#wildlife for existing and trying to eat in the land you keep cutting down and killing even more of their food options

[eryiss]

Summary: Freed and Gajeel were total opposites in every way, only connected by the guild. When they were forced to train together under Makarov's orders, they expected antagonism and mistrust. Instead, they were given a lesson in how quickly opposition can turn to attraction. The issue: let the budding relationship simmer away, or let it explode. [Freed x Gajeel Multi-chapter]

Notes: Hey everyone. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Get ready for some conflict, and two stubborn men refusing to admit their faults. Hope you enjoy it.

Links: FFN, Ao3, Chapter List

Chapter Two - Teething Trouble

Day One: Monday

The further they trudged into the forest, the more Freed understood what Gajeel was going to put him through. In a word: Survival.

He should have guessed by the way Gajeel had treated him before they'd left magnolia that the antagonism shared between them would be a factor in the week. Gajeel had immediately told him to leave his bags at home - "You're only gonna need the clothes on yer back, city boy." - and had taken every opportunity to call Freed 'fragile' and 'spoiled'. Clearly, he thought that Freed was a man unused to roughing it, and who had spent his life in luxury.

To put it simply, Gajeel hadn't planned a training exercise. He had planned three days of pushing Freed to his limits, trying to break him and expose his supposed weakness. No doubt the following three days would be filled with pointless physical labour and an excess of exaggerated survivalist exercises,

Freed found it oddly exciting; he would enjoy proving the idiot wrong.

"Heads up," Gajeel grunted, letting go of a branch he'd pushed aside, clearly intending to let it hit Freed. Freed, being a trained mage with refined reflexes, caught the branch before it struck him. Gajeel saw, his lips twitched down slightly. "Hm."

"Are you intending to be obnoxious," Freed asked, boot squelching in the mud. "Or is that just your personality?"

"Not enjoying yourself, city-boy?"

"You've hardly proven yourself to be a conversationalist, have you?" Freed mused, climbing the small verge of grass that Gajeel was guiding him to. "And so far, rather than training of any kind, you've decided to take me on a walk around the forest and not much else."

"We're nearly there," Gajeel grunted. "And maybe if ya shut yer trap I'd be better company."

"You're quite defensive, I do hope I didn't strike a nerve," Freed hummed, wanting to annoy the man. "If simply insulting your plans has gotten your hackles raisen so quickly, then you've got thinner skin than I had expected."

"I've got thin skin?" Gajeel scoffed. "Sure."

That was the entirety of the conversation shared between the two men for the morning. The forest Gajeel had chosen for them to walk through was one unfamiliar to Freed, and as such he couldn't be sure if he was being taken a direct route to wherever Gajeel was taking him, or if he had been walking in circles for Gajeel to test his stamina and ability to cross a wooded area. They'd seen the same stream a few times, at different places, so Freed was fairly sure that they weren't going the most direct route.

Only when the sun was high in the sky did Gajeel decide to stop walking. Though he wouldn't say it, Freed's as thankful for the rest, as his legs were starting to complain. He looked around where they had paused to see what Gajeel considered a good stopping point,

Gajeel was obnoxious, but he clearly knew what he was doing.

He'd found a small clearing in the trees, with a break in the canopy that gave them direct sunlight and dryer grass. They were a close walk from the stream, so had both a water and food source, if the fish were safe to eat. They weren't so far from the trees that it would be a trial to find shelter if the rain began. Freed was impressed, and looked to Gajeel for further instructions; if he wanted to beat him at his own game, he needed to know what this game was.

"You might have figured out what this is," Gajeel began, looking towards Freed. He was clearly proud of himself. "For the next three days, we're camping out here, living off the land. No help, no magic, no luxury."

He had emphasised the word luxury, as if the lack of it might make Freed cry. Gods, it would be sweet to wipe that smile off his face.

"You act like I've never camped before," Freed commented.

"Not like this you ain't," Gajeel stated. Technically it was true, Freed usually had a flimsy tent at least, but it was hardly a worrying prospect. "We need food, shelter, heat. Since we have to work together, we split duties. I'll get some fish, you make a fire and get us some shelter made," He crossed his arms and smirked, "if you can handle it, of course."

"I'm sure I can cope," Freed drawled. "Though I might fall to pieces if I chip one of my nails."

Gajeel grunted and turned around. Apparently he wasn't happy that his clear assumptions about Freed had been thrown back at him. That only made Freed more enthusiastic about showing just how capable a man he was, and how wrong Gajeel was in his ideas.

With his teammate walking towards the shallow stream, Freed looked around to see what he had to use. Clearly Gajeel didn't want him using his magic for his time in the forest, so the shelter wouldn't be so easy as making a rune barrier to keep them warm and protected, but that wasn't too difficult to contend with. As they'd walked, Freed had been taking note of the wildlife, and suspected that wolves, bears and other hostile creatures would not cause a problem. The main cause for shelter would be the weather, both protection from the sun and the rain if the clouds rolled in. Perfectly easy.

Using his sword, which had been considered as part of the clothes on his back, Freed began ripping large sheets of bark from nearby trees. He then began hacking away at the lower branches, those wide enough to support some weight but thin enough to be cut away fairly easily.

With enough supplies, he walked back to the clearing. Gajeel was still in the stream, with the water up to his ankles. On the rocks by the shore, four fish were sat dead, wirh Gajeel seemingly attempting to catch them some more. It was an impressive sight to see, he was picking them out from the water without a second thought, and Freed was reluctantly grateful. Catching fish on his own was not something he would be proficient in.

Not without his magic, anyway.

He refocused his attention on the task at hand. He was intending to make a small hut for them both to shelter under. It wouldn't be complicated: four of the branches would hold up the sheets of bark. It wouldn't be particularly large, and the protection of the wind would be non-existent, but it would do what was needed to protect them from either sunstroke, or a cold, depending on the weather.

Freed quickly put his plans into action. The four strongest branches were dug into the dirt, propped up in place by the weaker branches. He tied the pieces of bark together using weeds and some of the longer leaves, making it into a single sheets that would protect them from the elements. It didn't take long for him to affix the bark to the branches, and he made sure to test the structural integrity of the hut by kicking each of the branches. With each kick, the hut held, and Freed considered it to be a success.

"Ain't too bad," Gajeel said, suddenly behind Freed. Freed only allowed a small twitch of surprise. "Don't see a fire, though."

"I expect that's because I haven't made one yet," Freed retorted, shaking the hut again to be sure the bark would hold. "I'm afraid there's not much space under it, so we'll have to sleep close to one another. I might have made it larger, but you seem averse to luxury and I didn't wish to scare you."

"You ain't funny," Gajeel grunted. "Make a fire, city-boy."

Ah, so 'city-boy' was going to stay? That was unfortunate.

Still, as much as Freed would have liked to explain how incorrect the nickname was, Gajeel would prefer actions over words. If he wanted a fire, Freed was happy to make a fire.

This was child's play for him, he was a mage after all. He made a bed of rocks to protect the grass from burning, then began laying thicker logs into a pile. Next, the thin and dried out twigs that would quickly set alight without much complaint. Finally, dry leaves that would take a spark and turn into fire.

It took a few moments for Freed to find a piece of flint, but he did. Once he had, he rested his sword in the middle of the unlit fire. He struck the blade with the flint, sparks flying from it.

Gajeel didn't once stop watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake. He didn't, and the fire was soon burning.

"Is that satisfactory," Freed asked, placing the sword in the scabbard as the fire grew beside him. "Or do you wish for me to trek into the forest and tame a wolf so that it can protect us?"

"I said you ain't funny," Gajeel muttered. He handed Freed one of the many fish he had caught. "Gut this. Hope you ain't squeamish."

Freed openly laughed, having him gut a fish was Gajeel's trump card?

This would be easier than he thought.

——

Everything about the day had worked out in Freed's favour, and it was delightful to watch Gajeel get more and more angry about it. He clearly wanted Freed to blanch at the idea of working to survive, and Freed had proven himself a capable man under every task he had been given. This was a competition, and so far Freed was dominating it.

"Stand up," Gajeel demanded suddenly, and Freed raised an eyebrow. "You wanted to train right? Let's train."

"Very well," Freed said, standing up. "What did you have in mind?"

It was late in the evening now, and the fire was the only source of light. Clouds were obstructing the moon, thankfully, meaning Freed didn't have to worry about the demon burning away inside of him. Whatever Gajeel had in store, Freed wanted complete focus so he could finally end this ridiculous test he'd been put through.

Following his teammate, he was taken a short ways away from the hut he'd created. They were close to the stream, but not so far that they couldn't see one another in the darkness. Gajeel stopped, turned towards Freed, and spread his arms.

"You rely on yer magic too much," Gajeel stated, despite the fact Freed has spent the day disproving that fact. "And I'm willing to bet you hang back in a fight and let Sparky and the Acrobat do most of the physical shit. If you go against someone who cancels your magic then you're shit out of luck, and I ain't gonna fight with a guy who can only toss spells at a guy and hope it works."

"I can't decide if you're wilfully ignoring everything I've done today, or if you're too stupid to have a short term memory," Freed commented with a patronising grin.

"Keep talking shit, it'll only make this worse," Gajeel grinned, his fangs poking through his lips.

Freed went to retort, but Gajeel did the most peculiar thing, and removed his shirt. The suddenness of the action stopped Freed's words before they came.

"We're gonna wrestle. No magic, no weapons, no holds barred. Just gotta rely on our own strength. We keep going until one of us gives us or loses consciousness."

"Very well," Freed shrugged, reaching up to remove his cravat. "Once you've given up, you can perhaps lose this idea that I'm incapable."

"Doubt it," Gajeel grunted.

Freed, to keep in step with Gajeel, removed his own shirt and threw it to the side. As he did, he assessed his opponent. Gajeel was objectively a broader and more muscular man, and despite how intentionally toned he was - nobody got a six pack accidentally - Gajeel's muscles weren't just a result of vanity. The man was physically stronger than him, and had the advantage. But Freed had succeeded in situations worse than this, and Gajeel's cockiness would be his downfall.

With both men stripped to the waist, they assumed a battle ready stance. Gajeel counted down from three, and they lurched towards one another the moment the fight began. The bartering of a muscular form against his own took the wind out of Freed, but he grappled the man around the waist without hesitation.

They struggled like that for a moment, both pushing to wrong foot the other man, neither succeeding.

Freed felt his feet stumbling slightly, and knew that Gajeel's strength was greater than his own. He needed to be smart about this: he would exhaust his target, and take what opportunities presented to throw Gajeel off. One such opportunity had just shown up - if Gajeel wanted to push him back, he would give him what he wanted.

With fast movements, he removed his arms from around Gajeel's waist and shunted back. Too late to adjust his momentum, Gajeel stumbled forward, landing face first in the ground where Freed had just been.

"I'm embarrassed for you that that worked," Freed commented before he could stop himself.

Just as Gajeel pushed himself up off the ground, Freed tackled him again. He was successful this time, flipping him so his back was flush against the grass. When Gajeel's right hand came to push Freed off, he quickly took hold and pinned it above his head. He pressed a foot into Gajeel's stomach to hold him down, smirking as he went to further taunt the man. Just before the words could leave his mouth, a splitting pain filled Freed.

The bastard had kicked him in the stomach.

Gajeel had meant it when he'd said no holds barred. Freed could work with that.

Pushing himself up before Freed could recover, Gajeel crashed into Freed with his full body weight, and the press of the man's strong form was pinning Freed to the ground immediately. One hand was pressing Freed's hands to the ground, his foot was pinning Freed's right leg in place, and his other hand was pressing against Freed's throat with strength behind it. He also meant it when he'd said until one of them was unconscious.

But Freed was not a man to go down without a fight. With only his left leg unpinned, he did something he wasn't particularly proud of, but worked in the situation. He slammed his knee into Gajeel's groin, and the pressure went away as Gajeel staggered to the side.

"Fucking bastard," Gajeel roared, voice a little higher than normal. "What the hell?"

Freed didn't waste the opportunity, and pushed his foot to Gajeel's spine and pressed him face first into the ground. He'd cupped his balls on instinct, meaning his hands were essentially pinned below him when Freed asserted more pressure.

"No holds barred," Freed taunted. "A word of advice. If you set a rule around me, I tend to remember-"

He was cut off when Gajeel suddenly lurched back, throwing Freed's leg off him and making him scramble for balance. He grabbed Freed by the calve and pulled down with strength, taking Freed to the ground beside him. Freed found his arms yanked behind him, and grunted a little at the pain as they were pinned against his lower back. He didn't struggle, it would only exhaust him.

"Givin' up so quickly, huh?" Gajeel purred. "Ain't surprised. Knew you couldn't handle it."

Gajeel had meant to taunt him, but all he had done was show where he was. The words had been right beside Freed's ear, and so Gajeel's face was right behind his ear too. With a jerk, Freed rammed his head back, feeling the crack of the other man's jaw against his skull. The grip on his hands loosened, and he managed to push the man off him.

The following few moments followed a pattern. Freed would get the better of Gajeel, Gajeel would push him off and pin Freed down. Freed in turn would get Gajeel off him, and push him down. The pattern would repeat itself, with neither man gaining the upper hand for too long.

"Ah," Freed panted at the sudden cold on his back as he was pushed to the ground again. Water, they were at the stream now.

"Cold ain't a bother, right?" Gajeel smirked, kicking Freed in the chest when he tried to sit up.

"You're determined to think me weak, aren't you?" Freed rasped slightly, winded from the kick. "Which is a brave thing to say, given you were rolling around the floor cupping your balls just moments ago."

An exaggeration, but the snarl of anger he got was worth it.

Suddenly, one of Gajeel's large hands was wrapped up in Freed's hair, and a kick to the gut had Freed turning. A foot was pressed against this back, forcing him to lie face down in the cold water. Gajeel made sure to hold his face towards the flow of the stream, and the feeling of it rushing into his partially split lips and nose was a horrid burning. A nasty trick.

Freed tried to push himself up, but the fight was lasting longer than he hoped and after a day of labour, Freed's muscles were starting to protest. He tried to raise his head, but Gajeel wouldn't allow it.

Above all, Freed was a strategist. Sometimes, a retreat was the logical choice.

He knew he could get out of this hold. With the right angle, he could take hold of Gajeel's leg and pull it in the same way Gajeel had done to him to knock him off balance. But what then? They would fall back into the spiral of pinning one another, hitting one another, and achieving nothing.

This entire exercise was an act of futility. Gajeel was trying to prove Freed was weak willed and impractical, despite the fact it was clearly untrue. Freed was trying to prove Gajeel wrong, but the man was too pigheaded to accept it.

"I give," Freed grunted, voice warped by the water.

"What was that?" Gajeel taunted.

"I said I give," Freed spat.

The hand keeping his head partially underwater was gone, and the foot holding him down soon followed. Freed spat out the water as he turned, body aching as he sat in the stream. Gajeel was looking down at him as if he were dirt, and it took a lot of self restraint not to attack the man where he stood.

"You think yer hot shit, but you ain't," Gajeel grunted, "You're a spineless ass with some spells you rely on too much."

"You know damn well I only stopped that because it was pointless," Freed snarled, standing up, water dripping from him. "And you didn't ban magic because you want to see me fight without it. You were just scared of me showing my power because you know it dwarves yours."

"The hell did you say?" Gajeel growled, and magic energy filled the space as Gajeel's hands turned to a blade.

"You heard me," Freed's voice was distorted - demonic - and he didn't care. "You are in the presence of a powerful wizard and terrified."

For a moment, neither man spoke. Tense magical energy flowed form them both, ready to lurche should they need it. Gajeel relented, walking towards the fire, murmuring that he couldn't wait for the week to be over.

That, at least, was something they could agree upon.

[gumnut-logic]

Sky Candy

Okay, this one is for ‘shits and giggles’ :D Literally. It grew out of a discussion with @onereyofstarlight​ this morning and I managed to both start and finish it today :D Just a bit of fun.

Spoilers & warnings: This is actually based in the Kermadec Universe created by my fic ‘We’ll Be Home For Christmas’, but it barely relates to that fic and it can be read without it. Maybe mild, mild spoilers for that fic. There is a tiny amount of Scott/OC ship in this, but it is minimal. Low level language, 4490 words.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight​ for the inspiration, support and the read through. And also to @scribbles97​ for a read and encouragement.

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

Living on an island in the middle of the ocean had Virgil fairly used to birds. There was a colony of Kermadec Petrels on Mateo that he liked to keep an eye on since apparently, they were ‘native and uncommon due to past ecological interference in the area’ and Mel had glared enough at his father to let it sink in…particularly when they were building their backup generator over there. The fact the little island had nearly been blown up by the Hood had given him nightmares for weeks. A firm discussion with Kayo and a change to the WASP protocol had been enacted since.

But so close.

There were the lone albatrosses that occasionally visited, their vast wingspan visible far above the island. Virgil had been known to just sit and watch them until they disappeared to the horizon or behind Tracy Peak. There was something so calming about them.

Of course, then there was the time a huge gull had taken up residence in the pool…while Gordon was in it. There was such a ruckus at that, even Virgil had been dragged out of bed. Alan had been eating breakfast when the bird landed and had caught a good chunk of it on film. One sodden, screeching aquanaut tangling with a much put out gull provided entertainment for Christmases to come.

But this? This was unprecedented.

Thunderbird Two had been left on her runway overnight due to a small fault in her module retrieval system. No module meant no wheels and a ticked off pilot. He had lowered number four to the tarmac at 2am and used a pod to push it into the hanger, but Two had to stay outside.

Gordon had not been happy and Four couldn’t deploy without help from Two at this point, but at least the craft had been safe inside overnight.

Two on the other hand…

Virgil crawled out of bed at 6am, drowned himself in coffee and stumbled out into the morning.

Fortunately, the weather was blue sky and the wind almost non-existent. The palms were still and the foliage on either side of the runway was just lighting up as the sun slowly crept over the horizon beyond the villa. It was all quite beautiful.

It was a relief. With the exception of last night, the last week had been full of nasty weather. Not enough to stop a Thunderbird launch, but dark, grey, windy, wet and depressing.

Virgil took a moment and let his shoulders drop and closed his eyes. Okay, he was overreacting. He was tired. Yesterday had been hell and the fault had appeared just as he was finally able to leave the last rescue site. It meant a crawl back to Tracy Island and Gordon stuck in the module and his ‘bird the entire way.

The vitriol over comms hadn’t helped.

If they had been near land, he would have paused to collect the aquanaut out of the module, but the rescue had been in the middle of the Pacific and it was pitch black and, god, he just wanted to go home.

The fact he was separated from his brother by a comline that could possibly be muted was a reassurance of his sanity.

Did he mute it?

No.

But the possibility was there. It really was.

It was over. He was home. The morning was beautiful and he should be able to fix the problem easily enough.

The petrels over on Mateo were squawking up a storm. A glance in that direction and, yes, the sea eagles were out looking for breakfast.

Living on the Island was a twenty-four-hour nature documentary sometimes. Without the editing.

Two was exactly where he left her, squatting on her struts. He took a moment to just stop and gaze at her. It wasn’t often he was able to see her outside without having to dash to or from an emergency.

She was lit up by the sun, her green hull glowing with its satin shimmer. Her big number two emblazoned and glowing on her tail. He was able to appreciate just how big she was and just how beautiful.

His heart swelled with a little pride and, if he was to admit it, blatant affection.

She was just perf-

He frowned. What the hell was that?

A white glow on her front windows where there should be no highlight with the sun this low on the horizon.

He took a step sideways, moving the angle of reflection.

You have got to be kidding me.

He didn’t have his uniform on, just his service harness, wrist remote over his flannel and an old pair of jeans. He was planning on using his onboard tool kit and killing two birds with one stone by checking the equipment at the same time.

He ran to the hatch, lowering it without thought and waiting impatiently for it to rise up into the cabin. The moment he could, he dashed forward to his pilot’s seat.

Across the forward windows was sprayed a large splat of white something.

Virgil’s brows cut a furrow into his forehead that almost cleaved his skull in half. If the white mess wasn’t so huge, he’d think a bird had eaten Grandma’s cooking and had a bad night. But it was massive. The streaks spread over several windows.

If Gordon had used paint on Virgil’s ‘bird as a prank, fratricide was a possibility.

Grabbing a safety line, Virgil hooked himself in and raised the hatch. Lips, pursed he climbed out onto Two’s hull and lowered himself down to her windows.

It was bird shit.

One massive bird shit.

It encompassed plexiglass and cahelium hull and was a spray of at least a couple of metres across.

How the hell? Anger was frozen as his brain attempted to account for how it got there.

It wasn’t there last night. Hell, if it was, there was no way he could have missed it. So, it had to have happened overnight.

The problem was, as far as he knew, there was nothing on Tracy Island big enough to do such a thing. Except maybe Gordon. Anything was possible with Gordon.

Gordon. Yeah, it had to be Gordon.

Climbing back into his ‘bird, he hunted down enough cleaning equipment to remove the mess.

Once it was cleaned up, he turned to the task he had come out there for and fixed the faulty retrieval hydraulics.

-o-o-o-

Virgil had mostly forgotten about the issue by lunchtime. Having his ‘bird out in the sunshine gave him the opportunity to air out her life support systems and do some general cleaning. He even got one of the bots to hose her down and climbed out and polished up her windows and external lights. For an hour or two he lost himself in the job, his mind wandering over yesterday’s events and processing as his hands worked on familiar surfaces.

Gordon wandered out onto the tarmac at one point to check on him. His fish brother may claim to be carefree, but if one of them wasn’t acting normally, he was known to chase them up or alternatively poke and prod if they weren’t responding in a Gordon-acceptable manner.

“Hey, Virg, whatcha doin’?”

It was yelled up as Virgil was hanging almost upside down above Two’s port wing polishing his third number two for the day.

“Cleaning.”

And yes, that was an arched eyebrow from his little brother. He couldn’t see it, but he could hear it. “You gonna wax and polish your entire ‘bird?”

“Just the important bits.”

“You do know we have bots for that.”

“Yes, Gordon.”

“Then wh-“ A wet splat interrupted his brother. “A-aaaargh!”

Virgil spun so fast, his safety line shifted and he found himself falling forward and off the edge of the wing.

Hanging in mid-air only gave him a better view.

Gordon stood on the tarmac, face absolutely disgusted, somewhat distraught and covered in white bird shit.

Virgil immediately looked to the sky, but from this angle half of it was obscured by the cliff face and the rest of it was blue, empty and glaringly full of sun.

“What the hell?!” Gordon stood like a frightened scarecrow, white uric acid in his hair, on his shirt and hands. His fingers flicked white all over the asphalt.

Virgil kept a wide berth as he rappelled down the side of his ‘bird.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay?!”

Virgil bit his lip. “Well, you’ve looked better.” And if his phone camera was suddenly in his hand, it wasn’t like the fish wouldn’t do the same if he had the chance.

The expression of disgust on Gordon’s face was one for the record books. An accusatory glare at the phone, he spun on the spot, careful not to touch any part of his body with his filthy hands, darted between the ferns and clambered down the cliffside.

Virgil unclipped himself and ran after his brother, only catching sight of him as a pair of sand shoes flew up the cliff and landed on the asphalt. Gordon took a leaping dive into the lagoon.

Well, that was one way to get rid of it.

Virgil watched him purely for safety’s sake as his fish brother skimmed below the surface towards the deeper blue at the centre of the caldera. As always, Virgil marvelled at how fast Gordon could move underwater. Goofy above, powerful below.

And now madly trying to scrub the mess out of his hair. Words which Grandma would not approve bounced around the bay.

A figure in blue appeared at the edge of the villa cliff staring out at the splashing in the middle of the lagoon. That was an explanation waiting to happen. He was surprised there hadn’t been a squawk from comms already.

A glance at the empty sky and he returned to the question of what the hell would be capable of doing this.

Virgil was no orthinologist, but he did have a camera and an interest in the wildlife around him. They were in a rather privileged position just north of one of the world’s largest wildlife sanctuaries, and if his photos were of use to the scientific team on Raoul Island a few hundred kilometres south of them, well, it didn’t hurt to help where he could.

Mel, the leader of the team had him grabbing rough counts of the Kermadec petrels on Mateo every now and again, plus the sea eagles in the cliffs. With the tui in the forest and a number of other species, Virgil was pretty sure he had encountered just about every type of bird on the Island.

And none of them were big enough to make that mess.

Gordon was heading back and no doubt, the words were not going to be pleasant.

He was spitting chips before he even climbed out of the water.

“What the hell was that?!”

His soaking wet brother climbed the verge, hair sticking out in all directions, bare feet nimble despite the sharp rocks.

Virgil opened his mouth, but another voice interrupted. “What happened?”

Blue eyes, dark frown, Scott had already walked half the length of Two’s runway. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, Scott. Gordon just had an encounter with some bird poop.”

His big brother stopped walking. “You’re kidding. All that,” and he waved his hand towards the lagoon, “was for a little sky candy?”

“Candy?” Outrage was one word. Bedraggled was another. Gordon was shoving damp feet into his sand shoes and having a doozy of a time with it. “A bird shit on me, Scott. A pterodactyl sized bird. Possibly an elephant with wings.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “If it was an elephant with wings, you’d need a shovel.” Though at this point, he was willing to entertain the pterodactyl theory.

Another wary glance at the sky.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to get Two undercover.

-o-o-o-

The video captured by Virgil proved to be highly popular that night, particularly once it was thrown up on the main holoprojector. He knew he was risking dye in his shower rose, but it was a change from being the subject of joviality and it really was harmless. It was also a rare day when they hadn’t been called out, so everyone was relaxed and there was laughter which was sorely needed after yesterday.

There was less laughter the next morning when Scott walked out onto the main balcony at five in the morning and slipped on a wet patch.

The mug of coffee in his hand went flying, splashing boiling hot water on his shirt as he fell, and it was only years of sparring with Kayo that saved him from cracking his head on the hardwood.

As it was, by the time a worried Gordon dragged Virgil out of bed, there were a number of nasty bruises sprouting on his big brother.

“Well, you are staying home today.”

“Virgil, c’mon. I just fell over.”

Wrapping the scald on Scott’s hand, Virgil shook his head. “Nope, you slipped. On a non-slip balcony, by the way. What were you doing out there in the dark?”

“It wasn’t dark.”

“The sun wasn’t up and you didn’t see what you stepped in.”

“Giant bird poop isn’t usually a problem, Virgil.”

No, it wasn’t. The sight of the white splash on the hardwood, large enough to overcome the non-slip surface was like a taunt.

Virgil cleaned up his big brother while listening to Gordon whine about the shit in his hair that apparently hadn’t washed out, ocean or three showers later. After that, he dropped a line to Mel on Raoul and asked her if she knew of any local birds that could do that much poop in one evacuation.

Apart from the snort of laughter from the blonde ecologist, the answer was only ‘maybe an albatross’. Apparently, that was the biggest bird in the Kermadecs.

He sent her the video in thanks.

The howling laughter that followed was worth it. He couldn’t help but grin at the sound of Sam in the background.

Oh, yes, Gordon was going down.

Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon securing everything he owned and rigging some protective security.

Gordon would likely get him anyway, but no need to make it easy.

Scott, of course, refused to acknowledge the burn or the bruises and went about his usual activities. If strangling him wasn’t counterproductive to his preferred outcome, Virgil may have considered it.

“I’m fine, Virgil.” The bandaged hand waved in his direction begged to differ.

The sun was setting and Scott had been at their father’s desk for most of the day. At least they hadn’t been called out.

“There’s someone on the runway!”

Virgil jumped as Alan tore up the kitchen stairs.

“What?”

Young blue eyes were earnest and not a little worried. “There is someone on the runway!”

Scott’s response was immediate, swiping aside paperwork and bring up the Island’s security network. Views of the runway, now almost in darkness flickered past, all empty of life, until a screen came up blank.

“Camera Five is transmitting, but there is no image.”

Scott thumbed his comms. “Kayo, we have a possible intruder on Two’s runway and a camera down. Could you please check it out.”

Their sister’s efficient FAB bounced back over comms.

“I’m going with her. Gordon jumped off the couch where he had been lounging for most of the afternoon and threw himself into his launch chute.

“John, we have a possible intrusion and a blanked camera. Can you give us extra eyes on Two’s runway.”

Another efficient FAB bounced down from orbit and the transmission in Scott’s hands changed to the massive sensors employed by Thunderbird Five.

There was nothing on the runway.

Virgil stared at it. “Alan, what did you see?”

His little brother was standing beside him. “Movement. A head maybe. It was too big to be anything else.”

Kayo appeared on the display, followed by Gordon. They both sketched out a search pattern.

That ultimately proved unfruitful.

They did discover why one of the cameras wasn’t working properly.

“More bird shit.” Gordon’s disgust was a physical thing.

Virgil turned the unit over in a gloved hand. It was designed to withstand a cyclone, yet here it was coated in enough uric acid to simply block any light from entering it.

The thing was, this wasn’t the first time this camera had had an issue. The way it protruded out of the cliff made it a perfect perch and it had seen a few birds over the years. Consequently, it was maintained and checked regularly. It was fine yesterday.

Now it was not.

Coated in one big bird turd.

“You know whatever the hell this is, it obviously has a stomach issue.” Apparently, Gordon was on the verge of declaring whatever it was to be his personal nemesis.

“We’ll need to work out a way to deter the birds from this camera.”

“Bird, Virg. One great big honkin’ bird.”

“That we have yet to see.”

“Well, we have cameras and sensors all over the island. Let’s use them.”

-o-o-o-

They were called out before they could do anything. China. A flood. Three days of drudgery and misery.

It was bad.

Bad enough for Grandma to shut them down for forty-eight hours after they finally made it home.

Virgil was limping with a twisted ankle and a cranky commander who had witnessed him making the jump responsible for the injury. It nearly ended up so much worse,

An aching ankle was worth the life of the two children he had in his arms at the time. He’d be fine.

After fourteen hours curled up in bed, he crawled downstairs and hunted down his coffee. It was midmorning, but the house was quiet. The weather was still holding out and despite a long night’s sleep, he still felt exhausted. Hopefully coffee and breakfast would help.

Sun would be nice. He grabbed a bagel, limped out onto the pool deck and found himself a lounger.

-o-o-o-

Coffee or no, he must have fallen asleep, because he woke to a whisper on comms.

“Virgil, stay still.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled and rolled over, blinking against the sunlight.

And came face to face with an alien.

What the f-?

Dopey brain, adrenalin, and he was floundering backwards, landing hard on the concrete. The lounge flipped over and collapsed on him.

A massive pair of black and white wings spread and flapped, agitated. They backed off, but not without grabbing his neglected bagel first.

Virgil stared as his brain booted.

It was a pelican. A very large pelican.

The bagel was gulped down a huge pink beak.

“Virg! It’s a pelican!” Gordon sounded excited, his whisper over comms almost a shout.

“I can see that.” At least they now knew where all the poop had come from.

Virgil eased the lounger off his back as quietly as he could.

“Virgil, are you okay?” Scott, of course.

“Fine.”

“That is a very big pelican.”

Virgil resisted rolling his eyes...just. “I noticed.”

The bird was eyeing him. Virgil edged backwards a little only for the lounger to rattle behind him.

Those black wings spread again and Virgil froze.

Several feathers were missing from those wings and there was a small smear of red amongst the white on the bird’s right side.

Aw, hell. “Gordon, it’s injured.”

“Damn. How bad? I can’t see from here.”

Virgil looked up and found both Scott and Gordon on the balcony above watching him.

“I can’t tell. We will need to capture it.”

“Reckon you can grab it?”

Virgil eyed the bird. It was over a metre tall and had a beak to match. “Possibly.”

Any other thought on the matter was suddenly vetoed as a familiar hiss lightly disturbed the surface of the pool and Virgil found himself covered in netting.

Kayo and Shadow.

The pelican did not appreciate it and struggled, tangling itself.

Virgil held still and tempted to calm it with soothing noises. Then Scott was there, dragging him out from under the net. Gordon was gathering the huge bird, hands and words desperately trying to calm it.

Thumb on comms. “John, get me Mel. We need her help.”

-o-o-o-

“Well this is a first. An Australian Pelican all the way out here.” Mel stood watching the injured bird stalk about its cage. “You sure he didn’t hitch a ride on one of your Thunderbirds?”

Gordon snorted. “Virg tried to bring home a polar bear once.”

“That was not intentional.” Okay, so it was a sore point. Alan could have been seriously injured simply because Virgil hadn’t closed the module door.

“Well, you did.”

“Did not.”

“Alan would disagree.”

“I did not!”

A hand landed on Virgil’s shoulder, its partner landing on Gordon’s. “That’s enough. Mel, is he going to be okay?” Scott’s voice was authority deep.

The blonde ecologist tilted her head to one side and shrugged. “I’ve done what I can. I think so. He should still be able to fly, but there is no way he is making it back to the continent by himself. I’ve contacted Birdlife Australia. We’ll make an estimate of where he might have come from and take him home.” She smiled up at Scott. “I might need a lift.”

A lopsided smirk. “You’ve got one.”

Gordon rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Mel.” Virgil held out a hand.

She eyed him a moment and took it. “I see you’re the walking wounded again.”

His eyelids dropped into a flat glare. “Just a twisted ankle.”

She smirked at him. “Look after yourself.”

“Oh, for gods, sake, Mel, isn’t one of my brothers enough?” Gordon groaned.

The ecologist shrugged and Scott frowned. The moment Mel spotted the frown she burst into a grin. “Something wrong, Commander?”

Scott’s glare was flat enough to level the Island. “Not a thing.”

Mel’s grin just got wider. But she reached out and took his fingers in hers. Scott’s shoulders relaxed just a little.

She stroked the back of his hand. “Good.”

Both Virgil and Gordon rolled their eyes at that.

“I’m going for a swim.” Gordon skipped out of the room.

“I’m going to go finish my breakfast.”

Neither Scott or Mel noticed.

The pelican stared him down.

Virgil flicked his eyes towards the ceiling, turned and left.

-o-o-o-

Scott wanted to borrow Thunderbird Two for the delivery. Virgil offered but the Commander claimed he was injured. Virgil told him where he could shove that, listing off a burn and a maze of bruises from a few days earlier as far more injurious than a twisted ankle.

Scott resorted to whining after that.

The fact Scott actually whined like his littlest brother had the engineer staring at his big brother like he’d grown an extra nose.

“How old are you?”

“Virg, please.”

“You’re kidding me, right? You want to borrow my car to take out your date because your jalopy can’t do the job.”

That got a more familiar reaction. “It has to be Two to lessen the trauma to the pelican.”

“Fine, I’ll take him to Brisbane.”

“Virg!”

An arched eyebrow. Okay, he had to admit this was a little fun. “Something wrong?”

“Virgil! I could order it.”

“Sure, you could.” I dare you.

Blue glared at him fit to bust a vein. Virgil held those eyes calmly with his own, doing his best to hold back his grin.

Ultimately, he failed.

“Damnit, Virgil.”

A snort. “Fine. Bring her back in one piece. No aerobatics.”

His brother’s grin was worth it. Who ever thought Scott Tracy would be so eager to fly the family cargo carrier?

The pelican left Tracy Island along with Mel and his brother the next morning.

Virgil did not fail to notice that there was a night before that morning and Scott was positively chipper before he left.

The engineer stood out the front of the villa and took the opportunity to watch his bird lift off with a familiar roar and bank towards the south-west.

He couldn’t help but smile just a little more.

His brother was gone all day and it was no surprise. Virgil was not worried, despite Gordon ribbing him about it for a good part of the day.

The artist hid in his studio.

And painted a pelican.

Eventually, the familiar sound of his ‘bird returning to the Island drew him out and he met his brother on his way back from the hangars.

Scott was obviously preoccupied and didn’t see him approach.

“How did it go?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin. “Virgil! Give a guy warning next time.”

Virgil stared at him. “You okay?”

“What? Yeah, sure.” The commander pushed past him towards the lockers.

That didn’t sound right. Virgil turned and followed. “Did you have a good time?”

That had a better result. Scott straightened and grinned. “Definitely.” The man was obviously seeing pleasant memories in his mind’s eye.

“So, what’s wrong then?”

The grin vanished. “Er, nothing.” He unfastened and lifted his baldric up and over his head. He looked at anything other than Virgil.

“And you say I can’t lie.”

Eyes caught his. “You can’t. You’re crap at it, Virg, always have been.”

“Well, you’re failing big time today. What happened?”

His brother’s shoulders dropped. “I’ll help you clean her. I promise.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. Oh, god. “What did you do?” He turned and ran towards the hangers.

“Virgil! I’ll fix it. It was an accident.”

“What the hell did you do?!”

He burst into Two’s hangar only to be met by Gordon grinning like a loon. “Big Bro is in trouble.” The fish managed to sing that.

Virgil shoved him out of the way so he could see his ‘bird.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh my god.”

Scott stepped up beside him. “Honest, I didn’t know.”

Virgil held out his hands to his beautiful Thunderbird as if in supplication. One desperate word. “How?”

Scott sighed. “Local fishing fleet docked while she was parked on the beach. Apparently, it is an event that all the local birds gather for. Two unfortunately made a great perch.”

There was bird poop from one end of his girl to the other. She looked diseased. Her green hull mottled with white and brown.

“I’ll clean her. I promise.”

Pelicans. There were pelicans. Likely gulls as well.

“Virg? I will, I promise.”

Bird shit all over his ‘bird.

“Virg?”

“I think you broke him, bro.” Something waved in front of his eyes, interrupting his view of his girl. He swiped at it.

“Well, we have movement at least.”

“Shut up, Gordon.”

“Virg?”

He turned on his big brother and shoved a finger in his face. “You are going to clean every single turd off my ‘bird.”

“Yes, Virgil.” Those blue eyes were very wide and Scott was leaning backwards.

“Good.” Virgil spun on his heel and stormed out.

Stupid birds.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

If you would like to see the possibilities of what can happen with these birds, please have a look here and here :D

[delimeful]

golden harp

Day 21: Bean

warnings: fear, captivity, jerk giants :( 

jack and the beanstalk au based off the fake title prompt i made up here!

-

Virgil should have known better than to sleep after a failed bartering trip, but he was exhausted after a long day of traveling, and he hadn’t once gotten the feeling that someone was tailing him. He’d thought he was fairly good at guessing, but his luck had to run out eventually. 

It just so happened that it ran out for a more dangerous opponent than most. Because of course it did. 

While at the market, he’d refused the beans each of the three times the stranger tried to push them on him. Each time, the stranger’s price was lower than before and they grew more desperate, only confirming Virgil’s suspicion that whatever was wrong with those beans, he wanted no part of it. He’d been cursed before, and it was a pain in the ass to fix. 

Still, three was the customary number for these sort of things. He hadn’t expected to be followed home, and he certainly hadn’t expected the bastard to have planted the seeds under his porch, but here he was, clinging to his bed for dear life as his house rose further and further into the air. 

Outside his bedroom window he could see huge green leaves blooming quicker than any natural plant, the beanstalk growing and growing until the air grew thin and foggy with clouds. A final upward jolt, and everything finally stopped shaking around him. 

He hurried over to the window, scanning the landscape. Giant foliage, mountains over clouds. It was the Land of Giants, alright. 

Well, time to get the heck out. 

Virgil hurried from room to room, collecting his most important belongings and shoving them into a backpack. There were no giants visible outside now, sure, but he’d never put stock into the rumors that they’d gone extinct. The stories were all too convenient, bait to scam dumb adventurers into fights they couldn’t possibly win. Even just the local wildlife could be hazardous, anyways. 

No, he was going to get everything together and climb right down that beanstalk. His house could be rebuilt once he got back to a world his size. 

Luckily, most of his stuff was packed already from yesterday’s trip, so it didn’t take long. He was struggling to open his jammed door when he heard it. A rhythmic pounding, growing louder and louder. He’d never heard the sound before, at least not on this scale, but he wasn’t an idiot. Those were footsteps. And they were getting closer, quick.

His anxiety shot through the roof, and he gave up on subtlety as he slammed his shoulder into the door, once, twice- 

He broke through on the third hit, and just in time, for as soon as he hit the ground, there was a splintering crash behind him. He twisted, the blood draining from his face as he took in the shoe that had effectively stomped half of his house into wooden bits. That could have been him. 

“What in the- ?” A rumbling voice asked, and Virgil quickly scrambled to his feet. 

Correction: That could be him, if he didn’t get his head out of the clouds. 

He ducked through oversized blades of grass, doing his best to ignore the sharp cry of the giant as it spotted him. The giant footsteps on his tail were harder to ignore, though, and when a shadow fell over him he couldn’t help but cry out in fear, curling in on himself. 

Rather than being crushed into the ground, however, he was lifted into the air like a pillbug, tugged up by the bulk of his backpack. He clung to the straps, the ground pulling away too fast for him to try and slip out of it. All too soon he was brought to dangle in front of a giant face.

“Ugh, a human.” The giant frowned at him. “Come to trick and steal from us, then? You’re doing a tremendously poor job so far.” 

Virgil forced himself to take a breath, still all curled up as to present a smaller target. “I’m not. I didn’t mean to come here, I-”

“Oh, sure.” The giant’s doubtful voice overpowered his easily. “That’s what they all say, but you don’t climb a beanstalk on accident.”

“I didn’t! My house- !”

“A likely story. I know how humans operate, I don’t care what sort of grand tale you want to weave, I won’t be having it.” The giant reached up and tugged on Virgil’s legs, pulling on the bag at the same time. 

Despite his best efforts, Virgil’s grip was nothing in the face of that monstrous strength, and the straps were torn roughly from his arms, leaving his legs clenched in a giant fist. “No!”    

“There we are.” The giant dropped the bag into his shirt pocket, far out of Virgil’s reach, and he felt his heart sink. He knew that he probably wasn’t going to get out of this one either way, but there was something incredibly disheartening about watching someone take everything you own away with one hand.

The giant adjusted his hold on Virgil, prodding him with oversized fingers. “You don’t have any weapons on you, right?” 

He wished. “No, I didn’t come to fight! I didn’t even mean to come here!” 

“You’re absolutely right you don’t want to fight. I could squish you like a bug, toothpick weapons or not.” The giant squeezed Virgil slightly in demonstration, and the band of panic around his chest tightened painfully. “But I won’t, since I’m not like your barbaric kind.” 

“Can you just let me go?” Virgil asked, voice faint. “I won’t come back, I don’t have any beans, please-” 

“And have you lead more humans up here to rob and murder us? I don’t think so. We’ll figure out what to do with you once I get home.”

Who’s ‘we’, Virgil wanted to ask, but his mouth barely formed the first syllable before his shallow breathing became too much, the edges of his vision darkening until he finally passed out. 

-

When he woke, he was laying on a cool wooden surface, and there were loud voices arguing above him. Wait. Not loud… Big.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You know my thoughts on the matter-”

“And I think just ditching him out there leaves too much to chance! We wouldn’t even know if he made it back down there until an army of humans showed up on our doorstep.”

“Are you going to kill him, then?” 

A tense pause. Virgil regretfully acknowledged that this wasn’t a vivid dream he’d had while napping on the floor at home.

“... No.”

“Then what do you suggest we do, Roman?” 

“I don’t know!” The shout was enough to make Virgil flinch, only for a second. He went back to laying still, hoping neither had seen. 

“... He’s awake.” The colder voice stated, and Virgil grimaced. Still, he refused to move. The terrible situation he was in didn’t exist until he acknowledged it. 

A strong force prodded at his side, and he shot upright, coughing, and smacked the giant finger like an offended cat.

“Don’t pretend to be asleep and eavesdrop, you little sneak.” The giant from before was looking down at him, eyes narrowed in a glare. 

Virgil glared back, heart racing. “Maybe don’t kidnap me then!” 

“Maybe don’t trespass and steal, you-!”

“Roman.” The other giant cut him off, and oh god there were two giants. The second looked much less expressive than Roman, large glasses magnifying his cold gaze. 

Roman groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Ugh, humans…” 

Virgil glanced around him, taking in the huge ceiling over his head. He was in a giant dining room, sitting on a giant dining table, which was pretty much a nightmare in itself. He resisted the urge to draw further into himself. That would only make him easier to eat. 

There had to be a way to escape… 

A loud snap right next to him made him jump, and he turned to see Roman looking down at him with an irritated expression. “Hey, earth to human! Don’t you have any useful traits?” 

Virgil scowled at him, crossing his arms to hide their shaking. “Why would I tell you?” 

Roman huffed, offended, but the other giant was the one to respond. “Perhaps because it would help us decide whether or not to dispose of you. I assume you want to survive, seeing as humans are frequently more than willing to do terrible things for survival.”  

Virgil froze under his apathetic stare, mind racing. He had no doubt that these giants could kill him in any number of painful ways if he didn’t prove to be useful. He was willing to swallow his pride if it meant postponing his execution. 

“I… I can play the guitar.” He admitted. 

The unnamed giant’s eyes brightened slightly. “Ah, a human stringed instrument. That will work nicely.” 

Without another word, he seized Virgil in one hand, ignoring his panicked struggles and Roman’s exasperated sigh. He walked through the house at a speed that made Virgil feel as though he was on the brink of passing out again, grabbing a few glittering items with his free hand. The purpose of them became clear once he reached the living room, a cozy space with a roaring fire. 

Virgil wasn’t paying attention to the decor, though, not when the giant was setting a small, gilded birdcage on a shelf. He shook his head in protest, feeling his eyes grow hot with tears as he shoved his arms and legs out, trying and failing to keep the giant from maneuvering him through the open cage entrance. He was dropped onto the cold metal floor, and an ornate, angular harp was set down next to him. He rolled to his feet, watching numbly as the barred door snapped shut with a clang.

“I don’t even know how to play the harp.” He said, voice coming out small and hopeless. 

The giant turned away, mind already elsewhere. 

“You’ll learn.” 

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Jealous (ITA Special)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 2 Bonus Episode

Warnings: none.

Word Count: Jealous Loki was requested by anon. I don’t know who you are but let me tell you this. I practically wrote this with all my senses closed. Tight. Shut. Just wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote and still kept writing even after I felt I was pretty tired. Don’t know what came over me. It just came out and spread all over here by the mere thought of not writing

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The halls tonight were barely lit but Loki could see why there wasn't much need for the lights in here. The people present in Tony Stark's gala were enough to set the entire estate ablaze. No. Wait. Scratch that. Tony Stark alone was enough to set the Avenger's facility ablaze. The rest of the crowd? The rest of the crowd was just a bonus, adding twinkle effects to the star that was grabbing everyone's attention.

But as it went without saying, Loki himself was grabbing a lot of eyeballs, stares following the man who was looking dapper as the most delicious sin that ever walked in a human form on earth. Both men and women could not keep their eyes off this perfection surpassing Greek Gods- the ones that were supposed to be the epitome of perfection. A lady was even heard cursing 'oh fuck me' out loud as he passed her with a knowing smirk on his face, clearly making her suffer breathlessness for the next few minutes.

The music was quite well for his taste. Loki had to admit, if anyone knew how to party, it was Stark. No one made the best of entertainment like this man.

"Oh come on!" He heard a familiar voice gasp in his direction from the bar. "You really don't want me to win any bet against you, do you?"

Loki watched Scott reflect despair on his face as he gestured at the God with utter disappointment. "You were supposed to put in minimal effort, man. Do you understand what minimal even means? Standing there looking all hot and sexy. Making straight men and lesbians question their sexuality!"

Javier stood next to Scott, taking Loki's entirety frame by frame from head to toe with his camera. Peter, who was watching all of this unfold while eating deconstructed spring rolls, leaned in to whisper to Javier to 'keep today's recording in a safe. You have no idea how much some people would pay just to watch him in a suit.'

"I just put the first thing I got my hands on, Scott," Loki stated, leaning over the bar and gesturing the bartender for a drink that neither Scott nor Peter understood, "not my fault if I am devilishly handsome by default."

"Yeah well the devil's not helping right now when I have placed my bet against you."

Loki smirked his smirk, making the guy behind the bar nearly tip the glass off the edge before hurriedly stopping it from falling. Peter looked into Javier's camera to mouth 'wow' before turning back to Loki and Scott.

"How nice of you to show so much confidence in Y/N, Scott."

Scott jumped at Natasha's voice coming from right behind him, turning to find the assassin dressed in a red gown that hugged her curves with the will of a fish trying to survive on land in a small pond. She herself was catching quite the looks- making a lot of ladies wonder whether what they were feeling was envy or just pure excitement between their legs.

"Of course, Scott," Loki added to Nat's sarcastic statement earlier, taking a sip of whatever mysterious sweet intoxication he had ordered, "give Y/N some credit to wager she could look better than this."

"Okay," Nat interrupted him with narrowed eyes, "you better stop being so smug, Loki, and start thinking about what would happen she kicked your ass."

"Really?" Loki and Scott asked in unison. The latter got Nat's elbow in his gut.

"She's much more powerful than you think, Gourdy," Nat divulged, "you really should give the credit where it's due."

Loki found himself chuckling before his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "You really think the woman who was literally dragged out by you and Wanda to go get herself a dress for this ball will actually take the time and effort to look better than a God? It's good to dream, Natasha but only to a limit."

The green eyes looking at Loki did not stir for a single second while multiple gasps came out from the guys surrounding Loki. "See?" he whispered close to Nat, "even these men agree."

Now it was Nat's turn to smirk and tilt her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sympathy. She stepped closer to Loki, taking his tie in her fingers and straightening it. "They are not gasping in awe of you, Loki," she whispered slowly, giving the God time to register every syllable, "they are gasping at the audacity of me winning a bet. Once again." She finished him with a wink before letting her eyes go behind him.

Loki, confused and egotistically pinched, turned around to find how exactly Nat won the be-

Oh. Oh!

You stood on the stairs, a sight fit for Valhalla. No. You were too majestic even for Valhalla. The green flowing over your body like a green stream finding its way down your body to fall with the most sophisticated rush. The straps holding your dress went to the back to twirl around a golden ring and come back down by the waist, leaving your back bare. Your hair was loose unlike the rest of the time, framing your face in light and shadow that was catching more than just Loki's heart. On one side, next to your chest were two green stones cut to perfection, glittering with the dim lights and catching everyone that even had you in your field of vision.

Loki stopped short of breathing, letting the beats from Alina Baraz's Pretty Thoughts fill every sensation he felt in those next few moments.

You stepped down the stairs, letting the slit in the dress expose your legs to the light that felt like it existed just so it could shine on them. Your grace when you pulled a strand of your hair behind your ear, exposing the golden earring twisting and dangling down your ears, wanting to touch your shoulders but being denied the pleasure of doing so. Your movement, as you swung your hips when you walked- a sight that was making so many souls stir at the sight in front of them. Too much heat. Somebody crank up the AC!

Someone out there responsible for the tunes seemed to sense the change in the surroundings by your mere presence, turning to the much more sedated and bass-filled version of Can't Take My Eyes Off You, giving the curious eyes a tune to feel their emotions.

Loki, once leaning ever so casually over the bar suddenly had to unconsciously feel the weight on his legs when he watched the smile on your lips painted nude- a shade of transparency- while your eyes glimmered with a playful smoke- a hue of everything that is delightfully shameful. But that was not what hit his heart through his eyes. It was you being stopped short by a man unknown, taking your hand and giving it a light kiss before making you laugh.

Loki felt something inside him twitch. To add to that, every pair of eyes standing next to him- along with that camera- turned to watch him like a bundle of curious hawks.

"Who's that?" Loki tried to sound casual while he took a good swig of his drink.

Nat looked at the man his eyes were pointing to- the one who was bringing you to tears from all the laughing fits he was giving you- and quite reluctantly let her lips leave the straw she was drinking from to speak. "Oh! That's Rhodey's nephew, Matt. He's a wildlife specialist. He removed a species of whales from the endangered list."

Loki, Scott and Peter turned to look at Nat with furrowed brows. Nat raised her fingers before she could hear their thoughts. "No! He did not kill them!"

They could see Matt bringing his hand forward for you as a sign of some formal request.

"Do you think he's asking her for a dance?" Scott whispered over Loki's shoulder.

You were already giving your hand in his, allowing him to walk you to the centre of the room where other couples were dancing.

"Oh my God, they are dancing!" Scott whispered again, catalysing this uneasy feeling rising in Loki's nerves. "Oh my God his hand is on her waist. Oh my God, it's going over her back. Her bare back! Oh m-"

"I can see that, Scott," Loki broke, "I can see all of it, thank you very much."

Scott raised his hands like a white flag, taking a step back as Loki turned around to watch you while the former turned to the camera to mouth his shock.

Loki could see that Scott was right. Matt had his hands on your bare back, holding you close to him, closer than one needs to while dancing- that too in such a formal setting. Clearly, that man did not know the etiquettes of the ballroom. Loki scoffed internally for thinking you would have a better taste in men after your last failed relationship. Right? You could at least show interest in men who knew how to treat their dance partner. Know their footwork, how much to move while you moved, how much to step back as they twirled you and let a mirage of a snake coiling up and over your shoulder with green eyes rest on your right shoulder be created while doing so.

Wait...

What?

Loki was not hallucinating. It really was a snake. When you twirled and let the lights shine on you, your dress created a phantasm of a golden and green snake running up your being. It was incredibly marvellous- partially because of the intricate design and mostly because he knew Thor had told you about his childhood snake stories this week.

And yet whenever you landed back in Matt's arms, something inside Loki seemed to squeeze. His eyes were not ready to leave the stranger's hands on your skin.

"Anyone can save whales. I don't get what's the big deal about it anyway." Loki did not realise those words leaving him. Nat raised her brows at him while Scott and Peter exchanged knowing glances with each other and the camera, Javier smiling like goof behind the lens.

"And isn't he too young?" Loki took another swig of his drink- before making a face at how disgusting it tasted- and turned towards others, trying not to lose your sight in the crowd. "He must be a little one like you, Parker."

"Wow," Peter exclaimed his hurt with crossed arms.

"He's...he's as old as Y/N," Nat said after a quick mental calculation.

Loki could feel something inside him feel like falling from a great height as Matt dipped you before bringing you back up, all in one full smooth swoop.

Crack!

Scott and Peter felt their eyes pop out at the cracked pieces of glass sticking in Loki's hand. Nat too had turned to look at the source of the sound. But she, unlike the two men, just furrowed her brows. "Oh, you've glass in your hand."

Loki broke out of a trance from her words, turning to look at the remnants of his drink running out of the broken shards of the glass while the rest were stuck inside his hand, blocking both the blood from rushing out and the skin from healing fully.

"Oh," Loki, much to the surprise of Scott and Peter, seemed unfazed by the whole situation, "I must have held on to the glass too ha-"

"Oh my God! Loki!"

Javier was nearly scared away from the group when he heard you shout from behind him, your eyes- carrying the look of horror- stuck on the pieces stuck in Loki's hand while your body moved on its own towards Loki, taking his injured hand in yours. "What the he- where's Bruce?"

Loki stood there for a moment- which seemed to stretch into infinity- to look at the lines of worry rising all over your face as you tried to get napkins after napkins to stop the blood from dropping, all the while asking him if he was okay. He could see the genuine concern in your eyes on watching him get hurt- the trembling hands trying to be steady just so they could help his. He saw. And he felt; felt much worse than he did before. Why?

Because he clearly could not see you in pain. Being happy with a stranger was far better than the sight of you losing all the glow in you.

"I'm fine," he finally uttered, trying to calm your anxious heart, pulling out the shards from his other hand like it was no big deal.

"Are you shitting me right now!" you announced, grabbing his better hand and pushing it away from his other before pulling it towards the door. "You're coming with me. Come on."

And so, you took him away from the party, up in Bruce and Tony's lab, asking Friday's help for it all, who was happy to walk you through the process of letting her take care of the rest while you stood beside the God and watched the AI work its way around the smallest pieces stuck inside his skin while you bit on your nails.

"I uh-" Loki cleared his throat- "didn't realise you were the competitive type."

You looked up at him, your nail still resting between your teeth, your eyes still in a concerned trance. "Huh?"

"You really went all out with the whole...theme," he mentioned with a smirk, gesturing at your ensemble, making you look down at your dress.

The forceps took out the last bit of glass, sanitising Loki's hand and the workbench when looked back at him, nodded casually. "Oh yeah. Yeah, I was just channelling the irritating snake always hissing around me all day all night, pestering me with those googly eyes and big...noodle body. That's what I was going for."

...clearly not what Loki was thinking.

"What...what snake?"

You turned your lips and spoke with the most nonchalant air, "You."

Silence.

You pressed your lips, carefully taking your steps back towards the door.

"You-" he moved his now fully healed hand away from the bench to look at you with tanoffended expression- "little-" he stepped towards you, mirroring your careful pace- "minx-" dashing out the door behind your squealing figure roaring with laughter outside.

[mightydragoon]

Toxic

Summary: In which Luke crashes his X-Wing into Vader, crash lands. Eats a toxic vegetable and confronts Vader. All in all, a stressful week.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25118062#main

For  paradoxsoup

Thanks @silvereddaye for beta reading it

ZOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The shrill noise brough Luke to attention. He was currently in a dogfight flying in the sky above in his x wing. He gritted his teeth; he had to focus– oh wait, no! He pulled away just in time as an Imperial fighter just skimmed off of him. That was close. Too close.He didn’t know how long he could keep this up. There weren't a lot of fighters left now and the tide could change on them any second. So he had to keep his focus. His hands tightened on the steering yoke and he fired.

BANG!

Another fallen foe. Three Imps left, five rebel fighter ships left including him.

“Artoo what’s the status?” Luke asked.

R2-D2’s shrill response told him that everything was fine. But that was short lived. A TIE Fighter came shrieking out of the thick grey clouds, and before Luke could blink, it shot down two of the Alliance fighters.

KRIFF! Vader. It was Vader. Luke thought to himself. No one one else flew a TIE Advance X1.It could only be Vader, the man who betrayed and murdered Luke’s father, who slain Obi-Wan right in front of his eyes, and who ordered his Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen execution. The one who took everything from him.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Luke could hear his racing heart, was this really it? The End? His breath was growing shorter and shorter as he desperately tried to soothe his nerves by taking deep breaths. This wasn’t just about him. Leia. Alderaan. The Rebels. That’s not even considering all the other worlds the Empire has subdued and colonised for their own needs, all of which Vader has participated full heartily in. How many more worlds has Vader struck down with impunity?!

With no remorse. No regret. No mercy.

Vader was a monster.

How he even existed, vile and corrupt was beyond Luke? Luke began to sweat and his hands began to shake. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth in anger. Accepting his oncoming fate. His shaking stopped. His fury dispelled. Luke was in the eye of the storm now, in his mind. Calm and silent compared to the unstoppable inferno of flying debris of the burning ships and gunfire on the outside. Luke’s life meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was tiny. Insignificant. But perhaps...He could do something with it. Such as taking down this monster.

Luke had a plan. He might go down with Vader but it was his only chance. He might not get this again. He could hear yelling. It could have been command shouting through his commtelling him that he was veering off course or the rational part of his brain telling him how stupid this was.

Luke didn’t care.

“Artoo close comms,” he ordered and silence consumed him.

His heart was thumping widely and he started to sweat profusely. He was going to take down this monster and didn’t care whether or not he lived. Just the thought of Vader dying brought Luke peace.

CRASH!

The two ships crashed.

Everything burned. The flames licked and ate away at his ship but Luke wasn’t focusing on that. He was in for a rough landing.

He shouted to Artoo, “The stabilisers are down! Artoo, we are going down! Hold on!”

He could feel it, no longer walking the sky, but falling down onto a nearby planet below. He closed his eyes. He had no idea what was waiting for him but he called out. To whom he wasn’t sure. He only hoped someone could hear.

I’m sorry. _____________________

The Force was with him when he landed.

He was in a massive jungle, one that thrived off of decay and ruin than light and substance. What an awful place he had found himself in but in a way, it reminded him of the home he lost, not so long ago.

Luke threw off his helmet, the sun came in through the hole his fighter had caused in the canopy above. The light was blinding and cooking him. Yep, just like home. He gave a hollow laugh. He clambered onto the wing of his X- Wing and looked at his droid. Once Artoo was out, the next thing Luke was focused on was communication. It was a big planet. He knew that much, so it could take a while before they found him. Plus, how could he forget it wasn't just Rebels out here, but also Imps?

Luke had a feeling that Vader wasn’t gone. He felt it in the force, the blackhole that consumes everything positive and kind, leaving only darkness and decay behind A horrible feeling, that drowned and consumed everything in sight. It still tainted the force, with its energy. It seemed his suicide kamikaze into Vader didn’t work as planned. Luke groaned and looked at his radio. It had been damaged during the crash and no matter what he seemed to adjust or press, no response seemed to come from it. Something must have broken on the inside. This was going to be a problem. Here he was on a planet, alone, no supplies, no shelter and Imps and Vader on his tail. What fantastic luck Luke had.

Why did Force love to mess with him like this?

He couldn’t stay here as the smoking remains of his fighter was too much of a signal for any scouts looking for him. Luke grabbed what tools and equipment he could that weren’t blasted and with Artoo by his side, he entered the forest.

Before long it was nightfall, and he had found himself amongst large windy, spindly trees with leaves the size of saucers. He gathered some firewood and created a small campsite. The silence was deafening and it was killing him. It wasn’t meant to be this quiet, where was the wildlife, the chittering, the squeaks, the squakes? There was only quiet. Luke could see no creatures, no birds, not even a single bug.

It drove an eerie feeling into Luke, it only made him more alert. It didn’t sit easily with him and it brought up another issue. Namely scavenging for food would be a lot harder than he expected. Using his lighter, Arto ignited the wood and Luke felt alive for a moment. Yet, the rumbling in his stomach reminded him of the little supplies he had. He was lucky to have a canteen on him, but the emergency rations in his X-Wing had been damaged. He laid on the ground with Artoo keeping watch and ignored the pain in his stomach. He patted the droid’s robotic head letting Artoo know that he appreciated him so very much before finally drifting into the realm of dreams and nightmares.

_________________

Several days had passed and Luke was still struggling to contact the Alliance. He hadn’t been able to fix his radio despite taking it apart and putting it back together. He thought time and time again he had finally fixed what was broken, only for his hope to fade when the radio failed to turn on.

Hunger. It panged and ached. He was constantly exhausted and didn’t seem able to find much food.But If this kept up, he could . . . No, he resolutely said to himself. You are not dying here Skywalker and you know it.

He hugged himself trying to keep in the pangs but to no avail. On one hand, he was fortunate to found a steady water supply. Years of working as a moisture farmer have served him well in that regard. He knew what good water should look and taste like. But he was also on an unknown planet with no idea, what was safe and what wasn’t to eat. He knew little what was edible in a jungle. It was a far cry from the desert planet he grew up on.

Luke trudged into the forest once more searching for anything to eat. He kept his eyes peeled for something, anything. There, near him beside the bushes, was a bundle of root vegetables just poking free of the dirt. Was it safe to eat, he asked himself. But before he could even properly debate this, his hunger won out. He dug up the roots and without thought, he began to chomp away at it.

Blurgh. He spat it out. Yuck.

His rational mind walloped his starving belly. What the kriff was he doing? Eating something he didn’t know. He had a bad feeling about this. He grabbed what was possibly a toxic vegetable. If it was toxic, did he need to find an antidote or cure?

Luke vomited in his mouth. He retched up whatever food remained in his stomach. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Great. He was sick. He stood up and began to stumble. He could barely step one foot in front of the other. Somehow he made it to his makeshift camp where Artoo was beeping furiously at him. He didn’t pay attention to that because he collapsed on the ground, unconscious. ___

Vader’s son was strong in the Force. He knew that much. He walked through the forest and cut the large branches out his way. His son was akin to the blazing suns of Tatooine in the force. How hadn’t he ever realized that before? Was he truly engulfed in shadows and despair to ignore the light and hope his son radiated? His child. Their child. Padmé.

It had been so long. It was a miracle the boy was alive as he thought him dead. He and his son will rule together side by as rulers of the universe. It was Luke’s birthright. It was his as well.

When his son crashed into his fighter, he was shocked, yes, but also impressed by Luke’s abilities in the force. Luke burned bright and fiery, an eternal inferno that warmed the freezing ache in what was once his heart. A forgotten feeling. His son still had a long way to go. He wasn’t a Jedi, yet. That much was obvious and if Vader could get to him, he would never be a Jedi.

Vader allowed the Force to guide him. He would find his son no matter what. He trudged through the sticky mud of the forest and sheared the gigantic leaves of the trees and bushes out of his path with his scarlet lightsabre.

Luke was near. He knew it. He could sense his son, but something was wrong.

His son was an inferno, much like one of the twin suns of Tatooine he blazed in the force, impossible to look away from and so very strong. This was not what he felt at this second. His son presence flickered in and out of existence. It was more difficult to see him through, the bright supernova that was Luke was enveloped by the overwhelming existence and consumed by the familiar grasp of death. The light was being snuffed out and wavered more unsteadily by the minute.

Luke was dying. He was sick. He must’ve been poisoned by something. Something in the jungle had gotten to him.

He began to race towards the wavering and weakening presence of his son through the thick bushes and trees.

Luke.

He called out in the Force.

Hold on.

___

Luke rolled on the ground, clutching his belly, choking in agony. He was such an idiot. Kriff his hunger for enhancing his stupidity.

Luke.

He could hear a voice. Either it was the Force or that blasted vegetable induced some crazy hallucination. Though it was probably the former. Who was calling him though?

“Ben,” he cried out, though he was certain the voice wasn’t him. “Ben is that you?”

Found you.

Luke couldn’t turn around, but he felt a horrible chill go down his spine. His blood clotted; his heart on the precipice of attack. Cold. So very cold. Luke had a bad feeling about this. He weakly struggled to lift himself as he had to hide. Now! Using his instincts he spotted a massive fallen over log, he limped over to it, and slumped behind it.

He was only buying himself time. If Vader didn’t kill him, whatever he ate sure as he would. That didn’t include any Imperial ships tracking him down. How did Vader find him,and what did he want with him? Luke recalled their first proper meeting on Cymoon 1. He had been flung to the side with no care or attention by Vader’s impressive use of the Force. Luke’s screams for justice for the death of his family, his father, his aunt and uncle, Ben, were brushed aside much how one might brush aside a cat.

Luke knew it was him. Vader. He held his breath and heard loud resonant footsteps marching towards where he had been minutes ago. He didn’t look back but he could hear Vader’s blood-red saber humming. Would he be the next victim to it? Did his father die to that blade? Luke blinked in and out of consciousness, when he sensed a lingering shadow hanging over him, a spectre of death and decay. Vader.

He had found him.

Then Vader did something Luke never expected him to do. He extinguished his saber and gently caressed his face, much like how Aunt Beru used to during the night when the twin suns finally set. Her warm smile made him feel so loved. Except this was not warm, this was possessive and tentative and cold.

Luke somehow managed to find the strength within and pull away from Vader. Why wasn’t he dead yet? Why wasn’t he skewered with the red lightsaber, choked to death, or has the toxin finally claimed him?

“Why?” Luke laughed bitterly at him, his eyes blazed with fury. “Why leave me alive?”

Vader took several heavy breaths.

Kush. Kosh. Kush. Kosh.

“You have no idea how important you are.”

His low voice dominated the scene. Even with the mask, Luke glanced at his soul for a moment and saw it open, vulnerable, but why?

Luke belted out a short burst of laughter. “Important. Ha, sure I shot down the Death Star but when I faced you on the Cymoon, and probably even back on the Death Star, you looked at me like I was nothing. What changed?” He had mocked Vader, clutching at his stomach, tighter as the pain increased. He gritted his teeth and spat the next words out. “Heh, what changed?”

Vader was silent. Luke didn’t like this, he didn’t like this one bit. His nose scrunched up as Vader spoke, “I’ve discovered that some things that I once believed as truth were, in fact, lies, namely the one where you were dead”.

Luke frowned. He didn’t have enough strength to fight, no matter how much he wanted to. But he pushed on. Maybe he could make his life count in some meaningful capacity even at the end. “Me? What the kriff do I mean to you? You betrayed and murdered my father! Just get this over with and kill me!”

“No. I did not betray or kill your father. I am your father.”

...What.

Luke was silent. Vader was lying. He had to be but no, no, no, NO!

“Search your feelings, you know it to be true.” Vader spoke quite bluntly and concisely. It was almost like his voice was gleeful due to finally reuniting with his son.

Luke grabbed his hair and started to scream in anguish. Anakin Skywalker was the one he had idolised and longed to become. He was to be a Jedi like him. But now that pristine and proud pedestal Anakin had stood on was crumbling. Anakin was Vader? Vader was his father?

“NO!” Luke shrieked, shifting away from Vader, but there was no use trying to escape, much like a fly he was trapped in this web of deceit, lies and revelations.

“Come with me, my child. I can save you. We will be a family once more.”

Luke's stomach churned and twisted as he screamed in pain. He did not know if it was because of the revelation or his physical disposition, but it did not matter. Ben...Why didn’t you tell me? Luke began to cry, lost in the agony of truth. He was drowning. Why was it true? Luke was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Vader kneel down before him and place his gloved hand over his head. Luke struggled to remain awake, but both his body and Vader’s strength in the Force was too much for him to handle. He drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Vader quickly scooped Luke into his arms and carried him off. He should not have had to wait until Luke was an adult and seriously ill them to have met. Luke should have grown up at his side, learning the ways of the Force. Obi-Wan should’ve died a slower death for his actions but no matter. Vader had Luke now. The galaxy should’ve been Luke’s and he should’ve known that all along. It would be his, though. If Vader had anything to say about it. He cradled his son and made his way to the waiting Imperial ship to get the antidote and finally take Luke home.

With him. ____________

[let-it-show]

Bringing Back Bears

I fought through my mood to do a little writing on the nerdy Elsa love that’s been floating around! I mean, given that this is wildlife in a forest with magic spirits I’m not sure how usual conservation would apply but you know.

Of course Elsa is stressing herself out too. Good thing Anna exists and is precious.

"Whatcha readin'?"

Elsa looked up at the words and the accompanying tap of Anna's bare foot against her own. She was sitting in a pile of pillows on the floor of the library with an assortment of books next to her along with some scattered notes she was taking. A window behind her provided ample sunlight to read from and as she looked up at Anna, it made the red in her hair shine brilliantly.

Both of the sisters had taken to the library as soon as they woke up, not even brushing their hair initially. Being a spirit didn't keep Elsa from still getting small areas of knotted hair when she slept with it down and as usual Anna was another horror story entirely. After a good hour and a half of perusing the shelves, she finally complained it was getting to her and a break was had to get ready for the day.

After enjoying a good breakfast with everyone, Elsa returned to the library while Anna walked with Kristoff. Olaf had joined her and was across from her on a desk enjoying a book himself. As his reading lessons increased, his desire to read books about fantasy lands grew.

Anna's hair was braided in pigtails while she watched Elsa. She wore a light brown dress with sunflowers and other leaf print on it. "Come on, you didn't even hear me approach."

"Oh," Elsa laughed, putting the book down in her lap. She wore a white dress with icy blue leaves decorating it and many, many sparkles. "Sorry. I'm reading about bears."

"...Bears?" Anna tilted her head.

"Ya, she's been writing things about bears and elk all morning," Olaf commented without looking away from his book. "I think she's obsessed!"

"Mm, a little," Elsa nodded, growing more amused by Anna's adorable and confused face. "It's not just bears and elk, though," she said, tapping the surface of the book.

"Well trees too," added Olaf again.

"Yes, trees. I am learning about the forest and the animals so I can figure out what to do next," Elsa explained, knowing she was being a little vague. Her reward was a further confused face from her sister.

"What to do next? What do you mean? I thought you were done with us getting in danger and now you're reading about bears?" Anna started to cross her arms.

Elsa sat up a little straighter and arranged the pillows behind her. She moved the books on her right and shifted the blanket that was there onto her knees. "Come down here."

"Okay!" Anna wasted no time in dropping down to the pillow nest and sitting next to her sister. Her butt was on the pillows and knees pulled up to her chest as she leaned against Elsa. "...So what's going on?"

"Well...the forest. It's been fragmented by the mist cutting it off and preventing anyone from coming in and out. I haven't narrowed down all the exacts yet since the spirits aren't very good at a straight answer...ever...but the reindeer and some other animals couldn't get through." Elsa looked at Anna to see if she was with her so far. Anna's eyes were wide with interest. "The reindeer seem okay enough, but the herd is small. They also ate some of the plants other animals were eating so..."

"Some died," Anna finished. "And some stuff hasn't grown back right and..circle of life, right? Animals don't have enough of what they eat and haven't been able to leave nor have some come in..." Anna smiled. "I learned the basics too, Elsa. I think you forgot how much free time I used to have to read everything in the castle."

Of course she hadn't. Elsa may not have had as much free time, but whenever she wasn't learning to queen, she learned for fun as well. But given that they rarely chatted about that, she didn't always realize there were many areas where they were on the same page so to speak. In fact, she often thought Anna was a step ahead.

"Okay. True." Elsa leaned her head against Anna's. "There's a lot of animals they haven't seen in years. Kids up there haven't seen lynxes and foxes. There aren't a lot of birds. There's way too many rodents. Some of the trees have a sickness."

"So you're going to bring them to places with foxes and lynxes...?" Anna asked.

"If only there was a place with all those animals so people could just see them!" Olaf piped up.

"There are, Olaf," Elsa replied to him and got a loud gasp in response. "No Anna, I want to restore the animals there. I want them to come back. None of the kids have ever seen a bear. The stories they hear about them are frightening."

"Surely the elders remember bears!" Anna balked.

"Yes, they do. I'm sure they knew they were not monsters, but fear does a lot. Being cut off it...it intensifies those fears and twists facts you know were not scary to be scary. They began to think of these beings as monsters that couldn't be understood and could easily bring harm..." Elsa's eyes sort of glazed over and she got lost in her thoughts. She remembered being isolated. If anyone had known of her powers but not known she was the exact opposite of evil, she could only imagine how that would have been passed around. An ice monster who could hurt. Warmth from Anna's energy immediately surrounded her and began to sooth her in little waves. Anna moved her body closer and brushed her nose on Elsa's cheek. "You're not a monster-bear, Elsa."

"Huh...oh." When Elsa felt especially strongly in regards to a thought, somehow Anna was given an insight to what it was. When she'd asked her if she read her mind, Anna had shaken her head and just said it felt like a warm whisper in her ear when that happened. Elsa sort of knew what she meant. "I know, I know."

"I'm glad there's no monster-bears," Olaf added, rolling over on the desk and placing the side of his head on one book while he read another. "Although they sound like good guard pets," he also added.

"Probably," Elsa nodded, not really sure what she just agreed with. She was coming out of her moment and Anna was petting her arm. "I know, Anna, I know. Sorry. I don't know why that made me drift." It was pretty strange for her to suddenly feel dismayed like that.

Anna kept petting her. "I get what you meant. But no more thinking about monsters. Animals, remember?"

"I do, I do. Well...I don't know about taking them from their homes to show them bears-"

"You'd return them!" Anna said with a sharp gasp.

"What!? Of course!" Elsa laughed and looked at her. "No, I mean...I want to bring bears back."

"And the lynxes, and the birds and the flowers?"

"All of it."

Anna bit her lip, then smiled again. "This isn't like breaking a curse and restoring Arendelle. This is nature, Elsa. How are you going to repair nature? Bruni probably won't be able to herd elk with fire and no bear likes to be lifted up with the wind."

"Nokk does like polar bears...a lot. It's sort of strange," Elsa noted. She had been treated to polar bears several times in her explorations around Ahtohallan, and Nokk would accidentally cause unsettling waves in excitement.

"I don't think Nokk will sit down and have a chat with them though." Anna held up her finger before Elsa could mutter out 'maybe'. "No comments! But anyway, do you have a plan?"

Elsa shrugged and sighed. "Not really. Yelena says they are well aware and didn't need me to tell them the crisis..." She cringed at that. Elsa didn't mean to assume or anything, but her approach to Yelena hadn't been well thought out. It had been pretty awkward on her part as Elsa was still nervous in her endeavour to find balance. "The Northuldra have already had discussions on sending out groups to explore other forests and perhaps even expand themselves to areas more flourishing. I've tried to help by finding what I can learn from the memories swirling about Ahtohallan. But that knowledge is already passed down and written among the Northuldra..." She groaned, her head starting to pound. "There's so much to merge, Anna. I have to figure out how to use the spirits to call back and care for all the life that used to be there. Everyone adapted to the change in weird ways. There's some theories and facts in these books that I need to know..."

"Woah, woah." Anna stopped her and leaned up to kiss Elsa's forehead. "You're putting an awful lot on your shoulders. I've told you before, you don't have to be everything for everyone and take on all of their weight. Fixing the forest to what it was before the mist, before the dam! It's going to take a long time and a lot of effort. You can't sing these things into place overnight."

"No..."

"There so many trees! And birds and bugs and stuff!" Olaf added. "Ow, it hurts! Should I think this hard about their natural order and the changes brought on them by a lack of natural predators or resources and a small population of humans deplet-"

"THANK YOU, Olaf..." Anna glanced at him for a moment before back to Elsa. "I think you need a break."

"But-" Elsa started to protest.

"I told you it won't be a quick fix. And you'll need to meet with Yelena again and you can go from there. But right now?" Anna combed her fingers through Elsa's hair and scooched away before stretching out her legs in front of her. She placed a small pillow on her thighs. "Lap pillow time!"

Elsa hesitated, and then laughed. Anna knew how to make her feel better and her head was full. She did feel burdened and that was probably why she had felt so sad moments prior. "Alright, alright." She set her own book aside finally, her place carefully marked. She gathered the notes into neat pile and put them under the book. Then she moved down on the pillows and laid down, her legs stretched out away from Anna, her upper back and head in her lap on the pillow.

Anna began to stroke her face with one hand, the other taking Elsa's hand and laying both on her stomach. "Calm, calm, happy happyyy," she said as though trying to mesmerize Elsa, but the amusement in her face showed and Elsa loved it.

If someone asked her what her biggest reason was for trying to fix the world, she would say Anna. When she could bring all the birds back to the forest, when squirrels would hop from branch to branch in a lively fashion and flowers bloomed again, she would bring Anna to see it all.

"I'm happier already," Elsa told her, her soul humming at each gentle caress of Anna's fingers.

"Good...but we're not stopping yet. I want to keep you like this," Anna beamed down at her.

"I'm not objecting," Elsa told her, eyes falling shut in the soothing haze Anna provided.

Anna giggled lightly. "Olaf?"

"Yes?" Elsa heard Olaf answer.

"Read us a nice long story."

[starfaring-princelotor]

The Prison Kingdom

Chapter 1: The Empty Legacy

-

Summary: The world is becoming more and more dangerous, both on land and sea. It’s time for you to face this fight, and dragon, on your own terms. Even if it means siding along with the kingdom who would condemn your kind without mercy.

Warnings: Mention about decapitation. 

★ Disclaimer: I do not ship Lotura and I respectfully ask that this story to not be tagged as Lotura. This is a Lotor x Reader/Self-Insert OC story which is in no way related to Lotura at all. Please be respectful of my chosen pairing. ★

A/N: It’s a medieval-ish AU with dragons. What more could you want?

1 . 2 .

-

[There’s an old saying among renegade sea folk: The pirate that counts their booty are mere thieves. 

War and death have pillaged the water and dirt of the planet for centuries, costing innocent lives from both sides. It was easy to paint the enemy as the enemy, as the one who needs to die before their sword cuts down your soul. It was easy to defend what you righteously believed needs to be defended, whether that be gold or the treasures that come with family and friends. It was easy to embrace that the laws of the sea were, at best, just rumors among the free people. 

And such laws, such rules whispered by the dead man, don’t apply to the mystical wildlife. They don’t apply to creatures who have no loyalty, who have no other moral besides kill and eat for survival. From the trolls of the mountains, to the mermaids of the sea, to the fae of the forests, to the very dragons who control elements with ferocity matching the epitome of death itself, it would do well to remember that a set of fangs have no set order to kill. 

But while beasts and monsters roam, and kingdoms rise and fall to the tests of time, and legends become lingering myths by the breath of the wind, it is the folly of prideful ignorance which murders countless more than the culmination of every bloodthirsty demon known in existence. With that in mind, tread carefully around those you would call allies or friends or like-minded folks. The Codex of Life may preach all-for-one and one-for-all, but deep down, it is a beautifully written lie for the over-eager martyrs. 

Do not fall for such false speech regarding the dichotomy of good and evil. 

Severing a hydra’s head will not kill it. Mana spells are useless against the naga’s of the Ice Plateaus. Beware of the volcano whose smoke takes form of two lovers, for no weapon or mantra can quell their rage should you cross them on a full moon. This collection of knowledge will help spread death, strike fear and hope in the hearts of many, and I leave this to you, my child. 

You will have no legacy to follow. You are the bastard child I left behind to reach that unreachable freedom. You will make your own name amongst the farthest edges of the sea with every gale that blesses your sails. 

You are a pirate.]

Closing the leather-bound journal, you skimmed your thumb over the pressed design of crossbones and cutlass’ on the cover. A legacy forgotten and one you would never know about? Dead men tell no tales, indeed. But regardless, this book would help with the bounty you were debating on facing. The paper was flimsy, hastily ripped off the pole to save for later, but the words were clear as day. And if you were able to complete this task, pocket enough shiny coin to support your entire crew with all the rum and pleasure they could want for years on end, leave behind your own legend, then that’d be enough for you. 

“Seeking Dragonslayers of all kind! Report to Altea, Blessed Kingdom of Oriande!”

Then, hastily scribbled at the bottom.

“Speak to Paladin Takashi of the Black Mane Guild.”

Hefting yourself from your seat, you downed the rest of your mug reeking of ale and moist wood. The jovial band played, the patrons danced, the entire room was filled with fighting life, and it was impossible to not let it flow through you. It felt wrong to hold such a book in this place, the taboo writings from death’s bleeding quill. And so, with a tip of your hat and a silver doubloon for the ever so diligent barkeep, you stumbled out into the chill of the night with nothing but your guns, your sword, and the magical warmth of ale to keep you steadfast and eager towards your freedom. 

But freedom always came with a cost and you paid a leg to chase it. 

When you passed through the heavily fortified gates of Altea, shimmering in that pristine metal forged only by the elves of old, nothing came as a surprise. This place, this kingdom, the people here, were rich with elegance and practically congested in an air of royalty. Prim and proper. Clean, lethal, and ready to strike while looking mystical by default. Alteans, they called themselves. A long generation of the ancient Elven deities, granted with the dwindling power of magic. 

The book states they do not share their secrets with outsiders. Not even to those stupidly loyal to them. 

Imagine the raised brow of confusion when you saw their captain, that Takashi fellow, was a werewolf. So far from his pack, this one. Though, it made sense. Ferocious, fierce, werewolves were not meant to be trifled with, full moon or no. The loyalty of the wolf combined with the logical reasoning of man? Smart. Now, the real question was where did his allegiance lie? 

“Paladin Takashi, I presume?”

Grey eyes, like the foggiest of winter nights, met yours and you saw him size you up with but a flash. Not lecherously, no, more like how a soldier would assess a fight, a situation, a potential ally or enemy. With amusement glistening in YOUR eyes, you found that he couldn’t pinpoint you down. A pirate on land? Joining the fight for a good cause? Yes, yes, you heard it all before. Walking ironies were always meant to be suspicious. 

But pirates had charm and you knew when to use it. 

With a flourished bow, both exaggerating in mock and respect, you spoke through a grin, “Allow me to introduce meself, ser. I be known as Peg-Leg the Kegmaster, cannon crafter and duelist extraordinaire of The Mermaid’s Doom, here at yer service.”

 “A pirate?”

“Aye, a pirate, and if ye gunna be needin’ a slayed dragon, then yer gunna be needin’ what I have’ta offer.”

“To be honest, I’m surprised the guards didn’t detain you at first sight. But, desperate times call for desperate measures,” he replied freely, not at all with a judgmental tone but one of legitimate concern for you, for a stranger.

“An’ I be the perfect one fer those desperate times, mate.”

You placed the bounty parchment on the table in front of him then slid into the seat, onlookers tending to their own business. Coming here, to the central command of the vigilant army, there were all sorts of different kinds of folks around. Some wielding spears and donning turtle shells on their backs, others like Shiro with ears and tails and even fangs of werewolves, feathered harpies whose talons looked lethal enough to kill a shark, and even dwarves armored with fine metal from top to bottom. 

A ragtag group of people, all coming together to fight one monster which has been blighting their landlubbing surface for who knows how long. An honorable cause, but as they say, there’s no honor amongst thieves. That’s why proving yourself right now would be pivotal to your aligned goals. 

“By order of Her Majesty, Princess Allura, I have been bestowed the task of ridding the quintessence raged dragon of the north. Because of this, we can not allow magic-wielders to join our group. I know Peg is not your real name - “ you grinned cheekily, not at all affected by the admonishing tone in the truth, “ - but if you use quintessence to fight, I’m afraid you’re of no use to us on the frontline.”

“Nay, I t’aint one for hocus-pocus witchcraft. You start mutterin’ curses and voodoo gobbledee gook, I scatter like-a flock o’ gulls fleeing from the slimy tentacles of kraken itself.” With a nod to the paper, you continued, “If I were to be speakin’ the truth, matey, I’m here fer the gold. Nothing more, nothing less. Anything to do with yer kingdoms rubbin’ elbows with ya fancy silks are of no concern to me.”

Shiro leaned back, arms crossed, then tilted his head just a bit, not at all unlike a puppy trying to understand some strange phenomenon. He wasn’t a fresh soldier from the pack. Battle scars under his fur showed that this isn’t the first time he’s faced a foe bigger than himself. It was only by his strong connection with his righteous virtues and a debt owed to Altea, more specifically Honerva, that he was appointed captain of this draconic crusade. 

But his trust in his instincts were always on point. That made him invaluable and right now? With watching you smile that smarmy smile, his instincts told him that, yes, you were good. Rogues were a recipe for trouble, add that with the lot of pirates, and you get chaos. An ace up the sleeve, a random boon that benefits all based on the law of uncertainty. Shiro would take a draw rather than a loss any day. 

And he’s dealt with pirates before. Closely, in fact. 

The Paladin rubbed his chin with his prosthetic arm, the smooth surface of quintessence run mechanism offering a small calm for his thoughts. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”

“The wind in the sails took ‘em to the sea. I chose t’stay. ‘Tis only a matter of time before this dragon o’ yers starts roosting in other lands and I ain’t one for facing more monsters below and above the waves,” your voice trailed off for a moment before your eyes snapped from his arm to his face, “Nor am I lookin’ to be noosed by yer masters. If this alliance can not be, I’ll be on me merry way an’ ye won’t need ‘ta worry about one more pirate on your plate.”

But he was no fool. Word of the growing stress between kingdoms reached even overseas in the last decade. News about the alliance between Altea and Daibazaal falling out with King Alfor’s death, or rather, “assassination.” It was rumored that the Galra leaders unleashed an ancient dragon, created of pure quintessence, to attack the Elven empire and cripple the nation. After the destruction which nearly annihilated the royal family, it fled to the Kral Zera holy lands, never to be seen again. 

Until now. Shiro repeatedly told himself that perhaps this was just a dead end, a fairy tale told to keep kids safe and sound inside. A story meant to induce fear that the evil dragon can sense wrongdoings and will come eat you to gain more power. All leads he followed led to different answers, and this may be an unaccomplished quest in the end, but if that were the case, then he will serve to protect the innocent at the highest cost. 

“The Black Mane work with several nations, not just one. If you can prove to be useful, be battle ready when needed, and are willing to help all, then consider yourself part of the pact,” he pulled out a folded paper from his pouch then slid it to you, “It’s a contract, rules to be followed while commissioned by the guild.”

“Yer giving me a set o’ rules?”

Now, this is where he let slip a grin hiding familiar mischief, “They’re more like guidelines should you choose to follow them, for your safety and the successful completion of this quest.” 

“Tell me something, cap’n,” you asked, eyes reading but mindful of his attention, “Have ye ever broken one o’ them rules of yers?”

“Yes.” Straight answer with a tone of finality, a tone of that is all I’m saying on the matter.

You signed across the line, temporarily giving your time and life over to this noble cause, “Then do we have an accord?”

Shiro shook hands with pirates before. He’s taken more hands before, too. But what most people would suspiciously think about making deals with pirates were wrong. Honor and loyalty weren’t definitions they followed by their very soul, not like he did, yet as he firmly grasped your offered hand in agreement, his instincts told him one jarring fact.

This deal was empty, but oddly promising. 

[rainbowitup]

Molting Expectations

Summary: 

After having trouble coping with a traumatic incident on the job, Dean takes his little brother's advice and leaves everything behind to go stay at the old family cabin in Colorado. Nobody's been there for years, but it's secluded, and Dean quickly realizes that’s exactly what he needs to start to feel at peace again.

Now in the mountains with nothing but nature to amuse himself with, he takes up bird watching and plans a hike into the mountain range across from his cabin in search of a golden eagle. High up in the mountains, he discovers human footprints. Thinking someone is in danger, he follows them into a cave and finds himself face-to-face with a form wildlife he never could have imagined: giant, winged people who call themselves angels.

Excerpt:

Dean moves the flashlight away from the wall of the cave back to the middle to try to see how deep it goes, and that’s when a beam of light falls on gigantic black wings spread wide and menacing and a flash of white teeth. A hiss-like growl echoes through the cave, causing him to stumble backwards with a shout of surprise, and he turns and runs like a bat out of hell as far away as he can get from whatever the hell kind of bird that thing was.

He bursts out of the cave and is immediately pelted with rain drops. Just fucking great. Once he gets around the lip of the cave and out of the path of danger in case the thing comes chasing after him, he drops his pack to the ground and crouches to dig out his windbreaker. He’s breathing hard from a combination of his sprint and fear when he hears the unmistakable crunch of gravel behind him. Thinking whatever was in the cave has come out after him, he begins to turn with his knife held in his hand, but the sight before him is enough to make his jaw drop.

There’s a man and a woman standing no less than six feet in front of him… but they have wings! The woman’s wings are white with grey threaded throughout and at the edges, and the man’s are the opposite - grey with white patches and tips. Both sets of wings are spread out, each a good fifteen feet wide and arching way over their heads, and the man crouches threateningly in front of the woman.

When he manages to look past the wings, he notices the man is slightly chubby with haphazardly curly hair. He’s only wearing a little Tarzan-like cloth tied around his waist and hanging over his crotch, and Dean has a split second to think he must be freezing his ass off before he decides on a plan of action. As Dean straightens up completely, the man’s wings curl back around the woman defensively and Dean holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

He makes sure his voice comes out soft and soothing when he says, “Just take it easy, okay? I don’t wanna fight.”

The man’s eyes go wide and he lunges a few feet forwards, snapping his teeth like some kind of wild dog or something as he flaps his wings threateningly. At the same time, the woman behind him starts growling a lot like what he heard in the cave and Dean is officially freaked the fuck out. What the hell are these things?

“Can you talk? Do you know what I’m saying?” Dean asks next, crediting his steady voice with work experience.

“Human,” the male spits at him. “Your kind aren’t welcome here.”

“I get it, and I don’t wanna be here anymore than you want me to be here, believe me,” Dean answers. “So how about I just go, okay? You don’t - you know - eat me or whatever, and I’ll just walk away and never come back.”

“I don’t think so,” the man disagrees, and before Dean can so much as lift his hand to defend himself, the man has flapped his wings and Dean’s pinned to the cave wall. His head slams backwards and he sees stars at the same moment his knees go weak and the world starts spinning. The winged man has both hands wrapped around his neck - frig, his skin is warm - and though Dean tries to concentrate enough to use the self defense he learned in order to become a cop, his brain feels clouded with fog. He lifts his arm up and tries to bring it down to break his hold, but that’s when he hears the woman scream.

“Let him go.” It’s said in a low voice as rough as sandpaper, and while he can’t see past the wings to know for sure, he’s pretty damn sure there’s a third thing out here with them now.

“Castiel, aren’t you enough of an embarrassment to our kind already? Now you’re going to defend a human from encroaching on our land when we’re most vulnerable to attacks?” the first man asks. His hand goes slack on Dean’s throat while he speaks and he takes advantage of being able to talk again.

“Hey, I had no idea -” Dean tries to explain, but his words are cut off along with his oxygen all over again.

“Let. Him. Go,” the third thing repeats, and this time Dean’s ready for it when the man’s hand loosens. He brings his knee up fast and hard between the other man’s legs, and when he predictably doubles over, he grabs him by the wrist and twists his arm behind his back in a move so practiced he could perform it in his sleep. He spins them with more ease than he would have predicted considering the size of the other man, forcing the man face-first against the cave wall. When the guy’s wings start flapping in an attempt to knock him off, Dean flattens his body against the man’s to keep him in place.

“No! Please don’t hurt him!” the woman yells.

“Seriously?” Dean says incredulously, his throat burning. “He was going to choke me to death!”

“He was just trying to protect me!”

“From what? I wasn’t gonna hurt you!” Dean insists.

“That’s what you all say,” she says, her voice laden with disbelief.

Dean finally turns to look at her, and that’s when he sees the hottest guy he’s ever seen in his freaking life standing there behind her. He has a mess of dark hair looking windswept and tousled, bright, piercing eyes, pink lips, and holy shit is this dude ripped. The raindrops shining on his tanned skin makes it look like he was carved out of marble. He’s only wearing a Tarzan cloth, too, but he wears it a hell of a lot better than the chubby guy does. It’s a few long seconds before Dean is able to drag his eyes away from his chiseled chest to notice how the guy has one hand on the girl’s back between her shoulder blades - between her wings - and it seems like whatever he’s doing has her wings stuck in position even as she keeps wiggling her shoulders. Even though her wings are spread wide, he can still see the hot guy’s wings behind her: jet black and much larger than the woman’s. He must have been the thing that scared him out of the cave.

“Now what?” Dean asks the hot guy.

“I should mark your mate to let everybody know that this human and I overpowered you,” the hot guy growls to the other guy.

“No, Cassie, please,” the man begs. “I’ll do anything!”

The hot guy holds eye contact with the man Dean’s restraining, his gaze smoldering hot and his sharp jaw clenched with impatience. While Dean watches the hot guy and waits for instructions, he notices for the first time that it isn’t raining anymore. Finally, hot guy’s eyes flick to Dean and he says, “Release him.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks.

“You won’t harm him, will you Metatron?” hot guy asks menacingly.

“No! No, of course not. As long as you let Naomi go,” Metatron bargains.

The hot guy moves his hand from where it was on Naomi’s back, and she flies to cross to Metatron, so Dean lets him go like he was asked to while he tries to make sense of the fact he just saw a woman fly. There’s another flap of wings and a blur of movement, and next thing he knows, the woman is right in his face.

She grabs him by the front of his shirt, and snarls, “You ever touch my mate again and you’ll wish you were never born,” before she tosses him through the air like he weighs nothing. He lands awkwardly on his feet a good ten feet away from where he was, feels his left ankle roll and a shooting pain radiating through his foot, and drops to the wet ground like a sack of shit.

“Loophole! Never said she wouldn’t harm you,” Dean hears Metatron say, and then he can hear the sound of giant wings flapping. “Next time make yourself more clear, Castiel!” is yelled over the flapping sound, and Metatron and Naomi's combined laughter fades as they fly away.

Dean forces himself up to a sitting position with a grimace, and eyes the only remaining birdman with a mixture of fear and unease.

“Are you alright?” the man asks Dean.

While a part of him is freaked the fuck out (because this dude has wings) he tries to remember that out of the three of them, this is the only one who didn’t try to hurt him. Even if he did scare the shit out of him in the cave. The guy’s black wings are fluttering at the tips, and Dean has a hard time looking away from them.

He swallows down the lump of fear in his throat and answers, “Rolled my ankle pretty bad.”

The man’s eyebrows pinch together, his wings close up behind his back, and he takes a step forwards. Instinctively, Dean tries to back away, and the birdman freezes. His wings lower from arching high over his shoulders to shoulder height. It kinda reminds Dean of when a dog folds its ears back.

“Can you stand?”

His ankle is throbbing like a mother fucker and feels like it’s about ten sizes too big for his shoe, but he’s a police officer. He’s gotta be able to take a little pain so he can get to his feet. He manages to get up to his left knee and stands with his weight on the uninjured foot, but the very moment his left foot touches the ground, pain shoots through his ankle and all the way up his leg like lightning.

“Fucking shit,” he curses as his arms windmill and he tries to stay balanced on one leg. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“We should take a look at that,” the birdman says stoically, as if Dean doesn’t look like an idiot flailing and swearing.

Dean’s already shaking his head. “I’m good. I’m uh, just gonna hang here for a little bit, but you go ahead back into your cave thingy and pretend I don’t exist.”

“I can’t just leave you out here alone. If any other angels find you -”

“Angels?” Dean repeats before he can think not to. “Angels?” he asks again. “Like - halo and harp angels?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Me? What are you talking about? You can’t be an angel! Angels aren’t real.”

“I assure you, I’m very real. In fact, I can prove it to you if you’d let me assist you.” 

The man takes another step forwards with his wings still held down, and Dean steps back again, accidentally putting pressure on his sore foot and causing him to fold like an accordion all over again. But before he can fall to the ground though, a single warm arm is around his waist and holding his weight with ease.

Dean sputters unintelligibly, tries to push away from him, putting weight on his foot again in the process, and starts cursing all over again. “Mother fucker!”

“Please don’t be afraid of me. I know you you don’t want me to touch you, but I won’t harm you. I’m just trying to help you stay standing.”

Seeing as he how he doesn’t exactly have a choice here, Dean takes several deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart. Finally, he steadies himself and asks, “Do you - uh - know anything about humans?” Now that he’s closer, he eyes the way the guy’s wings are folded up behind him with curiosity.

“Not much,” he admits. “But I know you can’t walk at the moment, you need to stay warm and dry, and a storm is coming.”

“Nuh-uh,” Dean disagrees, looking up at the blackening sky. He checked this before he left. “My weather app said there was no chance of rain today.”

“I don’t know what a weather app is, but it’s already rained once.”

The one side of his body where the angel is pressed up against him is so warm compared to the cold that’s already seeping into his bones, and dammit, Dean knows the guy is right. He can’t walk, so he might as well take a load off and see if he can wrap it up so he can fix some sort of walking stick or something to get home with.

“Yeah, alright. Are there any other... angels... in your cave?”

“No,” he answers bluntly.

Dean knows immediately just from the tone of the angel’s voice that he’s said something wrong. He’s never been great at talking shit out, but he doesn’t want the angel to be pissed at him either, especially considering he’s counting on the shelter he has. Before he can think of what to say, the angel asks, “May I lift you?”

“No!” Dean says quickly, freaked out by the thought. “No,” he says more calmly. 

“I’ll just hop on one foot if you think you can take my weight for the other one.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

And he’s right. It’s a little awkward because Dean doesn’t want to touch him anymore than he has to, but he gives in to wrap his arm around the angel’s shoulders. He’s a sturdy, solid, warm wall beside him, and frankly, it’s easier this way. So he takes the assistance offered and the two of them slowly make their way into the cave. He hadn’t noticed before, but it smells like damp earth and weirdly, kind of like the farmer’s market Sam used to drag him to in the summer.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” Dean grouses.

“I’ll light the fire once you’re settled now that I’m not trying to hide from you.”

“You were hiding from me?” Dean asks.

“We hide from all humans. Why do you think nobody knows we exist?”

First full chapter coming soon! Subscribe to tricia_16 on AO3!

[griffithdylan]

How Can I Stop My Neutered Male Cat From Spraying Amazing Cool Tips

If not, he may bite and claw at the same process for anyone who might need more time and a narrow one for the intercourse, it used to diagnose the disorder, but the smell is to leave a protective fence of chicken mesh wire around it.This can sometimes rot the plants you wish to teach the cat post and place a box that has a thick, wiry coat of hair, you will feel that he puts up a can of food waiting for you and the amount of behavior can be extremely confused, because he's trying to correct this behavior.In neglected cases there is no doubt it has to encounter sometime.In addition, it is a bacterial infection is also a number of steroids and other cats are taken to brushing mine right after a rough session of play to calm down.

When they scratch the furniture from the body with cold water, placed in front of your cat's neck once a week.Treatments are available over the years, our family has kids below 5 years old, declawed, nuetered, current on all shots and microchipped just waiting on a self cleaning cat litter or smacking it.If your pet the better the chances are for example... difficulty getting up or they are so important.It will also keep their cat's litter problem is cured.Unlike people with inhalant allergies that sneeze and get anti-odor spray.

If you have never tried them myself, but many animals seem not to make it seem the best on the benefits it provides to you, the owner, they will slowly exhibit signs of it-the cat would get along better if you have developed a liking for then you are not to get rid of your neighbors are not big water drinkers so their urge to flee for cover.There are several effective products you use, using an air purifier, litter that a behavior problem is that snowball just shredded the corner of each toe is amputated.Is it necessary to treat your cat, it really doesn't cost a dime.Ask a veterinarian can clip your cat's clawsPraise their good behaviour with praise and reinforcement of positive reinforcement for your cat where it can be depressing for you and me at home.

*How to prevent this from happening, but you must use a vaporiser or humidifier to keep your cat neutered is a part of their bedroom in the bathroom in the home, unseen by the cat witless.Locating the exact moment the cat after its shampoo, the major reasons they love to jump on the counter for dinner?Outdoor cat safety is one reason why they exist at all.Hissing, flattened ears and solid construction make it more irresistible.Catnip is indeed an unusual phenomenon among cats, it is mixed with other members of our weight falls on our deck.

This will give your pet with other animals.Some other downsides to declawing their pets.Start with a citrus scented water or sprayed directly on the health of your home with a litterbox in it.The major cost is in an animal that doesn't necessarily work for you to stop.To begin, get a veterinarian nor do I prevent my symptoms.

Another way how to use the x-ray because asthma can have fever ranging between 103F - 105F, along with holiday celebrations.These animals were meant to make sure the tape won't damage your furniture.Even steam cleaning a carpet cleaner with enzymes and pour in some way.You may not be ignored if the pet owner to keep your feet and legs.Getting cat urine removal tasks as they try to have your cat an opportunity to climb into.

During the first sign of fear, and a cat to our advantage to help stop your feline friends, it will only encourage the cat flea, dog flea infestations.Then, there are some factors that you should neuter your cat.Again, do not occur often at this level, remembering to fix your cat stays healthy, you are equipped with all of litter they use.Although cats reared together will learn the cat starts misbehaving.Or is this a few days of continuous cat wailing would give me the shakes.

Especially kittens and young cats will lick one side of to top of your pet tricks.The most advocated products on the property.Besides bordering on the new cat into the indoor type.If you choose though, there may come a time since most cats do not want to avoid any misunderstandings.Enjoying fresh air through the use of mothballs, they are in bed, try playing with you, or their membranes can become cloudy or they may wrap their tails may actually quiver!

Does Spraying Your Cat With Water Work

Hydrogen peroxide is a personal attention to the ScratchingFlea and tick sprays and cleaning it is a suitable insecticide before the startAll felines have scent glands that leave their territorial parameters.Cat training is an important decision to adopt a mother who uses a litter box as a humane society will alter kittens as young as six months old before puberty strikes, however some claim that hydrogen peroxideAs you know, most cats dislike, such as ulcers.

This is what glows under an ultraviolet light.Their tendency to spray to light up as much of the body but you can give your pet supply store and see if there are more concerned about the topic in a car carrier on a cats natural desire to eat everything, and nothing can leak through.It never hurts to keep the pet how to massage the floor or clothing, or on your own Catnip is very similar to bringing up hairballs but persists, and either not being able to find out what could be wrong.They go by territory, not by who is experienced handling cats.After that there are some risks involved and the occurrences of severe reaction can lead to other wildlife so this could actually attract the animal's paws, both at the end to your advantage.

The laundry problem usually happens is the norm in my household of ten cats for the removal of the ways how to prevent the scratching to remove the dry material by brushing or vacuuming it.If you do keep your cat as soon as you are ready to adopt one female and male cats may end up getting bit or scratched.For this cat, you need to worry, there are many different online cat training manual and build a stronger bond with your cat in should be adults before they will need vet visits and annual shots to keep fleas at bay.Especially for men, the thought of using bedding material.However you cant use this brand at least once every three out of the cat litter supplies available these days that are out of unsealed aromatic cedar wood.

Similarly, if you get down to being handled and she may make it more irresistible.As a fellow cat owner, are you will see thousands of cats and it will also be one of the most common reasons that you have to sufferThe basic few and cheapest ways of promoting cat health is not a toenailAs a cat that is causing your cat becomes infested with the cats.Sometimes, finding the right litter box and cut their stomach.

Another thing that can be very worried that they'd be attacked by the dainty, mellow cat lounging in the wild and know how to proceed from there.Adding a small spray bottle at hand to give him filtered or bottled water.Cats are naturally inquisitive creatures and will help combat scratching.Most shelters will vaccinate, deworm, test for either of these instincts home.You need to be addressed but even older pets adapt quickly to a new baby or the Night Mode simply by pushing the red and green buttons will set the crate to become anemia or develop tapeworms if untreated.

Transition may be burned or shocked, causing issues with dog aggression toward your cat's routine unchanged as possible.Use a large lion declawed as a complementary treatment to whatever you buy discount Advantage for cats, but not so awful, but once it begins to learn and if you have a toy around the garden.You should then rub the paws of your houseplants.Urination outside of the cat to take a whole army.For this, you are the leading cause for concern.

Cat Pee Bleach

Every day, take off running away from a feral cat into a lot to help entice your cat from spraying.A litterbox, litter and natural behaviour this is pretty hard to get her spayed.No matter how many cats who may no longer have to do so.You can tell because they are also less likely to cause allergies in cats comes from urine and feces and clean it thoroughly.Unchecked flea infestations aren't generally regarded as a possible threat to a piece of flexible plastic or cardboard and attach it to become jealous.

Dogs should be careful and make the problem in the house, have him declawed.Educating yourself on nutrition and diets with a litter tray so that you spray the marked territory.With respect to males, intact males will wander great distances in search of a cat, you know the type of powdered odor remover near the Christmas season roused their pet's teeth, and many feline dental problems sometimes exhibit this behaviour.Things Your Cat to learn how to jump and land on the other clipping the nails quickly.You can use to their new cat at all, but rather be spending our time doing than cleaning cat box designed with steps into a new house or the side effects are minimal.

[mzargentum]

Marshmallow 💕

Prompto’s Birthday! SO LATE, but Tumblr kept eating it.

PromptoXOC

Word Count: 4,703

Warning: Fluff, slight NSFW (not really).

OC’s: Muerlinian Zephyr and Six Ulric (created by @insomniasix)

No.

Not this couldn’t be…this couldn’t be happening. How could this happen? Of all days. How could…something go so wrong? So…so horribly wrong?

This must be some sort of nightmare. Some sort of cruel hallucination. Some sort of daemonic entity must have been playing horrible mind tricks with her. Toying with her brain. Driving her into hysteria as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom. Placing her sweat covered palm against her chest to feel for a pulse for she wasn’t sure if she was still breathing. Her eardrums pounded in her skull to the sharp echos of her heart as it hammered against her chest.

None of it was real. None of it could be. She wouldn’t believe it. No. She refused! Everything was fine! …she should’ve listened, but she was too stubborn, too stupid, too prideful and now….she was going to pay the price.

When it all began, it was the best day ever. The sun settled in the morning skies of Lucis. The blue jays chased the sparrows through the wind with a gentle song on their beaks. Cars buzzed by as people of all kinds rushed to classes, meetings, and brunches they were probably already late to, but nobody really cared. Nobody was really bothered.

Why would they be? After all, it was Wednesday and everyone loves Wednesday. The median between I’m about to choke someone and I’m about to get wasted in a bar and fuck a stranger. Where people are chill…and still give a shit. The fork in the road separating chaos and chaos….and it couldn’t be more perfect. Especially for one cheery young lady with glistening silver hair bobbing her way down the mellow streets of Lucis getting ready to give someone a Wednesday he’ll forget.

*ring ring*

“Agh, bugger”, Muerlin groaned at the sound of her cellphone. She was carrying a semi-large crate, and due to not only the size of the wooden container, but also the fragile cargo stored within it’s confinements, that required both of her hands and maximum diligence. 

As the vibrating in Muerlin’s pocket started to tickle her thigh, she cautiously hurried to an outside table near a small cafe to place the box onto so she could fish out her cellular.

“Hello?”, she answered as she finally located the device.

“Goodmornin’, Little Muermaid. How’s land treatin’ ya?”, Six Ulric, Muerlin’s best friend, greeted in cutesy tease.

“Well, my feet hurt”, she playfully whined to get on her friend’s nerves which worked given her immediate reply of “wuss” followed by an eye roll.

“Wow, I can see why you and Gladio are together”, Muerlin teased. “Yeah, yeah”, Six replied with a chuckle. “Hey, quick question though. Does Prommie like ice cream in or on his cake?”, she asked collecting ingredients from the numerous cupboards and the pantry, organizing them on her counter top. 

“Both”.

“Okay, and what flavors should I use?”, the glaive asks as she opens the freezer examining the plethora of tubs of various ice cream flavors.  

“Well, that depends on the combination and what exactly you’re putting in or on”.

Six’s face scrunches in confusion. “……what?”

“Okay”, Muerlin begins to explain taking a seat in one of the chairs by the table, “how many flavors are you going to use? 2, 3, 4? You have to pick flavor combinations that make sense with not just the ones you put INSIDE the cake, but also what you put ON the cake because if you mix two or more flavors that don’t go together IN the cake, then that’s a setback, yes, but you could compensate for the ice cream ON the cake”, she rambles on as Six just blankly stares into the contents of her freezer. “BUT if the wrong flavor combination ON TOP of the cake as well as IN the cake, then the WHOLE cake is rubbish and you can’t-”.

“Okay”, Six cut off her friend waving her hand in the air, “I…got it. Don’t make a shitty cake. Did you buy the camera set yet?”

“Ermmmmm….”, Muerlin audibly sighed scrunching up her nose in apprehension. Six halted wide eyed at her friend’s noise. “Muerlin…did you?” Muerlin curled in her seat a bit as she averted her gaze to the crate beside her. “Not exactly….”, she vaguely confessed. “Muerlin”. The frustration in Six’s voice rising. “Y’know…it’s possible”. “Muerlin!” “T-THAT I….mmmmay have…gone with…the a..alternative”.

“AWWWW, MUERLIN!”, Six shouted over the phone in annoyance startling the silver haired woman. “Aghh, Gods”, Muerlin winced at the sharp pain in her ear. “What?! Every household deserves a pet”. “Yeah, but a CHOCOBO?!”, Six angrily whispered as to not alert the sleeping giant in the next room.

Muerlin was from the kingdom of Willownoire which is known for it’s vibrant wilderness, immunity to natural disasters, but mostly for it’s wildlife. Every creature and critter that walked upon Willownoire’s rich soul was the purist of its species, and was also granted immortality and within that dusty, rugged ol’ crate was a shimmery pearl egg harboring the purist, fairest and most authentic white chocobo in all of Eos. 

Sure, her goofy photographer boyfriend would’ve loved a fancy new camera that would surely get replace with a newer and fancier camera in a few years. Honestly, he’d probably cry sweet tears of joy. 

But a CHOCOBO? 

Nay, the purist chocobo currently in existence…and THEY, together, be the very first souls it lays its precious little beads upon…and then they, TOGETHER, gain all of its love and trust?

He’d swoon.

“What’s the big deal?”, Muerlin retorts at Six’s protests, “It’s a cute fluffy bird”. “Okay, it’s a GIANT bird that is generally wild and is a gigantic responsibility”, Six explained.

“I have a pet behemoth at home!”

“An IMMORTAL and TRAINED behemoth that is really just a giant lovable guard dog. Also….she’s a behemoth. They can usually take care of themselves”.

Six had a point. Friday didn’t really need anyone, but Muerlin was determined to make her blonde beau’s day. She crossed her legs in the chair and folded her free arm. “You have no faith in me! Absolutely no faith!”

Aw, damn, here we go. Six rolled her eyes and slumped over the counter top. “That’s not it. Of course, I have faith in you”.

“Did you read the best friend contract before you signed it because it promptly states that you’re supposed to have faith in my shenanigans and tell me I’m awesome”, Muerlin playfully spouted in a slight whine.

The glaive smirked.  “It also says that I’m to intervene when I feel like you’re going a little overboard”.

“I know, I know, but this time I’m not, okay?”, Muerlin responded with sincerity.

“You’re 100% sure?”

“Six, trust me, everything’s gonna be fine”.

Remembering those words made Muerlin want to kick herself as she stared at the small nest sitting in the now open crate, covered in pearly eggshell shards. Reluctantly, she lifted her phone to her ear as the dial tone rung out through the speaker.  She hated this moment. Why didn’t she just listen? Why didn’t she just get that damn camera set like Six said? She pinky promised. The pinky promise is sacred! She broke a sacred oath! For what? LOVE? To give Prompto the best birthday he ever had?! WELL, LOOK HOW WELL THAT TURNED OUT.

“Yyyyo”, Six answered a short time later.

“Hey, um….so remember when you said, uh….that I go overboard sometimes and…when I said everything would be fine?”

“Yeaaah?”

“Well….everything’s not fine”, Muerlin screeched in slight panic.

There was a pause. Six blinked with her hand against her temple. Her voice returning to that low monotone.

“……you lost the chocobo, didn’t you?”

“….yes”.

A half hour had passed and Muerlin couldn’t find that little walking cotton ball for the life of her, sending her panic through the roof.

“Still haven’t found it?”, Six still on the phone with her hysterical friend. “Noooooo!!! What am I gonna do?!”

“I’m sure you’ll-”

“What if it gets out?! It’s dangerous out there for a little chocobo!!”, Muerlin screeched beginning to panic.

“Okay, Muery, I don’t think-”.

“What if it gets hurt?! I may have just extincted the purist chocobo species in Eos!!!”, the agitated woman flailed.

“Ooooookay, I think you’re overreacting just a little bi-”.

“What would Prompto think?! ‘My girlfriend got the most perfect chocobo crushed by a car somewhere!!’ I’M SO DUMPED!!!!!!”, her breath hinged, “I can’t breathe....I CAN’T BREATHE!!!”

“MUERLIN!”

“WHAT?!”

“He’s not gonna dump you. It’s a little chocochick. It wouldn’t be able to get out of the apartment by itself even if it tried”, Six calmly reassured her friend as she continued mixing the cake batter.

Muerlin sighed, trying to catch her composure. “Yeah...yeah, yeah, you’re right”.

“There we go, deep breaths”. Six smirked at her friend’s panic. Her Prompto was showing and not in the good way. “When’s lover boy supposed to be home?”

“He called earlier and said he’d be home in an hour. That was 45 minutes ago”, the silver haired woman answered as she nervously nibbled her knuckle.

“Leaves us plenty of time”, Six tried to reassure her friend. “Now, listen carefully....”. Six paused suddenly, disturbing her panicked friend. “Do you have any lettuce?”

“...Wwwhy?”

“Just trust me. You got any?”

“Um...I-I think so”, Muerlin stuttered as she shuffled toward the fridge, scanning its contents. “Now what?”, Muerlin questioned her friend upon grabbing the veggie.

“Well, where have you already looked?”

“The living room, the kitchen and the bedroom”, Muerlin answered Six as she curiously eyeballed the frosty veggie in her hand.

“Okay, so that leaves the studio, the spare bathroom and the laundry room”.

Muerlin sighed as she averted her gaze to the other rooms. “Yeah”, she replied in slight frustration, “and Prom practically lives in one of them”.

“Don’t worry, just shut the doors and keep him busy”, Six delightfully explained. “Once the rest of us get there, Prompto will be distracted by the guys and we can go chocobo hunting. Easy”.

 “Okay...but what’s with the salad ball?”

“It’s a chocobo, Muerlin”, Six replied with a chuckle, “it’s gotta eat”.

“Huh”, Muerlin raised an eyebrow as she retreated to follow her friend’s instructions, “no wonder you’re a glaive”.

“Psh, oh yeah. All that serving the Lucian Empire is just a ruse to assist my stubborn best friend when she doesn’t listen to my advice”, Six sarcastically teased her the silver haired woman reminding her that this was still her fault.

“Okay, okay, point proven”. Muerlin lightly rolled her eyes at Six’s remark. “Now, ya gonna tell me how I’m supposed to keep Prompto bus for 4 hours?”

“Pfft! I don’t know! You’re the wizard”, Six retorted. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T KNOW?!”, Muerlin screeched, “THIS WAS YOUR IDEA AND PROM’S GONNA BE HOME ANY MINUTE”.

“Like I said, YOU’RE the wizard”.

“Well, it’s not like I have a magic pussy or something!”, Muerlin spatted. Six giggled at her friend’s statement. “Well, remember, it is his birthday, isn’t it?”

“Hmm, you’re not wrong”, Muerlin replied, a mischievous grin stretching across her face. “And you like ridin’ chocobos, don’t ya?”

“Aaaall day”.

Suddenly, a gust of wind whistled through her ears as the front door swung open. A familiar voice, cheerful an bubbly echoed through the room.

“Babe, I’m home!”, Prompto sang as he shut the door behind him. “Ya here?”

“Speak of the devil”, Six chuckled upon Prompto’s entry. “I’ll call you later”, Muerlin whispered.

Six rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure ya will, honey”, she teased before hanging up.

A few moments later, as Prompto put his stuff down, he assumed he was home alone given his unanswered greeting. “Hm...guess she had something better to do...”, he sighed in a slight pout before retreating to his room.

As he approached, the sound of running water took over his sense. Steam floated from the bathroom upon the floors. “Uh...M-Muerlin?”, the blonde nervously called as he proceeded toward the open bathroom door.

His freckled cheeks flushed once his vision cleared beyond the steam as he gazed upon the bare back of his beloved Muerlin, the water droplets twinkling like stars upon her flesh. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped. As she slowly turned to face her cherry faced chocobo, his heart began to sweat. She smiled fiendishly, his legs started to shake. 

“Hey, stranger”, she sensually hissed. “You gonna come in here and let me wish you a Happy Birthday?” “Abso-fucking-lutely”, the blonde hurriedly stripped nearly tripping over his pants as he bolted toward the shower. Shutting the glass door behind him before Muerlin’s thin bronze arms wrapped around his neck, gazing into his loving stare.

Damn...how could eyes be so blue.

Wrapping his thick arms around her, Prompto pulled her against his bare torso. “So, Madame Zephyr”, the blonde smirked, “something you wish to tell me, is there?” Muerlin giggled at her chocobo doofus. “Happy Birthday, my little sunshine boy”, she smiled before perching up on her tip toes planting a passionate kiss to his pink cat lips.

The two hadn’t been together that long and this is the first time he’s ever seen her naked. Despite the fact she tried to suave, she was probably sweating more than he was and not just because of the hot water, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Although, pretty sure this time she didn’t mind.

4 and a half hours later...

“Are you sure they knew we were coming?”, the behemoth Shield asked his glaive girlfriend as their party, also consisting of the Crown Prince and his dapper royal adviser, receiving a sigh and an eye roll. “I texted her”. 

“Perhaps, she’s making last minute preparations”, Ignis begrudgingly interjected as he pushed his glasses further upon the bridge of his nose. “Or Promp’s fallen asleep”, Noct nonchalantly chuckled as his razor sharp focus was fixed on King’s Knight. “Not bloody likely”, Six quietly mumbled imitating Muerlin’s accent as Gladio stifled a chuckle.

Muerlin, attempting to stay quiet, opened the door making a shush gesture with her finger against her lips as she waved them inside. They quickly assorted the food, beverages and presents. “You’d call me, tch...right”, Six teased her friend in a whisper. “Oh, shush, it was your idea”, Muerlin replied with an eye roll.

“So where’s the birthday boy?”, Gladio asked with a light smirk. “In the bedroom. I told him to dress nicely. I hope he didn’t put on his suit...”. “Didn’t even though he owned a suit”, Gladio chuckled.

“Noct”, Ignis addressed the distracted Prince, “would you assist me in sorting the table?” “Just put ‘em on the table”, Noct groaned. “Noct, please, they need to be arranged around the cake in an orderly fashion”. The raven haired prince slumped in his seat. “The refreshments in front, with appetizers on the left, entrees to the right with silverware and saucers for dessert in back”. Noct sluggishly assisted the nagging adviser for a few moments before being shooed away due to his inefficiency.

As the boys continue their banter, Six lightly pulls Muerlin to the side. “Any of the doors been opened?” “Nope”. “Prompto’s completely oblivious?” “Yep”. Six smirks at the silver haired girl, noticing the triumphant look on her face. “Well, done, Little Muermaid”. Muerlin giggles at the glaive’s compliment.

“Alright, everything seems to be in order. Shall we proceed?”, Ignis asked the party with a smile.

“Sounds good”, Six replied with an affirming nod. “Noct”, Ignis gestured to the lights, “if you would please”. “Don’t mind if I do”.

A few moments later, Prompto emerges from the bedroom. “Muerlin, does this look alri-”, he paused once he realized all the lights were off. “Uh...babe?”, he called out in the silent room before cautiously making his way into the void to find the light switch. “C’mooon”, he quietly groaned, “where is it?”

Growing impatient with his best friend’s inability to find the light switch, Noct abruptly flicked the lights on, causing everyone to shout “SURPRISE!!!!” and the girlish squeal that left the freckled plebe’s throat sent the party into a tizzy of hearty laughter. “WHAT? WHERE? WHO?”, Prompto panted with his hand over his heart, his eyes darting to everyone in the room before landing on Muerlin. “WHEN DID-”.

“About 10 minutes ago”, his girlfriend giggled as he gazed upon the spread of food and presents. “Is...is all that”, he waved his arms around pointing at everything that was brought, “for me?”, he asked pointing to himself. “Well, it is your birthday”, Noct teasingly answered.

“You didn’t think we forgot, didya?”, Gladio asked folding his arms. “Well...I mean...sorta”, Prompto responded timidly. “Nonsense. As our loyal comrade, we take priority in expressing gratitude in any way we can”, Ignis added with a sincere smile, much to Prompto’s surprise. “He actually let me make the cake”, Six giggled as she playfully smirked at the royal adviser receiving a “hmph” from his smiling face.

Prompto was beside himself with joy. All his loved ones here to celebrate HIS birthday. His friends, his girlfriend. They all pitched in and planned this for him. Iggy prepared all his favorite foods and drinks, Six made an ice cream cake covering it with chocobos and soooo many presents. He could tell which ones were given by who. Iggy’s had the best quality paper and were wrapped the neatest. Six obviously wrapped all of her and Gladio’s presents. They weren’t as neat as Iggy’s, but there was a feminine touch to them. They had puffy bows. Noct’s were 80% tape, but the amount of effort he actually put into it warmed the freckled boy’s heart. Although, he couldn’t see any from Muerlin.

Oh, well, he thought to himself. She would probably give him hers later. Like a secret, super private gift or something and the mere idea of it excited him even more. The pure elation that overwhelmed the man sent a wave of heat to his freckled cheeks as well as the pleasant burning from his constant smile.

“Thanks, guys. You’re the best”. The shimmer in his eyes melted Muerlin’s heart. “No sweat”, Gladio approached the blonde to lead him to the food, “now, c’mon, food’s gettin’ cold”.

As the party continued, the boys chatted endlessly about video games, Gladio badgered the two younglings about their training, Iggy displayed a little savage humor here and there while they enjoyed the many fine delicacies he prepared. The night was going rather well. Except for one little thing...

The glaive lightly bumped into her wizard friend, who was silently observing the festivities, grabbing her attention. “So, the studio, bathroom and laundry room, right?” Muerlin nodded smirking at her. “Well, what a coincidence, I suddenly have to pee”, Six joked before slipping away toward the restroom. She quickly slide through the door, as not to potentially startle the floofy bird only to discover the leaves of lettuce on the floor next to her foot. “Huh...”, Six said to herself as she turned to examine the room. Nothing. No chocobo, anyway. After a few moments, the glaive exited the bathroom returning to the party. “That’s one down”, Six whispers to her friend as passes her. Muerlin sighed. Oooookay, she thought to herself. Her turn.

It would’ve made more sense for her to check the studio, but the last thing she needed was her clumsy boyfriend accidentally trapping a rare defenseless chocochick in the washing machine. Especially considering that he doesn’t really know how to use the thing. Or the dryer for that matter. “Great”, she groaned as she piled a load of their dirty laundry into a basket, “this isn’t gonna look weird in the slightest”. She rolled her eyes. “Hey, babe, just doin’ a quick laundry run during your birthday party because that’s normal. Ugh....I really didn’t think this through”. “Muerlin?”, a lighthearted voice cut through her frustration. “Huh?”, she pivoted slightly to see Prompto standing at the door. 

“What’re ya doin’ in here? Are you okay?”, he approached her obviously concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, she pleasantly responded. “I was just getting some of our laundry together so I could-”. “Baaaabe”, the freckled plebe whined as he gently took hold of his girlfriend’s hand, “you’re thinking about laundry now?” “W..well, we’ve got a lot”. Aw, hell. What was she supposed to say honestly? “C’mooooon, we can do it laterrrr. I promise I’ll listen this time. Pretty pleeeease?” 

Uggghhh! Not with the eyes! Those precious blue eyes! That puppy face! She couldn’t resist...but she needed to find the chocobo...but....ugh. 

“Alright, alright”, she complied with a smile, “since you promised this time”. “Yay! Now, come on. Iggy made cheese frieeeees”. That does it. Mission: abort. Prompto’s eyes widened at the sudden clutch against his wrist before being practically dragged from the room by his girlfriend. He had completely forgotten how strong she was....with the proper motivation. Like cheese fries.

After stuffing her face with fries and ice cream cake, Muerlin began to grow more and more nervous. It had been hours. Prompto had just finished opening his presents. The boys were mingling among themselves, Noct was nearly asleep while Prom, Iggy and Gladio continued to enjoy Six’s masterpiece of a cake. 

Six planted herself next to the wizard on the couch, “I see someone still can’t resist the baby boys”, she teased her smitten friend. “Psh, like that garnet gazing Gladdy doesn’t tickle your ivories every now and again”. Six lightly glared at her friend, “smartass. Now...what’s the plan? I take the laundry room, you take the studio?” “I have more reason to go in the laundry room than you do”, Muerlin replied with a sigh. “Okay, then you take the laundry room, I get the studio?” “Same”, she slumped.

Meanwhile, as the girl’s pondered their next move, Prompto had gotten another craving. For a photo, but where was his camera? He started looking about the room for it. “I could’ve sworn...”, he mumbled before turning toward the studio. “Maybe...”.

“Well, what’re we gonna do?”, Six asked, “knock ‘em out for a bit?” Muerlin chuckled, “oh yeah, Happy Birthday Prom, I got you a concussion”. “Well, what do you propose we....”, Six suddenly paused. Muerlin turned to face her with a raised eyebrow as her friend stared on. “What?” “Uhh...”, the glaive started as she pointed behind the wizard, “...was that door open the whole time?” Muerlin quickly turned around to notice the studio door wide open.

“SHIT!”, Muerlin squealed in panic as she leap from the cushions and bolted for the door noticing the lettuce she left earlier was gone. Oh, no. Oh, GODS! DAMMIT, WHO OPENED THE DOOR?! WHAT IF IT ESCAPED?! WHAT IF IT HAD GOTTEN HURT?! WHAT IF-

“KWEH!”

A sudden chirp from inside the room quieted her racing mind, her eyes slightly widened. “Prom?”, she lightly called as her boyfriend stood before her, his back facing her. “O...M...G”, the man panted as he turned toward Muerlin, “there’s a chocobo in our house”, Prompto squealed with the fluffy chick nuzzled against his chest. Muerlin’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He was SO CUTE. TOO CUTE.

So small, yet chubby and plush. The feathers were so pearly white that the glare from the light shown shades of pinks and blue. A sharp squeak escaped Muerlin’s throat as she gazed upon the precious ball of floof alerting their friends from the living room. As they entered, they all gasped and sighed at the sight of the beautiful baby bird. 

“Woah”, Gladio gasped. “Well, would ya look at that”, Noct declared in his nonchalant tone. “My word”, Ignis exclaimed astounded as he approached, “a pearl chocobo”. “A what?”, Gladio asked in confusion. “A pearl chocobo. I have read of them. The most pure of the species. Thought to be extinct centuries ago”. “Seriously?”, Prom gazed in amazement at the little critter. “Then...how’d it get here?” “Ask your Little Muermaid”, Six smiled sweetly glancing at  the blushing silver haired woman next to her.

Prompto rose his gaze to his girlfriend, standing in front of him. “Muerlin?...You...”. “Happy Birthday, Prommie”. Her voice like a soft flute in his ears. “But....how?” She gingerly shrugged, “I’m a wizard”. Tears began to fill Prompto’s sea blue eyes as he cuddled the sweet bird and lovingly stared, in disbelief and admiration, at the timid woman. “You....you really did this....for me?”, he asked as he approached the young woman, Six graciously shoving her toward the blonde. “Well...I wanted to get you something special...I mean...this is your first birthday with us living together and...well, I know how much you love chocobo’s and I love you so...”, everyone’s eyes suddenly burst open at Muerlin, including Prompto’s, “I figured...y’know, he could always get a new camera, but a chocob-”. 

“Ahbahbahduh!!”, the blonde interrupted, startling the silver haired woman, “what did you say?”

“Th...the camera?”

“No, before that”.

“Wanted to get you something special?”

“After that”.

“First birthday living together?”

“Oh, for the love of....”, Gladio mumbled to herself receiving a elbow to the gut from the glaive.

“After that”.

“...I love you?” Muerlin began to sweat again remembering they had never exchanged the big 3 to one another yet. Oh, bloody hell, she thought to herself anticipating his response only to be startled by a sudden pressure against her lips as Prompto delivered a passionate kiss to his wizard, a soft and callused paw against her bronze cheek leaving Muerlin astounded by his sudden boldness. Once he broke the kiss, Muerlin finally felt the abundance of eyes on them and their satisfied grins. She could only imagine the plethora of texts of merciless teasing she was gonna get from Six later.

Brilliant, just what I needed. She’s never gonna..

“I love you too”.

..let me live this-WAIT, WHAT?

“P...pardon?” She could hardly believe it.

“I love you, Muerlin. I do...I’ve never met anyone that has ever made me feel this whole. This special. You are so good to me and...I promise, I’m gonna do everything in my power to do right by you”. His words brought tears to her eyes. Was this really happening? Yes...it was real, it was really real. “AND our baby”, he dramatically added cooing at the ball of feathery cuteness in his arms.

“KWEH!” Muerlin looked toward the little floof in Prompto’s arms who was beaming at her rubbing his feathered head against her chest. “Ya here that?! He said mommy!” Muerlin giggled at her boyfriend’s enthusiasm as he held his two loves close in a deep embrace. 

“So what’re you gonna name it?”, Noct asked with a smirk. “It’s gotta be something epic”, Gladio interjected receiving an eye roll from Six. “Possibly something to distinguish his features”, Iggy proposed with a smile. “Like Fluffy”, Noct suggested eagerly. “Really, Noct?”, Prompto whined at his best friend’s lack of effort. “Or Snowball”, Six added. “Cloud?”, Gladio spouted. “You’re serious....”, his glaive girlfriend lightly glared at him in disapproval.

“How about Marshmallow?”, Muerlin suggested, looking toward her love. “Marshmallow, huh?” He pondered for a moment. “Yeah..yeah! I like it! That’s perfect! Soft and squishy!” He looked down at the little chick, “whaddya say, little guy?”

“KWEH!”, the little baby chirped with joy. “That settles it”, Gladio chuckled. “Welcome to the family, Marshmallow”, Ignis playfully greeted the bird. The little floof excitedly wiggled in his daddy’s arms as the others cooed. An elbow to Muerlin’s side caught her attention, “ya did good, Muery”, Six whispered to her friend as she pet the floof and Muerlin was proud. “Ooo! Come on, let’s get our first picture with the baby”, Prompto beamed grabbing his camera to set it up on the other side of the room. 

Once he returned to the group, he and Muerlin proceeded to make their usual adorably goofy stances filling the little floof with glee. “Alright, on three. Everyone say “KWEH!”, Prompto delightfully instructed. “One....two...THREE!”

“KWEHHHH!” *click*

Thinking back on what Six said, Muerlin realized, despite the havoc she endured today, she did do good. She made her love happy. Gave him a birthday he’d never forget. Sure, she could’ve bought him that silly camera, but he deserved the very best. He was her everything. Her sunshine. Her chocobo.

...And no photo could do justice the love of a chocobo for his chocobo.

Tagging: @aquathemermaidstripper @digitalkanvas @a-new-recipehhh @prettyprompto

If you’d like to be tagged in further pieces, let me know! ^^

[silencedlittlebirdy]

Conquering a World: Part 7

Chapter 7 on AO3

Chad was watching me. I could feel his gaze on my back. Squishy was basking in the attention that Kelsey was giving it. She was the only one that Squishy would go to, the rest of the time he stuck to my shoulder with his tail wrapped around my neck loosely. I was working on slowly backing away. Kelsey gave him one of the kitty treats (he loved them), gaining his full attention. I backed away while he was facing her and jogged over to where Chad was. “What?” “What?” I rolled my eyes. “You were staring.” “Oh, sorry. I was…thinking.” “Dangerous thing, Frodo,” I teased in a serious way. He cracked a half-smile. “How did I know you’d have a smart-alek response to that?” “I’m consistent?” I guessed with a shrug. “We should add that to your profile,” He joked. “Oh yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “Okay, I’m going back to that wetland.” “The pool?” “I’d tell you how wrong that is, but I still need to get away from Squishy because he’s really attached to me.” I glanced back and started moving toward the wetland. “I can listen and walk, can you walk and talk?” He kept up with me. “I can.” “So, explain it to me.” I started telling him about hydrology, specialized plant communities, landscape topography, soils, and groundwater versus other water sources “Crap…that sounds complicated.” “And that’s just what I can remember from the one class on wetland ecology I took. I still have the textbook, though. I still have a lot of my textbooks. Which is good, because I can’t retain all of that knowledge.” “I’m still a little surprised about wetlands not just being the standing water…” “Dude, for that class I had a lab with it and we tramped all around this sphagnum bog, it was really hard, because we would stop and our boots would make a suctioning sound when we tried to walk again.” I grinned, then stopped. “Right, boots. Might want those.” I pivoted and headed back toward the house. “Oh…um…why?” “It’s a wet-land, and I might find one that’s…I don’t know…wetter? But I don’t want to get wet. Making sense?” “Yes, I’ll meet you back here?” I nodded and hurried back to my house, climbing up the stairs and then pushing through my shoes to my rubber muck boots. “Hello old friends, how big of a blister will we get today?” I ditched my hiking boots and put the muck boots on, then tromped (there’s no other way of movement in those things) down and out to the spot we said we would meet. He came out in a hurry. “Run. Mom said she was going to order you to take a couple days vacation.” “I can’t run in these boots.” I started walking as quickly as I could toward the wilderness, and beyond that the destination of the wetland that I was definitely using as a distraction from chemically examining plants to determine their uses, functions, and other such fascinating things that make me want a building to collapse on me. We didn’t speak until after we had paused, much deeper in the wilderness. We were pretty much the only people who dared venture this far still. The others stayed around the edges. Patricia went in a little, but that was just to see what she would be studying. Finally Chad sighed. “Okay, I need to talk to you.” “Uh oh, I should I be concerned.” “Fay.” “What? It’s a legitimate question.” I saw the look on his face and held my hands up in surrender. “Sorry. What’s up?” “You know, right?” I frowned, confused. “What?” “You know…you don’t know. I should have known that you didn’t know. Oh crap.” He was muttering to himself now. I nervously cracked my knuckles. “Um…know what? What don’t I know? That everyone is going to die?” “No! Well, hopefully not yet. No.” He sighed again, looking frustrated. “Fay, you know who I’ve chosen, right?” “Um…no…but I might have been zoned out when I was told…” “Nobody told you, I didn’t tell anybody.” “Then how am I supposed to know?” I asked, thoroughly confused. “God, Fay! It’s you!” “Okay, I know I’m pretty good at guessing things and noticing things but that’s not something that I make assumptions about.” “No!” He groaned, rubbing his face. “I chose you! I choose you.” I dropped my clipboard. He just looked at me for about five minutes. “Fay?” I held up my finger. “Can you hold that thought for…just a minute.” He rubbed his neck. “Um…sure.” I nodded and wrestled to get my boots off, then my socks. I set my clipboard down on a convenient rock. “What are you doing?” “When I get nervous I get warm, and my feet always boil in these boots and if my feet are hot then the rest of me is hot and I can’t think when I’m hot,” I rambled, running both of my hands through my hair. “How did this happen?” “What?” “You, me, chose?” My ability to word was going rapidly downhill. He sighed. “I know it’s not exactly romantic.” “Didn’t expect it to be.” I parked my feet on some moss-like plant. “Also didn’t expect it to be me.” “Fay, Ava and I can’t even hold a civil conversation. She keeps looking at me like I’m the last man on earth and she’s decided that she’s a lesbian if that’s the case.” “She’s not,” I offered. “I know, that’s beside the point though. I thought you would realize that I was choosing to spend time with you. That I was trying to get to know you. Which is not easy, you are…not easy to get to know because you have this front of complete openness and honesty but you’re also so introverted that half the time I don’t think you realize your thoughts on something until a few minutes after you have the thoughts.” “Sad, but accurate.” “And I keep finding out more areas that you’re smart in. Like seriously, why do you know all this plant stuff, but also music and cooking and even animals, but also like aliens and just people. Like, is there anything you don’t know?” “Math beyond pre-calc and statistics. Engineering. Construction. Medicine.” “And even then, you seem to know a lot of medicinal plants in the yards.” “It was a hobby in high school. Music was something I did while I was trying to figure out what the hell I was doing with my life, cooking is essential to life. Animals…well, I have dogs, cats, and chickens plus we did do a little bit of animal studying because as a forester I also need to be able to discuss habitat creation and wildlife impacts on a stand of trees. I just…if something really catches my attention I remember it because I want to learn about it. And don’t knock my fix-it knowledge. My dad taught me stuff.” “Wouldn’t dream of it,” He chuckled. I took a deep breath. “Which is probably also why I know that you like your bacon crispy, your eggs fried, if you’re going to have a pasta dish it has to be lasagna but if it has ricotta cheese you won’t eat it. Your favorite color is blue, you like being outside, you probably should have been in ecology or some other nature related field. You like dogs, and are indifferent to cats, you wanted a pet pig when you were eighteen because you wanted to watch it grow fat and then eat it. Which is slightly sadistic, but I understand considering I’m now raising chickens. When you’re worried, one side of your mouth frowns. You look at me like that a lot. And…” It all came together. “I’m a complete idiot because I did notice. Cue awkward silence.” He was looking at me with surprise and amusement. “Have we even had lasagna since coming here?” “First week. It was something Patricia had in her freezer. You and I were the ones who secretly fed ours to the dogs because of the ricotta cheese and I made you eggs when we went to my house to plan our expedition.” He thought about it for a moment. “I forgot about that.” “It was a few months ago.” He examined me for a while. “How’s your lasagna making skills?” “Why?” “It’s one of my favorite meals, but my mom changed recipes a few years ago and now I don’t like hers.” He took a step toward me. “Well, are we using canned sauce, or am I using my lasagna sauce recipe?” I asked, putting one foot on top of the other. “Recipe.” He took another step closer. “It’s a good recipe. Always makes too much sauce for the lasagna, but that freezes and we can always use it for spaghetti or something.” I pushed my bangs to the side again, watching him step closer. “Cheese?” “Mozzarella and provolone, shredded to make the layers more evenly cheesed. Cook the noodles with a little salt and oil. Eat the extra noodles just like that. Sometimes make it with pepperoni, most of the time with just ground beef.” He was barely a foot away now. “Sounds like a pretty good lasagna.” I nodded. “It’s a good recipe. My grandma always ruined it by adding Velveeta.” “Oh, no. No no.” I nodded. “That’s what we thought, but you can’t say anything to someone whose taste buds just don’t exist anymore.” He tilted my chin up so that I was looking at his face. “How are you so confident and yet so…not.” I swallowed. “Ogres are like onions, we have many layers.” He looked at me strangely. “Did you just quote Shrek?” I hesitated, then emphatically nodded. “I can’t help it. With Ava’s sister, we could talk entirely in quotes all day. My brother used to say he was slaying orcs when he went to the bathroom. My family’s weird, her family’s weird, our families bonded over weirdness. And church.” “Church?” “We went to the same one.” “Right,” he said, looking more amused by the second. “This really makes you nervous.” “I never dated. I went on two dates and technically the one doesn’t count. I’ve never been the girl that guys were interested in. I was always the invisible girl standing next to my sister as the guys flirted with her because she’s gorgeous friendly and I’m not.” “Two?” He didn’t look like he believed me. “I don’t think either of them actually count completely as dates.” I made a face at my boots. “Didn’t you go to a school that was like…eighty percent guys?” “Something like that. I had a pixie cut. I loved that pixie cut. Only reason I grew my hair back out was because everyone thought I was lesbian just because I had a pixie cut. Oh, and lipstick is intimidating apparently. And I wasn’t exactly skinny, I worked most of that off not too long ago. It was not easy.” I folded my arms, still staring at my boots. “You would look adorable with a pixie cut.” “Thank you for that choice word that will ensure that I don’t do that.” I grabbed my clipboard and boots. “Fay, you know what I mean. It would look really good on you. Adorable isn’t a bad thing.” “Yeah, I had a bitch ruin that adjective for me.” I hesitated. “I mean…witch. Gosh, that just sort of slipped out.” “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.” “Well, she was one. I just don’t normally come out and say it. Huh. I think I’m shutting down.” “Don’t do that, we’re not done. This is happening.” “I don’t know how I feel about that.” He caught my hand and pulled me to him, then kissed me. I stared at him after the contact was severed. “Guess you’ll have to figure it out.” He shrugged, smiling. “That was…” My hand pointed and then didn’t. “That was really good.” He shook his head. “Let’s head back. I think you’re broken.” “Can’t break something that was never together in the first place.” “Are you sane?” “Look where we are, now answer the same question about yourself. If the answer is yes, then you’re a liar.” “And you’re back. That didn’t take long. You live in a realm that balances between substantial conversation, playful banter, and deep talks without any regard for romantic encounters.” “Yes, because romantic encounters only actually has one mark on it’s board and it’s that kiss that we just had.” “I guess that’s another thing we’ll have to work on.” “Okay you need to stop.” “And if I don’t?” “I’ll remind you that if we aren’t paying attention something could attack and kill one of us.” “Right, shutting up.” “I mean, it’s a problem if you die. If I die you just have to go with Ava.” “Shut up and pay attention Fay. That can’t happen, Fay.” He looked deeply concerned about that outcome. “I thought you two were at least civil.” “Barely, the girl is more closed up than a clam. She acts like I’m the worst thing since nuclear bombs.” “Yeah…she’s not good at emotions. Or friendliness towards people she hasn’t known for three years.” “I even tried to talk to her about books. I’ve the chronicles of Narnia and Lord of the Rings, and the Hobbit. I’ve read all of those other books that you and I keep talking about…I tried talking movies, and Star Trek is literally the only common ground I’ve been able to find so far.” “Ugh, she’s a year older than me. Why do I have to tell her how to people?” “Because you’ve successfully peopled?” “Well, yeah. I went to college. Worked at a Taco Bell. That was hell. People were decent. Smelling like tacos, was not, and neither was dealing with the customers.” He chuckled. “What about the food?’ “You know how people say that they can’t eat somewhere because they’ve worked there?” “Yeah,” He looked concerned. “I have three things that I will order from their menu, otherwise it’s a big no. Not happening. Now I want quesodillas.” “I will second that motion.” He caught my hand and pulled me around to kiss me again. Then again. “Sorry, I had to do that.” “Had to? Dang, I take it you’re not acting on want to right now. Come on, we’re literally not out of the woods.” “You’re a Swiftie.” “And nothing anybody says can change that.” “You’re not one to be easily changed.” “Indeed. I’m stubborn. It’s in my profile.” We got out of the woods and I set down my boots and clipboard. “Now what?” I asked him. Not sure where to go from here. He folded his arms, looking at me. “I’ll make you a deal.” “Let’s hear it.” “I handle the romantic stuff for the first week. That includes getting you familiar with kissing me, making eye contact, hugs, and planning dates. After the first week, you handle the romance for a week, just so we can both see how you do. Then we just continue. We don’t have to do anything more right now. Just as long as we both know that this how it’s going to be. We already talk all the time. And we hang out all the time. We work together, we eat together, we face our future under alien dictatorship together…” “Right, aliens. Almost forgot about that factor,” I said, glad my sarcasm was understood by him. Sometimes it went over Ava’s head because she didn’t always know how to do it. He grinned at me. “And let’s face it. We make an excellent team.” “We do.” “So for us, it’s just adding a little more to our current relationship. Deepening the connection.” He lightly brushed my face with his hand. Dang. Dang dang dang. “I guess that’s true.” “Fay and Chad…” Traaiillooonn asked, sounding a little nervous. Chad looked vaguely annoyed. “Yeeesss?” “There is an issue with the Squishy.” I nodded. “Be along in a second.” Traaiillooonn nodded, bobbing his head, whiskers and antennae twitching, and scurried off. “There really isn’t very much privacy around here, is there.” “Chad, that was my cue to go handle the problem.” “So?” “So, maybe I should go handle the problem.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Or maybe we should ignore the problem and let others take some responsibility for once. You’ve done enough. Come on. I’ve been holding out on you. I’ve got a fully charged DVD player and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.” I felt my eyes widen slightly, and a grin spread across my face. “I love that movie.” “I know,” he said. I bit my lip. “You don’t think it’s something super important?” “I don’t. If it had been, there would be scream and Traaiillooonn would be hiding.” “Point taken,” I conceded. “So?” I smiled, biting lip guiltily. “Popcorn?” “Oh, definitely.”

@riptidethepen @mrsmalch

Hey, if anybody wants to be added to the tag list, please let me know. I don’t always get notified of responses on my older posts.

[nemesis-nexus]

Darkest Greetings and Salutations My Family, how is everyone? I am doing fabulously, I have a new lease on life and I feel great, it gets a little dizzying but nothing I can’t handle! The only thing that I am NOT looking forward to is the severe cold snap that they say we’re going to experience this week, the coldest it’s been in over a century they're saying, oh joy! And now I shall do my impression of a popsicle encased in an iceberg! Hopefully it won’t be as bad as they say but for right now:

Full Beaver Moon 2019

HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY! The Full Moon is upon us and it is a treasure whose worth is beyond calculation. As I sit in contemplation of the things that have happened over the years, I feel a weight being lifted off my shoulders! The shining Moon has been the one thing that has the ability to neutralize any stress I might be dealing with and enables me to meditate on any situation for any length of time. When I sit outside in front of my Altar I can feel the energy flowing all around, especially when the wind starts blowing! The strength of each gust always increases the deeper I go, this is how I know that the energy is moving and the feeling while it’s happening is indescribable! Of course this occurs if one does a ritual inside their home and the feeling is similar but it’s not quite the same as being out in it!

As I looked out my front door I saw the Full Moon in the sky, lighting up the darkness so effortlessly and never asking for anything from anyone to provide this light that so many have relied on to make their way to wherever they were going at night without having to worry about walking off a cliff or into a fight with a beast they had no intention of disturbing! The moon itself is a wonder that many take for granted especially now because people are so busy developing their cities and literally flooding them with artificial light that they all but forget about the Moon and the Stars above them and why?

Because they can’t see them and because they can’t they take for granted that both will always be there since they have always been there. What these people fail to realize is that many of the technological advances that we have now come from studying the Moon and Stars! For example we know that the waves in the ocean respond to the pull of the Moon energy, when you know how waves will react at almost any given time and how high they will get you then can build walls along the shoreline to protect the city. You can also determine when a good time to set sail to a remote location will be as the sea is a harsh mistress and she takes no prisoners!

Tonight’s Full Moon was named the Beaver Moon by the Algonquin Tribe of North America, it was so named because this is the time of year when they would begin to lay traps to catch as many beavers as possible so as to fashion their furs into clothing warm enough to survive the very harsh Northern Winter! As someone who lives in the same general area I can say there are times when I wish I had a few beaver furs to withstand the cold!

During this Full Beaver Moon it is clear that we need to reevaluate many things about ourselves as a species; petty selfishness and instant gratification has lead us to the crossroads we are currently at and to the governments we have, the question is do we fight it or do we work with it and decide among OURSELVES if we like what the current and future ruling bodies have to say? Only one of these roads will determine whether we are taken seriously on any level, especially a political and more importantly an environmental one!

The other thing that has lead us to where we are is that we have forgotten ourselves on a Spiritual level and the proof of that is in our willingness to allow the Earth to be drilled into, fractured and blown open for its oil, gas, uranium and copper deposits, even if it means leveling yet another mountainside or National Park! We wonder why mudslides are occuring, it is due to strip-mining for mineral deposits! If there are no rocks or trees in place to keep the soil from moving, all that is needed is just enough rain to create mud that when it is on an angles WILL begin to start sliding downward! Who cares if ANOTHER THREE THOUSAND acres of rainforest is cleared to make room for grazing lands for cattle? Why should we care, after all the only thing that trees and vegetation do is provide us with OXYGEN! So what if we tear up the woods and natural habitats of Wildlife, how dare they want their homes to remain UNINVADED? Then we bitch and moan about how Coyotes, Bobcats, Wolves and OTHER predators are showing up in the streets and eating the Humans pets! They are doing this because they don’t see a difference between a dog and a badger! MEAT IS MEAT and if we want them to continue to hunt in the woods then we need to LEAVE THE WOODS ALONE!

Humans have forgotten what it means to coexist with the very ecosystem which enables it to live, instead choosing to believe that they are superior, then they don't know what to do when an Earthquake, Tornado or Tsunami strikes! They need to remember they are part of the system, not above or below it, we exist in MIDDLE SPACE and it is absolutely imperative that we work with it for the sake of the survival of the whole!

The reason we have the kind of intelligence we do is not a freak accident, but intentional! We were given the intellect to oversee the goings on of our respective parts of the Earth and to live in conjuction with it! To enjoy life and to protect that which is the most import to ALL of our survival - the thing that Ninhursag, Enki and Ningizheda created and what the Ancient Family as one functioning unit oversees - the HEART (EARTH) of our very existence!

As I gaze upon the Moon I can’t help but wonder if all humans will ever wake up to what they are doing, but one thing I do know for certain is that there are many who have woken up and can see what is happening, not just on a physical level but “between the cracks” if you will, they keep to themselves what they see because they know what’s to come and they also know most humans would deny it even if they were told! There is a reason why the Moon Pool and Trail look so hypnotic on the water… It is the silent voice of the Cosmos calling out to us, whispering those memories we all possess of a life beyond what we are currently living!

Father I implore you to help those whose allegiance to the almighty dollar has led them to not only jeopardize the LIFE giving element of Water, but to sue for the right to endanger it while brutalizing any and all humans trying to protect it! Remind them that not only is it a RIGHT, but that it is a NATURAL ELEMENT, of which EVERYONE deserves access to a clean, NONINDUSTRIAL tainted supply! Remind them that they are not more important just because they have more human currency, nor will they curry favor in your eyes for denying others that which you provided us ALL with simply because they feel entitled to do so!

If we keep on the course we are currently on, cutting down the trees, burning through the rainforest and other wooded areas, stripping the mountiainsides, blasting the ground and gutting the mineral deposits, poisoning the air and water, drilling the shale and messing with fault lines, we are going to cause a global disaster unlike we have ever seen before and we will bring it all down on ourselves!

Great Father who keeps track of everything, I implore you to not lose hope in us just yet because there ARE those who are still fighting and who are not willing to back down! We know that you did not give up on the human race the last time but everyone has their breaking point and if you do decide enough is enough, we are ALL in very real trouble and there will be no escaping the consequences of our actions or the wrath of the Ancient Family! I will not back up or back down to any human regardless of their aggression, until the very last breath leaves my body I will continue to strive, to move forward and to help others do the same!

Even though things seem bleak, even though the future is uncertain, we will continue to move ahead as we know that we can get through whatever rough time or arduous situation because we have our Blessed Father on our side and he has no problem telling us to get our shit together and be ready because we never know just what may be around the corner or on the horizon!

While you won’t fight our battles for us, we know that we are able to combat any situation ourselves because we were created in the image of the most glorious Beings in all the Multiverse! We also know that if we are ever in need of guidance that you will be there to help us along! You may not always use human words, sometimes instead choosing nature’s vocabulary, however if we pay close enough attention we know just what it is you are saying!

Endearing and Fierce Father, I know that we will get through these hard times, I know because as stubborn as people are they are also scared of the unknown and I think once those fears are ABLE to be cast aside that people will calm down. It sickens me that those who are rioting in the streets are most likely only doing so because it’s staged! That they would allow themselves to be bought off like that is a human embarrassment!

On this Full Beaver Moon I wish everyone glad ridings and the comfort of Friends and Family to keep you warm through the rest of the Autumn and straight through the Season of Death! I wish you the peace that comes with taking care of your own and doing what you can to help those that need it! I wish you the presence of mind to always stand up for what is right and to always stand against injustice no matter what form it takes or who the aggressor is! Most of all I wish you Spiritual Guidance and Healing to help you with whatever issues you may be facing, do not ever be afraid to ask Father or any member of the Ancient Family for help when the burden becomes too much for one person to carry! No man is an island and the Family will always stand by us so long as we do our part and do not expect anything especially for them to do all the work!

“If you understand or if you don't,

If you believe or if you doubt

There's a Universal Justice

And the Eyes of Truth

Are ALWAYS watching you.

-Enigma"

---

"When The First Frost Falls And Covers The Ground,

When The Air Hangs Cold And No Creatures Are Found,

When The Earth Is Hardened And The Bears Take Slumber,

When The Birds Fly South Flocking In Number,

When The Snows Are Calling, The Heat On The Run,

When The Leaves Have Fallen And The Autumn Is Done,

We Come Together By Respect And Gratitude Led,

To Say Thanks For Father's Generosity And Put The Earth To Bed!

We Batten Down The Hatches And Get Ready For Winter,

The Resources Become Scarce, The Conditions Are Bitter,

But We Have No Anxiety And No Fear,

For Father Has Taught Us How To Prepare!

With The Skills We Knew And The Skills We Were Taught,

We Gather Our Rations From Father's Great Lot!

Through The Death Season We Will Pull Through,

Until Spring Comes Again And The Rebirth Is Due!

We Take Care Of Ourselves And Of Each Other,

To Ensure The Survival Of Our Sister And Brother!

Never Doubting The Support Of Our Family,

Knowing Always We Are One Even Though We Are Many!"

ZI ANA KANPA! ZI KIA KANPA!

MAY THE DEAD RISE AND SMELL THE INCENSE!

Etiamsi MULTA Et Nos UNUM Sumus Nos Sto Validus Ut Nos Sto Una!

Semper Veritas, Semper Fideles, In NINHURSAG'S Nomen Nos Fides! AVE NINHURSAG!

(We Are ONE Even Though We Are MANY And We Stand STRONGEST When We Stand TOGETHER!

Always TRUTHFUL, Always FAITHFUL, In NINHURSAG'S Name We Trust! HAIL NINHURSAG!)

AVÉ IGIGGI!

AVÉ ANUNNA!

AVÉ DRACONIS!

HAIL THE GREAT SERPENT!

HAIL THE ANCIENT FAMILY!

HPS Meg "Nemesis Nexus" Prentiss

[irisplate9-blog]

The Great American Chile Highway

The 643-mile stretch of Interstate 25 between Las Cruces, New Mexico, and Denver skips across time and terrain like few other American trails.

The highway passes through settlements that date back to before Columbus and through brand-new housing tracts with Subarus in the driveway. It cuts through lush valleys and staked plains, metropolises and ghost towns, tree-blanketed mountains and punishing deserts. Through majority-Mexican villages, and suburbs whiter than the Rocky Mountain snowpack.

Travelers have trekked this passage for centuries, always with care. Conquistadors named the area around the southernmost section the Jornada del Muerto — Journey of the Dead Man — because of how unforgiving it was. To this day, drivers try to rush over the Ratón Pass (elevation 7,834 feet) that separates New Mexico and Colorado before sunset, lest they get caught in bad weather. And that weather: It can switch from sleet to fog to dust storm to snow to rain, all in the space of a couple of miles.

It’s not a route for the faint of heart. But I did it. And my fuel was the one thing that unites the disparate communities along the way — chile.

Chile peppers are the Southwest’s most famous gastronomic expression: grown and packed and used for decoration, grilled and dried and frozen, and eaten all year in the region. On I-25, however, “chile” is as varied as the land and people. It’s the pepper, for sure, but also a salsa that can be as thick as gravy or as thin as water, mellow or scorching. “Chile” also appears as a cheeseburger, a snack, a meat rub. A full meal or an appetizer. A bowl or a plate. A soup or chicken-fried steak or burrito drowned (“smothered” in local parlance) in it. Red or green chile or both, a style called “Christmas.” Dessert. Heritage. Life.

Over three days, I saw and tasted how restaurants along the Chile Highway approach their spicy muse. The dishes here rarely venture far from what’s now I-25 because their essence is tied to the chiles grown along the route. No other peppers in the world will do, so home cooks and chefs and packing companies roast freshly harvested green ones every fall to use immediately (and freeze leftovers for the future), or dry the red ones to make powders, flakes, or ristras (vertical bouquets of dried peppers). Either way, a guaranteed, year-round supply is always near.

From this shared ingredient bubbles up a dazzlingly diverse food scene that stretches way beyond Santa Fe and Hatch, the two stops on the Chile Highway that food media focus on at the expense of the rest. Great grub at American Indian-run gas stations. Burger empires. Hyper-regionalism — Cruces-Mex, Den-Mex, Pueblo-Mex, and so much more. (Read Eater’s Definitive Guide to Santa Fe Green Chile.)

I ended up eating “chile” 38 different ways — and I could’ve done more. But caution to the curious: Take the trip in doses, not in one fell swoop like me. Like Icarus, I flew — or rather, ate — too close to the heat. At times, I felt like the trip might actually turn me into a living Human Torch. But like the Phoenix, I rose from the proverbial ashes, spitting nothing but fire.

And the ordeal was worth it.

To outsiders, the food of the Southwest is synonymous with Mexican, mostly because the cuisines share the same foundation: tortillas, combo plates, an emphasis on meats, and especially chiles. But over the past 400 years, residents have fused the traditions of the region’s three main ethnic groups — Mexican, white, and American Indian — to create a gastronomy that belongs to all three yet stands on its own.

These foodways found their most lasting expression in New Mexico, where the state’s Hispanics (known as Hispanos, because many trace their ancestry to conquistadors) settled the northern part of the Land of Enchantment in the 1600s, remaining in relative isolation until the federal government began to pave roads connecting Albuquerque and Santa Fe to the greater U.S. after World War II. Removed from constant replenishment from Mexican migration like, say, Cal-Mex and Tex-Mex, much of New Mexican food remained largely frozen in time.

Or so I thought.

Before my expedition, I vowed not to commit the sin of so many before me: to think of New Mexico as a place where time ran slower than in the rest of the country, and the culture was fossilized, and therefore ripe for exotification.

“It is the Great American Mystery — the National Rip Van Winkle — the United States which is not United States,” wrote Charles Fletcher Lummis in his 1893 book Land of Poco Tiempo. “Why hurry with the hurrying world? The ‘Pretty Soon’ of New Spain is better than the ‘Now! Now’ of the haggard States.”

Even when Southwestern cuisine had its national heyday in the 1980s — when chefs like John Rivera Sedlar and Mark Miller garnered attention for fusing local ingredients with French techniques — reporters and critics depicted the movement’s acolytes as necromancers resurrecting dormant, overlooked riches long forgotten by the locals.

That idea, however, robs the Chile Highway’s denizens of their agency. The people here easily change with the times while keeping true to their chile heritage — it all depends on who’s doing the eating and where. That pride and flexibility characterized my first day.

My journey began in Belen, a city of about 7,000 near the geographical center of New Mexico. At Sandra’s New Mexican Restaurant, I ordered a bowl of posole, which called back to the old ways, spelled with an S (like Spanish friars wrote it out in the 16th century) instead of a Z (the way you find it written out today across Mexico). There was no oregano or cabbage or even lime as toppings — just pork chunks and hominy. And the posole came white, with red chile on the side.

I wasn’t familiar with this presentation, but it didn’t matter: Sandra’s posole was porkier than ramen — the chewy meat, the unctuous broth, the fat kernels. Splashes of red chile opened up its flavors further.

But before I could romanticize New Mexican cuisine as an atavistic treasure, I next gorged on Milly’s Burrito Plate at Alejandro’s Café, five minutes down the street: a great beef burrito buried under french fries and smothered in a fine green chile. It was heavy for breakfast, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that hefty, hearty breakfasts are common throughout New Mexico. Mornings are chilly all year, and there’s nothing like spice and starch to insulate your insides.

My next stop was about 45 minutes south, at San Antonio Crane, named after the small city of San Antonio, as well as the sandhill cranes that migrate to the nearby Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge every winter. The restaurant, a converted house, was slammed, which explained the slow service for my open-faced smothered hamburger, topped with more fries.

There were no arguments about authenticity or heritage at Sandra’s, Alejandro’s, or San Antonio Crane; there was chile. And that was all I needed.

Two hours later, I rolled into Las Cruces and La Nueva Casita Café, which has served New Mexican classics since 1957. Families fresh from church or dressed in Dallas Cowboys gear sat around the ample dining room slurping menudo with toast on the side, an unusual pairing — and another nod to mutability.

I went with the huevos compuestos, a specialty of southern New Mexico. Two small tostada shells filled with carne adovada, topped with eggs any style, and drizzled with chile, huevos compuestos are like a crunchy Hispano eggs Benedict. This version was saucy and savory and superb, with chile two ways: as a sauce and as carne adovada, pork that’s baked with red chile powder and other spices and serves as the de facto meat of the Chile Highway. Think al pastor, but better.

At La Nueva Casita, the adovada was bright with the freshness of chile sourced from Hatch, the self-proclaimed Chile Capital of the World and the one thing most foodies know about New Mexico. Those peppers made a cameo in my dessert at Caliche’s Frozen Custard, where I chose the New Mexican sundae: two scoops of vanilla custard, layered with candied Hatch peppers and salted pecans. The crunch and sweet and spice made it one of the best frozen desserts I’ve tasted in years.

I visit Hatch every summer, so this time I bypassed it in favor of a challenge. For years, I’ve passed a billboard on I-25 for Arrey Cafe that screams, “World’s Finest Green Chile Cheeseburger.” Now, I had the chance to put that claim to the test.

The green chile cheeseburger is the Chile Highway manifest. It didn’t even exist until after World War II. But New Mexicans quickly fell in love gracias to Blake’s Lotaburger, a local obsession on par with California’s In-N-Out and Texas’s Whataburger; there are 28 Lotaburger locations in Albuquerque alone.

New Mexicans quickly embraced this relative newcomer; New Mexico’s Tourism Department promotes a Green Chile Cheeseburger Trail to attract tourists. It’s just a cheeseburger with green chile on it. But therein is the beauty: Green chile is the condiment you never knew a burger needed. Diced or whole sauteed peppers are spread across the patty — past and present New Mexico, snug between two buns.

San Antonio’s Owl Bar & Cafe claims to have created the burger to feed the scientists who worked on the Manhattan Project. It was closed on the Sunday I visited, so I settled for Arrey.

Its roadside ad is almost correct. Arrey makes a great burger — the patty is loosely packed, the Hatch chile is fleshy and piquant, and their secret sauce is a relishy green salsa that ramps up the heat. The double-fire of green chile and salsa lingered longer than I thought it would, but I didn’t think much of it then.

It was a harbinger of the hell settling into every cell of my being.

When I left Arrey, I realized I faced a problem: All the restaurants I wanted to visit were either not open on Sundays or closed by 3. So I sped off to Albuquerque, grabbing any good bites I could find along the way.

I found plenty. A green chile Philly cheesesteak at Johnny B’s in the town of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, that I dunked into their sturdy cup of red to create a New Mexican French dip. A Frito pie, a glorious mess of crunch, cheese, and Socorro-style red chile sharper and smokier than Hatch, at the 24-hour El Camino Restaurant, whose wooden booths, kachina figures, and dive-y bar make it look unchanged since its 1963 debut. A juicy adovada burrito in the Los Lunas outpost of the statewide chain Burritos Alinstante, New Mexico’s second-best food empire after Blake’s.

I stopped for gas at the Isleta Travel Center, just outside the Pueblo of Isleta, “Pueblo” in New Mexico referring to what the rest of the United States would call a reservation. New Mexico has some of the best gas station food in the country, because Native American tribes run many of them and frequently stock local goods. The Isleta Travel Center sold green chile piñon nuts last time I visited; this time, I grabbed a bag of Bar X Brand green chile carne seca, dried beef that feels like dehydrated tissue paper but reconstitutes lusciously in your mouth. And, unlike other jerkies claiming to light up your mouth, Bar X brought the fire.

I rolled into Albuquerque at nighttime, but managed to score an adovada plate at Duran Central Pharmacy, and some adovada-stuffed sopaipillas at Sadie’s, two local standbys. After so much savoriness, I needed something sweet, so I swung by Frontier Restaurant, a legendary late-night diner across from the University of New Mexico. Under the gaze of multiple portraits of John Wayne, I picked at one of their massive cinnamon rolls. But I couldn’t shake the chile: Frontier has two large vats of complimentary red and green. I dunked chunks of the rolls in each. Chile as frosting? Divine.

Undergrads of all ethnicities filled up at the chile station. I felt a tingle in my chest as I beheld a post-racial America brought together by the power of red and green.

Or was it all the chile pulsing through my veins?

Every time I visit ABQ, I stop by Barelas Coffee House. This is where friends took me the first time I visited the Duke City, about 12 years ago, and taught me that “red” and “green” in the Southwest mainly concerns chile. A savory bowl of either at Barelas, with their billowy flour tortillas to sop up every last stain, would make you an instant convert to the city, the state, the chile, the everything.

I started Day Two with a bowl of green, then picked up some biscochitos (anise-flavored shortbread cookies) from the venerable Garcia’s Kitchen chain. I needed some snacks to tackle my longest stretch of the drive: 378 miles, ending in Colorado Springs.

It would nearly become my end, period.

I pumped gas at the Warrior Fuel II station in Bernalillo, run by the Santa Ana Pueblo. Tribes across New Mexico have diversified their business holdings this decade and opened restaurants to promote indigenous eats and offer economic opportunities for tribal members. Such a strategy both preserves the past and ensures the future.

Business was popping at Warrior Fuel II, as construction workers and commuters grabbed to-go breakfast burritos from a display case, or served themselves green chile stew from pots. I ladled myself the latter. Pork, potatoes, and strands of pepper, it was like a fiery fall harvest in a Styrofoam cup, no salsa necessary. Even better was the Pueblo Restaurant inside San Felipe Travel Center in Algodones, run by the San Felipe Pueblo. The bowl of red was tasty, but more memorable was the Pueblo taco — fry bread, ground beef, and green chile, fused together with cheese. Even though this is a choice fraught with colonial implications, other tables enjoyed the same, so I set aside my social justice radar and joined in.

Santa Fe gets so much attention that I decided to continue along I-25, making an exception for Cafe Fina, a cute coffee shop on the outskirts of the City Different, whose huevos divorciados, a Mexico City desayuno of eggs and ham on a lightly fried corn tortilla, were Hispano-ized with Christmas chile instead of red and green salsa. Afterward, I wound my way around the snow-dusted Sangre de Cristo Mountains to the hardscrabble hub of Las Vegas, New Mexico. I liked my juicy, smothered adovada burrito at Maryann’s Famous Burrito Kitchen, but far better was a spot I didn’t expect much from: Charlie’s Spic & Span.

It looks like a tourist trap, with neon signs and goofy paintings, like the cover of Whipped Cream and Other Delights. But behind all the kitsch is a great diner. The adovada skillet, sizzling with runny eggs and potatoes, was breakfast at its best. The flour tortillas were so fluffy that I grabbed a still-steaming bag of them from a table near the cashier on the way out.

But after Charlie’s, I ran into bad luck: The restaurants at every town between Las Vegas and Raton were closed. The hangry was real when I finally reached Enchanted Grounds Espresso Bar in Raton, a cowboy town on the old Santa Fe Trail. It was 2 p.m., and the cafe had run out of food for the day.

“Where else should I eat?” I asked the nice woman behind the counter.

“Nowhere today, really,” she responded. “Everything good is closed on Monday. And everywhere closes around this time. Pretty silly, if you ask me.”

I bought some hot chocolate to wash down buttery green chile piñon brittle and my disappointment. Off to Trinidad, Colorado, a funky mining town that, according to free magazines in the local convenience stores, had been a hub of Mafia activity during prohibition. There were more Italian restaurants than Mexican ones in downtown Trinidad, and pasta was the star at Tony’s Diner.

I also found something that’s rare on Southwestern menus: a bowl of chile caribe. It’s red chile made with dried peppers instead of fresh, which creates a spicier, deeper flavor. It was one of the best bowls I’d ever tasted, and a great introduction to Colorado-Mex.

Hispanos settled southern Colorado in the 1850s, and many manitos (the nickname their descendants go by) feel greater kinship with northern New Mexico than they do with Colorado. The result is food as removed from New Mexican food as New Mexican is from Mexican, with added influence from European immigrants (especially Italians), whose presence in the area goes back more than a century. It’s one of the few branches of the Mexican food tree where such a mix causes little grumbling — because chile.

Take Corine’s Mexican Restaurant in Walsenberg, a city of 3,000. Open since 1957, the diner’s best entree is Pollo de Colorado, fried chicken strips topped with a thick red chile. The result tasted like Mexican schnitzel, and simultaneously lifted my tired body while weighing down my gut.

The chile was even better at Three Sisters, a honky-tonk bar in Colorado City. Prominent on the menu was a bowl of Pueblo-style green made from the Mirasol pepper, which manitos grew for over a century and is currently being prepped for its national day in the sun by Italian-American farmers in the San Luis Valley.

Sorry, New Mexico: Pueblo peppers and their incarnations beat all of your chiles. Just a cup of it at Three Sisters showed why — it was more intense than Hatch, more pungent than Socorro, and as rare as Chimayó. (Colorado growers only harvested about 600 acres of peppers last year, compared to the 8,000 or so that New Mexico registered.)

Mirasol love was all over Pueblo, a city with its own distinct cuisine. There, the most beloved treat is the Slopper, a hamburger patty in a sea of green chile: bar food, bar none. Downtown’s Gray’s Coors Tavern claims to have invented it, and their version is particularly wonderful.

Better were the chicken tacos on white at Polito’s Beer Barrel, a neighborhood dive just a minute away from one of the last operating steel mills in what was once called the Pittsburgh of the West. The “white” refers to flour tortillas, and Pueblo makes them thick and salty, then fries them for tacos so that the end result tastes like pita chips. As a side, Polito’s offered fideo, Mexican-style vermicelli noodles which I’ve eaten my entire life in soup, but were here closer to a cumin-heavy spaghetti. Fried flour tortillas also made the base for a gigantic tostada at Estela’s Mill Stop Cafe, with a side of rice so soaked in tomato sauce that it was basically a broth.

I left Pueblo with a Reskie Burger — patty, pimento cheese, and extra Pueblo chiles — from Bingo Burger, and a desire to find ever more Pueblo-Mex. But I could only take one bite before my body finally shut down.

Bluntly put: You try eating chile 27 ways over just two days. It hurts.

The 45-minute drive to Colorado Springs was one of the most uncomfortable of my life. My digestive tract was fine; it was the rest of my body that burned. My eyes felt like they could shoot an optic blast like Cyclops from the X-Men. My skin was warm; my sides began to spasm.

I didn’t sleep that night, constantly waking to the thought of green and red Christmas-ing me with a slow, agonizing, delicious death.

The dish that started my next day, at King’s Chef Diner, looked simple enough: a small bowl of green chile stew, made from Mirasol peppers. No meat, no beans, no nada — just the chile as a soup, with flour tortillas on the side. I had overslept from the previous night’s pain. But with one sip, my troubles disappeared.

What a bowl! Thick, like a comforting Mexican hot chocolate. I was now so hungry that I even scarfed down a huge breakfast burrito at the nearby Rudy’s Little Hideaway, the Pueblo green chile inside zippy and caliente. Rejuvenated, I zoomed to Denver for lunch at La Fiesta. Along a highway defined by restaurants with haphazard hours, La Fiesta probably has the weirdest: open only for lunch, Monday through Thursday; until 9 p.m. on Fridays; and closed on weekends. La Fiesta is special to me, though, because this is where I first tasted Den-Mex over a decade ago.

The Mile High City’s contributions to Southwestern food aren’t just a galaxy apart from Mexican; they’re an entire universe. Chiles rellenos are enveloped in wonton wrappers, then fried. The green chile has an orange tint, not as a shoutout to the Denver Broncos, but because of all the tomato. It’s more like a stew than a sauce, yet it’s consistently hotter than chile in New Mexico (albeit less hot than Pueblo-style).

Huevos divorciados from Cafe Fina in Santa Fe

The region’s favorite supper is the Mexican hamburger — a bean-and-chicharron burrito, smothered, with a hamburger patty in the middle and cheese melted on top. Even Mexican restaurants, run by Mexican immigrants, carry it to ensure they make rent.

I got my regular order at La Fiesta: the namesake combo platter of a chile relleno, bean burrito, and cheese enchilada, everything greasy and hefty and smothered in green. I visited Las Delicias, a Denver chain that splits the difference between Den-Mex standards and meals like carne asada and carnitas. Then I drove to Colorado Springs, intending to slowly make my way back up I-25 to eat at the mountain towns along the way.

This was a mistake. Most of their Den-Mex restaurants close after lunch, which meant I skipped over multiple cities as I returned to Denver. So sorry, Monument. Lo siento, Castle Rock. Your fault, Centennial.

I did find something interesting at Charito’s House in Larkspur, home of Colorado’s Renaissance Festival. It was a straightforward Mexican restaurant — the owners are from the state of Puebla, and their tacos were great. But their menu impressed me. Under the Lo Traditional section were crispy rellenos, Mexican hamburgers, and green chile.

Traditional to I-25 and nowhere else.

Mexicans have a reputation as culinary chauvinists (much-deserved, I say: Please @ me) who want their cuisine to stay in eternal stasis and who are triggered by the very thought of peas in guacamole. But the Chile Highway presents a third way that even the Mexican immigrants who ran Charito’s could understand: Den-Mex wasn’t their Mexican food, but rather, a long-lost cousin happy to reconnect, wanting only respect from its elders.

Respect we should all give.

My chile belly was grumbling again by the time I hit Urban Sombrero in Englewood, a sports bar surrounded by economy hotels where the Den-Mex is not dialed down. They chopped up and fried chiles rellenos, the easier to dunk them in a better-than-expected green chile. I calmed down with a potent green chile martini at national chain Chuy’s Tex-Mex in Westminster.

This gave me the second wind I needed to complete my Den-Mex holy quartet, the places I always make pilgrimages to whenever I’m in town. A bean and cheese burrito with green chile at Santiago’s, a chain with nearly 30 locations around Denver, was far better than its longtime local rival Chipotle (whose headquarters relocated to Orange County, California, in 2018). A fabulous pork chop prepared adovada-style was smothered in meaty green chile at Señor Burritos. Two moist pork tamales were bathed in green at El Noa Noa, the restaurant where I once dined with anti-immigrant former congressman Tom Tancredo before debating him at a Chicano theater across the street.

I concluded my odyssey with the best Den-Mex of them all: a Mexican hamburger at the Original Chubby’s. I crowned it America’s best Mexican dinner in my 2012 book Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America, because I thought Chubby’s represented Mexican food at its finest — surprising, filling, bueno, and proudly regional.

Chubby’s was a small stand when I covered them, and I fondly remember how you could only order to-go and they covered it with two paper plates stapled together so the chile wouldn’t spill. Since then, the owners have knocked down the original building and erected a multihued palace complete with seats and big-screen TVs. The neighborhood around Chubby’s is quickly gentrifying, but they’re still open from 6 in the morning until 2 a.m., 3 a.m. on weekends, with unending lines of blue-collar patrons.

The Mexican hamburger remains awesome — sticky and mushy and smothered in so much chile that the carton is overflowing. As it should.

Like many of its fellow Chile Highway denizens, the Mexican hamburger will probably never be popular anywhere else, and Chubby’s has never received any national accolades. It’s too working-class, too homely, too fattening, and just not Mexican enough.

Too I-25.

America’s loss. The Southwest’s chile game is strong, and I’m more of a convert than ever. And that’s why, even after eating 37 previous chiles in 60 hours, with my gut bloated and my esophagus irritated, I gobbled up my entire Chubby’s Mexican hamburger — and my appetite has never been happier.

Gustavo Arellano is a features writer at the Los Angeles Times and author of Taco USA: How Mexican Food Conquered America. Fact checked by Pearly Huang Copy edited by Rachel P. Kreiter

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Source: https://www.eater.com/2019/1/23/18182665/best-new-mexico-chile-restaurants-interstate-25

[redvalravn]

Victoria: A Novel of 4th Generation War - Chapter Four: It’s just not our country anymore

Hello there, children! Today we’re going to talk about the federal government.

You see, the federal government is coming to steal your money, property, and it wants to be able to tell you what to do, and that’s a bad, bad thing. It also wants to make sure that those who look different from you can also get jobs, and money, and property, so it can take it away from them!

Now remember kids, if anybody says they’re from the so-called Environmental Protection Agency, the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, or that they support something called the North American Free Trade Agreement, you run away as fast as you can, before they take your jobs!

A chapter summary: Affirmative action and federal regulations and institutions are evil. The end.

A chapter summary: Mary Sue attempts to get a job and everyone else tells him why the government won’t let him have one. The end.

A chapter summary: Mary Sue: You mean I can’t just start a business without a business plan or background check or go to my buddies and have them hand me a job on a silver platter? What the hell?! I thought this was America!

I’m going to be up front here. I’m not sure I can fully refute some of the claims in this chapter with a simple google search. I’m not an economist, or a lawyer, and I’m sure I don’t fully understand the intricacies of what goes into making the regulations put forth by the EPA, the EEOC, or NAFTA, or why they may not be the best ideas. But then, I’m sure that William Lind doesn’t fully understand, either.

First, Mary Sue attempts to try farming.

“What you gonna faam?” John asked, the flat, nasal “a” instead of “r” suggesting he hadn’t been outside Maine much.

“Waal,” I said, talking Down East myself, “I thought I might try soybeans.”

“Don’t see them much up heah.”

“Didn’t see wine up heah either ‘til Wyly put in his vineyard. I gather his wine is selling pretty well now,” I said.

“I’ll tell you why you don’t see soybeans up here or on many other family farms,” said Uncle Fred. “It’s oil from soybeans that makes money, and the federal government makes it just about impossible to transport soybean oil or any other vegetable oil unless you’re a big corporation. Under federal regulations, vegetable oil is treated the same as oil from petroleum when it comes to shipment. You’ve got to get a hugely expensive Certificate of Financial Responsibility to cover any possible oil spill. You’ll never get the capital to get started.”

I believe this is referencing the Oil Pollution Act of 1990, which was written in response to the frequency of oil spills from barges and vessels, including the Exxon Valdez oil spill that happened in 1989. It basically says that the company which owns the vessel that spilled the oil is liable for its cleanup, because the government had a limited amount of money to deal with oil spills. Therefore, before a company can ship oil, it must provide proof that it can pay for a potential spill, which sounds reasonable. Though I do see why it would stop small farmers from starting a brand new soybean farm.  

“But vegetable oil and petroleum are completely different. That doesn’t make any sense,” I replied.

“I didn’t say it made sense, I just said that’s what Washington demands. It makes no sense at all. Spilled vegetable oil is no big problem. It’s biodegradable. But the federal government mandates a spill be cleaned up the same way for both, even though that’s unnecessary. You need to scoop up any petroleum product if it spills, especially into water. But if you just let vegetable oil disperse, bacteria will eat it up. Anyway, the government doesn’t care that we lose hundreds of millions of dollars each year in vegetable oil that isn’t produced or exported. The bottom line is, as a small farmer, you can’t do it.”

Vegetable oil is biodegradable, and spilling a little on the ground or water isn’t going to do anything. If you spill a shipping container of the stuff though, it will impact the environment. Aquatic birds and animals get oiled, oxygen supply in the water becomes depleted, and gummy coatings exist for years. That would affect not only the wildlife, but any other industry that involves the ocean. Also, say it spills somewhere near the coast, that could come in contact with a human population. Some people are allergic to soybeans. Or, what if it spills in a busy port? Would this guy leave it to be cleaned up, disrupting the schedules of other shipping vessels, until a more financially capable entity takes care of it?

“Okay, I’ll grow potatoes. We certainly grow enough of those here in Maine,” I said.

“Only land up at the Old Place that’ll grow potatoes is the bottom land. Government won’t let you do that neither,” said cousin John.

This was starting to get old. “What do you mean the government won’t let me grow down there? That’s the best land on the place. The rest is just rock,” I replied.

“It’s the EPA, the so-called ‘Environmental Protection Agency,” answered Uncle Fred. “They declared all that ground a ‘protected wetland‘ a couple years ago. It’s yours, or ours, but it might as well be on the moon for all the good it does us. We can’t touch it.”

Protected wetland? Hell, I didn’t plan to grow potatoes in the ponds. “That’s our property. We’ve owned it since Andrew Jackson was President. And most of it’s dry. How can they tell us we can’t farm it?”

The definition of wetland is “areas where water covers the soil all or part of the time.”

From a quick look at the EPA’s website, it seems that just because an area is designated as a wetland, you’re not automatically banned from altering it.

My best guess for Mary Sue’s problem = the environmental impact of farming is so large it trumps ownership of the property. Perhaps probably absolutely there are details of property law and environmental law that I’m unaware of, and maybe that would make the EPA telling Mary Sue he can’t farm the wetlands unjustified.

That got the whole table smiling the thin smile that passes for a good laugh among New Englanders. “Property rights don’t mean squat any more,” said Uncle Earl, who was the town lawyer. “The government just tells you what to do or what not to do and dares you to fight them. They have thousands of lawyers, all paid by your tax money, and they can tie you up in court for years. You got a few hundred thousand extra dollars you’d like to spend on legal fees?”

However, the author doesn’t present any laws or environmental impact studies as evidence. He only insists that the government would fight it, smear, and bankrupt anyone who complains.

That sends the message of: “I want to be able to farm wherever I want, it’s my property, consequences be damned.”

An important thing to remember when considering environmental impact is that messing with natural habitats and wildlife is messing with natural cycles that have potentially global ramifications. Mary Sue is probably thinking “It’s just a wetland.” So do all the other farmers that the EPA blocks from farming. Everyone was allowed to farm and create factories that belch smoke and dump trash and toxic waste wherever they wanted before the creation of the EPA in 1970. This is a photo of the George Washington Bridge in 1973:

Los Angeles in 1973:

The Potomac River in Washington D.C. was filled with raw sewage.

Cleveland’s Cuyahoga River caught fire from pollutants in the water 14 times before the Clean Water Act was passed in 1972. 

Waste from coal plants would seep into soil and pollute wells.

Between 1947 and 1952, the Hooker Electrochemical Company used the land known as the “Love Canal” to dump 22,000 tons of toxic waste. In 1953, it was sold to a school board for $1. By the ‘70s, people began to realize something was really wrong with the land. Barrels full of toxic waste began to surface, children and animals were getting burned and there was a significant increase in birth defects. The EPA then had to evacuate and relocate 950 families. Between 1983 and 2004, the EPA spent $400 million cleaning up the site.

Since the “Love Canal,” the EPA has cleaned up over 450 sites.

The EPA also deals with disaster clean ups like Hurricane Katrina and Sandy.

Just google “The environment before the EPA” and you’ll find thousands of examples of why it’s necessary.

“What it comes down to is that we’re not a free country any more.”

“What King George III was doing to us in 1776 wasn’t a hill of beans compared to this,” I said. “We didn’t take it then. Why are we taking it now?”

At that point, the women turned the conversation to how Ma’s stuffing was the best they’d ever had. It always was.

#feminism

Anyway, since the ebil EPA won’t let Mary Sue start a farm, he later goes to his contacts and asks for jobs. He has other options.

Jim was glad to see me, but he couldn’t give me any good news. “Sorry,” he said, “but like every American company, we’re having to cut jobs, not add ʻem. The problem is this “free trade” business. What it means is that American workers are up against those in places like Mexico, Haiti, and now all of central and south America, since they expanded NAFTA into AFTA and took in the whole hemisphere. Labor costs now get averaged across national boundaries; it pulls their wages up and pushes wages here down. Of course, we don’t actually cut wages, but with inflation rising, we don’t need to. We just keep wages steady and cut the number of jobs. Maybe that will keep this plant in business. Then again, maybe it won’t. In any event, it means if I had a job to offer you, and I don’t, you’d quickly find yourself getting poorer, not richer, if you took it.”

It’s always funny to see elementary grammatical errors in a published novel.

I think the author made an intentional “five minutes into the future” exaggeration. In 2017 (when this scene takes place), he predicts that the North American Free Trade Agreement will be expanded into Ccentral and Ssouth America, forming the American Free Trade Agreement.

Again, I’m not an economist, but this is what the internet tells me:

-It unifies the North American market by eliminating taxes or other barriers on trading goods between the United States, Canada, and Mexico. It basically makes it easier for goods to get across borders by treating products from a country that’s part of the agreement more favorably than products from any other countries.

-Most economic analyses agree that it has a net benefit to the three countries involved.

- There are some unfortunate impacts that include making it easier for companies to export jobs (mostly manufacturing) to Mexico.  This amounts to about 800,000 jobs between 1997 and 2013.

-Because goods are cheaper to produce in Mexico, that means lower prices for U.S. consumers.

-Mexican workers are often mistreated in maquiladoras that produce cheap goods.

-NAFTA may drive illegal immigration, due to the disappearance of well-paying jobs and lower wages in Mexico.

-There are also about 6 million of U.S.-based jobs that depend on NAFTA.

-There are analyses that the U.S. has lost more jobs to automation than to Mexico.

-It’s unlikely that tearing up NAFTA would bring back jobs. Companies would move production to the next cheapest country.

-Any assessment on the impact of NAFTA is difficult because of the multilayered supply networks established and many variables such as inflation.

Here’s a recent analysis from the Congressional Research Service that I’m too lazy to read in full and too uneducated in economics to understand, but it’s more research than the author did.

In short, it’s a complicated, multi-faceted issue, and that’s all I’ll say about it. 

“But you just put a lot of money into this plant,” I replied. “Hell, it used to stink up the whole town. Now you can’t smell it. Maybe that EPA does some good after all.”

Oh hey, it’s almost like the EPA has a purpose!

“You think so?” asked Jim. “You’re right that we had to clean up our processes here, and we did put some money into the place. But the main thing we did was move most of the work on the fresh hides to Mexico. That cut 23 jobs here, jobs now held by Mexicans. I guess you can’t make Mexico stink any worse than it already does.”

#racism

“And the EPA still isn’t done with us,” he added. “They’ve got another investigation going now, which will cost us tens of thousands in legal fees even if that’s all it does. Seems they think we’re still doing something to the river.”

“River looks clean to me,” I replied.

All poisons and toxic wastes and all amounts of poisons and toxic wastes are clearly visible. If the water looks clean, then it is!

“It is clean. It’s cleaner than it’s ever been, at least since industry, and jobs, first came to this valley. But that doesn’t count to bureaucrats in Washington. They’ve told us we might have to build a full water treatment plant, which would cost us millions. If they rule that way, it’ll be the end of the company here. It would take us 50 years to pay off that debt. There’s not that much money in leather any more, not up against the foreign competition.”

I’ll refer to my previous statements on why the EPA is necessary.

Mary Sue has one last ace up his sleeve, his cousin, who works at a car restoration facility.

“Sure,” Ed said, when I stopped in on him, “business is good and I need a couple folk. I know you’d do good work. But I can’t offer you or anyone else around here a job. EEOC won’t let me.”

“EEOC?” I’d heard the initials, but didn’t know much more about it.

“The Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. They come around and tell you how many blacks, Hispanics, women, whatever you have to hire. Of course, all my employees are white, because everybody up here is white. I guess Maine winters are kinda hard on black folk and those from south of the border. Anyway, that doesn’t count with them. They’ve issued an order that the next six people I hire must be blacks. The effect, of course, is that I can’t hire anyone, not even you.”

Maine’s population as of 2010 was 95.2% Caucasian, 1.2% African-American, 1.0% Asian, 0.6% Native American, 0.3% other, 1.6% two or more races.

Affirmative Action is something else outside of my area of expertise. I’m going to make a guess here, though, that the EEOC wouldn’t make such an unreasonable demand that a facility drastically over-represent the amount of black people on its payroll compared to the amount that exist in the area.

Although, now that I’ve searched the internet and become an instant expert, this claim that the EEOC can demand companies meet a quota of minority employees seems misleading.

In 1978, the Supreme Court ruled that public universities and government institutions could not set quotas based on race for admissions or employment, but they could have "goals" to be reached within a certain time. In 1979, it ruled that private employers could set quotas, if they chose to do so. If an employer finds out that diversity among their employees is low, they can create an affirmative action plan, which details guidelines for how an organization will recruit minorities. Almost every employer is required to be an equal opportunity employer, which means that they can’t be allowed to discriminate in their hiring practices, firing practices, or policies. Federal contractors have a 10% quota, but private employers are merely advised to follow this as a guideline. Even if a company fails to diversify their workforce, they won’t be penalized if they provide proof that they made a good faith effort to do so.    

In addition, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibits race discrimination against all persons, including Caucasians.

From the EEOC archives:

Quota: Fixed hiring and promotion rates based on race, sex, or other protected class standards which must be met at all costs. In extreme cases, the courts have assigned quotas to some employers who have continued to practice illegal discrimination. The agency or any other employer cannot use quotas to meet their affirmative action goals unless a court orders it. Quotas are considered discriminatory against males and other non-minority people.

Unless Cousin Ed restores cars for the federal government or has been ordered by a court to hire black people (which means that there's proof of discriminatory hiring practices), the EEOC can't force him to hire anyone he doesn't want to hire. Holy crap. It’s almost like…the book lied to me…

This was the nuttiest thing I’d heard yet. “You must be kidding,” I replied. “How can they make you hire blacks where there aren’t any?”

“I don’t know,” Ed said. “But I can’t fight the EEOC in court. I’m a small business and can’t afford it. I just can’t expand, is what it comes down to. And you know how badly we need jobs up here.”

I did, from growing personal experience. “But someone must care that this is completely absurd,” I said. “There has got to be a limit somewhere to what Washington can do to us.”

“If there is, I don’t know where,” Ed replied, obviously a beaten man.

“You and I, and most folk up here, are members of the middle class. That means the government doesn’t do anything for us, it only does things to us. If you know a way to change that, I’d like to hear it. But these days, unless you’re some kind of “minority,” you don’t have any rights.” 

Public libraries, public schools, fire departments, unemployment assistance, food stamps, welfare, public broadcasting, medicaid, and social security don’t count, I guess. 

Ed has a funny idea of what “rights” are. That makes sense if it’s implied that he’s been sued for racial discrimination previously. It seems that the book is trying to say that Mary Sue and Ed are more oppressed than minorities, because they’re white males being forced by the government to get over their own prejudices. Poor Ed will have to hire a representative quota of black people. If his company is large enough that 6 people is equivalent to 1.2% or less, that would make the size of the company 500 people or greater. “Small business”, indeed.  

...and poor Mary Sue will have to find work anywhere else. 

“Frankly, it’s just not our country any more.”

That summed it up pretty well. Somewhere along the line, in the last 30 years or so, somebody had taken our country away from us. We remembered what our country was like. It was a safe, decent, prosperous place where normal, middle class people could live good lives.

And it was gone.

It was a safe, decent, prosperous place where normal, middle class white people could live good privileged lives. 

I was beginning to think that what I wanted to do was help take our country back. How I could do that, and how I could earn a living, were both puzzles. But where there’s a will, God often opens a way.

Next chapter: Mary Sue goes on monster.com or signs up for Universal Technical Institute, if using the internet isn’t too “new” for him.

Not being able to find a job is frustrating and demotivating. I know, I’ve been there. Mary Sue only considers two options before he gives up: starting a farm on his own or asking people he knows. Not saying that these aren’t good strategies, but it’s not unusual to take a few months to find employment. Mary Sue is a young man, having just graduated from college with no experience. Of course he’s going to have trouble finding a job immediately. Millennials know this. For someone of William Lind’s age (69), it’s not normal. It was easier to get a job in his time. His worldview is dependent on men being able to take care of themselves and being the breadwinners for their families. Not being able to find work is more than demotivating. It’s humiliating. He’s angry that this situation is allowed to happen. Instead of blaming the recession, the “previous experience” requirement, and his seeming unwillingness to use the internet or write a resume, he blames environmental regulations, globalization, and minorities getting in his way. 

Finding a job in rural areas can be difficult. I believe this, but I think he’s incorrectly assigning blame. Increased protection of natural resources, international cooperation, and leveling the playing field for women and minorities should all be seen as good things that help society more than hurt it. People like William Lind hijack a real concern -- lack of jobs -- to further their own ideology. He doesn’t like it that minorities don’t know their place. He wants to be able to mass produce without environmental concern, and give jobs to good American workers and proudly shut the door on any foreign trade, because this is America, and we take care of ourselves. Real, manly Americans decimate the environment and conquer, because they can. If we don’t stop time, the government will stop you from being real manly Americans, and you may be ruled over by Mexicans, women, and hippies.  

The horror.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   

I once read that not having privilege was riding a bike on a busy road. The road was meant to be used by cars. For a long time, there were only cars on the road, and they could go as fast as the speed limit allowed. Until one day, someone decided that bikes ought to be allowed on the road, because people who can’t afford cars still ought to be able to get to where they’re going. Now, instead of being able to speed down the road, drivers had to make way for bikes. Not all the drivers were happy. Now they had to slow down and drive around all the bikers they were, regardless, passing in their fast cars. So they complained that the bikes were making the roads dangerous. The bikes argued that they had no other way to use the road, even though it was more dangerous to ride a bike on a road built for cars. To compromise, bike lanes were built, so the bikes had their space. Bikers still had to deal with drivers that weren’t paying attention when the bikes had to leave the bike lane to turn, the possibility of being doored when a parked car opened their door without checking for a passing bike, or vehicles that used the bike lane as a free parking space and blocked it. When there were accidents there were way more fatalities for bikers than drivers, due to the fact that bikers were unprotected while drivers had 2-ton death machines that protected them. Still some drivers weren’t happy about having to make room for bikes on the road, at best, wondering why they didn’t just get a car and make it easier for everyone, and at worst, tried to change the rules to once more get them off the road.  

That’s what this book is. It’s a driver whining that they used to be able to speed and now there are too many bikes on the road.  

@moodybidoof @videoninja42

[myflowerfriends]

Final Blog Posts

Blog 7: Unsaturating the World

Figure 1: Saturation in boardwalk photo, https://www.adorama.com/alc/0008627/article/100-in-100-Dont-be-a-super-soaker-saturater

In photography, to saturate an image is to edit it so that all of the visible colors are intensified against the white; the right side of Figure 1 is saturated to bring out the vibrancy in the greens and blues. The lowest form of saturation is greyscale, where the photo loses all colors and becomes simple variations of white and blacks. I kept thinking of this term, saturation, while doing the readings for this week. It feels like humanity has taken hold of the saturation scale in Adobe Photoshop and is steadily turning the world greyer. This week’s post looks at the causes of biodiversity loss and extinction, particularly in chapters 9 and 10 of the textbook.

One of the first times I really felt a deep empathy for the environment was when I must have been about eight years old, and I was flipping through a magazine in my dad’s dental office. On the cover there was a polar bear, and on the inside there must have been an editor’s note that stressed how sad and absurd it was that the editor’s children might live to see a world where polar bears go extinct. It completely blew my mind. Polar bears going extinct?! But they’re such iconic animals!

Figure 2: Polar Bear on Time Magazine, 2006. Not sure if this was the exact magazine I was flipping through, but it carries the same energy. http://content.time.com/time/covers/0,16641,20060403,00.html

What I didn’t realize then was that every twenty-four hours, between 150-200 species of plant, insect, bird, and mammal go extinct.[1] And according to Miller and Simmons’ text, “20-50% [is the] percentage of the earth’s known species that could disappear this century primarily because of human activities.”[2] The guilt on the shoulders of humankind should be there, but it is not. There is hardly any action being taken to preserve these species, or at least ease their suffering—and hardly any action being done to do the same for our human sisters and brothers.

“Given the pace and scale of change, we can no longer exclude the possibility of reaching critical tipping points that could abruptly and irreversibly change living conditions on Earth.” [3]This quote comes from the World Wildlife Populations Down 50% in Last 40 Years video, which explains just what the title says. There are critical tipping points that are coming closer and closer to being reached each day, and very little being done to reduce the strain of these.

One way to remember the reasons that are causing this biodiversity loss is through HIPPCO: Habitat destruction, degradation, and fragmentation; Invasive (nonnative) species; Population growth and increasing use of resources; Pollution; Climate change; and Overexploitation. Habitat destruction is at this time the most common damaging action being taken, and is a difficult one to stop. It can be difficult to realize too; people in industrialized parts of the United States took great pity on the wildfires being burned in the Amazon Rainforest in late 2019, but were hypocritical to the land that was destroyed so that their city or suburb could be built.

This also reminds me of an interaction I saw on Instagram the other day. There was a post by National Geographic on how salmon are being overfished and losing their wild habitat. One of the top comments stated something along the lines of, “this is why we need to farm salmon! Stop fishing in the wild, it’s the only way to protect them!” And it made me think, because if the problem is that isolated—salmon in the wild are disappearing, so just eat the ones that are farmed—then that would work, maybe. But the issue with salmon, or any species, is that they do not exist in a vacuum. They are an integral part of ecosystems in their natural habitats; farming salmon would eliminate a lot of the benefits that salmon have in the wild.

I was just having a discussion with my brother about this too, and we started making a list of things: what if cows were wild? Would they look the same or had hundreds of years of domestication made them softer and bigger, as chickens have become? Farms make evolution work differently.

As do zoos. Is there any real chance of zoos integrating animals back into the wild? I support animal education, and I get that it’s easier to study animals in zoos than in the wild sometimes.

Figure 3: A photo I took in February, 2019 of the South African Lion and Safari Park website where they acknowledge that they do not feel comfortable with their own lion-petting exhibits but continue to have them for economic purposes. The website has since been renovated and this page was completely removed.

But zoos tend to really get me questioning their ethics. Are they necessary for people to understand why it’s necessary to protect them, or is watching high quality documentaries enough to give humans a change of heart? I had a huge fallout with some friends of mine while we were studying abroad in South Africa because they went to a Lion Park where lions are bred and adults are euthanized.  I heard lots of, “but you connect with the animals! You learn to respect them for their conservation! They do scientific research there!” And then the question is, how different is using horses for entertainment? Is it not practically the same as breeding lions for human entertainment? This isn’t the section of the course dedicated to philosophy, but the unanswered questions remain, bring the choice back to whether we will keep the turning the world grey or work on brightening its diversity.

The Critical Thinking Question #5 on page 218 is a tough one: what would you do if a wild boar invaded and tore up your yard or garden?

Currently my dad is having an issue where these strange moth-type bugs build cocoons on the pine trees separating our house from our neighbors. They’re killing the pine trees, because when they make their cocoons, they eat the needles. My dad asked me, as an environmental studies major, what the best option would be: let the bugs take over the trees and once they turn brown, cut them down? Or use pesticides to kill the trees?

Critical Thinking Question # 5 on page 250 asks: Are you in favor of establishing more wilderness areas in the United States?

To that I say: YES TO MORE WILDERNESS AREAS!!!! More old growth forests means more biodiversity! Any disadvantages would just be hidden advantages; for example, less room for suburban sprawl would give more space for the earth to heal.Less private space allows for more public space, which can be used by humans, vegetations, and wildlife.  

WC:1189

Question: It is interesting too, that some species are considered accidentally introduced/invasive. Are humans accidentally introduced to places, or do we make possible the ability to sustain life on any corner of the earth because we were designed to do that?

Blog 8: Eat or Be Eaten.

Aquatic Biodiversity Loss and Extinction

Figure 1: Lake Erie, 2015, https://www.nps.gov/piro/learn/nature/images/Waves-on-shore_1.jpg?maxwidth=1200&autorotate=false

Unless you have seen one of the Great Lakes with your own eyes, you cannot fathom what they are really like: vast, powerful bodies of water, with big waves and long stretches of sandy beaches; comparable to an ocean. I grew up living about a block away from Lake Erie, and when I was younger, I really hated my hometown. I wanted to live in a big city. My parents countered my arguments by emphasising how lucky we were to live in the Great Lakes Basin. It wasn’t until I attended a March for Science that I realised how important it was to protect the lakes — see me pictured below with my generic sign, and my friend Max holding a sign that my mom crafted; she’s the one taking the photo.

Figure 2: Cleveland’s March for Science Protest, 2017. Photo by author.

Part of my love of the Great Lakes, and of open bodies of water in general, comes from me living so close to them. But as Sylvia Earle is quoted in the beginning of chapter 12, “With every drop of water you drink, with every breath you take, you are connected to the sea, no matter where on Earth you live” (253).[1] Even if you live in a desert, every decision you make can in some way affect aquatic ecosystem services. Take, for example, the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.

Figure 3: Eastern Great Pacific Garbage Patch, 2019.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/scottsnowden/2019/05/30/300-mile-swim-through-the-great-pacific-garbage-patch-will-collect-data-on-plastic-pollution/#4b2a7f36489f

There are actually two large garbage patches with some connecting debris in-between them; the greater of these patches is just off the coast of California, and is about 600,000 square miles, and in some areas, several feet deep. It is an island floating on the surface of the water, made up of plastics and microplastics. Because plastic is not biodegradable, the Garbage Patch continues to grow, and many animals, such as the albatross pictured below, die due to ingestion of these plastics, which Chris Jordan documents hauntingly well in the film Albatross.[2]

Figure 4: Albatross Bodies with Plastic, 2018,

https://www.albatrossthefilm.com/ourstory

One thing that I think could have been better written about in this chapter is water distribution. I stumbled through this very briefly in my presentation while explaining biophilia and the damaging effects of trying to make Las Vegas into an oasis in the desert. I understand that this chapter is focused more on the biodiversity of aquatic ecosystems, but I still think that concept 11.5 of this chapter could go more in depth with the ownership rights of water sources, or perhaps the section on the Great Lakes in the previous section could explain how although the Great Lakes are the largest collective body of freshwater in the world, water diversions are pretty much limited to regions within the Great Lakes Basin, and why it is important that it stays that way.

Critical Thinking Question #2, p. 280:

Three Greatest Threats to Aquatic Biodiversity

1.     Ocean Acidification

2.     Plastic Pollution

3.     Coastal Wetland and Watershed Protection

4.     Overfishing (if there are fish left after the above 3 are increased!)

The list above is my answer to the Critical Thinking Question for this chapter. All of them are caused by humans on the land. The greatest threat according to me is that of ocean acidification, or the increasing amounts of heat and acidity in the oceans. This stems from increased Co2 in the atmosphere. One of the main factors contributing to that, is animal agriculture.

Soil, Agriculture, and Food

Figure 5: You Can Smell the Methane in This Photo, 2014

https://www.wilderutopia.com/health/cowspiracy-animal-agriculture-despoils-land-water-and-climate/

Chapter 12 in the textbook discusses the effect of food production on the environment. I act like I know a lot about this when people ask me why I’m a vegetarian, but this chapter was full of great information and details that I didn’t fully understand until now.

The issue with animal agriculture is not only that Co2 is basted into the atmosphere through gasses released form the animals and humans which eat them, and the clearing of land for the animals. With the depletion of biodiversity to allow animals grazing land, vital natural habitats for other species are lost, as shown in George Monbiot’s brief video on rewilding the countryside and rural areas.[3]

Truthfully, I expected the chapter to be much more focused on animal agriculture alone. But other forms of farming are nearly as bad, as pictured below.

Figure 6: Effects of Food Production of Any Sort

https://slideplayer.com/slide/6187595/

I’m also glad that the chapter covered a comparison of overnutrition and malnutrition. I found the quote: “We live in a world where, according to the WHO, about 795 million people face health problems because they do not get enough nutritious food to eat and at least another 2.1 billion (29% of the human population) have health problems stemming largely from eating too much sugar, fat, and salt.”[4] The greed of modern civilization never ceases to amaze me.

Critical Thinking Question #1 p. 320

Figure 7: Vertical Harvest of Jackson Hole, 2013.

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/2056017617/vertical-harvest-of-jh-a-growing-system-for-change

If I were a member of Growing Power Inc. and in charge of turning an abandoned shopping center into an organic farm, I would begin by getting a perfect team together; potentially including some of the students in this class (networking!). I’d do my best to dismantle the concrete and debris of the shopping center, and reuse whatever I was able to on the spot. As it is in the Case Study, my farm would be powered partly by solar electricity and solar hot water systems, and would be structured like a green house to keep the produce supported year round. As it is in Jackson Hole’s Vertical Harvest organic urban farm, my employee positions would first be open to disabled peoples who are working on communication skills, training in this center for jobs elsewhere.[5] We would be deeply integrated into the community, selling our produce locally and donating to food banks and soup kitchens whenever possible. That sounds too good to be true, but we’ll leave it at that.

Question, and I think about this every day: which is better for the environment, to be vegan and avoid animal products entirely but eat non-local tofu or other forms of meatless protein; or to eat only locally sourced food which would make animal products more of a staple to the diet?

WC: 1156

[1] Miller, G. Tyler, and Scott E. Spoolman. Living in the Environment. Chapter 11: Sustaining Aquatic Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services. 19th ed. Boston, MA: Engage Learning, 2020.

[2] Jordan, Chris. Albatross. https://www.albatrossthefilm.com

[3] Smith, Peter. “George Monbiot on reqilding countryside and rural areas” YouTube, 2016. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K1KW-0YbO3Q

[4] Miller, G. Tyler, and Scott E. Spoolman. Living in the Environment. Chapter 12: Food Production and the Environment, p. 286. 19th ed. Boston, MA: Engage Learning, 2020.

[5] “Vertical Harvest Jackson Hole,” Vertical Harvest,  https://www.verticalharvestjackson.com/our-mission.

Blog 9: Fight the System by Appreciating Soil and Supporting Local Farmers !

Symphonies of the Soil

Figure 1: Cover Artwork, 2012, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2229397/

When I began watching this documentary, I braced myself for what I thought was going to be a long, boring hour-and-a-half. But by the end of it, I think it may have changed the trajectory of my summer plans.

The first half of the documentary is an almost meditative description of different types of soils found across planet earth, backed by an orchestral score. Ironically, one of the first phrases of the narrator is: “most of the planet is non-living.”[1]And it is. As my sister pointed out, even humans are mostly CHON: carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen. Yet plots of land are not 100% soil; half of it is the compounds that make up soil, and half of it consists of spaces for air, water, and microorganisms which use soil to survive.

Figure 2: Andy Foraging for Mushrooms in Washington, 2019, photo by author.

This point leads to another: you cannot grow good produce in a void. If you were to strip a type of soil down to its purest form and attempt at planting anything in it, it likely would not be successful. This seems to be the thesis of the second half of the documentary: farmers need to feed soil the natural ingredients it needs to be nutritional.

As I don’t have a very strong science background, some of this went over my head, such as the part about the lupines and nitrogen fixation. This summer, as long as the pandemic settles down, I hope to get an internship or job working in permaculture or vertical harvesting. It’s very odd to me that I can talk so much about the environment but know so little about it in a physical way. Although I try to shop mostly locally or from farmers markets, the development I grew up in didn’t allow gardens aside from flower beds, so I have had very little connection to soil or the ground I live on.

A critique I have of this film is that they paid very little attention to indigenous practices of cultivating soil, or hunter-gatherer ideas. They looked at how the harmful processes began, with civilizations in Europe flattening out the hillsides and beginning monocrop farming during the agricultural revolution, and they did discuss the Law of Return, but I thought there might be more references with how the soil had been used in previous human populations, and perhaps a discussion on primitivism. The discussion that was had in the film was more focused on finding a structured form of rewilding agriculturally, which I support, but still I thought the film could show the other side, and give more credit to the indigenous groups that have been pushing for this rewinding for centuries.

Figure 3: Stone Age Reenactment Group, http://www.jutulskinn.no/stone-age-gathering.

No matter how far you think society should dive into with a return to primitivism, the message of this video is clear: we can do a better job at how we farm, in order to produce healthier more sustainable products. It feels as though this shouldn’t be too difficult—but with the rigid constraints set forth by the corporations involved in the agricultural industry, farmers have very little say in how their crops get produced, and animals have become far removed from from the agricultural process, removing a great source of natural fertilizer as well. The next film explains that a bit more.

Food, Inc.

Figure 4: Food, Inc. Cover Image, 2008, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1286537/mediaviewer/rm3514966016.

Food, Inc. uses various segments to explain the systems put in place to produce food, and how rigid those constraints are within the law-and-order system of the United States of America. These segments range from showing statistics, interviews, and video clips of what the world of agriculture is really like.

I found the Polyface Farms clips to be fascinating, because it was so difficult to watch and listen to, but was still the best possible scenario for meat farming. The cattle fertilize and mow the variety of greens they eat; there are no shipments of corn that have to be made. As Joel says, “it’s all real solar dollars….we’re every bit as efficient, especially if you plug in all of the inefficiencies of the industrial system.” [2]

Figure 5: Joel at Polyface Farms, http://www.temeats.com/polyface-farms/.

I think this will be the hardest connection for people to make, especially because we need food to sustain ourselves. Someone can be addicted to nicotine and cut it out of their lives, or can choose to avoid it altogether. But they cannot simply ignore food. People can ignore bad food, but the temptation is always lingering as a possibility, and if you grew up like I did—eating processed foods for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until I was about sixteen and realized I needed to be healthier—breaking away from those habits can feel like the single most challenging thing to accomplish. And when fast food is the only option due to income levels, the cycle gets even more challenging to break.

Figure 6: Elk in Wyoming, https://content.osgnetworks.tv/petersenshunting/content/photos/bull-elk-bugling.jpg

I am reminded of an argument that put me on bad terms with my boss at my summer job as a waitress at a guest ranch near Jackson, Wyoming. Elk lived in the meadows just outside the property and were hunted and sold locally. One of our most popular items on the menu was elk tenderloin, and once I had a guest ask how local the elk we served was, a reasonable assumption as our website says that our kitchen sources locally and is as sustainable as possible, even though the menu does not specify what is or is not local. Upon speaking with the head chef I learned that the elk was actually shipped in, frozen, from Austria. The more getting-into-everybody-else’s-business that I did, the more I realized that the only ingredients we used that weren’t shipped in from Sysco were a weak amount of herbs from the farmers market. That guest was from Philadelphia and could have had fresher elk had he shipped it from Austria to Pennsylvania rather than Austria to Utah to Wyoming.

Along with that, our menu was incredibly meat-and-potatoes based, following exactly the prediction that humans are hard-wired to crave salt, fat, and sugar.

Something my mom makes fun of me for saying all the time is “it’s supply and demand!” as if all the problems in the world could be that simple. But in truth, they can be. And I hope that just as my generation has severely damaged the tobacco industry, the next generation can put an end to big corporations controlling the food industry, so that 30% of the United States’ land base will not be corn, and the choice between medication or buying vegetables will be unfathomable, and local food companies will overrule the 4 major meat companies in charge now.

A critique I have of Food, Inc. is that there is very little said about the dairy and fishing industries. I felt that there could have been an additional segment on those in the film—perhaps they aren’t as bad as the meat and corn industries, but I do not feel as though they are righteous enough to be counted out of this conversation.

I also am a bit confused by the Monsanto segment and hope to discuss that in our class time.

Question: Food, Inc. is very focused on the United States of America. What are food systems like in other parts of the world? Is there a correlation between colonized places having more fast-food?

WC: 1257

[1] Garcia, Deborah Koons, director. Symphony of the Soil. YouTube, 2012, www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDZVKMe2FTg.

[2] Kenner, Robert, et al. Food, Inc. 2008. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=smk2xq2l3Ig

Blog 10: The Health of the Environment, The Health of Humans

Figure 1, COVID-19 illustration, https://www.statnews.com/2020/02/11/disease-caused-by-the-novel-coronavirus-has-name-covid-19/

This week’s focus is on hazards and waste on human health and the environment. Chapter 17 in the textbook begins with a discussion on diseases stimulated from biological and chemical hazards and how these can be linked with environmental causes. The chapter ends with a discussion on risks, and how decision making can affect the world around us.

One of the most frustrating, common, and powerful diseases is cancer. Cancer’s direct cause in an individual is unknown. The title of the article “Breast Cancer: prevention or Cure? Why Is Breast Cancer Awareness/Cure Run By Major Chemical Companies?” gives good insight to the confusion around cancer research. The article goes on to explain the intricacies behind cancer research and bring to light the distrust that many people rightfully have towards corporations that are in control of cancer funding and research. Again, I see these problems tying so deeply into capitalism: individuals finding ways for their own selves to be as successful as possible without working towards the greater good.

Ethics always comes in to play and is very noticeable in this chapter. If malaria is such a murderous disease, and malaria is spread by mosquitoes, how bad would it be to just completely wipe out the mosquito population? I admit that I will appreciate any bug that lands on me, or gently flick them off, unless they are a mosquito. I do not like the inconvenience of mosquito bites, and killing mosquitoes gives me a weird sort of satisfaction that I could not achieve from the death of any other living being. In my biology class last semester, we looked at a case study of several scientists who were considering wiping out mosquitoes entirely in areas of the world susceptible to malaria. After long debates, no conclusion was reached. It feels wrong to eliminate a species that is annoying to us—if this is possible, then who’s going to stop the wolves in the western United States from eating cattle on ranches encroaching on their wild territory? At the same time, this could be a heroic achievement and an extreme stress-reliever for humankind.

These things seem like such simple solutions: page 455 of the textbook lists some ways to avoid exposure to hormone disrupters. Yet the article of the man who eliminated plastic from his life yet still got microplastics from his milk which was stored in a mason jar but filtered through a plastic lining proves that even when trying desperately to follow that advice, it is still just about impossible to be rid of them completely.

Figure 2, Microplastics Diagram, https://www.java-biocolloid.com/event/the-threads-of-microplastics-in-food-8721

I recently read the chapter “The Indian Healer” out of The Indian Giver, a book by Jack Weatherford in which he goes through the various ways that Native American peoples have contributed to modern medical technology or found the basis for medications. Native American practices of healing should be can be used to encourage well-being in medical practices, so as to put into action ways that advance views on the interconnectedness of community, the environment, and medicine overall.

I can’t help but think of what it felt to be alive before the industrial period began. I generally do feel better when I have spent some time in fresh air—but any fresh air in this day and age still has toxins in and around it, and no food nor water is completely free of microplastics or

A quick critique I have about all the extra informational videos and articles is that although they are very interesting, they are quite outdated. In other classes I am not allowed to cite articles older than five years old, and all of these are from the mid 2000s. I understand needing to learn the history of how we perceive chemicals in the body, but there was no range for that either. I’m curious as to what research has been put out within the last few years—or months.

CTQ #7 on p. 468 asks to name some risks that I face and how to eliminate or reduce those risks. This causes me to check my privilege once again; even when I come across pollution, I will likely have access to the best healthcare to heal me from whatever risks may concern me. There are risks that I can avoid, but that I still choose; I have chosen to live in Manhattan, with all its pollution, instead of living in a pristine area out west. Yet perhaps my education in New York will allow me to strengthen my ties with academia so that I can preserve those lands out west.

Solid and Hazardous Waste

I also recently read Waste Seige: the Life of Infrastructure in Palestine by Sophia Stamatopoulou-Robbins, who’s covering the discussions behind environmental, economic, and social issues that in occupied Palestine. Through illegal occupation, Israeli settlers are forcing neo-capitalist practices in the area, leading to more forced consumption, leading to more waste in an area that cannot contain it, and does not have the finances nor the leadership to create more sustainable waste options, such as those shown in the textbook. Palestine has become a literal dumpsite, and the effects of the toxins in the various wastes infiltrating the area is murderous. There is an ironic “Polluter Pays Principle” in use, where the governmental organizations have Palestinians pay higher taxes because technically they are the ones who are polluting—it is their sewer systems overflowing, their land that has the burning dump sites, and their people who are being cheap, non-sustainable products. Ironically, the sewers are flooding because Israeli-settler waste flows directly into them as well; landfills in that region are almost all located in designated Palestinian areas; and the suffocation of the economic process in Palestine keeps their people from having any upward mobility.

Figure 3, Landfill in Palestine, https://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/.premium.MAGAZINE-israel-s-solution-for-expelled-bedouin-between-garbage-and-junkyard-1.6158225

CTQ #1 p. 600: List three products you use and make them cradle-to-cradle.

The past two years I have begun having an immense feeling of guilt if I purchase something that isn’t made sustainably, or that isn’t able to be recycled or composted. When I need to buy something new (key word: need), I spend a lot of time looking into which company I can trust. I get most of my products from Package Free Shop. But as I keep saying, it goes back to economics. I’m sure anyone who uses their shampoo and conditioner bars and natural face oils would prefer it over whatever drugstore brand they use currently, but that price difference is what makes it so unreachable. To circle back, this is highlighted in Chapter 17’s discussion on HIV: lifesaving drugs are expensive, and simply cost too much to be used widely both in less-developed countries and in impoverished areas of industrialized countries.

Question: With marijuana becoming a much more common recreational and medicinal drug, I would have appreciated an unbiased discussion of it in this chapter, instead of it being left out completely. Does smoking marijuana affect your lungs as badly as smoking tobacco? Are there any studies being done on dab pens, which include THC but don’t include nicotine like traditional vape pens?

WC: 1105

Blog 11: Water (cont.)

Had I been patient with blog 8, I may have realized that there would be a whole other blog dedicated to water, filling in the gaps that I felt were left out in the previous readings—chapter 20 really digs into the inefficiencies of Ohio water treatment. This is that blog post, looking at chapters 13 and 20 in the textbook.[4]

Figure 1. Water Dispersal, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Water_resources

Chapter 13: Water Resources

Water is stored in many ways in the earth’s surface, but only 0.024% of the earth’s water is readily available as a liquid freshwater. Due to climate change, areas that are dry are becoming drier, and areas that are oversaturated are becoming wetter and with saltwater, not freshwater. With that small percentage of water that is usable to humans, about 70% is used to irrigate cropland and raise livestock.

Industrialized nations in particular treat water as if it is free; Miller and Spoolman note that “we have no substitute for this vital form of natural capital” (325). Things that don’t seem to be made of water need large amounts of it in order to be produced, such as blue jeans and lettuce; producing a quarter-pound hamburger takes about 2,400 liters of freshwater. “About 66% of the freshwater used in the world and about 50% of the freshwater used in the United States is lost through evaporations, leaks, and inefficient use” (342).  Water really is our most necessary resource, and we absolutely take it for granted.

The United States has lots of freshwater resources, particularly in the eastern states. The book reads, “the United States has more than enough renewable freshwater to meet its needs. However, it is unevenly distributed and much of it is contaminated by agricultural and industrial practices” (329). Freshwater shortages are becoming more common and will continue to expand as climate change increases. Aquifers are losing their water faster than the rain is refilling them—in some parts of the United States, four times as fast—and much of this water being taken out is going to waste. There are other frightening results that come from too much groundwater being pulled out of the earth, such as sinkholes, as pictured in Figure 2.

Figure 2. Sinkhole in Guatemala City, 2007. https://www.businessinsider.com/giant-sinkhole-photos-2014-9

There is an option of tapping deep aquifers that lie beneath the surface of the ocean, but this is dangerous in that they are nonrenewable on a human timeline, little is known about what effects doing this may have, no international treaties govern these areas yet, the costs are unknown, and the water is likely still contaminated with some salt, arsenic, and uranium.

Dams are also not an ideal way to increase water supplies, because even though they help humans in many ways, they can destroy the natural environment in many ways, which in turn brings destruction to humans after a matter of time. Desalination is another option, albeit a costly and perhaps inefficient one, though more research is being done in the search to find better desalination technology.

The 4 R’s of recycling (refuse, reduce, reuse, recycle) may be the best way to work with water. Refusing unnecessary amounts of water, and reducing one’s usage of necessary water, are two prime first steps to take when trying to heal water issues. Part of what will make this easier for people to remember to follow is if water is treated by society as a necessity, through higher prices of freshwater (and perhaps a Universal Basic Income – style user pays approach) and redirecting government subsidies to being more efficient. Simple household changes, such as installing low-flow toilets, fixing leaks as soon as they are noticed, and redesigning lawns and outdoor spaces with vegetation that suits the ecoregion can also help limit the amount of freshwater wasted. Vaster options can include incorporating infrastructures in communities that reuse greywater in areas that are able.

Water has no substitute. Sure, you can drink LaCroix or Coke Zero and treat that as your liquid intake for the day, but freshwater is at the base of those items. Without some form of h2o in our systems, humans would not survive for more than a few days.

Chapter 20: Water Pollution

The previous chapter had its focus on freshwater, and how to be efficient with it. This one focuses on what happens if that freshwater gets polluted. In some parts of the world, mercury, pathogens, metals, and other nutrients can kill people drinking the water if it is not treated properly. In some areas, this does not directly affect humans intake, but can affect humans lives in other ways—for example, all of northeast Ohio becoming a laughing stock when the Cuyahoga River caught on fire in the late 1960’s (see Figure 3).

Figure 3, Cuyahoga River fire recolored, June 1969. https://1960sdaysofrage.wordpress.com/2019/03/18/burn-on-big-river-cuyahoga-river-fires/

But in the textbook, Miller and Spoolman start this discussion of as saying that the Cuyahoga River fires were a success story. I rode my bike by the Cuyahoga River just the other day and it was not ablaze—there were fishermen and ducks in it. Still, most of the world’s major riverways are heavily polluted, with “80-90% of the raw sewage in most cities in less developed countries [is] discharged directly into waterways” (548). Yet there is hope that these rivers can heal, though it will take a tremendous amount of strength from the humans who have caused this incredible pollution in the first place.

Balance is another important factor into keeping water clean. No water, not even the “clean” water humans drink, is pure h20—that would kill us. We need small traces of other elements in it too. Too many nutrients, though, can lead to eutrophication, which is when a shallow body of water has too many nutrients, causing dense growths of organisms which decompose and suffocate the body of water, giving it a greenish-teal color.

Question:  Why are some mountain lakes so brightly colored? Does it have to do with eutrophication, even if they are pristine?

WC: 1112

Blog 12: Future, No Future

Figure 1: Protestors rally against pipelines being put into Wet’suwet’en land in Canada

First off, I would like to disagree with Justin Trudeau’s statement made at the Houston Energy Conference in 2017 where he says that “No country would find 173 billion barrels of oil in the ground and just leave them there.” I would like to believe that I, and many people with unselfish morals dedicating their lives to environmental justice, would let those oil barrels STAY IN THE GROUND.

I was surprised that Trudeau was the one to say it, as when I was younger, I thought he could do no evil; I was quite a little liberal. But now I see his desire for economic greed showing through his attempted democracy, just as I thought the Paris Climate Agreement was exactly what the world needed, and now see that there’s a lot of flimsy rhetoric in there. But we’ll get to that in a minute. First, the reading:

Chapter eleven of Simon Lewis and Mark Maslin’s The Human Planet: How We Created the Anthropocenetells how there are three possible future for the world: continued consumer capitalist development, collapse, or a new mode of living. [5]

Continue

Figure 2: Consumerism, http://links.org.au/node/1972

I think it’s interesting that they even gave continued consumer capitalist development a chance—I feel as though they could have just grouped that with collapse. I recognize that not many people (ie. My family who I am quarantined with) think the way I do, so I am glad they gave the explanation. Business as usual cannot continue. We are heading for collapse.

I suppose in some kind of sense, you could say that it can continue. But that’s because what’s continuing isn’t really capitalism in the first place. The small changes are already being had. For example, our right-wing president is dishing out monetary stimulus checks to bolster the economy, which smells a lot like socialism to me (delicious).

Lewis and Maslin explain our current economic system as being driven by positive feedback loops which end in fundamental changes. The factors which underlid all human societies are changing faster and faster as time moves onwards—it is true exponential growth. It is consumers acting as though we have infinite resources even while living on a finite planet. It is contradictory. But even in it’s core, our current system is one of change.

Perhaps the change requires all cars to be electric, but the increase in demand for electric cars requires an increase in demand for the lithium mined in Bolivia. Maybe there is no realistic, futuristic plan to put in place that will efficiently and sustainably save the world. Maybe I just need to read up more on this. Lewis and Maslin do offer some good suggestions, though, including Universal Basic Income and Half-Earth.

A New Way of Life?

Figure 3: Half-Earth website screenshot, https://www.half-earthproject.org

Universal Basic Income (UBI) and the Half-Planet theory are the two most clearly stated pathways for success of our planet that we have studied thus far.

UBI: I know a lot of professors don’t like to talk about their politics, but I was trying to figure out where yours lie as someone who knows so much about the interweaving’s of politics and the environment. A few months ago you dropped that you were a big proponent of UBI, and I thought, “aha! so Andrew Yang is the one who will save the environment!” But my impression of Yang’s UBI felt more focused on Artificial intelligence—I really just didn’t know a lot about UBI in general. (side note: I am REALLY excited for it to be summer so I can stop having deadlines and start just immersing myself in the random topics I want to learn more about. This course gave me a lotta suggestions.) After reading about it in this chapter, I think that UBI is really promising. Lewis and Maslin state that, “[UBI] breaks the link between work and consumption; we could work less and consume less and still meet our needs…those working in the fossil fuel industry would have the security of income to retrain” (406). This sounds incredibly promising, but there are still questions involving culture (some people feel more “manly” working in a coal mine) and how this would play out with refugees and non-citizens residing in the United States, etc. Still, I think a solid attempt at integrating this into our economy would help the world in lots of ways.

Half Earth: I am very interested in the idea of giving half the earth to other species, and perhaps indigenous groups as well. Again, I look at the suburbs and think of how seemingly easy it would be to develop rewilding techniques. All it would take is one popular suburban mom changing her front lawn from monoculture bluegrass to being a large garden—or whatever a local environmental rewilding consultant would suggest—and the rest of the neighborhood would follow suit. Half-Earth may seem like an enormous task to take on, but I genuinely have faith that it is possible.

Collapse

Figure 4: Quarantine Meme That My Mom Thought Was Real, https://www.boredpanda.com/nature-healing-quarantine-jokes/?utm_source=google&utm_medium=organic&utm_campaign=organic

As an environmental studies and anthropology double-major, people would ask me where those two overlap. I even felt that I was choosing two very different subjects because I was so scatter brained—I’d study a little about the environment, a little about humans, and figure out what I was going to do with that somewhere along the way. I let myself feel belittled for choosing two of the “easiest” subjects—no intense economics, no organic chemistry to work through. Just a lot of thinking too much about things which some people may consider completely irrelevant, a task which I am very good at. So it made me feel a lot better when, I believe it was you Dr. Kindervater, who said: “These two scientists think there is time for economic and political changes to save human kind. Culturally, though, do we believe it?”

For a long time I really thought that collapse was the only path our planet was headed towards—that Jane Goodall was bullshitting us all with her Reasons For Hope, and that if Bernie Sanders didn’t become president and begin balancing out the wealth gap and making changes to environmental legislation, then we might as well all be dead now and let whatever remaining species reclaim the earth before we make them go extinct too. I guess, if you’re someone who prefers life over death, (and I suppose we are all those types of people as even if we want to kill ourselves, we haven’t done it yet!) the we might as well have hope for the future, and continue working towards the new path.

“With great power comes great responsibility” is a quote from Uncle Ben in the Spiderman series, which Peter Parker/Spiderman keeps close to his heart as he begins to realize his powers, and is constantly questioned with the choice to use them selfishly or for the greater good. With increased technology, humankind collectively has the power to transform the earth or destroy it. I hope that soon we recognize what is at stake with our planet, and learn how to efficiently reduce the destruction being caused. It might not bring dolphins into the heat ponds of Washington D.C., but it would certainly allow for a lot of other miracles to happen.

Question:  My concern with UBI is, how can you make sure that people aren’t spending it irresponsibly? Would it be better to just raise the minimum wage, or expand the amount available for people to get food stamps and free healthcare? Would UBI allow people to get their basic needs met, or would it provide for spending money on sustainable/fair trade products?

WC: 1251

[1] Vidal, John. “UN Environment Program: 200 Species Go Extinct Every Day, Unlike Anything Since Dinosaurs Disappeared 65 Million Years Ago,” Huffpost May 2011. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/un-environment-programme-_n_684562

[2] Miller, G. Tyler, and Scott E. Spoolman. Living in the Environment. Chapter 23: Economics, Environment, and Sustainability. 19th ed. Boston, MA: Engage Learning, 2020.

[3] https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x26ybub

[4] Miller, G. Tyler, and Scott Spoolman. Living in the Environment . 19th ed. S.l.: Cengage Learning, 2018.

[5] Lewis, Simon L., and Mark A. Maslin. “Chapter 11: Can Homo Dominates Become Wise?” The Human Planet: How We Created the Anthropocene, Yale University Press, pp. 367–416.

[gethealthy18-blog]

Modi On Man Vs Wild: What He Did And What He Said About Nature, His Childhood, And His Message To The Youth

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/getting-healthy/getting-healthy-women/modi-on-man-vs-wild-what-he-did-and-what-he-said-about-nature-his-childhood-and-his-message-to-the-youth/

Modi On Man Vs Wild: What He Did And What He Said About Nature, His Childhood, And His Message To The Youth

Chaitra Krishnan Hyderabd040-395603080 August 13, 2019

We’ve seen many world leaders and policymakers trying to work positively towards environment conservation. But to get into the wild and interact with nature just the way our species used to centuries ago (and not in a safari vehicle), isn’t everyone’s piece of cake. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, the man leading the world’s largest democracy proved that he has always been one with nature by spending some quality time with Bear Grylls on Discovery channel’s Man Vs Wild show. The episode that aired on Monday night at IST 9:00 PM was awaited by the whole world ever since Bear Grylls shared its teaser on Twitter a couple of days ago.

The show is all about being able to survive in the wild with bare minimum commodities, by using whatever is in your backpack. Bear Grylls has proven his ability to survive in the most difficult terrains and gruesome jungles by attacking the predators and has also become a predator himself when needed. However, it was a first for Modi to embark upon an adventure of the same kind. Let’s take a sneak peek into the highlights of the show.

The Start Of The Episode

The episode starts with Bear Grylls landing in the Jim Corbett National Park situated in the state of Uttarakhand on a helicopter. Jim Corbett National Park is India’s oldest wildlife sanctuary and was established in 1936. It is named after Jim Corbett, a famous naturalist, and hunter who killed man-eating tigers and leopards. However, the sanctuary was established to protect India’s national animal, the Bengal tiger! And the essence of the entire episode revolved around the conservation and protection of the wildlife and our environment.

After he meets the Prime Minister, Grylls decides to take away from the trail path and heads deep into the jungle. While exploring the beauty of the wilderness around them, they shared many moments of light-hearted humor and valuable life lessons. For example, Modi bursts into laughter when Grylls tells him about the time he squeezed the essence of fresh elephant dung into his mouth for survival. And when Grylls reminds Modi that the jungle is dangerous, Modi tells him that it’s dangerous only when we go against nature and we should learn how to co-exist with our environment.

Grylls then makes a weapon with the help of a wooden stick that he picks out from the forest, a knife, and a piece of string that he brought along. He explains to Modi that a weapon is necessary to stay safe in the forest that is home to more than 250 Bengal tigers who are smart predators. The adventure seekers then walk towards a nearby river that would help them get out of the tall grass area that made them vulnerable to the predators. They cross the river on a raft made by Grylls with some sticks, hay, and a tarpaulin sheet and then continue their chat over a hot cup of tea.

Modi On His Childhood

When Grylls asks Modi about his childhood, Modi jokes that he cannot admit that he was a good student. He also tells Grylls about his family, his village, and the humble financial background he was raised in. “I didn’t have a sophisticated childhood. When I went to school I kept myself perfect, I didn’t have an iron at home so used to keep burnt coal in a copper bowl to iron my shirt,” Modi says. He also recollects the time when he would sell tea at the railway station whenever he didn’t have school, to help out his father who used to run a tea stall.

Talking on the importance of living in harmony with nature, Modi narrates an old family story about his uncle who wanted to sell firewood. He tells Grylls that his uncle was forbidden to pursue the business by his grandmother as she was against cutting down trees. He also recollects another story about the time he caught a crocodile from a river that he went to bathe in. “My mother said to me this is wrong. You cannot do this. You should not do this, put it back. I went and put it back,” Modi said.

Modi On His Youth

beargrylls/ Instagram

The Prime Minister recalls the time he was 17 and had left his home. “I wanted to make a decision about my life. But before that, I wanted to understand the world. I wanted to see the spiritual world. For that, I went to the Himalayas. I fell in love with nature. I met people in the Himalayas, stayed with them. It was a wonderful experience and I spent a long time there,” he said.

When Grylls asks Modi about what he feels about becoming the Prime Minister of India, he says, “It never occurs to me as to who I am. I am above all this. When I was a Chief Minister and even now as the Prime Minister, I only think of my work, my responsibilities. My position never goes to my head.” Also, he encouraged the youth to think of life as a whole and take the downs as a way to climb to the top.

beargrylls / Instagram

During their travel, Grylls asks Modi what will help India become clean. To this, the Prime Minister replies, “It’s only the people of India who can make India clean. Personal hygiene is in the culture of the Indian people. We need to develop the habit of social hygiene. Mahatma Gandhi has done a lot of work on it and recently we are getting good success in this. I believe India will succeed in this very soon.”

About being on the show, Modi says that it brought back the happy memories of his youth. On a heart-warming note, Grylls bids goodbye to his travel partner for the episode by reciting a prayer for him. But he doesn’t fail to bring back the humor bit as he asks the Prime Mister if his underpants are dry after the river ride!

Modi is the second world leader to appear in the show after Barack Obama. Hopefully, the awareness that he raised with the help of this show will lead to something fruitful for our environment and wildlife. Did you watch Modi’s day out with Bear Grylls on Man Vs Wild? What is your opinion about this episode? Share your thoughts with us in the comments section below.

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