#next time i go to this farmers market i would want to bring my wheelchair. cuz it was big

[wheelchairtetris]

went on a walk and to the farmers market using only crutches and am only feeling a little bad!!! yay!!

[space-cops]

my latest weird little fucked up dream because I had to post it somewhere with more than a paltry 200-something character limit

i wasnt the person in the dream but it was first person pov. I HAVE TO SET THE SCENE BECAUSE IT'S RATHER EXTENSIVE??? there were five of us living in the same house. it was a great big, very old victorian style-ish home with many, many floors. i don't remember how many but we didn't use the higher floors. everyone in the house was vaguely together in some sort of relationship? i think?? the bonds were definitely more than friends in some cases but it was really vague idk. on the bottom floor (b), two people lived there and they had lived there the longest. the two people who lived in the bottom floor mostly kept to themselves and we all were okay with this. they weren't mean or anything they were just sort of anxious and liked their space. i was closer to one of them than the other, but they were still very standoffish despite this and i was chill w it. they had lots of books and decorated the area in very soft, pale colours. there was a piano and i remember being told it was never played. it was very open and had lots of natural light. i knew in the dream i spent many evenings there reading with them and having dinner. the next floor up (1) lived a young man who used a wheelchair. he had the entire floor to himself but spent most of the time in his room, which was a typical sort of gamer-y room. several screens, dark but clean, lots of different forms of media. he was quiet and sweet, and i noticed he would watch me more often than the others. i knew in the dream setting we spent lots of weekends playing games together. the next floor (2) was where i lived. it just. was a house. i don't remember how it was decroated specifically but there was a particular hallway with a window at the end. it had a radiator beneath it. the bathroom was located on the left, and my room was on the right. the walls were sage green and the floors were a dark natural wood. i cooked a lot for everyone in the house and was always bringing food to everyone. i did not spend a lot of time on my floor. i seemed to be everywhere but my floor and I do not know why. the 2 floor ups (4) lived a woman who played the piano and sang and it was the softest purest sound i'd ever heard. i remember waiting at the open window at the end of my hall to hear her play in the morning. i used to bring her fresh fruit from the farmer's market in town, but the dream never left the house? if that makes sense. I do not know what was on the third floor. I did not go to the third floor. Nobody went to the third floor.

The house was beginning to fall apart. I knew it was starting to fall apart. We were having problems with the water periodically, and i was keeping up with fixing it myself but it would always act up again in a week or so. I noticed a slightly raised part of the floor by my radiator, just a small corner by the pipe leading into it. the problem was duly noted and would be fixed later. I went down to the bottom floor to visit the two people there. One of them had died. They died in the night. Their body was laid down on the floor and the other person was curled up next to them, and i remember begging for them to get up, to let me call the police, to let me do something. They were not speaking, they just stayed next to their housemate, staring at them. I remember thinking that they were dying too, and there was nothing i could do. I was told to leave, and hesitantly did. On my way out, I noticed part of their floor was buckling near the plumbing. "Oh, this is worse than it was last week." I went upstairs to the next floor. He was packing everything up. "There's water, somehow. I'm making sure everything is packed in case something goes wrong. Can you help me?" I helped him, packing everything up neatly except for a handful of things he wanted to risk for his own ease and entertainment in the meantime. I remember sitting on the edge of his bed, facing a window, which was open for the first time and he said "You never sit there. Are you okay?" and I shrugged and told him I was okay. He said "You look so different in the light." I laughed it off. As I was leaving I noticed some of his pipes were actively leaking and thought, I have to go downstairs to turn the water off right now, but for some reason I did not. I went to my floor to start making everyone dinner, and that's when my pipes started leaking. I noticed it by the window first. Water was coming out from under the bathroom door but I couldn't open it to see how or why. I couldn't open my bedroom door to start moving anything Important up onto the bed. The water had to be going down into the floors beneath mine and instead of worrying about my stuff, I started worrying about everyone else. I went down to f1 and started bringing his stuff up to the third floor, knowing that the problem was the worst on f2. it took hours, but I got it done. The wood flooring was buckling so badly I had to carry him and his wheelchair out and i brought him up to the third floor. He was worried about staying there, but I assured him it was okay. "You care so much." I went down to the bottom floor. It was full of water but it was so clear and it was so bright down there that I couldn't see anything. I kept calling out to the person down there and I wasn't getting an answer. I tried walking through the water but I could barely move in it. I remember begging for them to come out, to come find me, to let me help them, and they still wouldn't answer. I managed to get to the water supply and turned it off, but I had to go back upstairs. It was very cold, and I remember the combination of how bright it was versus the bitter cold made me uncomfortable in like. a non physical way. the vibe was really scary. The woman on f4 did not answer me, and she wouldn't open the door. She kept singing and playing but wouldn't come out to help. None of the lights were on on her floor, but I never noticed any damage either. The problem only reached my floor. I got f1 set up on f3 and once everything was set up, we started talking about our housemates on the bottom floor. "We have to leave them there. They are gone. Please don't go back." but I knew I had to go back. I kept seeing them laying on the floor together and I had to help. "You cannot go back down there until there is no water. You can die." And I did not go back. I called someone to help with the water and they came out a day later. As it usually goes with dream logic this was fixed in like a week. Everything completely back to normal. At the end of the week, I stopped listening to my housemate and went down to the bottom floor. The repair people didn't say anything about the people living there but at this point I knew that where they lived was separated from the utilities, so to speak, so they probably never ran into any of them. They never asked what was in the other rooms down there. I opened the door and I don't? Remember what exactly I saw at first? But there was almost nothing in there. It was empty, and cold, but so bright. The piano was gone. The furniture was covered in this white? stuff? I remember thinking it was a fungus or something? And eventually I entered the part of their floor where I had found them last and the two of them were still there, on the floor, with their blanket. I rushed over and the housemate that refused to let me help was staring, open eyed at the ceiling. I thought they were dead. Half their face was covered with the blanket. Suddenly they blinked, looked back at me, and started sobbing. I fell on my knees and pulled them from the blanket into my arms and they were soaking wet. "You came back for me. You came back even though he told you not to. You still love me? Are you mad at me? I couldn't leave, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you." And the way my heart hurt, the way my entire person was in this horrible physical pain from the amount of emotions I felt holding my housemate was what exactly how i woke up feeling and I literally never ever ever want to feel that way ever again :)

[heybeybey]

Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

Pairing: Rivetra | Levi x Petra

Summary: Forced to retire from the Scouts due to a major injury, Levi thinks he'll be spending the rest of his days in domestic solitude. Petra, however, has another idea.

Loosely based on The Way of the Househusband.

Or: Captain Petra x Househusband Levi canonverse AU

AO3 Link

A/N: Okay I've had this outlined for WEEKS (no ending in mind tho) but I never got around to actually drafting it. But....... I had some time this morning and the inspiration after seeing this post so yay.

Thanks to @sleeperswakewriting for introducing me to The Way of the Househusband. It's cute and funny and DEFINITELY RIVETRA in another universe.

This is going be a drabble series btw but no assurance on when I'll be updating each chapter (My Royalty AU draft is glaring at this fic rn tbh). Some chapters will be based on the Netflix show but Levi's condition is a bit different from Tatsu's so it'll probably be loosely based at best.

And yes, the title is from the song My Girl. But I like this version since I think it fits Petra the most :3

Also also, we all know deep down that Levi wants to be a househusband so here you go.

- - -

Chapter 1: The Ceremonies

There was a time when his mind wandered to how his career in the Scouts would end. Levi always thought he'd die on the battlefield, just as he witnessed among his comrades. He'd accepted that reality, sometimes even waiting for it despite his will to continue fighting on.

For some reason, retiring has never crossed his mind.

"Honorably discharged due to major leg injury, incomplete spinal cord injury, and loss of right eyesight."

He can still hear the pity and sadness from Erwin's voice from that day in the hospital when they talked over where he will go from there. The doctors mentioned that his spine will heal over time, but his leg is broken way beyond repair. It's worse enough that amputation was considered at one point. He'd be good as titan food should he retain his current position in the scouts.

At first, he wanted to scream. He wasn't the type to show some outwardly emotion (except for when he's beating down new recruits or the three males in his squad) but being a part of the Survey Corps is what gave this shit of a life some meaning after he was pulled out of the underground.

Frankly, he didn't know what's next.

"Hey, Captain." Petra's sweet voice snapped Levi out of his thoughts and he forces himself to get out of his bad mood. This was her day and he'd be damned if he ruins it for her.

Levi takes her in and the corner of his lip quirks up. He feels pride fill his chest as his eyes strays a bit on the insignia freshly pinned on her uniform.

"I think I should be the one calling you that, Ral." He replies. "Congratulations."

Wheelchair-bound for what may be the rest of his life, Levi and his squad had to sit down and talk over what's next for the Scout's elites. The obvious choice was Eld, but Levi and the rest of the team were surprised when the blonde man turned down the promotion. He says that while he had the leadership skills and the years of experience that makes him more than qualified, he knew that he didn't have the same burning dedication to the cause as much as he'd witnessed in others.

Eld said that he'd be glad to support the next team captain instead. Oluo, while skilled, had often been too focused on his kill count. Gunther has a strategic mind but didn't really have the charm to bring people together.

So they all turned their attention to Petra.

To be honest, Levi had always wanted to promote Petra as his second-in-command. However, Scout regulations demanded a certain number of years that she didn't have yet at the time he first chose his elite squad. He'd never had a problem with Eld, but his and Petra's ability to synchronise on the battlefield is the reason why he'd always turned to her when he needed a second hand.

It makes sense in his eyes and to the rest of the team, even when Erwin and the other soldiers were doubtful of his choice. They've seen how ferocious Petra is during expeditions, but still had the heart to cry alongside her dying comrades. She's kind and helpful, but knows when a hard decision is needed to be made. She'd pitched in her ideas and opinions every time she accidentally passed by the officers' meeting sessions (she always brought them tea so she sometimes hear the conversations). This was often met with a surprised look from her higher-ups but having worked with Petra for quite some time, Levi would just smirk at his fellow veterans.

She's still rough around the edges and she definitely still has more room to improve, but the potential is there. He wouldn't have chosen her as part of his team in the first place if he didn't see that fire.

He wasn't surprised that Eld, Gunther and Oluo supported her, even when Petra was terrified to accept such a responsibility. Levi was firm in his decision.

In the end, Erwin stamped on his approval.

Levi was the one who pinned the insignia on her signifying her new position during today's pinning-on ceremony.

- - -

"Hey, Captain!"

"I think you should stop calling me that, Petra."

"Sorry. Habit." The ginger blushes slightly as she steps closer inside the apartment, basket in hand. "I bought something for you."

She brings out a few fruits from the basket, laying it down on the dining table in his humble apartment. "The farmer's market was on sale today and I had the chance to pass by before they closed."

"You didn't have to buy me all these, Petra."

"I had to use my pay raise for something, Captain," she jests. He wheels himself towards her to assist her with unloading the basket and they both work in silent contentment.

"So, how's your first day?" Levi asks after washing the fruits. Petra's face lights up at his question and the whole room seems to come alive as she chatters on.

"Holy Maria, Captain. I didn't know the team can be this stupid. No wonder you had dark eyebags after training us for years!"

- - -

It's been three months since he resigned from the Scouts. The new captain never fails to come home to the apartment he's renting near the Scout HQ everyday.

Come home? Tch. How delusional can you get.

He'd welcome her back every expedition and every training day. A part of him feels a bit of guilt gnaw on him when he sees how tired Petra is whenever she comes home, thinking of the time when he was her direct commanding officer.

"Captain, can I sleep here tonight?"

Now, he sees the sorrow and fatigue in her eyes. "You're always welcome here, Petra."

He offers to give up his bed for the night but she declines, saying that she'll be fine on the couch. She's unnaturally quiet, but he knows that this is how she typically is after expeditions.

They're both on the couch right now and she snuggles closer to him. Levi motions for her to lay her head on his lap, their boundaries thinning with every single visit.

He's quiet when he sees the tears start to fall from her eyes. Soon, Petra's sobbing and she wraps her arms desperately around him. His hand starts to slowly run through her ginger locks, hoping it gives her some comfort.

"She was the last in my and Oluo's batch." She starts, voice shaking and he gives her space to talk and mourn her comrade. "I wanted to save her... but it was either her or compromise the mission. I had to give the order."

"I'm sorry." Because if someone understands her better, it's him.

- - -

"Levi?"

It's the scout's day off today and they're all allowed to leave the vicinity to visit friends and family, or simply just to fuck around if they wanted.

Petra, not surprisingly, decides to spend another weekend with him.

"Hmm?" He's currently preparing their lunch, wheeling himself around the kitchen area.

"Did you ever think about settling down when you were still in the scouts?"

He cocks an eyebrow at her question. "And leave a widow crying on my grave? I didn't even have the time to date, Petra."

And he didn't even want to date someone else. Not when he kept having wet dreams about his own subordinate at that time.

"Well, you have a chance now, right?" Petra starts to help with laying down the dishes on the table. He looks at her, eyes taking in her body language. She's doing that thing with her hands again where she tries to occupy it with things to do whenever she's nervous. She's too tense for this to be some absent chatter.

"Just spit it out, Petra."

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm always here. In this apartment. Whether I'm back from training or meetings or expeditions," she starts. Levi wheels himself forward to grab their food from the small kitchen but he attentively listens to each of her words. Seeing that he won't be replying, Petra decides to continue.

"I like coming home to you, Levi. And I'm still devoted to you." Petra nervously says, the redness on her cheeks intensifying. Levi feels his heart thump at her last sentence. He stops what he's doing and looks straight into her amber eyes, the same moment as she reaches out to delicately hold both of his hands. "I'd like to continue doing so... if you'll have me in another way."

Bold as ever is the first thing that fondly came to his mind. He feels emotion start to climb up his throat but he never wavers in staring back at her. The next thing that came to mind wasn't exactly a thought, and the answer leaves his mouth with a certainty he didn't know he had.

"Okay," he quietly replies. Not much of a talker, as usual. Still, his sure answer was quite a surprise to the both of them.

Was it loneliness? That fear that he'd most likely die alone because of his automatic ability to push people away? Maybe it's some deep hidden desire to live a domestic life with someone—something that he allowed himself to fleetingly dream of while he was still in that underground hellhole—that he has since accepted wouldn't be in his future.

Until now.

He and Petra decided to have a shotgun wedding that same afternoon.

[blondekasp]

We’re a Beautiful Thing Together

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier

word count: 1632

read on ao3

* * * * *

After leaving Derry, things are beginning to look up. Eddie’s moved in with Richie in California, and at first they slept in separate rooms, but more and more often, Richie began to come quietly into Eddie’s room at night, and Eddie would just crack his eyes open and smile gently, opening his arms and letting Richie come into his embrace. Now they both sleep in Richie’s room, and maybe they kiss each other goodnight, maybe good morning, too.

Eddie’s adjusting to his new life, he’s learning how to do things while in his wheelchair, and though it’s been hard since he was released from the hospital, he’s very grateful that he’s in this situation, because the alternative was death —the thought still makes him shiver. Richie’s so supportive of him, helping him whenever he really needs it, but letting him gain back his independence after being under intense care in hospital for months. Richie carries him downstairs in the morning and upstairs at the end of the day because they obviously can’t bring the wheelchair up the stairs, though Eddie can admit he doesn’t mind that Richie carries him.

After divorcing Myra and taking all of his things with him to Los Angeles, Eddie had to quit his job as a risk analyst and find something new in the area. Richie suggests that he do something he actually enjoys, because he knows that being a risk analyst wasn’t the most riveting occupation. Eddie knows that the only reason he took the job was because Myra didn’t want him to do something practical or hands on in case he got hurt. Really, he’s always wanted to be a mechanic, cars fascinate him. He told Richie this, and he was very encouraging. Eddie plans on opening up an auto-body shop in the future once he feels like he’s completely recovered and has a grip on his new life.

In the five months since they left Derry, the press have definitely caught wind of the fact that an unknown man is now living with famous comedian Richie Tozier, and people are talking about it. Last month, pictures surfaced of Richie and Eddie at the farmers’ market —one of Richie smiling dopily at Eddie, who’s completely unaware as he looks at an array of fruit and veg, one of them at a bench near the market featuring Richie reaching over the armrest to hold Eddie’s —who was sitting beside the bench in his wheelchair —hand as they laughed about something one of them had said. Richie apologised profusely to Eddie when the pictures came out, feeling awful that Eddie’s privacy had now been violated as well as his own. Eddie told him not to apologise, he knew what he was getting into when he went with Richie to California, it’s a small price to pay for being with the man he loves for the rest of his life. Richie’s worth it.

“Eds! My love, my light!” Richie exclaims, waltzing into the dressing room full of the losers, and going straight for Eddie. He leans down to Eddie’s open arms, holding himself up by gripping onto the wheelchair’s armrests and gratefully welcoming Eddie to sling his arms around his neck and plant a big kiss on his cheek. “Did you enjoy the show?” Richie asks nudging his nose against the blonde haired man’s.

Eddie laughs, “You were great, Rich! I’m so proud of you.” It’s his first show since he took a break before leaving for Derry to reunite with the losers, and he was really nervous before it. Eddie had assured him that he was going to be amazing, and he was right. Eddie was utterly amused the whole way through it, and Richie was fuelled to keep going by the sight of his love in the front row covering his mouth as he laughed hysterically.

“Thank you, peanut.” Richie kisses his forehead, and stands back, greeting the rest of the losers. “Do you guys think it went well? You know, when I said it? Did the audience seem cool with it?”

“So, fun fact —I didn’t used to write my own scripts. Shitty, I know, and I agree. It’s so much better writing my own material, because now I can talk about what I want, whatever I think is funny. It’s perfect timing because since I’ve been on break, a childhood friend’s come back into my life and we’re together now! There’s nothing I love more than talking about him, considering that my big fat crush on him as a teenager has now been satisfied.”

Richie knows that the audience was probably shocked to hear him referring to his lover as another man, and while he knows that him finally freeing this truth from the prison of his own head is the most important thing, he’s still a bit nervous about what people are going to think. Sure, there’s been pictures of he and Eddie together, but nothing that officially proves anything, and he hasn’t spoken out at all about those pictures.

“I think they were surprised, but honestly? They all looked really supportive.” Ben pipes up, and the rest of the losers nod in agreement, grinning at Richie with absolute pride.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely, Richie. We’re all so proud of you.”

It’s an hour later, and Eddie’s been moved onto Richie’s lap, and all of the losers are lounged on the sofa in the dressing room, just talking and laughing. When Bill and Mike begin telling Stan, Patty, Ben and Bev about their next destination for travelling, Eddie takes that as an opportunity to talk privately with Richie. He slips his hand into Richie’s, immediately getting his attention. “Hey, Rich?”

“What’s up, Eds?”

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Richie looks like he’s about to ask what for, so he continues, “I don’t think I’ll be able to easily come out to people for a while yet, and you talking publicly about us just made everything feel okay, you just made it look so effortless, you know? Makes me believe I’ll be able to do that too, someday.”

Richie’s face brightens like a Christmas tree, and he pressing his palms to Eddie’s cheeks, his fingers going into Eddie’s blonde curls. “You gave me the strength I needed to tell people. I have to say thank you, too, Eds, I love you.”

Eddie curls his hands around Richie’s wrists, holding his hands in place against his face. Then, he leans closer to Richie, like he’s about to tell him a secret, “I want to marry you.” He whispers, his big grey doe eyes looking straight up into Richie’s, completely unwavering. Richie knows he means it.

“I really want to marry you, too.” Richie breathes, “God, I would marry you right this second.” He presses a few needy kisses to Eddie’s mouth. “Once the tour’s over, d’ya wanna get married? I know that’s obviously no time to plan a big wedding but maybe even a small one? I don’t think I could wait long enough to have a big wedding.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie smiles, nods quickly, “That sounds perfect, Richie.” His boyfriend, or apparently now his fiancé, grins, and cups the back of his neck, kissing him eagerly. Eddie reciprocates with just as much enthusiasm, maybe forgetting where they are for a minute and pushing his hands under Richie’s shirt, gripping his love handles, which are one of Eddie’s favourites of Richie’s features, gently. Their lips depart at the sound of the others wolf-whistling, and Eddie gives them the finger.

“Get a room, guys!” Mike chuckles, and Richie scoffs, going in for another kiss just to spite the rest of them. They all laugh, and Richie and Eddie pull away, giggling in the small space between themselves.

“So, we’re really doing this, Eds? We’re gonna get married?” Richie says once the others have gone back to their conversations, and Eddie bits his lower lip to contain his excitement, nods. He smooshes a kiss against Eddie’s cheek, then asks, nuzzling his nose against his jaw, “Do you want to get out of here? Go home?”

Eddie’s cheeks flush erubescent at what’s being implied, “Yeah, okay, let’s go.”

Richie scoops his arms under Eddie’s legs, standing up as Eddie curls his hand around the back of Richie’s neck, the other resting on Richie’s chest. “Alright, losers, Eds and I are gonna take off. I’ll tell Larry out front that you guys can stay as long as you want.” He places Eddie down into his wheelchair, and he walks behind it, holding onto the handles.

“Oh? And what do you need to take off so suddenly for?” Bev smirks, leaning back against the sofa and raising her eyebrows.

“Well, Miss Marsh, if you must know, I’ve got a sweet, sweet appointment with Dr K, here, he’s gonna check me over real nice.” Richie winks, and Eddie scoffs, his face blooming red even further at the words out of Richie’s mouth.

“Rich, please, can we go home? This is embarrassing.” He requests between the hands covering his face, and Richie cacchinates, kissing the crown of his head.

“‘Course we can, honeybun.” They say their goodbyes to the rest of the losers, and no more than fifteen minutes later, they’re falling into bed together, both silently thanking whatever force it was that granted them the fortune of surviving what had come their way upon the reunion of the losers and getting to be together for the rest of their lives.

* * * * *

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[bloodelves88]

Trip to Taipei/Hualien/Taichung/Puli, Taiwan (Part 1)

Part 2 here (Taipei). Part 3 here (Taipei). Part 4 here (Taichung/Puli). Part 5 here (Puli). Part 6 here (Puli/Taichung/Taipei).

Wow, that’s a long title, 😅. Probably the first time I’ve traveled so much in one trip as well. That isn’t my only first. This is the first time I’m traveling overseas without my family (well that’s not really true, since I went on a work-holiday trip last month, but I don’t think I’m counting that). I went with two friends I met during one of my projects in university.

The trip was from 21 August to 28 August. It’s mainly a sightseeing trip, so expect lots of pictures of nature and stuff.

Day 1

The flight was at 8:50am, and I was initially planning to take the MRT there until I realized just before I fell asleep (I was already on my bed) that I can’t actually get any bus to the MRT station at 5:30am. The first bus is around 5:30am, sure, but that’s when the bus leaves its first stop. It would be 6am or later by the time it reaches the bus stop at my house, so that’s a no go. I ended up needing to download the taxi app and paying a lot more. But hey, 45 minutes more sleep.

I brought some bread from home for breakfast, but I still bought an Egg McMuffin from the airport anyway. I was going to fly on Scoot, which serves expensive meals and didn’t allow consumption of outside food.

Not my plane. The one behind with the yellow tail is.

We reached Taoyuan International Airport around 1:40pm, then went to obtain a prepaid SIM card to use for internet. It’s unlimited data for $14 for eight days, so it’s a really good deal. After that, we decided to buy some lunch from the convenience store at the airport since we couldn’t find a proper place to eat. I bought an onigiri, a sweet potato, and a meat bun. This is my first time having convenience store onigiri, and it’s actually pretty good. I also opened the packaging the wrong way 😅. The sweet potato was strange though. It’s really chewy and gummy.

After eating, we headed towards the train station. Then we saw the sign for the food court. Geh.

Day 1 is a day of nothing but traveling, so it was us going to the Taipei Main Station first, then boarding the TRA high speed trains to Hualien.

It was almost 8pm by the time we reached Hualien. Now it’s time to find our lodgings. This trip is the first time I’m staying in places other than a hotel as well. Our first lodging is a bed and breakfast, more commonly known as a B&B. The place we stayed at is called Xiong Zhi Mi (熊之蜜). I have to say I’m pretty impressed - it’s very cozy and it doesn’t really lack anything a hotel has. The benefit of such places is that they don’t have many guests, so they can really focus on providing service and a good experience for you.

There was also something really interesting about the room. Pink lights! 😆

Anyway, we still didn’t have dinner yet, so we went out to look for something to eat. Unfortunately, Hualien is considered a rural place, so the shops were mostly closed by then (around 9pm), and we ended up eating at Family Mart. 

Convenience store food again! It’s not too bad, but the meat is a little hard and dry. I also bought some cut fruits to eat (guava, dragonfruit, oranges, mangoes). The mangoes didn’t taste as mangoey as I’m used to. And guavas aren’t nice. I’ll never like guavas. Then we decided to explore a supermarket nearby. There’s quite a few supermarkets in the vicinity, which thinking about it now, is a little strange. 

I bought two pairs of socks from the supermarket at NT$19 each. The design on the black sock is under the foot. I also saw a farmer’s  straw hat on sale and took a picture of myself wearing one. Not showing it here.

Motorbikes are very prevalent in Taiwan, it seems that there’s motorbike shops anywhere you look, and there’s rows of motorbikes lined up almost everywhere you go. In the bigger cities, the area just before the traffic light is demarcated as a motorbike area. They’re definitely not second class citizens on the road, unlike in Singapore.

Helmets with all sorts of designs are very prevalent in Taiwan.

Day 2

Breakfast was at the first floor of the lodgings. 

Doesn’t look good, but it’s surprisingly filling and doesn’t taste bad at all. I quite like it. Each sandwich stack has four slices of bread, containing lettuce, fried egg, and some strange meat thing. The tea is unfortunately a little too sweet though. It also came with fruits (watermelon and dragon fruits). After breakfast, we stopped by at Family Mart to stock up on some food for lunch. There’s no food where we’re going.

Anyway, our first place to visit in this trip is Taroko Gorge. We headed to Hualien Station to try to catch a bus there. We missed the bus by a few minutes. Then, we got approached by a taxi driver trying to tout their services, but we declined him. A while later, we got approached by another one. This one was quite a bit cheaper (NT$600 vs NT$350 per person), so we started to think about it. We accepted, and the driver went off to find two more people to bring along. I was a little bleh at this since this meant that we had to wait for these two people, or they had to wait for us while we explored Taroko Gorge. The NT$600 driver was a private one catering to just the three of us though, so I guess their cost is about NT$1800 divided among the available passengers.

The taxi stopped at Taroko National Park East Entrance Arch Gate on the way there, where we could buy some snacks and fruits. I wanted to buy a bunch of bananas, but the driver said he bought some for us already. Nice of him to do so :D

Our first stop at Taroko was Shakadang Trail. The taxi parked in Xi La An Tunnel, and off we went!

(map from https://www.taroko.gov.tw/en/Tourism/TrailDetail?id=209)

It’s a 4km trail that follows the river. I think we stopped and turned around about halfway in. The river has very clear blue water, and it’s very pretty.

The trail was mostly cut into the rock like this. It’s easy to walk and very safe.

We walked until we reached some stalls, and there was a sign warning us about the next section being just wilderness. So we decided to head back.

Next, we went onto Xiao Zhui Lu Trail. The entrance is just next to the entrance of Shakadang Trail. 

That red bridge leads to both of the trail’s entrances.

There’s not much to look at in the Xiao Zhui Lu Trail.

I guess the main thing on this trail is this really narrow suspension bridge. Fun 😄

End of this trail, back to the taxi. Next up, Swallow Grotto Yanzikou Trail.

This trail apparently has a risk of rockfalls, so we all had to wear helmets while on this trail.

Looking through my photos, I realize many of them look very strange since there’s no perspective of scale. Ugh.

Example:

Totally looks like random tiny rocks, but I assure you most of those rocks are bigger than you.

Apparently there’s some face-looking thing to see in the above picture. But I’m totally not seeing it.

End of Swallow Grotto Yanzikou Trail. Next up, Baiyang Trail. This trail is about 2km.

This trail also has a risk of rockfalls, but there’s no need to wear a helmet. There’s quite a few tunnels on this trail, and they’re quite dark. It’s possible that there are times you can’t see your hands in front of you sometimes. You’re encouraged to bring a torchlight with you, but it’s not that necessary. There’s the torchlight on your phone if you really need it anyway.

The first kilometer or so is wheelchair and child friendly, so there are actually paved roads. After that, it’s a dirt trail.

Rocks stacked by people. I think these are the rocks from rockfalls. You’ll probably die if hit.

Another suspension bridge. This one is much wider and proper.

This is near the end of the trail. There’s a waterfall inside that tunnel, and it’s very dimly lit. You will get wet. It’s impossible to stay dry in there. There are actually a bunch of raincoats outside, but we didn’t take them for some strange reason. Getting wet was fun anyway 😆

This is the view from the end of the tunnel. The waterfall is just to the right of that bright spot of light inside. It’s not a big waterfall, but it’s loud and cold and wet 😆

Turn 180 degrees. This is the view out of the tunnel. 

End of Baiyang Trail. Next up, Qixingtan Seaside Park. It’s around 5:15pm at this point, and the other two who were sharing our taxi were already waiting for us. Whoops, wonder how long they’ve been waiting.

We reached Qixingtan at 6pm, and the driver only gave us 30 minutes to explore it. It was the end of the day 😅

This place is basically just a beach. The unique thing about this beach is that there’s no sand on it, but there’s pebbles and gravel.

Seems like they were setting up for a night market. We didn’t explore that since it was time to go.

Here’s the places we went in Taroko Gorge.

Time to look for dinner.

While wandering around, we came across a honey tea shop, selling tea drinks that had honey in them. I can’t remember what I bought, but I did buy something. We continued walking, and we came across a pet shop. They were selling hamsters and rabbits, and they were all still very young and very cheap. They’re so cute.

SGD$9 for a rabbit.

We went to a tea house called Wang Tea House. 

I had Zha Jiang Mian, black tea, and green tea pastry.

It’s not bad. But I wouldn’t say it’s very good either. The pastry didn’t even have any green tea taste. 

Thinking about the taxi driver, it would have been a total disaster if we decided to take buses around Taroko Gorge. There was barely any time left after all the activities, and while on the roads, I didn’t see any bus stops, and I only saw one bus. Advice for anyone reading this - take a hired taxi for the whole day. It’s worth it.

The weather was also a lot better than I expected. I expected to be walking under the hot sun, sweating buckets and feeling uncomfortable. None of that was true. The sun was hidden behind clouds, there was ample cool wind, and there were no pesky insects to bother you. I’m not sure if that’s because a typhoon was due to hit Taiwan two days later, but thank goodness for such weather.

After the meal, we walked back to our lodgings. On our way back, I bought a cake that I saw on the previous day while heading towards our lodgings. I was already kind of full, so I kept it in the fridge to eat the next day. 

End of day 2.

Part 2 here (Taipei). Part 3 here (Taipei). Part 4 here (Taichung/Puli). Part 5 here (Puli). Part 6 here (Puli/Taichung/Taipei).

[robininthelabyrinth]

Hole in the Fence (Coldwave with goats) - 2

Fic: Hole in the Fence (ao3 link) - chapter 2/4 Fandom: Flash, DC’s Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Mick Rory/Leonard Snart

Summary: Mick Rory’s life was changed forever by the fire he didn’t escape.

(in which Mick Rory retires, raises goats, and saves the world more than a few times)

WARNINGS: medical procedures, hospitalization, detailed description of injury recovery, emotional trauma, hurt/comfort

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Mick stares.

The goat, perched delicately on Mick’s belly, stares back down.

It is a very small goat. It’s pale white and speckled dove grey all over, except for a darker blotch on its eyes and again right above its tail.

The goat bleats.

It’s a little trilling sound.

Mick blinks.

“Hello to you, too,” he says.

The goat bleats a bit more and headbutts Mick’s face very lightly.

“Oh my god,” a voice says, and a woman rushes in. “I am so sorry.”

Mick blinks. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen this woman before. “Sorry?” he asks.

She points at the goat. “I have no idea how he got out again,” she confesses. “I mean, I know, goats, right? If there’s a hole in the fence, a goat will find it, that’s the saying, but I swear we’ve blocked up all the holes and he’s still managing to end up god only knows where every day.”

“Why is there a goat?” Mick asks. That seems like an important question.

The woman blinks at him. “Oh,” she says. “I’m sorry. My name’s Maple Dzvorak. Please call me Mab. I run the farm.”

“The…farm.”

“Yes,” Mab says. “The farm? Downstairs?” When Mick continues to look blankly at her, she clarifies, “The fully functional dairy farm attached to the land?”

“I did not know that,” Mick says. It does explain the bird noises early in the morning and the grunting animal noises later on; he’d assumed that was some sort of noise machine or local wildlife. “We’re on a farm?”

Mab grins. “Yeah,” she says. “You are. No offense, but I don’t think your Mr. Snart was thinking very rationally when he bought the place. He literally ran in one day, looked at the house and offered us cash for it; I’m pretty sure he was just totally panicking the entire time. Had a wild sort of look in his eyes. Not that I object, of course; I get to keep doing what I do best, which right now is raising goats. We – well, my colleagues, Juanita and Rashid, anyway – sell the milk and the cheese at some of the local farmer’s markets. Any leftovers we’ve got we give to Pre down by old armory, she runs a clinic and knows all the non-corrupt food distribution places.”

“Really?” Mick asks. Mab nods. “That’s cool.”

“Want to come see?” she asks. “I know you’re still convalescing, but if you’d like to help me bring back Houdini here, I’d be happy to show you around, you being half-owner and all.”

Mick transfers himself to his wheelchair and the goat leaps straight into his lap and settles down, regal-like, as if he had been waiting for Mick to get with the program.

Mick snorts.

Arrogant little snot. Reminds him of Len.

“He’s normally more standoffish than that,” Mab observes. “He’s kind of an introvert, except when he’s playing pranks on the other goats.

“Do you actually call him Houdini?” Mick asks her.

“Nah,” she says. “This is the newest batch of kids. We haven’t named ‘em yet. I just thought it fit because he’s always breaking in and out of places where he doesn’t belong, and making stupid jumps from one place to another and somehow making them. You have something in mind?”

“Yeah,” Mick says. “I’m calling this one Boss.”

Mab arches her eyebrows.

“It fits, trust me,” Mick assures her.

“You’re the –” she pauses, making Mick smirk because he knows she was about to say ‘boss’. “– owner.”

“What does that mean, anyway?” Mick asks. He has no idea what someone who owns a farm actually does. His parents were farmers, but it's been a long time since he was eleven.

“Well, we weren’t exactly doing that well financially,” Mab says wryly. “Still aren’t. The family before you bought this place to make it into a farm because they thought it was ‘cute’, but it turned out they didn’t like it all that much. Too much dirt, not enough cute. And that was bad, because we’re not self-sustaining yet, so losing their support would mean we lose the farm. We looked for someone else to rent out the place to – the rent being how we planned to keep the farm running for a little longer.”

“And we’re the renters?”

“No,” Mab says patiently. “Mr. Snart showed up one day, asked about wheelchair accessibility, and bought the whole place – house, farm, everything – in a glorious, glorious amounts of cash, then told me to just keep doing what I’m doing. Is he likely to keep up with that, do you think?”

“Yeah, he doesn’t care,” Mick says. “Carry on and so on.”

Mab wheels him down to the porch.

Mick wonders for a moment if this is a very well-thought-out kidnapping, but no. The goat is just too weird to be anything other than real.

Sure enough, there are goats outside.

Actual goats.

A good number of them, too.

Mick is impressed, right up until one of little ones – even littler than the one sitting on his lap – barrels up the porch stairs and head-butts his shin.

Hard.

“If you were any bigger, that might have hurt,” Mick tells the goat. It’s even smaller than Boss.

The goat just headbutts him again. Then headbutts Mab and the door, too, for good measure.

“This one’s the runt,” Mab says, trying to hide a smile. “Makes up for it by being willing to fight literally anything at any time.”

“Good goat,” Mick says, smiling a little. He likes headbutting people, too.

Boss jumps down and nuzzles the little goat, which headbutts him, but lightly, and then nuzzles back. Then they go prancing off, Boss in the lead and the littler goat happily leaping from side to side in Boss’ wake.

“Fights anything, you say?” Mick says, watching them.

“Anything, everything, everyone,” Mab confirms. “Especially anyone who gets in, ah, Boss’ way. They’re inseparable.”

“I’m calling that one Mick,” Mick decides. “Or Mickey, anyway, till he’s grown.”

Mab shakes her head. “She. And don’t you dare name all of them,” she warns. “Some are for selling as breeding stock, not milk.”

“I’ll keep it limited,” Mick lies.

“Mick,” Shlomit calls, coming out through the porch door. “I didn’t know you were coming outside.”

Little Mickey turns on a heel and zips back up the stairs to headbutt her, too.

“Nice,” Mick says approvingly. “Go, Mickey.”

Mickey bleats proudly, then goes to rejoin Boss in the field.

“Did you just attack me with a goat?” Shlomit asks, looking amused. “You have attack goats, now?”

“Mickey’s a good little fighter,” Mick says.

“'Mickey' is a girl,” Mab says.

“So?”

Mab considers for a moment, then shrugs. “Have it your way,” she says. “Shlomit, can he stay out? I wanted to show him the farm.”

“Only if we put sunscreen on first,” Shlomit says firmly, but in the end Mick gets his tour.

They have a fair sized herd of goats. They get fed and graze and after a bit of watching, Mick asks Mab, “Doesn’t the food affect how their cheese tastes?”

“Yeah,” Mab says. “I’m hoping to experiment when we have a bit more money – maybe partitioning them off or something? – but we’re not quite there yet. Here, let me introduce you to our crew – they help with the milking and the cheese process –”

Len comes back that evening.

“I just got headbutted by a goat,” he says, looking bemused.

“Did you now?” Mick asks innocently.

“I wouldn’t have commented on it, except that I’m informed that they’re your, uh, attack goats now.”

“Yep,” Mick says, lacing his fingers together and leaning back in his wheelchair with a satisfied smirk.

Len looks him dead in the eye. “Mick,” he says, sounding serious.

Mick’s smirk disappears. “What?”

“Next time, you need to tell me before you adopt any kids.”

It takes a few seconds for the pun to hit and then Mick groans and puts his head in his hands while Len laughs his goddamn ass off.

“You’re a dick,” Mick grouses as Len wipes the tears out of his eyes. “It wasn’t even that funny.”

“Your face was that funny.”

“Fuck you. I thought you wanted to say something serious!”

Len sits down, still sniggering.

Boss noses his way into the room, closely followed by Mickey. Mickey immediately goes straight to Len, who immediately scoops her up to sit on his lap.

She noses around his lap a little and then makes herself at home, while Boss starts casing the room.

“I like this one,” Len says, petting Mickey. “Good goat. Fierce goat. Yes you are.”

“She is, that,” Mick says. “Fights anything she sees. Headbutts anything and everyone.”

“I like her,” Len declares. “This one’s my favorite.”

Mick hides a smile.

“I like that, too,” Len says.

“Like what?”

“You seem – happier. Today. You’ve been down recently.”

Mick arches his eyebrows. “We actually talking about this? Thought we didn’t do feelings.”

“Ji-hyun threatened to light me on fire if we didn’t,” Len admits cheerfully. “And she says you’ve taught her everything she knows about arson.”

“Aww,” Mick says. “She remembers all that? Best shrink ever.”

“She’s pretty tough.”

“You should see her.”

Len makes a face.

“I’m telling you,” Mick says. This is an old argument. “Going a few times won’t hurt anyone.”

“I’ll think about it,” Len says, instead of his usual ‘it hurts me’ rebuttal.

Mick arches his eyebrows.

Len shrugs. “I’ve had some issues recently,” he says. “Recurring and inconveniently timed panic attacks. Maybe seeing a shrink isn’t the end of the world.”

“No, it definitely is,” Mick says. “Leonard Snart agreeing to go see a shrink? Definitely a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Fuck off,” Len says, but pleasant and friendly-like. “So what’s going on? Ji-hyun says you barely talk to her about anything, Shlomit is about ten seconds away from suggesting even more pills, and you’ve been acting –” He hesitates.

“Like a dick?” Mick offers.

“Like you’ve finally figured out that you don’t want me around anymore,” Len says. His knuckles are white, Mick notices, wrapped around the edges of the chair; little Mickey is nosing at his wrist anxiously.

It takes a few seconds for Len’s words to sink in.

“Wait,” Mick says, because what even, “me not want you around anymore?!”

Len nods stiffly. He’s as tense as a tightly wound spring.

“Why?”

“It was my idea,” Len bursts out. “That stupid fucking job in Shreveport – I was the one who wanted to go, I was the one who should’ve cased the place better –”

“Are you still beating yourself up about that?” Mick asks, amazed. “Jesus, Len. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.”

“You got burned,” Len says, and his eyes aren’t focusing right. He’s looking at a memory, not at Mick. “You burned, Mick – you were screaming –”

Mick feels a stab of regret. “You always knew I wanted to burn in the end,” he says gruffly, trying to cover it up.

“I always thought I’d be there by your side,” Len says. “Not watching.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep, shuddering breath.

Mick frowns, watching him. This whole thing, it hit Len bad; much worse than Mick had noticed. This isn’t like Len, who hates his emotions and tries to avoid them when possible.

This isn’t Len trying to cut things off. This is Len off-balance, unsteady, making stupid decisions and sticking with them out of stubbornness, shaking and hurting and Mick’s only ever seen him like this when –

“Is Lisa okay?” Mick asks.

Len gives him a look. “She’s fine,” he says. “Where’d that even come from?”

Mick didn’t really doubt it, but it makes him feel funny inside, that Len can be knocked off his feet so bad by something happening to Mick in the same way as with Lisa. Mick would’ve said that Lisa was the only person Len really loved, before today.

Today he thinks – really believes, for the first time – that maybe Lisa’s not the only one Len loves.

“You’re not planning on ditching me,” he says softly. Len doesn’t give up on people he loves, not ever; that’s why he loves so few of them.

“Ditching you?” Len exclaims, opening his eyes and looking offended. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“I’m no use to you now, am I?” Mick points out gently. “Shlomit says my recovery could take – it’s not months, Lenny. It’s years. Between my beat-up lungs and my beat-up arms, I don’t know how long it’ll be before I can stand by your side again, if ever.”

“So what?” Len says challengingly. “I don’t give a damn about that.”

“You don’t carry dead weight.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t just use you for your muscle, Mick; you’re my partner. You do so much more than that.”

Mick scowls.

“You do,” Len insists. “You keep an eye on the crew –”

“They’d stab you in the back otherwise,” Mick grumbles. “You have terrible judgment of people. Remember Charlie?”

“– you keep me from doing anything too dumb –”

“As much as possible.”

“– and you keep me from going over the line,” Len finishes. He rubs at his eyes. He looks so tired, suddenly, the bags under his eyes coming into clear relief. Mick doesn’t know what Len does all day, but he bets it has something to do with how Len’s been spending money like it grows on trees. Len’s stash isn’t endless. “It’s not the way it was before, without you. I’ve worked without you before, when we split up, but I was always angry, then. I knew I’d get you back eventually and I worked every job thinking I’ll show him the whole damn time. But this time I know exactly where you are, and why you’re not with me, and it’s my goddamn fault.”

“It ain’t your fault, Len,” Mick says again. “You saw the flames and ran out; I didn’t.”

“It’s my job,” Len says firmly. “My job, my crew; it’s on me to get everyone out. I know about you and fire, Mick; me better than anyone else in the world, except maybe Ji-hyun. I should’ve prioritized getting you out of there. I should’ve figured out ahead of time that that warehouse would go up so quick.”

“You can’t plan for everything.”

“I should’ve run in to get you out,” Len says.

Mick frowns. “You did,” he says. He remembers that. Len had dragged him out, half the way, ditching only when he saw the ambulances coming.

“Not soon enough,” Len says. “Third degree burns could’ve been two. The smoke that fucked over your lungs – you wouldn’t have breathed so much in, if I hadn’t run out after some pointless yelling. I should’ve realized I needed to get you out some other way.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mick says. “I’m serious. I don’t blame you.”

Len smiles humorlessly. “You should.”

“I don’t, and I���m not gonna,” Mick says firmly. “You don’t get to pick who I blame.”

Len shakes his head a little. “Fine,” he says. “Then you don’t get to get rid of me, either, even if you think it’s for my own good.”

Len’s always been a perceptive little shit.

“Fine,” Mick says. “But what am I gonna do now? I've got nothing except being an arsonist and some crew's muscle, other than being your partner. What do I do?”

Len shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know,” he says. “I’ll start planning my jobs here again, if you want to tell me I’m dumb during the planning stages.”

“You’d better plan them here,” Mick says, alarmed by the idea that Len has been planning some of his more ridiculous stupid-ass stunts without him.

“I don’t know what else.” Len frowns. “What about the kitchen?”

Mick frowns in return. “What about the kitchen?”

“Well, you like cooking, don’t you?” Len says, like he hasn’t voraciously devoured everything Mick’s ever made him (except for the greens) for nearly two decades.

“What’ve you been eating?” Mick asks, suddenly suspicious. The answer had better not be ‘fast food’.

“Hospital cafeteria meals, mostly.”

That’s worse.

“Fine,” Mick says. “I’ll cook for you again.”

“We’ll need to renovate the kitchen,” Len says. “Adaptive stuff.”

“More ovens,” Mick says automatically. He’s always wanted to renovate a kitchen to his liking. He has feelings about appliances.

“You ain't even seen the kitchen!”

“You always need more ovens.”

“Fine,” Len says. “More ovens. I’ll call a guy. But this is coming out of your stash.”

Mick smiles.

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“Is there any reason not to try roses?” Mick asks, picking Bumblebee, the newest runt in the litter and Mickey’s newest playmate, off the floor before she eats the rug. “They eat the neighbor’s patch all the goddamn time whether we want them too or not.”

“I mean, I guess,” Mab says, frowning thoughtfully. “It wouldn’t be that hard to keep track of the ones that eat nowhere else and segregate their cheese…okay, I have to know. I know you well enough by this point. What recipe are you thinking?”

“Taillevent mentioned a rose-tinted pottage...”

“Hah! I knew you had a reason!”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I was also thinking we could vary the type of rennet we use,” Mick says. He lays out the plan he’s been working on - done up like Len's blueprints - and points to the various boxes he’s created. “See, I don’t know if it’ll have any effect, but I was listening to a book that said that vegetable or animal-based makes a difference in the –”

“Can we go back to stealing stuff?” Len bitches from where he’s lying face-down on the couch.

“No,” Mick says. “Also, you’re reading me the next two chapters of that book tonight, so don’t smother yourself before then.”

“Uuuuuuugh.”

“He’s just bitter that his last job just finished and he’s bored again already,” Mick tells Mab. Len enforces the lying low part of a job as strictly as he does the rest, but what he’d never let on to his crews is that he really, really hates it, too.

Mick’s happy, though; it means Len will be spending the next few weeks here.

“I’m just happy you’re not Family affiliated criminals,” Mab says dryly. “It’s Central: I’ll accept criminals, but a girl has got to draw the line somewhere.”

“Speaking of lines,” Mick asks, putting Bumblebee down. She prances over to Len. They all love Len, every one of them. “How are Billy and Nanny T. Goat settling in?”

Mab groans.

Len sniggers into his couch cushion.

“This is your fault,” Mick informs him.

“Yeah, I know,” Len says. “But I couldn’t just leave them there!”

Mick rolls his eyes. “You didn’t have to drop them off and run away without explanation.”

“There was no explanation!” Len protests.

“No,” Mab says tartly. “There is no explanation for giving a goat farm a gift in the form of two baby alpacas.”

“They were malnourished and sad,” Len says firmly. “That wealthy idiot wanted them as pets, but just shoved them in a room and basically forgot about them. They were baaing softly in sadness. I regret nothing.”

Mab sighs. “Well,” she says, “they were babies and babies bounce back pretty well. That being said, they’re being raised by the goats, so they definitely think they’re goats now. Those names didn’t help.”

“Boss adopted ‘em,” Mick says with satisfaction.

Len grumbles. He’s still never entirely forgiven Mick for naming the goat after him, especially when Mick points out that Boss’s tendency to run jail-breaks from just about anywhere and also the fact that he’s more or less taken over the flock despite being only a couple of years old are really quite similar to their namesake’s own actions.

The fact that Mickey never grew all that big and ended up being the smallest, fiercest goat in the entire herd has only mollified that annoyance slightly.

“That’s going to be interesting in a few years,” Mab sighs. “But sure, let’s talk rennet.”

“You know what,” Len says, sitting up. “I’m going to go steal a diamond.”

“You’re doing no such thing.”

“I am too! There’s one coming in to Central City museum. I saw a flyer earlier today.”

“Do you have a reason to steal a diamond?”

“Yeah,” Len says. “Not being here to discuss rennet. I know what that’s made of.”

Mick snorts and wheels over to the couch just to smack Len.

He doesn’t need the wheelchair all the time anymore, just on days like today, when his joints start acting up and everything is sore. Shlomit has returned to her day job, though she checks in once a week to run him through his PT and OT exercises because she doesn’t trust him. Mick’s pretty sure Len pays her for doing it, though he doesn’t think there’s an official contract or anything.

Mick still needs the massages and the lotion on a daily basis, which Len manages with the fierce regularity of the drill sergeant that secretly lives in his head even if his hands are always gentle; and Mick slathers on sunscreen like a dying man before going out for a regular day out on the farm. Mab and the rest of the workers have strict orders to watch him to make sure that he doesn’t overdo it, because he has collapsed from heatstroke from exercising too hard – turns out the body’s ability to sweat is really quite crucial to things like exercise or even sitting around, if the day is hot enough. He’s got some gait issues left over, which he’s usually fine with, though some days call for a cane and others for crutches or the chair; his legs have never quite uncurled the full way out, though Disha has looked him over and declared that it’s as good as modern surgery can get him.

The carbon monoxide poisoning did come back to kick his ass with a pneumonia infection that recurs every year, but on the other hand, the damage that happened to his kidneys – Disha uses cheerful terms like ‘tubular necrosis’ and ‘acute renal failure’ which make Len go white-lipped and distant – has basically gone away for good.

The brief relapse he had into what Disha called ‘burn delirium’ is best never discussed. He never gets back most of the memories he had of the weeks leading up to the job that went wrong, but Len informs him they were pretty boring anyway – typical job lead-up.

Len is in fact seeing a therapist at long last, one that Ji-hyun recommended after her initial session with him. Apparently, Len does as well with tough old Jewish ladies as Mick does with equally tough old Korean ladies.

They apparently spend about 10 minutes criticizing each other’s family at the start of each session, just to get into the mood.

All in all, Mick isn’t actually unhappy with his life right now. Sure, he misses the game - the local biker gang is happy to indulge him in bar fights, which helps with the excitement and violence even if he suspects they're not going all in, and Len has established a tough-as-nails reputation that is starting to be scarily bloodthirsty but at least keeps him safe – but he likes what he’s doing now, too.

The dairy farm is doing well, he’s named every single one of the goats, and he goes into Central three times a week to sell at the farmer’s markets, with Juanita and Rashid taking the opportunity to search out new markets further afield like they’ve always wanted to.

He cooks for Len, who comes home every day he can, and Lisa whenever she’s in the area. Mab, Shlomit, and Disha are all regular invitees, and the goats – led by Boss, as always – make regular incursions into the household to try to eat some of Mick’s cooking. Len’s trickier than the goats, though, so he’s set up a system of sweet-smelling boxes for the goats to find that makes them feel like they’ve accomplished something while maintaining Mick’s strict diets for each of them.

Life is pretty good.

Of course, Mick would be a disgrace to his Irish heritage if he wasn’t inherently suspicious of such things.

So when he flicks on the TV not a month after Len’s decision to go steal a diamond and finds Len fighting a bolt of lightning, he’s almost not surprised.

The news starts by reporting a scuffle on the transit, people with liquid nitrogen; that sounds like Len. They mention a Streak – helpfully, they give a short summary of what’s known about it, which is literally nothing but conspiracy theories – and the next thing they report is a fight in a movie theater.

There are pictures – crappy, cell-phone recordings – of Len using some sort of futuristic gun that freezes anything it touches.

And then –

Well.

He waits until Len gets home – a train! He jumped off a train! What the fuck?! – to say anything.

Len slinks into the house like a man with a guilty conscience, and he jumps near a foot in the air when Mick clears his throat from where he’s sitting on the couch, his arms crossed, his eyes narrowed in a glare.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Len says.

“You mean you hoped.”

“…you saw the news.”

“I saw the news.”

“I got you a present?” Len offers.

Mick arches his eyebrows. “If it’s a diamond, I told you years ago, I don’t want one. I’m not that type of floozy.”

Len snorts. “Yeah, no. It’s this.”

‘This’ turns out to be a gun. A gun that works on principles of heat, everything from a flamethrower to a tight laser of heat so hot it melts metal.

Mick loves it on sight.

“You want me by your side?” he asks, examining it. He’ll take it apart, later; he’ll figure out how it works. He’ll know every inch of it, backwards and forwards, soon enough. He’ll do the same for Len’s cold gun – he’s always been the more mechanically minded of the two of them. He might not read the way Len does, he might not talk the way Len does, but he can make a machine sing under his hands.

“No,” Len says, and it doesn’t even hurt anymore when he says it, because Mick might not be able to stand by Len when he goes on crazy missions anymore, but Mick’s the one Len comes home to every day when he can, and he’s the one Len defers to on the craziness of a given mission. Len doesn’t trust himself, not all the way, not since the fire; Mick is his reminder not to let the ice in his veins freeze him solid.

“Then what’s it for?”

Len’s smile quirks up. “It’s a bribe,” he says. “For helping me plan out how to beat a superhero.”

“So it’s a hero, then?”

“Just a man,” Len confirms. “With a bleeding heart.”

Mick grins. “My favorite.”

[csolarstormhealthjournal]

Here’s a vent.

Ughh.  Okay, I’m going to start from yesterday.  This electric wheelchair that I’m using almost 24/7 because I only have one seat between my two chairs - well it turns out the right motor is giving out.  That’s what the tech that they sent down said.  My normal tech never said anything about maintaining the motors.  He was too busy fixing the control arm, the seat, the seatbelt, now the missing button, and getting me the tray that was supposed to come with it from the beginning.  I told this new tech that the chair randomly stopped at my cousin’s wedding, and he said I should have said something, because it was covered under warranty back then, but now it’s too late, and it will take months to bill the insurance.

Well isn’t that something!  You mean to tell me ALL OF THIS STUFF happened to the chair in THE FIRST YEAR and my normal tech didn’t even mention the warranty?!

These are my legs!  Why doesn’t anyone help me?!

Why didn’t anyone just take a second look at what was going on and help me?

I need some opportunity to get out of the house because I don’t have school, and now I have to do it with a chair that could just randomly stop working at any time.  I’m afraid for my safety, but I can’t just stay in this house, I HAVE to go out there alone sometimes.

It could take months to go through the insurance and authorize this!  If it stopped during the procession at Michelle’s wedding, what if it stops during my graduation march?

Why doesn’t anyone intervene here?  I mean, I know why, but...why?!

It’s even harder to connect with club this quarter than it was last quarter because I’m barely going to CalPoly at ALL now, and somehow I’m going to run for Vice President, because the current Vice wants me to, even though I’m still speaking to everyone in almost entirely in small talk and platitudes.  I wanted to take them some hummus for the meeting, because one time they were talking about the hummus at the Farmer’s Market and it was something I tried before, something I understood and thought I could share.  But it went completely wrong.

I didn’t even go to the Market myself because I was sick the night before with a temperature (something which is likely still bringing me down) and didn’t feel like I could sleep, so Dorothy went and got some the next day.  When I asked about it on Facebook, Manda said it would be great to have hummus, and she’d ask someone else to bring chips.  I knew, I knew this wouldn’t work out and I should still bring chips, but I still felt weird and I accidentally doubled my pain med dose on Monday night, so I felt weird about reminding anyone about it on Facebook.  In general, I was just being asocial about it.  Consequently, I was just completely anxious on the way to the meeting and it turned out my suspicions were right that Manda wouldn’t remember anything without a reminder.  In fact the guy she said was going to bring the chips didn’t come.

So I was like, “Should I go get chips?”  “Uhh...”  I mean, it was my idea, so why I was asking her, I don’t know.  I just wanted to have chips in my little effort pitch in in some way before I ran for vice president next week.  But she said “Yeah” so I went to go get some.

On my way back with some veggie chips that I hoped would be okay, I realized there would be no way to distribute the hummus without plates, and the hour was halfway over.  This was all useless, I would just have to save the hummus and these weird makeshift chips and try again next week.  Great. 

On the way back, I dropped my drink, ran over the lid and cracked it, and most of it spilled all over the ground.  That was the drink that was supposed to help me relax, because I was really, really stressed, as if it was the second week of school.  So I just drank whatever didn’t spill.  In my effort to find a recycle bin, I cut in front of a random non-marching marching band that was filming in front of the music building for some reason.   I’m probably on their recording now in my rickety little wheelchair.  Ya’ know, I was just determined not to let this whole snafu get to me, but that was because it already got to me, or I wouldn’t be venting.

But at that point I tried to hide it well, so I just zipped up the chips in my backpack and returned to the meeting like nothing happened.  Nobody cared.  Manda didn’t ask about the hummus.  The meeting itself was pretty fun, with Dr. Kraemer giving us some rhetorical riddles, even if it was a little marred by my own little drama.  

I’m going to try to prepare better for next week, because I’m nothing if not persistent.  If I have to, I’ll just pack everything we would need including the plates - hell maybe I’ll take individual dipping bowls! - and just use whatever I need when I get to the meeting. 

[disabilitythinking]

Disability & Food: Results and Conclusions

120 people completed my online Disability & Food survey. That's a pretty good number, and the final results look pretty much the same as they have looked all along, which suggests they aren't just random. I don't know that I have any stunning conclusions, but let's see the results and explore what they might mean.

Question 1 "How often do you have the following kinds of meals?"

Results:

Home prepared and cooked (strongly weighted) Cooked and prepared by someone else Frozen dinners Home delivery or take-out Eating out at restaurants School, college, or workplace cafeteria Meal kits by mail Meals provided in a residential facility

Respondent comments:

Home prepared once & ate for a few days like lasagna- often

Eat what's ready: fruit, chips, etc. Also try to cook batch like soup, stew, etc that'll last for days. I forget to eat & cooking for 1 when can only eat 1/2 cup at a time takes more energy & pain than it's worth.

I live alone.

Medical Formula, by mail

I work at a restaurant and very often scrounge from food orders that were messed up or good that is made specifically for the crew to eat. Plus I get an employee discount. But then there are days when I am too tired mentally/physically or in too much pain to expend energy making something myself. I really need to invest in a good delivery service. Recently I've invested in a business that will send you meal cups in the mail (like 24 at a time) and you just need to add water. I got them thru Amazon. I know I spend too much money on eating out but it often simplifies things, as well as cleanup.

My partner does the cooking now that my physical health has deteriorated further.

The majority of what I eat is probably "snack" food. My condition uses up a lot of salt, so I eat a lot of salty potato chips and gatorade. Otherwise it's stuff I can either open up and eat directly (cheese sticks, canned olives, jerky, etc) or stuff that requires a quick zap in the microwave (pre-cooked sausages, gluten-free corn dogs, leftovers from a restaurant, etc)

I am celiac, so I prepare most of my own food so that I do not get gluten-ed.

I frequently eat shelf-stable food that doesn't need to be refrigerated because I know that sometimes I won't be able to leave my room. So I stock up on things like granola bars and beef jerky a lot of the time.

What I can and can't eat, and thus how my food must be processed and prepared, is a huge part of my disability. I eat "frozen dinners" and packets of things I can heat in the microwave, but they all have to be prepared in my home from scratch, a few exceptions of specific brands of things in cans or boxes.

Only recently started cooking at home so much -- started treatment for my undiagnosed ADHD in November at age 45. Now I can more easily plan to cook and get the right items purchased in advance, and make time to prepare it. I've wasted a lot of emotions and food over the years on good intentions and poor implementation.

Refrigerated, microwaveable meals Microwaveable boxed pantry meals

i mostly eat food that i get from the grocery store and that comes out of the package edible... like bread. or fruit. everything else, i cannot prepare

I get the majority of my groceries via grocery delivery service. I assumed that counts as home delivery but wasn't sure. That being said, while I do my own cooking, my mobility tends to dictate how elaborate my meal will be. Not that my meals are really that elaborate lol but how much spoon / labor will be involved. For an example, my kitchen is not fully wheelchair accessible, and so if I want to reach certain cabinets etc., I need to be able to get up out of my chair. So there are times, I just don't have access to certain foods in my kitchen and will eat whatever I can reach. For this reason, I very very rarely use the stove. Me and the oven are BFFs though lol

Thoughts:

I was surprised to see home preparation and cooking pretty far in the lead. I guess I assumed that disabled people would be less likely to do their own home cooking than most.

If you look a little deeper, you see that even though home cooking came out on top, only 40% say they do it all or most of the time, and most respondents seem to rely on a roughly even mix of home cooking, cooking done by someone else, frozen dinners, and delivery / take-out.

Several respondents note in their comments that they rely heavily on home cooking because of very specific dietary needs related to their disabilities. This is a wrinkle that I had not anticipated at all, probably because I have never had any health or allergy-related food restrictions myself. Nor am I a vegetarian. In fact, I've only recently started to think much at all about the quality or healthiness of my diet. I'm not sure if that's a privilege or a liability.

One thing that promoted me to set up this survey is the recent popularity ... at least in the media I consume ... of home delivered meal kit subscriptions, like Blue Apron and Hello Fresh. So, it's interesting that this option got the next to lowest score of the 8 options I offered. Maybe it's the high cost. For me, it's because the recipes all sound too fancy and hipster for my tastes. In all of the ads I've heard for these services, I have never yet heard a described recipe that sounded appetizing to me. Besides, they sound convenient, but probably still require a lot of labor before you can actually chow down.

Q2 Sources: "How often do you get your food from the following?"

Supermarkets (very strongly weighted) Someone else shops for you Delivery from online shopping sites Neighborhood markets or farmer's markets Convenience stores Delivery from local stores

Respondent comments:

I V fluids via medical supply

I interpreted 'online shopping sites' to include online supermarket ordering and delivery.

Where your questions only go down to almost never it's actually never which you haven't got

Protein powder online. Shopping is usually once a month. Buy to last. Maybe occasional trip out. Shopping is painful.

I shop for my own groceries.

Due to coordination, vision limitations I cannot use the apps/smartphone/do financial transactions on smartphone or computer, which prevents me from shopping online and most delivery places. I often go hungry as a result.

Grow my own food - very often

Local non chain shops, butcher, fishmonger , greengrocer ( fruit, veg & healthy groceries e.g.. GF products, ) good quality and locally grown organic produce etc quality breads, sheep/goat yoghurt etc.

The only money I have for buying groceries is my food stamps, so I'm very limited in where I can buy food. If I eat out it's always my partner paying.

I am celiac, so I prepare most of my own food so that I do not get gluten-ed.

Staff take him shopping

I live in a city with multiple food coops. I shop there most often, but no one store carries all the foods I need in a week. Food shopping involves stops at two to four stores a trip. I do not drive and public transport is inaccessible to me. I need rides for all of this.

Thoughts:

Supermarket shopping comes out on top, by a very wide margin. Again, that surprises me. I probably should have added a question or two about transportation and geography though. Most people consider supermarkets the best and most economical place to get groceries, but I wonder how many disabled people can't use them easily because they live in places without supermarkets and lack transportation to get to them.

The next two most heavily weighted categories ... someone shopping for you and takeout / delivery ... both rely on others, and probably also can be done without leaving home. These are the kinds of options that one would expect to be popular among disabled people. But again, they're not as heavily relied upon as one might conventionally predict.

Respondent comments bring up diet restrictions here, too, but also limited income and physical inaccessibility as factors that shape and restrict how people get their food supplies.

Q3 Disabilities: "Which category(s) best describe your type of disability? (check any that apply)"

97 with physical disabilities 51 with mental health disabilities 31 with sensory disabilities 20 with other cited disabilities 19 with cognitive disabilities 15 with learning disabilities

Respondent comments:

developmental disorder

Language

Severe food, environmental (including inhalant) allergies--often requiring hospitalization

Autism

Autism (unsure where to put that)

Eyes fatigue easily, and after many years of difficulty and little help due to invisibility of my disability (which is TBI) I am exhausted and don't h ave energy for interacting with others, constantly teaching, explaining etc. since no one understands.

chronic illness

In addition to mobility disability, have medical conditions affecting diet

hearing loss, food allergies

health disability, autistic

Autism, then not listed above- 1 of my kids is autistic, one has Down syndrome, both have anaphylactic food allergies, I have a medical concern that requires me to eat a totally different diet than my partner and kids

Visual

Autistic with sensory sensitivities, IBS, Coeliac, Lactose intolerant, Hypothyroidism, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Cancer survivor surviving radical surgery, heavy duty chemo, radiotherapies, Restless legs Syndrome, insomnia, and more, GAD

Food allergies play a major role in my eating/shopping habits

not sure where autism goes in here. also chronic illnesses

Chronic pain/traumatic brain injury

Autistic, and irritable Bowel Syndrome and PCOS. Not a fun combo.

Chronic illness- asthma

Medical conditions

Type 1 diabetes

Thoughts:

I probably should have included a few more disability types, since there is a lot of overlap and ambiguity among these very broad, generic categories ... particularly mental health, cognitive, and learning disabilities. I also wish I had added a chronic illness category for people with conditions that more readily fall into that category.

On the other hand, I think allowing people to choose more than one category means we get a pretty good picture of who is responding, and the vast majority of respondents had some kind of physical disabilities, sometimes along with others.

So?

Those are the survey results, in detail and summary. But what about my shopping and eating habits?

I do most of my grocery shopping online with delivery by mail. I order once a month. I've only been doing this for about 4 months though. Before that, I shopped at a supermarket about once a month, and picked up things at convenience stores here and there. Even though I drive, my shopping was definitely too irregular, physically difficult, and unnecessarily expensive.

Before I started grocery shopping online, my biggest problem was getting fresh fruit and vegetables, buying household supplies in bulk, and getting anything large or heavy ... like big bottles of milk, juice, or soda, or big bags of sugar (for my twice daily tea).

I eat frozen dinners about half the time. A quarter of the time I eat take-out, and another quarter is conventional home cooking.

Speaking of fruit ... and the mini-controversy last year about whether selling pre-cut or packaged fruit is wasteful or accessible ... I do buy pre-cut fruit and bagged salad, as well as large boxes of single-serve fruit cups.

http://www.npr.org/sections/thesalt/2016/03/07/469521879/pre-peeled-oranges-what-some-call-lazy-others-call-a-lifesaver

I often think about these new meal kits by mail services, but I never seriously consider them because they are expensive. And anyway, their big selling point seems to be that you don't have to worry about ingredients or portion sizes. I used to have that kind of problem, but at this point I know pretty much what I will and won't actually prepare and eat. For me it's not hard to figure out. But for others it might be more of a thing.

Conclusions:

I don't really have any, except for this:

If I had unlimited power and resources to make one radical change in American society, I sometimes think I would institute free public breakfast buffets. Two things make me think about this:

TV shows about the British upper class, where everyone just comes to the dining room in the morning and the servants have laid out a full range of breakfast foods on a big sideboard.

Motel chains that offer free breakfast.

My life would improve enormously if I could easily got to a big breakfast buffet every morning and just dish up a plate of whatever looked good. You could do the same thing with lunches or dinners, but for me, breakfast is the thing. I love breakfast food, but it tends to be labor intensive, and my body is at its worst in the morning. It's the time I need good food the most, and am least equipped to prepare it.

What new kinds of food or shopping services would improve your life and independence? What changes have you made in this area that have made a difference in your life? Are these strictly matters of individual planning and innovation, or are there larger-scale systemic changes that would be both feasible and helpful to disabled people?

Share more of your comments below! And thanks for helping with this survey!