#but i do carry around a gun on the property just because coyotes are not cute and fluffy they are VICIOUS ANIMALS

[kudos-si-do]

and this crazy person keeps trying to pull a tarp over my head

hi this is lauren from horse customer support how can I help you

[hellpuppetswithfleshymembers]

All poking fun at captain dipshit and his dumb song aside, this is a good read that takes a real look at what’s been happening for a long time in our nation’s real small towns.

I didn’t know why people kept mentioning “small towns,” but assumed it was a pop culture reference I was missing.

So, I googled it.

Jason Aldean, a country singer I've never heard of and will probably never think about again after people stop talking about him, recently released a song called, "Try That in a Small Town."

The song, if you've not heard it, threatens violence on people who do various things like car jacking, stomping on a flag, “cussing out” a cop, or robbing a liquor store at gun point.

A friend of mine pointed out that Aldean is from Macon, Georgia, with a population of over 150,000.

That’s… not a small town.

I’m from Logan, WV. Population is 1,400.

I came from Chauncey, WV, a coal camp in Logan. Population is 283. I am actually from “Chauncey Holler” (Hollow). Population is probably fewer than 100 people.

I’m from an actual small town.

I’m descended from the Hatfield/Vance clan of Hatfield and McCoy repute. I’m cut from the Shawnee resistance to the Indian Removal Act. My ancestors were freedmen. My ancestors mined the coal that kept the pacified middle class warm and cozy in their domesticated complacency.

And yes, if you come to an actual small town as an outsider and do things that seem threatening to insiders, they’ll handle it internally.

That much is true.

What Jason Aldean is talking about isn’t anything like what people from actual small towns would say. In fact, you won’t hear from them at all because it is not in the ethos of people from insular, isolated communities to try and posture with the outside world.

They don’t think people are actually going to come there and try to burn their crumbling infrastructure and rob their single-wide trailers and their dead grandma’s house they squat with duct tape and cut up trash bags for windows.

No city person is traveling to the middle of nowhere to steal your Aunt Gert’s Buick Skylark, Jason.

They don’t carry enough jugs of oil and coolant to pull over every few miles and top it off because they have not been waiting on that black lung settlement for over a decade to get their car fixed.

Noey (Noah) Mullens, the town mechanic, passes everyone’s car inspection because no one cares about regulations. The police would not ticket Aunt Gert, either, because when most everyone is that Poor, the police know better.

The police don’t “cross that line.”

No one is afraid of getting caught or being reported because no one is looking.

No one cares. No city folk care. No suburban country music singers care.

They’re invisible.

Police do not have much of a role in small towns. People do handle things on their own. No one is spitting in a cop’s face in a small town because Officer Joe Sias and his brother Don aren’t patrolling.

They probably never fired their weapons on the job at anything other than a rabid raccoon or coyote, and they’re considerably less armed than the average citizen. No one calls the police to report crimes.

But in a small town, you are very likely to be robbed by your neighbor’s adult kid with a meth or oxycontin addiction. They’ll steal your grandparents’ cancer and hospice meds and your tube TV.

And no one riots in a small town because they can’t afford to reach the power structures that left them so poor.

At nights, people steal the flood grates around small towns for scrap metal. They loot abandoned houses and businesses for copper wire and metal pipes to scrap. No one is ever going to revitalize those structures, so people just look the other way. By day they pick up beer and soda cans on the side of the road— for scrap.

Anything to avoid the mines.

Aldean’s video shows b-roll of protests, property destruction, violence, and generally unrelated incidents in big cities.

Nobody in those videos cares about what’s happening in somebody’s small town. This is the suburbanite white dude fantasy version of Scarface. It’s the product of having no sense of personal identity and appropriating some ill-imagined mixture of actual generational Poverty culture (which is not a white phenomenon) and a wholly American mythos of having a closed culture that worships assimilation.

They often don’t think they’re racist because they often do genuinely like their Black and Brown neighbors who fish and hunt with them and go to their churches and whose kids are on their kids’ little league team.

They have a vision of living in community that they can’t bring to reality because things have changed since the boomer generation's good hand. They have dreams of being financially successful if they just work hard enough, but those dreams are not coming to fruition because they’re an American myth.

They’re trying to hold on to a sense of grandiosity characterized by surviving struggles they never experienced and by having values they don’t understand or have no connection to.

They are angry at anyone defying the order because they cope with the loss of hope for a mythical future by trying to blame people being crushed by the systems that are also eroding the white working class (at a slower rate).

The rate has been so slow, they don’t realize their sentimentality about how great this nation is came from lies they were told and an identity that is as empty and illusory as the history they learned in school.

It’s the equivalent of trying to be the proverbial “golden child” to an abusive parent, maintaining the illusion that the truth-telling “scapegoat” is actually the problem.

That’s the “great again” that people like that bank on. The proverbial “New Jerusalem.”

Is the song racist?

That’s the wrong question, because it’s oversimplified.

Is the song a mediocre by-product of a mass delusion that white settlers have agreed to maintain because they too had their identities stolen by colonialism, so that they are also defined by Uncle Sam’s toxic legacy as the golden child who is too cowardly to ask questions, hear the truth, accept accountability, or fight back?

Yes.

This peacock of a song is a blatant and pitiable attempt at being unable to accept that they only get a pass from Uncle Sam when they assimilate into a fictional character that upholds the colonial ego of Big Daddy Nationalism and Mama Manifest Destiny.

Unpacking that everything you’ve ever been told is a lie is hard work, and they’re not cut out for that because they’re not actually workers.

They aren’t the cheap labor they benefit from. Their “small town” fantasy is as sincere as their “honest worker” fantasy.

They need to consult their ancestors, and not just the ones who got free [stolen] land.

My “small town” ancestors shot the sheriffs and the deputies, they burned whole towns to the ground, and they led the most violent uprisings in the history of Uncle Sam’s invasion because they did not see the people upholding the status quo as “their own.”

Jason Aldean has no idea who “his people” are. They’re not “small town” people. They’re the middle mass, the embodied entitlement that one inherits when they come from a legacy of settler colonialism, slave trading, and evangelical purity culture that justified genocide.

They’ve been convincing themselves they’re fighting for something noble for so long, they see the loss of that illusion as a threat to the only identity colonialism left them with— generic whiteness.

What he can’t handle is that he’s not a “good ol’ boy,” he’s just a bully doing the business of an abusive parent to preserve the illusion of the “pillar of community.”

If he knew how to be in community, he would not be building a cult following on nationalistic propaganda.

[solivar]

The Left Hand Path: Three Years Ago

aka the One In Which Genji and Zenyatta meet.

The Standing Stones of Santa Ana Pueblo

Location: Just above the Red Line off I-25 N/Old New Mexico Route 68 N, Sandoval County north of the Albuquerque Military Exclusion Area.

Before the Crisis, Santa Ana Pueblo was a thriving Tamayame reservation, part of the Greater Albuquerque Metropolitan area, and a major tourist draw in the region owing to its world-class golf courses and club, a well-regarded spa resort, a casino and Michelin-starred restaurant, and a multitude of easily accessible cultural sites and events spread throughout the year. All of that changed on the afternoon of August 13, 2046 when Omnic forces advancing on Albuquerque breached the containment cordon along Route 40 and the US military, massed there to stop them, unleashed experimental high energy weaponry designed for that task.

Once the dust settled, the city of Albuquerque and much of the surrounding area, including the Sandia and Santa Ana Pueblos, was almost completely leveled. In the aftermath, the military cordoned off the ruins of the city inside the Albuquerque Military Exclusion Area, which remains under heavily patrolled Federal military control to this day. Evacuees from the surrounding area were strongly encouraged not to return, with offers to purchase their land at pre-Crisis market value to sweeten the deal. Many accepted, a handful did not, and those that chose to do so returned to a pueblo whose buildings were reduced to rubble and scattered with wreckage -- and something weird that was neither.

The Standing Stones of Santa Ana Pueblo occupy a relatively compact chunk of land on the grounds of what was once Santa Ana Golf Club, shielded from casual view by a stand of cottonwood trees that somehow survived the explosions that leveled the clubhouse and most of the other course structures and did significant damage to the surrounding area. There are nine of them, standing in a geometrically perfect circle, varying in size from from well over six feet to a little over five, perfectly hexagonal in shape, crafted of a dark stone that at least superficially resembles basalt. The inner surface of each stone is densely carved with petroglyphs incised deeply into the rock. The outer surface of each stone is carved with one petroglyph unique to that stone and which cannot be found on any of the others, inside or out. Local experts on Native American petroglyphs continue to research this topic but, as of this writing, none of the petroglyphs that appear on the Standing Stones resemble any glyphs that appear on historical sites in the region.

Nor were the Standing Stones a feature of the area before the Omnic Crisis, as confirmed by surviving photos and video of the course and local residents of the area, including the former owners of the golf club. At some point after the evacuation of Santa Ana Pueblo, the Standing Stones appeared in their current location, unnoticed by anyone despite the heavy military presence and regular patrols of the area, and despite the amount of effort such a project would entail. The stones, though tall and relatively slender, are still estimated to weigh several hundred pounds each -- not something that could be loaded, unloaded, and placed by a single person working by hand alone.

The hundred or so families who make Santa Ana Pueblo their home give the Standing Stones a wide berth, citing weirdly colored lights that appear close to the ground around them and occasionally in the sky above, strange disembodied sounds, and a deep thrumming hum that periodically rises from the area. These phenomena have appeared on official reports from area law enforcement and also on official notices issued from the Albuquerque Exclusion Area’s patrol base. Perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, most of these phenomena have been observed around the anniversary of the Battle of Albuquerque on August 13th.

If you want to try to catch the weirdness in action, make certain you’re prepared to handle high desert summer weather and get your permissions in order accordingly. The former grounds of Santa Ana Golf Course are private property posted against trespass and the area is periodically patrolled by both the US military and tribal coalition police.

“Tonight’s the night, everybody. August the thirteenth. The anniversary of the Battle of Albuquerque. It’s taken months to get my uncle to trust me enough to go out on perimeter patrol but this is our pay off.” Cody Peshlakai lowered his voice, dramatically, because there was no real danger of being heard, to hype up the audience watching his live HollaGram stream. “Tonight I will investigate the Standing Stones and tonight you will be with me.”

He flashed a grin and a V-for-victory sign into his camera then clipped it to the stabilizer harness strapped around his shoulders and across his chest, one more piece of survival equipment among the molle pouches carrying the rest of his gear, no different from anyone else’s. It sat there, neatly hidden next to his cellphone and the primitive walkie talkie his uncle insisted the security crews carry, through the team muster and meeting at the pueblo ranger station, broadcasting all the while. Nobody objected when he called dibs on one of the spiffy little hybrid hover/wheels ATVs, a good chunk of the all-volunteer patrol crew being old enough to value the superior shock absorption of the service’s Jeeps and trucks. The ATV yielded a much better POV for the viewers as he jetted out across the scrubby desert hardpack on the eastern bank of the Rio Grande toward his goal: the grounds of the former Santa Ana Pueblo Golf Club.

Which was, unfortunately, on the western side of the Rio Grande.

On the way, he passed clusters of habitation: the small, self-contained farmsteads of single families, an artist’s commune, the little solar farm that served the area and its caretaker’s hacienda. He paused at each and exchanged a few words with the residents, radioed a handful of coyote sightings back to base, and continued on, the excitement churning higher and higher in his gut the closer he came to his goal, as his numbers climbed on his viewership monitor.

“So, yeah, that’s my job, stream -- I help keep my community, my friends and neighbors, safe. Sometimes that’s chasing off coyotes that are getting a little too comfortable raiding the compost bins but sometimes...sometimes it’s a lot weirder.” The remains of the old Highway 550 bridge loomed out of the twilight, crumbling concrete pilings jutting out of the shallowest, siltiest part of the river and he pulled to a halt, executing a slow pan to give the stream the best view possible. “On the other side of the river and a few miles west is what’s left of the Santa Ana Pueblo Golf Club. It used to be a world-class course, fancy-ass hotel and casino inclusive, made a lot of jobs and money for the community. All that, of course, came to an end during the Omnic Crisis.”

He revved the motivator, fired up the hoverpods to their highest yield, and skimmed across the surface of the river and up the opposite bank. A vista of devastation, stained in shades of sunset and shadow, spread out before them and the stream chat went absolutely wild. The residential neighborhoods south of 550 had been utterly flattened during the Battle of Albuquerque, hardly a brick left stacked or a wall left standing, blown all-but-flat by some incomprehensibly massive force. That, combined with the occasional blast crater and random scattering of unexploded ordnance, had discouraged resettlement so thoroughly nobody even wanted to risk putting up a solar farm. Wreckage still lay scattered as far as the eye could see and the eye could see quite a distance, even with twenty-plus years of desert scrub overgrowth blurring the harshest edges.

“Nobody really knows what happened here that day -- August thirteenth, the Battle of Albuquerque,” Cody narrated as he kicked the ATV back into motion, navigating carefully down the cracked and pitted remnants of 550 toward his goal. “Just about everybody was evacuated and the ones that stayed behind...well. Let’s just say that, when all was said and done, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale.”

The bombed-out, burned-out remnants of the old hotel-casino came into view, its parking lot still filled with the rusting hulks of abandoned vehicles. “The casino and golf course were used as a rallying and evacuation point for the nearby communities on the west bank of the Rio Grande in the days leading up to the battle. The US Army and local militia forces were massing along I-40 -- the Red Line -- and the Air Force and Air National Guard were flying refugees out by helo, the National Guard had commandeered every bus, van, and free personnel carrier they could get their hands on to get people out of harm’s way. This entire area was an absolute hive of activity, you can find video of it all over the internet.”

He paused long enough to link some of his favorites in the chat as he turned off the main road, easing the ATV along something that was once a paved maintenance access point, running roughly parallel with the river. He hit the first scraggly bits of “green,” grass genetically engineered to survive the heat and dry of a high desert summer, a few minutes later and he pulled up onto the flat, opened up his holomap, and pinged his location for the audience. “I’m here -- just south of the lower water trap which is, at this point, completely dry. Our objective is...here.” He touched the copse of cottonwood trees a mile and a half to the north. “The Standing Stones. No one knows how they got here -- they weren’t here before the battle and they weren’t here during the evacuation. But when the recovery teams swept through to see what, if anything, had survived...there they were.”

He gunned the motivator, turned the headlights up to maximum, and muted the call trying to come in from his uncle, likely demanding where the Hell he was. Oh, he was getting fired for this. So very, very fired. But very soon that wouldn’t matter, because after tonight his career was going elsewhere.

The stream picked up every jounce and bounce as he skimmed over ruts and bits of wreckage flung miles from their origins, swerved around scrub becoming less and less scrubby as he went and the wild descendants of decorative plants that had somehow survived despite it all. The cottonwood stand was still the tallest thing around and he slowed as it came into view. “My plan is to set up motion-activated cameras in a perimeter around the Standing Stones and several inside the circle of the Stones, as well, along with a super-sensitive microphone pickup and electromagnetic monitoring equipment. If something happens tonight, we’ll see and hear it.”

He stopped as the ATV’s headlights washed over the trees and struck glints from the Standing Stones themselves, dark stone reflecting darkly -- and more. Cody froze, still straddling his seat. “Oh, fuck -- there’s someone else in there --”

Cody killed the headlights and the motivator and rolled off the ATV into the relative cover of the underbrush in one smoothish and only mildly panicked motion. He even managed to avoid squeaking too much as he whispered, “Chat, did you see that? Did anyone else see that?!”

Yes!

Me, too!

I saw it -- it was TALL

Dozens of messages bubbled up in the chat as his audience scrolled back and scrutinized every frame for him. For his part, he dug his brand new Panopticon binoculars out of gear bag, clipped them into place on his tactical visor, and tried to get a better look of his own, zooming in on the Standing Stones so closely he could clearly see the petroglyphs incised into their surfaces, even with the last of the light bleeding out of the sky behind them. None of the grainy-green of old school low light optics with these babies, and he scanned the area and slow and careful, looking for some hint of what he saw, something, anything --

A flicker of motion caught his eye, something moving among the Stones, mostly obscured by their mass.

“Fuck.” This...was not a complication he had considered, much less prepared for. This whole area in general and the Standing Stones very much in specific were so far out of bounds that he never imagined encountering another person out here at all much less…

On the night of the anniversary of the battle of Albuquerque.

He had to physically resist the urge to facepalm. “Chat, I...think I know what this is.” He crawled back out of the brush and hunkered down next to the ATV, tried to get a better angle on the inside of the circle. “You know how every year there’s a remembrance ceremony at the big Crisis Memorial up in Santa Fe? Well...what if I told you that some people come down to the pueblo for their own private remembrances, too? It’s the anniversary, after all. Let me see if --”

A shriek of audio distortion drilled his ear with the enthusiasm of an icepick straight to the brain and it was all he could do not to howl as he clawed his audio pickup out. “Holy fuck, what was that?”

The chat, in the corner of the heads-up display on his visor, was losing its entire fucking mind -- whatever it was, they had heard it, too, and --

A second pulse of sound, deep and resonant, punched him in the chest hard enough to make both his heart and breathing stutter, and the chat went absolutely apeshit again as it fed through to them, as well.

“You know what, Chat,” Cody said, as soon as he got enough breath back to speak, “I think I’m going to take your advice and get the Hell --”

Golden light blossomed inside the circle of the Standing Stones -- for an instant, to his eyes, it looked as though the petroglyphs themselves were lighting up, searing their patterns into his retinas with a single unwary glance. He reeled back and looked away as he clawed both the tac visor and the binoculars off his face, blinking afterimages out of his vision, the light washing out of the stone circle, over him, over everything, and --

Calm flowed over him, over him and through him, a wave of perfect serenity that stole away all his fear between one breath and the next, left him wobbling on legs made of rubber, legs that folded up underneath him and left him sprawled on his back, eyes and camera both pointed at the swiftly darkening sky, hazed in golden light. He could hear the pinging of his stream’s chat freaking out a few physical inches and a couple thousand conceptual realities away, but couldn’t bring himself to care. That sweet golden light was all he knew and that majestic bone-deep music, and he allowed himself to drift away on it, blinking away like a pinched-out candle between one breath and the next.

It was some time later that the rescue team found him, sprawled out next to the ATV, boneless, blissed out and drooling. But not, as they feared, dead.

“I told you this little moron was up to something,” Julia Tso nudged him in the ribs with the tip of one hiking boot. “He’s been streaming crap on HollaGram for months, Joseph.”

“Yeah, I know.” Joseph Peshlakai sighed and signaled the medical evac team to come in from the road. “Keep an eye on him until they get here, yeah?”

Julia rolled her eyes but nodded and Joseph crossed the remaining distance to the Standing Stones, where a golden light still pulsed among them, within them, the petroglyphs alight. He stopped outside, cleared his throat, and said, “Thank you for not killing him, Wanderer. He’s an idiot but he’s my kid brother’s favorite child.”

Youth and folly are not offenses punishable by death, my old friend. The voice echoed in his mind, warm and amused, but not less awesome because of it. Thank you, as always, for watching over them in my absence.

“My honor, Wanderer. I’m honestly a little surprised to see you this soon. It’s only been, what, five years?” Five years to the day, Joseph thought but did not say.

Yes. I...think I will be staying for a time. Not here. But close. I feel...A frisson of unease passed between them, mind to mind, a chill crawling down his spine. I feel that I will be needed, sooner rather than later.

Joseph took a deep, steadying breath and nodded. “Things have been...a little stranger than usual, I will admit. It will be good to have you back, even if only for a time.”

It will be good to be home. Farewell for now, old friend.

The golden light blinked out, and Joseph knew he was alone. The Stones faded more slowly at his back, as he walked back down the shallow rise to his lieutenant and his idiot nephew and the knowledge growing in his mind that things were going to get worse before they got better.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

“SHOULD I TRY?”

Gilly Lopez x Reader

Serie Index. Chapter 5.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW 'cause maybe has a little of explicit violence.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. The gif isn’t mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 ​ @chibsytelford ​ @dazzledamazon ​ @mara-mpou ​ @sammskellington ​ @gemini0410 ​ @1-800-imagines ​ @briana-mishell24 ​ @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @losolvidad0s ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Something unexpected hits your nape hard, making you fall to the floor bumping it with your head. All you feel is pain shaking your body with your eyes filled with tears. You want to fight, you want to get up, but the coup have get you knock out. Your eyelids are falling till the darkness envelops you and the last face you can see is Gilly's. 

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Your breath is calmed, starting to feel somewhat awake with the throat dried and a metallic taste between your teeth. You cough moving your head slight, opening your eyes slowly. The grief is back shaking your body with little lashes. Everything is blurred, trying to focus your gaze and find out where you are. But everything you can know is that your hands are tied, finding it when you're about to rub your forehead. You look at both wrist, with black esparto ropes wrapping them on a rusted headboard. Wooden walls around you, furniture full of cobwebs. There's also a skylight at the end of the room, on the ceiling, almost covered by a dirty blanket. You don't have to be so smart to know that you're in an attic. But, where?

Your pulse accelerates when you're able to hear some heavy steps going upstairs, opening the door with a screeching sound too annoying for your ears. Then, you see him. Carrying on his lips the same smile that one day made you fall in love loudly. You can't believe this is truly happening. Every single inch of your body contracts in tension, feeling the rage running through your veins when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You want to hit him, but then you also figure out that your ankles are tied too.

“This is the part when you beg for your life”. He says with a jocular tone in his voice.

And when he thinks you're about to reply something, you spit his face. Bad move. The man slaps you with the back of his hand, breaking your lower lip by the left side because of the impact his ring makes on it.

“My brother will cut you into pieces to feed his dogs”. You chuckles, 'cause even if you're terrified, you're not going to show him.

“My back is well covered, mi amor”. He laughs loud, shaking his head for a second. “And you're gonna pay for betraying me”.

His right fist goes straight to your temple, provoking you an incessant and painful buzz till you finally lose the conscience again.

(Meanwhile at Mayans Clubhouse)

“We will find her”. Marcos says full of anger, narrowing Gilly's shoulder trying to stay calm.

“Is there any place he could go?”

“We asked to the cops of Tijuana. That son of a bitch has a property close to the east border, between the mountains”. José runs to the crew, with a record on his hand with all the information he received from Mexico.

“Let's fuck up that cabrón”. Angel says throwing away his cigar to get ready to ride his bike.

Gilly went this morning to bring you some breakfast and spend your day off together, but when he came to your house Alex told him that you went to throw the trash and she never came back. Your house-mates thought that you went to Gilly's house. Of course, he suspected that something was wrong, walking next to the trash cubes, finding there your keys. The first thing he did was call Bishop.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Mayans and Coyotes aren't stupid. The play smart leaving the bikes almost half a kilometer away, to not call the attention with the roar of his engines. They're all carrying different weapons. Shotguns, smalls hand guns, knives, even an AK-47 Marcus gave them. Dressing with dark clothes and bulletproofs vests, the bikers are more than ready to storm the house. Their steps become slow, hiding between the woods to have a look of the rustic house in the middle of nowhere, with a sport car parking next to the porch. Bishop looks at Marcos, who is rolling his eyes 'cause he knows how foreseeable he can be. That's why they never accepted in Los Coyotes de Tijuana.

Gilly wants to take the first step, but Coco stops him. If he goes inside first, everything could go wrong. Miguel walks bent over towards the windows having a quick look, to indicate that no one's on the first floor. Everything clean. 

“Jorge, Tano, back yard” Marcos whispers then. “Mayans, with me”.

“Gilly and Tranq, you stay here, watching if someone else is coming”. Bishop indicates.

“You're gonna have to put a bullet between my eyebro', if you want me to stay here, man”. Gilly says pushing his chest, before getting up to walk outside the woods following his brother-in-law.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

“Despierta, mi amor”. 

A cascade of cold water falls into your face and your mouth, making you drown for a while coughing with some difficulties, shaking your head and stirring your whole body. Your temple still hurting, as your wrists and ankles with the ties pressing and burning slightly your skin with every move, trying to get free. You can see Antonio leaving the empty glass of water on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your chin with two fingers.

“I know you still love me, but your dear Marquitos turned you against me”.

“He did nothen' and I don' love you anymore, you fuckin' bastard”. You spit him again, without worrying about the fact the he can hit you another time. But he laughs, so loud that terrifies you more than the silence.

“You just had to learn how to love me properly”.

“How? Ah? Punching me till almost kill me? You're fuckin' sick, Antonio. And you're gonna pay for all of this”. 

“When your new friends find this place, we will be so, so, so far away, mi amor”. He says then, caressing your swollen cheek with the back of his fingers. “And you will also carrying my child”.

“The fuc' are you talking 'bout?” You try hard to not show the tremble that shakes your voice.

“Sh... Relax, mi niña. You're gonna enjoy, for the old times”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

“House clean!” Coco yells, being reunited with both crews at the hall.

“Shit!” Alejandro curses exhausted.

“Where the fuck he can be?” Taza asks facing Marcos with somewhat calm.

“I don' know... Did you register the car?”

“It's clean too, presidente”. José says shrugging with a gun in his hand.

“Another house, another property?” Bishop asks then desperate, trying to figure it out.

“I think... (Y/N) said something about... a cabin close to Mexico, the night at the hospital”. Jaime is trying to remember your words, not knowing of who could be the owner. 

“What about Sancho?” Alejandro turns to Marcos.

“Who's Sancho?” Gilly takes another step closer to the mexican charter.

“His boss. That perro has somewhat like a house in surroundings Mexico DF”.

“How much time?”

“Two and a half. Maybe two hours if we're fast enough”.

“Then run for her fuckin' life!” Gilly shouts, keeping his gun behind his back.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

The tears are falling down running your cheeks and your neck. You can feel the stabbing pain in your low belly because of his bites, dragging his teeth over your skin wetting it. He didn't touch you yet, he's enjoying torturing you and laughing at your terrified gestures and your begs to him for stop. You claimed for help, believing that someone could hear you, but nobody came. 

Antonio pulls down your pajama shorts, licking his lips with burning lust inside his orbs. He's ready to enjoy your body, even if you're praying him to not hurt you, trying to gain some time with the hope you can break free somehow as your brother taught you, when you were younger. Maybe dislocating your thumb, so you can strain a hand by the tie. Painful, but successful.

“I could never get tired of your body, mi amor”. 

He sighs placing himself between your legs, arching your back when he surrounds your waist with both arms. You can feel how hard is he, turning your stomach, making you want to vomit. You can't understand why you fell in love so loud with him, or why the hell you felt so lost without him the first months in Santo Padre. Now you see it. You were blind. He made you think you never could be good enough for anyone. Neither your family, nor your friends. He absorbed you in a toxic loop, romanticizing every punch, every hit, every drop of spilled blood, every bruise. But then, you met Gilly. You met the love, the self-care, the laughs for nothing, the warm his hugs bring you, the hours in silence looking at each other, the dearly smiles, how good it's feels smell your shirt and find his scent. 

And you know it's time to fight. For him. For your family. For your friends. For new life. For you.

For him, it's an unexpected scream full of pain. It hurt much more than you expected, feeling the agony running through your forearm up your elbow, flowing into your neck. But before he can reacts, your fist goes to his nose, with a soft crunch behind your knuckles. You have broken it. You know it's one of his weak points, after take so much cocaine that it made him a hole inside the bridge. That gives you some seconds, enough to take the empty glass of water to broke it against the floor and use a piece to cut the tie wrapping the other wrist. He gets up with the shirt soaked in blood as his lips and neck, and you can see he's furious, but you're not gonna give up pointing him with the glass.

“Cuando el coyote predica, no están seguras las gallinas”. (When the coyote preaches, the chicken aren't safe). You say, spitting every word, listening a high-pitch howl coming closer. You know it well, so he does. “Run, chicken, run”.

As he did two years ago, challenging your gaze with the difference that you're not drowning in your own blood but in pain and tears, he runs away. Antonio knows well what Marcos will do to him. But he doesn't know how much you have changed, and that your brother will be the less important problem. You hear him going downstair, giving him some seconds of advantage. Cutting the other ties, and placing on well your thumb with a crack and a growl, you stretch your numb legs and your arms. 

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” You can hear your brother's voice breaking the wooden front door, before some shoots and screams of pain.

The prey has been hunted after all this time hiding.

“(Y/N)! Where are you?!” Then you hear Bishop's.

You're trying to go down every stair step, supporting your weight over your palms in the railing. You find yourself crying. But you're not sure why. Pain, horror, sadness, but also happiness, relief, alleviation, run through your veins and your mind making you feel confused.

“Baby! Say something! Where are you?” Gilly is there. Your shaky legs fail, falling apart over the stairs, having a sit whilst your cry gets louder, enough to listen a lot of heavy steps coming to you. “(Y/N)!”

He runs towards you going upstairs, kneeling in front of you before hugging your body between his strongs and warm arms. And the world get paralyzed. You're at home, even if it's not your house, nor even your town. But it's him. It's all about Gilly. 

“The kid is here! We foun’ he’!” Coco shouts to the rest, from the beginning of the stairs.

“Give them a moment, now she's safe”. Alejandro says, pushing him away to the living room where they caught Antonio.

You need your time to wrap his back, feeling that your arms doesn't reply to any move tired of being in the same position for more than eighteen hours. He's trying to comfort you with gently caresses all over your head and back, sinking your face on his neck. You know he's blaming himself about what you said, about that you were scared that he could find you if the Coyotes traveled to Santo Padre. But at least, you caught him and he's gonna pay for all the pain he provoked you.

“Are you hurt?” He asks almost in a whisper, pulling you some inches away inspecting your face, with the desperation consuming his soul.

“I love you”. You answers, still drowning in your own salty tears, licking your lips. He laughs bittersweet, before helping you to get up, raising you on his arms. 

“You’re safe now, baby”. He mutter in your ear, resting your face on his chest.

“She will do it”. Marcos talks whilst Alejandro is nodding drawing a silver dagger, when the Mayan comes to the living room supporting you.

No one says nothing, while Gilly is helping you to put yourself on your feet. They’re kinda sleepy, but without letting go one of his hands, you raise the free one to the knife with a cross engraved on it. The both prospect of the charters are holding Antonio’s arms, kneeling above the wooden floor with his gaze filled by wrath. 

“Listen, if you don’t wanna do’et…” Bishop walks towards you, twisting his face, so only you can hear him.

“This is my job”. You deny with a scratchy tone in your voice. “This is what I used to do, and this is what I’m gonna do”.

Setting yourself free, you bend next to the man who tried to ruin your life and almost killed you. There’s no expression on your countenance, but he’s starting to look scared. Ripping off his shirt, pulling away both apertures and gently sticking the tip of the sharp knife into his chest, enough to draw a shallow slit to write the name of your charter on it. Yes, maybe you’re enjoying every shout wrapped in grief, while Antonio stirs under the grip. Mayans must be freaking out behind you, because your family have seen you so many times dealing with this kind of situations that they don’t even get surprised. 

“You wi—”

“I will nothen’!” You yell at him, hitting his mouth with your left elbow to make him shut up. “I told you that night, when the blood collected in my throat. One day I would find you and I would make you pay for every tear, for every bruise, for every time you raped me, for every time you hit me for no reason. And now, here comes judgment day, pinche perro”.

You’re feeling strong than never, maybe because of the adrenaline invading every inch of your anatomy, dragging every word you spit above your tongue. And his blood splashes your face, your neck and your shirt, when the dagger blade pierces his skin ripping it completely. A guttural growl comes out from his throat when your hand falls down holding the knife, cutting his chest till you reach the belt on his jeans. The blood bathes the carpet, taking away his last breaths while the prospect letting him go, making Antonio drop half dead. 

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Your back is against the wall, sitting on one of the bed of the Mayans clubhouse, in the last room. You have been alone for the past three hours, after convincing your brother to come back to Tijuana. He wasn’t in accordance with your decision, but the fault wasn’t theirs. And you were calm because of that man was already dead. Although your mind was remembering everything that happened once and again, you knew that night you could finally sleep peaceful.

Bishop comes to the room, closing the door after his steps, sitting on the edge of the bed with some distance between both. He isn’t the Rey de los Mayas because of his age, but because of his intelligence. And you played smart when you told him you never were an active member. But you don’t need it, if you're somekind of nomad or hired assassin. 

“You ok?”

You nod slightly, raising your eyes at him.

“So… That was your job, rai’?”

You nod again. No words needed.

“Was it one of the reasons why he did all that to you?”

“He did it ‘cause my brother never wanted him to be part of Los Coyotes. Taking me to hell and teaching me that it was the only life I could have, it was the way to be close to them”.

Bishop puts his gaze away, having a deep breath by his nose, to let go the air by his lips.

“Gilly blames himself”.

“I know, but it’s not his fault, nor yours, nor anyone. I allowed Antonio to do it, it’s only because of me”.

“He wanna see ya’”. 

You nod a third time, in silence, letting know that you want to see him too. The president gets up of his seat, walking towards the door to let him cross it, leaving you two alone. He doesn’t know what say to make you feel better, or to make you feel safe. Without knowing, that you are already feeling this way. This was like another job, with the difference that you killed the man who pushed you to the limit of your capacities. Your knees are placed against your chest, surrounding them with both arms, when he takes the same seat Bishop had. His head down, his forearms supported on his lap and both hands on his nape. Gilly sets free a heavy snort with closed eyes, without moving an inch when you hug him laying your chest on his back, surrounding his neck.

“I’m so sorry ‘you have to see me doin’et”. You whisper leaving some kisses on his head. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened in the last weeks. I just… turned your world upside down”.

“You stabilized it”. He replies shaking his chin, turning to look at you. “I should listened you, and I di—”.

“Take me home, Gilly”. You ask him, making the reference to his house and the safe-place you two built there.

[tamorasky]

Mistress Anna Chapter 24

Rating: M

Summary: It wasn’t uncommon for the women to be eventually cast aside, Anna was just naive enough to believe it would never happen to her.

Relationships: Anna/Kristoff

Words: 4,995

Canadian Frontier Au.

AO3

Masterlist

Anna has never felt so safe in her life as she does standing by the river in Kristoff’s arm. He breaks the kiss between the two of them, Anna staring up at him as she smiles once more. He returns the gesture, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He whispers, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her ribbon skirt. Anna giggles, resting her hands on his chest to run her fingers against his shirt's embroidery.

“Me either.” Anna responds. “I nearly expect our families to be waiting on the riverbank for us. I have a feeling our sisters are already planning our marriage.”

Kristoff chuckles, shaking his head as he envelopes Anna into his arms, her head resting against his chest. She inhales deeply, the scent of cedarwood and sweat overtaking her senses, burying her face into his shirt, not wanting this to end.

“Anna.” Kristoff looks down at the woman in his arms. She rests her chin on his chest, peering up the man questioningly. “For the moment being I’d like to keep this…between the two of us.”  

Anna nods in agreement, wanting to keep the nature of their new relationship quiet from their families as well. Knowing the meddling from both sides would only further complicate both of their predicaments.

“Agreed. But I am telling Elsa you stole that bottle of whiskey.” The couple look to the earth to the broken bottle, the shards of glass shining in the light of the setting sun.

“Shit.” Kristoff curses. Anna isn’t sure if it because he knows Elsa will likely blame him or if it is due to them wasting perfectly good whiskey.

Anna’s ears perk up, listening intently as she hears a little girl’s voice carry through the river lot. She isn’t sure if it is real, or a figment of her imagination trying to pull her away from this.

Kristoff chuckles, shaking his head, withdrawing from the young woman. “I think there is someone more important who needs you.”

She nods, unable to deny Eliza yelling from the cabin any longer. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will.” Kristoff confirms, smiling at the woman before him.

“Goodnight.” Anna smiles, folding her hands in front of her body as she turns away from him.

“Goodnight.” He responds, watching the woman he loves walk away. Unable to help herself, Anna spins on her heel to race back toward Kristoff. Throwing her arms around his neck as she crushes her lips to his. Enjoying the sensation as the blonde man wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her from the ground, something he hadn’t done since Anna had left for Arendelle. Anna pushes away from Kristoff as he sets her down. With a sigh, the auburn-haired woman places a hand to his chest, resisting the urge to remain any longer. Reluctantly, Anna withdraws from him once more, not saying another word, afraid that she wouldn’t leave if she does.

She ascends the riverbank, her smile never wavering as she approaches the cabin, where Eliza stands on the porch.

“Mama!” She calls loudly from the veranda, reaching out for Anna as she approaches the house. Anna picks up her skirt, running towards her daughter. Lifting the toddler as she reaches the cabin and presses a kiss to Eliza’s chubby cheek gleefully.

“Let us get you back to bed.” Anna comments, walking through the front door. She dresses Eliza and herself for the night, thoughts of Kristoff consuming her every waking thought as she secures ribbons in her daughter’s hair for the night.

Eliza sits on Anna’s lap, babbling nonsense as her mother unties the ribbons secured in her auburn hair on the porch. Anna hums in response to her daughter’s strung together words as she focuses on brushing Eliza’s hair.

Anna cannot believe how much Eliza has grown in the past two years. Smiling, Anna places the brush on the porch, wrapping her arms around her daughter as she presses her nose into Eliza’s hair. Angelique had been right; she doesn’t smell the same as she did as a baby, but Anna still loved the way the toddler smells.

It had been two years since she had given birth, surrounded by unfamiliar people, barking orders at her. On her birthing bed, Anna never imagined Ahtohallan would be where she and Eliza would return to. Two years ago, she hadn’t ever expected to see Kristoff again. But yet, here she has been in his embrace for the week, stealing away to be with one another in every moment they can.

A smile crosses her features as a familiar figure walks up the property, meandering towards the cabin with his hands tucked into his trouser pockets. Anna winces as Eliza shrieks loudly, thrashing out of her mother’s arms as the toddler stands. She watches as Eliza clambers down the steps of the porch.

Eliza races as fast her legs can carry her towards Kristoff, her arms outstretched to him. Anna smiles as Kristoff hurries forward, picking the toddler up by her armpits. Eliza giggles as he raises her in the air, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. Kristoff smiles as he perches the little girl on his hip, making his way towards Anna.

As he comes to stand in front of the young woman, Kristoff brushes his hand against her bare knee, smiling down at Anna.

“We were not expecting you until later this evening.” She comments as Kristoff places Eliza on the porch, holding her hands as the toddler bounces her knees.

“I know, but I thought I should come to see you two before dinner tonight. Then I get some time with her before my family bombards you two.” Kristoff explains. Brows knitting together, Anna notices Kristoff reaching into his pocket. She pulls Eliza back onto her lap as Kristoff pulls an object out of his pocket, handing the item to the toddler.

Eliza grabs the present from the young man without any hesitance, as she usually would display when offered something from someone who isn’t her mother or auntie. Anna looks down at the object, a wooden toy carved into a coyote.

Anna glances up from her daughter to Kristoff, smirking up at him as she slightly shakes her head at him. A coyote, a joke between the two of them and Kristoff’s nickname for Anna anytime she was feeling particularly mischievous.

Looking back down at Eliza, Anna smiles as her daughter shows her the new toy.

“How wonderful!” Anna exclaims, stroking Eliza’s cheek as the toddler’s gaze goes back to the coyote. Examining the toy, Anna can tell it is handmade by the man before them, the rough edges giving it away as being made by Kristoff, unlike his father’s, which were always smooth. “What do you say to your papa?”

It still feels odd referring to Kristoff as Eliza’s papa, months ago it had embarrassed Anna that Eliza continued to confuse the young man as such. Now despite still finding it odd, she had become accustomed to it.

“Thank you!” Eliza stands up from her mother’s lap, toddling to Kristoff to wrap her arms around him.

“You’re very welcome, moonface.” Kristoff chuckles, brushing his hand over her hair. His gaze meets Anna’s, a smile crossing his features as they stare at one another.

“I didn’t realize you were here, Kristoff.” Anna looks over her shoulder to see Elsa emerge from the house, her rifle in her hand.

Reminding Anna of the task that is before her today. She had never gotten used to firearms. Cliff used to hunt rabbits and other small game for her mother. It wasn’t until Elsa began to take part in buffalo hunt that rifles started to appear around the cottage.

But Elsa is insistent that she needs to learn how to shoot a rifle accurately and adequately. Something which Anna has been avoiding since her elder sister presented that idea that she should learn.

“I was walking past and saw these two on the porch, I’d thought I would say hello,” Kristoff states, posing an excuse to the older Arneson sister, who remains unaware of the nature of Anna and Kristoff’s relationship. Though it bothered Anna to keep it from her Elsa, the person who has become her closest friend since returning to Ahtohallan.

“Well,” Elsa sighs, reaching into her trouser pockets. “Your welcome to stay, I’m teaching Anna how to shoot.”

Kristoff chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest as Eliza settles herself on the porch to play with her new toy. “I am definitely staying to watch.”

Anna sticks her tongue out at the man, clearly insulted that he does not believe in her shooting abilities. Silently vowing to show him. Kristoff settles himself on the porch’s edge, pulling Eliza onto his lap as he grins at the young woman.

With a huff, Anna stands, straightening her skirt as she does so. Elsa brushes past her sister, stepping off the porch. With a sigh, Anna follows after the brunette to the edge of the river lot, far enough away from Kristoff and Eliza not to disturb the pair. But close enough that if Kristoff needed to get either of the Arneson sister’s attention, it could be quickly done.

“Alright.” Elsa sighs, tying her hair back as she hands Anna the rifle. “You stand directly across from your target.”

Anna looks up from the gun as her sister points out several glass bottles lined on tree stumps across from them. She nods, taking hold of the weapon in both hands as she listens to her sister.

“You’re going to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart.” Elsa instructs, observing as her sister takes the stance. “Your left hand should hold the forestock, and your right holds the grip.”  

As Anna readjusts her grip, Elsa repositions the auburn-haired woman’s position, ensuring the butt of the rifle is snug against her shoulder. The elder Arneson steps away from Anna, nodding to indicate that she is ready.

Shakily taking a breath, Anna’s finger brushes against the trigger of the gun, pressing it with a slight force. Her body jerks back as a loud shot rings out, missing the bottles by a wide margin.

“Try again.” Elsa smiles, trying to encourage her younger sister. Anna nods, repositioning once again to take a shot, only to miss again.

Elsa is unrelenting in her instruction, adamant that Anna will hit one of the bottles by the day’s end. By mid-day, Anna’s blouse is discarded on the earth, clad in only her chemise, finding the sun's heat and rifle nearly too much for her body to bare any longer.

Anna huffs as she reloads the weapon once more, now able to do so quickly from the monotony of the morning. She and Elsa are barely talking anymore, growingly increasingly frustrated with one another.

“I’m not doing this anymore.” Anna huffs, blowing her bangs up, frustrated with the situation.

“You are not quitting.”

“It doesn’t matter this much Els. You hunt for us.”

“You need to learn how to shoot.” Elsa states, her voice rising slightly.

“Why? Mama didn’t learn how to shoot. Why do you need me to learn so badly?” Anna asks, knowing her sister just wants a hunting companion during the winters when Honeymaren travels south.

Elsa stares at her sister, shaking her head. “Mama did not have a dangerous man looking for her.”

“Hans isn’t looking for me; he would have found me by now.” Anna’s voice lowers, not having spoken his name out loud in a long time.

“You don’t know that. It isn’t like news travel fast or reliably through this country. He may not know you are here. But in case he does find you, I can’t be around always to protect you.” Elsa sighs, looking past her sister to the porch. “And neither can Kristoff.”

Staring at her sister, Anna hadn’t considered Elsa is worried after her safety. It had been something Anna had considered, Hans finding her and Kristoff. She didn’t like to think about what would happen if he would return, knowing that Hans would have Kristoff hung and take Eliza away from her. The only thing she never considered what would happen to herself, would Hans kill her or force her back to Arendelle to be his mistress once more.

Looking down at her blistered hands, Anna nods, agreeing to continue her training further. Her arms ache as she holds the rifle, grazing a bottle with a bullet.

“Elsa.” Kristoff calls behind them. Looking over her shoulder, Anna sees Kristoff holding Eliza as he approaches closer to the sisters. “Why don’t you take Eliza in for her nap and take a break. I’ll see if I can’t help Anna with this.”

The brunette reluctantly nods, meandering towards the young man, taking her niece into her arms as she makes her way inside.

“I could use a break too.” Anna states, raising a brow at her lover. He chuckles, inching towards her.

“Hit one of the bottles first; then we can talk about a break for you.”

Anna retakes the position while huffing, her feet apart, her left hand holding the forestock and her right on the grip, her elbow pointing out as she closes one eye. Shaking his head Kristoff comes to stand behind her.

She gasps as he presses himself against her back, his hand coming to rest on her elbow to reposition it.

“You want your elbow pointed out but not so exaggerated as you have been positioning it.” His breath is hot against her neck. Anna cheeks flush, allowing Kristoff to reposition her grip on the rifle. His hands rest on her bare bicep, softly stroking the skin under his fingertips. “Keep both of your eyes open. If you close one, it decreases your perception of the situation.”

“O-okay.” She nods, failing to retain her composure with Kristoff’s hands on her body.

“Now shoot.” He instructs, still pressing against him. Anna’s finger presses against the trigger, the shot resounding in her ears as the bullet shatters a bottleneck, scattering glass to the earth’s surface.

Anna’s gaze remains fixated on the bottles before her, a smile slowly spreading across her face at her success. Kristoff chuckles lowly in her ear, enamoured of her excitement at making the shot. Her heart flutters Kristoff trails his lips along her shoulders, kissing each of her freckles as his hands caress her biceps.

Glancing over her shoulder, Anna’s nose brushes against Kristoff’s soft hair as he continues to kiss along her shoulder. She smiles at the gesture as her skin breaks out into goose-pimples. He sighs, withdrawing from her shoulders as Anna turns to face him, his hands coming to rest her waist.

Anna’s eyes dart towards the house, ensuring her sister is not lingering on the porch but inside, as she stated. Her eyes return to Kristoff’s, coyly smiling up at him as she places a hand on his chest. Kristoff leans over, capturing Anna’s lips with his own as his arm envelopes around her waist.

Closing her eyes, Anna does not notice the figure emerging from the house, standing on the porch with her hands on her hips as she takes in the young couple’s embrace. Kristoff withdraws from her, much to Anna’s dismay. He chuckles lowly as he glances towards the porch, taking a step away from her.

“It seems like we have company.” He whispers, removing his hands from her. Anna turns to see Elsa approaching them with her brow raised. Kristoff rubs the back of his neck, looking back to Anna to avoid eye contact with the elder Arneson sister.

“It sure does.” Anna giggles, reaching forward to take his hand into her own, running her thumb over his knuckles gingerly.

“I should be going.” Kristoff states, smiling at the woman’s gesture. “I’ll see you tonight.” Anna nods, a smile crosses her features as Kristoff leans over to press a chaste kiss against her cheek.

“Coward.” Anna teases as she lets go of Kristoff’s hand.

He rolls his eyes at the young woman. “I’m not a coward, I’m just not in the mood to deal with Elsa and a gun at the present moment.”

As Kristoff smiles at her, Anna giggles. Kristoff stalks away from her without another word and giving Elsa a polite nod as he makes his way off the property. Glancing down at the rifle in her hand, Anna turns back towards the bottles.

Leaning over, she grabs a bullet and the cloth lying on the ground next to her. Anna lays the fabric across, fitting the lead ball on the barrel of the rifle. Placing the butt of the gun against the ground, she pulls the ramrod attached to the barrel's bottom. She pushes the ball and powder down to the bottom of the barrel.

Anna glances up at Elsa, standing in front of her, scrutinizing her sister’s actions as she loads the flintlock rifle. The brunette’s arms are crossed over her chest, her brow still raised.

“You know,” Elsa begins with a sigh. “You two are going to have to be more discreet at supper tonight.”

“I know.” Anna nods.

“How long has this been going on between you two?” Elsa asks her brow falling, as the corners of her mouth quirk up. Anna’s face flushes, glancing down at the ground briefly.

“About a week,” Anna discloses, feeling as if she is 17 years old once more; a giddiness she has not felt towards a man since the night she met Hans overcoming her emotions. “When he walked me home from the church on St. Joseph’s Day. We shared a bottle of whiskey by the river.”

Elsa’s brows knit together, her gaze falling to the ground as she mutters. “I knew I was missing a bottle of whiskey.”

Anna’s smile slips as she bites her bottom lip, her fingers nervously brushing against the gun's metal. “Are you mad?”

Anxiety replaces Anna’s giddiness as she recalls Elsa’s reaction to the news of Anna’s intent to stay with Hans in Arendelle. Anna remembers how her sister’s face soured and scoffed in disbelief. After that, they barely spoke for a full year.

With a shaky breath, the auburn-haired woman peers up at Elsa. Her heart is hammering in her chest at her sister’s unreadable expression.

Elsa sighs, taking a step towards Anna. “About the whiskey? Yes. But, I’m glad you’re happy, Anna.”

“Els…” Anna feels a familiar tingle in the bridge of her nose. “I really am.”

“He is a good man,” Elsa smiles at her sister, wrapping an arm around Anna’s shoulders. The brunette pats Anna with a sigh. “Alright, shoot.”

Anna huffs, rolling her eyes as her hands come to rest on the forestock and the grip, her feet shoulder-width apart as she takes the shot, the lead ball hitting a bottle. She looks to Elsa as the glass shatters, a smile coming to her face as Elsa nods with approval.

“You’re getting there.” Elsa comments. Anna looks back towards the targets, pride swelling in her chest as she repositions herself to take another shot.

Eliza’s giggles resound through the bush later that afternoon, squatting over to pick a wildflower from the ground as her mother taught her. Anna smiles as she watches her daughter, picking a wild rose from its bush, her skirt becoming wet as it presses against the greenery.

She places the flower into the basket, reminding herself to remove the ants and various bugs from the flowers before bringing them into the house.

“Mama.” Eliza calls as she walks towards Anna, a flower in her outstretched hand. The young woman lowers the basket, allowing the toddler to place her flower amongst the others.

“Thank you, baby.” Anna says, watching as Eliza walks away from her towards the foxtails to pick them. Scanning the forest floor, Anna spots orange flowers amongst the green, she kneels to the ground to pull the prairie lilies.

“Mademoiselle Arneson,” A voice calls from the road, breaking Anna away from the task before her. Resting her hands on her lap, she looks over her shoulder to see Madaam Brissette standing on the side of the road.

The middle-aged woman wears a clean silk light blue dress, decorated with pink rosettes. It reminds her of the one Hans’ new wife wore when she arrived in Arendelle. The hat Madaam Esther Brissette wears is unique, something which irks Anna. It is no secret the Brissette family is wealthy in the community. It is widely known in Ahtohallan that Pierre Brissette made the majority of his money by trapping and selling furs to Americans illegally, and then some by marrying a white woman, Marie, from Montreal before bringing her back to Rupert’s Land. The very woman who stood before Anna now.  

Anna stands from the ground with some struggle, her knees clicking as she straightens them. “Boon matayn Madaam.”

Good Morning.

“Good Morning, Mademoiselle Arneson.” The light-haired woman responds, remaining on the road as she converses with Anna. It always soured Anna’s mood whenever the older woman refused to speak Michif; instead, she uses English or French, never adapting to their way of living.

“What can I help you with?” Anna inquires, not moving from her place. Madaam Brissette looks around, clearing her throat as she picks up the skirt of her dress as she steps onto the grass.

“Your Eliza is growing quite fast.” The woman comments, smiling politely at the auburn-haired woman.

“She is. It seems every time I blink, she grows some more.”

“How wonderful for you. I see that Bulda’s adopted child has a vested interest in your daughter.” Madaam Brissette comments, folding her hands in front of her.

Anna’s smile drops, an uneasy feeling overtaking the young woman. “Kristoff has been very kind to us.”

“And what a relief that is,” The woman reaches out to Anna, placing her hand on Anna’s forearm. “I have to admit, I was worried about you and your family’s reputation when I heard you left Eliza’s father. Afterall a child should never grow up without their father.”

Anna clears her throat, glancing down at her boots briefly before meeting Madaam Brissette’s gaze once more. Swallowing her pride, Anna smiles. “I appreciate the concern.”

“I’m just doing my duty as a Christian woman. But the other night when I saw Mr. Bjorgman’s interest and the way you two stared after one another.” The woman sighs. “I just have to say it is such a relief that you have a potential beau for you and the devotion he already shows toward little Eliza; it is just so sweet. Besides, if you two marry, I’m sure your sister will be thrilled to see more of Eliza.”

“Well, my sister sees Eliza every day.” Anna states, her brows knitting together in confusion.

“Yes, she does. But I mean, if you were to marry the Bjorgman boy, I highly doubt that he will want a child sired by another man under his roof.” The older woman comments, removing her hand from Anna.

“Kristoff loves Eliza.” Anna states, her hands settling at her sides as her fingers brush against her skirt's linen. She tries her best to keep her temper in check, something she had gotten used to since living with Hans.

“Oh. I know, just seeing how he acts around Eliza warms everyone’s heart. But well…you know how it goes.” The blonde woman sighs.

“No, I don’t believe I do.” Anna’s eyes narrow towards the woman, who reminded her so much of those women in Arendelle.

The woman sighs. “I mean, while you two don’t have your own children at the present moment. Sure, he showers her with affection, but once you two have your children, that will change. Eliza will no doubt be sent away to school in the East or to live with you sister, while you two live in your family home and start a new family.”

Anna’s nostrils begin to flare, her jaw clenching as the other woman continues to talk. She knew of instances where this happened, Genevieve Larose had been in a country marriage with a man in Fort Carlton who left for London and never returned to Rupert’s Land. Their union produced two boys, who now live with their Koohkum and Mooshum since her marriage to a Metis man in Cumberland House.

She would never give up Eliza.

“Well, then I guess it is fortunate I have no plans on marrying in the foreseeable future.” Anna states, “I should get back to my daughter. Good day.”

She turns from Madaam Brissette without another word, not allowing her to have the last word. Smiling as she approaches Eliza, who is crouched by a prairie dog hole, waiting for the critters to emerge.

“Hi baby.” She greets as she kneels behind Eliza, pulling the toddler onto her lap. Pressing kisses into Eliza’s hair, Anna holds onto her daughter as if she could disappear from her at any moment. She rests her cheek against Eliza’s hair, trying to fight back the tears forming in her eyes. Somewhere in her rationale Anna knows Kristoff would never send Eliza away from her, he is devoted to raising the toddler as much as Anna is. But yet, deep within her Anna wonders if there is some truth in the other woman’s words.

She doesn’t say anything to him throughout dinner, smiling politely when he brushes her knee under the table, though it breaks her heart to smile at him and pretend as nothing is the matter with her. Everyone disperses once Anna puts Eliza to bed, refusing Kristoff’s help to put her daughter to rest.

She wanders down towards the river as Elsa occupies Kristoff’s attention with a new trapping line. Wrapping her arms around herself, Anna glances around the riverbank. Recalling how only one week ago, they stood on this very ground, wrapped up in one another’s embrace.

Her ears perk up as she hears heavy footsteps behind her, two arms wrap around her waist, her back pressing against his chest. Kristoff presses a kiss to her neck, then to her cheek.

“Is everything alright?” He asks quietly. Reluctantly Anna turns in his arms, pressing her lips against his once more. She inhales, taking in the scent of cedarwood, savouring the way his body felt under her hand.

She shakes her head, placing it against his chest. “I can’t do this.”

“Anna…” Kristoff pulls away from her, trying to get a better look at her face. His hands cupping her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. Tears pooling in her eyes as she continues to shake her head. “Baby…hey, it’s okay.”

“I need to think of Eliza first and foremost.” Anna states, removing his hands from her as she steps away from him. Kristoff stares at her, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“I know.” He nods, taking her hands into his once more. Anna looks down at their intertwined hands, squeezing his much larger ones.

“She is my whole life, and I need to know if you are fully prepared to understand that.” She meets his gaze once more. His eyes flicker across her face, concern occupying them.

“I understand.” He nods, removing his hand from hers to cup her cheek once more. His thumb brushes against her cheek, wiping away a tear falling down her cheek.

“She isn’t…” Anna captures her lower lip between her teeth to stop it from trembling. With a sigh, she blurts, “She isn’t your daughter.” Her statement isn’t accusatory or angry, more matter of factly as if she is reminding him and herself of the truth.

Kristoff nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as he soothes back the auburn curls. “It makes no difference to me, Anna. I love her despite not being my blood. She is my daughter in every way.”

“Kristoff…what if we were to have a child together. Then what?” Anna peers up at him with wide eyes.

“What do you mean by ‘then what’? We’ll raise our children.” Kristoff states. Anna fights back the urge to smile at his use of children and not child. For a moment, she knows she may be acting silly, allowing Madaam Brissette’s words to get to her. Anna nods prepared to tell Kristoff of her foolishness but stops herself as she thinks of the reality of the situation.

They would not raise their children together; there would be no children between them as there would be no future or marriage. She steps away from him, out of reach from his arms.

“You can’t stay, though.” Anna states, folding her hands in front of her.

Kristoff sighs, looking at his feet. Reluctantly the young man nods. “I can’t. I-I need to tell you now. I have plans to leave before the first snowfall this year. It’s not safe for me to remain any longer.”

It has been something they both avoided discussing, wanting to enjoy their time together as much as possible.

“It’s for the best.” She wipes away, her tears falling down her cheeks. Anna hopes he won’t ask for her to come with, she wouldn’t leave Ahtohallan for a man again. It wouldn’t be fair to Elsa. But he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes meet her own.

Kristoff chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “I love you, Anna.”

Anna can’t stop the tears in her eyes from falling at his declaration, turning away from him without another word or kiss. Ascending the riverbank, she wipes away the tears with her palm, her chest aching with every breath she takes.

As she composes herself outside of the house, Anna curses their situation. Wishing she had never left Ahtohallan for a man who never once declared his love for her. Knowing that if she had only stayed, Anna could have given herself to Kristoff with no hesitance or complication.

Notes: I'M SORRY! I'LL FIX IT I PROMISE!I

Initially was going to leave this out but unfortunately, there is a major plot point that kinda revolves around their deciding to end things between them. also, it is me I have to throw in a little angst before letting them be happy for a little while.

I apologize for the not great editing, my editor was out this weekend. I edited once while being tipsy and early this morning so I apologize so much. I'm a little worried that the dialogue between Anna/Kristoff at the end flows well.

[goat-yells-at-everything]

Because this asshole decided to spew a bunch of absolutly WRONG information and then blocked me so I couldn’t reply, we’re gonna do it here because its so fucking WRONG that it needs to be fucking corrected.

This statement was clearly not about people who hunt or people who live in areas where they need protection from wildlife such as polar bears.

My statement was about using guns against people. About every idiot being allowed to own a gun.

And if you think that carrying a gun is helping anyone, then lemme ask you some questions too:

You think it’s free speech that kids shoot themselves on accident when parents are leaving guns out?

Think it’s free speech that kids shoot up schools?

Sure, gun for self-protection sounds very nice. Until you use your brain and discover that other people are also allowed to carry guns. What are you gonna do when the people come into your house carrying more than just a knife?

What about the people who suffer at the hands of guns?

Fucking kids.

Is that free speech? Is that necessary?

There are other ways to protect yourself. Non lethal.

Most areas you’re not even properly background checked. Three days for a licence?

Yea, in trained hands a gun is lethal. That is not a good thing.

Free speech? Don’t make me laugh. Guns don’t protect your free speech. KKK is walking through the streets like a fuckin carnival parade and screaming free speech. And they can carry guns. And they will use them. Is that what your free speech is? Or is it teens shooting themselves in the head? Shooting their bullies? Vigilantes? Kids who think guns are toys. Police who have an excuse to shoot kids because they’re apparently carrying a gun?

The threshold is so low.

And yes, i live in a place where it’s fucking dangerous. And i know other people aren’t allowed to carry guns so why would i need one? I’m not afraid of using a knife if i should ever feel the need to kill. At least then, it’s personal and i know I’m fully responsible.

1) 

As someone who lives in a country with gun control, never in my life have i ever needed a gun.

I have never even felt the need to have a gun.

Ya’ll just brainwashed js

This was NOT in response to people who hunt. At least, it sure as hell wasn’t OBVIOUS. Also, polar bears? You know there are other dangerous animals out there, right? Dangerous animals that exist ALL OVER THE WORLD, even in your own back yard. As I noted before, large bears (aka black and brown bears are SUPER common), large deer (the one my uncle shot while protecting their goats was a record setter in my area. it was HUGE), foxes and coyotes may not seem like a huge threat but they ARE and you show your ignorance of wildlife when you dismiss them. Other than that you have mountain lions, wolves, moose, venomous/aggressive/HUGE snakes (I have pictures of a 6 foot rat snake my uncle had to kill on their property cuse it was eating their chicken eggs and was a threat to the baby goats), wild pigs, large reptiles, large birds (most moderate to large predatory birds can take off with a chicken at least and even a baby goat. not to mention how easy it is to take off with a small to medium sized dog).

2) Humans ARE a threat. Period. No, its not good to go around seeing every single stranger as an imminent threat but they CAN pose a threat. Wanting to protect yourself is not wrong.

3) How the HELL do you go from me saying “a well armed public is essential to the protection of freedom of speech” to you accusing me of thinking shooting a CHILD is free speech?! I gave you very clear examples of what I meant. A dude in Scotland was arrested for making a joke on the internet and had his life thrown into chaos for 2 years. Its been 4 or 5 years since the incident and he STILL has problems just finding a JOB not to mention the death threats he still gets that the cops dont give a shit about. A woman in Britain was arrested in front of her daughters and held for 7 HOURS, unable to call anyone to check on her young children, all because she offended someone on twitter. Police in the UK have cited people for carrying a fucking SPOON on their person. You have to have PERMISSION to own a STEAK KNIFE. You give up your right to defend yourself, your right to hold your government accountable for its actions, then you give up your right to freedom of speech. Its. A. Fact.

4) I live in Illinois. My state has some of the HARSHEST gun control laws in the US. We are the 4th highest in violent crime, beaten out by the likes of California and New York. Why? Gangs. Gang violence is the PRIMARY source of gun crime in the US. These people do not get guns legally. No amount of gun control will stop someone from getting a gun illegally. Why should I, a law abiding citizen, be refused the right to protect myself when someone who wants to hurt me can easily get one illegally? Why should I HAVE to defend myself with a knife when they CAN get a gun? Why cant I have the means to fight back?

5) If gun safety was taught in schools then the number of accidental deaths/injuries by guns (which are a large chunk of gun death/injury statistics) would be cut to almost nothing. Not knowing what a gun can do and how to act around them is a SERIOUS problem in the world in general, let alone in the US. Accidental deaths by guns didn’t happen often just a few generations ago because basic firearm safety was common knowledge. I SERIOUSLY suggest anyone who has an issue with guns to actually take a firearms safety class. 99% of fear of guns would be wiped away if people just KNEW about them.

6) Kids shooting up a school or killing their bullies is not the fault of guns. Its the fault of our bullshit public school system that punishes kids for standing up for themselves and belittles the harm psychological abuse does. If they cant get a gun they will use a knife. If they cant get a knife they’ll use a bomb or acid or worse.

7) Yes, actually. The KKK, Arian Brotherhood, Communists, Socialists, BLM, Black Hebrew Israelites, Nation of Islam, all of them can say whatever the fuck they want. Thats what free speech MEANS. Free speech means nothing if you are not willing to stand up for speech you do not agree with.

8) The taking of a life is already illegal. It doesn’t matter what tool the person uses. HH Holmes confessed to killing at LEAST 27 people; likely his body count was over 50; never used a gun. Jack the Ripper, 5 women no gun. Jeffrey Dahmer, 17 victims no gun. Harold Shipman, 217 deaths (likely closer to 250) no gun. Pedro Lopez, over 300 victims no gun. These people didn’t need guns to kill dozens, sometimes hundreds of people. They used other tools. Are their crimes inherently less horrible because they didn’t use guns?

9) You aren’t allowed to carry a gun. That does not mean that someone else wont. Just because there is a law saying other people shouldn’t have guns doesn’t mean they wont. People who will break one law (breaking and entering, assault, ect) dont give a damn about gun control laws. Again, taking a life or harming another person is a crime already. Criminals. Do. Not. Care. But if a rapist with a gun himself has two choices, the girl with the gun and the girl without, he’s going for the girl without.

I’m not brainwashed, as you so elegantly put it in your first reply. I’m simply pragmatic and understand the world is not filled with rainbows where everyone just goes along with the laws like happy little drones. My life is in my own hands. Its up to ME to protect myself, no one else.

[chojimaru]

@officer--dimples

First thing first. Making a new post because of how insanely long the other one is. I apologize for not replying sooner. I will attempt to be civil with you here because you obviously put a lot of work writing this.I also won’t reply to every single topic but I will try to cover what the main points are.

First we must define Assault Rifle. An Assault rifle is capable of automatic fire, uses detachable magazines, uses an intermediate cartridge, and is used in the act of assault. Assault is a verb. A comb can be an assault comb if you attack someone with it. Intermediate cartridges are rather low powered. The rounds themselves are pretty bad at killing Human sized animals because of this. The M16 when first used in the Vietnam was hated by soldiers because it would poke holes in the enemy while the M14(which used a much stronger, heavier bullet) would kill a man in 1 or 2 shots(more on this later). Automatic weapons are extremely regulated in America. More regulated than all guns in Australia and Britain and most countries you are likely to see cited for their gun crime rates. Unpaid parking tickets, unpaid child support, a pending trial, a divorce, and even being put on trial and found innocent are all possible ways to be kept from owning an Automatic weapon. Many things can result in your weapon being taken away. You must always have the physical license from the ATF with the gun at all times. You can’t have it in the car in the parking lot when you are at the gun range. The ATF can inspect your house and take it away for no reason. You must have an approved gun dealer in your will who will take possession and usually destroy the gun when you die. You must destroy the gun under certain circumstances. An AR 15 is not an assault rifle. An M4 or M16 used in combat is.

Let me explain why the AR 15 is one of the best guns for self defense.

This is 5.45 bullet that has been cut in half. It’s not the bullet commonly used in AR 15s but it operates in the same manner. It has a hollow cavity in the tip. The basic function is that this bullet travels very quickly and the tip breaks as soon as it makes contact with anything. Whether it be a wall, an animal, a human, or a tree branch that tip caves in when it makes contact and the bullets flips like a kicked American football. This decreases the energy of the projectile by a lot. This means that a 5.56 or 5.45 are the best rounds to use in neighborhoods, apartment buildings, or in homes with children around. This bullet will hit drywall and be less deadly. A 9mm pistol bullet can go through an entire house. a .30-30 bullet commonly used to hunt deer can go through multiple apartments. You could hit a home intruder and a shotgun slug can go through him and into the neighbors house.

On the topic of hunting. AR 15s chambered in .300 Blackout are the premier way to dispatch our wild boar invasion in farm lands. Pigs can destroy millions of dollars in property, crops, and livestock damage. They are an enormous problem. AR15s are needed because they are light, quick, and not too bulky so a farmer can have one in his truck and use it as soon as he sees boars. AR15s in 5.56 are great for hunting other animals like skunks, raccoons, wolves, coyotes, and rabbits to name a few.

Moving on to the topic of fear. Fear is an emotion and is therefore relative. Right now I am feeling cold. If someone in a colder area like Alaska or Norway is standing in front of a warm fire place covered in thick blankets while a blizzard rages outside does it mean it is warmer in Alaska than in Texas? Of course not, it just means I need to put some socks on. You feel safe, good for you. I do too, good for me. I am not living in fear, I am hoping for the best and preparing for the worst. I have canned goods because I once went with limited food for weeks during and after a hurricane. I drive a car with lots of safety features because I know people who died in car crashes. I brush my teeth because I know people in their 30s with dentures. I have a gun because my people were unarmed when they were murdered by their government. It’s one of the reasons my family came to this country and it’s one of the reasons those problems did not.

Regulations are great. I used the regulation that says food products need to be labeled with expiration dates today. I would have had some bad milk and been sick for hours without that. I don’t mind a government, but I do mind a lot of government. The police do not prevent crime, they arrest criminals after they have committed crimes. Look up what the average length of time it takes for police to arrive on scene in your area. The answer, no matter, what is too long. In the time it takes you for to pull out your phone, dial, the operator to respond, and the police to drive is less than it takes for a human to be beaten, kidnapped, murdered. 5 minutes may be ok if you call them because someone was spray painting a wall, but that is not ok if your friend is bleeding out. Literally in this recent case that no doubt inspired OPs post, an armed policeman stood outside of the school mere feet from the shooter and did nothing as people died. Your government does not care about you and they do not protect you. They try, but they fail too.

“Please educate me, if I get this wrong: you want to defend yourself with a gun. Why is that? Because you fear that one could attack you with the gun they are allowed to carry, right? You want a gun bc others have a gun”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUk3HEqjf8c

This is Dutch MMA fighter Alistair Overeem. He is 6′3 and in his prime was 3% body fat and weighed 280 pounds. He is famous for his ability to get knocked out in devastating fashion. He’s a good fighter despite this, but hitting him in the right spot just puts him to sleep. Him and his brother(a less skilled, less fit mma fighter who has more knockout losses than some UFC champs have fights) once beat the living shit out 5 security guards armed with clubs. The five guards needed emergency care, Allistair hurt his hand because he punched a guy in the face and cut himself with his victims teeth. In a different incident he pushed a lady and with one hand sent her flying and she was injured after hitting some poles. Would you fight this man? I know it’s a extreme, he’s bigger and more well trained than 99.99% of the world but a guy even half as big and half as skilled and with twice the ability to make a punch would you say with confidence you could fight him off? Let’s think of someone else. Do you have an elderly person in your life or a very young person? A 5 year old nephew, a 70 year old grandparent? Not to mention any disabled people in your life. Maybe even people who are currently sick with the common cold or have a stubbed toe or pregnant or dealing with period cramps right now. Do you think you could beat Allistair Overeem in a 1 to 1 fight? Do you think every single person you care about could beat him at any given moment? If a man that big and even a fraction as skilled came into your home would you be ok? Would the police respond in time? The answer is no because even if you managed to call the police before he was face to face with you he has choked people until they fainted or knocked them out in less than a minute despite them being his size, strength, nearly his level of skill, and fully prepared to fight him. On the opposite end of the spectrum, do you think you, barring any personal thoughts and restraints could stop him if he attacked you and you had a weapon whether it be a gun or a taser or pepper spray? Which would you pick? Should training martial arts, taking steroids, and lifting weights become illegal?

“Let me tell you a secret: if the other isn’t allowed to own a gun, you don’t need a gun” Allowed is the keyword. Allowed is very different than has or owns or uses. In America we are a free people. My government doesn’t allow me to do things. We allow the government to do things. We allow the government to tax us, we allow the government to operate, and we allow the government to arrest and punish people who do certain actions. You have defined what freedom means to you. That is not freedom but you are free to think that way and to desire your life be that way.

On the topic of race and countries of origin and all that let me just go on a little tangent here. My Dad’s side is white, Norwegian mostly but I have a great grandma who’s ancestors were in the original US Navy under the great John Paul Jones. The cannons on said ship were privately owned as were all the small arms. They even had a gun that shot multiple bullets in a row. It wasn’t as advanced as an M60 machine gun but it was considerably faster than a musket. These people knew inventions were coming that would do things more effectively. Whether it be better ships, better guns, or better way of communication. You believe the change of technology should effect the right to bear arms. Do you believe the government should restrict speech? Do you believe people should be incarcerate for speech? If so, what kind of speech? Do you think it would be ok if in 20 years you holding that opinion became illegal and that put you in jail?

Finally let’s talk about guns and swimming pools and cars. Swimming is a recreational activity, exercise, sport, and therapy. Cars are transportation, sport, and hobbies. Guns are also used in sports, hobbies, exercise, recreational activities, and therapy. Earlier this month a friend told me a child in her neighborhood(a three year old) fell into a swimming pool and drowned. Last year a guy in a truck ran over and killed a lot of people in London. Last week a guy with a gun killed a lot of students at a school and at that same event a policeman with a gun stood outside without confronting him. Should we attach floaties to every child? Should we outlaw trucks? Should we outlaw guns? Sorry for any spelling errors.

[frightgothcar]

2 :)

On the inside im always thinking about random and weirdly specific gray ghost au

[creativecollabcharlotte]

Week 1- Session

Carbon Neutral Copenhagen

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dXkamwNWPgg

Key points from video

- Plan to be 1st city to be carbon neutral by 2025.

- Reduced CO2 input by 40% since 2005 as a result of less use of coal as a energy source.

- Increased efficiency of old buildings by using new technology.

- 360km of cycle lanes taking up 25% of travel.

- By 2030 diesel and petrol to be eliminated in the use of electric vehicles 

- By 2025 aim to have 100% renewable energy sources.

- By 2025 to build 360 wind turbines for renewable energy.

HOME’s Carbon neutral Policies

What is HOME doing that other companies aren’t?

Staff

All staff go through Carbon Literacy training, advocating climate change awareness and implementing actions to reduce the environmental impact of their working practices, operations, programming and activities.

HOME are one of only three organisations worldwide to be recognised with Platinum Carbon Literate Organisation status.

Through their Carbon Literacy training they are fostering, connecting and amplifying HOME’s mission with their cultural, local and global community, sharing knowledge, influencing others, and inspiring action in their commitment to collective responsibility, accountability and action.

Sustainability 

Quoted from their Environmental and Sustainability Action Plan 2018-2022

HOME is committed to best sustainable policy and practice. The following document outlines our KPIs in line with the 2018-2022 Arts Council England Strategic Business Plan. 

Working hard to reduce our environmental impacts, we continually monitor and report on our activities in order to better understand and improve our performance. 

Through training and knowledge-sharing we enable our staff to become sustainability champions, supporting and inspiring our communities, audiences, partners and stakeholders through action and engagement. 

As ambassadors for change we actively support Manchester’s Zero Carbon strategies, and as cultural leaders we advance the growth of our sector through innovative low-carbon initiatives and endeavours. With sustainability fully embedded into the heart of our organisation, its operations and programming, our efforts today strengthen a creative green future for tomorrow. 

Sustainable Procurement

They support local business by using North West producers supplying dairy, fruit and vegetables, meat, sustainably-sourced fish, ales and snacks. The majority of their food is prepared from scratch on site, and they have a great selection of plant-based and meat-free options on the menu.

All in-house catering waste is composted, recycled or converted into Waste-to-Energy biofuel. They are also trying to eliminate single-use plastic by 2020. They want to change habits as well as mindsets, that’s why you’ll find reusable cups for use in our theatres and cinemas.

(but yet they use membership cards that are made out of single use plastic that isn’t recyclable?)

Through collaboration with Green Business Growth they have developed a sustainable procurement survey and regularly review their suppliers, creating a sustainable tendering process for operational activities.

Green Initiatives

They acknowledge that rapid and urgent action is needed across all sectors of society.

Their Environmental and Sustainability group comprises staff members from across the organisation, who are dedicated to bringing a variety of environmental innovations and practices to HOME, driving change, developing initiatives and inspiring both individual action and collective change.

Ideally located to be reached by public transport, cycling, or on foot, just off the Oxford Road corridor, it is now even easier to reach HOME without a car. Improved cycle routes and Dutch-style bike lanes ensure a smooth journey, and we have Sheffield stands available to secure your bike on site.

(one of the problems we identified as they have a HUGE car park which kinda conflicts with what they are saying here!)

Building

The building uses a 100% renewable electricity supplier alongside their Combined Heat and Power Plant (CHP) which helps to reduce their carbon emissions through on-site energy generation and conversion.  The building scored a B-rating for efficiency in the Energy Performance Certificate (EPC) and continues to hold a C-rating for our Display Energy Certificate (DEC). The DEC is renewed on an annual basis, allowing HOME to target and demonstrate good energy management to all users and members of the public.

They have a Building Management System that assists in the operating of their building, ensuring that it is continually controlled, monitored and adjusted. By remotely monitoring energy meters they can record and consider their consumption. With real-time regulating of heating and ventilation systems, they minimise waste and run efficiently. 

Which basically means it’s a smart building that auto-regulates itself so that it uses less energy.

Artist Research

Key Word

Social Sculpture- an expanded concept of art that was invented by the artist and co-founder of the German Green Party Joseph Beuys.

Joseph Beuys

A German Fluxus, happening, and performance artist as well as a painter, sculptor, medallist, installation artist, graphic artist, art theorist, and pedagogue.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7gNR8WH6BM

‘Everybody is an artist’

- Founder of the Green Party

- Connection between art and technology

- Talking to dead animal shows the break down of nature as a result of humans.

- Goes on about how the Swedish flag is the same as for medical, could be a bandaid healing mankind.

After looking at some of his work, I came across something that I thought looked familiar, a piece of his artwork called ‘I like America and America likes me’ 

In May 1974, the visionary German artist Joseph Beuys flew into New York City’s John F Kennedy International Airport and was immediately taken by ambulance to a room in West Broadway’s René Block Gallery. But he was not ill, or even in pain. Carried by stretcher, which was covered in his signature layer of felt, Beuys shared this solitary space with a coyote – a wild beast, often considered to represent America’s untamed spirit – for three days. It was a performance, entitled I Like America and America likes Me, taut with caution (the animal at first was erratic, and tore apart a blanket in the room), but one that was ultimately a success: the coyote grew tolerant, accepting, simply through Beuys’ desire to heal.

This is familiar to me because the name of the performance is also a song by the British band The 1975 who are also known for being quite controversial in their methods of conveying a message. 

This song is a political song about gun violence.The song starts out with the lyrics

I'm scared of dying You're set on fire Am I a liar? Ooh (No gun required) I'm scared of dying No gun required, ooh My skin is fire, so desired

And later on goes on about how people are ignoring are happening what is going on in the world around them which is what Beuys was also trying to enlighten.

Would you please listen? Would you please listen? We can see it's missing When you bleed, say so we know Being young in the city Believe in saying something Would you please listen? Would you please listen? We can see it's missing When you bleed, say so we know

Idea

Could we possibly encourage people to be environmentally conscious by getting them to think of it as creating art?

Friedrich Engels

A German philosopher, communist, social scientist, journalist and businessman. His father was an owner of large textile factories in Salford, England and in Barmen, Prussia.

- Statue of him outside of HOME

- Statue of his beard outside of Adelphi building

Rafael Lozano Hemmer

A Mexican-Canadian electronic artist who works with ideas from architecture, technological theater and performance. He holds a Bachelor of Science in physical chemistry from Concordia University in Montreal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlvjGrOv2Ms

‘your asking people not to be separated from reality but to be part of it and think of the world in a different way’

- Inspired by computing pioneer Charles Babbage

- Found a way to visualise the movement of the air as words are spoken using various mediums.

Idea

How can we make the invisible visible so people will notice?

Theaster Gates

An American social practice installation artist and a professor in the Department of Visual Arts at the University of Chicago.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zlq5ilsfoSo

- Bought properties in run down areas and gave people a place to be creative

- This is what the world needs on a grand scale. a boost to community self esteem, individuals, and a boost to the economy.

- Non- profit organisations creating meaningful places which attracts a diverse community 

[scotb15092433-blog]

Royal Prince William Proposed To Kate Along With Diana Ring On Hill.

LUKLA, Nepal/KATHMANDU (News Agency) - As saviors drop hope from locating much more survivors in Nepal's quake catastrophe area, a different dramatization has unravelled higher over them on Mount Everest where the chances from a handful of rich mountain climbers and also some of their sherpas have actually likewise disappeared. Pussy-cats maintain their claws retracted when walking along, with the exception of cheetahs.2 Where I live, I often view printings with claw proofs that are clearly a canine or coyote, although I have observed genuine mountain lion tracks on rare celebrations. With the incorporated length there is a tendency for these to move (slip) on your take care of clubs so keep in mind along with the included leaverage that this set provides you have to secure them up completely and examine all of them regularl, other than that I have located these to become a great addition to my mountain bike.

Mountain cycling is an interest for those who adore enjoying that. It needs nerves from steel and also is undoubtedly certainly not recommended for the weak hearted. This is so attractive that Gary Crill, Mountain range Meadow top dog, notifies me that both dealers and also people are actually acquiring these origins certainly not just as a work device, however, for guns feature in properties, shops, or even at gun programs. Riders from mountain bikes ought to actually understand that when out on their bikes that things can easily occasionally make a mistake. Cougar additionally offers Power Snooze, an ingenious brand-new feature that keeps your MacBook Pro along with RetinaTM display as well as MacBook Air (second and also 3rd generation) around time while it sleeps. The Reddish Bull Rampage is actually renowned as one from the greatest combination exams of toughness, bold, as well as ability in professional hill cycling Coming from 2001 to 2004, the competition was held off the Kolob Balcony Roadway near the western end of Zion National forest.

The volume of false-starts, hurdles, and barriers I, and also my other half Oksana, faced just before reaching the bottom from the mountain was actually Beprettywomen.Info simply overcome by subterfuge, luck, and a good reputation. Iron Mountain range was actually offered because of the method, as well as other are actually slated for the leave door. Or ride along Arkansas's outstanding Ozark Mountain range paths, halting to fish the rivers as well as check out Dogpatch, UNITED STATE, and also Silver Buck City. As of the end of Q3-17, Iron Hill had actually decreased its own lease adjusted take advantage of ratio to 5.5 x off 5.8 x in Q2 and also improved the ability readily available on the center structure continuing to be.

You have all the ingredients for the best evening in one area; really good music, Italian dishes (the hands-down epitome of romantic food; believe, Woman and the Tramp!), candlelight, cool, mountain range air, fantastic red or white wines or even some privacy. OS X Server demands Cougar and also are going to be actually accessible in July from the Macintosh Application Store for $19.99 (United States). Problem, exhaustion, poor cravings, nausea or vomiting, puking, light-headedness and rest disturbances that build six to 12 hours after ascension all could be symptoms of hill sickness, the article warns. Thus merely merely selecting a mountain bicycle trip, or even going for a swim, or getting into doing yoga class, or even one thing as basic as selecting a walk, or maybe even carrying out jumping jacks when no one is actually appearing are going to produce a drug store of knowledge within your mind which will definitely impact your psychology, your neurobiology, and also your internal life, makings you only believe a whole lot better. Re-vegetation is difficult as plants almost always cannot develop leaving mountain range tops that have actually been hydro-seeded. Day opportunity fundamentals still apply during a night time mtb experience, featuring water, high electricity foods items and also a cut kit.