#dean bayfield

[green-typewriterz]

Some Kind of Animal, Cannibal

Sam Winchester x gn!reader

Summary: You and Sam get lucky when trying to find the missing people…the luck being you both get taken too.

ASK: N/A

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, illness, injury, refusing to eat, kidnapping, cannibalism, talks of feeling sick, it’s basically all angst, early seasons Sam (3-4)

Author notes: VERY INSPIRED by Possibly in Michigan - Animal Cannibal, Reader is smart and took criminology in college. loosely based off of season one episode fifteen, I thought of this when talking to myself at 12:03 am as any good fic writer does.

word count: 4012

The three of you had been in the small town of Bayfield, Wisconsin for almost a week now and still barely anything had come up about the seven missing people. From what you had figured out, there was a sort of pattern; they were always taken at night and it was always in pairs.

Dean assumed it was a demon, but something didn’t feel right to you. Demon’s were vicious, masochistic, it didn’t make sense for them to take a person and not parade the kill about the town for all to see. Sam thought it could be a vamp, maybe even a rugaru, but you weren’t sure.

”How’s the research goin?” Dean asked nonchalantly as he walked back into the damp motel room, a bag of beers and snacks in his hand. You looked up from your uncomfortable position on the bed with an exasperated look and Sam leaned back on his chair. That was all the answer he needed. “So we’ve still got no clue at all?” He continued, turning to look at you, “and you’re sure it’s not a demon.”

You shook your head, “not completely, but it just doesn’t make sense for the profile.” Sam smiled slightly as you spoke; you could’ve been an FBI agent (meaning you probably would’ve ended up crossing paths anyway) but instead you chose the hunting life. Despite this, the criminologist in you snuck out sometimes, something very useful to the two. “If it were a demon, it would be an outlier, one who had either devolved or worked differently.”

There was silence for a while and Sam sighed, pulling his hands through his hair. It was getting longer now, the tips of it tickling his jawline  every so often. “What if they’re human?” He began, “nothing about this screams monster.” Sam turned to look at you, wanting your input.

”Well what would you prefer, a monster who we know how to kill, doing something we’d expect, or a human, who may be completely insane, doing this purely because they can.” Somehow the second option seemed scarier to the three of you.

Time passed the three of you in comfortable silence, interrupted only by the low humming of MTV reruns coming from the TV Dean had put on. Sam was the first to fall asleep, leaning his head gently against his book. Dean followed soon after, his ability to fall asleep pretty much anywhere was something you had always envied. This left you in a half-awake stupor, trying to get some last few moments of research in before falling asleep like the two boys in front of you.

Eventually, you called it quits and closed your book, heading over to Sam to do the same for him. You gently replaced John’s diary with a small pillow and were placing Sam’s coat over his shoulders when you heard a crash outside. This area was known for raccoons but the noise sounded too loud to be an animal. You shook Sam awake and pulled the knife from your waistband, preparing for whatever might be outside.

Sam blearily looked over at you, standing up quickly despite the tiredness that clung to him when he saw the look in your eyes. He followed soon after, his gun firmly in his grip as the two of you walked out the door.

It was almost impossibly cold outside, the mist of the early morning clinging to your clothes. You pulled your jacket closer to you and turned round the corner into the alley, both of you with weapons raised. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a drunk guy?” Sam asked tiredly as he slowly lowered his gun. You shook your head in confusion and turned round to face him.

”It could’ve been, but something just…felt off.” You replied. It had always been impressive, your intuition - Dean had called it witch-adjacent. Neither of you were concentrating on your surroundings, talking quietly between yourself when Sam’s eyes widened and he went to raise his gun again. Though, you didn’t get a chance to fight back as pain bled through your skull. You fell to the floor as the sharp crack of Sam’s gun went off and the final thing you saw before darkness clouded over your eyes was Sam’s unconscious figure beside you. 

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

This is where you are now, waking to an unbearable pain, cold metal stinging against your skin as you come to your senses, your body racked with shivers. You sit up slowly, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room. The only light that streams through was from a dirty, mould ridden window that tints the area with a sickly green. You can hear the sharp breaths of another person from across the room and small, pained cries echo across the dark every so often. “Y/n.” The voice whispers, out of breath and harsh. You move slowly, eyes flitting across the darkness to find the source of the voice.

Sam sits in a cage of his own, hands harsh against the iron bars. His hair is damp and slick against the side of his face, face hollow and pinched from the fug of the basement. “What the hell is going on?” You reply, voice sharp from sleep.

You can see the surroundings through the thin strips of light, sun warping itself around cracked glass - it was day. “I don’t know. You’ve been asleep for a while, maybe three days. God, I thought you were dead.”

Silence spreads like a cancer. It’s been three days. Where was Dean? Did he know you were both gone? Did he care? Of course he did. You push the thought from your mind and move across the cage, hands clasping cold metal. The area wasn’t tall by any regard and you had to crouch to walk across - you felt bad for how uncomfortable Sam must be.

Eventually, you reach the other side where Sam was sitting and look at him with the same, unnatural quiet. He reaches a shaking hand across the space and clasps it over your own. He is cold, hands sweaty - though you find that you don’t care. You and Sam had always been close, leaning against one another during research or allowing him to plait your hair (and you to him if he was stressed). You run your hands over his in repetitive, soothing motions and lean your head against the rusty metal.

Sam sighs, though you aren’t sure of the emotion behind it. His hands work over your knuckles, almost as if he was massaging them, though he moves away quickly when a door opens at the top of the stairs. It shines a new light in, one that’s warm and forgiving - it feels like a new world.

Eager heeled footsteps click down the endless stairs and come to rest by a third cage, her hands laying on the side as if it were simply a wall. “Thank goodness, I was wondering when you’d wake!” She speaks cheerily, hands now clasped together. The caged woman edges closer to the light, you can see a shining, silver cross necklace resting against her chest, the metal contrasting against her dirtied skin.

There’s an almost silent click and the door in front of you swings open, creaking and worn. Sam is first to exit, his hands being chained to a small lead she holds in her palm. You felt like a dog, some kind of rabid animal she was trying to tame. She leads the three of you up the stairs, metal chains clinking miserably against your wrist.

The two of you look around your surroundings, surveying every corner, crack and door with a pinprick precision. You can see Sam’s hand instinctively move to his waistband - though you know there’d be nothing there. The three of you are led into a small dining area, lit with the homely glow of candles. You could almost laugh at the difference.

Lori, as she had introduced herself, sits you down with a smile and places a plate in front of you. It’s warm and suddenly reminds you that you haven't eaten in a while. You share a wary look with Sam and lean back in your chair, you’re not an idiot.

The girl opposite you, a tangle of sinew and bone, eats silently, hair withered and face gaunt - God knows how long she’s been here.

She’s pretty, she would’ve been. The girl has a sharp hooked nose and deep brown eyes, skin dark and warm. But she’s lost her hope, and with hope goes will, strength and livelihood. Though beauty seems to have stayed.

From her, you come to the conclusion that the food wasn’t poisoned, but you don’t want to test it anyway - you won’t accept food from someone who kidnapped you.

The room is quiet, the only sound being the crackle of candles and the repeated scrape of a fork on a plate. 

It’s a winding path to sleep, something Sam doesn’t seem to be blessed with any more. His hands shake in yours, his eyes screwed shut. This is you, sitting, waiting for the path to end, withering resolve and aching eyes. This is you, standing on the shoreline as Hero - a goddess' daughter - as your Leander’s searchlight dims. This is you, letting time slip from your fingertips like golden blood.

The routine continues like a paper mobius strip, one that’s tearing. There’s an end, you can see it carving itself into marble - but it’s an ending you do not want for Sam.

It’s in this routine now, that you wake, hold a slowly succumbing hand in yours, refuse to eat and you hold Sam’s hand once more. It’s made you think more than you’d like, about time. About stories. Sam shivers, almost like clockwork now. His shirt is baggy against hollow bones and the tattoo on his breast seems wilted, like it won’t offer protection. He whispers too, short sentences you can never grasp.

The only word you’ve ever understood is a drawn out, yearning, “Please.”

There had been an offer of treatment, of safety. But Sam had seen to have found a sanctity in his suffering, he tells himself it’s a blessing, reminding him his limbs still ached, his body still yearned. Sam spits at the feet of his saviour and is rewarded with a harsh whip-like slap across his cheek.

He crumbles, rocks slipping from a cliff face, and grows still. “Sam?” You whisper, afraid. You were afraid most days now. 

There’s a moment, then a breath and you lean forward to brush the hair from his eyes. Dean would know what to do - he had always known. Instead you hold his hand again, there’s not much else you can do.

The woman in the corner weeps. It had been the first time she had dared to make a sound, perhaps the violence had scared her.

“Oh, my dear.” Lori speaks soothingly, smiling with bared teeth of mock sympathy. “Come along, let’s calm you down.”

The words feel like an attempt to cajole a scared kitten, but the glint in her eyes shines radiant in the dark. You and Sam don’t see the woman again.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

“Where do you think he is?” Sam asks, leaning against the bars. A welt has risen on his face and a large cut streaks across his angled cheek from Lori’s ring. He looks like a corpse, a victim of an illness that never stops taking.

You don’t reply, he nods. Every so often, Sam holds your hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb, and you’d be Hero once more, seeing Leander for the first time at the festival. Though, he lets go eventually (he always did) and as he pulls away, his livelihood drowns - searchlight fading.

In the evening, careful hands guid you up the stairs once more, careful not to touch the raw skin around the handcuffs. Hunger picks at you, stretching your skin over your bones. You look at Sam, allowing a mournful sigh to escape from you. The both of you are dying, it’s something you have accepted, but you can’t bear the thought that he’ll die before you.

You’ve listed every single thing that changed in your mind, every time he shivers, every time the bags under his eyes darken. Maybe it’s become a way to cope. The both of you sit and Sam’s near shoulder length hair falls in front of his eyes - it was an indication of how much time has passed. The both of you have no choice tonight, you have to eat.

This was the choice. You sit, silent, and know that you are giving in to the final piece of defiance you have. You watch while self-loathing washes over Sam’s face as he too is forced to make the same choice, his body weaker than his mind. This is the choice; let go of your morals. Or die.

It’s almost funny how quickly morals leave you in the face of death.

You find there’s no way to delay it either. You have already analysed every movement of Lori’s. Every breath is calculated, every smile is vicious and hungry. So, with one final look toward your closest friend, you bite into the grey meat, the taste of something akin to pork overwhelming you. It’s stringy, but it still tastes like the best thing you had ever eaten - perhaps it was the amount of time you had had in between meals. You take a bite of the mash on the side and feel something cold and metallic in your mouth.

You breathe in sharply and sit in place, slowly moving your hand toward your mouth. There’s a moment of emptiness before your realisation, a stillness as you hope the silver cross necklace you had pulled from your teeth did not mean what you thought it did. You release a shaky breath and hold a hand to your mouth, feeling sick to your stomach.

You had eaten her.

“Sam.”

The whisper is almost inaudible. You’d never spoken at the table before and, though it was allowed, you feel as though you’re breaking a rule. He looks up and his eyes widen, seeing how quickly your face has paled. You look down at the plate, then back at him, shaking your head in a warning motion.

It’s only now he sees the necklace in your palm, pieces of dried blood sticking to it. Lori hadn’t even bothered to clean it - she had probably meant to throw it away. You lean back in your chair, looking out the window to your left and seeing how the trees stretch for miles past it, leaves heavy with snow. You weren’t sure when it had snowed. You try not to cry.

“Are you alright dear?” Lori asks, tension cutting across the room. Your head turns slowly, tears falling down your cheeks like hot tar, eyes wide, sucking in quick breaths. Sam seems scared - you look animalistic.

You hold up the necklace. “Did you make us eat her?” Your voice is unnatural, toneless and uncaring - a stark difference to the look on your face. Lori smiles. All she ever fucking does is smile.

You stare silently, face set with fear as she approaches, placing a manicured and veiny hand on your shallow cheek. You turn your head to the side, but her hand never leaves your face.

“Did you enjoy it?” It almost wasn’t a question - not when she knew the answer. You turn back to face her and her hand moves across your face, coming to rest by the corner of your mouth.

If you were to be treated like some kind of animal, that’s what she’d receive. You bite down hard, ignoring the scream as your teeth carve through her finger. You get to bone and pull, degloving the skin and muscle from her finger and holding it in your mouth like a dog. Then, just as she looks back to you, you spit it onto your plate with an almost smile.

Sam looks at you with an unreadable expression. You meet his eyes, ignore the feeling that settles in your stomach and simply reply, “We’re done with our meal.”

Lori pushes you down the staircase and into one singular cage, being in too much pain to open each individually. This is your plan. She closes the doors and snaps the keys. This is your plan.

Sam is withering, flu-like and scared. “Why?” he asks quietly, moving from your arms. “Why would you do that?” his eyes are wide, begging. Tears litter his cheeks. He’s given up thinking there’s a way to be saved. He’s grown accustomed to dying behind rusted metal bars.

You don’t reply and with blood stained lips you kiss him, trying to offer reassurance. He returns your kiss with a sigh, his pained fever making his skin hot to touch. He leans into you, hands holding your waist as if you’d disappear. You pull away and cradle him, gently brushing shaking hands through his hair. You kiss his forehead every now and then, staining his skin with darkening red.

Everything about you is strangely calm. You don’t fear Lori, not now you have seen her bleed. She could die. She would. You fall asleep almost smiling; she would, she would.

Lori wakes you in the early morning, hand bandaged and face stern. There’s no more smiling. Thank God. Your confidence chipped at her, annoyed her. It’s your turn to smile now. She unlocks the cage to move you to your own - you knew she’d had a spare key, she loved theatrics. As soon as you stand to move to your own cage you sprint, knocking her to the floor.

You knew you would’ve won, but weak monsters always bring a weapon when they feared the Hero the most. Though, you refuse to be Hero. There is no Leander, there is no searchlight. It’s you and Sam: wild eyes, knotted hair and blood stains. 

A knife pushes you off of her, sinking itself into your abdomen with aim and anger. Lori had known you’d bite again.

Your breath escapes you, blood seeping from your sullen skin. You fall into the agony, screaming out to the sky. It’s not the single cut that would’ve killed you, it's the anger. Lori stands now, placing a foot against your throat. “A rabid dog bites three times before it’s greeted with death's hands, a rabid human? They get one chance.” She whispers, her words distant.

Behind the both of you, Sam slowly rises, hands clenched in fists, teeth baring. Her head hits the floor first, a horrible crack echoing in the basement. Screams had a way of sinking into you, biting at your heart, but these made you strong. You stand beside Sam as he hits her, ripping the fabric of your large jacket to tie around your wound.

You let him kill her.

Sam lifts you up the stairs and you help him walk through the cold, each taking turns to keep the other alive. You walk through the snow, damp and ripped clothes doing nothing to keep you warm. It feels as though it’s been hours and eventually, Sam collapses into you, the both of you falling to the soft snow. 

He kneels forward into you and you hold his face gently. The image was almost too familiar; Sam falling into the arms of someone he loves, face slick with tears and body weak. He had died too much already, you wouldn’t let it happen again.

You kiss his jawline so softly it might’ve been a snowflake landing on his bruised skin and he lifts his head. “Sorry.” he mutters repeatedly, a slurry of vowels and tears. You don’t dare to shush him, it wouldn’t help anything, it wouldn’t stop him. “I’m so sorry.”

You kiss him again. “None of this was ever your fault,” You whisper, voice tired and teeth stained. After a while, you try to move again, stumbling over only the iced floor. There’s a cough from Sam that pushes blood to his mouth, then he’s losing his footing again and falling into you, his hand pressing into the wound on your abdomen. You cry out, collapsing to the floor, spilling red on the pure white snow.

It’s his turn to hold you now, muttering endless apologies and ripping his own clothes to rebandage you; his skin is pale, a majority of his muscle eaten away by time and hunger. He looked like a corpse. You lie there, cold and silent as his hands shake, tying knots as though it’s routine. He pushes past his own pain, placing a blood stained hand on your cheek and whispering to you. You shiver under his touch and it shocks you how much you’ve missed being near him. You smile gently, and bury your head into his shoulder. The both of you sit there for a while, slowly freezing and holding each other with a softness you hadn’t felt in a while.

Eventually, you reach the road and lean against a barrier, slowly, softly. He kisses your collarbone as he leans into you and you both wait to die.

“I love you.” You whisper, ready to close your eyes and not open them again. He sighs almost contently, his lips finding your skin again. Your fingers were red and sore, blood picking at the frost.

“I love you,” he replies.

Just as the two of you close your eyes with a sad acceptance, there’s a roar of an engine you recognise. The wheels screech, a voice yells, but neither of you respond. Sam’s fallen asleep now and you don’t have the energy to speak. Hands grip your shoulders, press down to stop the flow of blood, scream your name. You can see him in a blur, but there’s not enough in you to react. Your eyes close and it’s something you’re ok with.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖ng 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

You wake up slowly, bleach biting at your nose. The room is stark white and clean - beeping rings in your ears. You’re alone. You climb out of the hospital bed and wince, the wound clean, but still painful. It didn’t take you long for you to find Dean, his voice loud against the hush of the ward. He turns, eyes locking onto you and grins, running over and leaving the doctor he was talking to behind. His arms wrap around you, soft and welcoming. “Thought the both of you had left me. Took me a month and a bit to find you.” He pulls away, smiling, “You’re both too strong, found your own way out.” He’s happy, Sam’s alive.

He sees the look in your eyes, he knows. “He’s inside, not awake yet.” He replies, voice softer now. You spare one more, thankful glance at your best friend and make your way to Sam’s room.

Sam lies there, still and peaceful. His cheeks are brighter and his bones hidden by strength once more. You sit by his side, eyes tired, and wait for him to wake up. He will, he has to. Eventually, sleep takes you and you lean against his bed, head resting on his chest to feel the gentle rise and fall. Your hand holds his, there’s not much else you can do.

“Aren’t you meant to be in your own bed?” A voice asks and your eyes open to see him smiling at you. His hair is brushed back and his skin is clean of dirt. He sounds okay.

You laugh slightly, smiling for the first time in a month and reply, “I had better things to do.” You lean forward, kissing his lips softly, careful not to hurt either of you. He returns the sentiment, hand tying itself into your hair. You hold his face, thumb tracing his jawline, and smile as you pull away.

He stays there, noses touching slightly. You’re centimetres apart. “You’re lucky I’m not infectious.” He whispers. You laugh again and move your hands to gently clasp the back of his neck.

“I wouldn’t care anyway.”

Sam kisses you again.

[ficdirectory]

The Fosters: Our Thoughts on Episode 5x02 “Exterminate Her”

We’re back for more of our thoughts on this week’s Fosters.  As usual, check out @tarajean621‘s thoughts on Jesus and brain injury representation in italics below:

You Know What Could Have Happened, Callie?/Honey, She Was Terrified:  I can totally understand Callie wanting to focus on the good side of things.  I’m sure she is keenly aware of just how badly things could have gone.  And Stef being short with her and Lena taking the time to explain how scared Stef was rings so true to Real Stuff Parents Do.

This Is Nothing to Celebrate!/Surprise!  And, naturally, all the charges are dropped.  But how awkward is this surprise party led by Robert?  Especially Mariana leading her brothers in a rousing chant of “hip hip hooray” because “our sister’s a hero!”  So cute, though.

How Long Are You Gonna Stop Speaking to Your Brother?/How Long Are You Gonna Stop Speaking to Mariana?  I missed this part somehow when it first aired.  

How’s The Treehouse Going?  Has She Taken Over Yet?/No, She Just Found Us a Tree:  Wow, everyone’s crabby today, aren’t they?  Settle down, Emma.  Only a few more days and you can be really far away from Mariana.  (And Jesus.  I wonder how that will go?)

Hey, Can I Talk to You for a Second?/Uh, Yeah, Sure:  I hate that everyone is now actively fearing Jesus.  It’s especially disheartening seeing Mariana react out of fear here.  And the camera stays with Brandon as he jumps and then leaves the table. I’d love for the assumption that Jesus now resides at Intimidation Station to not be a thing.

I have been looking for statistics on how likely it is that people with TBIs assault their caregivers, since this seems to be the slant the writers are taking with 5A.  I could not come up with one link.  

I did, however, find pages of links (over 3 million results) about disabled abuse and victimization.  

One source says that disabled people are 4-10 times more likely to be victims of violence, abuse or neglect than nondisabled people.  It goes on to share why people living with TBIs are likely to encounter victimization - the list includes the use of undue force (which I covered last week when Gabe restrained Jesus), caregivers misperceptions about TBI leading to abuse or not believing us when we report abuse, or having to endure abuse “in return for” help with tasks of daily living.

Definitely.  In just existing as a disabled person and talking to others who are, I can say that everybody I know who is disabled, has, at some point, been abused.  (Usually, this is by a caregiver.)  Another source I found on the maltreatment of children with disabilities states that:

“Children with disabilities may have increased vulnerability to abuse because...[they] may be perceived as less valuable than other children. Their reports may not be considered trustworthy. Discipline may be more punitive and accompanied by a lack of respect.”

So, I’ve Been Thinking and I Wanna Do My Senior Project By Myself/Well, You Can’t:  Um.  Wow, Mariana.  Maybe you should have been honest with Jesus from the start about this.

Yes, this might have been a more timely conversation weeks ago.  Although, it was really up to Moms and Drew to deliver this news to Jesus, so Mariana is not the only one to blame here.

I’m Gonna Talk to Drew Myself and See What He Says:  You pretty much have to, Jesus.  It’s the only way you’re guaranteed the truth.  

But wait, if Jesus speaks to Drew all on his own, who will Drew look to if there is not a suitable nondisabled person present? <-- Sarcasm

Was This Emma’s Idea?/No.  I Just Need to Prove That I Can Do Something on My Own:  Of course, Jesus would feel strongly about this.  His family doesn’t respect him as he is.  It makes sense for him to feel like he has to prove his capability to get them to take him seriously.  Nothing else is working.

Our society views productivity as the be-all and end-all.  You go to school to produce meaningful work so that you can graduate and get a job, thus becoming a contributing member of society.  You are useful and worthy then.  Jesus feels like he needs to produce a meaningful senior project without help to be seen as useful and worthy again.  And it doesn’t hurt that it might earn him points with Emma to distance himself from Mariana.

I Just Wanna Help/I Don’t Need Your Help/Well, We Do/So You Want Me To Go Live with Robert?  Honestly, though, what else is Callie supposed to think?  Moms are pretty much saying she is too much for them and they need backup to handle her.  

Callie, We Love You But There is Only So Much That We Can Do For You:   I guarantee you the only part of Lena’s sentence that Callie heard was “We love you, but...” which feels exactly like, “We don’t love you,” or “We used to love you, but don’t anymore.”  (Please think about what you’re saying Moms, these words will stick.)  

You Need to Decide Who You Want to Be Going Forward, Because This Girl is Not Acceptable:  OMG talk about a back-to-back gut-punch!  Jeez...  What is Callie supposed to do with a statement like this?  She is who she is.  She can’t change who she is.  She has had a ton of stuff happen to her before she ever came to Stef and Lena.  That all impacts who she is and her decision making process.   

This morning I read an article called 3 Reasons Traditional Parenting Doesn’t Work With Kids From Trauma.  Callie has lived months as an adopted child, as opposed to 7 years in foster care.  She is in survival mode all the time, and completely shut down during Moms’ and Robert’s lecture.

I’ve heard similar remarks as an adoptee myself and that is exactly how they resonate.  Moms’ words must feel like such a rejection.

After This Last Thing With Callie, I Just Don’t Know What To Do/I Know That Was So Awful For You.  I’m So Sorry.  How Can I Help?  What Can I Do?  This is probably a bit of a raw wound for me personally, because Stef absolutely needs and deserves comfort.  But it feels so jarring to see this scene after the previous two with Moms and Callie.

Lena excused Stef’s anger at Callie in the car when Stef talked about how Callie could have been beaten or raped (she has experienced both in foster care, Stef.)  Then the lecture.  But we just don’t see that level of love and support for Callie herself.  Nobody is asking Callie “How can I help?”  or “What can I do?”

I Need You to Say You Can’t Help Unless It’s Both Our Projects, Because You Can’t Choose Sides: Mariana, I get that you are always at least 25 billion steps ahead, seeing every possible bad eventuality but you need to try to reign in this impulse to manipulate the adults in your world.  Maybe talk about that in therapy?  (But speaking of Kids Who Came From Trauma...pretty textbook behavior.)

(On the positive side, give Brandon Quinn all the points for the physical comedy of trying to put those jeans on!  So funny!)

He’s Lucky I Didn’t Suspend Him/And You’re Lucky I Don’t Sue You.  And The School:  Yes, Lena!  (Also how gross is that pro-privatization piece in the ABCC school paper?)

Portfolio?/Your Body of Work:  I find it hard to believe that Callie would have zero idea of what a portfolio is, but maybe she doesn’t hang around a lot of art students?

Mariana Just Told Me That This Treehouse Project is Approved for Her and Not Jesus Because He Might Not Be a Senior Next Year?  It was news to me, too, Gabe!  I’ve literally been thinking (for months) that Mariana went in to support Jesus for his senior project.  That it was his meeting.  And that when it was not approved for him that was the end of it, but Mariana couldn’t let it go, so she lied and said it had to be both of their projects.

But Jesus Has No Idea, Right?/We Don’t Want to Frighten Him with All the What-Ifs/Keeping Things From Him Blew Up in a Pretty Big Way:  I mean, Gabe’s not wrong...

Dean Bayfield:  Well, hello, new neighbor.  Looks like Stef’s a little tongue-tied around you...

When Do They Send the Paper to the Printer?/They Already Did/What If It Caught an Error and Sent a New File?  Mariana Adams Foster...put that big, beautiful brain of yours to good use and be careful.  (I’m so proud!  But I’m so conflicted about being proud!)

Pick Up Your Senior Project/Toss It:  This Girl Is Not Acceptable.

The Art Professor...is Gonna Let Me Audit Her Class and Help Me Put Together My Portfolio/That’s Amazing:  This Mama Sandwich for Callie is so bittersweet because she looks so relieved that they still love her.  

Do Think I’d Be Better at Scooping Ice Cream or Flipping Burgers?/That Depends.  You’d Be So Bad at Both:  OMG Callie!  Hahahaha!

Maybe This Could Be My Still Life.  I’m Salty, Right?  Why would she want to find an object that defines her if the girl she is is not acceptable?  No wonder she is struggling so hard with this.

I Used to Blow Dry My Hair Straight, Too, Mariana.  It’s Called Time-Management:  These are the moments that I love.  Because Mariana’s hair is not a lost issue, and Lena remains supportive about it, giving Mariana advice from her own experience.

We Have 5 Teenagers/Oh God Bless You!  We Just Have the One:  Hahaha!  I love Theresa!

A Good Basic Case With All the Essentials:  Can’t go to art school without supplies!  

The Article Doesn’t Appear to Quote You or Anyone on the Administration.  It’s Just One Kid’s Opinion, Right?  OMG Lena, I love you!  Also, check out the screencap Tara got of the article in the Sea Breeze!  Love that it cites IDEA and points out what this article says, in part, which is “ If the private...school does not accept any federal funding, then the school is not required to provide accommodations” to students with disabilities.

What Did You Bring to Sketch?/I Think I’m Just Gonna Sketch My New Art Set:  Because nothing says Callie like an art set you got 10 minutes ago... :(

Grace!  Are You Okay?  Are You Hurt?  Why Are You Handcuffed to the Bed?!  Brandon, your reaction to Grace here was, hands down, my favorite part of the episode.  You give me hope for humanity in this moment.

Otherwise, Why Would You Be Here?  I also love Ximena!  There is such a shortage of positive female friendships depicted on TV that I would love to see Callie and Ximena develop one.  But it looks like Ximena’s complimentary question to Callie isn’t sitting quite right...

It’s For This Foster Family That Has, Like 12 Kids.  Some of Them Are Special Needs:  First of all, it seems illegal that one family would have 12 foster kids at once?  And secondly?  Pretty much no one in the disability community likes the term ‘special needs.’  

Since I Got This TBI, People Treat Me Like I’M Special Needs:  So revealing there, Jesus.  I always say, the hardest part about being disabled isn’t the disability, it’s the way we’re treated as inferior.  I imagine that dealing with a sudden disability as Jesus is, that feeling is even stronger.  (And I can’t shake the feeling that the ‘people’ Jesus is referring to is his family.  And honestly, nobody should be treated like they’re less when they’re disabled, especially by family.  It’s bad enough to experience it in general society.)

Having a brain injury is not a bad thing, but it does take some adjustment.  The way Jesus says, “People treat me like I am special needs” is revealing, as Tonia pointed out.  People treat him like a pile of unreasonable demands - like a list of symptoms - instead of as a human being who has a brain injury.

Talk to Your Moms/All They Do is Lie to Me and Keep Secrets.  They Aren’t Going to Tell Me.  So, What Is It? I can’t say I wouldn’t be making the same call Gabe ends up making here...and so far, Gabe is one person whose ableism is at a minimum, and Jesus feels that.  He feels respected by Gabe.  His experience with Moms post-TBI has been that they treat him as less now.  They have lied to him and he doesn’t need anymore of that.  He’s out of the woods, healthwise, he doesn’t need to be ‘protected’ in this manner.

No Longer Funding Any Junior Student’s Senior Projects: Of course you aren’t, Drew...

Did You Talk to My Father?  Robert Quinn?  Oh Lordy, this isn’t gonna end well, is it?  How humiliating for Callie.  Like she needs Robert calling in favors for her to get to audit art school class...

I’m Not Gonna Be a Senior Next Year?/We Don’t Know That, Jesus:  Now Jesus knows, and Stef still won’t give him a straight answer?  Really?  At least tell him what you DO know...

Also, inquiring minds would like to know what IS happening with regard to Jesus and school?  Stef and Lena are both back at work and Jesus is home all day, talking to Gabe as he builds the treehouse.  Lena’s an educator.  School is always on this family’s radar.  Even if Jesus isn’t ready for full days, I’d think a teacher coming to the house for a bit wouldn’t be out of the question.  But school hasn’t even been mentioned by Moms except to say that Jesus is missing a lot, and taking Drew of all people as the expert on post-brain-injury reentry to school.

Jesus, I Need You To Calm Down/No, I Am Not Going To Calm Down/Then You Can Go To Your Room Until You Are Willing To Listen To Me. Now:  

In my opinion, Jesus is not out of bounds or out of control here.  He has a right to be upset, but Stef sends him away.  (Instead of sending Gabe and/or Mariana away so she can have a private conversation with Jesus.)  She tells him to leave until he is willing to listen to her - but Stef is in no way willing to be around his feelings in this moment.

Too often, disabled people are expected to “be nice” in the face of ableism.  And let’s be clear, not telling Jesus about what is going on with his schooling is ableism.  Dismissing Jesus’s current upset?  Also ableism.  

If any of the other kids found out Moms withheld information for weeks about them possibly not being promoted a grade, upset would be an expected reaction.  In Jesus’s case, it is not justified in Mom’s eyes.

I’m Not Going Up There With Him!  Did You See What He Did to Brandon’s Room?  What If He Takes a Baseball Bat to My Head?  Kids learn ableism from their parents...and Stef doesn’t refute Mariana here...  So harmful.  (And also - if Mariana isn’t comfortable going upstairs, the least Stef could do is tell her to go to the living room or something.  Anything so she is not right there when Stef tells Gabe that if he can’t respect Stef and Lena’s authority as the twins’ parents, he’ll have to leave.  Awkward.  And not a conversation for one of the kids to overhear.)

Is This a Bad Time?/Jesus is Up in His Room and I’m Sure He Would Love to See You Right About Now:  Um...  If Jesus is supposed to be being punished or taking a break or whatever, why would you send Emma up there?  (But I have a pretty good idea why.  Disability as a Plot Device, anyone?  Because up until now, Emma was the only person who wasn’t fearful of Jesus.  The choice to send her up there just to witness Jesus throwing things is a conscious choice to continue his ostracization and isolation.  To make sure he has no one to turn to or lean on.  

Notice how this “outburst” comes immediately after being dismissed.  

Also, here is another example of how traditional parenting does not work on kids with traumatic backgrounds.  And a Traumatic Brain Injury is yet another trauma for Jesus to juggle, in addition to his unstable infancy and childhood (until age 8).  Sending Jesus to his room just drives home the fact that he, like Callie, is seen as unacceptable now.   

I Wish I Had Somewhere to Unleash My Beast/You Do.  Your Art:  Jesus, do you hear this?  You and Callie could totally channel all your feelings into art.  That’s what it’s there for, and you’re both good at it.  (I’d actually really like to see this!)

How Did Your Job Interview Go?/I Was Late So I Probably Didn’t Make a Great First Impression:  Yeah, like when your girlfriend calls you with fake emergencies when she KNOWS you have a job interview soon...

Pretty Sure She Was Trying to Have Sex With You/Oh, My God:  I loved this!  Rang so true to me that the adopted kid would totally get what Grace was trying to do with Brandon while Brandon remained innocently oblivious...

I Wanna Try to Be a Senior Next Year, Even If That Means I Have to Go to Summer School/Honey, That’s Really Great to Hear, But Your Senior Project Will Have to Wait Until Then:  Okay but Jesus literally did not say anything about his senior project.  He’s talking about his education right now.  Why does no one take him seriously?  (Oh wait, I know...)

“That’s really great to hear.” What does that even mean?  “That’s really great to hear that you still desire and value an education even though you have a brain injury?” 

It sounds as if that was Lena’s way of possibly skirting the education conversation.   

Because I Got Mad?  Are You Punishing Me?  Of course, it feels like a punishment.

Drew’s Not Funding Any Senior Projects by Juniors/You’re Lying:  Moms, remember Stef’s brilliant take on ‘trust has to be earned?’  I feel like it’s time to work on starting to earn Jesus’s.  Because right now, he can’t trust anything you say, and why should he? 

Also, I’m pretty sure Monte said last episode that Drew isn’t the principal because she hasn’t yet resigned.  So...why is the vote invalid but his word about Jesus’s senior project like signed, sealed and notarized by a judge?)

I Could Probably Get Jesus’s Uncle to Donate/Birth Uncle: This is interesting, because we watched this episode with a friend who adopted her daughter.  And she specifically commented on this scene.  Said she never corrects her daughter when she wonders about her birth mother.  And she felt it was out of place for Moms to correct Gabe here.

I Do Wanna Keep My Senior Project/We Took It to the Dumpster Already:  Ouch, Callie :(

I Didn’t Give Her Any Money, I Just Asked Her to Give You a Chance, But Only If She Believes in You, Which, Obviously, She Does/You Don’t:  Bam.  It’s truth time, by Callie.  And that really is what Robert’s actions communicated.  Instead of helping with her or giving her advice on what to do next, he went behind her back and appealed to the teacher’s pity, and that never feels good.

I Know You All Think That I’m Unacceptable/That’s Not What We Meant/It’s What You Said:  Right, Callie?  And no matter how many other times she is affirmed, those words will be inside her, challenging the love she’s shown.  It’s this thing: anger resonates as the “truest” feeling, while love feels forced.  It’s hard to explain...

When You First Met Me You Told Me I Wasn’t Disposable and I’m Really Trying to Believe That:  We keep track of every single word.

We Don’t Want You to Throw Away Your Past, We Just Want You to Stop Repeating It:  But that might not be entirely in Callie’s control.  How often do we rehash or recreate an aspect of our past in an effort to work through it, or because it feels familiar and that feels safe?  Moms want Callie to feel safe, but safe is new.  And it’s going to take some getting used to.  (Also I’m really glad Lena rescued Callie’s senior project from gettting thrown away.)

So, I’m Not Going to See You Before You Go?/I’m Sorry/I Love--:  Emma’s pulling away so hard and fast.  This sucks.

I really hope that this whole Aggression Is A Symptom storyline does not end up Teaching Jesus A Lesson.

Did Mamas Talk to You About The Treehouse?/I’m Gonna Ask Emma to Do It With Me...If That’s Okay:  Ugh, and the twins aren’t getting along still.  And at this point it seems like working with Emma on the treehouse this year or next is gonna be a bust...

Not being able to connect after an injury is a thing, and I appreciate that it is being depicted.  To add to Tonia’s comment about Emma, we don’t know what is going to happen with them.  He is trying to make things work with his girlfriend while putting Mariana in her place.  We will have to see what happens...

I Guess I Shouldn’t Have Read Fifty Shades of Grey:  Oh, Grace, what a terrible book!

I Don’t Know Where The Keys Are.  I Think They’re Over Here/Okay, I’m Coming:  Hahaha!  Don’t play with handcuffs, Brandon and Grace...or Stef will have to come unlock you...and wouldn’t that be embarrassing?

Fearless:  I love Callie showing Ximena her necklace from her mom as her object for her Still Life and I love Ximena’s reaction to it!

Tess/Oh, My God!  Stef!  So, I was in the shower, the morning after this aired, and it occurred to me.  The thing that everybody already knows about who Tess is.  But in case someone hasn’t made the connection.  I realized Tess was Stef’s high school friend who she was cuddling and got caught by Stef’s dad.  Also the reason Stef was sent by her dad to see a priest, who told her being gay was a sin (episode 1x06, I believe.)

For more: Fosters Recaps

[withering-the-comic]

prologue | part one : pages 25-28  |  posting schedule

[image description for vision-impaired readers below the cut]

PAGE TWENTY-FIVE

Finally at the end of his sleepy walk through Bayfield, Castiel arrives at his destination–Elevenses. The coffee shop’s name is written across the window and the door in a curling, almost Elvish script, and a couple of posters decorate the glass. One reads; HOT CHOCO IS LIKE ROLLING AN EASY 20, and is decorated with a single die. The other reads; Dungeons & Dragons Every Wednesday at 8pm - ALL WELCOME!

On the pavement beside the door is a water bowl, labeled Let your dog drink here! A single tree grows nearby.

As Castiel opens the door, we get our first peek inside at the bookshelves that fill the coffee shop.

At the counter, Charlie Bradbury, wearing an apron over her Super Mario t-shirt and Deathly Hallows pendant, serves coffee and pastries to a customer. Behind her, a menu decorated with a drawing of the Vulcan salute offers an assortment of themed tea and coffee. 

It reads:

WE <3 CARRIE FISHER (iced tea, green apple) WINTER IS COMING (iced caramel macchiato, cinnamon)

FANDOM FAVORITES

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE (blueberry-lavender tea, honey) MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (pumpkin spice latte) HOGWARTS!AU (butterbeer, alcohol free or not) CHRISTMAS FIC (cinnamon spiced latte, honey) MUTUAL PINING - FOR FIRST DATES! (2 mugs of Americano for the $ of 1) NSFW (spicy hot chocolate, chili peppers)

Beside the menu, two posters are pinned to the wall. One is handwritten, and advertises FANFIC NIGHT! On Fridays; the other is a licensed poster for one of Castiel’s books, A Length of Rope.

The counter itself is set on top of a bookshelf, packed with sci-fi and fantasy novels, and a small flower in a pot marked with a crown acts as a book-end.

Opposite, an empty pastry stand is labeled with a handwritten note; PIES ARE SOLD OUT (thanks Dean :P) followed by another encouraging Elevenses patrons to adopt a cactus at Winchester Flowers and Plants. 

The tip jar is labeled HAIL THE HYPNOTOAD.

PAGE TWENTY-SIX

The bell over the door jingles as Castiel walks the rest of the way inside, and the other customer leaves. Charlie, now tidying up, glances up at the sound. She smiles, delighted, when she sees who it is.

Charlie: Cas!

Castiel: Hello, Charlie.

Charlie hurries over to tackle him in a tight hug, and Castiel returns it warmly.

Charlie: I’m so glad you’re finally here! I missed you.

Castiel: I arrived three days ago.

Charlie: And you’ve been a hermit since. Doesn’t count.

PAGE TWENTY-SEVEN

As they catch up, Charlie grips Castiel by the shoulders. He smiles down at her, happy to see his old friend after a long separation.

Charlie: Has it really been five years since I saw you in person?

Castiel: Six, I think.

Charlie: Now I feel old.

Castiel: I suspect an aged pension is just around the corner.

She shoots him an exasperated look.

Charlie: Don’t make me regret convincing you to move here.

Castiel smirks at her. As Charlie heads over to the counter, he moves toward a table to sit.

Castiel: You’re right. I should leave that to Gabriel.

PAGE TWENTY-EIGHT

He doesn’t get far before he notices the books at the counter, and after leaving his laptop bag to hang over the back of a nearby chair, he goes back to look at them more closely.

Along the top, bookended by the potted flower, is a collection of Castiel’s work.

Faded Grace. Perdition. A Length of Rope. Darkside. The Big Empty. Ring of Fire. Profess Your Love.  

The back cover of The Big Empty is printed with a quote from the New York Times review–”Scary and sexy. Can’t get better than this.”

Amused and flattered–but mostly to be a pain–Castiel picks up A Length of Rope and smirks at Charlie.

Castiel: Then again, I doubt my biggest fan would ever really want me to leave.

Charlie feigns annoyance as she responds.

Charlie: Smartasses don’t get free coffee.

The threat would be more convincing if she wasn’t bringing him coffee while she said it.

[plungermusic]

“Kinda bent, but we ain’t breakin’… in the long run”

Maverick Saturday stretched out before us like a challenge - thirteen hours is a long time on your feet for a couple of oldsters, but we’d give it our best shot…

We didn’t catch all of Dan Walsh’s opening Barn set, but his closing number, a lyrical, backwoods folk-flavoured instrumental that peaked in an increasingly frenetic celtic reel to the whoops and stomps of the crowd, was enough to impress us with its fleet-fingered dexterity.

Kelly Bayfield made her second barn appearance with another stylish set drawn from the new album: Kelly taking to the piano to give us a new short number Sing which was twinned (“well, they’re a similar flavour, and in the same key!”) with her last single Hitchhiker, both oozing classy 70s chanteuse vibes and the latter closing in some great Telecaster work from Andy Trill in a majestic closing solo.

There’s not much that’d drag us away from a Kelly performance early, but having spotted his programme picture (“Long hair, Les Paul? That’ll do!”) we pottered down to the open air Green Stage for David Banks and his band. He did exactly what we thought it said on the tin: lots of Springsteen/Petty influenced muscular Americana with a dash of Molly Hatchett topped with excellent southern-fried guitar and classic ‘big endings’… marvellous.

He was followed by Simon Stanley Ward (another ‘old fave’) who brought his Jonathan Richmanish irreverence and wit to Old Time Country in Excuse Me While I Feel Sorry For Myself; the Graceland-African-style I’m A Worrier (”…that’s worrier, not warrior”) a swinging rock’n’roller Bigfoot, Baby (Eddie Cochran meets cryptobiology) and Rocket In The Desert (the salad leaf not the projectile) with its Lawrence Of Arabia theme tease. While lampooning his own assumed-Nashville twang in American Voice the accompaniment was as echt as you could want, and the deadpan humour of Beluga Whale was sung to a properly stirring Journeyesque anthem.

As it wasn’t raining The Green seemed the place to stay, where Forty Elephant Gang came next. Reviewing their album we were a little sniffy about their ‘crowd-pleasing festival songs’ but aside from the field holler-meets-O Brother Where Art Thou-style Songs Of Praise, this set was mostly the ones we’d liked: the relaxed Tex-Mex of Strange Things Happening with three-part harmonies and intertwining mando’n’guitar lines; the melancholic waltz of Young Man’s Game and the Squeeze-y domestic wit of Drunken Promise Song. A final ‘crowd-pleaser’ came in the chugging bluesy Hands Out Your Pockets, an instruction the assembled masses eagerly followed to add the required clap-along.

Sam Chase Trio made another appearance at The Green, wooing the larger crowd with both edgy humour (including praising UK portaloos in comparison to US versions, and introducing Everyone Is Crazy But Me as “a children’s song... now, what they mean is that it’s simple, since kids are generally at the dumber end of the spectrum”), and songs as varied as the fiery protest of What Is All The Rage and the haunting, wistful Lost Girl, (from the “Faustian Spaghetti Western Of Epic Proportions Known As The Last Rites Of Dallas Pistol”) sung by cellist Devon.

Now Plunger do like a bit of bluegrass, whether it’s grainy b/w Flatt & Scruggs clips from the 50s, through Sam Bush and New Grass to Béla Fleck and Greensky Bluegrass so The Folly Brothers should have been our kind of thing… however what we heard of them was more My Old Man’s A Dustman than anything Appalachian so we wandered off…

Back at The Barn Dean Owens and the Southerners drew a large and attentive crowd, but the popular Scot also left us a bit underwhelmed. Mellow, melodious troubadoury country that wouldn’t have been out of place on a mid-afternoon 70s Radio 2 show, the kind of thing that takes a deep listen in your bedroom to appreciate the stories told: very easy on the ear for sure but without any particular thing to grab us at a festival.

After an abortive attempt to catch Ella Spencer and her accompanist at The Moonshine (an extremely long soundcheck with problems with feedback from pretty much everything they touched meant we gave up) we caught a snatch of Los Pistoleros as we rounded The Green: probably the most C.O.U.N.T.R.Y. thing of the weekend, complete with draggy fiddle, pedal steel and old time vocal harmonies… if I’d not left my cowboy boots at home I’d have been out line-dancing with the best of them.

Plunger had only just seen Alyssa Bonagura (with Tim De Graaw’s band) less than a week since. Here at The Barn she was nominally solo but Tim joined her to add sweet harmonies and mellow guitar to Alyssa’s polished Cali-country: her strong yet ethereal vocal equally at home in slow emotional confessionals or giggly upbeat Big Yellow Taxi-style big strummers.

Listed only as ‘Dogs Play Dead’ it was only a lucky guess that took us down to The Green for what turned out to be Friday’s headliners Black Eyed Dogs playing a set of Grateful Dead classics. Mainly those with a countryish twist to them already, like Casey Jones, I Know You Rider and Friend Of The Devil; and bringing that flavour with fiddle and pedal steel to others like Truckin’, China Cat Sunflower, Playing In The Band and the epic closing Franklin’s Tower. All done with the right degree of loose, shambling rhythms and discursive noodling on guitar (and fiddle!) Fabulous stuff for grooving on the grass under what by now were glorious sunshine-filled blue skies.

Brooks Williams’ jangly sonorous acoustic and warm, smooth higher register vox was ideal early evening fare at the barn, in covers like Dave Alvin’s King Of California, traditional numbers like Deep River Blues and originals like the Gordon Lightfootish melancholy of Frank Delandry, and the damp-eyed nostalgia of Palomino Gold, aided toward the end of his set by some more excellent banjo from Dan Walsh.

The USP of Eddy Smith & the 507 is Eddy’s gravelly soulful voice, ideal for their bluesy-edged material, like the harp-led strut of It Don’t Feel Much Like Living and the new single Ticket Out Of Here, a bustling two-step with impressive three-part harmony vocals. They definitely have moved up a level since we last saw them a couple of years back.

Somehow we managed to miss Sarah Petite with her band completely on Friday, and almost all of her stripped-back Moonshine set on Saturday. Which was definitely our loss gauging by the brief snatch of crackling husky vocal over restrained bass and reverb laden guitar that we heard while hunting for a still-open toilet (a water supply problem having rendered all loos unusable for a considerable portion of the late evening... pretty much the only fly in the ointment all weekend!)

As the sun set the two-month date differential was beginning to tell: clear night skies in September aren’t quite the same as July and the growing chill was testing our stamina a bit. We headed for The Peacock and the tribute show to John Prine, hosted by Rich Hall. Pretty much every act who was on site came to do a turn in honour of the recently-deceased songwriting legend, with their own favourite from his oeuvre. Kelly Bayfield band gave us Hello In There, Tim De Graaw with Alyssa did That’s The Way The World Goes Round, Alyssa gave us the obligatory Angel From Montgomery, and Simon Stanley Ward (plus Kelly) gave a fantastic rollicking Lake Marie. Entirely in character, Sam Chase Trio broke the mould and gave us their own tribute song John Prine.

Rich Hall had to skip out on MC duties to attend his own set at The Barn: sacrilege to say, but the appeal of stand up (even to music, even from such a big name) palled a little. It was getting bitterly cold (you could see your breath hanging in the air) and given that what we could hear of his set was the same as we’d heard last time he was here we spent much the time attempting to warm up with piping hot beverages. However it was by far the rammedest set of the weekend, with the tightly-packed crowd spilling out of The Barn for some distance.

Jon Langford was unsurprisingly somewhat hindered by the draw of Rich Hall (which left The Peacock a bit underpopulated!) His spiky, punky approach wasn’t entirely our bowl of chilli, although the rendition of Eddie Waring (originally by Help Yourself with Deke Leonard and BJ Cole, who was sitting in with Jon tonight) was very good.

The programme description of headliner Jerry Joseph did its best to weaken our staying power too: with our deep suspicion of any write-ups that include the ‘p-word’, and somewhat incredulous of the mention of ‘jam bands’, Jerry looked like he wouldn’t be our kind of thing at all. However he didn’t live down to expectations (wholly). A very animated stage-prowling audience-provoking figure in shorts and no shoes, there was no shortage of energy even if it was largely unchannelled and could get a little wearing… (maybe it was that, maybe it was the chill, but The Barn steadily thinned out during his set, ending less than half full). War At The End Of The World was the pick of the bunch, although like most of his material it would probably have sounded better with a band (like, erm, Stockholm Syndrome, which he co-founded; or, erm, Widespread Panic who he has written for… so much for our ‘jamband incredulity’!)

While it might have ended as a bit of a test of endurance, there were more than enough high points to make Saturday another enjoyable Maverick experience.

“Did we do it for love? Did we do it for money? More like stubborn dumb persistence and hot chocolate, honey…”

[karingudino]

New garden takes root in Bayfield with focus on healthy ingredients, food security

Pine River Shares is taking up meals insecurity in japanese La Plata County with the assistance of a brand new, sustainable meals backyard.

The backyard’s produce will add contemporary, wholesome components to the nonprofit’s weekly meals share packages in Bayfield and Ignacio. Already, apple timber and garlic are taking root on the Bayfield Schooling Middle, dwelling of Pine River Shares, with the assistance of neighborhood volunteers and college students.

“Everybody deserves entry to wholesome, sustainably raised meals,” stated Halie Forsthoff, dean of the Bayfield Faculty District Wolverine Academy.

Final week, college students on the academy, a project-based studying program, planted 20 apple timber within the backyard. Group volunteers additionally put in backyard beds close to the orchard and planted garlic this spring, Forsthoff stated.

Armondo Dominguez and Grace Smith, each college students at Wolverine Academy, water the newly planted timber Tuesday within the Pine River Shares backyard in Bayfield. The backyard makes use of sustainable, closed-loop permaculture rising methods.

Jerry McBride/Durango Herald

New backyard takes root in Bayfield with give attention to wholesome components, meals safety

Armondo Dominguez and Grace Smith, each college students at Wolverine Academy, water the newly planted timber Tuesday within the Pine River Shares backyard in Bayfield. The backyard makes use of sustainable, closed-loop permaculture rising methods.

Jerry McBride/Durango Herald

The backyard is a part of the Pine River Shares Area to Fork challenge, which launched in 2017. It drew enter from 200 locals to ascertain a sustainable meals system that meets the wants of the world’s 14,000 residents.

The brand new backyard, which makes use of permaculture rising strategies, might be a spot the place residents can study meals manufacturing at dwelling by means of instructional neighborhood work days.

This summer time, Pine River Shares plans to put in a 35-foot develop dome, which suggests year-round meals manufacturing for food-insecure households and seed begins for the neighborhood.

“Many individuals don’t essentially develop up gardening or concerned in meals manufacturing, and this challenge makes this information extra accessible,” Forsthoff stated. “Reaping the scrumptious advantages, or generally studying from the failures, teaches us many classes about ourselves … but additionally teaches us to understand our ties to the land.”

Straw covers garlic planted Tuesday within the Pine River Shares backyard in Bayfield. Produce from the backyard might be used within the nonprofit’s meals share packages.

Jerry McBride/Durango Herald

New backyard takes root in Bayfield with give attention to wholesome components, meals safety

Straw covers garlic planted Tuesday within the Pine River Shares backyard in Bayfield. Produce from the backyard might be used within the nonprofit’s meals share packages.

Jerry McBride/Durango Herald

The Wolverine Academy college students are serving to to extend public consciousness about meals insecurity within the area, she stated.

College students are researching the primary components that contribute to native meals insecurity and the right way to resolve these issues. They plan to share their findings with the general public by means of the backyard challenge.

“Sadly, in our nation, meals insecurity tends to coincide with weight problems on account of overreliance on processed meals,” Forsthoff stated. “Processed meals take pleasure in being cheaper and lasting longer than contemporary alternate options, however the Area to Fork challenge goals to reverse this notion, which I imagine is vital to rising meals safety.”

The Colorado Well being Basis offered a $25,000 grant for the backyard challenge, whereas the develop dome might be bought utilizing cash raised by area people members.

smullane@durangoherald.com

Source link

source https://fikiss.net/new-garden-takes-root-in-bayfield-with-focus-on-healthy-ingredients-food-security/ New garden takes root in Bayfield with focus on healthy ingredients, food security published first on https://fikiss.net/ from Karin Gudino https://karingudino.blogspot.com/2021/04/new-garden-takes-root-in-bayfield-with.html

[just-another-winchester]

Kappa We All Just Get Along?

Series Summary: You didn’t have the easiest life, after losing your family you escaped everything you knew and went on the run. You were young and alone, until you meet the Winchesters, a long overdue meeting. Now together the three of you will face adventure, horror, romance and suspense. The Winchesters become your lifeline, and you become theirs. But you have no idea what kind of adventures you’re really in for.

Word Count: 2,269

Warnings: None

Chapter Summary: You and the Winchesters caught wind of a case and head to Bayfield, Wisconsin to investigate a little girls stolen horse and some strange deaths.

A/N:  Another huge thanks to my girl @amanda-teaches for being my beta editor. Part 2 is coming soon. I'm having so much fun writing this! Thank you guys for your support! Love you all and hope you enjoy this chapter! FEEDBACK IS MY SUSTENANCE!!!

Catch Up Ya’ll!! MASTERPOST

You could remember Your family reminding You to take baby steps… of course that was when you had a family that weren’t two crazy monster killing men.

Sam and Dean Winchester were a force to be reckoned with, that much you had gathered before meeting them, but you were just as stubborn as the two of them combined, which, in the long run, meant that they had no chance.

“And, why can’t I go out with you guys?” you demanded.

At the moment, the three of you were sitting in their motel room somewhere in Iowa.

For the past month and a half, you had been with the boys, but Dean insisted you stay at the motel and do the research. You were literally on lockdown, and although you loved the man, you wanted to hold a pillow to his face til he stopped breathing.

“We’ve been over this Y/N, we don’t need your blood on our hands,” he said.

“Did you forget that I spent more than ten years on my own? With nothing but a kitchen knife? Literally living on the streets? Dean, I know how to take care of myself. You taught me how to fight yourself,” you insisted, practically desperate to get the hell out of the damn motel.

Dean shook his head again, his green eyes settled on you with a hard look of determination.

Sam sat quietly on his bed, letting the two of you hash it out, just waiting to see who came out on top. You figured he was betting on his big bro, well… you would make sure he would come to regret that wager.

“Okay, first of all, teaching, not taught. You still can’t fight, and second, did you forget you also told me you weren’t intentionally seeking out monsters? It’s dangerous for you right now, Y/N. You’re not a hunter, you’ve admitted that to me yourself. I made my decision, and I’m not changing it, so stop whining,” he said to you, making you even more tempted to grab that pillow.

“Dean-” you tried, but he cut you off

“Y/N,” he warned, giving you a steely glare, “I’m not kidding. You’re staying in the room, end of discussion. You’re the one that wanted to come along with us and we let you, so you play by our rules,” his words sent a pang of irritation through you.

“Sam?” you said, looking to the man. Sam looked up from his laptop and gave you a shrug.

“I think you should be able to go,” he said honestly. You were ready to strangle him for not speaking up earlier.

“Excuse me?” Dean demanded, turning to his brother. You sat back and decided to watch the two of them.

“What? She’s proven herself capable every step of the way, she should be able to go on a hunt with us,” Sam informed Dean, causing the hunter to glare at his younger brother before turning back to you.

“No,” he said coldly. You huffed, crossing your arms. “So then we’re not playing by ‘your’ rules,” you said to him, gesturing between him and Sam, “we’re playing by ‘your’ rules,” you finished, pointing at Dean.

“Yeah,” he admitted, looking at you. “And my rules are gonna keep you safe. I’m not telling you that you can never go on a hunt with us, it’s just easier if you stay here and do the research like you have been.”

You wanted nothing more than to argue further with him, but you couldn’t deny he was right before. You had agreed to abide by their rules, whether those rules were Sam and Dean’s, or just Dean’s. You weren’t happy about it, but you would let it go for now.

Deciding to move on from the argument, you turned to Sam, raising your brow.

“Okay, so what is this case?” you asked the tall man. Sam sat up and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

“Little girl, Diana Greene. One of the horses from her family’s ranch went missing. Apparently, Diana says it was a theft, she says she saw a giant frog steal her horse.”

You frowned, cocking your head slightly. “Oh wow, okay. That… yeah I have nothing to say to that. Alright, I’ll go grab my stuff.” You sighed, leaving the room to gather your things.

Dean’s Pov

Y/N left the room to pack her things while Dean sighed, watching her leave. The girl was more trouble than he’d thought, and way more stubborn than he’d given her credit for. He looked over at Sam, ready to tear into the guy for not backing him up.

“What the hell was that?” Dean demanded of his little brother. Sammy looked up at Dean. He sighed and shook his head.

“Dean, she’s not four. She could help us out,” he said. Dean just stood from his seat at the table and grabbed his bag.

“Yeah, she can help us out, from safely inside the motel room, researching,” he said. “She’s not ready to be out in the field yet, she can’t fight, I still haven’t showed her how to use the damn guns. She’ll be a liability and, what’s worse, she could get herself hurt or killed. I won’t have her blood on my hands.”

He basically repeated everything he had told to Y/N, almost wishing he had a better argument. Not that he needed one. He wasn’t going to sit around and listen to his brother and Y/N argue with him about this. She was staying in the motel, end of discussion.

“Okay, so when will she be ready?” Sam asked the eldest Winchester, making Dean scoff and shake his head.

“I don’t know, okay. That depends on her, but I ain’t letting her out there, and I’m done explaining myself. When she’s ready we’ll get her the fake I.D’s and everything, maybe even throw a party,” he said sarcastically, “but until I say she’s ready she’s staying.”

Sam pursed his lips and nodded. “Okay, fine,” he said, accepting that it was Dean’s call.

Dean personally didn’t care what either of them thought. Sam could try and reason him into letting Y/N into the field all he wanted, and he had no doubt that she could argue with him till her face was blue, but he wasn’t going to fight about this anymore.

Y/N was staying safe if he had to tie her to the bed and tape the phone to her ear and the laptop to her hands.

________________

Your pov

Once the three of you had packed up, you left the great state of Iowa, where the boys had just finished taking care of a werewolf.

The case was in Bayfield, Wisconsin, which made Dean excited for some reason. It was probably related to cheese though. That thought made you smile.

You’d been on the road for a few hours when Dean piped up, back to his usual dorky self. You swore he was such a child sometimes.

“Hey, ya know what? We should go see the world’s largest ball of twine,” he said enthusiastically.

“What, you mean for the hundredth time?” Sam asked his older brother. You sat in the back seat with a book on your lap. Dean had put you on research duty, but that didn’t just mean you looked up what you could for the case. You had to learn your monsters.

Monsters, ghosts, pagan gods, anything and everything that he thought you might be facing. He had Sam start you with a few books which were currently piled beside you as you looked up at the sound of the boys conversation.

“Well, maybe Y/N hasn’t seen it,” Dean pointed out.

“Seen it,” you said, as you studied up on something called a Rakshasa.

“Boy, you two are buzz kills,” he muttered under his breath.

“Says the guy who has me on book duty,” you reminded him. You could see Dean’s stance tense up.

“Y/N,” he warned. You held your hands up in surrender, making sure they were visible in the rear view mirror.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, not giving him another reason to stop being his playful self.

You silently hoped he would try and suggest a couple other tourist attractions to go to. Sure, you had pretty much seen it all but, still, you couldn’t deny the adorable smile he got on his face when he was excited about something.

When Dean didn’t speak up, you smirked at a thought, offering up a tourist attraction.

“The Don Q Inn might be a fun place to go,” you shrugged, smirking at the questioning look both boys gave you.

“It’s a motel. Apparently you can do weird stuff like bathe in cheese,” you said. Dean immediately looked like an excited child.

“Wait… you get to bathe… in cheese?” he asked.

You chuckled, nodding. “Yes, Dean.”

“Oh, we are definitely going there… after the case, I mean,” he muttered.

His reaction to the cheese bath made you chuckle. Shaking your head, you focused back on your book. You felt like mentioning the giant statue of beer a few hours away, but it might give him a nosebleed or something.

You arrived in Bayfield a few hours later. The road trip had been quiet mostly, aside from Sam quizzing you a bit.

Dean pulled the Impala up to a motel, going in to get rooms.

“For what it’s worth, I really do think you should be able to do more than research,” Sam said to you, making you look up at him and offer him a smile.

“Thanks, Sam, I appreciate that. But, clearly, there’s no arguing with your brother.” You shrugged. “It’s not a big deal anyway. He is right, I never deliberately approached danger in the past, and I really don’t know how to defend myself. If something were to happen, one of you could get hurt trying to help me. Maybe giving it time is the best go.”

Sam smiled and shook his head. A light chuckle left his lips and you raised a brow. “What?” you demanded suspiciously. Sam just looked back at you, his soft eyes meeting yours.

“Nothing.” Sam muttered, a small smile on his lips as Dean opened the door and sat back in the car.

The conversation ended as you and Sam shared a look that Dean either ignored or didn’t even notice as he turned the key in the ignition and moved the Impala, driving around and pulling it up in an empty space closer to the rooms.

Once he parked and turned the car off, he cleared his throat

“Alright,” he said, handing you your key as he turned somewhat to look at you in the back seat. You raised your brow in question as he sighed at you. His hand came up again, this time it had a cheap track phone.

You frowned at him as he gave you a look. “Take it okay,” he said. You reached out and took it, the skin of your fingers brushing against his palm.

“I already put my number, Sam’s, and Bobby’s in for you. Anything happens, you find something, you call us,” he said. “I’ll call later to see what you found.”

You nodded at him, shoving the phone in your jean pocket and sliding out of the car. Dean climbed out with you and unlocked the trunk for you so you could grab your bag.

“We’re going out to the farm to talk to the little girl and see what we can see. Have your ringer on so you can hear it,” he instructed you as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“I got it, Dean. I can figure out a cell phone, I promise,” you assured him, giving him a smile. He looked down at you, seeming like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t speak up, so you did.

“I’m not mad at you, Dean,” you said to him. His eyes met yours for a brief second and you felt a sudden desire to hug him. He didn’t respond to your words, instead pulling out a wad of one dollar bills.

“For the vending machines,” he said. “When we get back we’ll bring food, but I don’t want you to starve if it takes a while.” He let you take the cash.

“Thank you,” you said. Dean just nodded. “We won’t be too long,” he promised, “Call or text me if you go any further than the snack machines in the laundry room.” You smirked and nodded.

“Ya know, Dean, I think I’m growing on you,” you said to him, making Dean scoff and shake his head slightly.

“I think you’re a pain in my ass,” he muttered, going back to the driver’s seat.

“I KNOW I’m a pain in your ass, but you started it by letting me join,” you smiled. Dean just gave you a look.

“Yeah whatever, just call if you find anything,” he reminded you before sitting down in the car.

“Will do!” you called as he shut the door. You unlocked the door to your room and walked in, smiling as you went to the window and opened the curtain and gave him a thumbs up.

You saw Dean roll his eyes through the windshield of the Impala, laughing aloud as he pulled out of the spot and drove away. You watched him with a smile, the Impala disappearing as you chuckled to yourself, sighing and turning back to your gross motel room.

Oh well. Time to work.

TAGS ARE WIDE OPEN! JUST ASK!

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[marienela]

(from left) Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Carter (Israel Broussard) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Release Date: February 13, 2019 Genre: Thriller Cast: Jessica Rothe Director: Christopher Landon Producer: Jason Blum Executive Producers: Angela Mancuso, John Baldecchi, Samson Mucke

JESSICA ROTHE leads the returning cast of Happy Death Day 2U, the follow-up to Blumhouse’s (Glass, Split, Get Out, The Purge series) surprise 2017 hit of riveting, repeating twists and comic turns. This time, our hero Tree Gelbman (Rothe) discovers that dying over and over was surprisingly easier than the dangers that lie ahead.

When last we left Tree, she saved herself from a certain death at the hands of her roommate Lori (RUBY MODINE, Showtime’s Shameless) as she kicked the psychopath out of the Kappa Nu sorority window. Tree’s never-ending birthday was FINALLY over, and she managed to start an entire new life��swearing to never repeat her old mistakes again.

Or so she thought.

No sooner has Tree said goodbye to the endless loop and begun a promising new relationship with Carter (ISRAEL BROUSSARD, The Bling Ring) than she realizes that solving the puzzle of her bizarre murder has had unintended consequences—on a scale that will send shockwaves through the multiverse.

Carter’s roommate, Ryan (PHI VU, Pitch Perfect 2), whose fascinating ability to always be in the wrong place at the wrong second, has spent his college years building a machine designed to prove that time can be slowed down to the molecular level. Alongside his fellow aspiring engineers Samar (SURAJ SHARMA, Life of Pi, Showtime’s Homeland) and Dre (SARAH YARKIN, TV’s Foursome), Ryan and team are this close to perfecting the Sisyphus Quantum Cooling Reactor (SISSY) and becoming candidates for a Nobel Prize (or blowing up Bayfield University and everyone within a 100-mile radius, whichever comes first).

When Tree wakes up to find that it’s Ryan’s meddling with the natural order that has brought havoc to every dimension, she must rally the troops—including Kappa house president Danielle (RACHEL MATTHEWS, upcoming Ms. White Light)—to get to the real source of the time jumps and fix it for good. The only problem? Tree’s stuck in a parallel version of her actual world. For good and bad, everything is slightly askew, and Tree’s wondering if she’s better off here or back in the life she has always known.

As Tree reconnects with lost family, confronts those in her past—including former fling Professor Gregory (CHARLES AITKEN, TV’s The Knick)—and faces new villains, such as

Dean Bronson (STEVE ZISSIS of HBO’s Togetherness, The House), she will realize that she is the only one keeping herself from getting home. It’s up to Tree to take the karmic lessons learned from dying 11 times yesterday to rally her inner badass and take down everyone who ever underestimated her.

Equal parts terrifying horror, unexpected comedy and time-turning adventure, the new film from returning producer JASON BLUM (Glass, Split, Get Out) and returning writer/director CHRISTOPHER LANDON (Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones) proves that the only person who can save the megaverse is a (reformed?) megalomaniac.

Joining Blum and Landon behind the camera are a talented group of collaborators, including returning director of photography TOBY OLIVER (Insidious: The Last Key), VFX supervisor OLIVER TAYLOR (Happy Death Day), and composer BEAR MCCREARY (10 Cloverfield Lane). New talents to the Happy Death Day family include editor BEN BAUDHUIN (Krampus), production designer BILL BOES (Incarnate) and costume designer WHITNEY ANNE ADAMS (Netflix’s Barry).

Returning executive producers JEANETTE VOLTURNO (The Purge series), COUPER SAMUELSON (Get Out), ANGELA MANCUSO (upcoming Guardian) and JOHN BALDECCHI (Point Break) are joined by SAMSON MUCKE (Scouts Guide to the Zombie Apocalypse). Happy Death Day 2U is written by Landon, based on characters created by SCOTT LOBDELL.

Writer-director Christopher Landon and Jessica Rothe on the set of “Happy Death Day 2U.”

(from left) Writer-director Christopher Landon, Israel Broussard and Jessica Rothe on the set of “Happy Death Day 2U.”

(from left) Jessica Rothe as Tree Gelbman, Israel Broussard as Carter and Phi Vu as Ryan in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard) and Tree (Jessica Rothe) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Samar (Suraj Sharma), Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Carter (Israel Broussard) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(clockwise from left) Suraj Sharma (back to camera), Phi Vu, writer-director Christopher Landon (standing), Jessica Rothe, Israel Broussard and Sarah Yarkin on the set of “Happy Death Day 2U.”

(third row from bottom, from left) Phi Vu as Ryan, Jessica Rothe as Tree Gelbman, Israel Broussard as Carter, Sarah Yarkin as Dre, and Suraj Sharma as Samar in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) “Babyface” and Tree (Jessica Rothe) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Carter (Israel Broussard) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Jessica Rothe as Tree Gelbman in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

“Babyface” in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Phi Vu as Ryan in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Writer-director Christopher Landon on the set of “Happy Death Day 2U.”

Tree (Jessica Rothe, far right) defends Ryan (Phi Vu, far left) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Ryan (Phi Vu), Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Carter (Israel Broussard) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Israel Broussard as Carter in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Writer-director Christopher Landon and Jessica Rothe on the set of “Happy Death Day 2U.”

“Babyface” in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard), Lori (Ruby Modine), Ryan (Phi Vu) and Tree (Jessica Rothe) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard) and Tree (Jessica Rothe) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Tree (Jessica Rothe), Carter (Israel Broussard, face obscured) and Ryan (Phi Vu) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard), Ryan (Phi Vu), Dre (Sarah Yarkin), Samar (Suraj Sharma) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard), Ryan (Phi Vu) and Ryan (Phi Vu) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Carter (Israel Broussard) and Tree (Jessica Rothe) “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Ryan (Phi Vu) under attack from “Babyface” in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

“Babyface” in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Jessica Rothe as Tree Gelbman in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Ryan (Phi Vu) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) Tree (Jessica Rothe) and Lori (Ruby Modine) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Jessica Rothe as Tree Gelbman in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

(from left) “Babyface” and Tree (Jessica Rothe) in “Happy Death Day 2U,” written and directed by Christopher Landon.

Sneak Peek: Happy Death Day 2U Movie Release Date: February 13, 2019 Genre: Thriller Cast: Jessica Rothe Director: Christopher Landon Producer: Jason Blum…

[kansascityhappenings]

Vaccine-preventable diseases are on the rise

A number of American states and metropolitan “hot spots” are vulnerable to outbreaks of vaccine-preventable diseases. Doctors say parents are opting out of getting their children vaccinations.

The risk of outbreaks is rising in 12 of the 18 states that permit non-medical exemptions from childhood vaccinations, according to a study published Wednesday in the journal PLOS Medicine. Those states are Arkansas, Arizona, Idaho, Maine, Minnesota, North Dakota, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Texas and Utah.

Over the past decade, these states have seen a rise in the number of non-medical vaccine exemptions represented by children entering kindergarten without their shots, said Dr. Peter Hotez, a co-author of the study and dean of the National School of Tropical Medicine at the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston.

“This is a wake-up call,” he said.

Certain “hot spot” metropolitan regions also show a high proportion of non-medical exemptions. This includes Kansas City as well as Seattle, Washington; Portland, Oregon; Phoenix, Arizona; Salt Lake City, Utah; Houston, Texas; and Detroit, Michigan.

High numbers of children without vaccines are living in large cities with busy international airports. This may contribute to the risk of a swift spread of disease, according to Hotez and his co-authors. Measles outbreaks in the US are usually started by people when they become sick while traveling to or from a country where the virus is endemic.

The scientists also identified a few smaller counties in Idaho, Wisconsin and Utah with high exemption rates.

Overall, Idaho has eight of the top 10 counties with the highest rates of non-medical vaccine exemptions. The low end of this range is nearly 15% of the kindergarten population having a non-medical vaccine exemption in Morgan, Utah, to 27% in Camas, Idaho. Other top 10 counties include Bonner, Valley, Custer, Idaho, Boise, Kootenai and Boundary, Idaho and Bayfield, Wisconsin.

‘An autism dad’ and his fight

“I’m a vaccine scientist, but I’m also an autism dad trying to fight this anti-vaccine movement at a very personal level,” Hotez said. Anti-vaccine advocates often argue that autism is caused by vaccines, yet this theory has been debunked.

Hotez and his colleagues found an increase since 2009 in the number of children enrolling in kindergarten with vaccine exemptions for “philosophical” or other non-medical reasons. The study does not explore the reasons why only some of these states have rising rates.

States where a higher percentage of parents exercised their right to a non-medical vaccine exemption showed lower coverage rates of the MMR vaccine in particular, the study finds. (The MMR vaccine, which is given to children in two doses at 12 to 15 months old and 4 to 6 years old, protects against the measles, mumps and rubella.)

“We had a terrible measles outbreak in Minnesota last year,” Hotez noted, adding that vaccination coverage in 90% to 95% of all children is needed to protect against highly infectious diseases.

“Marin County, California, and Orange County, California, have very strong anti-vaccine sentiments,” he said. In fact, the state had lenient vaccine laws that allowed for philosophical exemptions prior to a 2014-15 measles outbreak in Anaheim.

Subsequently, in 2015, California voted into law a regulation against such non-medical exemptions, which were seen as a contributing factor in the outbreak. Between 2016 and 2017, the number of kindergartners with non-medical exemptions dropped to the lowest rate the state has seen in over a decade, Hotez said.

California wasn’t included in the new study “because they already closed that door.”

His concerns extend beyond America’s borders.

“I’m worried this European-American style anti-vaccine movement is going to move into the global south,” Hotez said.

“What we’re seeing in Europe right now — with horrific measles outbreaks across Europe — could also begin in the US as well,” he said. He noted that with more than 10,000 cases of measles in Ukraine this year and higher-than-usual rates in Romania, Italy, Greece and Germany, 2018 will top last year’s total of 20,000 measles cases across Europe.

“Starting in 2000, we put in place GAVI, the Global Alliance for Vaccines and Immunization. That’s been an incredibly successful organization,” Hotez said. “It’s done a terrific job of lowering deaths from childhood infectious diseases like measles. GAVI has brought down measles deaths by 90%, from over 600,000 to over 70,000. I worry we’re going to start eroding those gains.”

Possible solutions

The new study is a “good contribution” to the field, said Saad B. Omer, a professor of global health and epidemiology & pediatrics at Emory University.

Omer, who was not involved in the research, said one strength of the work is that the researchers conducted an in-depth analysis of individual states with non-medical exemptions, which had never been done.

Omer’s own research has shown that states with philosophical exemptions had both higher rates of refusal and higher rates of disease; his study focused on rates of whooping cough. “Clusters of refusal overlap clusters of outbreaks,” he said.

However, “if it’s difficult to obtain an exemption, then you have lower rates of refusal and lower rates of disease,” he said. “We established that framework and established that data.” In another study, he and his colleagues showed that rates of vaccine exemption were rising faster in states that allowed exemptions for philosophical beliefs.

“More recently, at a national level, we saw a plateauing of vaccine exemption rates,” Omer said. The new study is important, then, because it looks at the states where this general national trend may not be happening.

“The good news is that the policy option that is more viable for most states” — essentially, making it less convenient for parents to not vaccinate their children — “has actual impact on rates of refusal,” Omer said. In Washington state, he noted, a law requires parents to be counseled by a physician about vaccinations before they can receive an exemption for their children for non-medical reasons.

Just by adding that law, he said, Washington saw an approximately 42% reduction in the rate of exemptions. In California, before the regulation against non-medical exemptions became law as a result of the Anaheim measles outbreak, there was a tightening of vaccination exemption requirements that helped reduce refusals, he noted.

Such incremental changes could have positive effects across the country, Omer says.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports http://fox4kc.com/2018/06/16/vaccine-preventable-diseases-are-on-the-rise/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2018/06/16/vaccine-preventable-diseases-are-on-the-rise/

[withering-the-comic]

prologue : pages 1-10  |  posting schedule

[image description for vision-impaired readers below the cut]

PAGE ONE

A still lake, woods lining the distant shore. The day is bright, and the trees reflect on the water. The image is overlaid with the location: Bayfield, Wisconsin.

Elsewhere on the same lake, a boathouse and pier extend out onto the water, and a sailboat floats nearby, sails furled out of view. On a far-off shore is a lighthouse, partially obscured by the haze of distance.

Away from the water, situated on a busy street of the Bayfield town center, is a shop with a domed conservatory roof and more windows than walls. Music floats out onto the street, past the eclectic display of potted plants and flowers set up along the sidewalk.

Through the windows, past the painted sign that reads WINCHESTER FLOWERS & PLANTS, is the faint silhouette of a tree.

PAGE TWO

Inside the shop. Three planter trays sit on a countertop, each holding a collection of labeled seedlings. Among the lavender and marigolds, a few unusual flowers are sprouting. Their names, according to the labels, are just as unusual as their flowers: Mary, Tuesday Afternoon, Pie, and Sammy’s Attitude.

On the wall, a pinboard displays an assortment of newspaper clippings and pictures;

A business card for a coffee shop called Elevenses, printed with a picture of a steaming cup of coffee.

A polaroid photo of Dean grinning at the camera while hugging an equally cheerful Charlie, marked Dean & Charlie 2007.

An old newspaper headline that reads “APPLE TREE GROWING IN THE MIDDLE OF WINCHESTER’S SHOP IS NOW 200 YEARS OLD!”

A certificate of appreciation from the local preschool, thanking Winchester Flowers & Plants for their generous donation–carrots given to feed the preschool’s pet bunnies.

A pizza menu with the vegetarian option crossed out. A frowny face has been drawn beside it for good measure.

A child’s simple drawing of a man holding a bunch of flowers beside a tree, labeled Mr Winche Dean.

Another polaroid photo of Dean giving Sam a noogie while Sam grimaces, marked 1999.

A series of instructional images for the care of flowers.

A business card for Benjamin Lafitte, local handyman.

And finally, another, more recent newspaper clipping that reads:

For the tenth consecutive year, Winchester Flowers and Plants has taken the top prize in the statewide Blossom Awards. Consumers and horticultural experts from all over Wisconsin placed their votes at the Garden Expo held in Madison this February, with the award presented in-store over the weekend.

The family-owned shop has been a much-loved part of the Bayside community since the village was first established in 1911, and has been handed down through generations of the Winchester family. Currently run by 37 year old Dean Winchester, who took over the shop fourteen years ago, Winchester Flowers and Plants has become something of a local attraction.

“And it’s not just my winning smile,” Mr Winchester jokes. “We’ve got one of the oldest apple trees in the United States growing right here in the middle of the store. She’s well over two-hundred years old, and still going strong.”

When we asked what he planned to do with the prize money, he told us a small portion was earmarked for celebratory pie, while the remainder would be donated to the newly established Bayside Fire Service.

Mr Winchester extended congratulations to the runners up. Cuevas’ Garden in Madison came in second, while Tracy’s in downtown Milwaukee took third place.

Sitting on the countertop in front of the pinboard is a white coffee mug, printed with a hand throwing the rock and roll devil’s horns gesture. The hand is surrounded by flowers, and beneath it are the words “HEAVY PETAL.”

Musical notes float over the page, and the lyrics to Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On are overlaid in white text.

“Got no time for spreadin’ roots, the time has come to be gone—“

PAGE THREE

Dressed in jeans and a black AC/DC t-shirt, Dean Winchester stands to the left of the frame, facing away. His right arm is tattooed with a simple pattern of flowers and leaves.

The apple tree described in the newspaper clippings stands to the right, growing tall in the middle of the shop, branches spreading wide.

In front of Dean is a work bench, on which a number of potted plants sit. Most prominent is a vine in a dark ceramic pot, marked with the slogan “I Heart Doctor Sexy”

Musical notes float over the page as Dean listens to Led Zeppelin and talks to the vine, encouraging it to grow.

Dean: C’mon, sweetheart. Just a couple of leaves.

Gently, he curves his hand through the vine. Golden wisps of magic swirl around his fingers.

PAGE FOUR

Responding to the magic, the vine—Doctor Sexy from here on out—rapidly grows. Its leaves shoot outward, and it reaches up to touch Dean’s face with more affection than a plant should be capable of. Dean smiles, pleased.

Dean: That’s my girl.

As he speaks, a leaf detaches from the apple tree behind him. It floats slowly down, down, down, to finally land on Dean’s shoulder. It is withered. Dry. Dead.

Dean turns to look at the apple tree in alarm.

PAGE FIVE

Dean stares at the tree, eyes are wide and anxious as he remembers…

The woods of Bayfield, a very long time ago.

In the center of a clearing, Dean—around four years old–stands beside his mother, Mary. She’s dressed in a long, flowing gown. Young Dean is wearing handmade clothes, stitches visible along the seams.

Growing from the earth before them is a young apple tree.

Young Dean: Nuh-uh, this can’t be my tree.

Mary: Why not?

Young Dean: It’s so tiny!

Mary: Give it time, love. Someday it’ll be as big and strong as you, but first you need to help it grow.

Young Dean: Like I helped the sunflower?

Mary: Just like the sunflower.

Young Dean crouches in front of his apple tree, studying it carefully as magic weaves between the leaves.

Mary: Your tree is special Dean. It’s a part of you, so no matter what, you must always listen to what it tells you.

Young Dean: Okay.

Peering through the leaves in awe, young Dean watches the tree grow.

PAGE SIX

Back in the present, just as Mary predicted, the tree is tall and strong. The shop’s tiled floor has been carefully built around the base of the thick trunk, now engraved with Dean’s initials, and the tree’s branches reach up toward the high-domed ceiling. On all sides, countless plants and flowers flank the tree, making the shop feel like a lush forest.

Dean doesn’t notice the glossy leaves and bright flowers of the other plants.

He doesn’t notice the apple tree’s branches still spread wide.

He only has eyes for the dozens of leaves that are dying, dry and shrivelled where they grow. What might be normal for a regular tree is far from it here. This is not just any apple tree.

Dean’s hands spark with magic as he begins to panic.

Dean: No, no, no, no, please—

PAGE SEVEN

Desperate, Dean sends ripples of magic into the tree, pressing his palm to the trunk as he tries to bring the dying leaves back to life.

Dean: Fuck, please— I’m not ready for this. Please.

PAGE EIGHT

As he presses his hand more firmly against the tree, magic flows outward, spreading like veins of golden light through the cracks and crevices of the bark. His hand begins to glow, brighter, brighter, until—

PAGE NINE

—it flares in a blinding burst that radiates outward, obscuring all from sight. The light fades as Dean begs for it to have worked.

Dean: Please, please, please, please, please—

But the leaves are unchanged.

Dean: Dammit.

PAGE TEN

Dean stands beneath his tree, the shadow of its dying branches stretching ominously toward his own across the floor as he stares helplessly. As he watches, another leaf breaks free and falls.

It drifts slowly down to land at his feet, hitting the tiled floor far too gently for something so dreadful.

Dean is silent and afraid.

His tree is withering.

[withering-the-comic]

When Castiel Novak moves to the lakeside town of Bayfield, Wisconsin with his recently divorced brother, he’s not looking for much beyond a change of scenery and some inspiration for his next novel. He's certainly not looking for love--just the quiet of a small town, and the familiar sight of his friend Charlie's coffee shop on main street.

Horror and science fiction have always come easily, but as he struggles to find the right direction for the story he wants to tell, Charlie gives him some advice: go out, take the edge off, and the words will come.

A one night stand with a handsome stranger is just what he needs to smash through his writer’s block, but there's more to Dean Winchester than meets the eye, and soon Castiel finds himself in a situation straight out of one of his books.

Falling in love is the least of his worries.

More information below!

Withering is a collaborative Dean/Cas webcomic by @purgatory-jar and imogenbynight, and begins posting on September 22nd 2017.

Rating: mature to explicit Characters: Dean, Castiel, Sam, Gabriel, Charlie, and other minor characters Pairings: Dean/Castiel, and other minor background pairings Warnings: some sexual content

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