting that this prison is an old southern slave-plantation-turned-prison, they also in passing state that there are prisoners in this prison/plantation whose ancestors were slaves at this exact plantation when slavery was still legal in the U.S. I will warn you that this documentary does try to focus on the rehabilitation of the prisoners and paints attempts to paint this loophole as a beneficial, when in reality a lot of these plantation prisons are supplying produce for those areas and corporations around them. (X,X)  Forced prison labor is used extensively in the U.S., and it is ironic how many vegans, who claim to care about the wellbeing of others, buy products (especially cheap produce) that are supplied by corporations that use forced prison labor.

I just wanted to conclude this post by saying that I personally think that veganism can be applied to a large population eventually, but for right now the vegan diet wastes too many scarce resources that can be better spent feeding more people effectively in other ways.  There is no ethical way to be vegan while still relying on capitalism.  If this post does for some reason end up getting popular, I might make a second one going into the vegan “ethical treatment of animals” and beekeeping for honey vs sugar cane plantations.  But for now, this rant is already very large.