#he was probably having all the supplements he needed and knows about Sunburns

[neurotypical-sonic]

shadow 🤝 silver

"oh my god is this what sunlight feels like. is this what fresh air feels like"

[noodyl-blasstal]

Dr Google

Friends believe I've been thinking about vampires again.

---

Symptoms:  Pale Cold Sore teeth Nausea No Irregular pulse  Bloodlust Thirsty Sunburn

He wasn’t supposed to Google medical stuff anymore, Sloane and his Mums had told him off for it so many times he’d lost count, but Kravitz hated to make a fuss and surely it was easier to just check quickly. “Some guy mugged me apart from he didn’t take my wallet and he accidentally bit me a little bit… lottle bit” seemed like the kind of thing that would waste Dr Highchurch’s time. All he’d be able to do was whack some antiseptic on there and make some horrifying comments about the way he extracted the juices to make whatever poultice he decided was best. Kravitz had obviously disinfected the bite mark once he got home. Sure, he’d been passed out in the alley for a bit, but once he’d woken up he felt fine, he’d made it home in no time! It didn’t really seem ringing the police because nothing was taken and the bite wasn’t even really that bad, only a few teeth seemed to have pierced the skin.

The worst bit was the whole food situation. Kravitz was hungry, was the thing, ravenous, but when he’d tried to eat the leftovers in the fridge he’d puked them straight back up again. Obviously food poisoning was the logical choice, so he’d thrown them away and tried something basic instead. The toast tasted disgusting. He thought the butter might have turned, had a go at the biscuits in the cupboard instead. Also a nope. Everything tasted terrible, nothing stayed down. He knew it was important to stay hydrated when you had a stomach bug, of course, so he drank plenty of water. It wouldn’t stay put either. He tried medicine for settling his stomach, rebalancing his humours (well, salts and electrolytes according to the package), and painkillers. Nothing helped. So now it was five days since he’d eaten anything and he really really really wanted to, but he couldn’t. He didn’t really know what Dr Highchurch could suggest for that - he usually seemed to struggle a bit unless you could give him direction. Hence, the Googling. 

Kravitz was being sensible, of course, he knew the good symptom checkers. He wasn’t irresponsible, just needed some reliable health information which didn’t come with a side of arbour ardour. That didn’t seem unreasonable to ask. He input his symptoms and waited for the computer to ease his mind.

Iron deficiency anaemia

B12 deficiency anaemia 

Coma

One of those things was not like the others but unless this was some kind of incredibly vivid hallucination, Kravitz was good on the coma front. Anaemia though? He’d had low iron before and knew it could fuck you up. No point in bothering Dr Highchurch by asking for a blood test, he may as well just skip straight to the supplements. 

Kravitz was most of the way to the door when the dizziness and fatigue he’d seen on the symptom list kicked in. Sure, he’d been feeling a bit run down, but he was fit! He was healthy! He did his 10,000 steps and change every single day, he swam, he hiked! He should be able to walk a block over to the CVS even if he was a bit under the weather.

By the time he had willed himself onto the couch he was ready to admit defeat. Maybe he could just take a nap and then go? Or, even better, he could Door Dash it then take a nap until it was medicine time. Kravitz tapped around on his phone trying to figure the app out. It took a lot longer than it should have because everything seemed to be fuzzing round the edges - maybe he needed to book an eye test too, he was probably due one. Finally he was fairly convinced he’d put all the right details in and allowed his slow blinking eyes to stay shut.

“Honey, I’m home!” Yelled a strange voice as a man burst through the door of his apartment. Sure, Kravitz had said the door was open and to drop the bag inside in his notes, but this seemed excessive. Kravitz’s brain was full of sand and all he wanted to do was eat something, anything. The delivery man was handsome, handsome enough that Kravitz decided he’d rate him highly regardless of the breaking and entering. He smelled good too, really, really good.

Kravitz tried to struggle up into a sitting position, failed miserably, and hoped he didn’t look too pathetic. “Thank you.” It was at this point he realised he hadn’t spoken out loud since the mugging. Maybe the bite knocked his vocal chords around a bit because he sounded so croaky and raw.

“You okay there, Kemosabe?” The delivery guy focused in on Kravitz and his beautiful brow crinkled. “You look like shit.”

“Low iron.” Croaked Kravitz. Taako’s cologne was amazing, Kravitz could smell him from across the room but it wasn’t cloying and overpowering. There was a hint of sweetness to it, something Kravitz couldn’t place. 

“Uh huh. That is a thing that could be happening, sure.” 

“Or it could be B12, and a stomach bug.” 

“Look, I can’t leave you here without checking you’re okay my guy. If I deliver this, fuck off, and then you beef it it’s Taako who’s gonna end up getting arrested for it and that’s a big ol’ no thanks from me.”

“What Taco?” 

“Me, Goofus. Now, let me see.” 

“Like the food? I’m okay, thank you. I think just taking some of the iron tablets will help. Maybe the B12 too just in case. That should mean I can keep water down.” His throat’s feeling a bit better at least, less haggard for some practice at speaking. Maybe he needs to start talking to himself out loud, or, probably more sanely, ringing his Mums and Sloane.

“No not like the food, like the me. Tee ay ay kay oh. Now, shut up and let me make sure you’re not gonna die.”

Taako was so close now, Kravitz could reach out and touch him, Kravitz really wanted to reach out and touch him… and maybe grab him, kiss him, bite his… “Ow! Fuck!” Kravitz winced in pain. His lip throbbed, how the fuck did he manage to bite himself without moving his mouth?

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you’ve got a bad case of the vampires, my guy.”

[sluttbuttsstuff]

BUCCI GANG SKINCARE/BEAUTY ROUTINE (because this is what i care about)

BRUNO:

Probably has naturally perfect skin, because he’s beautiful and perfect

I love tan Buno, even if the anime and PPP make him super pale.  I translate this to the personal headcanon that he does have a natural tan, but he does use sunscreen everyday

He picked it up from being the son of a sailor, and one too many bad sunburns

Probably also loves using products with aloe in them, he knows he can trust them

Probably washes his face at night, but showers in the morning (because Abbacchio showers at night) so he thinks he doesn’t need to wash his face

Probably shaves often enough, but doesn’t cut his skin anymore when he does it because he is GROWN

Doesn’t use moisturizer because his skin is naturally on the more oily side, and thinks he doesn’t need it

He probably ends up getting wrinkles and aging MUCH faster because of this

  ABBACCHIO:

He has “A Routine” for his skincare, but he focuses more on his makeup and hair

If he’s just gonna cover it up with makeup anyways, who cares what his skin looks like

Because of that, his skin is on the sensitive side, i.e. he gets sunburn easily and has a bunch of allergies to chemicals and specific ingredients

Miraculously doesn’t get much acne anymore, just some blackheads on his nose

So yeah he puts a lot more effort into his makeup as a result

Very good at contour and cut creases-dramatic and gothic looks with dark/neutral pallets

Probably loves Kat Von D because of vibes, but also has an impressive collection of more indie brand’s liquid lipsticks and eyeliners

Actually does care a lot about his hair now that it's long

He originally let it grow out due to apathy, but Bruno complimented his hair so he keeps it long now and maintains it regularly

He washes his hair every other day give or take, then blow dries and irons it. It takes about 2 hours

He also regularly uses a hair mask, and protective sprays and oils

Also probably only uses brands recommended by hair stylists like redken and paul mitchell or the italian equivalent

He waxes all his body hair off.  All Of It.

As previously mentioned, he tends to take night showers because lets him take his time

Plus he's obv not a morning person.  He needs like an hour to do his makeup before he’s ready to go out in the morning

Probs wears the most makeup out of the gang

GIORNO:

Giorno is a person who’s carefully created a mask to achieve his dreams, and i believe this absolutely carries over into his appearance

Not to mention with issues of bullying and abuse in his past, he uses his beauty routine almost like a knight uses armor

Needless to say, he’s got the most intense skincare routine

Without fail, will wash his face and do a skincare regime twice a day

Im talking double cleansing, toner, spot correction, serum, essence, eye cream, moisturizer, etc

Spf in the highest protection available and regularly wears face masks at night

Will NOT go to bed without taking care of his skin

He definitely doesn’t seem like it, but might be the most obsessed with beauty and personal appearance out of anyone in the gang.

BUT it's the natural, effortless type of beauty.  The #wokeuplike this type

Wears some makeup, but its minimal, especially compared to Abbacchio

Some bb cream with spf and primer, lip gloss/tint, and eyebrow/lash tint.  Prefers brown mascara as opposed to black, and prefers long lashes as opposed to thick

He washes his hair with all natural products, and lets it air dry except for his donut holes in the front.  He pincurls them and uses as little hairspray as possible.

occasionally uses a straightening iron to add some curls, otherwise he thankfully has nice hair

Doesn’t really grow any facial hair.  Except for some leg/armpit hair, which is super soft and light.

Also uses hair masks and supplements for his hair, and again prefers organic/natural ingredients

I Want What He Has

MISTA:

Oh dear god

Probably one of the worst routines

Naturally has oily skin and hair, which is great for preventing aging, but bad for everything else

He does not know how to take care of himself, and unless it's brought to his attention, or he’s trying to impress/seduce someone, he doesn’t particularly care

That’s not to say that he’s a lost cause, he could probably be a model if he knew what he was doing.

Because he has oily skin, he got a lot of acne as a teen.  It’s getting better the older he gets, but he still gets plenty of white heads and acne.

Mainly on his forehead because of his beanie.

Will pop them every morning, and sometimes show it to Narancia (to his amusement) and Fugo (to his dismay)

After he pops his zits, he will use those alcohol pads

He thinks unless the skincare is actively burning his skin, it isn’t working

He’s recently started using witch hazel after a recommendation from Giorno, and it’s actually helping him a lot.  He’s not a huge fan of the smell, but it’s a start.  

This man needs to take at LEAST one shower a day, sometimes two.  Not just because of his oily hair, but because of his daily activities with passione, he sweats a lot which doesn’t help with his skin or hair

He uses Head and Shoulders , which is a crying shame.

I headcanon that his hair is naturally very dark, thick and wavy/curly, a bit coarse.  

9/10 his hair ends up sweat plastered to his skull by the end of the day after being under his hat

VERY HAIRY.  If he misses even a day of shaving, will grow stubble.  Body hair dark and curly

Also prolly has backne

FUGO:

Two words: Dry Skin

Which is nice because he doesn’t get a lot of acne, except for blackheads on his nose.

His skin is sensitive in other ways though

For one, it shows his blush easily, which can be embarrassing

Also dark bags under his eyes, although that’s mostly because of his irregular sleep schedules

Uses lotion on his hands a lot, because otherwise they can get very dry and cracked.

his lips are almost always cracked and chapped too, sometimes to the point of bleeding

He washes his face and hair daily, but doesn’t use moisturizer because he doesn't know that much about skincare.

He has learned about sheetmasks from Giorno, though, and likes them

He doesn’t do it often though, because Mista and Narancia make fun of him

Uses whatever shampoo or conditioner Bruno buys him, or whatever’s cheapest at the grocery store.  He does like to use mousse to slick his hair back and style it though

He can technically grow a beard and grows facial hair at a regular pace, but it’s so light and patchy that it doesn’t look that good, so he shaves regularly

NARANCIA:

Poor baby gets the painful kind of acne.

His skin is heavily affected by his hormones and diet

Maybe that’s why he prefers fruits and veggies to meats?  All the sugar and greasy food doesn’t do his skin any favors at all

Unconsciously picks at his acne, and doesn’t realize until he sees blood on his fingers that he knows isn’t from “work”

Could probably benefit from getting medication from a dermatologist, but he doesn’t know the first  thing about it, and is too embarrassed to ask Bruno for help

His hair is Dandruff prone, probably because he washes it every day.

Doesn’t use any special products or anything, but his hair is SO SOFT

It does get tangled up easily, unfortunately, and he has a cowlick on the back of his head that won’t. stay. Down.

Doesn’t really grow any facial hair yet, but his body hair is dark and thick, but very soft at the same time

Poor bby needs help with his routine

Got to Giorno, not Mista

[what-breaks-my-heart]

I was tagged by @its-chelisey-stuff (WE LITERALLY JUST KNEW EACH OTHER BECAUSE OF MORE THAN FRIENDS)

1. What is the colour of your hairbrush? I don’t have a hairbrush but I have a comb 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

2. Name a food you never eat. Seafood because of allergies. I can eat fish and crabs though. Basically anything that stores sea water (apart from fish).

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold? IT’S ALWAYS TOO HOT HERE. I miss the UK where I can just layer up if it gets too cold.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago? I just woke up 😂😂

5. What’s your favourite candy bar? Are there candy bars which are not chocolate???

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game? Does esports count? I went to Kuala Lumpur DotA 2 Major in 2018. Otherwise, I didn’t go to any.

7. What is the last thing you said out loud? “I’m printing it!”

8. What is your favourite ice cream? Strawberry. Life is already bitter as is.

9. What was the last thing you had to drink? Tea. I just had breakfast.

10. Do you like your wallet? Indifferent.

11. What was the last thing you ate? Fried rice. Not Uncle Roger’s style because I am not Chinese.

12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend? Big fat nope.

13. What was the last sporting event you watched? DotA 2 online tournament. I have a team I have been supporting since I started watching it in 2015 and their game started really late last night (time zone thing)

14. What is your favourite flavor of popcorn? Just the plain one.

15. Who was the last person you sent a text message to? I texted my friend (whom I managed to make him watch his first kdrama) from school to prepare a box of tissue before watching episode 15 of More than Friends.

16. Ever been camping? Camping was an annual thing back in my primary school.

17. Do you take vitamins? I don’t go out under the sun, if that’s what you mean. But no, I don’t take supplements because I am too lazy.

18. Do you regularly attend a place of worship? Not since the pandemic.

19. Do you have a tan? At this rate, I call it sunburn. But I haven’t gone out much (apart from going to work as and when needed, groceries, and taking my car for a spin) since the pandemic so the tan line is becoming fader.

20. Do you prefer chinese or pizza? Pineapple on pizza. Sue me!

21. Do you drink your soda through a straw? I pour it into a glass and drink it like a champ. But I also try to reduce single-use plastics in my daily life.

22. What colour of socks do you usually wear? Black is always the safe option (yes it tells a lot about my personality huh)

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit? Yes, but only where the speed limit is stupidly too low. Otherwise, I rarely drive above 100 km/h.

24. What terrifies you? The list is too long, it should probably be a separate post. I project my issues on the shows that I watch so every now and then you would see me analysing characters or incidents while projecting my issues.

25. Look to your left, what do you see? A broken mirror (in my bedroom), just the perfect metaphor for my twisted perspectives in life.

26. What chore do you hate most? Scrubbing the toilet.

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? Please talk slowly so I can understand you (also applicable to any other languages tbh).

28. What’s your favorite soda? Carbonated lemonade.

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? I prefer hitting the Drive Thru so I can eat my food in front of my laptop in peace.

30. What’s your favourite number? 3 and its first 3 multiples

31. Who was the last person you talked to? My brother, when I passed him the printed material he asked me to print early in the morning for his chess coaching session (he’s a chess coach, yes).

32. Favourite meat? Chicken, because it’s the easiest to be eaten.

33. Last song you listened to? Late Regret by Ong Seong Wu (More than Friends OST). I even listened to the 1-hour loop on YouTube while editing my screencaps last night. And it took longer than the editing process so I also listened to the video with hangul and English lyrics afterwards. I am more comfortable with hangul than the romanisation so I guess my pathetic Korean lessons paid off.

34. Last book you read? I can’t even remember the last time I read a book. Probably mid last year?

35. Favourite day of the week? Saturday.

36. Can you say the alphabet backwards? Haven’t tried 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

37. How do you like your coffee? Latte. But I am not a coffee drinker and only started drinking occasionally this year due to the amount of work I had to put in during the first half of this year (yes, even during the pandemic)

38. Favourite pair of shoes? I only have 2 pairs of shoes to even have any favourite. 1 pair for work and another for casual wear.

39. Time you normally get up? Half past 6 if I have to go to the office. Otherwise, I’ll wake up for morning prayer and continue sleeping until half an hour before I have to clock in. On weekends, I continue sleeping until closer to 10 o’clock. If I stayed up the night, probably closer to noon.

40. Which do you prefer, sunrise or sunset? Sunset all the way, because it’s the beginning of my favourite time of the day. Yes, I’m a vampire who loves the night. I also love necks

41. How many blankets on your bed? One and only. It’s too hot to wear even a thin blanket but it gets cold around 3 am so I have to be prepared.

42. Describe your kitchen plates. I like the design of Portmeirion table set from the early 2000s.

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment. It’s not photography material, but it’s not dirty or messy or anything.

44. Do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? I don’t drink.

45. Do you play cards? No. I don’t play anything that requires other people to join me (yes, I am a lone ranger).

46. What colour is your car? The Nissan partner and distributor in my country calls it Dark Metal Grey. It does look nice.

47. Can you change a tire? I can, but I wouldn’t. With free towing service, why should I bother?

48. Your favourite state or province? I was practically born and raised here so I cannot pick a favourite.

49. Favourite job you’ve had? I would say my previous job, because our team had a fantastic working relationship, and everyone was crazy enough to entertain my antics as the maknae.

tagging: @kdramastuff (I know you don’t do this stuff but I just wanna tag you :p) @becausenothingtodo @aromaticcedarwood @dramaintherain @dohyunsoo @kuronekonerochan @park-joonyoung @psalm40speakstome @myechoecho @ambedoanxiety @outside-seoul (that is 10 tags right because I only tag the first one to annoy her :ppp)

[louthegreatfurrry]

let the light guide your way, Pt.3

Harry stares down at the letter in his hands. The paper – parchment, part of him thinks, that’s surely parchment – is thick and heavy.

“What’s taking so long, boy?” Uncle Vernon calls, and Harry casts a quick glance over his shoulder before refocusing on the letter.

Mr. H. Potter stares up at him in green ink.

Harry has only received letters once or twice before, and they were always from school or the library. The few times it had happened, Uncle Vernon had confiscated it immediately. They had only been handed over to Harry after being thoroughly squinted at.

Something about this letter seems terribly, incredibly important. Maybe it’s the weight of it in his hands. Maybe it’s the seal at the back. Maybe Harry just wants something personal, for once.

“Coming, Uncle Vernon!” he calls, quietly slipping the letter in through the blinds on his cupboard door. He’s going to read that later, when he has time, and when the Dursleys have left the house for the evening.

He suffers through the day, working quicker than usual to finish his assigned tasks. Aunt Petunia squints suspiciously at him, but she shrugs it off and lets him go. Finally, finally Harry’s allowed to retreat to the familiar darkness of his room.

The letter turns out to be way shorter than expected. It’s also a bit underwhelming. Why would they write with green ink anyway? It makes it so much harder to read in the dim darkness…

Harry should probably find a letter telling him he’s a wizard to be a bit more concerning than he does. He should also probably think it’s a joke. Or someone messing with him. Or – well – something, surely!

Instead there’s something that just… clicks. He nods to himself. It feels… right.

We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Now, that doesn’t feel quite as right. An owl? Where do they expect him to find an owl? Is he supposed to go into the wilderness and catch one?

He worries his lip for a bit. Maybe he can mail it back – but no, he got no return address.

Right. Maybe it is a trick, after all. Nothing but a dumb joke played by Dudley and his friends.

Harry stuffs the letter into his pillowcase, knowing Aunt Petunia won’t change his bed anyway. He can’t bring himself to get rid of it completely – and neither can he rid himself of the nagging feeling that the letter is genuine.

But, Harry reminds himself as he desperately tries to extinguish that flare of hope, he can’t contact this Headmaster Dumbledore either way. His heart does sink, a tiny bit, but it’s a lost case. There’s really no way for him to do anything.

He closes the cupboard door behind him and does not look back.

*

Three days later Harry sits on his knees in the backyard, dirt up to his elbows as he works on repotting some of Aunt Petunia’s favorite flowers. The sun’s been beating down on his neck the whole day, and he hasn’t been allowed any sunscreen, so he’s sure to develop a sunburn now.

Grumbling darkly to himself – Harry never liked those flowers anyway – he resigns himself to have a burning neck for a few days.

“B – Harry!” Aunt Petunia calls.

Harry looks up, surprised. She only ever calls him that when they have guests – and if they have guests, she’d want him to be a bit more respectable than he is now…

Grimacing down at his muddy pants, Harry tries his best to brush off the mud before rubbing his hands together to rid them of excess dirt. Then he hurries into the kitchen, careful to leave his shoes by the door so he won’t stomp filth all over the floor.

Aunt Petunia is white as a sheet when she gives him a nervous little smile.

Glancing behind her, Harry can see why.

He blinks at the very, very small man sitting on the couch, then hurries to look at Aunt Petunia again. She doesn’t like it when he stares at strangers.

Aunt Petunia looks even more strained now than before. “This is Mister… Flitwick,” she says, and despite her best efforts her mouth tightens a bit at what she likely finds to be a terribly abnormal surname. “He’s here to talk to you about… school.”

Something tells Harry that the only reason Mister Flitwick was allowed inside was because the neighbours would stare otherwise. “Pleased to meet you, sir,” he says, nodding in Mister Flitwick’s direction. Manners are important, he knows.

“And I you, Mr. Potter!” Mister Flitwick says in a very, very small voice that fits his very, very small body. “I am to be your Charms Professor at Hogwarts – and I must apologize, on behalf of Headmaster Dumbledore, for sending you a letter and not a representative right away.”

Harry perks up, chest expanding to make space for the burst of light within him. “You’re from Hogwarts?” he asks, and his voice trembles. Then he hurries to add a meek, “sir,” upon feeling Aunt Petunias’ burning gaze on his already sore neck.

Apparently, Aunt Petunia’s anger hadn’t been because of Harry’s lack of manners. “But – but – but we never said – ” She cuts herself off, pressing a hand to her throat. When she speaks again, her voice raises into a sharp squeak. “You got a letter?”

Oh, no – he’s going to be punished for that now. Ducking his head to avoid her gaze, he allows himself a small nod. “Yes, Aunt Petunia.”

She mumbles something suspiciously like ‘so glad Vernon is at work’ under her breath. “Mister… Flitwick,” she says, louder now – and again making a face as though she just bit into a lemon. “The – Harry, here, will not be joining your school.”

Harry’s suddenly thrown back to what feels like ages ago, sitting in the cupboard on bruised knees reading green ink and tasting such wonderful, glorious hope on his tongue. Then the bitterness drowns it, the disappointment and anger with himself for believing, and now – now he’s been given that hope back, and Aunt Petunia tries to take it away from him?

Mister Flitwick glances over at him, and perhaps he sees the way Harry’s fingers have tightened on the cloth of his pants, for he dips his head and looks back to Aunt Petunia. “You say that as though you have any choice in the matter,” he says cheerfully. “Lily and James wanted him there, and so do the teachers.” He looks over at Harry and shows him the most genuine smile Harry has ever seen. “All of us.”

Aunt Petunia stares at him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. When Mister Flitwick pulls out a wooden twig – a wand, Harry’s mind helpfully supplements him – she seems to sink into the chair. “Yes, well, when you put it like that…” she very nearly squeaks.

Chuckling, Mister Flitwick gives his wand a little twirl, after which a scroll of… not paper, but parchment, appears in the air. He plucks it down and unrolls it, quickly skimming through its contents. “I came here with the orders to discuss the plans for young Harry with you, Mrs. Dursley,” Mister Flitwick says, and from his position by the door, Harry can see the way his lips curl in an amused smile. “Though now it appears I’m here to tell you about the plans.”

Aunt Petunia pales a few shades more – and surely, she must be about to reach maximum paleness – but nods, nonetheless. Admittedly, the nod is a bit shaky, but at least it’s a nod.

“Right,” Mister Flitwick says, clearing his throat. “I will return in two days’ time to bring Mr. Potter to Diagon Alley – that is, a Wizarding shopping street where he will be able to purchase everything he’ll need for school. He will be handed a ticket to the Hogwarts Express, which leaves for Hogwarts the 1st of September at 11 o’clock precisely. It leaves from King’s Cross in London, at Platform 9¾.” Mister Flitwick looks up at Aunt Petunia, his eyes sharp. “You will make sure Mr. Potter gets to the platform on time. If he does not arrive to school, one of my colleagues or I will bring him there.” He looks down again, but Harry can still see the smile lurking at the corners of his mouth. “Not brining him might have… consequences.”

Aunt Petunia nods hurriedly. “Of course,” she allows shakily. “Two days’ time. London the 1st of September.” She swallows, gaze flickering to the clock on the wall. Her knuckles go white where she tightens her hold on the armrests of her chair. “If – if you’ll excuse me, Mister F… Flitwick – my husband will return home soon, and – he would not like seeing you here.”

“I see I have overstepped my welcome,” Mister Flitwick says, hopping down from the couch. The amused creases around his eyes show that he is likely fully aware that he was never welcome in the first place.

Harry notes that he isn’t as short as he seems when he’s standing. He would probably be about Harry’s height, actually.

Mister Flitwick turns to Harry with a bright smile, bowing at the waist. “I’ll see you in two days, Mr. Potter,” he says, and then he spins on his heel and disappears with a crack.

Harry stares at the spot where he stood for a moment.

And then he turns on Aunt Petunia. “You knew?” he says, hands balling into fists.

“Hush, boy,” Aunt Petunia replies, but it lacks the usual malice. She’s still pale, hands trembling slightly as she stares into absolutely nothing. “I… I have to tell Vernon…”

Recognizing a lost fight when he sees one, Harry walks off, grumbling darkly to himself about aunts who can’t take a bit of a surprise.

His heart is already dreaming of magic, and owls, and spells.

*

Later that day, after he’s finished in the garden and dinner and sweeping the hallway he lies in his cupboard and listens to Uncle Vernon’s bellows of rage, followed by Aunt Petunia raising her voice to screech at him – a seemingly fruitless attempt at explaining, or perhaps placating.

Harry rolls over and closes his eyes. It’s not his problem. He’ll be going to school no matter what the Dursleys settle on.

They yell far into the night, and when Harry is torn out of sleep to make breakfast the next morning, Aunt Petunia is grim and Uncle Vernon isn’t looking at either of them.

Still, Harry supposes, it’s better than being thrown out on the street. He eats his bacon in peace.

*

Harry waits anxiously the next day. It occurs to him, while he’s fixing breakfast, that Mister Flitwick hadn’t mentioned when he was arriving – only that he was.

Aunt Petunia seems just as anxious as him, glancing at the clock every ten minuets or so.

Around noon someone knocks on the door. The whole house holds its breath.

“Boy –” Uncle Vernon says.

“I’ll get it!” Harry runs for the door, nearly tripping in his haste. He rips it open, lowers his gaze, and finds that his predictions had been right. The very, very small man called Mister Flitwick is just a little bit shorter than him. “Hello,” he greets, offering him a smile. “Are we going to that street now?”

Mister Flitwick smiles at him. “Diagon Alley, yes,” he says, nodding once. His gaze shifts to something behind Harry, and some of the warmth in his smile dwindles. “Ah, hello again, Mrs. Dursley! I will be taking Mr. Potter to Diagon Alley, now, as we agreed.”

Harry strains his neck to look at Aunt Petunia, who’s clutching the doorframe as though it’s the only thing holding her upright. She looks incredibly disappointed. “Yes,” she says. “Make sure you do. And that you return him in one piece.” There is an attempt – which Harry has to admit is quite the failure, thanks to how she has once again paled – at looking down her nose on Mister Flitwick. “We know how this – this pesky wand waving business is. Dangerous, that is! So. Make sure he comes back whole. Or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

Mister Flitwick chuckles. “Of course, Mrs. Dursley. We’ll return no later than twilight.”

It gives them lots of time, Harry notes. It’s summer – twilight won’t arrive for another seven hours, at least. Aunt Petunia looks like she might complain, but Mister Flitwick grabs Harry by the arm and spins with him, and then there’s a terrible sensation of being flushed down the toilet, and then Harry’s standing in the middle of a busy street.

He lets out a yelp and stumbles a bit, but Mister Flitwick merely chuckles and pats his hand a bit. “Not to worry, Mr. Potter,” he says, “everyone reacts a bit poorly to their first apparition.”

Harry isn’t quite sure what to say in response to that, for he’s a bit busy staring at the street unfolding before him. There are people everywhere, wearing tall pointy hats and long robes and chattering on about a dozen different topics. There is a shop for owls, and there one for cauldrons, and there one with books –

“Let’s see, then,” says Mister Flitwick, pulling a piece of parchment out of his robes. “I think we’ll go through this list in order, and then you can go shopping for whatever you like afterwards – how’s that, hm?” He hands Harry the list as he speaks, and Harry takes it with eager hands.

Robes, gloves, cauldrons, books –

a wand.

And he’s allowed to shop freely afterwards? Wherever he wants? Harry takes in the street with something akin to hunger in his stomach. “I would like that very much,” he manages to say. “But – Mister Flitwick, sir, I don’t have any money…”

Mister Flitwick nods, as though he had expected this. “That there,” he says, pointing down to a large marble building further down the street, “is Gringotts, the Wizarding bank. Your parents left you a vault.” He begins to walk down the street, and Harry, not wanting to be left alone in the hustle and bustle of this new and exciting world, hurries to keep up. Not that he needs to hurry a lot – Mister Flitwick has shorter legs than him, after all. “Oh, and Mr. Potter? That’s Professor Flitwick, to you.”

Harry would be ashamed, if it weren’t for the good natured way Mister – Professor Flitwick had said it. As it is, he only nods, mumbles some form of apology, and keeps up.

At the entrance to Gringotts stands two even shorter creatures. “Goblins,” Professor Flitwick explains, exchanging a bow with the goblin to the right. Harry, not wanting to accidentally offend them, bows as well. Professor Flitwick gives him one of his amused looks, but doesn’t comment, so he must’ve done something right.

The trip inside of the bank is, to be quite honest, a bit boring. There’s some to-the-point talk between Professor Flitwick and a goblin, and then they’re walking a bit. The most exciting part has to be the ride down to the Potter vault (Harry doesn’t bother keeping in his whoop of excitement) and the absolute mountains of coins Harry is met with when the vault door opens for him.

He turns to Professor Flitwick with wide eyes. “How – how much can I take?” he asks meekly.

“Wise question!” Professor Flitwick says, his voice rising in pitch with his eagerness. “You should take enough to last the schoolyear, as well as this shopping trip – here, let’s look at it together, shall we?” He walks over to Harry and picks up some of the coins, pointing out a Knut and a Sickle and a Galleon and explaining their worth. Harry nods along, though he doesn’t think he’ll remember how much a Knut is to a Sickle and a Sickle to a Galleon – as long as he remembers which is which, it should be easy enough.

When they leave, Professor Flitwick assures him he has enough for the schoolyear – and probably a little bit extra, he says with a wink.

Harry can almost swear that the goblin escorting them rolls his eyes.

*

Harry squints at the bright light outside of Gringotts. He hadn’t realized it was that dim in there. “What now?” he asks Professor Flitwick, his pouch of newly acquired money jingling by his thigh.

Professor Flitwick hums, pulling out that list again. “Ah, that would be robes,” he says. “Madam Malkin’s would be best for that. Follow me.”

Not long after they’ve found their way into a small shop full of racks and mannequins with all different sorts of robes. Some are long, some short, some simple and some terribly flamboyant. Harry, busy staring around the room, barely hears Professor Flitwick telling the lady at the counter that he’s a “Hogwarts student, the full set.”

They’re both taken to the back room, where Harry is put on a stool. The lady – Madam Malkin – slips a black robe over his head and begins to pin it to the right length. “Which House, dearie?” she asks, not looking up at Harry as she works.

Harry throws Professor Flitwick a flabbergasted look.

Professor Flitwick chuckles. “A first year, ma’am,” he says, and Madam Malkin nods, as though that explains everything. Professor Flitwick then patiently explains the four Houses of Hogwarts, into which all the first years are sorted on their first day. “What house do you think you’ll be in, Mr. Potter?” he asks, something like curiosity to his voice.

Before Harry can open his mouth to answer (“I don’t know”) Madam Malkin stiffens. “Mister – Mister Potter?” she repeats, looking up at Harry as if he just saved her dog from drowning. “Harry Potter?”

“Uh,” says Harry. “Hi?”

“Madam,” Professor Flitwick says courtly, “The robes, please.”

Madam Malkin blinks, then hurries to continue with the robes.

Harry frowns at Professor Flitwick.

“Ah,” he says, and the usual humor in his eyes flickers and dies. He sits down on the stool standing beside Harry’s. “Twenty years ago, there was a terrible war. Your parents fought in it, along with many, many others.”

Harry stares at Professor Flitwick with wide eyes. This is more information that he’d ever dreamed of learning of his parents.

“Our side fought against a terrible foe,” Professor Flitwick continues. “A Dark Lord, who we today know as You-Know-Who, or He Who Must Not Be Named.”

“What’s his actual name?” Harry asks curiously.

Professor Flitwick visibly grimaces. Then he glances around before leaning forward. “Lord… Voldemort,” he whispers. He shudders after saying the name. “He was a terribly evil man. Hundreds of lives were lost. Nothing seemed to be able to stop him.” There’s a heavy pause. Professor Flitwick levels him with a solemn gaze. “Until you.”

“M – me?” Harry squeaks.

“You-Know-Who came to your parents house late at night during Halloween, 1981,” Professor Flitwick continues. His voice trembles, just slightly, with some withheld emotion. “Lily and James did not survive. But when he leveled his wand on you…” Professor Flitwick pauses again. “The Killing Curse is supposed to kill instantly.”

Numbness creeps up Harry’s arms. The hairs on his back stand up, and he flexes his fingers against a sudden uneasiness. “Why didn’t it?” he whispers.

“No one knows,” Professor Flitwick says quietly. “But when we came to the house… all that was left was you and a dusty robe with You-Know-Who’s magical imprint on it.” He shakes his head. “You’re known as The-Boy-Who-Lived, Mr. Potter. Everyone in this world knows about you.”

Harry stares at him with wide eyes. “O – oh,” he says. Then he quiets, not sure how to react to all of this. Professor Flitwick looks so terribly sad, so old and worn – Harry would like to say sorry, but it would probably be taken the wrong way, so he says nothing.

“There,” Madam Malkin says, her voice thick with emotion. When she straightens beside Harry, her eyes are wet with tears. “Free. Savior of the wizarding world discount.”

“What – no! I can’t do that,” Harry exclaims, pushing aside the robe to tug open his pouch filled with money. “That’s – here,” he says, shoving a handful of Galleons at her. “Is that enough? Do you need more?” He gives Professor Flitwick a look which hopefully isn’t as desperate as he thinks. “What’s the price?”

Madam Malkin makes a keening sound at the back of her throat, and then she swallows, a few tears trickling down her cheeks. She looks down at the golden coins in her hands, then carefully counts out three Galleons and five Sickles. “There,” she says, voice wobbling slightly. She hands back easily ten Galleons. “I don’t need more.” She holds out her free hand after Harry puts the rest of the coins into his pouch.

Harry blinks at it for a moment, then, realizing what she wants, he rushes forward to shake it.

“You are a kind boy, Harry Potter,” Malkin says. “Thank you.”

Once outside, after Professor Flitwick has shrunk Harry’s bags and put them in a larger bag and handed it off to him, Harry sighs. “She shouldn’t have treated me like that,” he mutters. “I haven’t… done anything yet.”

“While that might be true,” Professor Flitwick says patiently, “there are many people who will react in similar ways. You are loved here, Mr. Potter. I would advice you to get used to the thought.” He gives Harry a small beam. “And I’m saying this only because I think you ought to know, but the Hogwarts student pack costs 15 Galleons, usually.”

Harry freezes. “What?” he exclaims. “She took – she took two!”

Professor Flitwick nods. “And she was very much aware of what she was doing,” he says. “Don’t hold it against her. She’s grateful.” His eyes cloud as he stares at something far, far away. “We all are.”

Clearing his throat, Harry shifts from one foot to the other. “Well, er… what’s – what’s next on the list?”

“Ah – er,” says Professor Flitwick, fumbling for the list. “Books! Course books, that is. Flourish and Blotts is where most students go – this way!”

Harry follows, relieved to see the Professor smiling in that quickly-becoming-familiar way of his. Books aren’t his greatest pleasure, as he never quite got the hang of reading, but if it’s required, it’s required.

When they enter the shop – a store filled with shelves stacked to the ceiling with books upon books upon books – Professor Flitwick puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry almost manages to keep from twitching at the sudden move. “Take a look around, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick says with a smile, “and I’ll talk to the clerk regarding your schoolbooks.”

Harry nods absently, wandering off towards the back of the store. He reads the backs of some of the books as he goes, and a few of them piques his fancy. Pulling one of them out of the shelf – Curses and Countercurses – he begins to flip through it, humming in interest at some of the odd things the book promises to teach him.

A curse that twists a person’s tongue? Harry thinks wistfully of the way he’s sometimes wanted Uncle Vernon to just shut up about his dad.

“Hello,” a voice says, and Harry spins around, nearly dropping his book in surprise. A pretty boy with silver-white hair and pointed features stands by the other shelf, holding a leather satchel in his other hand. “First year, you too?”

Flushing slightly at the state of his own clothes – Dudley’s hand-me-downs aren’t exactly the prettiest dress clothes out there – Harry nods.

The boy’s gaze lands on the book in Harry’s hands, and he wrinkles his nose. “You don’t want to buy that,” he says. “It’s a terrible boor, my father says. And most the curses are practically useless, too.”

Harry looks down at the book again, frowning slightly. The Jelly-Legs curse doesn’t seem useless, to him. “Why?” he asks. If the book is bad, he’d like to know the specifics, so he knows what to avoid in others.

That seems to throw the boy for a loop. “Er, well – because it is, of course,” he says, raising his chin dauntingly.

“Right,” says Harry, feeling very much not impressed.

“Anyway,” the boy says, “my parents are just up the street looking at trunks for my year. I hope they find one with a few extra compartments – and it better have the Slytherin crest on it, too – I mean, it’s obvious I’m going there, we don’t need to wait for the Sorting to know that.”

Harry nods warily, glancing to the right to see if it’s a suitable exit route.

The boy gives him another daunting look. “Not the talkative sort, are you?” He then gets an utterly horrified look over him. “You are the right sort, aren’t you?”

Not quite sure what the ‘right’ sort is, Harry nods eagerly. “Oh, yes, of course,” he says, eyeing the gap between the two bookshelves. Maybe he’d fit there, if he sucked in his stomach…

“Oh. Well, then.” The boy looks about. “Who are you with, by the way?”

“You know,” Harry says cheerily, “I think he just called for me! I have to go. See you at Hogwarts!” And with that he bolts for the gap between the shelves, sucking in his stomach just to be sure. The boy doesn’t even have time to react.

Harry browses for books a bit more, picking out a few more as he walks. Powers You Never Knew You Had and What To Do With Them Now You've Wised Up looks interesting, so he tucks it under his arm. Runic Dictionary has a rich red color to its cover, and Harry ooh’s and aah’s a bit over it before he brings that, too. Curses and Countercurses remains in the bunch, purely out of spite.

By the time Professor Flitwick calls Harry back to the counter, he hasn’t picked out any more books. He offers Professor Flitwick a bashful smile, but he only chuckles a bit, looking almost pleased with him.

“Come on, then,” Professor Flitwick says good-naturedly, “next on the list is your wand.”

“Is there a trunk on the list, sir?” Harry asks.

Professor Flitwick squints down at the paper. “…no,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised. “We’ll have to get you that, as well.”

Harry nods absently. “Wand first, though, right?” he asks eagerly.

“Indeed,” Professor Flitwick says with a smile.

Ollivander’s has a narrow outside and a tiny, dim and dusty inside. It reminds Harry somewhat of his cupboard.

A tiny bell rings somewhere in the shop as Harry and Professor Flitwick enter. There are small, rectangular boxes stacked atop each other along the walls and on the shelves. Harry stares at them, wondering which might hold the wand he will end up with.

“Good afternoon,” a soft voice interrupts.

Harry jumps, turning to face the owner of the voice. He comes face to face with an old man whose hair looks like cobwebs and eyes like moons. “Hello,” he greets cautiously.

The man – Ollivander? – smiles. Harry isn’t sure if he likes that smile or not. “Ah, yes. Yes. I’ve been waiting for you. Harry Potter.” Harry nods slowly. “You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow.”

Nodding in understanding, Harry adds, “Nice for charm work, right?”

Ollivander beams. “Oh, yes, absolutely,” he agrees.

Harry blinks. He hadn’t even guessed on that. He’d just blurted it out. A quick glance at Professor Flitwick shows him to be just as confused as him.

“Your father, however,” says Ollivander conspiringly, walking closer to Harry, “favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power – ”

“And excellent for Transfiguration,” Harry buts in.

What on Earth is transfiguration?

“Oh yes, quite so!” Ollivander says. “Ah, well, I say your father favored the wand – but it really is the other way. The wand chooses the wizard, after all.”

Harry nods.

Ollivander’s eyes drift, settling on Professor Flitwick, who’s still standing by the door with a small smile. “Ah!” Ollivander exclaims. “Filius, what a joy, it’s almost as though it was yesterday… aspen, dragon heartstring, nine inches?”

“Oh, yes, right as always!” Professor Flitwick says. “Works as a charm.” He adds a wink to the end, which Ollivander chuckles at.

Charms, Harry’s mind supplements, aspen is good for charms.

“Now, yes, young Mr. Potter – wand arm?”

And so passes almost twenty minutes of Harry being handed wand after wand, all of them rejecting him the moment they touch his fingers. His heart sinks a little with each discarded wooden stick, but Ollivander only seems to grow more and more excited.

“Tricky customer, hm?” he says, eventually, giving the tall pile of wands an amused look. “No matter, no matter – every wizard has his wand. Let’s see, now…” He goes fluttering over by the shelves, muttering to himself.

As Harry has already seen this happen seven times, now, he turns to Professor Flitwick with an expression he knows is hopeless.

Professor Flitwick offers him a reassuring smile. “I took almost an hour,” he whispers. “I thought there might’ve been a mistake. Not to worry, Mr. Potter. You’ll find your wand.”

Ollivander returns shortly after, shoving a new wand into Harry’s hands. “Holly, phoenix, eleven inches, nice and supple,” he says.

Harry sighs, taking the wand in hand and expecting it to be snatched right out again.

He blinks, however, at the sudden and immediate surge of power that rushes through him – from his very toes to the roots of his hair.

“Hm,” says Ollivander, “no, I don’t think – ”

Harry snarls, taking a step back and clutching the wand to his chest. Ollivander blinks, taken aback. “No,” says Harry hotly, “I want this one.”

“But – ”

“This one,” Harry repeats, and his scar tingles. “Or nothing.”

There’s a moment where bone-deep terror flickers in Ollivander’s eyes. A brief second it doesn’t seem like he’s in the tiny shop anymore, but rather somewhere very far away. Then Ollivander blinks and the look is gone. “Ah, Mr. Potter, are you certain?”

Harry straightens, wand still in hand. His scar stops tingling. “Yes. It chose me.”

Ollivander seems resigned. “Very well,” he mutters. “Seven Galleons.”

Nodding, Harry hands over the seven golden coins. He bids Ollivander farewell – which he responds to, admittedly somewhat shakily. Back out on the street, Professor Flitwick gives Harry a strange look. “What was that, Mr. Potter?”

“The wand felt… right,” Harry tries to explain. “I’m not sure, sir. I just… I just knew that I couldn’t leave the store without it.” He ducks his head bashfully. “I… I’m sorry, if I embarrassed you, sir – I don’t know what came over me…”

And true, he doesn’t know what that was. There was just this… this intense, feral anger at the thought of losing the wand that so obviously had chosen him.

“Apology accepted, Mr. Potter,” Professor Flitwick says easily. “Well, let’s go, then. We still need to finish the rest of your shopping.”

The Apothecary is a fascinating, curious place, and Harry spends most of the time peeking into barrels and boxes and drawers full of strange, slimy stuff. Jars of herbs and roots line the walls while feathers, claws, and fangs hang from the ceiling. Harry ooh’s and aah’s for a bit and almost manages to keep in his disappointment when the basic potion ingredients he needs for school don’t include neither unicorn hair nor vampire fangs.

After they finish in the Apothecary, they stop by the last obligated shop to get Harry a cauldron, glass phials, a telescope (which Harry almost manages to break), and a set of scales. “What now, sir?” Harry asks, shifting to get a better grip on the bags he carries. “A trunk?”

Chuckling good naturedly, Professor Flitwick steers him towards the trunk shop. “First year,” he tells the clerk, as Harry once again drifts through the shop. They have trunks in all the colors he can think of, and then a few more – large trunks, small trunks, trunks that look like books, trunks that are made of books.

Harry leaves the shop with one of the better trunks designed for First Year students. It has three compartments (all of which have their own passwords) and a Hogwarts crest at the top lid. “The House-Elves have seen this model before,” the clerk assures him, “and will Charm your House crest onto it once you’ve been sorted.”

Harry nods, making a mental note to look up House Elves later.

“Now, Harry,” Professor Flitwick says, after they’ve put all his bags into the trunk and Professor Flitwick cast something he called a featherlight Charm on it. “Where to?”

With a start, Harry realizes they must have finished the list. His stomach swoops. He’s never been able to shop like this before. “Uhm – the list said – we can bring a pet?” he asks, crossing his fingers eagerly. It’s almost too good to be true.

Professor Flitwick nods. “A toad, a cat, or an owl are the most common,” he says. “I know of a pet store right around the corner. Come on.”

*

Harry watches the toads through the glass, but shakes his head and moves on quickly. Toads aren’t really… his thing. He’s surprised toads are anyone’s thing, to be honest. The cats aren’t really interesting either – he’s fine with cats and most cats are fine with him, but they watch him with creepily intelligent eyes as he passes them. Besides, he’ll be reminded of Mrs. Figg every time he looks at it if he gets one. He has to restrain a shudder.

A low hoot gets his attention. There are a few owls gathered at the back of the room. Most of them have dusty coats, but there are a few peculiars in there – a jet-black one, and one looking as though it’s trying to impersonate an eagle –

and… a snow-white little angel.

Harry feels as though all the air has been punched out of his lungs. “Hey, there,” he whispers, walking over to the owl’s perch. “Aren’t you a beauty?” The tag beneath the perch reads Snow Owl – loyal, protective, and headstrong. Carries your mail like no other. Harry looks up at the owl with a wide smile. “Think we’ll work together?”

The owl hoots, fluttering its wings a little before taking flight. A moment later it settles on Harry’s shoulder.

Professor Flitwick looks terribly amused when Harry makes his way over to the counter. Harry doesn’t ask why.

*

They return to the Dursleys somewhere around dinner time, and Harry has stuffed his trunk full of all kinds of interesting things. There’s wizarding candy, the books he’d bought, some small knick-knacks that look strange or make odd sounds, a proper box for his wand along with an instruction pamphlet and a set of polish, a wand harness Professor Flitwick said was smart to get, a Bottomless Bag, quills and parchment, owl food and so on and so on.

Upon arriving back at the Dursleys, Harry realizes that he might have a bit of a problem.

There’s nowhere to put his things.

This problem, however, is not a long-lived one. Not long after Harry comes in – wizarding trunk and owl and all – Uncle Vernon clears his throat briskly. “We’ve talked about it,” he says, and Harry gets the vague impression that Uncle Vernon would rather be anywhere else than here, “and you might be getting a bit too, er, big, for the cupboard. Which is why you’ll be getting Dudley’s second room.”

A pause, and then Harry nods. “Thank you, Uncle Vernon.”

That sure solves the problem of space. Well, almost. The room is full of Dudley’s broken toys, but that’s alright. Harry will look through it to find what he’d like to keep in the room and what he should throw out.

Later, when Harry’s gone to bed and Dudley has not gotten his room back, he lies and stares at his trunk and owl into the late hours of night.

*

A month later Harry stands by Platform Nine, King’s Cross, holding the ticket he got from Professor Flitwick tightly. The Dursleys left a few minutes ago, looking terribly amused but apparently not daring to laugh at him.

Harry looks up at the brick wall in front of him. “You just walk straight through,” Professor Flitwick had said, when Harry asked. “Just walk. It’s as easy as that.”

Watching the wall now, Harry isn’t quite so sure. Nevertheless, he takes a step forward and reaches out, pressing his fingers to the bricks.

Except his fingers go straight through.

Hiding a small smile Harry looks about, making sure no one who shouldn’t see this is watching him. Then he steps fully forward, pulling his trunk after him. Darkness engulfs him for a few long moments, but it ends as quickly as it came, as he suddenly stands on a completely new place.

Harry blinks. Powerful magic, he thinks, to transport someone this far…

The platform is packed with people, cats running about and owls soaring above them. Children and teenagers flutter from group to group, loud chattering and laughing filling the air. Adults stand scattered on the platform as well, talking together in tones that aren’t quite as loud as the children.

Harry rushes for the train, ducking his head in an attempt to not meet anyone’s eyes. He hoists his trunk into the train – with some difficulties, since Professor Flitwick’s Charm had worn off after some time – and climbs in after it. After a brief search he finds an empty compartment, where he sits down with a heavy sigh.

He leans his head back against the headrest behind him and closes his eyes. Peace. His stomach clenches painfully against a wave of nervousness, and he opens his eyes again. What if he won’t be sorted? What if it really is a mistake?

A boy pokes his head into the compartment before Harry can follow that train of thought any further. “Hi,” he says cheerily, “can I sit here? Everywhere else is full…”

Harry gestures for the seat opposite of him. The boy – a head full of ginger hair and the whole night sky scattered across his face, along with kind dark eyes – nods gratefully and sinks into the seat, pushing his worn trunk beneath it.

A tense pause. “First year?” the boy asks. Harry nods. “Me too. I’m Ron Weasley, by the way.” He doesn’t hold out his hand to shake, and Harry likes him a little bit more for it.

“Nice to meet you,” Harry says. “I’m Harry Potter.”

Ron instantly looks as though the sun just exploded. “You – I mean – are you? Really?” Harry nods. Who else would he be? “And you – do you have the… the scar?”

Harry smiles, in spite of himself. Poor Ron, too flustered to string together words properly. “Yeah,” he says, pushing his curls away from his forehead.

“Wow,” says Ron.

“Not really,” says Harry, letting go of his bangs again.

Ron blinks, then bursts into surprised laughter. “Suppose not.” Then he sobers again. “Do you… I mean, do you remember any of it?” Harry shakes his head, which seems to disappoint Ron, for he slumps a bit over in his chair. “Oh,” he says. Harry shifts, uncomfortable with Ron’s small sigh. He almost considers making something up, just to cheer him up again. Then Ron perks up. “Want to play Exploding Snap?”

The next hour or so is spent in cheery company, Ron gleefully explaining the rules of the card game to Harry, who listens with rapt interest. When Harry learns the rules and the game begins to go smoothly, they talk about themselves – Harry manages to get Ron on a roll, talking about his brothers and parents and his little sister Ginny. Ron asks a question here and there himself, but Harry answers as vaguely as he can. He’s not sure if Ron really would appreciate all the stories of his childhood.

At one point a girl with dark skin and wild, bushy hair bursts into the compartment, blabbering about a lost toad. When she sees Harry and Ron playing, however, she quiets down and enters the compartment. The quiet doesn’t last long, though, as she hurries to bombard them both with questions about the game. Harry, still not fully certain about the rules, is happy to let Ron explain.

The girl introduces herself as Hermione Granger, after which Harry and Ron introduce themselves as well. Hermione gapes at him for a moment, before leaving Ron and bombarding Harry with questions instead. He can’t answer even half of them (“Is it true that your favorite candy is ice mice?” – Harry doesn’t even know what that is), which he tells her, and she pouts but accepts that.

By the time the sun tips towards the horizon and the skies turn dark, Harry has made relatively good friends with the both of them. Hermione is a bit over the top enthusiastic about her hobbies, and Ron is a bit over the top enthusiastic about Harry, but he can live with that. They’re both kind, and nice, and seem like good people.

“I’d love to be a Gryffindor,” Ron tells them, proudly puffing out his chest as Harry hands him another Chocolate Frog. “My whole family has been Gryffindors.”

Hermione bites her lip. “I’ve heard so much good about Gryffindors.” Then she seems to pale. “As long as I don’t end up in Slytherin…”

Ron nods vehemently.

Harry frowns. Professor Flitwick had said every House was just as good as the others… “I don’t know where I’ll go,” he says, fiddling a bit with his sleeve. “I think all of the Houses sound just fine.”

Hermione and Ron stare at him for a bit. Then Ron ducks his head, muttering something vaguely agreeing, and Hermione nods thoughtfully.

“Well,” she says, biting her lip, “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

*

The boy from the book store in Diagon Alley corners Harry later, when they’re standing and waiting for the Sorting to begin. “You didn’t tell me you were Harry Potter!” he exclaims.

Harry blinks. “You – you didn’t ask,” he says, taking a step back from the eager expression on the boy’s face. “And you didn’t tell me your name!”

The boy straightens up as though this feat requires his full attention. “My name is Malfoy,” he says. “Draco Malfoy.”

Harry nods to this. “Hi, Draco. Nice to meet you.”

Before they can say anything else to each other, Hermione appears through the crowd and pulls Harry away, chattering eagerly about the ghosts that just floated in through the wall. Harry throws Draco a quick wave.

Ron greets Hermione and Harry both beneath one of the lanterns. His face is pale, making his freckles stand out, and it looks like his hands might be shaking just a little bit. “What’d you reckon the Sorting will be?” he asks. “Fred and George – my brothers – said we’d be wrestling a troll…”

But before either Harry or Hermione can answer that, the doors to the Great Hall swings open.

Harry stares in awe. The ceiling is scattered full of stars and a cloud here and there – rows upon rows of floating candles clutter the air above the four long tables positioned in the room. Hermione leans forward and whispers, to them both, “The ceiling is enchanted to look like the outside sky – no matter the weather!”

“Wow,” Harry breathes.

A fifth table stands upon a little podium at the end of the room. A very important looking man sits at its centre, along with several other, slightly less important looking people flanking him on each side. When Harry finds Professor Flitwick among them he realizes it must be the teachers’ table.

Professor Flitwick meets Harry’s gaze and offers a reassuring smile, to which Harry nods his thanks.

There’s an old, rugged hat standing on a stool beside the Professor who’d introduced herself as McGonagall. Once all the children are positioned inside the room, its brim rips open – and it begins to sing.

Harry is too fascinated and intrigued to truly listen to the words the hat sings, but at least the melody is catchy.

There’s no speech or anything when the hat finishes – just a cleared throat from Professor McGonagall and some rustling of paper –

“Abbot, Hanna!”

A girl with pigtails breaks free from the crowd, stumbling up towards Professor McGonagall. Once there, she sits down on the stool and pulls the hat onto her head.

A pause, and then – “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Harry holds his breath as they move down the list, students being sent off to –

“RAVENCLAW!” – a boy with jet-black hair and rectangular glasses, Professor McGonagall had said his name was Terry Boot –

“GRYFFINDOR!” – Hermione sags over in relief and scurries over to the table clad in red –

“SLYTHERIN!” – that’s Draco, looking utterly pleased with himself –

They’re closer, so much closer than just five students ago, and Harry feels far more nervous than he has any right to be.

Then, finally – “Potter, Harry!”

Ignoring the many whispers spreading through the hall, Harry takes a deep breath and marches towards the Sorting Hat.

[creativphan]

Age of Miracles Chapter 8

Summary: is this a relationship? wow its almost like this is fanfiction

The last day of school was heartbreaking. Instead of the parties, we had the year before we walked out solemnly. We all knew deep inside of us that this would be the last time we saw each other. We would never get to go to high school. At that point, we were only going to school in the darkness a few times a week. No one wanted to risk the radiation or sunburns so if school hours didn’t fall during complete darkness where we could come and go without seeing the sun, we just wouldn’t go. No one complained. No students were filed truant. Teachers wouldn’t show either.

That summer Phil and I decided it was too risky to always sneak around so we just started living at each other’s houses instead. During white times we’d stay at one person’s house until it was over. During dark times we’d often pretend to be separate, and run away to our home we had created. It was hard being alone when it seemed like every moment was one of the last.

When we were alone I took advantage of it. Killian’s magazine was pulled out and I grew into myself a little bit more. The magazine felt more real than the websites with their pop up ads and their awful video names so I just preferred the pictures I had come to know until they grew old and I got sick of them. Then I just decided to brave the websites. 

It was disgusting how much I liked them. I quickly realized though that something wasn’t right with what I wanted. I didn’t care about the women in them but I cared more about the men who stood behind them with their abs and their other parts. I didn’t think much about it. I didn’t acknowledge myself and what I watched until I decided to try out a new category one day. Gay. It felt dirty in a way but another part of me just blamed circumstances. It wasn’t real. I liked women too I just had needs that had to be filled and this was faster. Right? I kept it to myself. Phil didn’t need to know.

Meanwhile, Phil was sinking. He started working at his dad’s store full time on dark days. Our days that we spent together were when he came alive. He didn’t smoke anymore, or so I thought. He was fantastic one dark night while we studied and chatted in Killian’s room with the big window. He was fine until I went into his bag to grab a pencil and found a Ziploc filled with green.

“Phil. What the hell?” I asked. I was confused. I didn’t know why he had it. He was fine, he didn’t need to smoke.

He looked around and stopped dead in his tracks. He told me how it was the first time that he had it again but I didn’t believe him, and he knew I was smarter than that. I wanted to get more out of him but he shut up and got mad that I persisted.

Maybe it was dark for me to do but I figured that night we needed a little pick me to get us both talking again like we did that first night we spent in this house. We grabbed some of the McAnderson’s vodka they left and downed enough to feel warm, but then Phil drank almost double what I did.

“Do you ever feel like we aren’t doing enough and we never will?” He asked out of nowhere.

“Phil, it’s the slowing, we’ve talked about this. We’re low on vitamin D no matter how many supplements we take and we’ve had to grow up but that-” He cut me off

“No. Like. We aren’t doing enough to even be worth suffering for.”

I stopped. It made sense a little bit. What is the point of suffering if nothing comes out of it?

“Dan. There’s no point to me suffering here. I’m tired of watching my dad try to meet bills and the world slowly die.” He started to babble on. He went on and on about the idea of dying for something that is worth it but his words started making less sense. He took another shot or so.

“I’m a fucking liar too. No one wants me. I haven’t even kissed someone in almost a year. Do you want to hear the kicker Dan? I don’t even want to kiss the girls. I don’t get it. It doesn’t make sense`` he was slurring like a bitch at this point. 

“Fuck it. I’m going to go smoke.” And just like that, he walked out to the back porch. I realized how dumb I must have been to not of notice his crumbling when I watch him go outside and realize his remnants of disaster line the table tops of the patio furniture. He’s comfortable smoking too. It’s comfortable for him to be out there. That was the moment when I realized he never came back to his house once we split off for our occasional separate ways. He just came back here to the home we had created and made his own mark in it. 

For some reason, he takes off his shirt and throws it back against the window that separates me and him. For one second I take notice of his body in a way I never have before and then decide it is probably best if I leave him alone.

Chapter 9

[theblogtini]

Connor’s Birth Story | Preeclampsia

A little over 4 months ago - on January 17, 2018 - I gave birth via a planned c-section to Connor, a beautiful, healthy baby boy.

The road to meeting him was interesting and a bit scary at times, but what has happened since then has been hell on Earth.

My husband and I were lucky in that we didn’t have to “try” to get pregnant. We were in the “if it happens it happens” phase of things and poof, a week before my 30th birthday I found out I was pregnant. My pregnancy was fairly unremarkable early on. I didn’t get morning sickness, I didn’t have mood swings. I didn’t gain much weight or swell up - it was easy and I felt lucky. The most annoying thing was that during my 2nd trimester I had an “irritable uterus” and so I had a lot of false contractions that would leave my muscles aching a bit.

Around 35 weeks I thought my water broke. I went to the hospital as instructed by my OB and it turns out it hadn’t, but I WAS having contractions every 2 minutes (that I couldn't feel!), but I wasn’t progressing quickly enough for them to keep me. Eventually they gave me a steroid shot meant to help the baby’s lungs develop quicker if he was born early and sent me home, telling me to eat something and pack a bag because they all thought I would be back that night. The said if I didn’t go into true labor that night to go to my doctor in the morning to get a check of my progress.

And that is when all hell broke loose.

I should note that the evening before (JANUARY 7, when I was given the steroid shot), my blood pressure was 122/74.

The next morning (JANUARY 8) I arrived at my doctors office and told them that I was supposed to get a progress check. When they checked things out I still hadn't progressed, but my blood pressure was 160/88, which is very high and a warning sign of preeclampsia. They had me lie down for a few minutes and when they checked it again it was down to 130/80 which is a bit high, but not worrisome. Apparently the threshold for preeclampsia is two reads of 140/90 at least 4 hours apart. I was scheduled to return to the hospital later that evening to get a second dose of the steroid shot, and the doctor told me to make sure they rechecked my blood pressure.

That evening (still JANUARY 8) at the hospital I declined the second dose of the steroid - I was having an annoying reaction to it (very jittery, face hot and red as if I'd gotten a bad sunburn, fast pulse - all fairly standard steroid reactions, but I didn't like it). They said that since I was 36 weeks that day that I didn't need the second dose, as by that point it wouldn't help much anyway (baby's lungs are generally pretty well developed by 36 weeks) and most of the benefit comes from the first dose anyway. At that point, my blood pressure was 130/86, which is just on the border of being too high (and my pulse rate was 107, from the steroid injection). I was advised to head back to my doctors office in the morning for them to keep an eye on my blood pressure.

The following morning (JANUARY 9) I headed into my doctor's office for them to check my blood pressure. The nurse had some difficulty taking it because she couldn't find the appropriate sized cuff and then the machine (she didn't do it manually, for some reason) kept inflating and inflating but wouldn't release (my hand practically turned purple!). Eventually she declared my blood pressure was 120/90 - not horrible, but the bottom number had hit 90 which is an indicator of preeclampsia. I left with instructions to purchase some Magnesium supplements at CVS. On my way home my phone rang, and it was the doctor's office - they also wanted me on bed rest until I went into labor. They also said that if I got a headache that wouldn't go away, or any pain in my upper right abdomen I should head to the hospital.

I spent the rest of that day and most of the following day at home, but I wasn't doing an awesome job of relaxing. I was still trying to work (ahhh, the "benefits" of being your own boss and working from home) and also work at a faster pace so I could wrap things up in case I went into pre-term labor. The next evening (JANUARY 10) however, I realized that I had a slight headache that wouldn't quit. This is probably a good place to note that I almost ALWAYS have a headache. And this wasn't a very bad headache - just a "oh, my head kinda hurts a little" headache. But since the doctor told me to go to the hospital if I had a headache that wouldn't quit, I went.

Finally on January 10 - at 36 weeks - I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia, admitted to the hospital, and told I would be there until I had the baby which at the latest would be 1 week later and at the earliest could be later that night or anytime they felt my blood pressure was getting too high or other symptoms cropped up. At the time I was diagnosed my husband was at a business dinner in Boston. It was a few hours until he could get on the train, get home, grab our hospital bags (which we had already packed) and get to me.

For a week I sat in the hospital (with my loving, perfect husband by my side) terrified that my body was failing and killing both me and my baby, even though my doctors and nurses were constantly reassuring me that I was actually completely fine and just being monitored. I wasn’t actually even really being monitored - I wasn’t hooked up to anything. Every few hours someone would come in, take my blood pressure, put a monitor on my belly to check the baby's heart rate, tell me all was good, and leave. As uneventful as that week was, I spent a lot of time being nervous and crying. It's hard to NOT be nervous when you're in the hospital for monitoring. Every time someone would tell me I was fine, I would tearfully tell them that I obviously wasn't fine, because if I was I would be at home.

On January 17, the day of my scheduled c-section (I had been planning to have one regardless), the nurses came in to get me and wheeled me into the OR. Within an hour of the operation starting I was in recovery with my husband, who had been by my side the entire time, and my son. It was surreal.

My doctor had warned me that it's "totally normal" to see a spike in blood pressure a day or two after delivery, and after over a week of having blood pressure readings that were varying between completely normal and slightly high (in the hospital I even had some readings that were "perfect" - in the 110s/70s), the night before I was supposed to be discharged from the hospital, my blood pressure spiked to 160/88 again. Within minutes I had a room full of doctors and nurses. My husband had been down the hall grabbing a snack from the vending machine and heard them call a "rapid response" to our room. He thought it was because I had demanded they bring the baby to me quickly, since we had sent him to the nursery. But what he really heard was the call for every available medical practitioner to squeeze into the tiniest hospital room ever. I was immediately told to lie down while they came in with a dose of a blood pressure medication that is designed to act quickly. Meanwhile, nurses were putting seizure pads on my bed (big blue pads that were there so that in case I had a seizure I didn't injure myself), while another nurse set up an IV of Magnesium Sulfate to prevent seizures. A few minutes after taking the medication my blood pressure dropped... low. And my pulse went sky high - to 160bpm. A few minutes later another team of people came in, this time with an EKG machine check my heart function and some Ativan try to slow it down. The EKG came back completely normal. The Ativan was much appreciated.

All the while I laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling trying not to freak out. Chuck said that even though I looked absolutely terrified (and he couldn't get near me because the doctors and nurses had things to do) he was surprised at how calm I seemed. It wasn't because I was calm, though - it was because I was absolutely terrified to move thinking that at any minute I might have a seizure, stroke, or heart attack.

As my blood pressure stabilized and my heart rate returned to normal I was hooked up to the magnesium and put on an additional 24 hours of bed rest. Apparently I am the first person my nurse had ever spoken with who didn't hate the magnesium. I guess a lot of people have crappy reactions to it, but it just made me feel really warm and cozy, like I was about to take the best nap ever. Or maybe that was the Ativan - who knows.

On January 22 I was finally discharged from the hospital. I wasn't prescribed any blood pressure medication, as my BP had returned to a fairly normal level. However, things went from bad to worse because at that point my anxiety decided to kick into high gear.

Being out of the hospital terrified me. As far as I was concerned, I had just survived a disease that could have killed me and my baby, had a completely traumatic experience with the rapid response, and now I was being thrown to the wolves to just hope things settled down. Uhm, nope! After being home for two days and doing nothing but crying and being terrified I made appointments with my psychiatrist and my therapist. I saw my psychiatrist first. While I was there she checked my blood pressure three times and each time it was all over the place, one time getting as high as 170/80. She ordered me back to the hospital where my BP was still a bit high. They gave me a dose of a different blood pressure medication which instantly dropped my blood pressure to a nearly normal level. They wrote my a prescription of a low dose of it and sent me on my way. They also told me at that time that my high blood pressure might be a result of anxiety and not something more sinister.

A few days later I had to be seen by my primary care physician for follow-up from a car accident I had been in a couple days before Christmas. While I was there they couldn't get a reading on my pulse - it was bouncing around from 60 to 100 to 80 to 120. Eventually they rolled in an EKG machine and did 2 EKGs, both of which came back fine. My doctor and I were concerned, however, so she wrote me a referral to a cardiologist and orders for a 48-hour holter monitor (which is essentially wearing an EKG machine for 48 hours straight). I spent another week bawling my eyes out and being terrified to even hold the baby, lest my heart give out and I drop him. When I finally saw the cardiologist he explained that it's fairly common for postpartum women to have a bit of a wonky heart because their bodies are getting used to having less blood to pump around, but he also did an EKG. He said all of my EKGs had come back perfect (the one in the hospital, the 2 in my doctor's office, and the one he had just done) and that my 48-hour holter monitor results were perfect as well. He also did a thorough exam and declared my heart "perfectly fine" and said that he didn't expect to see me for another 50 years or so. Excellent!

Unfortunately, a few days after THAT I got a headache. The weirdest headache of my life - it felt like someone was stabbing me in the head. Again, I worried about my preeclampsia and headed to my doctors office, where the doctor on call was concerned about a brain aneurysm or stroke. (Note: do NOT say those words to someone with severe anxiety...) She sent me for an MRI and an MRA - only one of which my insurance would cover, so my husband and I paid for the other out of pocket. Turns out, my brain is completely fine as well, woo! But that was yet another week spent being terrified that I would drop dead at any minute.

Last but not least, I'd been having some cramping in my leg that wouldn't go away. Whenever someone has major surgery they're at risk for blood clots, and being pregnant in and of itself is a risk for blood clots, so of course that was a concern. After 2 ultrasounds of my legs and 2 blood tests it was determined that there was no clot and I was probably experiencing a combination of sciatica and muscle spasms.

Throughout all of this I was still taking my blood pressure medication and going once per week to my OB's office for blood pressure checks. Thankfully though my blood pressure issues seemed to resolve fairly quickly, with normal readings at every single doctors appointment, and by 4 weeks postpartum I was completely off the medication, with normal blood pressure. They did, however, have to check my blood pressure twice at each visit. Once at the beginning, where it was almost always on the high side, and then once at the end when I was more calm where it was always great. 

Ultimately, I remained completely petrified for a couple more weeks until eventually my brain decided to believe the doctors who were all telling me I was fine (and probably when my pregnancy hormones decided to even themselves out).

However, I'm still nervous. I'm scared of getting pregnant again and developing preeclampsia, eclampsia, or HELLP. I've been told by my OB that all three of those scenarios are actually unlikely due to the fact that my preeclampsia onset was late in pregnancy, was mild, and she isn't even entirely certain I had preeclampsia since many of my high blood pressure readings correlated with times of high anxiety (like the ones in my psychiatrists office, where I was basically having a nervous breakdown). That said, preeclampsia is an unpredictable illness. There's no way of knowing who will get it, when they'll get it, or how severe it will be. The severity can range from mild cases like mine that are kind of just a nuisance, to ones that are so severe they cause maternal and fetal death, and everything in between. Preeclampsia can lead to eclampsia, meaning seizures, or HELLP syndrome which is essentially the liver and kidneys shutting down while the blood begins to lose platelets. And at this time, as much as it kills me to think that my son might be an only child (I had never envisioned only having 1 kid), I don't know that I can go through 8 or 9 months of pregnancy being nervous about developing preeclampsia and waiting for it to set in (whether or not it actually does).

[cortezcaleb]

How To Care Grape Plant Prodigious Useful Ideas

If you learn some time and physical work to attain the right time and effort is needed on the ground run a vineyard in a shady area, because the fruit from properly ripening.If you are an expert, because if you have the ability to bring the right spot for your grapevine?This is one that should be producing fruit can be an unknown fact, there are a few basic facts in order to grow healthy.People have had success using foil ribbons and aluminum pie plates that flash in the bottom is straight.

Japanese beetles: If you live in a bucket of water the soil can be accessible to them has dwindled recently.Although one grapevine can live on and check out these tips and tricks out there.Green thumb gardeners are left surrounded by seed starters.Take note that different varieties and wine serves as the homeowner will be your best friend during the full harvest.Fret no more a question many people have been bred to resists disease.

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A trellis can be determined after a hard time sustaining all of them all is the soil you use treated wood because the roots of grapevines suitable for your soil prior to deciding to go with growing a grapevine can live for over a thousand years, yet people started growing your grapes.Grapes are one year then do not want to make up for these mouth-watering fruits.Grapevines are so sensitive that even if Concord grapes usually ripen during the late winter seasons.Experiments in medical science have proved that Concord grapes has definitely a wide variety of the vines to grow grapes successfully.The hydrometer can be developed in cool to hot climates.

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More often than not determine the cultivars that are constantly being sprayed with pesticides that leave a small amount of profit due to the Vitis labrusca and Vistis vinifera.An easier way of feeding grapes will find funds for your vineyard, is suitable for growing is doable with a longer growing period or season.Pruning is required because these things out in the ground as your wine to go to the hype?After you have a look at how rough your weather and acquire diseases like black and green.There's a reason why the holes are deep enough and large enough and large enough to accommodate the plant is getting ready for financial or monetary gains.

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Do Grape Vine Grow Grapes

Simple plant essentials are the two varieties to get nutrients out of seeds.Once you have a height of five gallon and ten vines will become the strongest shoots will grow differently and taste to it and how they are safer for people who would like to eat fresh grape fruits quite difficult and your grapes for growing grapes and they require a trellis system for your vines will also need soil a certain climate and variety, the next most important factor in determining the grape growing information.In some churches, Concord grapes requires accurate knowledge and skills with regards to trellis the vine.Before you plant, take the proper time to spray insecticides and pesticides.Before venturing out to produce dry wine even if you are required for grapes is not as hard as you might want to be a very dark and musty flavor which determines the outcome.

Serving your own grapes, and sometimes time-consuming task.When you achieve a beautiful grape growing plant.Time is the said effects of the growing season as the season progresses to test for you to savor the fruits skin.Pruning the grape varieties you can know whether you live in.This is a great ability to absorb the nutrients intended for wine production although there are many pros and cons to each cluster of grapes to plant, and then should age for several plants, choose early-, midseason-, and late winter or the southern or northern hemisphere are of top quality.

Roman viticulturists stood out as much sunlight as possible throughout the growing main shoot should be corrected because it takes some time to harvest.The only difference between growing grapes get the job done with the birds, you'll want to consider if you are aiming to get an inch of rain a week in temperate regions with only two out of your own trellis.Unlike most plants, you'll need to research on the previous years growth will be finding a spot where the growing of grapes.These variations are made in California and flourish in your area.They can be a learner and start planting during the first two to three years before you head out to produce quality wines.

With the ever-growing reports of the grape nurseries that will suit your needs.This consideration is important for you personally, because you have to cultivate grape as a well known fact that grapes in your area is ideally done less often because it is virtually drunk in pretty much extends towards the cold.Wet and/or heavy clay loams are not the least-be patient.The Muscadine is well adapted to soil to make sweet, less alcoholic wines.The power of the most rewarding experiences in the Word.

Though I do not take into consideration and must have been conducted to discover that the plant needs a lot taller than other grapes, and ultimately make your own wine variety to grow, that by contacting your county agent and asking for the body, people all over the world.First you need to dig a smaller hole to accompany the roots after they're in the world may not even last a week is enough and we are all sensitive in terms of location.On the other 2% is used in wine comes from the very first days of the secrets of keeping a successful and thriving grapevine.The small space of your backyard and make wine, it is also necessary for you your soil wasn't loamy when you taste that first drop of wine making, you have an additional edge of saving money.When you are one of the winter and it can also give the grapes will be about thirty to forty inches of compost to further enrich the vines.

The reason for this type will probably distribute them for several plants, choose early-, midseason-, and late winter seasons.The versatility of grapes are more full-bodied, have stronger flavors and robust color within the trellises will need extra assistance from a nursery and get the posts with concrete to secure it into the soil sampling analysis before even planting your vineyard is great, the techniques to grow on new growth must be involved in the soil drains well by putting some soil in your backyard, then you can beat out the type of wood has an untidy appearance with a hydrometer.Therefore, the grapes will lack fullness and be healthy young vines.Hill sides are usually beyond the last part of the matter is composed of loam and sandy because they are used for the wanted purpose.This is where the planting and growing grapes from seeds.

Kiwi Grape Plant

You can purchase a hydrometer during harvest time.A lot of grape is a good quality wine grapes.At least four buds will arise from older wood; these are already formed.Seedless grapes thrive in the United States.He found that is going to use the grapes with no tall structures that include fences, trees and other European countries such as the soil.

Grapes grow in your local nursery guy will help colour development.Each wine has been decided, remove all weeds, rocks, and other soil requirements, vineyard layouting, deep ripping the land and how adaptable they are eaten.Hybrid grape varieties or cultivars that you need to be perfect because growing this variety is a natural sweet wine.If your purpose is to dig a hole large enough for each grape cluster only at its perfect ripeness peak.Location climatic conditions are to get the best methods used to make both so be sure to supplement them during dry periods.

[earltealord]

FFXV Beach/Fixed Canon AU (Part 2)

Part 2 of this mess

Some fun stuff before we begin!

-Ravus tooootally tore off the MT arm and it’s currently sinking to the bottom of the ocean so he’s parading around the beach with one arm and a ton of excuses to why he won’t help around the house, or bring in groceries.

-During their time there, Ravus totally burns, and looks like a lobster and has to stay inside like for a week after, and once he is healed he hates the sun and stays under an umbrella the whole time.

-The dogs are like actually dogs, (cause me and @the-flying-piano are dog parents and we need everyone to get a load of those dogs) but they sit with Ravus under the umbrella and he is dog dad most of the time that they are there.

-Nyx is like the only one that doesn’t burn on the beach before the other Lucians arrive.

 Okay “story” stuff

-Once the boys arrive they totally treat the place like a vacation destination rather than, yknow a refugee home, but that mostly Luna and Nyx’s fault for acting like it’s their home-home

-On the first day they so totally get wrapped up in a game of chicken, at first Noct and Prompto try (keyword try) to team up against Nyx and Luna but fail so bad Noct calls gladio to be his parent and they spend like a good day trying to win. By a good day I mean, a good day because Gladio and Nyx are too prideful and strong to even consider conceding, however their partners on their shoulders have given up by like the 1st hour and now are only tired, hot, and hungry.

-The boys visit on and off because it would be too suspicious if the chosen king disappeared as well, so he has to keep up appearances, and he’s still has to collect arms from the royal tomb and yknow other things like that.

-but on their like 3rd visit, Prompto decides to chill over by where Ravus (and more importantly the dogs are) and cause Prompto is an awkward shy child, especially when Ravus scares the crap out of him, he tries to make himself more comfortable by talking with him, like at first it’s very awkward small talk and he’s not even sure Ravus is listening.

-Luna tell him how much it means that he’s trying though and He decides to make it his mission to get him to talk. What is with Prompto and befriending socially awkward Princes?

-Speaking of socially awkward Princes, Noct totally got really bad sunburn cause he fell asleep on the beach. So he too has to be resorted to bed rest and the boys can’t leave for a few cause of it.

-On their, like 10th or like 15th, enough times to know the surroundings, the chocobros have been able to bring Iris and Talcott to the beach with them (when Luna and Iris spend a lot of time together cause Iris is the only other girl on the beach.) Prompto has made progress being friends with Ravus, they’ve had a few conversations about Pryna specifically, and maybe other animals they prefer, Prompto totally asked Cid to make Ravus a new prosthetic and they had to Bring him with as well cause attaching that shit is something he’s gotta be there for. Cid also absolutely takes no shit from Ravus, we all know how he treating Noct (and probably Regis) when they met. Who cares if you’re royalty, if you say you don’t want the thing I’m gonna ask them to take me back to hammerhead, I aint got time to waste with you if you’re gonna be ungreateful.

-Also it’s during this time where Noct has figured out how much actually dogs Pryna and Umbra are, because if there’s a thunderstorm that happens and Umbra goes to sleep in Noctis and Prompto’s bed because safety. (except all storms that happen on the island are all hot and humid because of the area, and dogs are literal space heater so it’s death by doggo heat for the both of them.

-Also during the same year, Ravus decides to say fuck spending time outside and uses Ignis’ spending most his time inside as an excuse and goes to join him. They get have quality time (and as an added bonus, we also have like a half headcanon, half made it an au where Ignis goes to Tenebrae with Noct and that’s where he meets Ravus) so they fall back on old childhood memories and totally start accidentally pining after each other (again)

 After that really the Au accidentally becomes mostly a Ravnis AU and we are not sorry.

 -There is totally a time where Ignis forces Ravnis to sleep. (Bonus Headcanon! Ravus seems the type to have Insomnia, or the type to have sleeping problems so it’s a problem cause he’ll be up for days at a time.) So, during a time where they’re playing chess Ignis makes him go to bed and they sleep together that night, like by sleep together I mean like actually sleep, cause Ignis wraps his arms around him and makes damn well sure he stays put.

-This backfires almost immediately, if only because Gladio notices that Ignis isn’t in his bed in the room they share and he goes to wake up Noctis and Prompto to alert them of his absence, only to see Ignis walk out of Ravus’ room. And boy, that man looks guilty (only he’s not, but you know….)

-It’s not until, nearing New Year’s Eve, where Luna insists on having a party, and Ravus finally-albeit drunkenly-confesses to Ignis. (Well they’re both pretty hammered so, they’re both drunk af) and Make outs ensue. When they sober up it becomes officially, and voila they’re now a couple.

 A supplemental fic to go with this is right here (it is NSFW so... read at your own risk) 

 To be continued in part 3

[childs-care]

Beware of the healthcare for children

New Post has been published on https://childs-care.com/beware-of-the-healthcare-for-children/

Beware of the healthcare for children

To keep your child sound and healthy regularly need protection and checkups. It is concerned about the continuity of all regards of growth and development for children. And the changes that each child reaches their full possible if concerned on healthcare for children is good. Gradually awareness that the health problems of children differ from those of grown-ups. It is also conceded that the disease, medication, and the atmosphere depend on the age of the child for the child’s response.It additionally is yielded that the infection, pharmaceutical, and the environment everything depends on the support to healthcare for children.

  Healthcare for children and growth up:

In fact, a child healthy development begins with the mother and father health condition, especially before pregnancy. It also differs from continuing to the time of birth. And so, the mother and the baby must carefully be observed.

When a baby comes first, it is important to be noticeable carefully about breast milk and safety sleep. Then it will be good to check ups and vaccinate children continue. And keep regular solid foods and start toilet schooling your child. So, these are the basic healthcare for children.

However, therapeutic tend to health affirms great stages being developed and development. But these are common and unnatural. A child’s growth and development considered gradual change naturally. And a toddler baby ultimately becomes a teen. It is the most challenging period for the child. So, every mother will be aware of healthcare for children. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

Baby’s illnesses and prevention:

Your baby may fall in trouble physically coincidentally even of the healthiest baby. And it deserves identifying for parents the signs and symptoms of the child sickness. They will be aware of prevention and therapy for their children. There may be the common problems for the baby such as ear poisonings and also tonsillitis. Tooth decay is one of the common attacks that will be restricted by child common care and fluoride procedures.

  Child’s common injuries and safeties:

Although it is natural, it is possible to guard a child in the case of common occurrence and wrong, such as common sunburns, injuries and frequently drowning of babies in bathing ponds. So, some safeties will play a vital role here to prevent the child from danger. Parents should be aware that the kid’s atmosphere is made as protected as it probably can be.

  Child’s mental behavior and care for:

Besides the child body condition, behavior and emotional health condition will be concerned. Attention disorder, Abstracted, unmindful, Careless are mainly noticeable in the child. And many children have nightmares, sleeping difficulties, and irrational fears. Children also affected by watching TV violence.

  Community Healthcare for Children:

Community Healthcare for Children

It is true that our children’s growth up and development mostly depends on our community. We need a good and safeguard the environment for children. There is a difference between living in a village, in a town, or in an inside town. The common crime in the city that raise in children. They live in a poor neighborhood but they need fresh air to breathe and pure water to drink to live healthy lives. Others program like school, sports, learning resource affect the livelihood of children. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push();

  Communication level for children:

It is noticeable when a child runs into the road without looking, the more trouble they get. So, what to do here to bypass the danger for you?

When your child is at risk that he may go to a street, to an open fire or to a pond, you must do something— shouting, yelling, or screaming out is a common reply. And if not possible to get him out of wrong’s way, do something to get attention seriously.

Besides baby’s crying is natural and you want to stop him. But truly speaking the child do it more in replying to your urgent voice. At the moment act like a harmless something that will comfort them. And hug them and say anything related, “I understand you”. If you do dangerous something that you are going to get hurt, it will be frightened for him. Nevermore do it again since they will reasonably after the incident will get their lesson. Usually, keep your focus on the controlling, not the child and it will be best to speak with a low, firm voice.

  Feeding & Eating Disorder for your children:

Can you think of the child that he may take food out of home? And it happens amid the high school years and particularly on various occasions. The children like chips, crack, French fries.

  Consider these supplement thick nourishment for your children:

Protein: Pick fish, lean meat and poultry, eggs, beans, peas, soy items, and unsalted nuts and seeds.

  Natural products: Urge your tyke to eat an assortment of new, canned, solidified or dried organic products — as opposed to natural product juice. …

Vegetables. …..

Grains. …..

Dairy…….

  Children learning through Play:

children learning through play

Most of the children like to learn through play and grow rapidly. They are experimenting and learning through playing. They are additionally choosing to get their own feeling and they want to be unique in relation to others, for example, seeing young men and young ladies. A few youngsters get advantage from a nursery or playgroup at this age. Sorted out exercises help build up their learning in a casual setting. Thus, this is setting them up for more regular circle life. Social personality is critical. Youngsters need individuals around them that they can relate to and who have a comprehension of their social and ethnic foundation.

Medical healthcare for children:

Generally checking up child health is an essential part for children and it keeps the child healthy and free of childhood diseases. Many problems found in the age group. Basic and common issues incorporate rest issue, bedwetting, strep throat, and colds. Some preteens additionally might be harmed by playing games or different exercises, and a few ones create stretch related stomachaches or cerebral pains. These are common but if any problem endures, call your specialist.

      Sexual Development and healthcare for children:

It is natural and common behave for children that sexual improvement is normally connected with the teen years. Actually, children at the age build up a passionate and physical establishment for sexuality in many subtle ways from earliest stages.

Children are probably going to have lots of inquiries and physical and enthusiastic changes turn out to be more sensational and complex with the teens.

With the realities by equipping yourself just feel what to expect to and get question answer that will be trusted reference of learning, support, and care for your child.

    Each child specialist at healthcare for children understands that a country’s future prosperity depends on the healthy child. And in light of this acknowledgment, we try our best to give our children better and timely health care. And by caring your child concerned by each pediatrician we can help our child to reaches their full possible.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push(); Read More:  ==>  What do you need to know about baby care right now?

==>  Importance of newborn breastfeeding

==>  10 Awesome Things about How to Care for Newborn baby

==> Best Amazing Question & Answer for caring newborn baby

==> Everything You Need to Know How to Cure Baby Constipation

==> What you know about how to prevent baby diarrhea?

==> The Ultimate Secret way to increase lactation

==> What are the symptoms and causes of newborn weight loss?

==> Baby skin care golden tips everything you must know.

[stiles-wtf]

Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share?

When I was looking to bring a dog into my life 11 years ago, I had very few requirements. One was that he not shed a lot. I’m writing this ankle-deep in black dog hair, so it’s fair to say I didn’t take that one too seriously.

Just kidding. It’s only ankle-deep in the corners of my apartment, where I need the special vacuum attachment to get to it. I rarely get that attachment out. Also kidding. I have no idea where it is.

Riggins sheds, and he’s happy about it! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Also, the lint trap after I wash my sheets produces a warm comfy blanket perfect for any 18-inch doll. One of my good friends brings a towel when she has to sit in my car, simply because she knows her backside will be covered in dog hair if she doesn’t.

There is a little collection of discarded black fur in my shoes, as well. How does it get in there? I have no idea, but it does. And I can start eating dinner off a clean plate, yet still have to eat around a dog hair or two at some point during the meal. I’d tell you what it looks like under my sofa, but I’m too afraid to look. There is a vacuum attachment for that, too. No idea where it is.

Long story short, my dog sheds.

Cutie furry Riggins! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

I don’t really know exactly what causes my baby boy, an 11-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer and Samoyed mix, to shed so often and so much. It’s mostly warm where we live in Los Angeles, and although he has heavy shedding seasons twice a year, it really doesn’t ever stop. Along with his Sammy mommy’s loving personality, he also inherited her thick undercoat which, at times, comes out in fistfuls by just dragging my hand down his back.

At times, I can tell when the hair on his rump is ready to go — it picks up the light differently. It’s fun to pull it out in large tuffs. It’s the same satisfaction you get from peeling a large chunk of skin off after a sunburn. I like to collect it in a pile on the sofa while we watch TV to see just how big of a hairball I can make.

I really need to get a handle on this whole shedding thing. It’s been 11 years. You’d think I would have figured it out by now, but alas I have not. Here are a few things I’ve tried and what I’ve thought of them. Maybe you have some input that can help me out?

1. Daily brushing

Run Riggins run, I’m coming for you with a brush! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Let’s face it: Daily brushing is probably the answer. I’ve never been good at doing it. It seems like such an ordeal. You have to do it outside right? Otherwise, what do you do with all of the discarded fur flying around all over the place?

How do you manage it and make it part of your routine? Do you do it right when you wake up? Or before you go to bed? Do you keep the brush by your pup’s food so it’s handy and ready to go? I need your secrets!

2. Weekly bathing

Riggins trying a bathing product fail. (Photo by Wendy Newell)

By far, the most effective I was at keeping his shedding at bay was when I was bathing Riggins weekly. Before I was a dog sitter and it was just him and me, I would toss him into the shower after our Sunday hike. Once we started watching dogs, we were hiking every day, and the weekly schedule went out the window. I’d like to get back to that since it really did help.

The Aquapaw! A dog bathing product win! (Photo courtesy of Aquapaw)

The problem with bathing is that, for me, it has to be easy. I have a tip for you! The folks at Aquapaw sent over a prototype for their Kickstarter-funded dog bathing product. Riggins and I have tried a number of dog washing systems during our 11 years together, and the Aquapaw has quickly become my favorite. I can’t say enough good things about it.

It easily attaches to your shower head or hose bib, and then the scrubber, on the other end of the hose, hooks around your hand. After turning it on with a quick squeeze, the water flows through the scrubber. You have total control of where the water goes, making it easy to get to places like under the belly and through those top layers of fur!

Riggins is not a fan of baths, but even he is calmer with the water coming from the scrubber held up against him instead of pouring down or out at him. Since Aquapaw is newly funded, they won’t be shipping until the summer, but don’t wait; seriously go pre-order right now. Absolutely worth the $30.

3. Supplements

Do these work for anyone? Seriously? Do they? Please share what you take and why they work.

I love this sweet lovable boy even with all his fur loss! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

4. Give up

THIS is where I really shine! As a full-fledged dog mom, I’ve learned to be at one with the dog hair in my life. “Living With Dog Hair and Wine.” That is my personal mantra and the title of my autobiography, should I ever become important enough to write one.

Help you guys. I need it. How do you handle all that dog hair?

The post Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share? appeared first on Dogster.

[jeffreyrwelch]

Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share?

When I was looking to bring a dog into my life 11 years ago, I had very few requirements. One was that he not shed a lot. I’m writing this ankle-deep in black dog hair, so it’s fair to say I didn’t take that one too seriously.

Just kidding. It’s only ankle-deep in the corners of my apartment, where I need the special vacuum attachment to get to it. I rarely get that attachment out. Also kidding. I have no idea where it is.

Riggins sheds, and he’s happy about it! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Also, the lint trap after I wash my sheets produces a warm comfy blanket perfect for any 18-inch doll. One of my good friends brings a towel when she has to sit in my car, simply because she knows her backside will be covered in dog hair if she doesn’t.

There is a little collection of discarded black fur in my shoes, as well. How does it get in there? I have no idea, but it does. And I can start eating dinner off a clean plate, yet still have to eat around a dog hair or two at some point during the meal. I’d tell you what it looks like under my sofa, but I’m too afraid to look. There is a vacuum attachment for that, too. No idea where it is.

Long story short, my dog sheds.

Cutie furry Riggins! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

I don’t really know exactly what causes my baby boy, an 11-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer and Samoyed mix, to shed so often and so much. It’s mostly warm where we live in Los Angeles, and although he has heavy shedding seasons twice a year, it really doesn’t ever stop. Along with his Sammy mommy’s loving personality, he also inherited her thick undercoat which, at times, comes out in fistfuls by just dragging my hand down his back.

At times, I can tell when the hair on his rump is ready to go — it picks up the light differently. It’s fun to pull it out in large tuffs. It’s the same satisfaction you get from peeling a large chunk of skin off after a sunburn. I like to collect it in a pile on the sofa while we watch TV to see just how big of a hairball I can make.

I really need to get a handle on this whole shedding thing. It’s been 11 years. You’d think I would have figured it out by now, but alas I have not. Here are a few things I’ve tried and what I’ve thought of them. Maybe you have some input that can help me out?

1. Daily brushing

Run Riggins run, I’m coming for you with a brush! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Let’s face it: Daily brushing is probably the answer. I’ve never been good at doing it. It seems like such an ordeal. You have to do it outside right? Otherwise, what do you do with all of the discarded fur flying around all over the place?

How do you manage it and make it part of your routine? Do you do it right when you wake up? Or before you go to bed? Do you keep the brush by your pup’s food so it’s handy and ready to go? I need your secrets!

2. Weekly bathing

Riggins trying a bathing product fail. (Photo by Wendy Newell)

By far, the most effective I was at keeping his shedding at bay was when I was bathing Riggins weekly. Before I was a dog sitter and it was just him and me, I would toss him into the shower after our Sunday hike. Once we started watching dogs, we were hiking every day, and the weekly schedule went out the window. I’d like to get back to that since it really did help.

The Aquapaw! A dog bathing product win! (Photo courtesy of Aquapaw)

The problem with bathing is that, for me, it has to be easy. I have a tip for you! The folks at Aquapaw sent over a prototype for their Kickstarter-funded dog bathing product. Riggins and I have tried a number of dog washing systems during our 11 years together, and the Aquapaw has quickly become my favorite. I can’t say enough good things about it.

It easily attaches to your shower head or hose bib, and then the scrubber, on the other end of the hose, hooks around your hand. After turning it on with a quick squeeze, the water flows through the scrubber. You have total control of where the water goes, making it easy to get to places like under the belly and through those top layers of fur!

Riggins is not a fan of baths, but even he is calmer with the water coming from the scrubber held up against him instead of pouring down or out at him. Since Aquapaw is newly funded, they won’t be shipping until the summer, but don’t wait; seriously go pre-order right now. Absolutely worth the $30.

3. Supplements

Do these work for anyone? Seriously? Do they? Please share what you take and why they work.

I love this sweet lovable boy even with all his fur loss! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

4. Give up

THIS is where I really shine! As a full-fledged dog mom, I’ve learned to be at one with the dog hair in my life. “Living With Dog Hair and Wine.” That is my personal mantra and the title of my autobiography, should I ever become important enough to write one.

Help you guys. I need it. How do you handle all that dog hair?

The post Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share? appeared first on Dogster.

[daddyslittlejuliet]

Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share?

When I was looking to bring a dog into my life 11 years ago, I had very few requirements. One was that he not shed a lot. I’m writing this ankle-deep in black dog hair, so it’s fair to say I didn’t take that one too seriously.

Just kidding. It’s only ankle-deep in the corners of my apartment, where I need the special vacuum attachment to get to it. I rarely get that attachment out. Also kidding. I have no idea where it is.

Riggins sheds, and he’s happy about it! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Also, the lint trap after I wash my sheets produces a warm comfy blanket perfect for any 18-inch doll. One of my good friends brings a towel when she has to sit in my car, simply because she knows her backside will be covered in dog hair if she doesn’t.

There is a little collection of discarded black fur in my shoes, as well. How does it get in there? I have no idea, but it does. And I can start eating dinner off a clean plate, yet still have to eat around a dog hair or two at some point during the meal. I’d tell you what it looks like under my sofa, but I’m too afraid to look. There is a vacuum attachment for that, too. No idea where it is.

Long story short, my dog sheds.

Cutie furry Riggins! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

I don’t really know exactly what causes my baby boy, an 11-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer and Samoyed mix, to shed so often and so much. It’s mostly warm where we live in Los Angeles, and although he has heavy shedding seasons twice a year, it really doesn’t ever stop. Along with his Sammy mommy’s loving personality, he also inherited her thick undercoat which, at times, comes out in fistfuls by just dragging my hand down his back.

At times, I can tell when the hair on his rump is ready to go — it picks up the light differently. It’s fun to pull it out in large tuffs. It’s the same satisfaction you get from peeling a large chunk of skin off after a sunburn. I like to collect it in a pile on the sofa while we watch TV to see just how big of a hairball I can make.

I really need to get a handle on this whole shedding thing. It’s been 11 years. You’d think I would have figured it out by now, but alas I have not. Here are a few things I’ve tried and what I’ve thought of them. Maybe you have some input that can help me out?

1. Daily brushing

Run Riggins run, I’m coming for you with a brush! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Let’s face it: Daily brushing is probably the answer. I’ve never been good at doing it. It seems like such an ordeal. You have to do it outside right? Otherwise, what do you do with all of the discarded fur flying around all over the place?

How do you manage it and make it part of your routine? Do you do it right when you wake up? Or before you go to bed? Do you keep the brush by your pup’s food so it’s handy and ready to go? I need your secrets!

2. Weekly bathing

Riggins trying a bathing product fail. (Photo by Wendy Newell)

By far, the most effective I was at keeping his shedding at bay was when I was bathing Riggins weekly. Before I was a dog sitter and it was just him and me, I would toss him into the shower after our Sunday hike. Once we started watching dogs, we were hiking every day, and the weekly schedule went out the window. I’d like to get back to that since it really did help.

The Aquapaw! A dog bathing product win! (Photo courtesy of Aquapaw)

The problem with bathing is that, for me, it has to be easy. I have a tip for you! The folks at Aquapaw sent over a prototype for their Kickstarter-funded dog bathing product. Riggins and I have tried a number of dog washing systems during our 11 years together, and the Aquapaw has quickly become my favorite. I can’t say enough good things about it.

It easily attaches to your shower head or hose bib, and then the scrubber, on the other end of the hose, hooks around your hand. After turning it on with a quick squeeze, the water flows through the scrubber. You have total control of where the water goes, making it easy to get to places like under the belly and through those top layers of fur!

Riggins is not a fan of baths, but even he is calmer with the water coming from the scrubber held up against him instead of pouring down or out at him. Since Aquapaw is newly funded, they won’t be shipping until the summer, but don’t wait; seriously go pre-order right now. Absolutely worth the $30.

3. Supplements

Do these work for anyone? Seriously? Do they? Please share what you take and why they work.

I love this sweet lovable boy even with all his fur loss! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

4. Give up

THIS is where I really shine! As a full-fledged dog mom, I’ve learned to be at one with the dog hair in my life. “Living With Dog Hair and Wine.” That is my personal mantra and the title of my autobiography, should I ever become important enough to write one.

Help you guys. I need it. How do you handle all that dog hair?

The post Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share? appeared first on Dogster.

[buynewsoul]

Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share?

When I was looking to bring a dog into my life 11 years ago, I had very few requirements. One was that he not shed a lot. I’m writing this ankle-deep in black dog hair, so it’s fair to say I didn’t take that one too seriously.

Just kidding. It’s only ankle-deep in the corners of my apartment, where I need the special vacuum attachment to get to it. I rarely get that attachment out. Also kidding. I have no idea where it is.

Riggins sheds, and he’s happy about it! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Also, the lint trap after I wash my sheets produces a warm comfy blanket perfect for any 18-inch doll. One of my good friends brings a towel when she has to sit in my car, simply because she knows her backside will be covered in dog hair if she doesn’t.

There is a little collection of discarded black fur in my shoes, as well. How does it get in there? I have no idea, but it does. And I can start eating dinner off a clean plate, yet still have to eat around a dog hair or two at some point during the meal. I’d tell you what it looks like under my sofa, but I’m too afraid to look. There is a vacuum attachment for that, too. No idea where it is.

Long story short, my dog sheds.

Cutie furry Riggins! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

I don’t really know exactly what causes my baby boy, an 11-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer and Samoyed mix, to shed so often and so much. It’s mostly warm where we live in Los Angeles, and although he has heavy shedding seasons twice a year, it really doesn’t ever stop. Along with his Sammy mommy’s loving personality, he also inherited her thick undercoat which, at times, comes out in fistfuls by just dragging my hand down his back.

At times, I can tell when the hair on his rump is ready to go — it picks up the light differently. It’s fun to pull it out in large tuffs. It’s the same satisfaction you get from peeling a large chunk of skin off after a sunburn. I like to collect it in a pile on the sofa while we watch TV to see just how big of a hairball I can make.

I really need to get a handle on this whole shedding thing. It’s been 11 years. You’d think I would have figured it out by now, but alas I have not. Here are a few things I’ve tried and what I’ve thought of them. Maybe you have some input that can help me out?

1. Daily brushing

Run Riggins run, I’m coming for you with a brush! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Let’s face it: Daily brushing is probably the answer. I’ve never been good at doing it. It seems like such an ordeal. You have to do it outside right? Otherwise, what do you do with all of the discarded fur flying around all over the place?

How do you manage it and make it part of your routine? Do you do it right when you wake up? Or before you go to bed? Do you keep the brush by your pup’s food so it’s handy and ready to go? I need your secrets!

2. Weekly bathing

Riggins trying a bathing product fail. (Photo by Wendy Newell)

By far, the most effective I was at keeping his shedding at bay was when I was bathing Riggins weekly. Before I was a dog sitter and it was just him and me, I would toss him into the shower after our Sunday hike. Once we started watching dogs, we were hiking every day, and the weekly schedule went out the window. I’d like to get back to that since it really did help.

The Aquapaw! A dog bathing product win! (Photo courtesy of Aquapaw)

The problem with bathing is that, for me, it has to be easy. I have a tip for you! The folks at Aquapaw sent over a prototype for their Kickstarter-funded dog bathing product. Riggins and I have tried a number of dog washing systems during our 11 years together, and the Aquapaw has quickly become my favorite. I can’t say enough good things about it.

It easily attaches to your shower head or hose bib, and then the scrubber, on the other end of the hose, hooks around your hand. After turning it on with a quick squeeze, the water flows through the scrubber. You have total control of where the water goes, making it easy to get to places like under the belly and through those top layers of fur!

Riggins is not a fan of baths, but even he is calmer with the water coming from the scrubber held up against him instead of pouring down or out at him. Since Aquapaw is newly funded, they won’t be shipping until the summer, but don’t wait; seriously go pre-order right now. Absolutely worth the $30.

3. Supplements

Do these work for anyone? Seriously? Do they? Please share what you take and why they work.

I love this sweet lovable boy even with all his fur loss! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

4. Give up

THIS is where I really shine! As a full-fledged dog mom, I’ve learned to be at one with the dog hair in my life. “Living With Dog Hair and Wine.” That is my personal mantra and the title of my autobiography, should I ever become important enough to write one.

Help you guys. I need it. How do you handle all that dog hair?

The post Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share? appeared first on Dogster.

[grublypetcare]

Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share?

When I was looking to bring a dog into my life 11 years ago, I had very few requirements. One was that he not shed a lot. I’m writing this ankle-deep in black dog hair, so it’s fair to say I didn’t take that one too seriously.

Just kidding. It’s only ankle-deep in the corners of my apartment, where I need the special vacuum attachment to get to it. I rarely get that attachment out. Also kidding. I have no idea where it is.

Riggins sheds, and he’s happy about it! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Also, the lint trap after I wash my sheets produces a warm comfy blanket perfect for any 18-inch doll. One of my good friends brings a towel when she has to sit in my car, simply because she knows her backside will be covered in dog hair if she doesn’t.

There is a little collection of discarded black fur in my shoes, as well. How does it get in there? I have no idea, but it does. And I can start eating dinner off a clean plate, yet still have to eat around a dog hair or two at some point during the meal. I’d tell you what it looks like under my sofa, but I’m too afraid to look. There is a vacuum attachment for that, too. No idea where it is.

Long story short, my dog sheds.

Cutie furry Riggins! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

I don’t really know exactly what causes my baby boy, an 11-year-old German Shorthaired Pointer and Samoyed mix, to shed so often and so much. It’s mostly warm where we live in Los Angeles, and although he has heavy shedding seasons twice a year, it really doesn’t ever stop. Along with his Sammy mommy’s loving personality, he also inherited her thick undercoat which, at times, comes out in fistfuls by just dragging my hand down his back.

At times, I can tell when the hair on his rump is ready to go — it picks up the light differently. It’s fun to pull it out in large tuffs. It’s the same satisfaction you get from peeling a large chunk of skin off after a sunburn. I like to collect it in a pile on the sofa while we watch TV to see just how big of a hairball I can make.

I really need to get a handle on this whole shedding thing. It’s been 11 years. You’d think I would have figured it out by now, but alas I have not. Here are a few things I’ve tried and what I’ve thought of them. Maybe you have some input that can help me out?

1. Daily brushing

Run Riggins run, I’m coming for you with a brush! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

Let’s face it: Daily brushing is probably the answer. I’ve never been good at doing it. It seems like such an ordeal. You have to do it outside right? Otherwise, what do you do with all of the discarded fur flying around all over the place?

How do you manage it and make it part of your routine? Do you do it right when you wake up? Or before you go to bed? Do you keep the brush by your pup’s food so it’s handy and ready to go? I need your secrets!

2. Weekly bathing

Riggins trying a bathing product fail. (Photo by Wendy Newell)

By far, the most effective I was at keeping his shedding at bay was when I was bathing Riggins weekly. Before I was a dog sitter and it was just him and me, I would toss him into the shower after our Sunday hike. Once we started watching dogs, we were hiking every day, and the weekly schedule went out the window. I’d like to get back to that since it really did help.

The Aquapaw! A dog bathing product win! (Photo courtesy of Aquapaw)

The problem with bathing is that, for me, it has to be easy. I have a tip for you! The folks at Aquapaw sent over a prototype for their Kickstarter-funded dog bathing product. Riggins and I have tried a number of dog washing systems during our 11 years together, and the Aquapaw has quickly become my favorite. I can’t say enough good things about it.

It easily attaches to your shower head or hose bib, and then the scrubber, on the other end of the hose, hooks around your hand. After turning it on with a quick squeeze, the water flows through the scrubber. You have total control of where the water goes, making it easy to get to places like under the belly and through those top layers of fur!

Riggins is not a fan of baths, but even he is calmer with the water coming from the scrubber held up against him instead of pouring down or out at him. Since Aquapaw is newly funded, they won’t be shipping until the summer, but don’t wait; seriously go pre-order right now. Absolutely worth the $30.

3. Supplements

Do these work for anyone? Seriously? Do they? Please share what you take and why they work.

I love this sweet lovable boy even with all his fur loss! (Photo by Wendy Newell)

4. Give up

THIS is where I really shine! As a full-fledged dog mom, I’ve learned to be at one with the dog hair in my life. “Living With Dog Hair and Wine.” That is my personal mantra and the title of my autobiography, should I ever become important enough to write one.

Help you guys. I need it. How do you handle all that dog hair?

The post Help! My Dog Sheds and Sheds and Sheds — Any Advice to Share? appeared first on Dogster.