#life as a temporary twig pig
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Okay so here's what's going on with the bird crimes.
On thursday I was going to Powers Park when I saw what I thought were 2 chickens hanging out in the parking lot, and a lady watching them from the fence. I thought... they could belong to the lady, but chickens aren't the kind of pet that you just let hang out loose.
I approach.
Lady: "These aren't mine."
I look closer. Its actually 2 roosters, one of which is a very small breed and is missing his tail feathers. Both of them have an injury to their backside- like its been plucked.
So we talk about what to do, I end up calling Animal Control. The actual Animal Control officer doesn't get there until noon, I get a police dispatcher. She says she can send one of the cops to grab them until the actual professional gets there.
I tell her that the roosters are being kept by the woman I met, she's coaxing them into her house.
I post about it on the facebook group in case someone knows who they belong to. The comments are full of jokes, obviously. But no leads. Eventually the big rooster gets caught by someone running a sanctuary for abandoned and abused livestock, but they're still looking for the little black one. Evidently they got out of the lady's backyard and were loose again.
I figure he's going to be a coyote snack and don't think about it for the rest of the week.
So now it is Sunday and I'm opening up the bathrooms. I'm at Summit Grove park and as I'm about to reserve the shelter for a birthday party I see...
A black pigeon.
Pigeons are not a common animal in this area- you're more likely to see house sparrows, crows, and mourning doves. So that's odd. What's more, she doesn't seem to be skittish and is definitely accustomed to humans. And she keeps trying to bite my fingers, so she associates hands with food and she's skinny as a rail so she's been abandoned for a minute.
Why does this keep happening to me? Is this the Morrigan come to teach me a lesson in pigeon form?
So I remember the number of the woman running the sanctuary and I give her a call. I tell her I've got a pigeon here that can't fly, is super hungry, and doesn't seem to have any issues biting fingers. She says she can't take her, but she can find a home for her because pigeons have specific needs. But she won't be able to get there until 12:30. We (my work partner and I) have to deal with the bird in the meantime.
We absolutely cannot take this bird with us on our route because we are in a tiny truck cab and don't have a cat carrier to put her in. So our solution is to lock her in the janitor's closet until the rep can get here.
Around 12:15, we head back to the shelter to make sure she's still there and hasn't been disturbed... and I realize that the reason I even saw her in the first place...
...was because there was supposed to be a birthday party at the shelter at noon.
The party is strongly underway and they have shoved a table against the door of the closet.
The sanctuary lady comes by and waves, we ask the party people politely to move the table slightly because we're trying to rehome a pigeon that's inside that closet.
They move the table, but not all guests see this interaction- because it looks like a bunch of maintenance people are just here to boss folks around during a little girl's birthday party and this draws a crowd.
The sanctuary rep arrives and we open the door just a little bit to let the bird out. She bobbles towards us, hoping for food, when one of the older ladies at the party exclaims:
"Does that ANIMAL just LIVE in there?!"
I mean... sure. For the past few hours, she did live in there.
"Do you have any IDEA how many DISEASES pigeons carry?"
The rep scoops the pigeon into her arms and takes her out of the shelter area to inspect her wings, feet, and back. She shows us her breastbone and explains that its been several days since the bird ate anything, which was why it was going for fingers.
Meanwhile, Aunt Ornithophobia over here: "I can't BELIEVE you would just TOUCH a BIRD like that in front of CHILDREN!"
We take the bird away to the van so the rep can thank us and explain what likely happened- which is that someone abandoned the bird when they couldn't take care of her anymore they just let her loose.
"I understand you got one of the roosters," I said.
"Yes, the big one. But the little bantam rooster is very fast- he darted into someone's backyard and I never found him again. If you see him, give me a call."
"I've been told that chickens are legal to own here, but roosters are not."
She gets an exasperated look on her face. "If you're going to allow backyard chickens, you're going to have to allow roosters. It's impossible to sex an avian chick and they don't get their dimorphic traits until they've reached the young adult stage and chick sellers don't care about whether they're a hen or a rooster. They care about the sale. We get roosters more often than egg-layers because someone sold them a male as a female and they don't want to pay the fine. I'd rather have the laws allow both, or neither. But disallowing roosters is patently stupid."
"Hm. Well. Note to self."
"Anyways, you're heroes to this little rock dove and I want you two to know that. She's going on a trip to a bird sanctuary in Toledo where she'll have lots and lots of snacks to eat that aren't fingers."
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insomniac-dot-ink · 6 years ago
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The Maiden and the Bog Hag
Genre: fantasy, mythology, wlw
Words: 7k
Summary: A maiden betrothed to the crown prince frequents a bridge that a bog hag lives under
they begin to chat
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warning: for injury and some disturbing imagery
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I was a little over 400 years when she arrived. Young for the ages, old for what I used to be.
I felt the vibrations before I saw her: dainty feet, an uneven tilt to her steps, sloppy, like pancakes hitting the hot skillet and scattering. I bet my last five teeth that she was a late-walker, late to crawl, late to lumber across my path.
My lips curl back and I grin wildly, not like something like that would matter after this.
She takes five steps across the wooden planks, barefoot, like she was tempting me with a prayer, then stops. I wait for another minute for those prime pale ankles to come within my reach, but she just stands there.
I peak quietly out of the hole and scowl when I saw a head sticking down over the edge of the railing. Rivers of lank blonde hair cascade toward the water, a small face, frowning slightly, nose wrinkled and eyes sharp- like needle points or homing beacons.
They were pale green eyes under expressive eyebrows, thick and rounded for her small face.
Her mouth quirked to the side and her nose was too big for her small features, I snort loudly. She was wickedly beautiful, I would eat her now if she wasn’t looking at me with the directness only arrogance can summon.
I present my darkened teeth to her, spreading my long thin fingers out and leaning into the dim light, the muddy water parts around me.
“Well, well, well,” I flex my fingers and make the ripples dance, “they really do serve themselves up on a platter these days.” I lick my lips rapaciously.
The young woman just makes her hair flutter as she tilts her head, still observing me upside down. “I don’t think so.” She finally says and then flashes me her fine fingers, chubby and small to match her figure. One golden rose ring shines from her pointer finger, I hiss.
“Royal brat.” She shrugs and finally stands up to peer down at me, “come out.” I scowl, “you may have immunity, but I don’t take orders. You are all temporary,” I squat down into the sludge and pout, “I am the trees and wind. You will pass, I will not.” “Yeah, yeah,” she flicks her wrist, “I just wanna see.” I slit my eyes, “what the inside of my belly looks like? I’d be happy to accomodate.” She could only be around 18, young, blithe, angry about something I couldn’t guess at.
She cushions her chin on her folded arms and blinks down, “I wish I looked like you.” I make a face, more of one than usual, “The little girl wants the devil under her skin. How special.” The girl rolls her eyes in a magnificent circle, “I’m not little.” She says loudly, “and you know what I mean.” I am overtaken with a strange puzzlement with the girl, “what’s your name little bird?” She scowls, “Not. Little.” She repeats, “I’m almost 20 and I’m not dumb enough to give my name to a witch.” I shrug, “it seemed like you were.” “Ugh,” she leans over the railing, “I wish all I had to do was sit under a bridge and tease strangers. And my mom says I’m the ungrateful one.” “Tease and then eat them,” I say in a exasperated tone, “you’re leaving out the most important part. The fun one.”
She hums lowly, “what do people taste like?” I smack my lips together, “like juicy juicy pig meat, but more tender.” She laughs with a rich tin sound, “liar.” I frown at her, “don’t you have places to be? You are a royal.” She scrunches her face up and pushes her loose blonde hair back, “Why do you think I’m here? I’m trying not to have things to do.” I look her up and down, “I don’t remember being invited to the birth of such a brat. Is that Hessia family spurning me again?” She sighs loudly, “Nah.” The girl reaches into her pocket and shines another ring in my direction, “I’m not from here.” “Ah,” I mull that over for a second, “it’s good thing they already extended their immunity to you. Just remember to invite me to the wedding or I’ll-” “Or you’ll unleash the gale force winds and raise the water and curse our children. I’ve heard.”
My eyebrows buckle inward into a grimace, “do they not have manners where you’re from,” I ask mildly, “or are you simply in the mood to push your luck?” I wander further out of my tunnel, feeling the pale sun bathe my earthy hair, covered in twigs and dirt and the wiggling life of one bird pecking for earthworms.
I can feel the girl stiffen as she examines me, taking in the puffy green skin and wrecked knuckles, parched mouth, the hunch of my back and long mud-caked gown. I smile so wide I think I might crack my face in half.
She places her chin on her arms again, “I’m not here to have manners.” She says in a small voice, “you don’t have any, as I can tell. Why should I?” She sighs, “what’s this bargain with the devil again?” I shake my head, “too high a price.” I’m not sure if I say that part aloud or not. I turn my chin upward, eyes glowing ember yellow and long nose catching the light. I am now fully exposed in the swampy waters, “Are you sure you still want to look like me then lovely bird?” She raises her eyebrows, “Oh yes,” she says simply, “who wouldn’t?” She turns around, “Prince Jace will probably send out the dogs if I am gone any longer, but,” she pushes her hair aside and looks over her shoulder, “I’m Tuck.” “Tuck,” I roll the name around my tongue and try to consume the vowels and suck the life out of the rolling sound. I frown.
“Not my real name, obviously,” she says with a smirk, “but everyone calls me that. Or used to.” She shrugs again.
I’m still gnashing on something I can’t quit chew, “fascinating. Of course,” I give her a flat look, “Tuck.” She waves, “they told me there was a powerful Bog Hag in these parts,” she examines me, “it was nice to meet you.”
Now she has manners.
The strange girl turns around and starts walking. I grin after her and imagine sinking my teeth around her pale throat, letting the red droplets spill out and color my muddy brown waters. I blink a couple times and then grumble about the royals. They could always do more to me, apparently including being nuisances.
Tuck’s unsteady footsteps disappear without a trace and I close my eyes to sink into the warm earth again.
I was around 400 at the time, young for the steady trees and arching rivers, old for what I used to be.
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“On a scale of one to ten, how clever do you actually find fairies?” Tuck was sitting on the edge of the water, skirt tucked under her and feet narrowly close to the lapping pond in front of her.
I want to sigh in exasperation, “go home little birdie,” I wave my hand in the air, “your presence isn’t requested here.” She hums loudly and glances up, “that isn’t even a proper answer. Are centaurs truly as health-obsessed as they say? My uncle met one and he said all the poor fellow could talk about is his kneecaps and the next plague. A right hypochondriac.” My left eyebrow twitches, “why don’t you go ask one?” Tuck leans her head up and looks up toward the dappled sunlight, “does it looks like I know many mythics?” She says loudly, “I’m asking you.”
I glower over at her, “you must have books.” I sneer, “rooms full of them I hear, houses full.” Tuck crosses her arms over her chest and frowns slightly, “and what would the court say? That’s what Matilda would remind me. The future queen burying herself in otherworldly material.” Tuck sighs noisily, “I would never get away with it.” “But you get away with conversing with a bog hag?” I remind her pointedly, mostly so I could return to my hunting. “How progressive.” She cracks an almost-smile, “oh yes, they call it a glorious new diplomatic mission.” She lifts her chin up, “for only the foreign queen of course. Taking up friendship with the local terrors.”
I hum loudly, “I take it they think you’re out riding.” She doesn’t look back at me, “they think I’m out weeping.” She takes a deep breath in and glances over at me, “a Kiliok tradition before a wedding.”
“Kiliok,” I roll that word around in my mouth, “A northern Queen, very well.” She doesn’t so much as nod as keep staring, “do you know of us?” I shrug, destabilizing clumps of dirt that roll down my shoulder tops, “I know of many things.” That same smile ghosts over her lips again, “cool.” I shake my head and my eyes pour of the warm waters, “you know, perhaps you are safe from me eating you, but there are other scarier things in this forest.” I hit her with a hard look, “it’s old. And the earth here is not as kind as me.” She looks nonplussed, “scarier than you?” She grins boldly, “I highly doubt it.” I huff shortly, “perhaps you should act like it.” I say hotly, “and leave. That’s what you do when you’re scared if you’d like to know.” “So touchy!” Tuck says boisterously, “it almost sounds like you like to be alone.” She winks and I feel for the nearest large fish.
“How did you guess?” I say in a flat tone and she laughs.
“Go on,” she says cheerily, “catch something.” My lips curl back again, “you’re already here.” “Oh come now, we already had this out.” She curls her legs up into her chest, reminding me of a child or a cat. “I want to be you and you want to eat me, neither of us can have what we want.” I give her one last placid look before plunging my hand into the water, my long nails pierce the fish before it can even twitch. It was larger, the largest one I had in months, I smile greedily.
I wrench the catfish from the waters and holding it’s flopping body in my hands, “watch carefully young queen,” my eyes gleam, “you may learn something.” I dig my teeth into it’s moist flesh and wait for it to stop squirming, tearing at it’s soft meat.
“Cool,” is the last soft word I hear before I dig in, I would be rolling my eyes all over again if I wasn’t preoccupied.
Tuck is still there when I finish, and asks me how I find Roc’s- were they slightly above dog intelligence or was it true you could hold a conversation with one? I try to fade back into the muddy waters and we bicker about which weather God’s were the most superior.
-------------------------
“I don’t suppose you ever leave this place.” I come to expect her weekly visit, I don’t turn around this time when she approaches.
“Not like you do princess,” I say soberly as I ooze my way back towards the mid-day sun, she always comes at mid-day.
“Ha, right.” She says with a slight grunt as she takes her usual seat by my waters. “You could go wherever you please though.” I raise my eyebrows, a stick falls down and bumps my cheek before making a silent ploop into the water. I trace patterns in the algae in front of me, “And where would I go?” Tuck makes a soft sound, “I dunno, another swamp? Triste? The coasts? You must have hobbies.” I fix her with an even look, “Between you and the fisherman I’m afraid I have no time for hobbies.” I say lightly and she lets out her little snorting laugh.
“I’m serious.” I shake my head, “I’m as bound to this swamp as you are bound to the land instead of sky.” I say slowly, “it’s how it is.” She just nods a little sardonically, “finally, straight answers.” I sigh loudly, “have you come to quiz me again about dwarven bathing habits?” She just smiles with a little shrug, “that and, unfortunately, it seems Jace will have me do all the work for him.” “The Hessia’s usually do,” I peer down at my long nails, “what is it?” Her large green eyes hold me for a second, “Are you free next friday?” I have the decency to grin widely, “let me check my calendar.”
Tuck returns the wicked smile, “I was told it was best to invite the local powerful mythics,” she winks, “wouldn’t want to snub anyone.” “After all the other visits?” I grumble, “I wouldn’t mind being snubbed at this point.” “Come now,” she says lightly, “Scare a few nobles, get a free meal, remind the world that’s it’s mortal and weak and easily eaten by strange green ladies. You must like being invited to these things for a reason.”
“It’s a matter of honor,” I say with pointed enunciation, “respect.”
She examines you again, “I see.” “No you don’t.” I snap back and she laughs once more.
“Always so prickly!” She tuts, “you’re lucky I like you or I wouldn’t invite you to my wedding.” “You just like oddities,” I say in a nasally voice, “bored nobles like yourself so easily lose their common sense,” I eye her, “but I’ll come.” I smile widely, “I do like to see the children’s faces when I arrive.” “That’s the spirit,” she beams. “Now,” she settles down, “do you think the God’s of night are better lovers than those of the sun? I’ve heard rumors going both ways.” “Of course the moon ones are better,” I say as I settle down deep into the silt of the pond bed, my head exposed, “the sun God’s are more self-centered than a Nymph discovering her complexion…” I wished so desperately for Tuck to leave, but I never was good at giving into myself either.
-----------------------
The day came, a sunny Friday in spring when all the flowers were in bloom, there were very few flowers by my bridge but I felt them. On the air, rejoicing in the soil, pecked by the distant din of birds that feared the dark woods.
I dragged myself up and ate, spending two days gorging and fuelling myself for the journey, casting protective circles around my limbs and throat. I even cake more mud into my hair and fashion branches into crooked wings off my hunched shoulders.
A bog hag had to play her part after all, show them what eternity looks like.
The actual exit is long and unnerving, the familiar suck of my life force, the shuddering of every nerve in my body. I heft myself slowly out of the water, groaning slightly like an oak tree against a typhoon.
The last push is always the hardest.
Solid ground is a cold kick to the teeth and I am very glad no one wanders the edges of my bog for any particular reason. I take several deep wincing breaths and straighten myself out.
“Alright,” I say calmly, “yes.” I summon my strength back to me with several dark heaving breaths and the color returns to my cheeks, it would be easy after that. I do not walk the streets, that would in many ways ruin the effect.
I arrive at the palace gates as a shadow and summon the northern winds to blow open the doors. The first set of people jerk toward me at the banging of the wood and whoosh of the breeze.
I spread my arms out wide and raise myself up high, “good morning.”
I take in the children’s face first, oh yes, their little bewildered stares, that is the cream to the cat’s tongue. Their mouths agape and eyes as wide as moons, I can only grin at the hisses and hushed whispers of the adults as I am witnessed.
I stride forward and watch their breathes seize up and noses turn toward the ceiling. I walk.
The halls are blood red, sheathed in gold trim and marble steps, I don’t bother to soften my steps or hold my dirt clumps to me. I let them fall to the castle floors and the earthworms to wiggle in my wake.
I make a beeline for the throne room, finding a tall graying man with steel grey eyes outside of it, waiting, I lift my chin up.
“Kind as ever to invite me King Gregory,” I says huskily as I reach near the throne room, I don’t have to look up to feel the king noticing me.
I feel every muscle in his body tighten, “it is an honor to host you Miss Lam.” Lam is the name of the bog I inhabit, they don’t know my real name, but that is how it’s supposed to be.
I turn my sharp chin up further, “a witch always remembers loyalties sire.” I remind him that witches both give and take, the diplomacy of the sword and bread as they call it.
They were offering me the bread so I won’t brandish my sword, I nod at their wisdom and exchange a tablet of blood with the king. I would never harm his bloodline as long as he honors me.
“If you’ll excuse me miss Lam.” He leaves as soon as the process is over, I turn back to the great hall. The crowds parts for me with enough room for a parade of horses between us. I grin, oh yes, this part I liked.
I show a nearby girl all five of my bare busted teeth, she makes a small simpering sound before hiding in her mother’s skirts. I cackle and turn back to the main room, the king is whispering to an advisor but makes no move to approach me again.
A smart man.
The Queen of the fairies arrives shortly after and is greeted in a similar fashion, Hessia is a large kingdom and I know quite a few powerful mythics could attend if they wanted to- but only a few will. I will admit that normally I might have foregone the trip, but I was still a little perplexed by the future queen.
I had been meeting her weekly after all.
I am unsurprised to read a different name on the parchment hung at the entrance of the church. The locals watch me carefully as I pass easily through the church doors with not so much as a twitch.
Like the devil works like that so easily little fools.
I shake my head and glance back at the welcoming sign. “To the Wedding of Prince Jace to his betrothed Princess Nadina.” I didn’t know what to make of ‘Nadina’ but perhaps we all come up with names for ourselves that are wildly different than ones we are given.
I sit on the closed off balcony and wait.
It reminds me of every other human wedding I’ve attended: stiff, formal, uncomfortable shoes and frivolous hats. There is a small boy who keeps unlacing his smock and throwing it off only to have mother tie it up all over again.
I almost want to give him a smile, a real one that wouldn’t haunt his dreams to come. But it was a fleeting thought.
The music begins and I almost regret attending, Queen Jinn of the fairies looks similarly bored but she holds her mouth in a taut line, dark skin glowing softly. Prince Jace arrives with his back straight and mouth an even straighter line.
He looks like every other young man this family had in line and I don’t bother to memorize his face, framed by licorice black locks and cool blue eyes. I don’t see any Tuck in him at all, but I’m not sure what I expected.
The music starts again with a silver jingle and I pause, stilling myself for the next familiar clumsy, uneven footsteps. She was wearing heels this time, white and pristine and high as the heavens.
Her gown trailed several people behind her and she had flowers braided into her shimmering blonde hair. Her dress was white and the jewels around her throat are blood red, it seemed to wear her more than she wore it.
“They caught her at the edges of the 13 Kingdoms,” Jinn was murmuring and they both glance at each other, “the Kingdom of Kiliok is not known for strength,” Jinn smiles with all of her teeth, “the Prince would bargain for beauty over the brawn of a nation it seems.” I frown slightly, of course, Jace’s family would choose someone from Kiliok. The country couldn’t leverage for her back or request much from them.
Tuck walks steadily down the aisle and I examine the pearls embroidered into the bodice of her dress and the curve of a fitted waist. She sets a steady pace up the steps and I forget to count the minutes.
She reaches the altar just as the minister begins his monologue outlying duty and country, heirs and gold.
“Are you going to curse them?” Jinn asks mildly as we watch on.
I shake my head, “they’ve paid their dues.” I say without blinking, “I have nothing to gain from it.” I look at her, “you?”
She shrugs, dark wings fluttering, “I considered a blessing even.” I glance at her, “oh?” Her eyes dart down, “Or a curse. I still haven’t decided, I’ll have to see my mood.” I give a rumbling chuckle and turn away, “do as you will.” “... and do you Nadina Josephine Tulip…” I wonder which name is actually hers as they wind down to the actual kiss. It doesn’t really matter of course, their lips meet in the end and the crowd erupts in applause.
A new Queen has just been welcomed into the family, however foreign she might be.
Tuck only pauses to give me a very curious look as she passes, arm and arm with Prince Jace, I give her a short nod and she smiles. I let it all pass and consider leaving then.
“Oh,” I look up as Jinn speaks.
I blink, “yes?” I prompt her and watch her crafted delicate features shift, her lips pull down and pale eyes expand. “Did you make up your mind?” I finally ask as she blinks.
Jinn flashes a look at me, she shrugs, “Humans make their own curses.” My mouth twitches, “ruins our business, doesn’t it?” She doesn’t laugh and I don’t like the feel of this. The wedding of Nadina of Kiliok and Jace of Hessia passes without note for that night.
I watch the first dance and eat my fill of chicken and all the little lambs in the kingdom, I only stop to tell one tale to the locals of blood eating giants and the ghosts of lost maidens in my bog. The maidens in white are banshees at the end of course, but the locals eyes always get so wide when I get to that part. It was worth it.
Tuck doesn’t spare me another glance.
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I return, exhausted, to my bog and wait for the next week. It comes, she does not. I wait for the next one, but not horse hooves or little clumsy feet approach my bridge.
I try to let go of the strange Tuck girl and her brief fascination with oddities.
She was just another bored noble afterall.
The sun sets and raises and the days pass on.
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I was older by then, still around 400, young for the ages, old for myself.
Her footsteps come on the night of the rains, heavy this time, mixed with rain fall  and a steady pace. The vibrations on the bridge are lumbering, the lightness of her step forgone for a thumping sturdy gait.
I raise my eyebrows, but it’s still her.
The water washes against the top of my bridge and I curiously stick my head out, feeling the pelting of the raindrops as someone stands directly above me. She hadn’t bothered to stay carefully in the neutral zone this time.
I observe a stout figure drooping slightly on the railing, like her limbs might fall apart at the seams at any moment, heavy, fit together with bolts and screws instead of feathers. I look up and feel the thunder crash in the distance.
I frown, “This isn’t really the time or place little bird.” I try to make her out, I notice the shape of her dress has changed, no, her body has changed. I try to remember how many years it had been, but out of the dark night I make out a distinct slope of her dress, outward, a belly extending down.
I draw myself up, “there is a storm. You should know-” “Help me.” My eyes finally drag up to her face and I see it, the swollen cheeks and hollow eyes, complexion pale as the blurry moon behind her. Some life was drained out of her.
I should turn her away, threaten her back into the castle.
I jut my chin to the nearest bog tree instead. “Curl up there,” I murmur, “close your eyes.” I cast the protection spell before I even know what I’m doing, I shouldn’t, I don’t want to. But the spot is soon dry and glossy as the water veers away from it and a young girl curls up underneath the branches.
The hours slip by as I watch Tuck fall into a troubled deep sleep in my wake.
I don’t let the rain touch her.
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When she awakes the next morning I am peering down at her mid-drift.
“You’re with child,” I say dryly as lick my lips, “the heir.” I point easily downward and try to put together my next question. Tuck eyes go flickery and panicked, “it wasn’t a dream.” She looks in both directions and clutches her loose shawl around herself.
“Sshhh,” I hover closer, “you’ve simply had a bad night little bird.” She glances over at me and her eyes are as wide as sunken valleys and craters on the moon. “You,” she says breathlessly, “Lam.” I nod slowly, “among other names.” I watch carefully as Tuck’s eyes filled with a wet moisture and start to overflow, she curls up on herself and cradles her swollen belly, “I thought I dreamt you too.” I shake my head, “Tuck,” I say calmly and she looks up immediately, responding to what must be an old name. “You carry the heir. Someone must be looking for you by now.” And I don’t fancy being swamped by an angry mob right now.
She shivers from head to toe and I observe her thin wrists and inflamed joints. Something was wrong.
She looks up at me with a wobbly chin, “it doesn’t matter,” she says in a hiccuping voice, “let them look.” I frown deeply, “what is it?” I ask sharply, dragging my eyes over her sickly pale skin. “What is all this?”
She looks down at her lap, eyes burning, “Lam, this child feels as if it might kill me.” She says it faintly, with a bow to her head. I wait for a moment, accessing the waters, the vibrations, the steel in her eyes. I take a deep unhappy breath, “it is never easy.” She shakes her head and the tears keep overflowing, “he keeps moving. He’s… it’s not going right, it’s all wrong.” I just nod and hum deeply, “I can see the sickness on you.” She lets out a little sob, “did you do this?” Her eyes crinkle, “I don’t think you cursed me, but…” I just shake my head, “I am not the person you think I am.”
She looks down at her lap again and blinks a couple times, “I know.” She says in a small voice, “I told Jace it was me and not you.”
She sighs deeply and I hover ever closer, I only pause when her puffy red eyes drag themselves up. “Please,” she says in a voice I never heard her use, “can you help me?” I just nod, I don’t want to. I know I shouldn’t. Don’t let them in.
“Reed root,” I say simply, “Mandrake placed in warm milk,” I continue, “honey mixed with temple rot, not the mold kind, the roots.” Her brow was rumpled upward, “the doctors have been working around the clock, do you think, do you know,” she grasps at something and searches my face.
I slowly raise my thin gnarled hands from the water, “And one last thing.” She blinks a couple times, “yes?” “My blessing,” I whisper and suck the light dry from the air around me, “don’t tell anyone.” The light hovers, brave and new, twinkling in the air around us like stars, I hadn’t given one out in ages, not since I was fresh, young. The light scatters in all directions, sucked into her skin and pores, I say the words under my breath, welding them to her.
“Light, protection, breath,” I murmur, “light, protection, breath.” I weld her life line together so thick and golden that I think she might live forever after this.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes I hadn’t realized I closed, “that child is not going to kill you your majesty.” Tuck was still weeping, she was older somehow, so much older. “Thank you,” she says breathlessly, “Gods, thank you.” I take her hand and repeat, “mandrake soaked in warm milk, honey mixed with temple rot, reed root.” We share a look that I can’t describe and I want to shatter that too, gnash it up between my teeth and forget.
Her shoulders are thick and heavy looking, sloping down, she lets them relax. “They wouldn’t let me see you after we started trying for him.” She holds her belly again, I just nod.
“It’s for the best.” I respond tartly. She just shakes her head, “I don’t suppose bog hags have to give their lives for Duty and Country?” I give a sad smile, “go back little bird.” I say and close my eyes, “the grass is not greener in pastures you know not of.” She raises her eyebrows, “I always read bog witches were full of riddles, you’ve been holding out on me.” I give a soft chuckle, the old Tuck I remember shines through this new mature woman.
I reach, I know I shouldn’t either, but it’s too late now. I take her soft milky hands and I squeeze them, hard, not hard enough to hurt. But she needed to know.
“This child will not kill you your majesty,” I whisper with a hiss, “you have my blessing. Use it.” She cradles her belly protectively, “will he have it too?” I glance down and frown slightly, “you shouldn’t tell anyone.” She looks down and coos softly, “you hear that little one?” She gives a smile that glows at the edges, “you will be imbued with bog witch.” I shake my head, “you always were more daring than a box of feral cats.” She looks up, sadly this time, “thank you.” She says, face still swollen and eyes sunken, “I won’t forget this.” I start to shoo her, “go,” I say quickly, something stirring within me, “before I change my mind.” She rolls her eyes but manages to lumber to her feet, “this won’t be the last of me Lam.” She says softly, “not this time.” My eyes crease and watch her back, “it’s Clemency,” I say after her, “Lam is the name of the bog.” She was gone already and I have nothing but a sudden pain left in my gut. I close my eyes and extend the blessing once more.
----------------------
Tuck returns twice, once to tell me that the mandrake screamed at her and to curse me for it, another time to laugh so hard she almost fell into the waters with me. Jace almost passed out when he saw her eating temple rot apparently.
She got better.
I heard from afar that the next prince was born, just as the old king Gregory died. Tuck really was a queen now.
It was a closed birth, a hard pregnancy and a hard birth. No one was invited to it.
I feel her footsteps far and distant from me, sometimes they come to the edge of the bog once more, but they don’t enter this time. I wait, I don’t dwell, I sleep as two winters pass.
I left once, into the city streets, disguised as a beggar woman, I hear that the new prince is strong, rambunctious, he has his father’s charcoal black hair and mother’s smile. I try not to catch his name, I do anyway.
Clement.
I don’t dwell on it.
-------------------
I am steeped in the roots of a tree when I hear it again, something I thought I wouldn’t hear again.
“I can’t,” she speaks rapidly, quickly, “I tried to. But I can’t, not again.” I turn around slowly, easily, I straighten up and ooze down the roots and back toward my bridge, I raise my eyebrows, “And here I thought you were a smart girl and were done with me.” Tuck just shakes her head, dressed in an olive green gown and looking bright and full of life this time. “Never.” She says softly and I don’t know what to do with that.
“Huh,” I turn away again.
She takes a deep breath, “I tried to take him to meet you.” She says steadily, “again and again. But they watch him more carefully than a hawk on a field mouse.” I glance up and sink into the muddy waters, “as they should.” She frowns deeply, “they don’t trust me.” I nod again, “A foreign queen stays foreign for a land like Hessia,” I say grimly, “I know well of these people’s superstitions.” She gives a tight smile down at the ground, “I started reading all those books you told me about.” She says in a small voice, “they keep me sane.” “Did you ever figure out if fairies are actually clever or not?” Tuck looks up, “I did,” she says slowly, “they are. But not as clever as they think.” I give out a hearty laugh, a real one, “smart girl.” Tuck tightens her hands, “No,” she looks away, “I was foolish.” I shrug, “You were young.” I tilt my head, “Different, strange, and not sorry about it.” She grins, “still am.” She sighs, “but I made so many mistakes.” She rubs her knuckles together, “I never earned their trust.” I tilt my head to the side, “why are you telling me this?” My jaw tightens.
“I don’t know,” she sighs heavily, “I wanted one last confession, or maybe perhaps I thought it might change something. To go where it all began.” “What began?” She shrugs, “it doesn’t matter.” She says bitterly, “they want me to do it again.” I raise my eyebrows, “do what?” My lips quirk up, “wander into bogs again and bother ancient powerful beings?” She laughs, “I wish!” She takes a deep heaving breath, “they need more than just Clement. Hessia demands multiple heirs just in case the first one dies.” “Oh,” I should nod at that, I should affirm the truth I already knew, “don’t they know?” Don’t they know the first one was a hair away from killing Tuck.
She just frowns at her feet, “they don’t listen.” I nod again, “I can…” I take a deep breath, “I can do it again.” I should add ‘for a price,’ but I don’t.
She just shakes her head, “I don’t I have it in me. Not a second time.” She looks weary, eyes tired and hands still and open at her sides, “even with a powerful witches blessing.” I put my hand out, “you don’t know what I’m capable of.” I give an almost-smile, “you never did.” She hesitates, looking at my hand for a long second, my fingers tingle and I should pull back, but I don’t.
She takes it. Our skin touches and tingles like a wildfire, it wasn’t like the first time, like when I was trying to convey everything to her.
She holds the dust and the grime and my long gnarled fingertips, she brings them up to her lips. “Tell me,” she whispers, “how does a river nymph descend into a bog?”
I don’t meet her eye but I tighten my grip firmly, “with a bit of luck.” I say loosely and she chuckles.
“Of course.” She searches my face with her prickly green eyes, “what kind of luck?” I tilt my head to the side, “it goes like all stories go. Life gives and takes. Power and hunger mixed with men who want with a want that carves out your flesh and digs out spirit and soul. Then I was given a blessing.” I curl back my lips. “You already knew that secret though.” She nods and fingers reach up and ghost across my cracked skin, “I wanted it so badly.” Her eyes shimmer and meet mine, holding my gaze and passing something unnamable between us, I lean forward but don’t press anywhere closer.
We hold our breaths and wait for something that isn’t coming, wrapped in something we don’t understand.
I clutch her hand so tightly I know it hurts.
Tuck turns before I do and we say a soundless goodbye. I throw my blessing at her one last time.
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Men, men are cruel. They fight and ruin each other, arguing and crying out and falling in love only to do it all over again. Men are cruel. So are the waves and the snow and biting wind and unforgiving earth, the earth is also cruel.
Though men can be bargained with, the earth on the other hand will eat you all without question. Perhaps that’s what I liked about it.
Her footsteps came heavy this time, fast and pounding the water bottom, feet sucking into the mud and struggling with each step. She was breathing hard and dashing forward with lurching hurried movement.
I wake with a start, dogs bray in the distance. She hadn’t been subtle, or perhaps the King had more eyes on her side then she knew of. Either way I can feel the pounding of men’s feet and the calling of distant voices.
I surge to my feet and move as fast as a roaring river.
“Tuck!” I call with the voice of a rumbling, mountain, “Tuck!”
I can feel someone else, cradled in her arms and squirming. “Mama,” I hear it now, clear as day. He is young and strong, as I knew he would be.
His eyes glow yellow in the dark as I whoosh forward, approaching quickly just as the soldiers do- also in pursuit of the mother and child.
I gnash my teeth as I turn on the soldiers, “I will grind your bones to dust and use your shin bones as my garden gate.” I roar and the men falter, but only for a moment.
“A witch!”
“I knew it! I knew the gregij Queen had allies on the Other Side.” My nostrils flare and I lift my hand, but so do the men, one young soldier raises a crossbow.
“Don’t hit the child!” The captain cries, the young soldier is jostled and it all happens in slow motion.
“Clemency!” Tuck’s voice rings out just as I reach for her, just as the arrow does too.
Her son’s eyes are huge and glowing yellow, shaking and frightened as the arrow pierces his mother’s back like a sapling pierces the soft earth as it grows. I see a silent gasp spread across her face and a shock of pain.
Red blossoms across the dark waters.
I give out an earthly scream as she falls, every inch of me tingling as I know these soldiers are dead. And eaten and discarded into the scraps of time and earth.
I scream and scream, but I’m not the only one listening, before the bog cats come bristling out of the waters, before the roaches come crawling out of the trees, before I summon hell. The earth is listening, the earth does not bargain, but it gives and it takes.
Much like a witch.
I feel it encompassing her before I see it, the vines and leaves and waters swishing around her, covering her, my eyes go wide. I needed to rip out the throats of these men, but I pick up her son instead.
He is weeping and wiping at his brilliant eyes, tearing at his dark hair, whimpering softly in an emotion I couldn’t fathom from one so young.
“Shhh,” I gather him to me, “it’s beginning.” The leaves twist and the waters ripples and the forest becomes so deathly quiet I’m afraid it might break. They call it the devil, but I don’t think I’ve seen the devil breath life back into someone as quickly as he takes it.
I see her skin fasten into a steady bark, her hair twist into streams of golden light, her face mix into something otherwordly and unknowable, rough and hard in all directions. Tuck raises once more and I am left breathless. She stands, bark and light and forest now, all forest.
She raises her head and smiles, smiles something brilliant and wicked, “I knew it,” she says softly and looks down at her hands. The soldiers had scattered by then, run for their lives to tell the King of the betrayal, terror would follow after horror. But that could wait, it all could wait, I shift young prince Clement in my arms and reach out on last time.
She takes my hand, “tell me,” she says lightly, “can a bog witch fall in love? I read they can’t.” I smile widely, “let’s find out.” We turn towards the deepest parts of the forest and start walking, creeping deep into unknown depths of a soft and distant world. The first kiss shifts everything inside me, and then the second one breaks it.
Very few new footsteps arrive after that, for who would face the two most powerful bog witches in their home? Two witches and the next and future King.
FIN
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jayraephoenix · 8 years ago
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Hunting
((I created this story for @xcelestialquiet a while ago, one of my longest friends. She’s been with me through thick and thin, and I can’t imagine what life would be like without her. Thank you for supporting me honey, and no matter what happens I’ll always be your best friend.))
~~~~~
    The weather had been pleasant for the past few days, and with fresh dew on the grass a certain RED Sniper looked up. A few clouds lazily drifted across the sky, yet as they were a fluffy white it wouldn’t be likely that it’d rain. There was only a slight breeze, which didn’t even threaten to blow off his hat; it was perfect hunting conditions.
    He started his exploration after a mug of coffee, quiver of arrows strapped to his back and bow in hand. Striding into the forest near the base sent shivers up his spine, and it was in these moments that he felt alive. He thanked the temporary cease-fire (Something about the BLU Respawn breaking) as this allowed him to hunt without looking behind his shoulder at every twig breaking, every bird noise and every whistle of the wind.
    While he may have begun his day with a jaunty bounce in his step, soon enough things began to go downhill. His first shot at a wild boar only grazed the animal, which caused him to spend the next half an hour running away from a half-crazed wild pig. The next fifteen minutes was taken up by hiding in a tree, then a further five actually climbing down again. Today was turning out to be a waste.
    He was thinking of heading back, until he finally struck gold. He saw a beautiful deer in a clearing, nibbling delicately at a patch of grass. She seemed to be alone, and lining up his shot he released the arrow with confidence. It hit her shoulder, causing the creature to panic and flee from the unknown predator. A chase soon began… And yet what he ended up seeing wasn’t what he was expecting.
    Tracking the injured animal was simple enough, and pushing away shrubbery he froze at the scene laid out in front of him. A young woman was tending to the deer, a bloodied arrow at her side and bandages already on the elegant creature. She was quick with her hands, and he was stunned that she was helping the trembling deer.
“What the hell?” He took a step forward to stop her, except… What happened next fascinated him. The Sheila looked up, and set into motion a series of events. Standing, curling hair around her face shifting in the wind, she turned and ran into the overgrowth. Her clothing was little, allowing a lot of skin to be seen, but the fear in her eyes made the Aussie want to know more. Forgetting his previous target and chasing after this new prey, he was in for a surprise.
    He wasn’t exactly a graceful man. His tall frame and lanky limbs made running awkward, and not surprisingly he wasn’t very fast. Yet it wasn’t this that hindered him. No, it was the rope trap which tightened around his ankle that stopped him. Being yanked up, he found himself upside down soon enough.
    Swearing and cursing angrily, he tried to get out. Regretting his decision to leave his Kukri behind, he didn’t even notice that the female was back. She was simply watching him, no words leaving her to tell him that his tongue was foul. It took him a full thirty seconds before he realised he was being watched. “Let me down! I ain’t an animal!” He twisted in the rope, his posture causing his face to go red. It was only when he began to calm did his blood run cold. In front of him, clear as day, was a BLU.
    To be exact, it was the BLU Sniper. The original, he remembered, but stuck in Respawn thanks to a glitch, only to be spat out after hours. He seemed alright, until he tried to move. Poor bastard had been paralyzed from the waist down, so he had to go. Guess this was the man’s replacement.
    She was pretty, he couldn’t deny that. He wasn’t entirely sure why she decided to dress like a mistress-of-the-night, instead of wear the BLU Sniper’s uniform, but to each their own. He couldn’t judge her.
“Look, Sheila, can ya let me down? Cease-fire and all?” He tried to reason with her, but her lack of words was putting him on edge. She had a hunting knife strapped at her side, and when she reached for it he started to babble. Mainly about how he was only there hunting, and he didn’t mean to harm her.
    Slow, steady steps forward and a finger going to his lips shut him up. The steel blade went to his throat, slicing into him and cutting his carotid artery. At last she spoke as he bled out, practically choking on his own blood. Her voice reminded him of wind chimes, so soft that he had to strain to hear her. “So, the hunter is now the hunted. You should have ran faster RED.”
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libraford · 1 year ago
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The Pickle Ball drama is wild!
For those that don't know, pickleball is like if you played ping pong on a full size tennis court. It is generally considered an 'old people's game.'
Retired people wake up early in the morning and the first thing they do is go play pickle ball with their likewise early-rising friends. I'm talking like... 5:30am. And the first thing they do when they get there is complain that the bathrooms aren't open.
Of course they're not open. The park employees don't get to work until 7 and the facilities don't open until 9 at the latest because we only got two guys to unlock the whole city. Calm down. Go before you leave the house or get comfy with the bushes.
Well, someone gave the Head Complainer a key to the bathroom. Because we seem to reward this kind of behavior, I guess. So when I get to Madeline Park at like 8:30 the bathroom is already unlocked. But I still have to clean it.
Before I do that, though, I have to take care of the trash. Today, it is full to the brim with beer bottles. I'm pissed about this because it was clearly the pickleball folks who were drinking, which is illegal on the premises, but as previously mentioned- I'm not a cop.
But more than that I'm pissed that there's broken bottles in there, which is a hazard to me. I have to double bag the trash and be really careful or I'll have a sparkly glass shard bracelet.
I run my arm along the rim of the bag and it comes out...red? I didn't think I got cut. It is undeniably blood, but more notably it belongs to someone else.
Well, I'm washing that arm thoroughly. I scrub it off my arms in the women's room and use hand sanitizer, and then clean the bathroom while im there.
I go into the men's room to do that one next. There is blood on the sink, the floor, and the toilet. And y'know, I'm used to blood in restrooms, I'm just not used to blood in the MEN'S restroom. It's not like... a fatal amount of blood, but more blood than should be outside of a person.
Well, that's no good. I clean it up, but it's eating at me that I've already encountered human blood twice and it's not even 9 yet. So I go over to the Head Complainer and I ask him:
"Hey uhhh... there was a lot of blood in the men's room. Is everyone alright? Do I need to file an accident report?"
He gives me a good-natured laugh. "Oh, that's just Greg. He came over from Kauffman Park and I have to say- didn't like the rules he played by."
Oh my God what a vague and horrible answer. I cant tell if nes joking or not. "Is... is Greg okay?"
"Oh, ha hah ha! He's fine, he's just back at Kauffman Park where he belongs."
"Oh! Okay then. Ha...hahah..." Absolutely terrifying.
Day 7/50.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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"I'm tired of it being shoved down my throat!!"
So stop opening your mouth, I don't know what to tell you.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 50/50
My boss: sorry you didnt get a chance to do a lot of different things this summer like I promised. With all the guys retiring we really needed a reliable person on park cleanup.
Me, doing park cleanup every day for two months: hell yeah- a repetitive task that's necessary for the basic functionality of the facility where I can see the material result of my hard work and random people thank me for and in my time off i can see some BIRDS!
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 19/50
More Pickleball drama.
Whoever have the Head Complainer the keys to the bathroom must have also given him a key to the storage trunk, which is for parks use only, but I guess when you're 65, paid 750k for a house, and your only joy in life is to play oversized table tennis for 8 hours and complain about minor inconveniences, I guess they give you keys to the city.
Our horticulture crew was working around the bathrooms- removing poison ivy and the like, and planting something fondly called "Arties party mix" which is a completely random assortment of flower seeds that Artie throws together. (Its mostly Shasta daisies, cosmos, sunflowers, and pinks).
Head Complainer walks through the mulch that was just laid down and gives them a sort of indignant look. "Do not plant anything along this path. It's how I get to the trunk."
Artie is pulling up a plant that's been stomped on and puts 2 and 2 together.
"Theres a sidewalk three feet that way that we'd prefer you stay on."
"I dont want to use the sidewalk. I want a sidewalk put HERE so I dont have to go around."
"Ah. I see. Well, thanks for letting us know that you're the one that's been walking on the mulch."
Head Complainer grumbles something in Olde English Typeface and heads back to the tennis court that is now used exclusively for pickleball.
"Hey Sarge," Artie says to the head horticulturalist. "I think we should plant a tree right here."
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 28/50
Close to the end of my shift, I accidentally scraped the side of the water truck on a decorative pillar at the back entrance to one of the parks. Damage was some crumbling mortar and a big scrape across the bed of the truck.
And I thought...
Dont tell anyone.
Because when I was at the flower shop, if you were in any minor accident it would cost the company in insurance. And while they couldn't dock your pay legally they WOULD make the workplace a hellhole until you rage quit.
But I thought about that for a few minutes.
They might not notice the pillar, but they will notice the foot long scratch on the truck bed. And people would KNOW it was me because I was tge last person running that truck. And they'd match the limestone to the park I was at because it was a very distinctive limestone.
And they'd find out anyway.
One girl crashed a water truck once and she got fired, but ONLY after they drug tested her and she tested positive.
So I figured I'd risk it because there was no way I could keep up the charade for long. Went to my boss's office and told him. Worst that can happen is they fire me and I've already made it past the halfway point.
I showed him the truck.
"Hmmm... it's just a scratch, its fine."
I told him about the pillar.
"That's a tight turn, I'm surprised it took this long. Is it still standing?"
"Yes."
"Was anyone else involved? Like was anyone else hurt?"
"No, no one else was involved."
"Did you get hurt?"
"No."
"Then it's okay. I'd prefer it not happen, but its minor. And I'm glad you said something. I hate detective work."
The difference between a workplace that has profit over people, versus a government labor position where there are no profits to lose.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Today I learned that the progress flag hung up in the office was done so as a joke to piss off the most homophobic workers at the shop and not, in fact, meant to show that this was a safe workplace for queer people, which was a wholly depressing fact.
Day 10/50.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 24/50
I was out watering the city trees in a HOA and I saw a woman crouched over her perfectly green grass, picking up individual pieces of dead grass with her nails and holding them in her other hand like some kind of lawn raccoon.
The temptation to carry clover seeds in my pockets and just disperse them into the monoculture is so strong.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 44/50
They forgot to put me on the work order for park cleanup, so today my big adventure is landscaping.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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My boss was talking somewhat derogatorily about how a lot of the transgender community is autistic (and some bullshit statistic) and I'm like...
...you know, I've never really seen him make eye contact with anyone and he only ever talks about trees and things related to trees.
Like it's very telling how many of the people I work with display characteristics of autism while also saying some... unkind things about them and when I say we need sensitivity training for autism I legit mean we need a session centered around self-diagnosis.
Day 40/50
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 12/50
Milestone! Lee found their first condom in the park!
They at least had the good grace to tie it.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 27/50
I was watering trees in a HOA when a man comes out of his... incredibly large house and says:
"Haha and I talk about playing with MY hose!"
And I look up at him for a moment, turn off the water, and ask him:
"Is that a normal thing to say to a government employee?"
And he went back into his comically large house never to be seen again.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 40/50
Ok this us a cute one.
We had a birthday party happening at every park shelter today and one of them was a 1st birthday party. We usually swing by every party in our territory to make sure theres no complaints, and some shelters are only accessible via bike path.
Rule is: if you're on the bike path, you turn your blinky lights on for better visibility, you have to go under 5 mph.
So we're slowly rolling through the park with our lights on and all the kids are on the playground. One kid stops what shes doing and yells
'Look! Look! A truck!"
Everyone stop and looks at the truck.
Moms pick up their kids and have them wave at the truck.
My partner, Archer, waves from her window and says 'hiiiiiii.'
All of the kids say:
"Hi, truck!"
Anyway, that was magical.
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libraford · 1 year ago
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Day 32/50
I'm cleaning a shelter that's hosting a day camp, but the camp is wrapping up. I notice something wonderful out of the corner of my eye and am overcome with the urge to share it.
I catch the attention of the nearest camp counselor and say:
"Come enter Bear Mode with me."
Curiously, she follows me to a little patch of brambles near the shelter. I point to some dark berries growing there.
Me: "free food."
Counselor: "These are black raspberries! I didnt even notice them."
Me: "and now you have!"
Counselor: "you never see anyone selling these- I haven't had them since I was a kid! Thank you!"
She had the biggest smile on her face. My work here was done.
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