#maybe even work on the garden and the yard's facilities a bit. i have a few projects that need time and attention so those'd fot in

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

I don't have a lot of energy these days [because of The Horrors] so I'm looking at my day and my priorities and trying to plan how I'm going to spend what energy I have, because I do need to be able to rest and relax but there are also things that need doing and that is a careful balance for me.

I managed to [mostly] clean the kitchen last night so I've kicked it out of the priority list until next weekend. Unfortunately the living room, bathroom, bedroom, and my office all need cleaning too. I think of the priorities, my office and the bedroom are the most important to me, so I'll probably push the living room and bathroom until at least Friday.

There's also the laundry. I don't have any clean clothes and as we're moving into winter I need to be more rigid about getting that done because days where the clothes can be dried on the line will be more limited. So I definitely need to wash an outfit or two and hang them up in the next hour.

That's already a really busy day, so I'll probably cut it there. But it's definitely going to still leave me a lot of work this week. Half my cleaning, at least one more round of laundry, settling dog food for the next couple of weeks, planting the fall/winter greens, doing some set up work on my computer, work on some writing projects, cleaning out the fridge, and patching some worn clothes. My work week isn't insane atm, but it is definitely limiting. Right now I have 6+4+0+4+2+5+5= 25 non work/non-survival needs (sleep, food, shower, etc) hours available each week. I need to figure out a regukar distribution of these that means everything is getting done and I still have an hour a day to myself as often as possible. I think it's probably not realistic to give myself more than an hour a day for free time/fun, which is a bit unfortunate because I've found in the past that my floor tends to be getting 2-3hrs of free time most days because of how I deal with transition and decision-making.

25-7 [1hr per day] is 18 hrs, so I just need to decide where and how to distribute those in order to keep pace with things.

Lets say the garden needs 3hrs per week, the laundry needs 4 hours (specifically 2 sets of 2 morning/early afternoon hours), the cleaning needs an hour a day to get through a maintenance clean of the house, and 3 hours once a week to work down any deep cleaning that's built up. Which is....already three more hours than I actually have each week. So I guess I'll make a plan to work in the garden for 20-40min of 4 of my free hours each week.

It really doesn't leave me any wiggle room. Only about 4 hours a week that isn't explicitly allotted to something that needs doing, which means there will probably me a lot of weeks where I only get an hour or so at best across the whole thing for free time. I guess I've had a hard time accepting that at this point, having actual time for myself or a time-intensive project is only available if I've taken a day off work. I love my job, but it's ... not comfortable to realize that it's the only love in my life I actually have time for anymore.

I think that's probably why I end up here so much. It's this mindless little way of zoning out into my own head, dissociating away from the exhaustion, for a few minutes at a time. I keep thinking I want to use this space differently, make it more if the things I enjoy. But I think what I really want is just to actually have the time and energy to do things I love that take work. I keep crying a few times every day and I couldn't figure out why, but like

I dunno

Why **wouldn't** I cry a little every day? It's the closest I'm getting to actual emotional release or relaxation in my life. We'd probably all cry. Heck. A lot of us probably DO, capitalism being what it is.

I guess I'm starting to wonder why I'm doing what I'm doing. What is there left for me to sacrifice to this life? What is actually serving me about not just letting myself go up like a fireball and take my surroundings with me? What in the ever loving fuck am I fighting this hard for?

All I ever want, all I want now, is to be able to live. To really, actually live. How does wanting to live bring you this close to killing yourself, whether on accident or on purpose? What am I actually doing that is LIVING and what am I doing that is FACILITATION of living? It can't all be facilitation, or I'm not actually facilitating fuck all.

I'm 30 goddamn years old and I need to figure out what it looks like to actually love my life. I fundamentally refuse to zombify myself like this for everyone else around me forever.

[mysticalnightenthusiast]

S.N.A.F.U CH-57 ‘All Quiet on the Western Front’

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 A/N1:  Short one today peoples!

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The next few days were relatively quiet for Eadaoin.  She left for work just after sunrise every morning and returned usually right on sunset.  With their parents off visiting family in Ireland she and Cahir were left up to their own devices.  Her newly repaired car was finally back to it’s pre-vandalism state and because he had more free time than his sister Cahir picked it up for her and met her at her work the Thursday after the Mexico City Grand Prix.

“What are you doing here?” Eadaoin asked in surprise as the elder of the two siblings knocked on the door frame of her office.

“Just came to see my baby sister,” Cahir replied with a grin “am I not allowed to do that?”

Eadaoin rolled her eyes.

“No, she said dryly getting to her feet and putting an inch thick folder back in the filing cabinet behind her “you got the truck alright?”

“Yup, it’s parked downstairs and it’s running like a dream,” Cahir replied cheerfully “I’ve got a bit of news by the way.”

“Oh?”

“I got the job at the clinic in Putney,” Cahir replied excitedly “I start Monday morning.”

“That’s great!” Eadaoin replied embracing her brother “What about the clinic in Walliswood?”

“Haven’t heard back from them yet,” Cahir replied returning her embrace “they said they’ve got four more candidates to interview this week and will give me a yes or no by Monday.”

“How did the interview go?”

“Great, the facilities are top notch and equal to anything you’d find in Newmarket and all the staff are friendly and know what they’re talking about.  They mainly do racehorses and eventers but treat any equine that comes in the door, they seemed particularly interested in the fact I treated the Monarto Zoo zebra herd last year.”

“How’s the house hunting going?”

“Not bad not doing a full on search til I hear about the job in Walliswood. I need a place with a yard for the dogs and your place is the best place for them now but if I get the job there I’ll need to move closer, Twickenham is over an hour’s drive away and I’m not doing that twice a day.  I’d be better off finding a place nearer to the clinic to reduce travel time.”

“Well you can stay at my place as long as you need to,” Eadaoin replied as she shut down her computer.

“Thanks for that, so d'you fancy going out to celebrate?  Dinner at Whelan’s on me?”

“If it’s on your dime sure,” Eadaoin replied cheerfully “you heard from Mum and Dad?”

“Yeah they arrived at Aoibheann and Tadgh’s place this morning, Mum texted me,” Cahir replied “they seem to be having fun.  They’ll go stay with them again when they come back for Christmas and New Year.”

“D'you think Mum and Dad miss Ireland?” Eadaoin asked as she shucked on her coat.

“What in terms of going back there to live?”

“Yeah.”

“Nah, their life is in Australia and has been since we were little,” Cahir replied “their work and all their friends and social circle are there mine is too really but I have a bit more of the travel bug than they do.  I think maybe once they retire they might spend half the year here, half back home but I’m 99.9% sure they’d never come back here permanently even if we stayed here and settled down.”

“Yeah I think that too,” Eadaoin replied “well I’m done for the day let’s go celebrate your new job!”

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A few hours later Eadaoin and Cahir returned home and upon parking in her driveway Eadaoin immediately noticed something was off.

“What?” Cahir asked upon seeing is sister tense up.

“Look at the garden,” Eadaoin instructed him “what d'you notice about it?”

“Er....”

Eadaoin rolled her eyes.

“I swear unless it’s related to your job you wouldn’t notice your arse fall off,” she said dryly “look.”

Cahir made a point of looking at the small patch of greenery and a look of realization spread across his face.

“Your roses are looking a tad crook.” He said eventually.

“A tad?  Cally they’re dead. Everything’s dead,” Eadaoin replied cutting the engine “even the lawn, the daffodils and tulips are definitely dead.  And look at the ivy that grows all over the front of the house.”

“When was the last time you watered it?”

“Middle of last week, just after we got home from the U.S,” Eadaoin replied grabbing her handbag and getting out of the car “oh no way!”

“No way what?” Cahir asked in ever growing confusion as he got out of the car and followed his sister over to where a patch of pink tulips used to grow.

“Remember the night that huge pile of horse shit appeared and Mum noticed the ground was wet and soggy?”

“Yeah.”

“I reckon that was weed killer,” Eadaoin seethed “that fucking bitch!”

“What you reckon Jem poured weed killer over your plants as well as dumping a trailer full of shit on your lawn?”

“I think that’s exactly what she did!” Eadaoin snarled her face darkening with anger “c’mon don’t you think that’s exactly what she would do?”

“Well I don’t know her but from what you and Danny have said about her character I wouldn’t be surprised,” Cahir replied “she certainly is a petty one isn’t she?”

“I went to school with teenage girls less bitchy and petty than Jemma!” Eadaoin exclaimed “for fuck’s sake I can’t prove it was her either! FUCK!”

“When is your security camera set up being installed?”

“Technician’s coming around Saturday afternoon to set it up,” Eadaoin replied I offered them twice their usual weekend rate to fit me in.  What the fuck am I going to do about my garden?”

“Well depending on what sort of weed killer was used you might have to rip everything up and dig down to get rid of all the poison in the dirt,” Cahir suggested watching his sister stalk around the yard inspecting the ever more apparent damage done by the mystery poison “that’d be too big a job for one person, you’d have to get a landscape gardener in.”

Eadaoin let out a frustrated groan.

“Why can’t I just have a peaceful life?” she said in annoyance “I seriously don’t understand why anyone would do something like this!”

“Well of course you wouldn’t you’re not a self absorbed jealous vindictive bitch are you?” Cahir reasoned.

“Hmmmph”

“Ring the cop you’ve been reporting all this vandalism to and report this as well,” Cahir advised “it’ll help in the long run.”

“You know in the ten years since I graduated law school I have never felt my degree was more of a waste of time than I do now,” Eadaoin groused as she locked her car “I have some of the greatest legal minds at my disposal and have all this theoretical and practical legal knowledge and can do jack shit about knowing all this bollocks is because of Jem and not being able to prove it.”

“I can imagine it’s frustrating,” Cahir replied poking his key into the front door lock and turning it “hopefully you’ll be able to pick up something on your security camera set up once its installed.”

“Knowing my luck, Jem is watching the house, the tech’s turning up to install the system will have ‘so and so security camera company’ plastered across the side of their van and she’ll go away.” Eadaoin groused following her brother into the house.

“Well that’s the least you want isn’t it?” Cahir reasoned as he hung up his coat on the row of hooks by the front door.

“Yeah, I just want Danny and I to be us,” Eadaoin replied with a tired sigh “just free to live our lives you know?  I want to be able to go out on dates, kiss in public just be a normal couple without the worry of having someone in the background taking photos or videos or intruding on us being us.  I know with dating a high profile sports person it’s never going to be a hundred percent normal but I want to the sort of normal that is not being stalked by my boyfriend’s fruit loop ex.  We literally don’t have that worry when we go to Monaco.  No one gives a shit who’s who there.”

“You still can be a normal couple Eadie,” Cahir said “I know in dating a person of high profile is a bit different to dating a joe average from around the corner but just think apart from his job Danny is a normal joe average bloke from around the corner.  When he’s not working he’s just your average Aussie guy, you’ve got to remember that.  Let this Jem follow you around watching what you get up to, if you act like a normal boring couple she’ll get bored and eventually go away.  I mean how exciting would it be to see someone go to work, buy a trolley full of groceries and go out for a meal?  Sounds boring as fuck to me and I’m your brother.  I know you; don’t let this psycho bitch get to you.  Remember you love Danny and he loves you and together you can overcome anything.”

Eadaoin smiled and embraced her brother

“You’re a sensible sausage,” she informed him affectionately “it’s just times like these I miss the anonymity of Monaco, it’s quite peaceful there you know.”

“Would you consider moving there?” Cahir asked.

“No,” Eadaoin replied at once “as I said to Danny I’m not going to let a fruit loop run me out of my own home, besides I only know two people there, one of which Max travels just as much as Danny. I can’t work as a lawyer there because I’m not a Monegasque citizen and I have my commitment with the band at Whelan’s and literally all of my friends live here.”

“You could work remotely for your job and fly back for your gigs at Whelan’s” Cahir reasoned.

“I could but London is home,” Eadaoin replied “don’t get me wrong I love Monaco but I really only want to be there if Danny is, I’d rather be in butt fuck nowhere with him than here or there without him.”

“You two really need to get married and have loads of babies,” Cahir told his sister with a huge grin.

Eadaoin blushed.

“Yeah we do,” she said “one day but not yet.”

[agoodgoddamnshot]

(Synonyms For) Tired - Geraskier [E]

[gif isn’t mine]

Warnings: Angst, Drug Use, Drug Abuse

Word Count: 7,188

ORIGINALLY POSTED TO MY AO3

“Wouldn’t you just love to punch him in the face?”

The harsh glare of the sun is almost blinding as Geralt glances over, watching Lambert gather his reins and nudge his gelding forward. He snorts and tosses his head, but Lambert quickly corrects him. It takes a moment, but eventually, Niels gives up on his pestering, and arches his neck into his bit.

The man being drenched in Lambert’s vitriol stands in the centre of the arena, hands perched on his hips as he watches each of his horses trot around him. A trained sharp eye watches every step and footfall, the seat of the horses’ riders, and how much rein each of them are being allowed to take. Armoured in a pristine and tailored suit, and glasses perched on the low of his nose, Alfred Pankratz’s ever-watching and judging eyes are never too far away.

Lambert keeps the rest of his words tightly concealed behind clenched teeth, even as Alfred calls out to him. “Tighten up that rein, Blake,” his Redanian-accented voice booms through the indoor arena, even over the rhythmic thumping and snorting of horses.

Gods, he wants to talk back. Geralt barely manages to stop himself from smiling when Lambert huffs out a sharp breath.

Roach floats underneath him; never causing bother or hassle, striding easily around the circuit as if she were in a test. He never needs to tell her to do anything. A small shift in his hands or in his seat will have her collected or extended. She’s always been his favourite mount. If he could afford it, she’d be his. He was here from the moment she was born, and the only one who could ride her properly without being kicked at or thrown off.

Her retirement, maybe. Perhaps he could try and convince the ever-watching yard owner that she deserves time in the countryside, where she can spend the rest of her days rolling around in grasses and chasing sheep in the neighbouring fields.

For now, though, Alfred’s name is on the papers of every single horse here.

His voice cracks across the barn. “One more circuit,” he calls out, arms folding in front of his chest, “and then head out where you need to be.”

Geralt thanks every god he can remember the name of that Lambert’s gelding has the same training schedule as Roach. The pair of them will be taken out on to the sand arena in front of the main house; where the Pankratz wealth can loom over them as a constant reminder of how lucky they are to be employed here.

The pay is good. The pay is great. Every gold piece he earns from his work goes into a separate bank account, stashed away just for him, to buy his own land after he retires. His shoulder twinges as he turns Roach for her final trotting lap of the arena. A retirement may come sooner than later, with every year that passes. Old injuries that he thought had healed and slunk away reawaken, pulling at him in the morning and reminding him throughout the rest of the day that he’s getting older, that he had been pushed and pushed to his limit and beyond it.

Roach snorts underneath him, shaking her head. He settles a hand on to her neck, soothing.

Alfred’s eyes don’t leave them until they break for their own training areas. Some horses linger behind in the arena, prepared to work on their flatwork for the day. Others take a sharp turn out on to the gallops winding out and around the yard.

The sand arena sits behind the Pankratz’s house; a house few of them have even been near, let alone in. Not even Geralt has been inside of it, to the best of anyone else’s knowledge. He has, but he’s not going to go and parade that bit of information around. The house is as drenched in gold as the rest of the yard; a wood and stone mansion sitting on a slight hill, looking over the yard and lands around it as some looming reminder that it’s Pankratz gold that made this place, that keeps them in their own homes and living comfortably.

The back of the house, with tall walls and long lancet windows, with high vaulted roofs, hosts an ample garden and pool and rockery with Mrs Pankratz’s gardens. Alfred’s wife isn’t nearly as firm with them, offering them drinks on hotter days and more breaks between training sessions. Even her face is kinder, with soft eyes and a persistent smile curled along her painted lips as she regards each of her husband’s horses and their riders in the morning warm-up.

Geralt tries to imagine Alfred Pankratz smiling and it threatens to run a shiver through his spine. The only time the man’s steely facade will break is when Geralt brings him home another trophy.

Roach stretches out her neck, walking easily underneath him. Niels bumps his nose to hers as they head to the sand arena, and she snorts. Lambert gathers Niels back. “It’s not you, buddy,” he sighs, patting the gelding on the neck. “She’s just a stubborn cow.”

Geralt bites his tongue just as Roach’s ears flatten back. The only person allowed on her back is him; decreed by both her and Geralt’s boss. Alfred has watched the mare squabble and throw off too many other riders in the yard that he threatened to sell her on. An un-rideable horse wasn’t going to win him any trophies or money, so what good was it to him? Until Geralt climbed on one day, settling a hand on to her neck, and steered her through a good flatwork session – something no one could do with her before.

The sand arena has already been set up. A few stray workers fix the last of the jumps to the appropriate height, checking the strides in between double and triple jumps, and drift towards the edge of the arena. The sand is neatly combed and the trees surrounding one length of the arena are neatly trimmed. Most of the money Pankratz spends is pumped back into his facility, making sure it’s clean and proper for visiting investors and their families.

The house sits above them on a slight hill, and Geralt has grown used to not even acknowledging it. He looks over the arena, at every jump made up, and plots his course for the session. With Roach warmed, she starts picking up her stride, trying to break into a canter as her ears flick and her attention is caught by the high and brightly coloured jumps dotted around the arena.

Lambert keeps to his side. Before Geralt can shake him away, glowering at him to figure out his own path, the man nods at the house. “The trust fund is back.”

Geralt follows Lambert’s eye, brows knitting together at the sight he can just barely make out through the heat haze settling over the yard. Julian Pankratz, stretched out underneath the sun is in an undone sheer button-up shirt, revealing his chest and the dip of his hips. Just barely concealing him is a pair of denim shorts, practically underwear with how tightly they hug his hips and the top of his thighs.

Oxenfurt stole him away for almost a year. Not terribly far away, but enough of a distance for Geralt to notice the quiet left behind after he was gone. Yes, Jaskier Pankratz is a huge pain in his ass, and Jaskier’s sole mission in life seems to be giving Geralt as many grey hairs as possible, but the quiet that followed was deafening.

Lambert chuckles. “Miss him, did you?” he asks, squinting at Geralt’s face. “A hint of emotion almost showed just there.”

If Geralt could kick out at the other man, he would. Or reach across with his crop and leather Lambert across his shoulder. The man sets his heels to Niels’ side, pressing him forward as Lambert shakes in laughter.

His grip tightens on Roach’s reins. The ever-attentive mare snorts, pulling at her bit. Focus. Jaskier might be home, but with Roach threatens to curl around and nip at his toes, he sets her forward into a canter, and looks for his jumps.

Chatter quietens when he steps back into the barn, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and skin cooling the second the barn’s AC blasts him with cold air. Geralt arches an eyebrow at the sight of Eskel and Coën huddled against Scorpion’s stable, the stallion more interested in his haynet to the other corner of his stall, rather than the gossiping riders at his door.

Eskel’s lips thin. Whatever he had been saying is kept tightly behind them. Coën, though, regards Geralt for a moment as he passes, ushering Roach into her stable across the aisle. Roach spits out her own bit, shaking out the arena’s dust and grime from her mane as she pads over to her water trough. Just as Geralt sets his hands to the girth of her saddle, he can feel a pair of eyes falling on to him. “So,” Coën lilts, threading his arms through the stall’s grid and offering Geralt a small smile. “I see that the kid is home.”

Geralt’s lip threatens to lift. “He’s not a kid,” he grunts, undoing the last of the buckles keeping Roach’s tack on her. The moment he strips her saddle off, she does a full-bodied shake. He’ll wash her later, when she’s cooled off by herself and gotten something to drink.

He turns to Coën, the man wearing the same curled smirk on his lips as Lambert. “He’s a year younger than you,” Geralt says stiffly, setting Roach’s saddle on the stall door and threading her bridle over it. If he keeps his eyes on the ground, or making sure that Roach’s trough is refilling with water when she drinks, maybe Coën will go away.

But it’s not looking likely. “Are you going up to him?”

Geralt sighs. “Why?”

“Because you two were very close last summer,” Coën says, albeit a bit more subdued. Music is playing softly overhead, with someone having conquered the speakers and plugged in their phone instead. And the neighing of horses further down the aisle and people chattering among themselves won’t let Coën’s words be heard by any curious ears, but he appreciates the man’s attempt to keep it to themselves. Coën lifts a shoulder. “I thought you might want to, I don’t know—”

Eskel bats him away. Even through the murmur of conversation and horses kicking at their stall doors further down the barn, they can always make out the tell-tale footfalls of Alfred Pankratz. “Bellegarde!”

Even despite the mid-summer heat worming into the barn, despite the AC being blasted overhead, a chill threatens to shake through Geralt at the bellowing of his name down the aisle. Coën and Eskel break away, scampering back to their own horses’ stalls to gather their tack and go anywhere else.

Even Roach flashes him an apologetic look as he takes a steadying breath before stepping out of the stall. Geralt gathers Roach’s things, threading them over his arm, just before he is faced with Alfred Pankratz. “There you are, Bellegarde,” he quips. Spotting the tack on his arm, he waves a hand at it. “Leave that for someone else. Here, let Rhodes handle that. Rhodes! Rhodes, where are you—” Alfred spots Eskel in Scorpion’s stall. He snaps his fingers. “Rhodes, see that this is put way. Bellegarde, come with me.”

Geralt shoots Eskel a soft look before he follows Alfred. A walk towards the gallows if ever he saw one. He keeps his hands by his sides, fingers fidgeting as he wonders why Alfred would ever try to root him out during the day. Near competitions, Alfred will be glued to his side. Ever-watching eyes will only be on him, making sure that both he and Roach are ready for the event.

But now, he thinks back on the last few days and weeks, and he can’t imagine what Alfred could want with him—

Oh.

Geralt blinks at the sight of a familiar grey gelding pawing at the ground, bridled and saddled, and reins threaded over Jaskier’s arm as he fixes his gloves. Geralt’s breath threatens to catch in his throat. His tongue starts to thicken in his mouth, with any words he could say fading away.

Alfred sets a firm hand on to his shoulder. “Now, Bellegarde,” he says stiffly, “my son will be home for the summer and needs a steady hand to get him back into training.”

For all the fear in saying the wrong thing to Alfred Pankratz, his son doesn’t hold the same feeling. Jaskier sighs, something loud and exhaustive. “I don’t need help,” he mutters, reaching up to pull his gelding’s stirrups down. “I can work by myself.”

Alfred’s lip tightens. “Nonsense, boy. How are you going to correct your form if no one is watching you?” He nudges Geralt forward. “If we’re to get you competition ready, you can’t be slouching—”

An argument as old as time, ever since Jaskier was a baby and was put on to a horse’s back by his grandfather. A kinder man, for all that Geralt can remember of him. Pity his son turned out to be such an asshole—

Jaskier is already leading his gelding over to the nearby block, ignoring whatever feely pours from his father’s lips. Geralt is getting almost as good as the other man for ignoring it. Jaskier’s gelding, Pegasus, stands attentively while his rider hops up on to him, settling comfortably on to his back. The last gift to him before his grandfather passed away; a tiny black foal that turned whiter and whiter with every year. A foal that didn’t look like it would ever make anything of itself, but Geralt watched the hours Jaskier put in, and Pegasus can jump and event just as well as the best of them.

Jaskier just doesn’t want to compete.

Alfred grunts. “Go with him,” he waves Geralt away, catching the bridge of his nose before storming back to the barn. Geralt stands there for a moment, fingers fidgeting by his side, before he takes a measured breath and trails after Jaskier.

Pegasus brings them to the arena, and the second he’s inside, Jaskier nudges his heels to his side, and breaks him into a steady trot. Geralt stays by the fence, knowing when he’s not welcomed somewhere but if Alfred Pankratz seems him anywhere else, he’ll be murdered. So he stays, arms resting on the fence as he watches Jaskier send Pegasus down the lines of the arena, turning to do his circles.

And Alfred does have a point. Jaskier’s back has gotten soft, and his shoulders stoop inwards ever so slightly. But his leg and hands are good, as are his silent commands to Pegasus to slow back into a collected walk, or break forward into a canter. As Jaskier comes back from his circuit of the arena, he brings Pegasus from a collected and neat canter into a squared halt. The sand and dust plume away from him as he glowers down at Geralt. “I don’t need you here,” he says stiffly. “So go away.”

Geralt holds his glare. “You know your father will have my head if I leave—”

Jaskier’s lips thin. He gathers his reins, bowing Pegasus’ neck and setting his heels to the gelding’s side. He says nothing else, but nudges the horse into a canter away. Geralt watches him go. His fingers curl into the wood of the fence, picking at the paint starting to crack and flake away.

He’ll have a summer of this, whatever this is. And even if this is the first day of Jaskier being back, he already fucking hates it. The tightness in the corner of Jaskier’s lips, the glare threatening to glint in his eye when he rides past Geralt again, how stiff and square his shoulders are.

Geralt’s tongue sours. A whole summer, and it’s just starting.

Roach nudges her head into his armpit, almost knocking him off of his feet as he combs through the last of her mane just behind her ears. He huffs a quiet laugh, reaching under to scratch her chin. She’s quiet this morning, barely awake when he stepped into the barn and switched on the main lights. He’ll always be the first one here. He might hate the man who owns the property, but he’ll give every minute of his time for the horses.

With everyone else feed and watered, all that’s left to do is to groom Roach. And while she turns back to munch on her hay and oats, he takes this last free moment to untangle the worst knots in her mane. What she does in her sleep to make it so unkempt, he really has no idea. “If you can’t look after your hair, girlie, then we’re just going to have to shave it down,” he murmurs, smiling when her ears flatten back. “You’ll be like one of those proper polo ponies—”

She lifts a leg to kick back at him, but he’s known her long enough to know her tricks. Geralt steps out of the way and sets a hand on to her flank. “Cow,” he lightly scolds, running his eyes over her. Brushed and clean, with her hooves picked and shoes inspected. More and more riders and grooms arrived as the morning rolled on. He offered a small smile to Eskel as he passed, leaving a neatly packed bagel and oat bar in a paper bag for him at Roach’s stable door. Alfred tends to keep riders he likes, and Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert have been here for a few years. Coën joined them later, with Alfred having spotted him at a past event and held out an opportunity to change stables. Alfred isn’t only good at collecting horses, it seems.

He isn’t due to tack Roach up and be at the indoor arena for another hour, so he collects his bagged breakfast and roots through it. Eskel is his only reminder to feed himself, with how much time and energy he puts into looking after the horses in his care. Gods forbid if Eskel was ever gone. He would starve within the week.

The barn’s office originally belonged to Alfred. Enough of his trophies and ribbons adorn the walls. But within the last few years, he’s moved his business into the house. If any of his investors have to come into the barn, he’ll use the space; but for now, it’s just a glorified staff lunchroom. Lambert is already inside, shovelling the last of his own Eskel-baked bagel into his face while watching some show on his phone.

Before he can step inside, his ears prick at the sound of a car pulling into the courtyard. He looks out on to the cobbles, to a gleaming black Porsche parking beside Alfred’s. The man who steps out is young, maybe the same age as Geralt, with warm olive skin and perfectly quaffed black hair. A neatly trimmed and kept beard frames his face. Geralt’s brows knit together.

One of the grooms wanders over, presumably asking if the man is looking for anyone in particular. Just behind them, Geralt notices, Jaskier hurries down the cobblestone path leading towards the mansion house. Geralt’s tongue thickens in his mouth at the sight of him. Hair wet and freshly washed, glinting against the harsh sunlight. A pale blue tee cropped short, revealing his lean abdomen and waist, and denim shorts that hitch high on his hips.

Jaskier waves the groom away before threading his arm through the man’s, smiling at him as he leads them towards the house.

Geralt watches them go, lunch long forgotten about until a firm hand lands on his shoulder. “Let it go,” Coën murmurs behind him. He squeezes Geralt’s shoulder before slipping away, trying to draw him into the office. Geralt wordlessly follows, not that interested in his breakfast anymore.

Lambert looks up from his phone, brows knitting together as he sees Geralt pad by him. But a quick shake of Coën’s head silences any question that could be perched on the man’s tongue.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

And he can’t help it. Alfred’s voice fades away as he watches from the middle of the sand arena. He’s dressed down for the day; a crisp white button-up shirt and slacks, instead of his usual suit. Sunglasses shield his eyes, but Geralt knows that they’re as intense and peering as always.

Geralt can’t help it. As Roach canters neatly around the edge of the arena, he glances up at the house. And his stomach twists at the sight he sees. Two bodies lounging by the pool to the back of the Pankratz’s house. One familiar frame belongs to Jaskier; shirtless, but with tight and high shorts ridden up along his thighs. Wading into the pool is the man from earlier, and Geralt tries to force his eyes back on to Roach, happily cantering around the length of the arena while his blood starts to warm.

Lambert is on the other side of the arena, turning on the diagonal to approach a jump. Alfred stays behind, arms crossed in front of him as he watches Lambert’s gelding take sure strides towards the jump, but leaps early. Even though he’s on the other side of the arena, Geralt can hear Lambert grumbling under his breath from here. “Don’t let him run off on you like that, Blake!” Alfred calls.

The jump is still standing though, and that’s really all that matters in a timed event. But “I know, you fucking prick,” is all Geralt hears from the other man as he travels passed him. Roach’s ears prick, spotting the jump and wanting to join the others in approaching it. Geralt reaches down, scratching the peak of her withers. “Soon, baby girl, in a minute,” he murmurs, still intent on working on their flatwork for now.

He tries not to look. He keeps count of Roach’s sure strides in his head, but he does look. Eyes wander up towards the house, to Jaskier stretched out on a sunbed, lounging in the stifling summer heat, while the other man does his laps of the pool.

Geralt’s jaw flexes.

“Bellegarde!” Alfred calls, clicking his fingers. Geralt’s hold on Roach’s reins tighten. “Take the next diagonal to the jump. You’re next.”

If he’s looking for the jump then he won’t be looking up at the house. Fine. Roach’s ears are pricked and she bows her head, collecting her own canter as they round the corner and stretch down the diagonal. She pulls against him for a moment before settling into a rhythm as the jump comes into view. I’ve never steered you wrong, baby girl, he says to himself, before doing a mental count of their strides.

1

2

3

4—

Roach lifts herself up, popping easily over the jump. All Geralt has to do is lift himself high enough out of the saddle to let her back bend and arch into it. When they land, he gathers her up again and pushes her to the other corner before turning.

Behind him, there’s a sharp clap of hands. “There you go!” Alfred calls. “Now, that’s how you take a turn. Got it?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other riders, and Geralt’s face warms. Gods he hates it. He hates being used as an example. Lambert can give him shit about being Alfred Pankratz’s favourite because he’s known the man since they were spotty and gangly teenagers. But it’s the looks from everyone else he hates.

Roach snorts underneath him. Alfred continues to hold court with most of the riders on the far side of the arena, all letting their horses roll back into steady walks before halting. Geralt lets Roach do the same, and the mare throws back her head, wanting to jump again. He reaches up to scratch behind her ears.

Lambert sidles up beside him, avoiding Alfred’s ire. He reaches out to nudge Geralt’s elbow, before nodding up at the house. “So what’s going on there?” he asks lowly, making no attempt to be secret in where he’s looking. Lambert all but stands up in his stirrups, craning his neck to look at the back of the Pankratz’s house.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “How the fuck should I know?”

Lambert is quiet for a moment. “Well, good morning to you too, sunshine,” he whistles lowly. “What happened between you two that you became such a grump all of a sudden?”

Geralt bites at his tongue. “I don’t know,” he grunts.

His house isn’t too far away from the yard; no more than a thirty-minute drive. Alfred likes to keep his employees as close to the facility as he can. Some of the grooms live on-site, while Lambert took up the man’s offer of a small bungalow built near the farm, rented out and lived-in with Eskel.

Geralt’s house is the same; something that almost resembles a cabin as it sits further out than the others, near where the trees start to gather and thicken. It’s quieter out here, although living in the countryside is quiet anyway. With the main hum of traffic gone for the night, it’s dark and calm, and Geralt sighs as he sits down with a tumbler of whiskey caught in his hand.

He tries not to drink on working days, knowing that one will lead to another, and his following morning will be tampered with. He sets the glass on to the table beside him, slouching further into the plush leather couch while scrolling aimlessly through the TV channels.

The rest of the house is dark and quiet, with it being only him. Eskel and Lambert both offered to get a bigger place. If they pooled their gold together, they could have asked for a place for the three of them. Coën wanted in on the deal too, and no one saw any issue with it. But Geralt likes being this far out, he likes the quiet and the calm and the shelter away from prying eyes. The further away from Pankratz’s estate he can be, the better.

Just as he’s settling, warmth starting to ease the last bit of tension from his upper back and shoulders, his phone buzzes. Geralt takes a measured breath. It isn’t odd for him to get a call during the night from one of the overnight grooms to tell him that Roach or any other horses he rides for are causing mischief. He fishes his phone out of his sweatpants pocket, frowning at the number and name scrawled across the screen.

JASKIER

His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment as he regards the time. It’s not terribly late. Jaskier has called him in the middle of the night in the time before—

Geralt scrunches his eyelids, taking a moment to breathe. He swipes ANSWER before anything in his brain can tell him otherwise.

He sets the phone to his ear. “Jaskier?” he breathes.

The voice that floods the other line isn’t Jaskier’s. It doesn’t belong to anyone Geralt knows. And he frowns. “Geralt? Is this Geralt? Sorry, uh, I’m Jaskier’s friend and he has you as his emergency contact—”

His blood chills. Before he can catch up with his own body, he’s up from the couch and heading towards the front door. “What’s wrong?”

The man at the other end of the line sucks in a shaking breath. “We, uh, fuck. We were just hanging out and he, um. You’re not going to tell anyone are you?—”

Fuck this. “Did he take too much?” Geralt bites, gathering his keys and jacket from the rack beside the door. He stuffs his feet into his old worn boots, before doing a quick check on the house to make sure everything is off before he leaves.

The man swallows thickly. “Uh, shit, yeah. My guy is good though, I promise. I didn’t know that anything would be wrong with it, and I don’t know how many Jaskier—”

He fucking hates trust fund kids. Geralt snarls. “Listen,” he barks down the phone, leaving his house and sliding into his car. “Turn him on his side and wait for me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” He’s absolutely going to break a few speed limits, but fuck it. The man on the other end of the line bumbles a sure before Geralt hands up, tossing his phone on to the passenger seat and setting shaking hands on to the steering wheel. Fuck Jask, he thinks, sticking the keys in the ignition and pulling away from his house. What are you doing?

A flustered looking man meets him at the door, worrying his thumbnail between his teeth. “I didn’t know who else to call,” he babbles, following Geralt as he brushes past and stalks into the cabin. “Definitely not his dad. Gods, could you imagine? I mean, I guess I could have because this is an emergency. By the gods, he isn’t going to die is he?—”

Geralt doesn’t even look over his shoulder. He runs his eyes throughout the cabin; an expansive space made from stone and wood, like the main house, but suitably Jaskier’s. Even though he has his own room in the main house, most of his time is spent out here, away from prying patriarchal eyes. And it’s for this exact reason—

He crosses the main room of the cabin within strides, heading for the stretch of floor Jaskier is pooled on. He’s on his side – thank the fucking gods – with a small pool of spit dribbling out of his mouth. Geralt clicks his tongue. He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it on to the couch and setting his hands on to Jaskier. He feels the man’s forehead. Warm, but not overly so. His other hand settles on Jaskier’s chest, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, but not wanting to burst out of his chest, and his lungs fill with deep breaths.

Not the worst state he’s found the man in, but it still makes Geralt’s hands shake. He turns to Jaskier’s head, watching the man’s face intently. His eyes are open, dazed and looking straight ahead. “Jaskier. Can you hear me?” Geralt murmurs, pushing the man’s hair back from his face.

Jaskier hums. Something barely audible, but he nods afterwards. Good. Geralt wets his lip. “How much did you take?” He taps Jaskier’s face until the man’s eyes open again. It’s a struggle to keep them open. “How much weed did you take, Jaskier?”

The words take a while to reach him. Jaskier’s normally bright blue eyes are almost swallowed entirely by pupils. Jaskier’s lips crack open, words perched on his tongue. But he swallows thickly. Geralt frowns. He looks up, searching for the other man. He isn’t too far away, lingering just behind the couch. The question sits with him instead. “Uh, not much,” he offers, gesturing to the coffee table behind Geralt, “two blunts. We had some edibles too, but I don’t know if he took too many or—”

He doesn’t even have the ability to tell the guy to shut up. He turns back to Jaskier, carding his fingers through the man’s hair and watching him slowly begin to realise who’s in front of him. Jaskier’s brows knit together, a soft frown that barely settles on to his face. “Geralt,” he murmurs, blearily reaching out and curling his fingers on Geralt’s arm. “Wha, why are you—”

The man behind the couch pipes up. “Do we have to call someone else? Like, paramedics or—”

“—No,” Geralt mutters, slipping his arms under Jaskier’s shoulders and knees before hoisting him into his arms. Gods, he’s light. Lighter than he was before—

He winces, shaking the thoughts and memories out of his head. Jaskier slumps against him, arms hanging like dead weights, but Geralt watches his chest lift and fall. Good. “He just needs to sleep,” he murmurs, feet already taking him towards Jaskier’s room.

The man left behind continues to pace and wring his hands, but he’s forgotten about the moment Geralt steps into Jaskier’s bedroom. It’s one of two, but this one is more like the man himself. His guitar is perched near his desk; a mess of notebooks and papers and books. More scattered clothes lie on the floor and on the back of chairs than in his wardrobe.

Geralt’s chest tightens. He pads over to the bed, gently setting Jaskier down and making sure the man stays on his side. He cards his fingers through Jaskier’s hair again, pushing it out of his face. Jaskier’s eyes crack open again. It takes a moment, but Jaskier reaches out again, blearily trying to catch Geralt’s hand in his.

Geralt’s tongue swells in his mouth. He lets Jaskier catch his hand, curling their fingers together in a loose hold. His skin is warm and familiar, and Geralt’s heart aches. When Jaskier speaks, it’s low and murmured and half-lost to the pillow he’s shoving his face into. “Stay,” he mumbles.

Someone should stay with him. Just in case he throws up in the middle of the night, or has some sort of hallucination—

Geralt squeezes Jaskier’s hand. “Sure,” he rumbles, keeping his voice low. A small smile threatens to curl the corner of Jaskier’s lip, but sleep takes him under before it can form. Geralt lingers for a moment, kneeling at Jaskier’s bedside, feeling the man’s grip on his hand loosen and loosen until Geralt can pull away. He does one last quick check on Jaskier before he stalks away. The cabin is bigger than his own house, but it’s nothing like the mansion next door. He would have gotten lost in that mansion if it weren’t for Jaskier.

He stalks back to the living room, eyeing the box of weed and filter papers and plastic bags scattered on the table. The man responsible for it wrings his hands together. “Take that shit and get out,” Geralt snarls, the corner of his lip threatening to lift. The man blinks at him before he scampers forward, gathering everything and heading for the door. Before he can step outside, he’s stopped by a firm hand catching his wrist. Geralt leans close, making sure every word he says is clear and understood. “You don’t mention a word of this to anyone. Not to your friends. Not to Jaskier’s parents. Not to anyone. Understood?”

The man’s mouth gapes as he struggles to find words. He nods instead, swallowing thickly. Geralt’s grip on him loosens before the man scampers away. Geralt huffs, closing and locking the door. The cabin has always been a mess. He doesn’t need to pick up Jaskier’s jacket or shoes or the many, many cartons of take-out food and drink cans littering the table. He leaves his jacket behind as he pads back to the man’s room, shutting off lights as he goes.

Jaskier’s room is still. The man is stretched out in his bed, slumped to the side and almost falling over. One arm hangs heavily over the side of the bed, fingers grazing the wooden floors below him. But the soft breaths and the gentle lift and falls of his chest, Geralt knows that the man is asleep. He’ll stay sleeping, gods be good, for the rest of the night.

Geralt’s lips thin. He goes to the bathroom, collecting a towel to set on the floor beside Jaskier, just in case he does get sick during the night. At least neither of them will have a mess to clean up off of the floor. The room is so quiet, and he hates it. Jaskier always makes noise. Mindless chatter that used to burrow into Geralt’s ears and prod at his brain. He misses it. In the quietness left behind, he misses Jaskier’s voice and all of the useless shit he used to talk to him about.

His chest tightens.

Jaskier shuffles in bed, whining softly and burying his face into his pillow. Geralt’s fingers fidget by his side, not quite knowing where would be a good place for him to keep his watch. He pads over to Jaskier’s desk, moving any clothes that had been draped and tossed over the back of the chair on to the pile already gathered on the floor. He takes a seat, huffing at the press of wood into his back.

It’ll be for a few hours. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, tapping out a quick message to Eskel.

Geralt [00:34] – Could you look after Roach in the morning for me? Going to be late.

Eskel [00:38] – Sure thing. Are you okay?

Geralt [00:39] – I’m fine.

And it’s left at that. Geralt puts his phone away, letting the soft glow of one lamp perched on Jaskier’s desk light the room. Jaskier doesn’t move much in his sleep, but sighs heavily every so often. Geralt shifts his seat, trying his best to get as comfortable as he can and crossing his arms over his chest. His watch is going to be a long one, and one that he doesn’t mind at all.

Jaskier sleeps, barely twitching, but Geralt listens to him breathe. Soft breaths against his pillows, followed by gentle snores. Familiar sounds that have Geralt’s chest tightening and tightening, until he worries that he won’t be able to breathe. Sleep won’t come easily for him, he knows that. But he sits back into the chair, sighing as he closes his eyes, trying to chase it down all the same.

It’s a wordless morning. Geralt rubs at his eyes, wincing at the harsh morning light stretching into the cabin. With the summer months starting to settle in, the nights are short and the days are long. Just as the moon slinks away, it’s reappearing again only a moment later. His stomach rumbles and every muscle in his shoulder and upper back groans and protests him trying to sit up from the chair.

He winces as he works out a bad crick in his neck, trying to roll his head and stretch the lines there, but a shuffling sound from the bed catches his attention. He watches Jaskier slowly claw back at consciousness, climbing up and up until he musters just enough energy to lift his head from his pillow and bury it into the crook of his arm instead. Another deep sigh leaves him before he tries again, looking around his side of the room and frowning.

Jaskier’s voice is nothing more than a harsh rasp. “What happened?” he murmurs.

“You had too many edibles,” Geralt replies lowly, regarding the other man for a moment. Jaskier rubs at his face, wincing at the sun too. Even with the curtains pulled, sunlight streams in from the higher windows, the ones near the tall vaulted ceilings.

Geralt can feel his blood starting to warm. His words are measured and slow, taking their time to crawl out of his mouth. “Who was that guy?” he asks calmly. At Jaskier’s slightly puzzled expression, Geralt continues on. “The guy who was here last night. Who was he?”

Jaskier glowers at him. The haze that had clouded his eyes is long gone, revealing the bright blue that Geralt remembers, but something vile and spiteful sits in them now. “Why do you care?”

Geralt clicks his tongue. “Jaskier.”

There’s a bit of a struggle to detangle himself from his sheets, but Jaskier manages. He sets his bare feet on to the floor, taking a moment to rub at his face and think. “I don’t know, uh, Chireadan,” Jaskier winces, “yeah, Chireadan.”

Geralt levels him with a look. “You don’t even know his name.”

Jaskier’s head snaps, eyes glaring at him. “His name is Chireadan, Geralt,” he bites. “There you go. A perfectly good name.”

Geralt holds his stare. “Where did you meet him?”

“Fucking, gods alive, why do you care?”

“I care when you overdose on some powerful shit with a guy you barely know,” Geralt bites back, the arch of his lip threatening to lift.  

Jaskier snorts sharply. “Overdose, I had two blunts and—”

“—And when I got here, you were spaced out and beyond words.” Geralt doesn’t yell. He growls and snaps at people, but he doesn’t yell. And his voice is climbing in volume now, dangerously close to baring his throat raw. “What if something happened, hmm? If you had choked on your own vomit because you were too fucking spaced out to roll on to your side? What if that guy – Chireadan – took advantage of you—?”

“Just fucking stop, Geralt,” Jaskier snarls, standing up and teetering slightly on his feet. Gods alive, he’s like a newborn colt finding his first steps in the world. He has to catch the end post of his bed as he shuffles past Geralt, making a straight line for the cabin’s main room. Without as much as another word or look at Geralt.

Fuck this. “What’s your problem?” Geralt snaps, stalking after Jaskier. “The last time you and I spoke, it was a year ago; and then it was fucking radio silent after that. What happened? No texts while you were in Oxenfurt. Nothing about you coming home for the summer. When I tried talking to you last week you damn near bit my head off. And now this? What the fuck is wrong with you—?”

“—Because you kissed someone else!” Jaskier roars back at him, eyes steely, but reddened with unshed tears. Jaskier’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. “You fucking prick! I saw you! You and Yennefer, making out in that fucking bar downtown!”

The words cut at his skin and the silence left behind is deafening. Jaskier’s breath shakes as it leaves him, as he winces when he catches up with his words. Geralt’s throat bobs. “Jask,” he rasps.

“Don’t ever call me that again,” Jaskier growls, voice low and trembling. He rubs at his face, skin starting to redden and blotch. “Get out.”

Geralt’s brows knit together. His feet are rooted to the ground below him.

Jaskier winces. “Get out!” he roars, turning and stalking to the kitchen. With the open-plan of the cabin, he doesn’t get out of Geralt’s eye line. And that’s the worst part. Geralt watches him catch the sharp edge of the granite kitchen counter, taking a sharp inhale as he roots around for a glass.

Something tells him to move. A quiet voice that fights through all the others telling him valid reasons to stay, to keep an eye on Jaskier and make sure he’s alright.

Go.

Geralt swallows. His tongue sits heavily in his mouth as he swallows, almost choking as his throat bobs and clenches. He wanders towards the couch, collecting his jacket, before heading to the door. He spares Jaskier one last look. The man’s knuckles are white as he hangs on to the granite, keeping his legs underneath himself as he breathes.

Go.

[writersrealmbts]

Train Tracks: Route 1; Not Pregnant

Description: Hybrid!Reader x Taehyung: As a hybrid you have no worth and your means of survival is digging through the trash, working odd jobs for those who are more kind-hearted, and–unfortunately–pick-pocketing. When you choose the wrong target, things take a strange turn as this obviously wealthy man enters your life.

Warnings: I think this part is clean, but let me know if it’s not.

Posted: 05/16/2019

Tags: Taehyung, Human Taehyung, Hybrid Reader

Mostly fluffy: 3,896 words

A/N: I like the way this route turned out much better than the way the other route turned out. This one just feels more natural while the other gave me so much trouble that I just sort of gave up on it. Either way, enjoy one of the two endings for Train Tracks!

You peered around the training facility, trying to determine where Taehyung was. The freshest scent he had left appeared to lead towards the puppy-room, which wasn’t surprising. There was a fresh batch of fluffy puppies that were staying here for a while so he could find those that would make good service dogs. You peeked in first, watching him with the pups. He was good with the dogs, firm but kind, indulgent but with moderation. He trained them well. “They’re hungry, didn’t you feed them yet?” You asked, finally entering. He looked up at you, first in surprise, then with a grin. “Wanted them to work for their food. Help me?” “Everyone, you have to sit,” You instructed. They took a few minutes but eventually they were all sitting. The two of you passed out some kibble as a treat, then he started teaching them to lay down one by one while you kept the others distracted. You tossed a tennis ball and watched the pups stumble over themselves and each other without ever reaching the ball because they started playing with each other instead. Dogs. A shadow was cast over you, and you flinched, looking up at Taehyung. Both of you were standing, him at least ten inches taller than you, but probably more. You could just barely flick the top of his head with your tail. Your eyes widened when you saw him suppressing a grin after you flicked the hair on his head with your tail. “Cute,” He chuckled, then passed you to get to the food bin to get more treats. 

You crouched to play tug with one of the puppies that was tugging at your pant-leg, avoiding his gaze with all your might. “So, my buddy is free tomorrow. Would it be okay if we came and got your place ready for winter?” He asked, scooping up his next training victim. “I suppose.” “I’ll take that as a yes. Jungkook said he was free to help as well.” You nodded. “Okay.” The two of your were pretty quiet for a while. “You’re really comfortable with Jungkook, aren’t you?” You blinked a couple times to let your mind catch up. “I guess so.” “More than me?” You sat back on your heels, flicking your tail out of the puppies’ reach. “About the same, I think.” “Really?” “Well, I know you better now.” “So you’re more comfortable with me?” “A little, I guess.” He was smiling triumphantly, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you get him to lay down on command?” You asked, looking at the pup that was basically eating the kibble out of Taehyung’s hand. He glanced down and quickly closed his hand with a soft groan. “No.” You batted his head gently. “Focus.” “Yes, ma’am.” You squeaked as sharp little puppy teeth got your tail. You looked back at the excited pup and sighed. “Yes, yes, you won. Now let go. It’s attached and that hurts.” The pup let get, licking it apologetically. “Good boy, who’s a good boy?” You rubbed his sides until he fell over and then rubbed his belly. “That’s the one that keeps trying to go home with you.” You grinned and scooped him up. “That’s because he’s a good boy.” “Very good boy,” He added. “Maybe he should be your dog.” You rubbed your nose against his fur. He still smelled like the puppy-shampoo you had washed all of them with the previous day, which was nice. “He might be a good companion for you if you’re still running around town alone. You have a job where he could come with you, he could eat here if you’re worried about food. You don’t have to decide now, we can keep training them.” Taehyung sat next to you, obviously giving up on training for now. It was pretty routine by now. He would get distracted and you would subtly keep training the pups by talking with them. Then he would work on some paperwork while eating lunch and you would work with one of the older dogs that was getting ready to be placed with an owner. You would play in a wheel-chair and the dog would get things for you and open doors and then you would fall out of the wheel-chair and so on and so forth. “Maybe. If he’s not adopted by the time he’s seven months, I’ll take him,” You agreed, leaning your head onto Taehyung’s shoulder. His hand rested on your head. “So, Yoongi, Jungkook, and I will be there tomorrow, probably a little after first light. “I’ll warn the wolves not to attack you,” You replied calmly. “Make sure you don’t draw too much attention to where you go. Can you find it on your own after you leave the East gate.” He nodded. “Yeah, I can find it.” “Are you sure, because you couldn’t even find the East gate. And Jungkook said it was morning when you tried.” He pouted. “I can find it.” “I’ll write down directions,” You said, heading over to the desk and grabbing the pad and paper. He was looking over your shoulder as you wrote out instructions. “Where���d you learn to write?” You felt hot with embarrassment. “Chanyeol taught me what he knew. I can read better than I can write. I’ve had a few odd jobs reading to some elderly folk.” He put his hand over yours and guided the pen over the page. “Like this.” You watched your letters form better under his guidance, swallowing a little to get past the knot in your throat. “Sorry.” “It’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault the government treats you as worse than animals. I can get you some books to help you improve, then I can give you more responsibility.” He shrugged and left your side. You read through the note, knowing that some of it was probably misspelled. You almost wanted to crumple it up and throw it away. Try again until it was perfect. “Hey, you heard me, right? It’s okay. I can read it, and that’s what matters.” The puppy plopped onto your foot, licking your ankle. Taehyung gently pulled the instructions from your hand, folded them and put them in his pocket, then took your hands in his much larger ones. They encompassed your hands, making them look like the hands of a child which also gave you mixed feelings. But his hands were warm. “Look at me,” He instructed. You tentatively looked up at his face. “Don’t worry so much about it. I didn’t even know you could write, so I’m pretty impressed. Most hybrids don’t know how to read or write. If it bugs you, then we’ll work together to improve your ability. Okay?” You nodded hesitantly. “Don’t cry,” he whispered more gently, cupping your face in his hands. “Everything’s okay.” You sniffled and pressed your face into his chest so that he at least wouldn’t see the tears falling. He held you tightly. “Oh, kitten.” You pinched him. “Not a kitten.” He chuckled. “Sure you are. You’re small and cute and you have ears and a tail, and you purr when you’re happy.” “I also scratch when I’m grumpy or indignant.” He squeezed you and rubbed his face in your hair before releasing you. “Better. Now, can you take the puppies outside to play a bit. Maybe work on some basic commands? I have to have a conference call with someone who’s trying to find a service dog.” You nodded and herded the pups out into the sunshine of the yard, trying to determine when exactly your tears had stopped. ——— You fell on your butt as the root finally came loose in your hands. You huffed and shook the plant to get some of the dirt off of it, then tossed it into your basket and turned to dig around the next one. You were working just a short distance from the road since you didn’t think Taehyung would actually be able to find the way, even with your directions, gathering some chicory plants. The flowers were a bit bitter, but you could still eat those, and the leaves were edible too, but you were mostly after the roots. You liked to bake them and then grind them up, mixing it with roasted and ground dandelion roots to make your own sort of coffee that you liked to drink on especially cold mornings in winter. You also needed to check on the wild grapes over by the abandoned train station and see if any were ripe. You had some turning into raisins on the roof of the train car that you had gathered from a spot closer to town on your way home the previous evening, but the grapes at the train station were extensive and somewhat sweeter. In a week or so you would start gathering rose hips. Probably another two weeks before the persimmons would be ripe enough to be edible. You could gather from your little patch of wild onion you’d cultivated the past four years any time you wanted, having already harvested some to dry in an onion braid. The barberry could also be harvested at any time, though you figured you should do it sooner rather than later considering your bird competition seemed stronger this year. You took out a small notebook that Taehyung had given you and the stump of pencil you now carried around with it, writing down all of the things you still needed to gather for winter, including chickweed, acorns, walnuts, crab-apples, various mushrooms, and your potatoes in the other garden patch that your bunny friend watches over in return for some carrots in winter. “I know it was somewhere along this road!” “As long as you don’t try to take us into another thorn bush,” Someone muttered. You rolled your eyes and stood up. “Taehyung?” He turned and grinned. “Hey!” Then he pouted. “You didn’t think I would find it?” “I just heard them confirm that you couldn’t find it,” You replied, bending back down and pulling the last root out and shaking it before tossing it into the basket as well and tucking your notebook back into your sweater pocket. “I realized it was the wrong path!” “You were about to lead us into the undergrowth on the wrong side of the road,” Jungkook pointed out. “Just like you did back there.” Taehyung made a face, bounding over to you and holding out a small bouquet of goldenrod and tansy. “They looked bright and happy.” You smiled and took it. “Thank you. I’ll use them before they die.” “Use them?” His head tilted with curiosity. “Well, tansy is good for the skin so I like to make a tea from it and then concentrate it, sometimes I’ll add it to my soap. It’s also good for fevers. Goldenrod is edible and medicinal, so I like to gather the flowers and leaves.” You rubbed your face into the soft goldenrod. “Thank you.” You would have to add both to your list of things to still forage. And garlic. And mallow, though you hated going into the marsh, but you could also get some cedar, and maybe some Labrador tea or bog rosemary as well. “You weren’t kidding,” The one stranger said. He was watching you with a slightly curious expression, a half-smile on his face but sadness in his eyes. You tensed, gaze darting between the two strangers. One had to be Yoongi, but who was the other? “Of course I was,” A different voice replied. Then you noticed another three strangers that had been hidden by Tae’s body and the tree by the road. “I can explain,” Taehyung started. You looked up at him, then at the strangers that were slowly approaching. One held a bouquet of sunflowers, another had a bouquet of lavender and some other herb that you couldn’t identify at this distance. The last two were carrying toolbags and hauling a wagon of supplies. They must have made quite the procession going through the village. “Um, they wanted to hang out, but we told them we were working on a project and then they kept pestering us so we explained the project and that we were doing it for you and they volunteered to come. But I said it probably wasn’t a good idea because you had been hesitant in the first place, but they kept arguing and said that with more help it would go faster…and that sounded true, so I caved and they’re here but they also brought you flowers and they helped get the supplies and tools here and please don’t ask your animal friends to hurt us?” You blinked a couple times, then with a final lash of your tail nodded sharply. “Okay, so, you know Jungkook. This one is Yoongi, the one that actually knows what he’s doing.” He gestured to a shorter man that looked somewhat cat-like himself. You dipped your head and he nodded back. “The one next to him is Namjoon.” The conflicted one from earlier smiled and waved. “Nice to meet you.” You just nodded again. “This is Jimin,” He indicated the man that came up to you with the lavender and herb bouquet. “I told them you’d prefer useful bouquets. This has lavender, rosemary, sage, catmint, and thyme.” He had a soft voice, and you liked it. He also had a pleasant aura. “Nice to meet you,” You replied, taking the bouquet he offered and not meeting his gaze. He sort of giggled and stepped back. “Seokjin is the one pulling the wagon, and Hoseok is the one holding and imitating sunflowers.” Hoseok chuckled and gestured to your full arms. “I’ll give it to you when we’re there.” You nodded gratefully. “Um, I guess follow me?” They all nodded, Jungkook taking your basket before you could. You led the way, extremely self-conscious that you were leading not three, but seven men to your home. You had to be out of your mind. There were whispered conversations between some of the boys, but you couldn’t pick up exactly what was said between your racing heart and the wind blowing through the plants and creating a ruckus. And that stupid robin that never knew when to shut its beak. “Whoa-whoa-whoa, we have to go down that?” Hoseok asked, sounding a little nervous. You turned back and smiled. “It’s safe.” You held out your hand to him after shifting the bouquets. He smiled a little and took it. You led the way through the dark, listening to the boys tease each other but focusing on leading Hoseok through, feeling the way he flinched resonate through his hand. You purred softly as the sound died down to barely an echo in the tunnel, seeing the light ahead. Hoseok relaxed once the end was clearly in sight, and seemed to sigh once out of the tunnel. The other boys were quiet, looking at the train car. Taehyung glanced at you. “Is it ready for us?” You nodded. “I packed things up and cleaned. Not the kitchen, because of last night, but I have everything moved.” You nodded toward the carefully organized pile in the protective lean-to you had constructed the previous day. “Or boxed up inside. I wasn’t exactly sure what you meant by preparing for winter.” Yoongi looked for permission before entering the train-car, disappearing inside when you nodded. He came out a moment later. “You live here all year?” “For years.” He looked back inside. “Alright, let me make a plan before you all come plodding in. Y/n, if you have other things to do, go ahead and do them. With these bozos it’ll get pretty crowded.” “Might be less stressful,” Jimin suggested softly. “And Taehyung can be your assistant.” “What?” Taehyung started pouting. “No, hyung, Namjoon should help her instead,” Jungkook protested. “He’d break her,” Seokjin objected. You looked up and decided you might need to move your raisin-making pan to a better location. While they were debating, you climbed up into the roof of the car and got the pan. “How did you get up there?” Jungkook asked, eyes lighting up. You gestured to the ladder, then climbed down with the pan, taking it farther down the tracks and setting it in a spot that got sun all day. You came back to them and looked between all of them. “I think you’ll be pretty crowded with even five people. I have a whole list of things to do, so whoever you think you don’t want around, Yoongi-oppa, I’ll put to work.” He nodded. “Take Namjoon and Taehyung.” You took the basket from Jungkook and went to spread the roots in the sun to dry while you worked. “We’re your servants for the day,” Namjoon said, walking over with Taehyung. You dumped the dirt from the basket and handed it to Namjoon. “We’ll need a few more baskets for what I have planned.” You went back to the car, ducking in and grabbing the stack of baskets, and the bags you could tie to your belt. “Two baskets each.” You grabbed the fish traps from the wall as well. They both grabbed extra baskets. You took some strips of fabric and wove them through so that you could strap one to your back. Taehyung took the other one. “What is this?” “Fish trap. I thought we could set them up on the way to the station.” You shifted, looking down. “Last year we were catching fish every day until they stopped entering the trap on top of scavenging in town.” “Well, you’ll also have some money since you’re working…” Taehyung pointed out. You nodded a little. “True. But I’d like to save as much of that as I can. Get myself a coat.” “I could get you a coat,” he offered softly. You shook your head adamantly. “Please,” He whispered. “No. You’re already doing all of this,” You gestured to the car. “And you’ve given me a job, blankets, and you insist on sending food home with me every day. It’s more than enough.” “I could never do enough for you,” Taehyung replied, holding your gaze. You stared back at him, a little startled. “We should go. We’re burning daylight and Yoongi said you were my assistants for today.” You hurried past him and down the path towards the station, heart racing at the look in Taehyung’s eyes. You didn’t know what it was, but part of you wanted to keep seeing it. ———— You stared out the window at the snow falling, holding a cup of your homemade coffee substitute. It was one of your weekends off and part of you wanted to go out into the snow and check on your animal pals. The other wanted to stay warm and curled up in the nest of blankets you had made. Your home was substantially warmer than it had been before thanks to the insulation that Yoongi had installed. The whole place was a little nicer since Yoongi’s work. Taehyung had had them sneak in and install a wood-burning stove that effectively heated your home without the fire hazards of your kitchen, which also had an oven feature and two burners. You didn’t worry about stoking the fire in the middle of the night, or freezing to death because you slept. You were perfectly capable of having a lazy day. Your door opened and panic rose in you. Taehyung quickly closed the door, shaking himself off and stripping his hat, coat, and gloves after setting down your puppy. “Morning.” “Morning?” He warmed his hands by the stove. “Chilly this morning. Ooh, is that coffee?” “Sort of,” You replied, still confused by his sudden arrival. “It’s dandelion and chicory.” “Can I try some?” “Sure?” You shifted to get up. “No, no, stay cuddled and warm.” He lifted the puppy onto your bed (which he had also modified when they were all in here, the sneak) then poured himself a mug of your coffee. Then—this part really baffled you—he had the audacity to come over and crawl into your nest with you and the puppy. You sat there silently for a few minutes. “So…um…what brings you here?” “Got lonely.” “And your friends weren’t available?” “They were, but I like you best.” He snuggled in, hands finally warm after warming them on the sleepy puppy. He’d been getting progressively touchier around you, especially if the other guys were there. He would get grumpy and pouty if Jungkook, Hoseok, or Jimin got near you, which was frustrating because they were the ones you were most comfortable with since the other three were just a little too shy to get on just yet. “Um…okay…” You sort of resigned yourself to his presence. He fell asleep a short time after finishing his cup, holding onto you. Which left you with the options of sitting there while he slept growing bored and restless, or taking a quick little nap. A cat nap. You woke up purring, nuzzling into the warm body next to you and licking at the skin. “Did you just lick me?” His voice was deep, both teasing and seductive. You gasped and pulled away. His sleepy gaze, damn him. And how did you not notice that his collarbone was so pronounced, especially as it peeked out of that shirt. “Kitten,” he rumbled. “Are you going into heat?” You squeaked in protest to the dreaded words. But he was right. Damn him. Damn him, damn him…holy crap his hair looked amazing when he just woke up. He made a soft shushing noise. “It’s okay, kitten. We thought as much. YOu’ll be in full heat tomorrow, probably.” “We?” You asked in a squeaky tone. “Jimin and I. He works with hybrids. I consulted him because you’ve been…well…” He shrugged. “Sort of clingy and needy. Pouty too.” “I think you just described yourself…” His mouth dropped. “What?! I’m not—” “You broke into my home and climbed into my bed, and I can’t talk to your friends because then you get pouty and grumpy.” “Only because you belong to me,” He protested, then sat up and held up his hands. “Wait, I meant that…no…I said the wrong word…wait…” You watched in wide-eyed confusion as he tried to correct himself but made a mess. “You’re not a belonging, but you belong with me and not them because they’re trash, but I love you and I think we could be really happy together and I never want to see you suffer and this bed is really great and I don’t mind if you still want to live out here sometimes, it’s a nice location and it’s really actually quite frugal and I like that you’re frugal—” He gasped for breath, then tilted his head. “Can I kiss you?” You just stared at him, trying to process everything he just spewed at you. He loved you, his friends were trash, he liked that you were frugal, and could he kiss you? Was that right? That couldn’t be right. You must have already been a bit feverish. Or dreaming. Or feverish and dreaming. That was most likely. Then his lips pressed softly to yours.

Masterlist. ~ Part 2. ~ Route 2

Tagging: @jiminslye​

[imnotcupid96-blog]

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[athike2015]

21 Nov 2015

Welcome to my reliving of my 2015 AT hike.  I have decided to share my trip as a day by day memory.  Each day I will share my personal journal (what I captured while hiking the trail), my comments (thoughts about the journal/trail from present day), and pictures from the day of the hike.

Miles hiked (day / trip) - 11.6 / 1900.8

Staying - NC208 / Ashville

Journal

Crazy day.  I had planned to be in Hot Springs.  Instead I’m in Asheville.  Got off trail b/c my shin was hurting - really bad.  I walked up to a house near Mom’s store (closed) and asked to use their phone to call for a ride.  Ride out of Hot Springs is late and we won’t make hours for urgent care.  Stopped at a coffee shop to use a phone to ask urgent care to stay open.  Doctor had already left.  Owner of the phone was headed to Mars Hill to pick up prescription for her daughter who stepped on a rake (that morning).  Mars Hill facility couldn’t see me until 5 pm.  Owner of a brewpub asked if I wanted to hang at a bar while waiting to be seen.  Went to bar, ate great food, and the owner said I had no tab - Trail Magic.  Went back to the urgent care where they immediately took me in. Stumped the doctor - pain was not typical place for shin splints.  X-ray showed signs of stress fracture, but she wouldn’t call it.  Off to Asheville hospital.  X-ray and MRI (my first) and the pain is a stressed muscle.  RICE for a week.  Hospital paid for taxi to Sweet Pea hostel.  Great brewpub (Lexington Ave) w/10% discount.

Crazy day.

Comments

I’m reposting a previous story.  It is the more coherent version of my journal.

“The trail will provide” was a common phrase on the AT.  Many people used the phrase when amazing circumstances happened allowing continued hiking.  Some used it to indicate that were out of food and needed cash to buy their next resupply.  I wasn’t a believer in the trail providing - I worked hard to ensure I had what I needed….. That was true until Asheville.

Prior to Asheville, I had hurt my shin.  I was hiking to get to Hot Springs and medical advice.  Unfortunately, my plans needed to change and that’s when amazing circumstances happened and “the trail provided”.

The morning of Nov. 21 started normal enough.  Wake up before dawn.  Eat breakfast (I’m guessing cereal and milk with a side of honeybun).  Drink coffee.  Pack up.  Start hiking slightly before sun rise.  My goal was 26 miles to Hot Springs…. hopefully before dark.

My shin was hurting before the hike.  I created compression bands out of duct tape (the bands were on top of my “compression socks” previous created).  The shin pain increased significantly before my first snack… less than one hour of hiking.  I started stretching my shin (pulling my heel to my butt and raising the toe toward my head).  The pain would reduce for a few minutes, but always came back.  I “needed” to hike fast - 26 miles isn’t going to be easy to complete in a day with ~10 hours of day light.

The pain was getting worse.  I started looking for options.  A hostel was about 1 mile away.  Perfect.  I will go to the hostel and figure out the next steps.  The hostel was closed due to illness (What illness closes a hostel?  Definitely not worth going for help if they are closed due to an illness).

Next option… There is a road with a store.  Perfect.  I can go to the store, use their phone, and go to town.  Get to road (NC208) and see store.  It’s clear the store hasn’t been open in a while (maybe a year or more).  Cell service - nope (thanks AT&T).  This is the last road before Hot Springs… So I leave the trail now or hike to Hot Springs.  Next option… hike to cell service.  Which way is the best?  No clue - I’ll just keep going the direction I’m going.

100 yards from the store I hear noises.  There are a couple of guys fixing a porch.  It’s the only house I see.  Houses have phones - wonder if they will let a smelly hiker use theirs.  By this time, I was comfortable asking a couple of random people to help me and it went well - sure I can use the phone.

I needed to get to the urgent care medical facility in Hot Springs.  AWOL (AT guide book) listed local transportation.  Called an outfitter (that provides transportation) - he typically needs 1 day to provide transportation, but he’ll get back to me…. wait, he can’t call my cell phone (felt bad giving to house phone number to a random outfitter - not sure how it would be used).  I’ll call back in 30 minutes.

So I sit on their front porch while the guys are working.  It looks like they are fixing the roof supports.  30 minutes later I confirm transportation - he is on his way.  He’ll meet at the “store”.  I need to be at the store when he gets there, because the medical facility closes at noon (its 11:15am) and it takes ~30 minutes to drive to Hot Springs.  I thank my host (multiple times) and walk to the store.

Driver shows up (late - 11:40).  First words - we’re not going to make it; call the medical facility when you get a signal.  You should get signal in a about a mile.  No signal.  I know of a coffee shop, we can stop if you don’t have a signal. Coffee Shop - No Signal.  Driver runs in and comes out with a cell phone.  “I don’t know how to use these” (What?  Cell phones? - I don’t care).  Unlock and call the medical facility.  

Medical Facility - Doctor just left

Me - Can you get her back?

Medical Facility - Once she’s gone she’s gone.  But there’s a facility in Mars Hill that is open.

Me - Mars Hill?

As I’m handing the phone back to its owner (she walked outside during the call), she mentions she’s going to Mars Hill and she’ll give me a ride.  It turns out her daughter had stepped on a garden rake that morning (puncturing the skin) and she needed to go to Mars Hill to get antibiotics.

So I’m in a car with a complete stranger and her daughter for a 40 minute ride to Mars Hill.  I thank her (as I exit the car) and head into the Mars Hill Urgent Care.  

No appointments until 5pm.  Really, its 12:30pm.  This doesn’t seem “urgent”.

Sitting outside talking with Abby (first cell signal where I could provide an update) and a guy ask “Are you a hiker?” (No a bad guess). “Want to come to my bar for food while you wait on your appointment?”.  Sure, I got nothing but time.  Eat a great lunch at Stackhouse (I would go again - really good food, nice beer selection - not what I expected in a college town).  I ask for my check so that I can go back to the medical facility (and maybe get in earlier).  Bartender - “My brother said to take care of you.  You don’t have a check.”  Thank him (this is getting to be standard) and leave an enormous tip.

Walk to the medical facility (¼ mile away - that took a long time).  The receptionist immediately recognizes me - “I’ll take you back in a couple of minutes.”  What?  Its 1:30?  Apparently, once you are in a room, the doctor will see you.  In my case, significantly reduced my wait.

Doctor sees me and thinks I have signs of a stress fracture (AWESOME), but she can’t make that call because she’s family practice.  I need to go to Asheville Hospital (even more AWESOME) to get x-rays and MRI.  How am I going to get to Asheville - It’s 30 miles away.

Back on the phone with the outfitter.  He has taxi services in Asheville.  30 minutes later I’m in a taxi to Asheville.  Thank her and exit the taxi.  Check in at the desk.  

Receptionist - “I’m sorry, but the MRI machine is backlogged for weeks.  You can’t get an MRI today”.  

Me - “I was told to get an x-ray and an MRI”.  

Receptionist - “Hold on.”  Picks up phone.  “It looks like you have been scheduled.  Must have been a cancellation”.

X-ray - inconclusive.  Time for an MRI (my first MRI).  No metal objects in the room…. its a very powerful magnet.  Change clothes to hospital approved gowns and climb into an MRI.  

Tech - “We have mics in the room.  Talk if you need anything”.  10 minutes I realize I’m wearing a wedding band - Should I say anything?  

Me - “I’m wearing a wedding band”.  

Tech - “I saw.  You’re fine”.  

What does that mean?  I guess it means I won’t lose my finger as my wedding band flies toward the giant magnet.

Back to the waiting room to get my results.  It’s late - like 7pm (”late” really changed on the trail).  I need a place to stay tonight.  Let me talk with the receptionist.  She knew a couple of hotels (including the Biltmore - thought about staying at the Biltmore, but seemed a bit extravagant).  All were changing more than $150/night.  Not worth it.  She’s phones a friend who phones several more.  In five minutes, 7 people are in the reception area working on options.  Found a great hostel in near a brewpub and the hospital will pay for transportation (apparently they have a policy for out of town guests).

MRI results - not a stress fracture.  Its a pulled muscle.  I need to rest for 5 to 7 days.

Sitting in the hostel, it hit me.  The trail provided.  I needed 4 rides, two medical facilities, two drivers available on very short timing, a certain persons cell phone with a daughter needing medical supplies, a receptionist willing to bend rules, an overbooked MRI machine, and impeccable timing to get to the hostel.  I can’t believe so many pieces fell into place, but it happened.  

I wasn’t going to be hiking tomorrow, but the trail provided.

Pictures

NC208 and AT

[fox-household]

Act 4: Education and Moral Standards, Chapter 2

Alright, this one took even longer, I know there’s definitely a pattern here. But this sort of got delayed with personal issues, life stuff, school work and now the end of the school year is coming up, so yeah. While I’m not sure how the length of this chapter really compares to the others, but because of the fact that school is going to get harder soon and my feelings when it comes to progress, I’m going to start trying to post shorter chapters. One of the worst feelings I get is that since I haven’t posted anything for ages, I feel like I’ve made no progress at all, it really pains me sometimes and since I’ve been holding myself to some sort of standard of length, it feels daunting to write a new chapter even if the length probably isn’t as much as others do. Anyway content shouldn’t be lessened overall, just there will be a larger number of chapters. Thanks for being patient, hope it was at least 2% worth the wait if even that.  FIRST, PREVIOUS, NEXT, INFO

Asgore The ten-minute drive was completely silent for the most part, all the goat child had to do was listen to the rumblings of the engine and Alphys make a few comments as she drove in her car, which the other two secretly found quite cramped compared to what they were used to. The light green Volkswagen had probably only been bought since the small stature of the owner was the only thing considered in the thought process of the buyer. Asgore continued watching all the familiar buildings go by, day after day he had seen them, yet despite this visual familiarity, he probably only knew about under half of them and what was inside. All these buildings had history, with people who ran it with their own fascinating stories to tell, tragic backstories to tales of luck and fortune, anything was possible within his ignorance and lack of knowledge, he much preferred it that way. The truth would only leave him one conclusion, no room for imagination, where was the fun in that? ‘’So Asgore, anything we should know about the school? Any warnings that we should be aware of?’’ The child turned his gaze from the window and looked to the skeleton in the front passenger seat, leaving a small moment of thought before answering, ‘’Not really, it’s pretty normal I guess. Got a pair of buildings to split the large amount of year levels, it goes P-12. So there might be a decent few people there… otherwise just talk to the people you need to talk to and get out.’’ Asgore’s words were slow and deliberate which appeared to amuse Sci slightly judging from the way he let out an amused huff, ‘’Fair enough. I’m sure it won’t be that bad buddy, everything’s going to be ok.’’ The backseat passenger didn’t appear too convinced, ‘’Well, we’ll see shall we?’’ The car took a sharp right turn and the three of them ended up leaning in the other direction before straightening up again. ‘’Alright, how about this, we go out and do something fun later tonight, something just a little different?’’ This seemed to intrigue both Alphys and Asgore, the goat tilted his head slightly and watched the skeleton while the driver gave a small glance, ‘’Th-that does s-sound nice, d-do you have something in m-mind?’’ ‘’Yeah, like maybe we could go out tonight and get some sweets? Brighten up the mood a little bit. Would something like that please everyone? I’ll even shout for us all.’’ The other two looked at him, both with a smile, Asgore found it was him that was going to speak for the both of them. ‘’Alright Sci, I’ll hold you to that, sounds like a plan. Better not forget buddy’’ He chuckled lightly, a happy smile appearing on his face, ‘’Guess I have something to look forward to now’’. The child’s gaze returned to the window, except this time it was in higher spirits, deciding to now focus on the potential positives of this experiences, whatever they maybe. Eventually the vehicle reached their destination, turning into a carpark outside a large brick building with multiple floors, windows and even a bit of a garden around the edges. Looking from the outside the place seemed a bit unremarkable as the building didn’t really have any decorations or any sort of grand design on it’s exterior and the yard around was just paths and grass for the most part, at least on the side they were on, if it wasn’t for the size of the place there might’ve been a slight question to how much money they actually had. The trio left the car and looked up at the closest building, the silence being broken by Sci, ‘’Uh Asgore, is this…. It?’’. The goat seemed the be in happier spirits now, some of his usual energy being rejuvenated, ‘’Yes of course it is, this is the high school building, you know, 7-12?’’ He crossed his arms and shook his head slowly, ‘’Although I assume you’re talking about the lack of uh… colour and variety? Well we personally think they decided that design doesn’t matter for high schoolers, like all people only care about the facilities, if you head over to the primary building, it looks quite colourful and child friendly.’’ Asgore shrugged and with putting his hands in his jumper pockets, he started to walk towards the front entrance to the school. The other two followed behind, letting him lead the way, ‘’I-it’s uh a l-little bigger th-than I th-thought it would be… do a lot of p-people come to this school?’’ ‘’It holds a good number, a thousand maybe? I’ve never really thought about it before, but there’s enough that I don’t really know everyone, probably don’t take my word for it at all’’. The entrance held a little above ground level, access being restricted by up by stone stairs or a ramp that came from the side, above the glass-wood doors was the name of the school in a bolded, fancy font that he hadn’t ever really cared to co ’McConville Academy’ They went to the front desk at first and signed in at a record book, being greeted by a middle-aged turtle monster who asked the adults a few questions about who they were, a suspicious tone pervasive throughout, they both deemed it was fair enough that they questioned two random people that just had wandered into the school. After a few minutes and one explanation from Asgore about why they were here, they were free to go on their way. Alphys looked at a crumpled piece of paper that she’d been gripping onto, ‘’S-so it s-says here th-that, um E-English is first i-in l-like fifteen m-minutes? You know wh-where to go?’’ Asgore nodded, ‘’Yep, second floor, room 14. Honestly not to bad for a second-floor room. The teacher I suppose isn’t to bad either.’’ ‘’You like English kid?’’ Sci’s question prompted a small shrug from the prince leading them, ‘’English is fine half the time, I think I do ok. Depends on what we’re doing I suppose.’’ Being led by Asgore, the group arrived at a classroom with seats outside it as an obvious station to wait. They sat down on the chairs that were closest to the door and remained silent, thinking to themselves. Asgore looked at the other two, Sci seemed as calm as ever but Alphys on the other hand seemed more nervous than usual, the way she had her hands together twitching and tapping made him worry a little, was she going to be alright, did she realise she didn’t have to do anything except listen? The seconds waiting there turned to minutes until finally a pair of adult monsters left the classroom and they heard a yell from inside for ‘’NEXT, COME IN!’’. They obliged and ended up finding what amounted to a mostly empty classroom, all the chairs that were normally there could be found stacked up at the side of the room, the tables were nowhere to be seen, the windows showed back out to the front of the school, the entrance they came in quite visible from their elevated position. The main attraction, made obvious by being the only thing of note, was the teacher’s desk with four chairs in the front of it, the desk itself was recently cleaned and had nothing except for a small stack of paper and a nameplate that matched the large name written on the blackboard on the wall behind the desk. ‘’Mr Breve’’ Although the blackboard included underneath it ‘Music and English Teacher’. The teacher himself was sitting behind the desk, a Shyren cladded in a white t-shirt, leaning backwards on his chair and humming a slow tune to himself. As the three of them took their seats, he decided to get the opening word in, his voice having some sort of song like rhythm to it. ‘’Something seems off here… one of you may be a skeleton yet, none of you are Doctor Gaster, you are the same Asgore right? Or has there been a mix up?’’ The Shyren’s tone didn’t portray any worry or annoyance as he moved forwards so his chair and himself were properly upright, looking between the visitors. ‘’O-oh uh, n-nice to meet y-you sir, we’re umm… stepping i-in for G-Gaster, he couldn’t make it sir.’’ A sympathetic smile came across the teacher’s face as he watched the female monster fumble her words, ‘’Well that’s a shame, but no worries, I’m just as happy to meet you two. Oh and please, don’t call me sir, just call me Breve’’. Now getting up from his chair to give a handshake, both taking the handshake one after the other. ‘’A-Alphys’’ ‘’Sci’’ ‘’Oh lovely, may I also implore your relationship with this fine young man here? Why you have taken him instead of the good Doctor?’’ Sci gave a shrug, deciding to take this question for the two of them, his smile being a calm one, yet his eyes seemed to be approaching half closed, as if he was just going to fall asleep in a few minutes. ‘’Yeah I guess we’re mostly just friends, at the moment acting guardians I suppose you could say, right?’’ Concerned looks were given towards Sci by the other two as he looked over, but nothing was said quite yet about his tired expression, ‘’Uh y-yeah, we’re his g-guardians.’’ The child spoke up now, his tone rushed as his desire to get things moving along, ‘’So shall we talk about how well I do in English, we’re in here for that reason after all.’’ Mr Breve gave a relaxed sigh and smiled, ‘’Guess you don’t want to be here long huh? Well let’s begin shall we?’’ He brought his hands together and stretched his fingers, making a cracking noise. Using the next few moments of silence to his advantage, he thought about what he was going to comment on first. ‘’Well I suppose to start with negatives… the kid’s not that great at analysing things, just seems to struggle with it… disagree?’’ Realising the question was pointed at him, the goat shrugged dismissively, ‘’Yeah, I mean I guess, don’t really get it honestly, really hate trying to figure out those persuasive articles.’’ Asgore started to smile slightly, his eyes bringing a slight spark of hope, ‘’But I am improving right Mr Breve? My marks are getting better I’m sure of it’’. A kind smile approached his lips, ‘’Yes you are, I think with a little effort you’ll get there… and let me tell you guys, he doesn’t slack on the effort that’s for sure. Real hard worker this one.’’ With that the goat seemed quite happy and prideful, looking to the other two now, Alphys appeared to be happy with that at least, while Sci seemed… almost asleep? ‘’Also Asgore here is quite skilled at writing his own stuff, like stories or even argumentative pieces sometimes. Also, surprisingly, this trooper here is quite the poet, he has a way with words that help portray emotions and sometimes even make you feel things, probably one of the only ones in my class that doesn’t mind when poetry comes up. Even with those argumentative pieces, while he maybe weaker when it comes to using logic, reason and some of the more nitty gritty stuff, he makes fine work when it comes to making you care, making you actually want to agree with him through feeling. All in all, for what he lacks in some areas, I believe he well makes up for in others… anything you would like to add Asgore or even anything you two would like to ask? Man, the compliment part is so much more fun the other stuff. ’’ Asgore beamed at his teacher, ‘’No sir, I’m good.’’ The lizard monster shook her head, giving a smile, ‘’N-no I th-think that’s g-good to h-hear. Thanks s-so much f-for seeing u-us’’. ‘’No thank you for coming in, always appreciated. Also here, catch, can’t leave without the complimentary treat.’’ Mr Breve pulled out two things out of his desk, one being a small chocolate in a blue and silver wrapper which he chucked to Asgore, another being a bouncy ball which he started to throw up in the air once he was leaning back in his chair. ‘’Oh, by the way, I don’t know if you guys knew but Asgore doesn’t actually have to be present for these interviews, you could’ve just left him home, you guys seem pretty chill, so I’ll let you onto a little secret. Bringing the student always makes things just a little more awkward, or at least to me it does.’’ Asgore and Alphys had already got out of their chairs by this point, both looking surprised, the prince a little more than the other. ‘’Wh-what? But I thought it was mandatory, isn’t that why I’ve always had to come?’’ The monster let out a chuckle, ‘’Nah my dude, it was Gaster who was making you come. A real scary time usually, like you guys are cool because you’re chill. But he’s always so serious and down to business, can tell he’s calculating every negative I feed him… the guy could just learn to calm down you know, or at least put on a smile? Maybe he needs a soothing song once in a while… but you didn’t hear this from me alright?’’ Asgore giggled and let out a very amused expression, ‘’Your secret is safe with me Mr Breve, trust me’’ ‘’Also uh, can you make sure you guys take your friend with you ok?’’ The two suddenly became aware of a snoring noise coming from the room and they both could only give puzzled and concerned looks towards their now fully asleep companion, his bones rattling slightly with each breath. ‘’Hey Sci, is something the matter?’’, Asgore closed the door behind him after letting another family into the classroom, now they stood in an empty school hallway. Sci mumbled something inaudible before speaking, he had the type of tone that someone would make when they were trying to brush off a situation, ‘’Yeah I’m fine sorry, j-just not feeling great, maybe I’m getting sick? Would you mind if you let me freshen up or something in the bathroom?’’ ‘’Y-you s-sure you’re going t-to be ok? Th-this doesn’t s-seem r-really n-normal… a-also do y-you need Asgore t-to show y-you where to go?’’ Alphys watched him, no one could tell what doom bringing possibilities she was going over in her head. ‘’Nah I’m fine, don’t worry, I um think we passed one on the way here?’’ The skeleton in a manner that made it seem like he was in a rush, started backing away from them. ‘’R-really… I g-guess I didn’t n-notice it, w-well you stay safe I suppose’’. ‘’Make sure to give us a call if you need anything alright, don’t want you to be our school’s first injury from falling asleep.’’ With a surprisingly hearty chuckle, Sci gave a thumbs up and walked out of view. The remaining two looked at each other. ‘’Hey uh Al, you think he’s actually alright?’’ Alphys stopped her a moment and thought for a second before answering, giving a faint smile and the goat a slight ruffle of his hair, ‘’I hope so, b-but wh-whatever happens, w-we’ll m-make sure to w-work it out.’’ She gave a small sigh and a bigger smile towards Asgore, ‘’Y-you can g-go you know? Do wh-whatever you w-want, wander a-around, I’ll t-take care of th-this ok?’’ The boy crossed his arms with a suspicious gaze, ‘’Are you sure? I mean you’re going to be all by yourself and you don’t know this school… sounds like you could use a guide’’. ‘’N-no, no, d-don’t you worry about m-me, I’ll uh f-figure it o-out, I-I j-just don’t want t-to drag you a-around. Plus i-if all y-your teachers are like h-him, than things sh-should be fine.’’ ‘’Well at least head to the front office and ask for a map, take a picture with your phone or something, that way you’ll know where to go…’’, Asgore grinned and grabbed Alphys in a hug, ‘’…thanks Al, you’re the best, you’ll go great… just uh watch out for the art teach alright? She’s a little full on.’’ The scientist was smiling just a moment ago, giving a tight squeeze, before worry went over her face. ‘’U-uh full on in umm wh-what way?’’ The response she got from that question wasn’t exactly what she was hoping for, a chuckle and an ominous ‘’Oh you’ll see.’’ 

[haulalleuad]

Freya was sitting in the garden, scribbling words in her notebook for a while now. Not only did she manage to reach Valhalla before visiting hours started, her phone died right after she stepped foot on the territory. Stranded in the garden of a nursing home, Freya felt almost at peace.

The building wasn’t as scary in person. It was a fortress hiding its warriors from the real world. It is a pain to get to, which is probably the intention. In a week, Freya took a plane and a train for the first time. The motel was a first too.

Someone quickly ran up six-step stairs and opened massive wooden doors. Must have been a worker. For some reason, a sudden mix of jealousy and loneliness stung Freya in the heart. She’ll wait, of course. She probably needs to make it known that she spoke with the Valhalla owner. Valhalla’s director?

Another hour or so passed with no movement around. The world froze maybe just in this part of New York State or maybe everywhere. Trying to make everything work again, Freya recited her father’s morning routine in her mind. She didn’t mean to sit with her eyes closed, so when someone approached the bench, she got startled back into reality.

‘’Are you waiting for someone?’’

‘’Oh, yes. Hello,’’ Out of growing imposter syndrome, she felt the urge to be as polite as possible.

It turned out; the receptionist was watching Freya long enough to feel bad, at least. The name tag said “Maggie” and she looked like one. It felt good to see another human being again.

There was a half an hour before visiting hours, but Freya was invited in, while Maggie called Wheeler. Only a few people came here to claim family connections to the Andersons. From the first impression, Freya did not seem like a scammer or a crazy fan.

And to prove the former, she brought evidence. Mostly copies, in case Tor or Barry wanted to keep them. Freya even got that old picture restored. She did hope Tor might want to keep this one.

A longing for connection, for heritage, whatever it might be called, fought with skepticism that has been trying to save Freya from disappointment. It was the most conflicted she had ever been.

Freya looked around, feeling safer. Valhalla from the inside for sure didn’t look like the usual depiction of a nursing home. No white or pastel walls, no green of the scrubs. If it was haunted, it would certainly be a bunch of trickiest ghosts. The ones that would play into every spooky stereotype only to flip you off instead of murdering you.

Not having a glimpse of desire to sit every again, she looked at the pictures on the walls, with a small bit of Valhalla’s story splattered around. Mostly Norse mythology. Valhalla had hope and potential.

‘’So, which one?’’ Maggie was typing a text message.

‘’Tor, apparently,’’ Freya looks at the picture of Anderson Brothers standing next to Wheeler and Maggie. They all looked happy, but old men looked slightly pissed to be just standing there.

‘’You can go see the inner yard, if you want’’ It seemed, like at first Maggie wanted to say something else.

The yard looked almost the same as the garden, but with a weird amount of lanterns. Freya might have not noticed them in the garden. Six in total, for a one-person swing, four benches and one little bridge. There also was an empty place with a foundation of something. Maybe, a bird bath.

Valhalla was surrounded by a forest-like area with a fence around it. For sure, as the facility grows, something else would be done here. From afar, Freya saw street lights peeking from the trees.

Looking around, Freya walked on the edge of the path and accidently stepped on the grass. Only it wasn’t the grass. In a pile of leaves was hidden a round light. If it wasn’t for Maggie coming, Freya would look closer. She also would have noticed someone watching her from the window on the second floor.

‘’I will be honest with you.’’

That is a concerning sentence.

‘’They have wandered off.’’

Freya had no words. This was the last thing she could have expected.

‘’Aren’t they extremely old?’’

Maggie shifted the weight on a different leg and nodded.

‘’They love this small diner down the road. Mister Wheeler is taking a drive to get them.’’

Freya didn’t know how to proceed. Stay? What will she do here? And what will she do, if she leaves?

‘’Do you want some tea?”

Relief washed over her for a moment. Stranger being nice should feed the Skepticism Monster, but Maggie seemed good-natured, mostly. She also seemed completely used to whatever Anderson antics might happen. Maggie knew Freya’s grandfather better than she did. Better than she ever will, maybe.

They had a nice cup of tea, while Freya’s phone charged. She found out that Barry and Maggie are actually together. Before they were a great team and a bit after it developed into something more. Freya never met Barry outside of emails, but she found the whole story very sweet. Caring people coming together.

Time climbed faster with the conversation. Maggie started growing agitated. Her phone didn’t make a peep for over two hours. Freya noticed it too and blurted out, when the silence came back:

“Call him, maybe?”

That didn’t help the worry Freya felt, hearing faint beeps of unanswered calls. Anxiety in the room was intoxicating. Feeling like running, Freya still wanted to help. Even though she was still a foreigner here. But not adding reasons to worry was a help too.

“I can come back tomorrow, don’t worry,’’ she said. The only thing she asked of Maggie is to leave some pictures and a note at her desk. Also a phone number, just in case.

Freya left the Valhalla nursing home quite hopeful. It didn’t feel like she had a right to judge where and how the Andersons were living. The only elders in the family seemed to be well taken care of and that’s what matters.

She called home on the way to the motel. Her dad seemed to be happy to hear from her so soon. He admitted that he got curious too. That was an interesting development. Maybe next time it could be a full family visit.

In the silence of a small bedroom, Freya killed time by browsing the Internet. It seemed like nothing was happening, but soon she ended up on the Bright Falls forums again. She felt slightly greedy, because of being a silent watcher here. But on the other hand, she didn’t want anything to be tainted by conspiracies. Valhalla is doing a good thing. No need to interrupt.

The dawn came suddenly and Freya debated sleeping. The day itself wasn’t that eventful to turn off, but did it need more events? She stared into the ceiling, thinking. Saving money sounded more logical than looking for a pub or 24-hour diner. More grown-up way of managing the trip.

After all, there was a pizza place right down the road.

In the anticipation, Freya hadn’t had any food except run-shaped cookies at the Valhalla. The idea was to serve them at the grand-opening, but the residents liked them, so Maggie kept stash.

Freya thought about food. Thought again and looked at the time. It was dark already, but the streets won’t be deserted. Be a big girl, Freya thought. Go get some pizza!

Maybe, she hyped herself a tiny bit much. The pizza was small and very busy. The smell was great, though. A large pepperoni will last at least for a 24 hours from now. It felt good to be independent, especially when there is some money to spend. Money is an even greater thing when you grow up. A lot of the time.

After about 40 minutes of waiting, Freya finally headed back. Large soda, large pizza, what is it, if not living large? She smiled at the stupid thought, noticing all the cats whooshing by the opposite direction. The illuminated streets on the warm autumn evening felt somehow new and exciting. An adventure!

On the corner of her eye, Freya noticed how a street light died right after she passed it. Totally normal, there must be some kind of a motion sensor. But Freya still thought about calling her dad to talk while she walks the last 50-something yards.

When she took a deep breath and exhaled, she saw a small cloud of steam. There were no more cars around, only trees, some houses and street lights. But further Freya got the less light she saw. She could almost feel the darkness growing physically.

‘’Vivid imagination my ass,’’ Freya cursed, walking faster. She finally could see the motel.

Anxious, Freya sped through the front desk without looking to see that it was empty. When she passed it, the desk lamp turned off with a click. Stairs seemed longer, but ended soon enough to feel a small amount of relief. Freya didn’t want to admit it, but she felt like she wasn’t alone.

Opening the door when she did it first, but now it took longer. Freya could almost see the corridor twisting and turning, like the soundness of her mind was failing to comprehend the reality. Nothing happened. There was no reason to be mad about it. The first time on your own is scary.

The door opened. Darkness swallowed the rushing girl. She bolted the door, checked by jerking the handle. She reached for the light switch, turned the light on and signed in relief.

“You will do,’’ Someone said and Freya turned around.

Everything went dark again.

[rainy-rose]

So I did a thing!

Disclaimer, trigger warning etc:

I haven’t written anything longer than 1k words in years and even then they were in Romanian because it is the language I am the most comfortable with. The following short story has almost 4k and it was initially written for one of my classes, but I decided to post it here as well. That being said, if anybody reads it and has any kind of constructive criticism to offer, please write it as it is both needed and wanted!

TW: mental health - possible depression, character death, self harm

Fragile

     The morning light made its way through the window, slowly bringing the old furniture in the small room back to shape. The drapes were slowly moving due to the light breeze. On the dark wood table a half empty bottle stood next to a glass, a bit of amber liquid still left on its bottom. The birds were chirping happily in the trees in the garden, their songs invading the room and inevitably waking up the sleeping, curled up figure on the couch. The man’s eyebrows were slowly forming an annoyed frown as his mind was leaving the land of dreams behind. With a groan he turned around, hoping to block both the birds and the light. Somehow he had forgotten to close the window and the drapes last night and was just now being painfully reminded of his mistake.

       His arm moved under his head, a makeshift pillow. A futile effort as soon he would have to embrace consciousness. He tried moving again, wanting to run from the real world. He was happy in his dreams, only there. His stiff back protested, another groan escaping the man’s lips. But alas, he was stubborn, refusing to open up his eyes, although the rest of his body was already awake and ready to face the day. His eyelids were shut tight wishing for sleep to come back and drive away the beginning of what was sure to be a pounding headache.

          A child’s cry of joy came from outside. His neighbors, the other occupants of the one story building,  whose company he rarely sought, must have left their toddlers outside already so they could get fresh air and ran after the stray dogs and cats that always seemed to find their way in the garden. Together with the noise made by the children, a restless one that he knew way too well. In the small barn his horse was wide awake, hungry and grumpy. The two sounds made him realize that he had spent way too much time on the uncomfortable couch. The outside world needed him, especially today since he had places to go and people to see. More like a person, Liam, the young lad eagerly waiting for his bimonthly visits in his small room in the mental asylum located on the road, just about a half an hour from the city. Hmm, maybe he could visit the blacksmith after that as well. He groaned again shutting his eyes tighter. Now was not the time to think about Cedric, or his baby, or the fond way his beautiful blue eyes had followed him across the room the previous evening. No, definitely not the right moment.

          With a final displeased sound, followed by a heavy sigh he rose from his accidental bed. Sleeping on the couch was not something he was doing deliberately, but sometimes, when the world was to overwhelming and his mind was running, he would end up there, usually after drinking a few glasses of brandy, which was exactly the case this time.

          The water in the pitcher by the window chased away the final remnant of sleep from his face and changing his wrinkled clothes with a set of fresh ones from the dresser made him feel more human. Unfortunately nothing could be done for his headache, he would have to endure it, but luckily he was used to them by now.

          The next half an hour was spent taking care of the horse’s daily needs, eating and packing his bag. Conrad was no horse show champion, he had brown-reddish hair that ended in white socks bellow his knees. Hector had bought him as a calf five years prior when it became apparent that walking everywhere was no longer a viable option. He had never been interested in riding a bike and automobiles were too expensive for the little money he made as a librarian and since he had not published any of his poetry books at the time, Conrad was the best option.

          Riding always had a pleasant effect on him, taking his mind of things. It was just him, the almost clear road, the strong animal whose every breath he could almost feel and the wind running through his curly hair and making his soft dark brown coat fly behind him. At a crossroad he had to correct Conrad’s course with a strong pull at his rains. The animal was still used to going towards the blacksmith’s workshop as Hector used to visit the man on a weekly basis. Almost a year ago the man was the sole reader of his poems, but that was before, before he got stuck in a loveless marriage.

        “Duty be damned!” The rider cursed pulling again at the rains, using a lot more force than necessary and making the horse go faster.

         His mind was spinning again. Memories drifted in and out, memories of strong arms holding him close, intimacy and a gruff voice whispering dreams that could never be fulfilled. He cherished them, held them close to his heart despite the pain, anger and crushing sadness that came with them.

           “Damn it all to Hell!” he cursed under his breath repeatedly, his now white knuckles holding the reins tight.

           He leaned forward, wishing, hoping that he could become one with the animal beneath him, that his small frame will somehow dissolve until he was no more. Until just Conrad remained, a free horse running without a break, forgetting the ways of the man and what he had been taught. Unfortunately, like all his dreams and wishes, like all their shared memories, his and Cedric’s and even Liam’s, they were destined to be crushed by the strong punch of reality. The world was cruel towards people like them and they were forced to fight with it Their fight was not easy. The weak rarely survived, but the strong? They were condemned to a future filled with lies, deceit, pretend and unhappiness. In this case weren’t the weak more fortunate, embracing death? Choosing release instead of the constant torture of this monstrous world that saw them as shameful, as sinners, as sick individuals that should not be allowed to live. Creatures that were less than human, condemned and confined, if they were lucky, in asylums? Sharing the same space with other people whose minds refused to help them?

             Hector hated having this kinds of thoughts, especially before visiting Liam. But he could not control them. They were constant, coming and going the same why the fingers of his left hand always found their way to the improperly scarred tissue on his right wrist. He had caught himself doing this numerous times, sometimes stopping just before the blood started dripping, turning the ends of his white shirts scarlet. He started doing this now, holding the reins with his right hand and slowing the horse’s pace. He could see the building now. In less than fifteen minutes he would see Liam again. Just two years his junior, the boys towered over him and was hyper and curious the same way small pups are, and just as loving, eagerly offering bone crushing embraces. He missed him, missed his questions and his soft, almost shy voice and the carefulness with which he picked his words. Seeing him twice a month was not enough and again, probably for the twelfth hundredth time, he wondered if there was any way to get him out of there. He was not family, but since he was the only person who had been paying for the boy’s care for the past three years since he had been admitted in the facility, maybe, possibly, probably they would be more lenient. If only he could present his case right. If only he could get him out of there he would be closer to realizing his dream. But alas, he knew that was not possible. The same way he know that he was partly guilty for the boy’s current situation.

           He had met Liam almost three and a half years ago while courting his older sister Grace. Hector was not in any way attracted to the woman, yet she seemed nice and kind. Maybe enough so he could fool himself into trying for the pretend game of the strong. It did not happen. While spending time with Grace he would occasionally spend time with Liam and he soon realized that he was not visiting their household to see the woman, but to see the boy. He was the one more than happy to see him. Desperate to share all the new and interesting things he learned in school. Eager for the older man approval and attention and clearly, at least from Hector’s point of view, clearly infatuated. Liam was a ray of sunshine, stubbornly poking his way through the dark, grey, heavy clouds that were a permanent fix on Hector’s sky. He found himself drawn to the boy, smiling at his antics which felt so strange. He had not smiled in years! But he did that, Liam did that and the librarian was grateful. But how did he show his gratitude? How did he repay him for the joy he was bringing to the surface? By ruining his life!

           Hector bit his lip hard, remembering how he had destroyed everything. How foolish he had been, how stupid! His eyes were prickling with tears he refused to shed. It was a mistake! A mistake! A mistake! He repeated as a mantra trying to convince himself that it was not his fault. But it was and he knew it. He was the one who initiated that kiss. It was a chaste and innocent kiss, a mere brush of their lips. It was a simple gesture of affection for them. But for Grace who has discovered them on a hidden stone bench in her family’s yard, it was betrayal. It was sin, sickness and corruption and Hector was at fault. He was sent away all ties cut off and the courtship interrupted.  Liam was sent to the asylum to get treatment. Or so they said. Hector had found him again by chance, a rumor heard from a work colleague. But the reunion crushed his heart and made him hate the world, their society even more. Grace and the rest of the family had just left Liam there, abandoned, scared and confused. Hector did not know if the so called doctors and nurses were treating him or not, but whatever they were doing did not help him. Liam’s mind, once healthy, beautiful and bright was slowly deteriorating, and so was his speech. Guild made him tremble with fear and anger. How could they do this? What gave them the right to turn this beautiful innocent and artistic boy into a shell, a shadow of what he had once been?  They were monsters! All of them! Grace and her family and the so called doctors. Without thinking he took out the envelope that contained the salary he had just received and placed it on one of the doctor’s desk offering to pay for Liam’s care. That night he had drank himself to sleep, but not before breaking a few glasses by throwing them against the wall and making the first shallow cut on his wrist. The wound was small and did not bled for long, but it was just the beginning. Many followed, all too shallow to cause any serious damage. In the months that followed, the money earned him visiting rights, two times a month, on Saturdays for a few hours. The so called treatment was not helping him. Whatever they were doing to Liam his situation was getting worse and Hector’s money was no more than a bribe. But he had to keep doing this, he would not abandon him, not like him family did. He would be there for him even if that meant watching as his former somewhat lover, for whom he felt bond as to a brother now, was withering away both mind and soul.

            The trip down memory lane did not do him good. It never did! He stopped under a tree in the asylum’s yard, scratching at his wrists. Small drops of blood found their way onto his shirt but he ignored them, pulling his coat’s sleeves to cover everything. He dragged his hand through his wild curls several times in an attempt to calm down him nerves. He did the same to his face in order to make himself look less tired and hangover. After he was done he left Conrad in the care of a stable boy and made his way towards the building, towards the front desk and soon, towards Liam.

             “Good day, miss! My name is Hector Kook and I am here to see Liam Dunn” he addressed the nurse that was managing the reception.

             He usually did not have to give his name as he was one of the facility’s rare visitors. However, the woman seemed new, it was his first time seeing her. She looked at him for a few seconds, probably assessing and judging his exhausted look. She flipped through the register and scribbled down his name, but when she was about to write the purpose of his visit she lifted her head abruptly, her big eyes questioning and uncertain. “Could you tell me again the name of the patient you are seeking, sir?” Her voice was betraying her, it was lacking the calm, polite indifference with which the other nurses were treating him whenever he came. Hector swallowed, dread reaching her long, sharp claws towards him, his headache intensifying.

              “Liam Dunn,” he repeated, as clear as possible. His fingers found his wrist again, scratching, leaving small red marks on his flesh. Something happened, something surely had happened! The nurse offered him a small, sad smile. Pity? Sorrow? No! He must have been mistaken, his mind was tired and foggy, he was seeing things. Everything was fine and soon a male nurse in a white coat would lead him towards Liam’s room and the boy will hug him, laugh and play with his hair while making small indistinguishable noises. He had to calm down, no need to panic. He forced his hand down taking small breaths. “I am so sorry, sir! Could you please wait here a bit while I get his doctor? It is better to hear this from him than from me.” She gestured towards one of the uncomfortable, wooden chair and disappeared along a corridor before Hector could ask any questions.

           What? Hear what? He was almost trembling now. Why was she getting the doctor now? That happened at the end. What could she not tell him? He swallowed and bit his lip, feeling the taste of blood on his tongue. No, no, no, no, no! He had to remain calm! Not think of the worst scenarios! Those did not exist! This was just a change of procedure! He was pacing now, scratching at both of his wrists. Liam was okay. He had, needed to convince himself that. He was okay and healthy, as healthy as he could be in that forsaken place!

             “Mr. Kook?”

             Hector head snapped towards the voice, his hands falling at his side, his breath heavy as if he had ran a race and climbed a mountain. The doctor, Andrew Colby, a fifty something, man, short, but still slightly taller than he was, and usually sporting and easy smile was beckoning him to come closer. The smile was gone, his expression serious, somber. Behind him the nurse was biting her thumb, her eyes watery.

           No!

           Hector approached the man, with heavy legs, barely aware that he was moving them. Colby touched his shoulder. It was meant to be comforting, fatherly, his tone steady and apologetic towards the man half his age. “Mr. Dunn died this morning, sir. In his sleep, natural causes from the looks of it.”

           What?!

           He flinched, putting distance between himself and the asylum’s personnel. His throat was dry, his hazel eyes ablaze with barely contained fury . Died in his sleep? Natural causes? Who were they talking too? He was not a child, he might have been twenty six but he was not fool, not their fool. “How dare you?” he growled curling his fingers inside his fists, his nails hurting his palms. “Natural causes on a case of confirmed homosexuality? Who do you think you are taking to! That pathetic story would work with his sister bur not with me!” He was almost screaming now, clenching and unclenching his fists. Tears were streaming down his face, he did not notice them and made no effort to stop them. He wanted to punch him, beat him up, make him regret everything he had done. “He was just a child you devil and you… you killed him! All of you!”

              The nurse let out a yelp and covered her mouth with her hands. He was frightening her, he was making a scene and attracting attention. But he did not care! He was hurt, his heart was being constantly stabbed. His brother was dead, murdered at their hands because he was different, because he loved the wrong person. How could that bastard look himself in the mirror in the morning and not hate himself? How could he still offer pleasant smiles knowing that he was killing a boy, probably not the only one, and bribing another dry? He was shivering, he felt sick, his head was hurting harder than ever so he turned away and ran. Colby shouted after him, but he could not, did not want to hear. Liam was dead. One if the few precious people in his life, the few he felt connected to, his little ray of sunshine was gone.

              The next few minutes were a blur, he did not remember entering the stables, getting Conrad and running towards the city. But he must have since now they were galloping, the wing whipping his hair and face, his tears still falling. They stopped shortly after that, Hector almost falling of the horse’s back in his haste to reach a tree and hide behind it. He bend over ad threw out the little food he had eaten earlier that day. With trembling hand he took a handkerchief from his pocket and whipped his mouth, face and coat. The tears did not stop. He waited but they kept on falling. He could not do this. He kept seeing Liam’s face in his mind, serene and happy. The pain was unbearable and he wanted to scream. Slowly he made his way a bit deeper into the forest beside the road, fell on his kneed and let out a howl, he cursed, and cursed and screamed and punched the ground until his hands were red, raw and bleeding. His shouts were not the same, Liam’s name turned into Cedric’s and back again, mixed with long shrieks and long streams of profanities addressed to no one and everyone. He kept at it until his voice became weak, until Conrad found him and nudged gently at the back of his neck, then at his cheek. He would have stayed there for hours but an idea started forming in his head. It was stupid and realistically it made no sense, but he wanted to do it, at least part of it. He need to see the blacksmith!

              His legs were still shaking when he got back on the horse. He tied the handkerchief around his bleeding wrist and started galloping towards the city. He did not correct Conrad when they reached the crossroad, on the contrary, he wanted him to hurry!

             The workshop was at the end of a street, a small yard with soft grass in front of it. Conrad stopped at his well-known place near a wooden bench and waited for his master to climb down before he started grazing at the thick, fat grass.

             Hector ran inside the shop, startling the three apprentices. They stared at him, at his now dirty clothes, tear streaked face and red eyes. It was the first time they saw him like this and they were more than confused at his appearance.

             “Were is he?” he asked his voice hoarse, but determined.

             One of the boys let his hammer down and pointed a gloved hand towards a door in the back, Cedric’s makeshift office. Nodding his head towards the apprentice, Hector made his way between anvils and forges almost barging through the door. He closed the door behind him and threw himself at the man, not caring if he was making a mess of the work space.

            “Hector what happened? What are you doing?” he asked with panic and worry in his voice. They had established long ago that their feeling for each other had to be kept a secret, that Cedric had a duty, Cecily needed him and now so did his child.

             Even so, he could not ignore the trembling man in his arms, not when he was clinging to him for dear life wretched sobs and gasps escaping his mouth and chest. “Hector?” he asked again, concerned, his arms finding their way around him in a familiar embrace. One of his rough hands gently caressed his back while the other did the same with his hair in an attempt to calm the smaller man. Hector was not like this, he was a fighter, stubborn as a mule and whatever got him in such a state was scaring him. “Talk to me, please?” he tried again, his voice as gentle as his caress. He moved slowly, sitting down on the chair behind him and cradling the other man in his lap like a child that needed protection. He kissed his forehead tenderly, then his hair, and started wiping his tears, while still combing his fingers through rebel dark brown curls.

            A mumble reached his ears, Hector’s voice to broken for him to understand. He kissed his forehead again, prompting him to repeat.

             “He is dead!” Hector gasped between sobs. “Liam’s dead, they killed him! I do not know how, but they did!”

             The blacksmith’s features hardened, his blue eyes flashing in anger. He had never met Liam, but knew how much Hector cared for the man, knew his story, where he was and the librarian’s fears. He held him closer, not trusting himself to speak, burring his face in his former lover’s hair. He heard him mumbling again, but he did not ask him to repeat. He did not need to. Hector’s wish, what he wanted since a long time ago was loud and clear. He wanted to leave, to run away and start somewhere where nobody knew him and he wanted Cedric to come along. But could he?

[shimmershae]

Counting Stars, Chapter 1 (a Walking Dead story, Caryl + Sophia, more).

The story continues. 

 The real story starts with a little girl lost in the woods.

 My response to the Nine Lives "Find Your G-Spot" June challenge.  Think The Princess Bride meets The Walking Dead.  Sort of, lol.  AU with appearances by multiple characters.  Rating subject to change. 

   Author's Notes:

The story continues. 

Counting Stars

 xx1xx

  He settles for some coffee, fixes himself a mug and takes it to the front porch, the wide, worn planks warm beneath his bare feet.  Eyeing the wilting plants on the top step in their clay pots, he shakes his head.  He’d told Mrs. McLeod they weren’t a good idea, not a practical one, at least, with him being gone so much on various jobs, but the arthritic old widow just wouldn’t be swayed, and now he’s stuck, performing life-saving measures on the pitiful petals every few weeks to avoid hurting her feelings.  He adds Miracle-Gro to his ever growing, ever-evolving mental list and drains the last dregs of caffeine, scratching idly at his chest as he takes in the still-slumbering neighborhood. 

  <3<3<3

                                                                        “I know a Mrs. McLeod!” 

 “Don’t say.” 

 <3<3<3

   The mailbox catches his attention again, and he leaves his mug on the porch railing, heads down the steps. 

 Weeds poke up through the stones that make up the walkway, stubborn and proud.  A bird, round and cheerful, flits from stone to stone ahead of him before finally deciding to take flight, darting to a low-hanging branch nearby and watching him curiously. 

 He grunts out a laugh.  Something so small shouldn’t act so suspicious, but he supposes it’s no surprise.  He’s been gone a long time, almost a month this time.  Spring was just a faint scent in the air and the days were just beginning to warm last time he traveled this same pathway.  Surely, he’s a stranger to his feathered friend, and that’s not all, it seems. 

 The house across the street, vacant since the Fords’ last, more permanent split, shows signs of new life.  The overgrown flower garden that Rosita never seemed to find time for is a vibrant rainbow of color, not tamed exactly, but obviously cared for and appreciated.  The shutters wear a fresh coat of paint, and a child’s bicycle rests on its side in the tidy yard. 

 He wonders at this new development as he gathers the various flyers and envelopes into his arms from the mailbox, bends to retrieve the rest.  The mirroring clay pots resting on the top step, though, tell him he won’t have to wonder long, and so, he takes his mail and goes back inside.  He’s got that list to work on, after all. 

  <3<3<3

 “That’s it?” 

 “Don’t have to sound so unimpressed.” 

 “Where’s the princess?” 

 “Y’ain’t payin’ attention.” 

 “Am, too.” 

 “Patience, Baby Girl.” 

 “M’not a baby.” 

 “You gonna fuss all night or listen to the story?” 

 “Fine.” 

 “Where were we?” 

 “You was skipping to the good part.” 

 “Not so fast.  Still some story to tell ‘fore then.  Don’t make that face.” 

 “What face?” 

 “That one.  Look like somebody else I know.” 

 “Who?” 

 “Never you mind ‘bout that. Think you’ll like this part, princess or not.” 

 “Fine.” 

 “That it?  I’m a good mind to save my breath.  Tell this story to somebody more appreciative-like.” 

 “M’sorry.” 

 “What’s that?” 

 “Don’t stop.  Please.” 

 “Since you askin’ so nicely.” 

                                                                                                      <3<3<3

                                                                                                      The ride into town isn’t far, and it doesn’t take him long to stock up on groceries and all the other necessities because he’s a man of simple tastes.  Before he knows it, he has everything on his list taken care of but for one thing, one very important thing. 

                                                                                                     The gateway to the Greene farm stands open when he rounds that final bend in the road, Otis’s truck nearby. 

 He nods at the man himself, drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he lets his vehicle idle and the friendly farm hand approach. 

 “Good to see you made it back.” 

 “You thinkin’ I wouldn’t?” 

 Otis draws his hat down from his head, fumbles his fingers through his graying goatee.  His face breaks into an amiable smile as soon as he realizes he’s being teased, in George’s deadpan way, and he replaces his hat, the sun already high and beaming overhead and the Georgia heat making sweat bead on his brow.  Noticing the bags in the floor of the truck, he doesn’t waste any more time, directing him onward.  “She’s up at the main house with the girls.  Doc Greene thought she’d benefit from the company.  She’s missed you something awful.” 

 “Missed her,” he admits. 

 Otis doesn’t make a big deal out of the confession.  He just nods and slaps his palm against the truck’s sun-warmed door.  “Best be gettin’ on then.  Might take you awhile to convince that young-un to part with her.” 

 “Thanks.” 

  <3<3<3

 “Does George have a little girl?  Is it Princess Sophia?”

 “Got a one-track mind, Baby Girl.” 

 “No, I don’t.” 

 “Do, too.” 

 “Do not.  I didn’t even ask…” 

 “Didn’t ask what?”

 “Nothin’.” 

 “Ain’t nothin’.  Know you.  Don’t give me those eyes.  Might as well spit it out.”

 “Is George’s Doc Greene our Doc Greene?” 

 “Didn’t know he was ours, but maybe.  Just gonna have to listen and find out for yourself.” 

 “Well…” 

 “Well, what?” 

 “I’m waitin’.” 

  <3<3<3

  The little one cries when he drives up, fat tears welling in those too-big eyes of hers and her shiny blond ponytail shaking as she hurries inside.  Ms. Annette just shakes her head at him and smiles because it doesn’t take two seconds after he’s opened that creaky-old door before he’s got his arms and his lap full. 

 “That dog knows the sound of your truck.” 

 “Everybody in King County knows the sound of his truck, Annette.” 

 He ducks his head, dodges the most exuberant of the canine’s slobbering kisses, but he can’t miss them all and he soon gives up trying.  “Thanks for lookin’ after her.” 

 “You know our Bethie’s always been partial to her, has been since the beginning.  It wasn’t no imposition, Son.  You know that.  Fact of the matter is, there’s been a time or two while you’ve been gone that I’ve experienced some regrets.” 

 He doesn’t press the man for more because he doesn’t have to.  He knows exactly what he’s referring to.  He rears his head back to look into a pair of intelligent brown eyes, and he’s sent back to that very first moment, when she was nothing more than a tiny, shivering wet ball of black and white fur abandoned in a road-side ditch.  One small whimper toward him and pink swipe of her timid tongue, and he hadn’t the heart to leave her behind as others already had.  He’d wrapped her up in his flannel over-shirt and turned the heat on high blast, making the old truck sputter and groan all the way to the veterinarian’s country-side practice.  The little one had been there that day, and she’d fallen in love, straight away.  Fate and Doc Greene, though, had had other plans, and it wasn’t even a week later that he was puppy-proofing his whole house.  That little bit of fluff had made coming home worth it ever since.  Still, sometimes he wonders if he’s doing right by her, leaving her so often and for so long.  Ms. Annette kindly intervenes before he can voice those thoughts. 

 “Seems to me Tsu made her own choice a long time ago.” 

 Her husband echoes his agreement with a grin.  “Reckon you’re right.  She’s been missing you.” 

 “I heard.”  If he sounds a little happy about that fact, well.  He missed her, too.  Giving the dog’s ears a playful tug, he smirks when she barks at him.  He looks down when he feels a soft touch on his arm.  It’s the older girl, tomboyish and independent where the little one is soft, and she looks up at him with eyes as green as gems. 

 “Stay for a little bit.  Please.  Just long enough for Bethie to see that Tsu’s happy.” 

 “I’d like to, but I got groceries needin’ to be put in the fridge.” 

 Ms. Annette comes to her stepdaughter’s aid, closing her hands over the girl’s sturdy shoulders and giving them a fond squeeze.  “I can put those in our fridge for you, just for a little bit, and you can join us for a bite of lunch.” 

 “When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal, Son?” 

 His stomach growls before he can formulate a response.  It really has been a while.  Gruffly, he agrees, “Alright.  Sure you don’t mind?” 

 “Mind?  You know you two are always welcome.” 

  <3<3<3

  “It is our Doc Greene!” 

 “What makes you so sure ‘bout that?” 

 “Because he’s nice.” 

 “That all you’re basin’ your assumption on?” 

 “What’s ‘ssumption mean?” 

 “Don’t worry ‘bout that.  How else you know it’s the same Doc Greene?”  

 “He has a Bethie, too.  But she’s not little.” 

 “Maybe she’s not little anymore.” 

 “Maybe he’s not our Doc Greene.” 

 “Confusin’ you?” 

 “No.” 

 “Sure?” 

 “Maybe a little bit.” 

 “You sleepy yet?” 

 “No.”

 “Could swallow whole watermelons with that yawn.” 

 “M’not yawnin’.” 

 “Sure ‘bout that, Baby Girl?” 

 “Don’t stop the story.  George still hasn’t seen his presents or met the princess yet.” 

 “You callin’ my story borin’?  Done told you…” 

 “Pretty please with a cherry on top?” 

 “And chocolate sauce?” 

 “Lots.” 

 “Alright.  Don’t want you bein’ disappointed though.  Presents ain’t always what you think they are.” 

 “Huh?” 

 “Just listen and let me tell my story.”

 “’kay.” 

 “Sure you ain’t sleepy?” 

 “Real sure.” 

 “Real real sure?” 

 “Real real real.” 

 “Alright.” 

 “Finally.”

  <3<3<3

   He forgets about the mail until he’s back home, groceries packed away and Tsu lazing around on the couch like she never left it, tuckered out from a sun-drenched afternoon filled with games of tag on the Greene farm.  He sits at the table and sorts it into piles, and sure enough, most of it’s junk.  Some of it’s not, though, and he takes care of the bills first.  He hesitates over the envelope from West Georgia Correctional Facility, but in the end, he chooses to let it wait.  It’s been a long first day back already, and he’s not sure he’s physically or emotionally ready to deal with picking out the truth between the lines of his brother’s words.  Soon, he comes to the bottom of the pile and he frowns.  It seems Stookey has struck again, the proof right there in front of him and addressed to one Mrs. Carol Peletier, apparently the proud new owner of Sergeant Ford’s old place. 

  <3<3<3

  “What’s a ‘rectional cility?” 

 “It’s a place where…know what?  It ain’t important.” 

 “But what is it?  What do people do there?” 

 “They learn to be good again.” 

 “Were they bad before?” 

 “Some of ‘em.  Some of ‘em just got lost.” 

 “Like that time Gabby got lost and we found her up in a tree?” 

 “Not exactly.” 

 “How then?” 

 “That’s a conversation for another time, Baby Girl.” 

 “I’m not a baby.” 

 “Not a big girl either.  Not yet.” 

                                                                                                     “Yes, I am.” 

 “No.  You’re in between.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.  You’ll grow up soon ‘nough.” 

 “How soon?” 

 “Too soon.” 

 “How soon is too soon?” 

 “Blink of an eye.  ‘Fore you know it, you won’t want me tellin’ you stories no more.” 

 “That ain’t true.” 

 “Why?” 

 “Just ain’t.” 

 “Tuck your toes in, Baby Girl.” 

 “M’snug as a bug in a rug.” 

 “That so?” 

 “Uh huh.” 

 “Good. Just a little bit more and that’s it for tonight.  We’ll save the rest of the story for later.” 

 “M’kay.” 

 “Sleepy, ain’t you?” 

 “Don’t wanna be.” 

 “Know.  You’ll have sweet dreams.  I’ll make sure of it.” 

 “Promise?” 

 “Promise.” 

  <3<3<3

  The sun is setting before he finally works up the nerve to walk over there.  The crickets are out in full force, and that quiet little girl from three doors down is chasing after lightning bugs with her dad, mason jars in hand.  He can’t remember her name.  It’s short and foreign-sounding, and he wonders if the family are travelers, must be with a name like that, but it’s a fleeting thought because it doesn’t take long at all to walk up those three wide steps.  He clenches the envelope between his sweaty palms and swallows.  He doesn’t have a chance to knock on the door before it is pulled open and another little girl and a woman spill through it, nearly plowing into him.  There’s a blanket tucked beneath the woman’s arm and a melting popsicle in the child’s hands, and they look just as startled or more so than he feels, and it takes a few moments before any of them rediscover the power of speech.  The little girl reaches for the woman’s free hand, and that seems to do the trick. 

 “I’m sorry.  You are?” 

 “M’your neighbor,” he offers. 

 “My neighbor?  Oh.  You think I’m Carol.” 

 “You’re not?” 

 A small voice butts in then, soft and shy and apologetic all at once.  “Aunt Andrea.  You promised.”

 The woman stoops to the little girl’s level, hands over the blanket with a reassuring smile.  “Why don’t you pick us out a good spot for counting while I talk to the nice man, okay?  I’ll be right there.” 

 They both turn to watch the little girl scamper across the yard and arrange the blanket just so.  He smirks a little when he sees her lick a trail up her arm, the popsicle fast dwindling in her hand and painting her skin in cherry stickiness.  His amusement fast fades when he catches the woman watching him with hawkish blue-green eyes, her mouth curling at the corners.  Feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he glances away for a brief moment, shoves the envelope into her hands.  “Postman left Mrs. Peletier’s mail in my box by mistake.” 

 “Thank you for bringing it by.” 

 “Ain’t nothin’.” 

 She laughs a little, the sound not unkind.  She crosses her arms across her chest and considers him. 

 He doesn’t miss those eyes of hers glance downward at his left hand.  He can feel the usual heat of embarrassment creep along his skin in response, and he burrows his hands deep in his pockets, nods his head.  “Just wanted to make sure she got her mail.  I’ll just…over there.”  Her voice stops him before he can fully turn around.   

 “You’re the man with the dog.” 

 “Lots of people in this neighborhood with dogs,” he answers.  He’s not sure why, though.  It’s just prolonging this whole uncomfortable encounter and he wants nothing more than to escape to his own little piece of peace, close that door behind him.  The woman has other ideas.  She just keeps talking. 

 “But your dog is no ordinary dog.” 

 Another woman steps outside, and the two link hands.  Her eyes are just as deep and warm as the color of her skin, and her smile bright as she regards him.  “Definitely not an ordinary dog.  Not according to Sophia.” 

 “She does tricks.  I saw her, Aunt ‘Chonne.” 

 He looks down, surprised to find the little girl at his side and staring up at him in something akin to secondhand wonder.  There are freckles on her pale skin, all across her cheeks and her button nose.  She’s small and she’s delicate, and he’s sure she’d weigh next to nothing in his arms.  It’s a strange thought, one that finally spurs him into action.  “Not tricks.  She just listens.  Make sure your mama gets her mail, ‘kay?” 

 “Yes, Sir,” the little girl solemnly promises.    

 It takes less time for him to cross the distance this time, but his escape still isn’t quick enough. 

 “She’s not married!  In case you’re curious about her.  Carol.” 

 “Andrea!” 

   <3<3<3

  “Sleep, Baby Girl.  There’ll be more tomorrow.” 

    End Notes:

Thanks for reading!!!

 Feedback would be wonderful. 

[bleualice]

5 Common Woodworking Mistakes To Avoid

Loose woodworking plans. Highland timber data on line woodworking magazine.

Approximately megan fitzpatrick megan is the editor and content material director of popular woodworking magazine.

Looks as if the interior threads are. Home furnishings carpentry venture plans traditional tramp spinning top to modern computing gadget desks we hold stick out plans for any case of house bureau you privation to Items ace twenty of Push Stick. A cedar slab conundrum popular woodworking mag. About megan fitzpatrick megan is the editor and content material materials director of famous woodworking magazine. Cabana village plans - pool house, backyard shed and cabin, Design backyard sheds, storage sheds, pool homes or pool cabanas on-line and purchase custom plans - or purchase one among our inventory plans and make your individual modifications.. Also, you have to search for dependable providers, specifically when it requires electricity or heating, where errors can result in issues and monetary deficits. Yard animals. Below you might discover various the free woodworking plans to be noticed on the net. In case you are in Germany, Dictum is a superb place to go, as you'll be able to look and check out many various varieties, and the staff is very knowledgable. Since 1975, garrett wade has introduced you the high nice, woodworking hand gear and components that make your workshop entire. 479 furnishings ideas pallet wood desk diy vintage pallets ideas sofa desk decor pallet sofa desk diy pallet console desk diy small end. See further approximately cool wooden tasks, wooden initiatives and woodworking. But what if you would skip this whole half? If the children wish to skip rely, remind them to make it possible for they are leaving the right number of spaces between every skip counted quantity. Right here are animals made out of logs, twigs and sticks. This made it very easy to install the vise as one was not working overhead. These usually giant areas provide an awesome space to do work together with woodworking. On the grounds that 1972, woodworker's ship gives woodworking hardware, woodworking tools, & woodworking parts. Unfastened woodworking plans backyard artwork. Now you must reposition the lights or purchase extra gentle fixtures. Find and dmwoodworking Tumblr save thoughts about clean woodworking projects on pinterest, the sector's catalog of ideas. This is completely decorative and not required, however it’s a pleasant touch that provides a nod to the old sawmakers. I feel simply as silly writing that as most of you suppose I am for even mentioning it but typically things simply have to be said.. Here are animals comprised of logs, twigs and sticks. Sources for georgia primarily based woodworkers, woodworking companies, suppliers or different sources for woodworking within the state of georgia. Wooden news on-line, a unfastened woodworking magazine and publication for woodworking. Discover and shop ideas approximately cool woodworking projects on pinterest, the sector's catalog of thoughts. Relax, whether you are in search of a unique reward idea that will touch her heart like maybe the proper pendent or a more useful reward like gardening gifts, discovering that perfect reward can take a little bit of talent. Or kreg jig’s site right right here, it also comes with 10 unbelievable free plan downloads consisting of the plans for the storage enterprise machine! Loose log furnishings plans woodworking plan finder.

Sources for indiana based totally woodworkers, woodworking groups, suppliers or other sources for woodworking within the kingdom of indiana. Yard animals. Shopsmith woodworking gear. The set of wooden plans you choose needs to be for a newbie in some ways. This might have to return from an precise clock, maybe an outdated one which you no longer like. Regarding woodworking plans for newcomers, it is important to take on projects that signify realistic goals that may be achieved in a comparatively short time frame. This useful resource takes an encyclopedic strategy to explaining project designs in the only ways in which could be used by a beginner. As you may need observed from the images, it’s not solely a nice sitting area, but it surely additionally features as an additional storage space. We have health facilities in warrensburg, queensbury, fort. Bandsaw resawing well-known woodworking magazine. Bookcases & bookshelves • diy wooden duties • 1001 pallets

[filosofablogger]

Good Monday morning, my friends!  Come on in and make yourselves at home!  Did you all have a wonderful weekend?  The temperatures here were much more bearable than they have been so far this summer, so that was nice.  I even slept a whole 8 hours for the first time in a long time, so perhaps I won’t have so much trouble staying focused this week.  Help yourself to a bit of a morning snack, and let’s go in search of a bit of humour, shall we?

A donkey or a zebra?

Mahmoud Sarhan snapped photos at the International Garden Municipal Park in Cairo after he noticed the two zebras on display appeared to be donkeys painted to look like zebras.

The photos, which went viral, show the animals’ stripes appear to be smudging.  A veterinarian who analyzed the photos said the coloring of the faces do not align with a normal zebra’s appearance, and their stripes do not appear to be consistent.  The zoo, however, denies that any of the animals in the facility are fraudulent.  I’m no expert, so I will withhold judgment.

A Chinese zoo came under fire in 2013 when sharp-eyed visitors noticed an animal labeled as a “lion” was in fact just an especially fluffy dog. The People’s Park of Luohe said the Tibetan mastiff was a temporary replacement for the zoo’s real lion, which was away at a breeding facility.

Sheesh … can’t trust anything anymore.

Tooth all gone …

I am always amazed, and more than a little puzzled by the variety of inventive means parents use to remove their children’s ‘baby teeth’.  I mean … leave them alone – they will come out all by them selves, and if you cannot pull it out with only your fingers, then it isn’t ready yet anyway.  But parents seem to enjoy torturing their children.  Remember the one I mentioned a while back with the dad who pulled his son’s tooth by means of a crossbow?

This mom turned the job over to her son, Gibson, who fired off a Nerf dart that was tied to a loose tooth in the mouth of his sister, SaBella.  Nerf darts have been clocked at speeds as high as 35 mph!

Stupidity to the nth degree …

Mitchell Adkins, age 52, and Christopher Binion, age 46, were both old enough to know better.  It happened in Niles, Ohio, where the two men went into a local PetSmart store and somehow managed to walk out with an aquarium for which they did not pay.  But that isn’t the worst!  Their getaway vehicle?  A bloomin’ motorcycle!!!

PetSmart called the police, and as the officer was on his way to the store to take a report, he spotted the men fleeing the scene, so he turned and followed. Mitchell sat on the back, holding the stolen goods, and at some point, for reasons undisclosed, decided to jump off, breaking the aquarium and getting himself arrested.

And the stupidity continues, for while the officer lost track of the motorcycle rider, the vehicle was soon found abandoned behind the Chef Peng restaurant. Officers searched the area and spotted a “nervous-looking” man behind a home.  Besides looking nervous, Christopher began to furiously prune a small tree with his bare hands telling officers he was there to do yard work.  He told police he saw the suspects flee east on a nearby road, but investigators did not believe his story and he, too, was arrested.

And they didn’t even wear helmets!!!

But mom – I thought you liked it!

You know how puppies are … always so eager to please their humans that they bring us an array of things that … well, end up maybe not pleasing us so much.

Such was the case when Baloo, the 5-month-old border collie decided to please his human, Carol Wohr, by bringing in the lawn sprinkler from outside … while it was still sprinkling!

“I was in a panic on what to do. My lamp and TV were getting soaked. Good thing I was wearing waterproof mascara.”

Wohr said playing in the sprinkler is one of Baloo’s favorite activities. She said she plans to keep a close watch while watering the lawn in the future to make sure the puppy’s water antics remain outside.

Three cheers for the new mayor …

I have written before about towns that had a dog as mayor, but this is a first … a cat!  The Village of Omena in Michigan, has had non-human mayors for more than a decade.  The feline’s name is Sweet Tart, and she will serve until the next mayoral election in 2021.  Her opponents this round included 13 dogs, a peacock, a goat, a chicken and another cat, all of whom were awarded positions on the village council.

Now, I am willing to bet that this village is run in a much more humane and efficient manner than those run by humans, for in the past two years I have concluded that humans are not, after all, a superior breed!

And now, folks, while I wish I could invite you to hang out here all day, I really do have work to do … and so do you!  I hope you found something to chuckle about here today, and if you did … go share a smile or two with somebody who isn’t chuckling!  You could probably even part with a hug or two this week, eh?  Keep safe and have a great week.  Love ‘n hugs from Filosofa!

It’s Monday, So It Must Be … Jolly!!! Good Monday morning, my friends!  Come on in and make yourselves at home!  Did you all have a wonderful weekend? 

[michellelewis7162]

Mushroom Developing

Mushroom Developing

 There is a very big variation between the farming or even expanding of environment-friendly vegetations and mushroom expanding. While the green plants are actually furnished with chlorophyll for getting the nutrients they need for development, mushrooms carry out not have chlorophyll which has made it powerful for all of them to get their meals via reliance on other vegetation components. The main body of the mushroom is made up of the mycelium which is really the little strings which grow on the plant product (the substratum) whereby they acquire their required nutrients. Mushrooms are understood to grow on diverse vegetation products. Magic Mushrooms Canada

 It is actually prudent that a person that is planning on entering into the growing of mushroom should recognize rather about the fungi life process. Illustrated listed below are the things that will assist one aiming to enter mushroom increasing to know the many things he or she requires to be productive in the project of mushroom growing Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 As soon as one acquires a common knowledge worrying the various fungis life cycles, the person is going to after that move on to comprehending the criteria required for the growth and well being of any one of the varieties of mushrooms the person is desiring to grow. Outdoors mushroom expanding in the form of a yard is actually one that requires really little bit of initiative once the person has actually provided the necessary shot to the logs or every other materials with mushroom give rise to. The only work left behind for the person to carry out is monitoring the humidity and also managing the mushroom give rise to in regards to fruiting. As quickly as the mushrooms show up sensibly, they are at that point picked and sold.

 There is actually likewise the in the house mushroom increasing which often tends to fill up any kind of area left behind due to the outdoors mushroom growing. Every function that relates to growing mushroom is actually executed within. It in fact gives really good end results however this is simply reliant upon the individual's know-how, endless oversight and also proper management of the whether health conditions.

 In mushroom developing, the adhering to steps are taken as well as it can last for approximately fifteen full weeks or even lower depending exclusively on the particular specie of mushroom being developed.

 One has to pick the channel by means of which the mushrooms will definitely be actually expanded, disinfecting the picked tool of farming, injecting the chosen medium along with mushroom generate, keeping the best feasible temperature, humidity and various other setting that will definitely not inhibit the development of the mycelium as well as assistance to a wonderful degree in the mushroom generate creating excellent fruits, tweezing or even collecting of the mushrooms, packaging as well as sales of the accumulated mushrooms, clean up of the farming establishment and resumption of yet another period of mushroom farming Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Exactly How to Grow Mushrooms From Mushroom Growing Kits

 Mushroom sets have in fact had a fair quantity of flak in latest times along with many critics claiming that they provide very inadequate worth for money when reviewing the yields of the mushroom sets along with the genuine cost of the mushrooms in the shops. I locate this a really unjust evaluation as well as experience that it is wrong to merely review the 2 with the quantity of mushrooms that they generate.

 You may buy mushroom expanding kits for only a few various varieties of mushroom - you can receive button mushroom increase sets and you can obtain shellfish mushroom expand packages. These two are actually one of the most common and could be purchased at most garden facilities as well as usually on backyard center internet sites. You can easily also develop various other varieties coming from even more professional web sites, permitting you to increase your very own mushrooms like Shiitake, Portobello as well as more. These kits usually cost around ₤ 5 to ₤ 10 as well as are going to perhaps deliver you along with around ₤ 5 really worth of mushrooms (if increased in the most ideal possible setting, and also depending on the range as some mushrooms cost additional after that others in the outlets) Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 I do not understand why folks groan when it sets you back more to get a mushroom expanding package then it does to acquire the mushrooms on their own. The majority of the food store mushrooms are actually developed enormously wholesale and are normally expanded in other countries and also imported all over, where it is a lot less expensive for them to grow them. Theres the fact that in a kit you receive a carton as well as acquire the substrate (compost or straw) as well as a small bag of spawn. When you acquire mushrooms coming from a shop you aren't left behind over with superb compost for your yard (mushroom garden compost is just one of one of the most nutritious and also expensive kinds of garden compost as the mushrooms break as well as reprocess lots of nutrients existing in the substratum). And afterwards there is actually the truth that you are developing mushrooms your own self - definitely the excitement and also fun factor are worth spending for as well.

 In my point of view mushroom growing packages are actually an outstanding technique of increasing your very own mushrooms and also even when occasionally they don't give impressive value for loan when matched up to the shop price you will discover a lot coming from performing it your own self as well as is going to most likely take excellent satisfaction in developing and after that consuming your own mushrooms. Maybe even the moment you've found out a little even more regarding growing mushrooms you can eliminate the intermediary and also discover your own substrate (straw, newspaper, manure) and buy or produce your personal mushroom generate. This is actually where you can receive real worth for money also, growing hundreds of extra pounds worth of mushroom coming from actually a couple of extra pounds expenditure Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 The Magical Mushroom

 Mycology, the research of mushrooms, is taking brand-new fans to the 'fungus one of our company." Already being used for a variety of medical explanations all over the world, the humble toadstool might be slung in to the limelight soon as an effective, substitute treatment for some persistent inequalities.

 Mushrooms are actually valued through vegetarians due to their higher nutritional value.They manage to make vitamin D when uncovered to direct sunlight. Mushrooms have B vitamins, vitamin C, blood potassium, phosphorus, zinc, salt, as well as calcium.

 Medical mushrooms possess lots of substances as well as nutrients that are actually health-strengthening. Eastern medicine, specifically standard Chinese process, has used mushrooms for centuries. In the U.S., studies were actually carried out in the very early '60s for feasible techniques to modulate the immune system and to prevent cancerous tumor growth with essences Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Mushroom seeking is actually preferred, but it is certainly not secure. Some edible mushrooms are actually just about similar to poison ones. It takes a specialist to tell the difference. Additionally, mushrooms behave like a sponge and effortlessly take in toxic substances coming from dirt as well as sky. However, mushrooms are actually conveniently thought about a 'organic food.'

 Without the method of photosynthesis, some mushrooms acquire nutrients by malfunctioning raw material or by feeding from much higher vegetations. Yet another market attacks living vegetations to eat all of them. Poisonous and eatable wide arrays are located near origins of oak, yearn and fir trees.

 Mushrooms were actually made use of ritually by the locals of Mesoamerica for countless years. They were actually extensively eaten in spiritual events by cultures throughout the Americas. Cavern paintings in Spain represent ritualized intake dating back as for 9000 years. Psilocybin usage was actually decreased until Western psychiatry rediscovered it after World War II.

 The questionable place of research is the use of psilocybin, a naturally happening chemical in particular mushrooms. Psilocybin has been actually shown to become successful in addressing dependency to alcohol and cigarettes.

 New research studies present the psychedelic medicine could alleviate stress as well as depression in some cancer cells individuals. State of mind raising effects that lasted a minimum of several weeks after eating the fungi were stated in some studies.

 While fungus has actually fascinated individuals for centuries, it may finally be entering a brand new time where its recuperation electrical powers and unknown premiums are being actually uncovered. The mushroom could well store the secret to some long ago locked illness and also puzzles.

 Perform you desire to expand good quality shiitake mushrooms for your small business? You can easily possess nutritious enhancement to your assortment if you fruit product your logs. These exquisite, fleshy fungis may include a scrumptious touch to your dishes. The taste you will obtain will definitely surpass any other recipe that makes use of other sort of mushrooms. You can easily also keep these new shiitakes in the refrigerator for two to three weeks. Regardless of whether they dry up, they will certainly reclaim their original texture if you saturate all of them in water. The process of blanching and afterwards cold will certainly help in always keeping the shiitakes in usable condition for many months.

 Beginning your company along with these suggestions

 You might be actually pondering over the idea of right now starting your growing. If you have a rewarding creation, you may also consider starting your own organisation on a small scale. Acquire mushroom logs for sale from distinguished suppliers and also obtain a clean supply of mushrooms. Find out a few of the general tips so that you can find yourself along with a nourishing yield Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 1. Frequent routine maintenance

 You must buy mushroom logs up for sale from the marketplace as well as take adequate steps to sustain all of them on a regular basis. These chunks can be kept well-balanced through saturating them after a space of two full weeks. For this purpose, you must make use of only non-chlorinated water. The sources might be filteringed system, bottled or rainwater.

 2. Living living thing

 You should recognize the truth that the log you are dealing is a living body. Sky, water, and also sun light are actually the elements essential for the growth of mycelium. You can easily consistently oblige fruit your log after a gap of two months. This purpose may be obtained through soaking those blocks in non- chlorinated water for a whole day. These will definitely lead the portions to feel that the autumn or even the spring time is actually merely close.

 3. Forms of woods

 The blocks which work absolute best are actually oaks, ironwood, difficult maple as well as wonderful gum. You may achieve faster end results by utilizing lighter hard woods. Nonetheless, they are not that heavy duty contrasted to denser styles. The visibility of fungicidal resins creates softwoods unsuitable for mushroom growing. You can easily consistently rely on a reliable vendor for offering you along with the correct selection of logs.

 4. Industrial operators

 The office drivers are specialists that generate logs by producing them go through different temperature level setups as well as submersing all of them in amazing water at proper intervals. The greatest quality portions are actually offered to the ranches as well as local organisations.

 5. Various elements possessing an effect

 You can enjoy cultivating new mushrooms for 4 years or two if you take enough care of your logs. The elements that possess an influence on the fruiting of the logs are actually the amount of humidity, volume of sun light and also proper temperature level. You should regularly remember that a well-rested log generates the absolute most effective end results.

 Increasing Button Mushrooms Using a Mushroom Growing Kit

 The button mushroom, or even Agaricus Bisporus, is one of the best cultivated mushrooms on earth. In the wild this mushroom appears in areas and has a darker, brownish cap along with darker gills as well. They are actually recognized in bush as field mushrooms yet they are actually usually labelled as the switch mushroom or even the Portobello mushroom, although the Portobello varieties are often larger in dimension.

 Mushroom developing sets have ended up being significantly preferred in recent years as the general public opinion as well as perceptions towards fungis seems to have unwinded a little - no longer are individuals scared of mushrooms and rather are actually readied to make an effort and also try at expanding their personal in the house Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Although mushroom grow packages are actually confined in fungi species currently (I've just seen switch, Shiitake and Oyster grow sets), the switch mushroom is actually without a doubt one of the most extensively on call develop package. A lot of gardening stores market mushroom growing sets, and also these shops seem to be to concentrate on the most popular, thought about as being "more secure" mushrooms - the Button mushroom.

 The Button mushroom increase packages are actually really straightforward to use, also a little one can efficiently grow their personal plant of mushrooms in only a couple of full weeks! You just require to clear the substrate right into a compartment and leave behind in a trendy damp location till the mycelium expands fully by means of the block (transforming it white colored) and after that cover it with the studying garden compost provided. Relocate in to a cooler place and also spray with water on a regular basis to always keep damp. Little white circular blobs will definitely seem which will definitely turn into mushrooms after simply a number of times.

 The Secrets to Mushroom Growing

 Definitely if you are actually a mushroom fanatic, you would like to know just how to develop mushrooms. Normally, you would wonder about mushrooms.That is actually perfectly regular. If experienced mushroom eaters will wish to grow their own mushrooms, it will to no surprise. Mushrooms are actually great resources of protein.

 As opposed to the common knowledge that mushroom expanding will include a massive amount of skill-sets along with a focused type of technique in growing these little bit of jewels, mushrooms are the no-frills kind. AS long as their food items is actually given plus all the necessary needs are actually gotten to, all the raiser must do is actually to stand by until it is actually time for harvest. Real, when you reside in the country side, you can expand as many as you can. Just because you reside in the urban area carries out certainly not suggest you might certainly not have the ability to grow your own mushroom backyard. Long as you have the room, your channel and also some spores, you can easily create mushrooms by batches. Similar to the countryside, you primarily allowed all of them be, Making sure that they have enough food to eat and also humidity and the temp is actually just enough, your mushrooms will certainly come like little bit of white colored globs on your tool right just before your eyes!

 Did you recognize that the tip to developing mushrooms is certainly not a great top secret? Perhaps when you ask a mushroom raiser what the tip to a wonderful tasting mushroom is, all he answers is a smile on his skin. Probably you might conclude that it must be a long-kept secret that just a handful must know.A handful, alright. Yet the technique is actually not really that fantastic Magic Mushrooms Dispensary.

 Are you curious what that is actually? All you need to possess is actually to give rise to or even possess spores when you really want to develop great mushrooms. You don't need to take care of it either. Don't consider this as some amazing vegetation that has some exclusive demands. Ever before become aware of the words "Popping up like mushrooms along the railroad"? Effectively, that is actually basically it. Mushrooms essentially merely turn up.

 In addition to spores as well as the likes, what perform mushrooms require?

 For sure, mushrooms carry out certainly not need to have light therefore much better maintain them somewhere where light can certainly not trickle through like in a closed package. An additional necessary element to note is actually the temperature. You need to have a dependable one. Attempt certainly not to hit 50-600F at this point.Be certain that you maintain the humidity level constant. You do not would like to have perished -appearing mushrooms.

 These are the necessities, or even should our experts state, the technique to mushroom expanding. As you could have discovered by now that the secret performs certainly not feature some unusual compound or even anything; instead, the trick concerns possessing the ideal mix of all the mentioned variables. The moment you receive the correct formula for a particular mushroom varieties, your endeavor will definitely expand significantly.

 Outdoors mushroom expanding in the type of a yard is actually one that requires very little bit of initiative once the person has provided the proper vaccination to the records or even any type of various other products along with mushroom give rise to. You may buy mushroom developing sets for only a few different species of mushroom - you can obtain switch mushroom grow sets and also you can acquire oyster mushroom expand packages. When you purchase mushrooms coming from a store you aren't left behind over with great garden compost for your landscape (mushroom garden compost is actually one of the most nourishing and pricey types of compost as the mushrooms damage down as well as reprocess many nutrients found in the substratum). In my point of view mushroom expanding sets are an excellent way of developing your very own mushrooms and also even if at times they don't provide outstanding value for cash when contrasted to the shop price you are going to find out therefore much from performing it your own self and also is going to probably take terrific pleasure in developing as well as then consuming your own mushrooms. They are actually understood in the crazy as area mushrooms but they are commonly classified as the button mushroom or the Portobello mushroom, although the Portobello varieties are generally larger in dimension.

[carasueachterberg]

When I started this diary, I thought it would go for about ten, maybe twelve weeks. I figured eight or ten weeks until the puppies went home and then another week or two after that for the adorable mama I saw in the photos to be adopted. As you all know, nothing went according to plan. And now, here we are at just over twelve weeks and Daisy has not had a single adoption application.

Which doesn’t make sense to me because while yes, she has a few quirks (fear of men being the biggest one), otherwise, she’s a sweetheart of a dog. She will undoubtedly LOVE her mama if she ever gets one. She’ll be a great hiking buddy and a silly, sweet, best friend.

Daisy’s presence here, combined with the work of caring for a mama dog and litter, and managing Flannery’s energy, is weighing on me. I want to do a good job with all three (technically eight) of my fosters, but there is only one me. And not to be a complainy-Jane, but I’ve had enough. Someone needs to come adopt a dog (or two).

I am doggedly working on a manuscript, determined to finish it and get it to my agent by the end of this month. The way the wheels of publishing work, even if I do manage to get it finished by the end of the month, by the time you factor in re-writes, the eventual sale of the manuscript and the lengthy publication process, it will be 2021 (if I’m lucky) before my next novel hits the shelves. I miss being a fiction writer. Right now I feel like a full-time foster dog mom.

Because basically I am.

But I don’t want your pity (don’t deserve it because I volunteered for this), what I do want is your adoption applications. Daisy needs a home. A real home. So does Flannery (but more about that in the next post).

If you aren’t following along with my sporadic Daisy updates on Facebook, here they are in review:

Diary of a rescue day 71:

We took Daisy and Frankie for a walk together. Frankie was nervous about Daisy being so close but they did great. She wanted to engage him, even licked his face once. When we got back we walked into the house together. Nick asked Frankie to sit and gave him a treat. Daisy leaned forward, wanting a treat too and took a treat from Nick. Made my day.

It seems as though Daisy has turned some kind of corner. I’m hopeful she will keep getting better and better with the other dogs. I hate that she lives alone in the kitchen or out in the playyard. What I hope most though is that her real mommy finds her soon. She is so ready.

#anothergooddog #gettingthere #chooseme

Diary of a Rescue Day 73:

Tanis stopped by today. Daisy was overjoyed to see her- covering her with kisses and nuzzles and then racing around with the zoomies like she was showing off.

It makes me so happy that I am not Daisy’s only person. I suspect she might have a similar reaction to Susan.

On Thursday, Daisy will go to boarding for three days while I am away. I think she will be fine there- maybe a little scared but safe. The rescue coordinator at the shelter where she originally came from told me Daisy did fine at the shelter so I’m hopeful that a few days at a boarding facility won’t be the worse thing for her.

Fingers crossed her mama finds her soon.

#areyoumymother? #opttoadopt Daisy B

Diary of a Rescue Day 76:

I am away on a girls’ weekend and Daisy is at boarding. I haven’t gotten any reports, but I assume she is anxious but fine. Still, I worry a little.

At this point, though, I realize that this will be a necessary part of fostering Daisy as I can’t stay home all the time or expect my friends to come to my house three times a day to care for her when I’m gone.

I have to mention here that Daisy has not been a typical foster. So, just in case you’ve thought about fostering, don’t base your decision on this diary. I’ve only had five dogs (that weren’t nursing puppies) out of 145 who stayed longer than a month or two, and most have only stayed a week or two.

That said, this happens sometimes and it can be a bit hard on the heart to see the long lists of dogs in need of rescue and not be able to save one because you are months into saving your current dogs. (Flannery is still here too.)

Since I can’t take in a new foster dog, it’s on you. There are so many dogs that need you – maybe fostering would be a great family summer project! If I can personally twist your arm, feel free to message me!

Diary of a Rescue Day 79:

Just a girl and her antler…..

#opttoadopt #DaisyB (antler included)

Diary of a Rescue Day 80:

Daisy is home again. She did fine at Lakeside and they took good care of her. I have been uber busy catching up on work and dealing with some health issues with mom and pups, plus my traveling husband and busy kiddo, not to mention the spring garden and foot-high grass, so she has spent most of the time since I picked her up in our puppy play yard.

Hopefully, I’ll have time to get her out for a walk again on Wednesday.

I’ve said it before that five dogs is a bit too much for me and definitely feeling that stress again.

#somethingsgottagive #Daisyneedsafamily

Thanks for reading!

If you’d like to know more about my blogs and books, visit CaraWrites.com or subscribe to my occasional e-newsletter.

If you’d like to know more about the book, Another Good Dog: One Family and Fifty Foster Dogs, visit AnotherGoodDog.org, where you can find more pictures of the dogs from the book (and some of their happily-ever-after stories), information on fostering, and what you can do right now to help shelter animals! You can also purchase a signed copy or several other items whose profits benefit shelter dogs!

If you’d like to know how you can volunteer, foster, adopt or donate with OPH, click here. And if you’d like more pictures and videos of my foster dogs past and present, be sure to join the Another Good Dog Facebook group.

I love hearing from readers, so please feel free to comment here on the blog, email carasueachterberg@gmail.com or connect with me on Facebook, twitter, or Instagram.

 Best,

 Cara

Released August 2018 from Pegasus Books and available now

  Diary of a Rescue Weeks Eleven and Twelve: This has gone on Long Enough When I started this diary, I thought it would go for about ten, maybe twelve weeks. I figured eight or ten weeks until the puppies went home and then another week or two after that for the adorable mama I saw in the photos to be adopted.

[themanuelruello]

How to Set Homestead Goals You’ll Actually Achieve

I currently can’t breathe when I walk outside…

That’s what below zero temps and crazy wind chills will do to ya.

Thankfully, even though the outside portions of our homestead are deep in hibernation at the moment, I have plenty to work on inside.

When I recently mentioned some of my favorite end-of-the-year rituals on Instagram, it prompted some interesting discussions around the things we do to set ourselves up for another 365-day stretch.

If you’ve ever struggled to set goals (that actually happen) for your homestead or future homestead, I made a video just for you.

We’ve been homesteading for almost a decade now, setting lots of goals, doing lots of projects, and have definitely figured out what does and doesn’t work. In this video, I’m sharing my best tips and practices that I use every single year to make sure our homestead goals turn into reality.

How to Set Homestead Goals You’ll Actually Achieve

(Keep scrolling if you prefer the written transcript version instead of the video!)

1. Keep Your Goal List Manageable (aka Don’t Go Crazy)

Don’t get me wrong: I love audacious goals, and dreams and big thinking, and we’ve been known to do some pretty crazy stuff, but I also know from personal experience that putting too many goals, or goals that are too big, on your list can not only cause you to feel scattered and overwhelmed, but can also cause you to feel really frustrated when you’ve been working your butt off, and then, only find yourself a quarter of the way through your list.

Make sure you have some quick wins built into your goal list so you can really feel that sense of accomplishment, which at least for me, is the very best motivator to keep going. The definition of manageable will really differ from person to person, but for us, I found it works best to break up our yearly goals into four different categories, and then, pick three to five specific goals, more than that in a minute, for each category. The specific categories that I like to set goals in are:

Family and Personal

Our Homestead

Our Blog/Online Business

Our doTERRA Business

The exact number of goals YOU set will depend on your situation, and it’s totally okay to go lighter in one area so you can focus elsewhere. We’ve done that many times.

The yard project that almost killed us.

Example: Last year I put way too many projects on our homesteading category of goals, and then come June when we were knee-deep in the middle of a huge yard remodel, and it was kicking our butt, and I realized it was gonna take the majority of our summer and the other things weren’t going to happen, I was really, really frustrated.

To remedy that from happening this year, I’m writing down a much more realistic list that I will be plugging into the calendar ahead of time so I know exactly how many months, or weeks, or whatever I have partitioned off for each homestead project.

2. Don’t Forget to Push Yourself (Great Things Never Came from Comfort Zones)

If a goal feels super safe, and comfortable, it’s probably not gonna be enough to really create the growth that you need. My rule of thumb is to keep expanding a goal until you feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach. That’s usually a good sign that it’s enough to push me out of my comfort zone to get the development and growth that I’m looking for personally throughout that goal process.

3. Make Your Goals Specific and Measurable.

I’m guessing you’ve heard this one before, but it really is crucial– I promise. Vagueness in setting goals is not your friend. It might feel more comfortable at first to have a broad target to aim at, but what you’re really doing is giving your brain just a million ways to skirt around doing the work, and that will absolutely prevent you from taking a hold of that goal, and making it come alive.

Measurable just means that you’ll have a clear marker to know when that goal has been reached. It’s really easy to write something like cook more on your list, but what does that really mean? And, you need to break that down.

In order to set yourself up for the maximum success, clearly define each goal to make it attainable for your situation. Rather than putting “cook more this year” on your list, try putting down specific action items such as “bake a loaf of bread each week”, or “learn how to make homemade broth.”

Do you see how the first goal felt really lifeless and vague, but the second one felt more alive with purpose and meaning? That’s exactly the same sort of feel that you’ll want to create in your own homestead goals for this year.

4. Write, Date, and Tell!

Every time I say this, someone argues with me, and says, “I don’t like writing goals down. That’s not how my brain works. I like to go on spur of the moment. It feels just scary.”

I get it–promise! But if you’re really serious about making your goals a reality, you’ve gotta get serious enough to write them down and give them a due date. There is something just magical about putting something on paper. I don’t know what it is, but it works.

It’s crucial to assign a date to your goal, and it doesn’t have to be a super tight deadline, but the human brain takes action the best when there’s an element of urgency, or some sort of date attached. Also, when you speak your goals out loud, it gets it out there in the universe, and not only can the person you’re telling help to hold you accountable, but when it comes out of your lips, you tend to take it more seriously as well.

5. Break it Down, Then START.

Even if you set the very best goals in the world, and spend all sorts of time making them just right, none of them will work unless you put this next tip into action immediately. You gotta start, and yes, it’s usually the hardest, and I wish I could tell you some magical tool, or secret sauce that would make starting just as easy as pie, but guess what? If it was easy, then everyone would do it, and they don’t. Do they? But, you will.

My best tip here is to START FAST. Do it before your brain can talk you out of it, and have all those excuses bubbled to the surface. It is the hardest part, but once you get that momentum going I promise it gets easier and easier. I still struggle with this, a blank page, an empty piece of bare dirt, a barren garden plot.

They all tend to make me feel a little bit stressed, and a little bit paralyzed. It’s really normal. What I’ve learned to do is to never demand any sort of perfection from myself on Day One. The mission on the first day is to simply get something, anything started.

I might hammer some words out on paper without punctuation, or spelling just to get it out of my brain.

I might map the garden out on paper, and then, get my first round of seeds ordered.

I might research the materials I need for our next building project, and then, put them on a supply list, or maybe even call the building store, and get them shipped and coming my way.

(That time we ripped down a million old pheasant pens on our property)

The first step does not have to be epic, or magical, or special, or perfect. It just has to be something. If you do something on day one, when you come back on the subsequent days, you’ll find it gets easier and easier.

Lastly, remember: it’s okay to be flexible in your goals. Sometimes plans shift and change, and you gotta give yourself some grace. There has been many years where our epic list of projects just didn’t happen the way I wanted to, and I had to be okay with it. The only thing is, promise me that you’ll be honest with yourself, and know the difference between procrastination, and just flexibility, because there is a difference.

A Few of Our Personal Homestead Goals for 2019:

ONE: Redoing our pens and corrals. Our homestead theme for this year is refinement. We’ve done a lot of construction, a lot of building, a lot of creating, and some of those systems worked really good when we first put them in 8 or 10 years ago, but they’ve stopped being efficient and productive, and so, we’re going back into some of those places that we built awhile back, and making them better.

The first element of that is our pens and corrals. We have a cattle chute and a few alleyways, but when we built them, we didn’t understand how the cattle would best flow, or the most efficient way to work them. The plan is to redo all of our cattle handling facilities this year so they’re safer and more efficient.

TWO:Building a Milking Parlor 

I’ve milked out in the open barn on the cement pad for a long time. It worked fine at the beginning, but I’m ready for a more efficient system. I’m tired of dealing with mud, or a big sloppy pile of manure, or the horses chasing the cow around every time I try to milk. It’s just not working anymore.

I’m ready for a designated milking area that I can keep more sanitary and organized. I need a place where I don’t to wrestle manure or the other animals, or whatever.

We have a few other areas of the homestead that we’re working on improving and refining this year, but we’re keeping things fairly simple as compared to some years in the past, since we have some other projects in the works that will benefit YOU…

…Like our very first cookbook which launches in April and makes me so giddy that I’m almost speechless. There will be many sneak peaks and LOTS of bonuses and freebies coming along with its official launch, but for now here’s a sneak peek of the cover.

Alrighty my friends: your turn! What homestead goal are you most excited for in the coming year?

The post How to Set Homestead Goals You’ll Actually Achieve appeared first on The Prairie Homestead.

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[benjamingarden]

Weekending

This post may contain affiliate links which come at no extra cost to you. These links allow me to share the products I authentically recommend (and use) and support Cobble Hill Farm by receiving a small commission. I'm bringing our "weekend" posts back!  I tried the once-a-month update but you know me, I like to talk which means I also like to write, which means, well.....it could make for a very long post if I wrote everything I wanted to write.  Anyway, we're back to weekly(ish) updates.  😊

Emerson (left), Oliver (right)

Oliver knows Emerson isn't feeling himself and has become his personal body guard.  He doesn't leave his side.

First things first, an update on our sick pup, Emerson.  If you're saying to yourself "what in the heck is wrong with Emerson?", check out the post here. Thank you very much to those of you who have sent us your well wishes.  It really means a lot to us. We were SO grateful to have received a call Thursday afternoon offering us a Friday MRI for him.  The (very) unfortunate thing is that the MRI confirmed exactly what was suspected.  Em has a tumor that is in his brain. We were given 4 choices (in a nutshell): 1. do nothing except continuing meds = lives 1-4 months 2. radiation = very good quality of life for up to a year/year and a half 3. chemotherapy = not as good quality of life for up to a year 4. brain surgery = questionable quality of life but will likely live longer - they would have to remove quite a bit of his brain. It's awful.  None of them are, of course, "ideal", but it's what we've got.  As we all know, this is the worst part of caring for pets - it's so difficult to see them sick.  The "good" thing is it is believed to be a non-cancerous tumor and they did not find cancer anywhere in his body. Long story short, we selected SRS - a type of radiation that can pinpoint the tumor and blast that as opposed to spreading the radiation into the surrounding areas.  Emerson had his initial consultation appointment today in Yonkers, NY (a 3 hour drive each way, at minimum) at an animal hospital there that offers this treatment.  That was the closest facility.  He goes back to stay all of next week and will endure 5 days of radiation treatments.  After that we believe all follow-up appointments will be able to be conducted at our local neurologists office.  We hope to give him a very good quality of life and keep him in our life for just a little bit longer..... Seizures will be an ongoing concern as the tumor will still be in his brain and we haven't a clue what the growth rate is.  So, he will continue on his meds and we will work with his neurologist and his primary doctor to adjust as needed. We are SO fortunate to have two amazing doctors heading this up.  I cannot recommend them enough - Dr. Bishop with Upstate Veterinary Specialties is our neurologist and Dr. Lori Langdon with Milton Veterinary Hospital is our primary veterinarian.  They are both kind, compassionate, patient, willing to give their honest opinion, and speak to you with respect and without judgement.  (these are not affiliate links - we just really love them and think you will too!) Emerson is doing well at the moment.  He has gotten a bit of his big personality back, is in better spirits and not quite so confused, and is attached even more closely to us which is ok with us.  He has a few minor struggles, but we believe that once he's adjusted to his meds this won't be an issue.  He has a HUGE appetite thanks in part to the steroids (although he's always had a love of obsession with food).

On to the coop girls...….. Eggs?  What are eggs?  I feel as though I am forgetting what they are as we are getting hardly any these days.  It's getting darker earlier which I believe is causing them to slow down on laying.  And molting season is just around the corner.  The hope is that the newest girls will be laying soon. The new girls are so funny.  The Plymouth Barred Rocks are quite brave and they dance amongst the (grouchy) older girls.  This, of course, makes the grouchy girls even grouchier and makes the newbies even happier.  It's quite fun to watch.  They are still, for the most part, staying on different ends of the property and different sides of the coop for now, but they will come together as one flock soon I'm sure.  The brave little Barred Rocks will make sure of that!

It's fall!!!!  I cannot tell you how happy I am for that.  It has been so hot and humid this summer, and since I'm not a fan of heat or humidity, it hasn't been fun.  I was hoping to get cornstalks and pumpkins on the front porch this week but I think it will be next week.

We spent Saturday making products and packaging since we lost time during the week to do so.  We had hoped to get back to working in the yard but that did not happen.  The temps were in the upper 60's both weekend days and it was just beautiful!  In the evenings I curled up on the couch with the dogs.  We even celebrated the cooler temps by pulling out our fluffy blankets.  I read, they slept.  It was the perfect evening.  

In the garden: we continue to harvest cukes, peppers, broccoli (from the summer plants!), herbs, green beans, and tomatoes.  Cabbage is almost ready and we haven't yet dug up the potatoes.  I meant to plant garlic but have so far forgotten to purchase some for planting.  Maybe next year. We didn't get quite the amount of fruit and veggies put away that we'd hoped.  We didn't get to make tomato jam or can crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, spaghetti sauce, or jalapenos.  I also don't think I was able to process enough bell peppers for our winter use.  The plants have slowed down considerably so we'll see what we get between now and the first frost.

One of the things I will repeat next year is to grow many of our culinary herbs in boxes that fit on our deck railings.  It was sooooo handy!  And since they were on the deck I remembered to water them, something that is difficult for me when they are in boxes throughout the garden.  I have some more coming up.  Fingers crossed they mature before the temps dip into freezing.

What about you?  How was your weekend?

Weekending was originally posted by My Favorite Chicken Blogs(benjamingardening)