#context: bird was in the parking lot of my apartment for 2 days without moving

[crowcryptid]

the coot (type of bird) that I rescued on thanksgiving had to be put down :[

They didn’t tell me what happened so idk if it was sickness or injury. The place I took it to only releases animals, they can’t keep them if they’re not able to survive in the wild. Idk if it was due to being not fit to be released or if it just wasn’t going to make it either way.

[hanoella]

Affettuoso- With Feeling (Part 1)

Pairing: Bucky x Pianist!Reader

Set after the events of TFATWS: In an effort to start over and make a home in Louisiana, Bucky meets a friend of Sam's who ends up being his landlord. With only a driveway to separate them, he finds that he's not the only one looking for a fresh start.

Series tags/warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Bucky x Reader, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Canon Level Violence

Read Part 2

---

After everything that happened with the Flag Smashers and the GRC, Bucky thought that laying low with Sam in Louisiana was a good idea. He had been looking for a fresh start anyway. Between losing Steve and making his last amends, New York as of late had only been full of sad memories and regrets. Louisiana was so different- slower paced and fresh, no negative feelings. No feelings at all, actually. Sam was more than understanding, letting him stay with them until he found a semi-permanent place here.

Currently, Bucky was staring out the window, watching the breeze make little waves in the grass as he ate his sandwich. Sarah and the kids had gone out to the boat, making the house feel virtually abandoned. There was too much space and not enough people. For just himself, it was only a reminder that he would continue to stay as he always had- alone.

Sam walked into the kitchen where Bucky was, effectively breaking his train of thought. He raised an eyebrow at Sam’s mischievous smile- or maybe it was a regular one. He always looked like he was up to something, at least to Bucky.

“Great news,” Sam started. “I just got off the phone with a friend of mine. She’s moving down here for some work and is looking for someone to live on the property with her.”

“She?” Bucky questioned.

“Listen, I know what you’re thinking but before you say anything else, let me explain. So she already bought the house, it’s less than 10 minutes from here so you can still see us whenever you want. The property’s a couple acres so it’s got tons of space. It comes with an apartment over the shed, so you don’t have to share walls. She keeps to herself so she won’t bother you,” Sam said, counting the pros on his fingers as he talked.

“And the best part is: you don’t need to pay rent. I explained the situation, with you being a hero to the world and all, and she said as long as you can help her out with the heavy-duty stuff like taking care of the property and the occasional repair, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Bucky eyed the couch that had been his home for the past several weeks. Don’t get him wrong- being here with the boys was fun. Unfortunately though, he was still in a place in his life where he needed time to think, heal and meditate. The nightmares, although less frequent, were still occurring. Sam was always supportive, but Bucky didn’t want to keep putting him out. Sam noticed the hesitation and spoke.

“You don’t have to decide right now, but she’s moving here in a few days and could at least use some help. She said we could go look at the property now- no pressure though. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want.”

Bucky paused a moment before nodding.

“Okay, let’s go.”

---

Sam turned into a dirt driveway lined with low hanging trees on one side and a field on the other. Bucky wouldn’t have even noticed it if not for the mailbox on the street.

“See, well this is perfect for you, it’s back in the cut.” Sam said.

Bucky could understand from context clues that that meant secluded. Probably.

It took a few seconds down the driveway before the trees on the left cleared and the water was visible. On the other side, there was a light green house with white trim. With the typical Southern architecture and porch, it was the picture perfect place to live. No neighbors- just trees and water.

Sam whistled as they pulled up at the end of the driveway by the house. Now that they were closer, Bucky could see the large garage on the opposite side of the driveway. It almost looked like another house but much smaller, and with a small dock in the water. The bottom floor of the garage had two large doors that opened upwards, and one regular doorway. The top floor had several windows with curtains in them, shrouding the inside. Getting out of the car, Bucky walked around the car to where Sam was opening the door to the garage.

Going in to inspect the garage, Bucky blinked to adjust to the dim light. He looked around to find several yard tools, some cans of paint on shelves, and a riding mower. On the back wall was a door. Hearing a rustle, he turned to find Sam feeling up on the highest shelf.

“Found it!” He said triumphantly, holding the key to the apartment up.

Walking over to the door on the back wall, Sam unlocked it and pulled it open. Bucky poked his head through the doorway and looked up to the staircase at his left. He turned to meet Sam’s eye, who shrugged before gesturing to Bucky to take the lead. It led up to the top floor of the garage, which was fitted with an apartment that turned out to be nicer than he thought.

It was simple but in good condition. Dark hardwood floor, white trim, pale steel blue walls. Where they had walked up was the living room. Directly across from it was a kitchen area with a veranda to walk out on. The open space then shrunk to a hallway to the left. The bathroom being the first door and a bedroom at the end of the hall. Overall, plenty of space for one person.

“I don’t know about you Buck, but this place seems perfect.” Sam said as he opened the glass sliding door to the veranda. It overlooked the undisturbed landscape, hidden from the nearby town.

“It does.” Bucky responded simply.

He took a moment to walk out onto the veranda with Sam and view the birds wading through the water.

“Well good,” Sam said with a chuckle. “This way, you can stop hitting on my sister.”

Bucky laughed and punched him in the arm. Sam feigned physical and emotional injury.

“Haha, Very funny.”

Sarah was a nice gal, but focused on her life at the moment. Sure, there had been a few sparks, but ultimately she had made it clear that her priority at the moment was her boys and her business. Bucky had been a good sport about it. It just felt good to be back in the game without it feeling forced.

Sam watched as Bucky stared out at the water before switching to a serious note.

“So… You feel like you’re ready?”

Bucky slowly nodded.

“Yeah. This is it.”

Sam smiled wide as he handed the key over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Welcome home.”

---

Bucky had very few belongings from New York that came with him. A small wooden table with chairs. A few books. A bed, a couch, a TV. There wasn’t really a whole lot that couldn’t be replaced if needed. He had been able to take the trip to and from in a few days, already moving his belongings into the apartment. The only big thing he had done was bring Steve’s old Harley out of storage. He probably should get a car at some point since it wasn’t the city anymore but he’d figure it out.

After saying goodbye to Sarah and the kids, Bucky opened the door to Sam's truck.

“Promise you’ll visit?” shouted one of the boys before clinging to him.

Bucky smiled and patted the kid on the back.

“Of course, I will.” He said, looking at the other boy before gesturing for him to join the hug.

“Uncle Buck’s not going anywhere boys,” Sam promised across the center console from the driver’s side.

Both boys eventually peeled off of Bucky’s side. He got in the truck and rolled down the window.

“Be good for your mom okay?” He said to the boys as he waved and nodded at Sarah, who smiled back as the truck started.

“Okay, bye!” They shouted until Bucky could no longer see them in side view mirror.

He really would miss those kids.

They drove in comfortable silence until they pulled up to the house where a light blue sedan was parked next to a storage pod that had been delivered. After parking by it, they exited the truck as you were stepping out of your car.

“Sam!” You exclaimed cheerfully, as you went in for a hug. He lifted you slightly off the ground and you laughed, smiling wide. Bucky stood to the side and observed the interaction, giving you a once-over. You were dressed appropriately for the work you were about to do- light-wash high-water jeans, a white t-shirt with a chest pocket, canvas shoes, and hair up in a slightly messy bun with a few gold bobby pins thrown in to hold back any loose wisps of hair.

After Sam set you down, he turned to Bucky and introduced you.

“… and we met during a charity event that Tony hosted. She offered her services free of charge to help us raise money for the VA.”

You held a hand out to Bucky.

“It’s very nice to meet you! Thanks so much for helping me move in, I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiled lightly and nodded as he shook your hand.

“Nice to meet you too.”

You smiled and took back your hand before looking at the house.

“Shall we?” You inquired, gesturing towards the storage pod.

“Of course,” Sam replied, opening the door to the pod. As Bucky looked inside, he noted that it was mostly just boxes. The noticeable items were the same as his: the bare minimum- besides a fancy electric piano.

“How’re you gonna fill up this house with a few pieces of furniture?” Sam joked.

“Hey, it’s better than having too much stuff! Besides, don’t guys always say that women have too much stuff?” You quip back as you reach for one of the larger boxes in the pod.

“Ah-ah-ah, no you don’t,” Sam said as he intercepted you and picked up the box.

“Oh, c’mon Sam. I’ll feel bad if I make you guys do all the heavy stuff.”

“You’re not making us do anything. Besides, I’ll be fine, and the old man could use some exercise,” he said, nodding towards Bucky.

You smiled timidly at Bucky.

“I have a bad shoulder.” You explained while gripping the top of your right arm.

“I get what that feels like,” he sympathized, nodding to his metal arm.

“Ah, yes, I’m sorry, it’s not nearly as bad-”

Bucky cut you off.

“Don’t be sorry. If it’s hurting you, don’t worry about it. We can handle it.” He said gently, pausing for a moment before continuing.

“Or at least I can.”

Sam tilted his head back and feigned hurt feelings while you picked up a lamp base and shook it lightly at him.

“Does this meet your approval, Mr. Wilson?” You asked teasingly.

“Why yes, yes it does. Now come on.”

He walked into the house, you right on his heels. Bucky eyed the two of you together for a moment before picking up a few boxes himself.

---

A few hours later, he was sitting on the worn leather couch next to Sam while you went to get them some drinks in the kitchen. You appeared under the white trimmed archway into the living area holding three glasses.

“One sweet tea for the guest, one lemonade for my new neighbor, and a half and half for the gracious host.” You said, holding up your glass after handing the others out.

You three clinked glasses and you sunk into a sage green armchair with dark wood.

“So… how does this work?” Bucky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm, yes.” You said, swallowing the sip you had taken.

“Uhm, basically whenever you’re not off saving the world with Captain America,” You started, smiling with pride at Sam. “If you could just make sure the grass doesn’t get too long and help me with some of the more physically demanding repairs and jobs around the house, that’d be great. Of course, that only applies if you’re here, and even then, as long as it’s not urgent, you can take your time getting around to it. Other than that, you’re free to do as you please.”

“That’s very generous of you.” He remarked.

“Well, don’t say that yet,” you said while laughing. “The property is huge so it might be more of a challenge than you think. But like I said, there’s no need to rush to anything. Besides, I should be thanking you. You’ve done a lot for the world.”

Sam interjected before Bucky could respond, which was okay because he still wasn’t used to accepting thanks instead of apologizing.

“Where’s my thank you for saving the world?”

You rolled your eyes and sarcastically rattled off a thank you. Bucky cleared his throat after a moment.

“Anything you want me to start working on?”

“Oh, please get settled in first. I have some furniture getting delivered that I might need help assembling in a few days but otherwise, there’s nothing else. If you have any expenses like paint or tools, you can just use this card and let me know.” You said, handing over a credit card.

“We should also exchange phone numbers too. What’s yours?”

Bucky stalled a moment before rattling off the numbers. It was a foreign feeling- giving out his phone number. He was most definitely having PTSD from his therapist chucking his phone at him. He watched as you typed away on your phone. Feeling his phone ping, Bucky looked at it and saw a message from an unregistered number.

“Hi, It’s me :)”

“That’s my number. Obviously.”

Bucky nodded his head in thanks while registering your number. It had been a while since he had added anyone’s number. You and Sam started talking about something else while Bucky exited back to the main list of contacts. There, your name was italicized and highlighted at the top. What a strange feeling.

…

Later that night, Bucky was relaxing, enjoying the peace. It was warm for autumn, and the water was reflecting the moonlight. He couldn’t sleep. Not that that was surprising. He walked out of the apartment down to the small dock to sip on a beer and celebrate his newfound independence. Sitting on the edge where his feet barely touched the water, he leaned back onto his hands and took a deep breath in.

That’s when he heard it.

Just barely, with his enhanced hearing, he could hear your crying. It was like you were wailing in pain. Not a sharp new pain, but an intense never ending one. The kind that you hear from an animal that’s been maimed- the kind you put out of their misery. Whatever you were holding in, it had been building up for an impossibly long time and finally, exhausted, you found a chance to let it out. Being able to hear it felt like a dirty invasion of privacy.

Bucky swallowed and took another deep breath before trying to focus on the sound of the wildlife around him. But it was no use. Here you were. Here he was.

No longer the only runaway seeking refuge.

[snowdice]

First Anniversary (Part 1) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: Logan, Patton, Remy (only in the fist part)

Summary:

Logan and Patton go on a trip for their first anniversary. It’s mostly fluff (except just a bit in chapter 3).

(It’s part of a series but it literally doesn’t matter except for like 1 joke so if you want to just see them being dumb and in love, you can read this without context.)

Notes: Superhero AU (really doesn’t matter at all), fluff, so much fluff, just a hint of angst in the middle, but overwhelmed by fluff rather quickly, past child neglect/abuse, they’re soft husbands

Take this as an apology for the Gaps in His Files update. It takes place 2 and a half years-ish after Gaps ends.

Logan double and tripled checked his mental list as he waited outside his car in the hospital parking lot. Everything needed was packed in the car, the apartment was locked and the lights were all off, and he had a full tank of gas. Everything was perfect, and now he just had to wait for Patton to arrive. He should have gotten off 5 minutes ago but would need to get his things from his locker and make his way to the parking lot.

He was watching the door Patton would come out of intently so he immediately saw when two figures exited the building and started moving toward the parking lot.

Remy nudged Patton and pointed at Logan when they got close and Patton looked over. Patton’s eyes lit up when they fell on him and Logan felt himself smile back.

“Oh god,” Remy said with an eyeroll when they were in range. “Have a good sex weekend you two.” Patton reached over to slap him on the shoulder lighter than Logan would have done, but Logan couldn’t be too displeased by his lack of sufficient violence considering the next moment he was in Logan’s arms.

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “How was work, dear?”

“Long,” Patton mumbled into his chest.

“He’s been rotating between being excited about the trip and complaining that he’s not already on the trip all day,” Remy offered. “I expect restitution for my suffering in the form of coffee when you get back.”

Logan’s eyes flickered to him. “Could you just leave?”

“They’re canoodling in the hospital parking lot and tell me to leave like I’m in their bedroom,” Remy mumbled to himself even as he continued to his car and opened the door. Logan felt Patton shake his head in exasperation against his chest. “See you two next week.”

When Patton pulled back from the hug, Logan pressed a kiss to his cheek eliciting a grin. “I brought you dinner that you can eat in the car,” he said, taking Patton’s hand and pulling him toward the vehicle, “as well as the largest sized hot chocolate that I could find. If you don’t want that, I also brought bottles of water.”

“The hot chocolate is perfect,” Patton told him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive at least part of the way?”

“It’s only a two-hour drive and I have the map memorized already so it makes more sense for me to drive rather than give directions.”

“If you’re sure,” Patton said with a smile, tugging softly at his tie.

Logan leaned into him. “I’m sure.”

“Mmmkay,” Patton agreed, pushing up on his tiptoes to kiss him soundly. They were interrupted by a loud car honk. Logan drew back and “waved” at Remy as he drove out of the parking lot.

“Logan!” Patton gasped, scandalized, but he couldn’t even manage to keep the chiding look on his face for more than a moment.

“He deserves it,” Logan grumbled.

Patton laughed lightly. “Yeah, he probably does.”

Logan pressed another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth and then opened the passenger side door for him. Patton picked up his dinner off his seat before he hopped in. Logan rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat.

“Happy anniversary eve, eve, eve!” Patton chirped happily when he started the car.

Logan chuckled and grabbed his hand to press a quick kiss to his knuckles. “I think that saying so when there are that many ‘eve’s is perhaps unnecessary, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Patton just grinned and unwrapped the sandwich Logan had brought him to take a bite.

Patton giggled suddenly as they were pulling out of the parking lot.

“What?” Logan asked, glancing over at him.

“You flipped him the bird,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Bluebird flipped him the bird.”

Logan sighed. “That is your one allocated pun for this trip.”

“Well, I sure hope I don’t accidently say another one. I don’t what to know the consequences if I trip up again.”

“I’m driving home,” he said dryly even as he took the wrong turn for that, Patton giggling all the way.

[pixelburied]

excuse the cropped weirdly pictures; my family/pet's foster parents are great at snapping a sneaky picture of me curled into an unattractively slouched (relaxed) fetal state. which i'm self-conscious about because it's an unattractive position for pictures even tho i am quite pretty (but they are also cropped because im just also private as hell, sorry lmao). 

bonus tho: said pet is laying ontop of me, face buried in my shoulder, twitching in her sleep as we speak!

--- but anyway. onto the actual submission:

so yeah. i saw your post! i'm here to address your call for dogs. but i dont have anymore pictures of my dog, Cash. however, i do have stuff about my cat, Allegra. 

i dont have any of them together cuz Cash lives at my family's house and Allegra lives in my apartment. and we're p sure he'd try to eat her and she'd scratch the hell out of him, so we don't try to let them meet. but, just like how Cash continued the legacy of us adopting another big slobbery dog with possessive seperation-anxiety, Allegra does fit all the criteria of those same personality traits we are such a beacon for. so i hope youll accept it as comfort nonetheless

here's a story about my cat who acts just like a anxious, cuddly, and slobbery pupper. i even bought her a pet ID tag that's shaped like a bone to honor that joke lmao) Allegra: "the honorary and tiniest mastiff" and named after the allergy medication

i got Allegra just this last year. she was a stray. now, for context: there are lots of outdoor cats in my neighborhood and they all hate strangers (they aren't feral tho, they have collars). but they all avoided my old house though because of Cash. so Allegra, newly abandoned, took advantage of that safety(?) by constantly hiding out around my family's house whenever she felt endangered

before that point tho, where i vaguely realized she existed but had no idea of what her strategy had been: i knew the cats of the neighborhood would run 15 miles away at the sound of people. but i am a small bean of cliches, so i always say "Hi kitty" anyway. even if them running away breaks my heart. and on that day, i was on my way to work for the opening shift, not early per se but i had enough time for starbucks if i wanted (and i did want) and i saw the vague mass of a cat on the lawn. predictably, i went "Hey kitty". but i also kept walking to my car due to said expectation of cats running and not wanting my heart to have that little break

and allegra did run. she just ran at me, full speed. i almost kicked this sudden HURLING THING in my peripherals like a football out of fight/flight + anxiety, except i have the aim of Charlie Brown so i thankfully missed her terribly. she was purring up a storm and crying pathetically. tho she's a Siamese, so they talk (read: complain) a lot anyway so maybe she wasn't crying. i always call her talking "crying" anyway tho cuz of the whiny pitch of it so such is a moot point. the real point was: she was ridiculously friendly

then, one morning, she was especially incorrigible. she wouldn't let me go into the car without her jumping inside too and kept scenting me, my car door, and all my equipment for this art class i was going to use for my presentation. a presentation that was a huge chunk of my grade that i couldn't be late for and Allegra was going to make late for. i had to trick her into thinking i was going to run away from my car, to which she zoomed ahead to cut me off, except i had actually done a fake-out and had really ran into the driver's seat and was already starting to slowly reverse out of the driveway. she had the sense to not go after a moving vehicle, thank god. my family texted me she cried outside our front door for hours later though. my art class that semester met once a week, so it was a 4.5 hour class that started at 7AM. and even tho that day had been a presentation day and we had less than 15 students, we still went over 3 hours. she cried during all of it. i used the "free time" to make sure i bought a cat leash and a cardboard cat carrier. but when i came back, heard no crying

i tried to get one of my neighbors to hold onto her for the afternoon. i couldnt leave her in my old house; i had family members i lived with who were terribly allergic. but i swore, so long as someone held onto her for my shift, i could take her to a shelter after. she was just so friendly and obviously new here, i just needed someone to put her somewhere safe (we lived by the freeway, by a train, by the main alternative to the freeway, and by two dog parks). but nobody really could hold onto her, so i had to hope she'd show up again when i came back from work. she didn't. i left her food out anyway.

i took her to the Humane Society Shelter closest to us because they have a microchip scanner. and she did have a chip! that was completely empty! apparently, that's a thing!! the guy there asked if i was going to keep her then, and i hadn't really thought that far. i had made the mistake of naming her and thinking she was cute, and she had done the legwork of being a cuddly motherfucker who purred constantly whenever i was around

she'd only ever appear in the early morning, when i was on my way to my shift or a midterm. about a week or two passed like this with me having no idea where she was for the rest of the day. turns out, according to said allergic family members, Allegra actually never left the house. she would hide on our roof or on our back porch's clutter or in our droopy lawn plants (like our sweetgrass) to hide from the outdoor cats or other dangers (she's a smart cat who hates the sound of cars and would hide whenever any one was particularly loud)

i'm pretty sure she's plenty well-cared for tho. in fact, i'm almost positive she's a very spoiled cat. for example, i have backups of everything x2. i have one of everything in my living area and a copy in my bedroom, should i need to close her in there when allergic family members are over (i also carry all the big allergy medication brands as a back-up in case i get a visitor who forgot to take their medication, which includes me being stocked with allegra the medication lmao) and then i also have a back-up of all her stuff in my closet should anything break. i always make sure all my windows are open when i leave for class/shifts so she can have "Cat TV" since birds do fly around the area. she has a ton of toys (she has a toy box actually) and i bought her multiple hideaways (like her shark pictured here; she also has a cactus that's pretty cute). also, ontop of having a good breakway collar, her microchip now reads my information. but yeah, im still working on the money to get her one more of everything for the house we visit for the holidays so i don't have to carry everything. i do a lot of research still-- on both cats and Siamese-- to make sure i am doing everything to make her happy, since her world is just me and our apartment now

i called out for her-- i had long since started calling her Allegra as a joke, because its a name of a popular allergy medication and so much of my family was allergic-- and shrugged sadly when she didn't come out. i had just put my stuff down to get my key out when i heard a familar crybaby. turns out, she had been sleeping in our sweetgrass and i had woken her up. she ran over and i called my family to take my things inside while i used the rest of my day to get her to a shelter. i put on a cat harness+leash before trying to out her in the cardboard box. don't buy cardboard boxes from Pet Co. they're shit. she broke out of it Alien style before i had even fully reversed out of the driveway. i had to improvise her leash into a seatbelt instead

but yeah. i say my favorite gremlin is dog-like because:

she has an overbite, so she looks like she's got her lip jutted out in a pout all the time. what's dog-like about it is this makes her slobber whenever she's excited or content (and i've grown up with mastiffs, who slobber so much you need 2 rags per room dedicated to their slobber)

hesitatingly, i called my only family member that was semi-local to see if he would be okay with fostering her until i was going to move (which was less than 6 months away) because, otherwise, i wasn't going to be able to keep her. and she was definitely going to be adopted immediately. he and his wife said of course, without hesitation. they were both huge cat lovers and they were, emotionally, my closest family members; so i had kept them in the loop about my cat quest. and they had already discussed potentially fostering Allegra, knowing my request was a possibility (read: probability). he drove over from his workplace to pick her up, with his own carrier, and drove the roughly 2 hours from our house back to his

she meows when people are at the door and greets them by begging for pets

she loves shoes. she steals my tennis shoes because she loves the laces and she will try to swat at them when im tying them. her claw getting stuck and forcing me to not continue has worked to make me late multiple times. but she also will lay down around my friends' feet and rub her face against their shoes, flipflops, and toes. one of my friends likes to joke that allegra has a foot fetish. she also can and will put her face into my tennis shoes and try to sleep like that. that's my bastard baby

i visited their house about once a week. except during finals, where i didn't visit for two or three weeks since i didnt have any exams so much as i had projects. (allegra was PISSED at me when i came back, my cuddly kitty refused to come near me and would run away when forcibly placed on my lap. she even swiped at me. by the next visit, she was grumpy but happier. by the one after that, everything was back to normal) i really liked visiting those family members too; it made us even closer. though it still annoys the male how much research i do about cat-care (as opposed to just accepting everything everyone tells me as gospel). i researched even down to "how to best pet a cat". i did this since, due to said allergic family members, i had never owned a cat and therefore didnt osmosisly process how to best care for one. i've also never been fully fauthful of people's advice that's based on "This is how we've/the media always done it". my history with mastiffs showed that not all breeds are the same and that you do have experts to utilize within your phone, and they are experts over peers for a reason. so i looked up dumbass questions like "how to best pet a cat" since i'm not an expert and Jackson Galaxy and friends are right there in my phone

she wants to play constantly. she loves tug of war the most, but anything involving chase has her going at full-speed

ive spoken to fellow cat-owners and mastiff-owners about this, and i thought this was interesting: when she isn't playing, she's sleeping. which is what mastiffs and cats do. and when i get up, she follows me. which is what our mastiffs do. and while i do stuff, she sits and waits by the doorway or else walks around my feet until i tell her to sit out of the way. which is what our mastiffs do. and then i go to sit down again, and she lays down as close as she can and goes back to sleep, which is what our mastiffs do. apparently, none of my friends cats do this; their cats just, at best, wake up to watch them leave and then their cats go back to sleep in the same place regardless of if they come back

Allegra likes to sleep at the foot of my bed for bedtime, at least for a majority of it

but, regardless if my worries, allegra seems happy! she cuddles with her claws out all the time (not sticking into my skin, just out) which is a sign of contentment. she'll also use her claws to keep me in place, like a fucking seatbelt (example pictured in post); it's where her claws will dig into the furniture and i cannot get up because of her, the possessive piece of shit. but she also gives me tons of Slow Blinks of I Love You. and she always runs to greet me at the door. and it's really funny how, anytime there's guests over, she tries to make it obvious that she's my favorite over (usually through politely tapping my leg with her paw to ask and recieve pets, and then giving everyone a very Cat Surrounded By Knives grin cuz i havent petted any of THEEEMMM lmao) she's hilarious

she doesn't like to be carried unless it means she's going with me somewhere outside the house. then she's as well-behaved as a chihuahua in a purse

she licks my hands all the time. and she licks my face to wake me up (at 4AM, Allegra, go aWAY)

she loves smelly clothes. the shoe part should tell you that much tho. for our mastiffs, we would leave them a smelly piece of clothing between washes to comfort via smell. Allegra, in a similar vein, was not impressed when i bought a laundry basket with a lid (almost carrying her to the communal laundry room once was enough, thank you!)

in the same vein as the clothes: she also loves blankets too. the more Me Smelling the blanket, the better (aka she doesn't like brand new blankets until its been like. month two or three of use). this is largely because i love blankets. but she kneads them, purring, even if im not using them. and when i am, she takes my using them as an invitation for cuddles

she sits whenever i tell her "NO" like 'who me? i was not doing a bad. i am but small creature'

she asks for a daily walk. she doesn't like the idea of being an outdoor cat. she just wants walks. like, she has lived several months not going outside and has been super happy. she made it clear on her adoption day that she was done with outside. she was perfectly content with being an indoor cat! still is, in a way! i ruined it. for myself. me. i was worried she wasn't being stimulated enough, so i experimented taking her on a walk and now i have created a monster. now she sits by the door and cries until i get out her harness and leash. which she hates her harness in a "no ball, only throw" kinda way. but she has also proven hates going outside alone since she is now ALSO scared of everything (remember those outdoor cats Allegra The Stray would hide from? how they would run away from strangers?? yeah. now that she has a Person, Allegra's turned into one of Them now). yeah.. she runs the fuck away (or as far as she can with a leash) from people she sees on her walks now. and it is pretty obvious she hates cars and dogs too, because when i have walked her outside of our new complex she is too petrified to move. like, she freezes even when just being close to a street. she likes our complex's janky carpeted hallways between the apartments, and she likes the ability to hide behind my legs. being an outdoor cat is something Allegra has decided she is not a fan of. if i try to change things up scenery-wise, she always asks to go home as soon as possible and runs into the apartment if our walks turn too much into what her life was before being adopted (aka. streets/cars, lawns, people walking). she wants walks. she LOVES and BEGS for walks. but not be outside. walks. even though she still hates her harness lmao

and that's Allegra! she's aproximately 2 years old, i've had her for less than a year, and she's assumedly a purebred Siamese cat. and she's also my ESA, or Emotional Support Animal. if applicable, a cuddly and loving pet is helpful for keeping mental health more stable. in my experience of getting one, it was fairly easy to get it permitted; especially a cat because they're super easy to get registered as compared to a dog. i am lucky enough to have regular physician as my doctor that empathizes with mental health and knows it not to be her area of expertise so much as the patient+their therapist (but also i have a history of attempted treatment on my medical record since i was 16), so my getting registered was literally just me asking for a doctor's note and her giving it to me near immediately. i can't take Allegra with me to classes or resteraunts or anything, nor do i even want to, but it forces apartments/hotels to HAVE to let me board with my ESA and to do so without an additional fee. however, i don't know if that's how ESAs work internationally or even in all of the states of America, the country where i live. but it definitely helps to have someone who needs me to get up everyday, who can never trigger me, who makes me laugh with their hijinks, and who cuddles with me regardless of if i have had a good day or bad day. Allegra is especially good at her job by being especially attentive whenever i am anxious. even if it's just me getting a little bit anxious because i'm late in turning an assignment in but have logically decided it doesn't matter because the assignment is only 2 points anyway, just turn it in late and don't focus on it; and she starts patting my leg almost continuously asking for pets inbetween rubbing herself on my legs. it's why i let her get away with never paying rent. i'm really glad she chose me. we both got really lucky with that decision ♡

i don't want to assume your situation, so i won't recommend an ESA for you so much as just remind you that they exist. i hope this all helps you feel supported and encouraged to continue to find the small wonders ♡♡♡

[joyatlarge-blog]

The Anatomy of a Good Facilitator

Q: What are the characteristics and practices of a great facilitator?

A: This is a question posed a few times to date and its possibilities never fail to paralyse me. It has had enough time to simmer into a coherent pattern, and using energy from an afternoon conversation about this, I have decided to organise my response in writing.

Until this time, I had what were principles of facilitation I practice, but this invites a participants' perspective and its relationship to the facilitator's behind-the-scenes take on why that is. 

But first, I will reduce the scope and ambition of this question to this:

Q: What makes a good facilitator? 

A: Parking practice aside, which deserves a curriculum in itself, I decided to subsume characteristics into sort-of pillars describing a good facilitator. 

Part of my mid-year review involves a scan of feedback from sponsors over the past six months, and what I remember of specific positive feedback. The other part of my review is feedback from my mentors and those who see how it runs under the hood. I trust their intuition and their expertise, and I believe this will make a well-rounded observation on what I believe makes a good facilitator. 

All this to say, this summary is work-in-progress and something to build on as different experiences elapse. Before I launch into an X-steps listicle, I'll start from the very outset to give context to the deep tissue.

On the Surface

Participants who have gone through a positive experience tend to describe the description as unexpectedly "collaborative" describing both the process and other participants, "aligning" when surprised by how much in common a diverse group can share, "fun" as far as professionals can go.

Specific anecdotes from sponsors include some tough characters, usually senior executives, who walk in the day with scepticism, and during the course of the workshop, begin to display behaviours which surprise them: they are engaged, cooperative, laughing, and look like they are enjoying themselves. My delight is hearing accounts of participants who are shocked by the more pleasant side of difficult characters they have not yet seen. I can sense the nervous laughter during the sessions, but take care that bureaucracy stays at the door. 

The other descriptors include "open" and "honesty", again, describing both the process, participants and sponsors. "Challenging", "complex" describe the problem they are learning to solve, and "thinking outside the box" expresses their mind space.

All of these, and more, are the how participants leave the workshop they felt on the whole went great. Now to address the other side of the coin.

Under the Hood

I hear this from practitioners I respect, which is: to participants, we do not seem to do very much. The only apparent work I do, apart from graphically facilitating group debriefs, is room set up, reset work stations in between exercises, sometimes serve lunch if we're working through the hour, and pack up. 

It is not apparent that deliberate preparation goes into every physical, material, place, emotional and intellectual thought process. Wires are not meant to be seen or understood when they pull away from the experience. 

This moves me on to the listicle. To caveat, these are values and characteristics I will work hard for and aspire to what makes a good facilitator:

 1. A good facilitator is precise. 

Workshops, or any problem-seeking/finding expression for that matter, require intuitive investigation. This serves to get under the skin of the very matter; to nail the exact brief requires a relentless and unapologetic pursuit for it, normally by asking questions which abstract and stretch, play with the data given. I'd say 70% of a good workshop is finding clarity in the problem, and the precise landing. 

This precision guides the design process. The facilitator's design holds the workshop, by holding, I mean more like a hug which loosely wrangles the chaos, more than a strongman's deadlift. Every input serves the purpose. Nothing is there by accident; including the thoughts which run through participants' minds. Exercises will adapt to the group during the day, but as long as the landing is clear, your design will bring you there with precision. This applies to programmes that extend beyond workshops.

 2. A good facilitator listens.

A good facilitator listens deeply to navigate complexity with intuition. From the very beginning, and coupled with deep listening and curiosity, a good facilitator is able to take in volumes of new, complex information, and cut through to the problem. Often the problem is not explicitly stated, even after several dispensations of why's, what you often hear is not what the sponsor truly needs to solve. Listening deeply is hearing what people are really saying but not speaking out loud.

This applies in-session as well; a good facilitator listens generatively to synthesise the group's voice on-the-spot. Kelvy Bird summarises this well from the angle of scribing:

...we sense into and help surface the highest potentiality for the systems we serve...

 3. A good facilitator believes...

...in people. One of the mantras I bring to my workshops is the belief that every person is a whole, creative and resource individual who has the solution. This is one of the hardest truth for sponsors to grasp: I have seen some try to take control out of ego, anxiety, not understanding that the more they exert control, the poorer the results will be. In a way, it lives up to classical management theory that people become what you entrust them with. I see this over and over again; when you trust they are able, they can, and they will outperform. Your role is to give them the conditions and tools to get there.

...in the process. Otherwise known as the principles of design. Facilitators are not locked into their straws (detailed plans) but they have a development arc which if they believe is a good design will guide the group to its precise outcome. This is because a lot of thinking, preparation, absorbing contingencies and unknowns are part of the design, and the direction is clear.

...in beauty. Call it UX, experience design, or whatever, but it is creating an elegant solution which might look like a palace of spaghetti (in this case, pages of a straw with a long paper trail of sketch notes) on the underside, which participants will never feel or be aware about in the least. The engineering of an ah-ha moment coupled with the spontaneity life breathes into it. Effortless, marvellous, and somewhat mysterious. 

4. A good facilitator is independent...

...of content. A good facilitator does not have to stay out of content as far as it informs design and helps the group towards its outcome. Content is there to serve the group's, not their own outcomes. If the facilitator is not a content expert, they are less likely to plug their views into the session. However, a facilitator conversant in content allows them to navigate discussions better through pivoting questions and synthesis.

...of people. Group curation is important for optimal outcomes. A good facilitator is aware of the levels of knowledge and power in the room, though they are set aside during the session: no one is better or more influential than anyone else if we wish for every participant to make an equal contribution. 

...of outcome. A good facilitator surrenders their desire to the group's outcome. Content experts who double hat as a facilitator in their own field struggle with this. The ability to hold back and trust the group to arrive at their learnings is not for most people. One case turned into a demanding teacher, mostly talking at, rather than educating the session. 

Equally, if a sponsor is not able to let go of his preconceived solutions from the outset, they either the workshop has little meaning for a collective outcome or the facilitator becomes a tool for manipulation. We draw an ethical line on this. A facilitated session is deeply affecting and will not be used to push a sole agenda without the group's alignment.

 6. A good facilitator is insatiably curious.

Curiosity about people and their thought processes is paramount. Facilitation life is over when you stop being curious. Curiosity is an intrinsic value to openness, and like improvising, it requires you to be hyper-attentive to the elements in your environment. 

Csikszentmihalyi calls this state being in flow: in practice, that closing voice of defensiveness has no space to operate because your mind is trained constantly on why and how others interact with content, the space and each other. When you genuinely listen, you have no inner dialogue that interferes with the intensity you give to the room. Your mind is constantly looking for what improvisers call 'offers', the energy, themes, ideas, which accelerate the group to their outcome which override your tactical processes. 

 5. A good facilitator is creative. 

Another way to think about this is in terms of adaptability. A good facilitator is highly adaptive to their environment while influencing it. Looking at this like tight feedback loops, the facilitator feeds back to the group in real time so the group is able to learn quickly and adapt towards their goals in an accelerated way: whether it is learning to work with a new group for the first time, or even learning about the problem they are trying to solve, and sometimes both at the same time. 

When working with people towards a precise outcome, a good facilitator is able to sculpt both content and process so that her design will bring them there; it sounds simple but complexities are found in

i) missing information, i.e. who's showing up

ii) unapparent information, i.e. who knows what and

iii) unpredictability, i.e. collective dynamic and synergies.

Borrowing from architecture, a good facilitator is able to sandbox their blueprint to explore several contingencies and purpose parameters, then work out the design details of wiring, interior, furniture, and where people will move about or gather. Likewise, designing for a facilitated session requires creatively abstract information at a meta level, and exercising creativity at every level of detail that cascades down, like workshop exercises, group settings, room layout, walls, and type of pens, feel, colour. 

Working across subjects, there is a call for intellectual flexibility and sometimes contortion. The fact is there is only so much to know in so little time, so creativity is applied under constraints - how does one curate the knowledge required for the group given to produce a meaningful outcome, accommodating what we do not know about their levels of knowledge.

 7. A good facilitator is improvises well.

Prefacing this statement, a good facilitator has access to several tools to improvise from. Equally, she is also able to create from constraints. These are symbiotic: the more she has available, the more she has to play with even when she has less freedom. 

In context of precision, a good facilitator also knows how to source, abstract, and redesign content that will move the group's thinking tracks, and relational tracks. They are willing to be present to the moment, and when they moment calls for it, release their own preconceived designs, and take up what the group offers in line with the higher purpose.

Worth mentioning is embodiment, and other visual, audio facilities. The body and other tools are also sensors, receiving and emitting information; improv work is a good way to become connected to your body language which does more than you can say to move the room. 

 The Ultimate Quest

So all that said, what do I think makes a good facilitator: it is their store of creativity and curiosity to design precise human experiences, and outcomes for a group of people. At the very heart, it is about individuals who are a collective as capable of more. 

Not unique to facilitation, but a good facilitator also inspires others to develop their styles because it is joyfully productive, and give the news like gospel to their professional and personal communities. 

This can't be all and there is so much more to say about group curation, collaboration, how to practice the craft, in-session flying, and design spokes. One of my greatest fascinations with facilitation is the way it will continue to evolve with the needs of the world; after all, the greatest catalyst for human advancement are the questions which shape them, and what better way to do this than through human (dare I say human-machine?) collaboration. 

Let's see what the future holds. I will revisit this when more clarity blossoms.