#with cows on our front yard from the local farm

[terrasu]

What are the cities in other countries that used to be prosperous centers of industry and transit that ended up partially or wholly abandoned due to white flight, economic gutting of former industry, etc.

[octuscle]

Blood is thicker than water

Peter hated being out in the fresh air. He had hated working on the farm ever since he had had to help his grandparents muck out the barn during the summer vacation. Yes, there weren't many other ways to earn money here in Lincoln now. But Nebraska wasn't Peter's future either. He was very sure of that. His future would be somewhere in New York, Singapore or London. Somewhere where the big money was. That's where he wanted to go. And that was where he belonged.

The job at the local bank wasn't that glamorous yet. But it was the starting point. Working at the cash desk, processing loan applications, it was all just a prelude to the glittering world of investment banking and hedge funds. He was hardworking, he was smart and charming. And he looked incredibly good in a suit.

When the board called him into his office, Peter saw his big moment had come. He adjusted his tie knot, took a deep breath, knocked and entered the office of his top boss. "Peter, good to see you, have a seat!" Mr. Harrison greeted him. "I hear wonderful things from you. I thought it was long overdue to meet you in person." Peter had to make an effort to stay cool. "As you probably know, the head of our corporate client department is being replaced. And even though you're actually a bit young for a position as head of department, I've been advised to consider you." Strike, thought Peter. "However, I have a, shall we say, delicate task… But if you master it successfully, I have no doubts that you are the right man for the job." A few minutes later, Peter wished he had never started at the bank.

The farm he was on his way to belonged to his uncle Cleatus. It had once been his grandparents' farm. His mother's parents' farm. Not the one where he had had the humiliating experience in the cowshed. This was his father's parents' farm. Damn it, he thought to himself. I must have manure running through my veins. I come from a clan of cows. "Anyone home?" he called out as he arrived in the yard between the stables and the house. The farm looked run-down. He hadn't been here for a long time. Suddenly he heard someone loading a shotgun. "I'm not expecting visitors!" Peter heard a harsh voice. Peter turned around and grinned as friendly as he could. "Hi Uncle Cleatus! It's me, Peter" "Peter, damn it, why are you in disguise? You look like an asshole from the bank!" Peter gulped. This was going to be fun. His uncle invited him into the large kitchen. It was dirty and untidy. Peter saw the pile of unopened post. He took a deep breath, declined the offered beer and began: "Uncle Cleatus, I'm actually not here by choice. And let me get straight to the point: I'm one of those assholes from the bank…"

"Junior!" roared Cleatus. "Say goodbye to your cousin!" Peter looked down the barrel of the shotgun. It hadn't gone as well as he had hoped when he told his uncle that the farm would have to be foreclosed. "Junior, now!". The floor shook as Junior approached the kitchen. It was beginning to stink. Slurry, sweat… And then his cousin Junior stood in front of him. A colossus! He took him in his arms and almost crushed him. "Throw him out, the asshole!" Peter lost the ground beneath his feet. Junior carried him out into the yard. And threw him into the mud. He lay in mud, cow shit and manure. Peter picked himself up and turned around. He wanted to protest. But one look in Junior's direction was enough. And he took off in the direction of the town.

Something was strange… Peter should actually feel humiliated and bad. But he was fine. The dirt on his ruined suit was drying. He was sweating in the warm air. He whistled a song. He was doing well. Of course, his uncle's farm hadn't been saved, but at least he hadn't put his own family out on the street. Shit, that wouldn't be worth a promotion on this planet either. He was beginning to develop pride in his grandparents' accomplishments working this land. They had made this country great. That made him very proud. And he was growing, without realizing it, in his suit.

He had parked his car outside on the country road so as not to get it dirty on the muddy dirt track. Peter now stripped out of his dirty suit on the road and sat in the car half naked so as not to soil the seats. The suit lay crusty, but neatly folded, in the trunk. It wasn't the end of the day yet. He had to report to the bank. He needed something to wear. And, given the way he smelled of cow shit and manure, a shower, too. Peter scratched his chin to think. His chin was scratchy. Very scratchy. And his upper arm looked kind of powerful. His cock in his boxer shorts was getting hard. Shit, what was he going to do now? Fortunately, he remembered the workwear store at the entrance to the town. He would find something to wear there. Maybe nothing from an Italian designer. But it would certainly be better than underwear.

The waitress in the store looked as if she was always serving men in their underwear. Peter mumbled that he needed something for the office. The waitress nodded understandingly and said that a guy who was built like him was certainly not the kind of person who would fit into an office. Peter didn't understand, but nodded. "Go into the changing room, I'll bring you something," said the sales assistant. Peter did as he was told. He looked in the mirror. Yes, he was a man who, in his underwear, you would probably expect to see as a construction worker or tree cutter. Arms like his didn't really fit into a shirt. "You look like you have an appointment at the bank," said the sales clerk. "You'll want to look respectable." Peter actually wanted to say that he worked at the bank. But somehow he had the feeling that wasn't true… "Yes, I have a farm to save," Peter replied. "Shit situation," replied the salesman. "Bankers are all vultures!"

When Peter arrived back at his small office, where he was a corporate account manager, he took a deep breath. Yes, he too was a vulture. But not as bad as the money-grabbing careerists up there. He was a passionate banker. He wanted to help people. His people. Before he called Mr. Harrison, he took a deep breath. His huge chest rose and fell. He reeked of sweat in his cheap polyester shirt. And after his visit to the farm, he probably had cow shit in the treads of his rough boots. But he just wasn't the type for penny loafers and Egyptian cotton shirts. He was a guy from Nebraska. Even if he did work in a bank.

The conversation with Mr. Harrison went as Peter had expected. You couldn't expect sympathy from a man like that. And Peter didn't want to work with a man like that again. He had saved hard. His dream had been to buy a house in the suburbs soon. But now there were more important things. One word followed the next in the phone call with Mr. Harrison. Until Peter plucked up his courage and told the vulture to stick his money up his ass. Peter would pay off his uncle's debts. And then turn his back on the bank. He threw his tie in the garbage can. And unbuttoned his shirt. Free! Free at last!

Junior was quite a challenge. His cousin was a few weeks older than him. And he hadn't been softened up by working in the city. But Pete had been living on the farm for a few weeks now and, thanks to his cooperation, there was a silver lining. The auction was off the table. Everything would be fine. And at the next wrestling match in the cowshed, Junior would lose and Pete would win. And the winner would get his cock sucked by the loser. Life on the farm was wonderful!

[victorluvsalice]

We return to the Chill Valicer Save on Fall Friday, with another, shorter update featuring the gang back to their usual routines -- namely, taking care of the farm and getting those shelves filled at the store! Let's get right to it, shall we?

-->First things first though -- adorable kitten times! Alice and Smiler both met our new arrivals Shock and Surprise last episode, so it was Victor's turn to get introduced to the kittens! A process that took longer than anticipated, because of course adorable kittens have to do adorable kitten things, and that often involves hiding under couches and rolling over and running around all over the shop while their poor owner waits patiently for the "Wait For Pet" interaction to finally complete. XD Oh, Sims 4 pets... Shock and Surprise, you're lucky you're cute. :p

-->While I was waiting for the kitten nonsense to complete, though, I did notice that we still had an unwelcome visitor hanging around -- Temperance! Despite having been thoroughly cowed by Victor's bizarre idol last time, she was still in the back yard talking to the local specters instead of properly fucking off. I plopped the bizarre idol back out for a bit while Victor got to know the kittens, and she FINALLY took her leave. Off with you, ghost who is the "big bad" of the Paranormal stuff pack and yet is somehow less annoying than Guidry himself.

-->With Temperance banished and the kittens introduced to all the various members of the family, it was time to get started on the day properly! Smiler was already busy editing their new fashion vlog so they could get it out while the trend was still hot -- once that was done and the video posted, I sent them out to the greenhouse to get Bugs and Elmer the garden-bots out and running while Victor and Alice enjoyed some breakfast (buttered crumpets and chicken chimichurri skewers respectively). The bots got busy watering and weeding while Smiler started harvesting all their herbalism stuff and plasma fruits --

Only to be attacked by bees. Darn things apparently objected to Smiler picking their chamomile today. *shakehead* Fortunately the injuries were minor, and Smiler managed to pick up Gardening Level 6 from their harvesting, so that was good! (And it's not as bad as what MIGHT have happened -- I foolishly went into Build Mode to try and move some of the seed packets the gnomes had left behind during Harvestfest while Smiler was getting the bots ready, only to remember too late "SHIT THAT MIGHT AUTO-HARVEST THE PLANTS INTO THE HOUSEHOLD INVENTORY." Fortunately I was lucky and all the produce stayed on the vine, whew. A narrow escape!)

-->While all that was going on, Victor went around the front to check on Toothy the cowplant -- and found their bin knocked over! A final "fuck you" from Temperance as she left, or the result of an angry townie? The world will never know... Fortunately, it wasn't a big deal -- Victor just picked up the bin, sorted through the trash pile for parts, then recycled it and all the other crap in his inventory for bits and pieces. Keeping the farm nice and eco-friendly! :)

[isitgintimeyet]

Just a Friend

Sorry you’ve had to wait a few more days. i had a much needed few days holiday in Devon. And I realised it was the first time since February that I’d travelled more than 20 miles from home!

Anyway, we’re on to chapter 7. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

Previous

AO3

Chapter 7: From Feedback to The Force

I can see it clearly in my mind’s eye. A converted barn, situated at the end of a leafy country lane, surrounded by fields full of cows and maybe a horse or two. Jamie’s office will be at one end— all exposed beams with classic mahogany and leather furniture. Perhaps chickens will be roaming around outside as tractors pull up to deliver vegetables straight from the neighbouring fields.

This image begins to fade as I follow my Sat nav instructions and take the next junction off the motorway. Country lanes look to be few and far between in this urban sprawl. Signposts along the tarmacked road point to a series of industrial estates. At the fourth such sign, I’m instructed to turn left and in three hundred yards will have reached my destination.

Having parked up, I make my way towards the large, uninspiring building which resembles some sort of aircraft hangar. Its grey concrete and corrugated iron walls match the overcast sky and the roughly surfaced car park. The only colour in this landscape is provided by the bright orange FraserFood logo emblazoned above the loading bays.

There’s a single door to the right with an intercom. I press it and wait a few seconds.

“Hello, there.” A cheery voice greets me. “Can I help ye?”

“Yes. Hello, I’ve an appointment with Ja— Mr. Fraser, Jamie. It’s Claire Beauchamp.”

“Aye, come on through. Jamie is expecting ye. Down the passage and third door on the left.”

I step into a long corridor, painted an unoriginal white. Fluorescent strip lights hanging from the ceiling cast a harsh brightness. The floor is covered with grey carpet tiles.—the same as in thousands of other working offices across the country.

What sets it apart and brings character to the otherwise anonymous environment is the artwork. Colourful photographs line the walls — a bowl of strawberries, their red glossiness accentuated by the white porcelain; a perfect corn on the cob, rivulets of melted butter flowing around the kernels; a plate of steaming tagliatelle, the parmesan shavings falling gently onto the pasta. Then, as I move further towards the office, the photographs change to a series of images that I instantly recognise, La Boqueria, one of the food markets in Barcelona.

I pause for a moment in front of a picture of one of the stalls selling spices. Strings of different chillies cascade down from the metal frame of the stall. The vibrancy of that market was intoxicating, the noise, the colours, the aromas. I remember wandering from stall to stall snacking on fat, juicy olives, slices of spiced ham and wedges of refreshing melon, just soaking up that atmosphere.

My stomach automatically rumbles at the memory just as Jamie steps into the corridor.

He laughs at this unconventional greeting. “And good day tae ye too. Ye found us alright then?”

“No problem. Sat nav brought me straight here. It’s—“ I stop myself before I say any more, but, as usual, my glass face gives me away.

“C’mon. What is it? It’s no’ what ye were expecting, is it?”

“No— yes—no. It’s fine. It’s just, well, I was expecting something more, er, rural… rustic, you know.”

He sighs, but I can tell that he’s not offended. “What, ye mean like on a farm? Wi’ chickens running around? And tractors bringing the vegetables straight from the fields?”

I nod, feeling not a little bit foolish.

“And down a wee winding country lane, that yer lumbering great vans and lorries have tae drive along? Wi’ no easy transport links fer all the deliveries? And having tae deal wi’ all the food hygiene standards in some great old barn?” He laughs. “Trust me, it may no’ be photogenic but it’s the best place fer the business.”

He takes my arm. “Let’s go intae ma office and I’ll make ye a cup of coffee.”

My stomach rumbles once more. “Don’t suppose you’ve got any of those lovely Spanish biscuits too, have you?”

*********

The display of colourful photographs continues in Jamie’s office. I don’t recognise the scenes, but, I’m guessing these are more local— fields of corn bordered by old drystone walls, hedgerows bursting with dark jewel-like brambles. I pause at a picture of an ancient stone mill, the calm water of the mill pond reflecting the rundown building perfectly.

“That’s a bonny picture, is it no’?” Jamie’s voice is low in my ear.

I turn around. He is standing behind me, gazing intently at the picture.

“It is. Where is it? I’m guessing it’s somewhere here in Scotland.”

“Aye, it’s the old mill at Lallybroch.”

“Where you grew up?”

He nods. “Generations of ma family used that mill tae grind flour fer them and their tenants. It’s empty inside now. The wheel has long since rotted away. Jenny and I would escape there whenever chores were tae be done. She took the photo, weel, most of the photos here actually.”

I study the photograph more closely. “She’s very talented as a photographer. Is that her job?”

“She’d love tae have done that, but once she married Ian and the bairns started appearing, she hasna got the time. Mebbe one day.”

He moves past me towards his desk and I catch a hint of his musky cologne. I find myself comparing it to the slightly synthetic cologne that Frank always favoured. I decide that Jamie’s is preferable. It’s more real, somehow, earthy and, well, more masculine.

“... does that sound ok?”  

I realise that whilst I was considering male scents, Jamie had been asking me a question. “Er, sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”

“Am I really that boring tae ye?” He laughs. “I said I would make ye a coffee and invite Rupert tae come in and join us. He’s our Head of Product Development. Will ye no’ take a seat?”

I sit down on one of the chairs arranged around a circular meeting table and take a good look at the office while Jamie makes a phone call. The walls and ceiling are the same uninspiring white, livened up by all the photographs. There’s a couple of framed photographs near Jamie’s chair that seem to be more personal. I’m too far away to be able to see clearly, but they look like children... his nephew and niece perhaps?

Jamie’s ‘L’ shaped desk is made of grey wood, as is a tall bookcase and this meeting table. Simple, but clearly a considered purchase, no haphazard grouping of random furniture. The desk itself is remarkably free from clutter— just a laptop with two huge screens and a black leather document wallet. The contrast to the clutter on the desks in my office and home couldn’t be greater. Not that my clutter isn’t important to me—a collection of pots and dishes from my uncle’s archaeological digs plus a paperweight and letter opener that I remember, as a young child, at my parents’ house. Then I realise, looking at the family portraits surrounding Jamie’s desk, that he doesn’t need to gather mementoes from the past. He has a living, breathing close knit family creating memories all the time.

I’m well aware that most of my friends have more of a family than I have, or have ever had, and generally I’m fine with that. But every now and again it hits me right in the gut—this pang of...not loneliness, but more of being disconnected, rootless.

Before I can dwell on this,  there’s a faint tap at the door. It opens immediately and a woman stands in the doorway.  She’s easily past retirement age, quite short and… is sturdy a polite descriptor? Well, short and ‘motherly’ in appearance.

She’s very smiley too. Her eyes crinkle as she grins broadly before speaking. “Jamie, lad. I’ve come tae see if ye both want a coffee. I dinna mind making it. And mebbe a few biscuits?”

Jamie steps away from his desk. “Ah, Mrs. Fitz, how d’ye always ken what I want? Coffee would be grand. And fer ye Claire?”

“Coffee, please. Lovely. White, no sugar. Thanks.”

She looks at me for a moment before Jamie makes the introduction. “ Claire, this is Mrs Fitz. She’s worked wi’ me since I started and I dinna ken what I’d do wi’out her.”

He reaches across and pats her arm gently.

“Mrs. Fitz, this is Claire, a friend of mine. She’s been trying out our Spanish dinner party menu and has come tae meet wi’ Rupert tae give him her opinions.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fitz.” I hold out my hand.

She takes it in both of hers. “And it’s lovely tae meet ye too, Claire.”

She turns away and heads out the door.

“Right-oh. Two coffees it is then,” she says clearly, then carries on muttering under her breath as she leaves. “Friends, is it, then? A bonny lass, sure enough…”

Jamie smiles apologetically. “Mrs. Fitz can be a bit, weel...she’s been working with me a long time. She’s like a second mother tae me…”

He leaves the sentence unfinished, but I know what he’s thinking. Why can’t people understand that we’re friends, that’s all?

*******

Rupert is a complete delight, but somehow not what I was expecting. He rushes into the office just as Jamie and I are drinking our coffees. Nearly as tall as Jamie but quite a bit broader with a large beard, like an overgrown teddy bear, and clad in a sweatshirt and baggy ill-fitting jeans, he looks as if he would be more at home on a rugby pitch rather than in a development kitchen. With Jamie now standing next to him, the office suddenly feels rather small.

Jamie makes the introductions and we settle once more around the table. Rupert places his notebook and pen on the table.

“Ye dinna mind if I take a biscuit or two, do ye?” He asks, with a smile. He knows how tasty they are.

Jamie and I shake our heads and Rupert reaches out and takes two in his large, fleshy hand. He starts to eat, sprinkling crumbs all over his notebook.

“Ye canna take me anywhere,” he says as he tries to sweep the crumbs into his hand.

Jamie laughs and playfully punches Rupert’s shoulder. “Weel, ye can… but only the once, mind.”

There’s an easy camaraderie between the two of them. I’m guessing that Jamie has worked with the same people for quite a while. It’s good to see.

Rupert swallows, picks up a tissue and wipes the stray crumbs from his beard.  “Right-oh. So, Claire, thanks fer doing this—“

“No, I should be thanking you. It was a great meal.”

“Weel, glad tae hear that, but I would appreciate any improvements we could make. Is there anything we need tae change?”

I’ve been racking my brains all the way here, trying to think of something constructive to say rather than just reeling off a list of compliments, nice as that would be for Rupert and Jamie. And, honestly, I don’t know what more I can add. The food was excellent, the wine matched perfectly and the olives were a thoughtful addition.

I tell them all this and Rupert solemnly notes it all down. Sitting there, side by side, elbows almost touching, they look for all the world like two proud parents being complimented on their child’s talents. But they have every right to be proud.

“And nothing else?” Rupert persists. “Nothing we could do better?”

“Well, a couple of tiny suggestions. Maybe a few more pictures with the recipes would help. I’m not the most gifted cook.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jamie trying to suppress a smile. He’s never seen me in the kitchen, maybe he’s imagining me as some sort of culinary disaster area. I vow to prove him wrong at some point.

“And,” I continue as Rupert scribbles in his notebook. “Perhaps add a couple of suggestions to complete the Spanish night. I made sangria to start the evening. Could you add a recipe for that?”

Rupert closes his notebook with a flourish. “Right then. Thank ye sae much fer that. Glad yer friends all enjoyed the food.”

He stands up, shifting the table as he does so.

“Weel, bye then, Claire. Lovely tae meet ye. Hope tae see ye again.” He shoots a quick look across at Jamie before leaving.

“Rupert’s a lovely guy,” I comment as the door shuts behind him.

“Aye, he is that,” Jamie shifts in his seat. “Listen, I need tae ask ye a favour.”

“Another one,” I joke. “Wasn’t the dinner party enough?”

I add a sigh, purely for dramatic effect.

“Ye can say no if ye want tae,” he continues. “But I was wondering… weel... Ian, that’s Jenny’s husband, his rugby club is having a charity dinner dance a week on Saturday. Jenny’s bought two tickets fer me and a plus one. D’ye fancy it? It would help me out of a wee bit of bother with ma sister.”

Now I’m intrigued about his “wee bit of bother” with Jenny. I don’t want to end up in the middle of some sibling squabble.

“How so?” I’m not giving an answer straight away. At least not until I know what the bother is.

“Jenny bought the two tickets fer me a couple of months ago. I think she was assuming I would bring Laoghaire. But ye ken what happened there. Anyways, she asked me yesterday about it, and ever so casually suggested I might bring Kelly— that was ma date the other night.”

The pattern of Rupert’s crumbs on the table appears to suddenly be of great interest to him. He studies them intently as he talks, his ears turning slightly pink as he does so.

“And?” I prompt him.

“And, I told Jenny that after Laoghaire and I broke up, I didna want tae disappoint her about the dinner and so I’d already asked ye tae come along. As a friend,” he hastily adds the last part.

So, what do I decide? I do love the opportunity to have a bit of a dance and rugby club dos are usually a bit of a laugh, in my experience. And of course, I know Jamie is offering as a friend, so I’m not worried about that.

“Why don’t you want to ask Kelly then?” I want the full story before I give him my answer.

“She’s a nice enough lass but I didna think we had any spark. Plus she was trying too hard. Fer example she asked me what films I liked, then when I told her, she was all ‘no way, they’re ma favourites too’.”

He adds gestures at this point, to demonstrate Kelly’s actions, one hand flapping excitedly, the other resting on my sleeve, lightly stroking through the fabric of my shirt. It feels—

“Apparently we have exactly the same taste in films, music, food, drinks, television and holidays,” he continues as he sits back and folds his arms.

“Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.” I joke. I can still feel the sensation of his hand on my arm.

He looks up at me and frowns. “I’m no’ joking. Ye would be helping me if ye came as ma plus one.”

“Ok then. I do know that I’m not on call. I can come and be your wingman, if you like. Just one question. What are your favourite films?”

“Star Wars.”

This wasn’t the answer I was expecting. He doesn’t seem like a typical fan. Maybe he has a dark side that I haven’t yet seen, with a secret stash of Star Wars figures and multiple light sabres.

“I’ve never watched any of them.” It’s true. I seem to be in the minority but I just don’t get the appeal.

“And I can tell from yer face exactly what ye think of them. But they’re classics, weel most of them, anyway,” he starts to enthuse.

I shake my head. I can’t see that he will ever convince me.

“Well, Sassenach, have I got a treat in store for you!”

And, worryingly, it seems that he’s up for the challenge.

[hippievomitinhaler]

Farmhouse

The farmhouse is a vestigial limb that we can’t force ourselves to chop off. The dead pastures hold barren black dirt and mites instead of cows, and the untended lavender garden on the front yard has been overtaken with weeds. Planks of wood are discarded against the empty barn and all of the metal outside has rusted. The overgrown lemongrass scratches at my bare shins as I make my way to the eroding concrete steps.

The door feels fragile, the white paint on the plywood beginning to weather and crack. The house still smells like mothballs and old fabric. Everything is untouched from before my great grandmother went to the nursing home. The pots and pans are still in the kitchen, including the one that she used to make homemade custard in. Twin rooster salt shakers disrupt the thin layer of dust on the oak shelves,

I hear my grandmother fretting in the living room, “I’d rather keep all of this in the family,” she’s saying, “if we give it to a thrift store they might just throw it away, and who knows where it’ll end up.” I follow her voice, legs numb as I walk through the arched doorway to see her next to a TV that hasn’t worked for the last ten years. She trails behind my parents and older sister telling us to take home as much as we can. Dark circles swell underneath her delicate brown eyes.

I loved this room when I was a little girl. My favorite part was the orphanage of dolls in the display case. I loved their soft curls and petticoats, their glass eyes and rose painted lips. They’re grungy now, accumulating freckles of black mold over their fragile marzipan skin. The ones that can’t fit behind glass have grown dirty in forgotten bins containing old army patches stripped from my great grandfather’s jacket, work shirts from the local brewery, and swaths of fabric so old they melt apart like tender meat when you touch them. Two half-melted oil candles are mounted with steel and glass onto the wall on either side of the door leading to the hallway.

Cheap mock-Victorian portraits from the flea market line the hallway alongside grandiose gold mirrors. I drift through the floorplan down to the basement, where pickled green beans have been preserved in vinegar for the last thirty years. My grandmother points out the small red wheelbarrow she used to tote her younger brother around in.

The years are loaded into damp cardboard boxes from the basement. Mothbitten clothing, expired scented lotion, broken strings of pearls from her jewelry case. My combat boots rub blisters on my feet as I carry her belongings up the unfinished staircase.

It’s a weird feeling, being somewhere for the last time. We would never again eat custard from my great grandmother’s burnt-bottom pan, or listen to green beans sizzling in pig grease from the yellow suede couch. Selling the farm feels like we’re burying my great grandmother before she’s dead. I think about all of her prized possessions in a landfill, where everything she worked so hard will return to dirt.

While my parents say goodbye to my grandmother in the kitchen, I gingerly pull one of the dolls from the glass case in the living room, using spit and the pad of my thumb to scrub the speckled dirt off her cheeks. I cradle her in my arms down the concrete steps, sliding into the backseat of our worn family car. Gravel crunches underneath the tires, pale shards embedding deep into the dark rubber as we lurch down the driveway. I pinch her curled polymer hand between my thumb and forefinger as I watch the farmhouse shrink to a speck of dust behind us, hidden behind by the congelation of thick-branched yellow poplar trees.

[kehwry]

I had to get in on the Cow Tipping Story

After seeing a screenshot of Phoenix talking about his cow tipping days - I had to write how it could have happened!

This gave me the idea to write a series of small ‘crimes’ that the Ace Attorney characters could possibly commit 🙃

I’ll cross post to AO3 but for now - we’ve got cow tipping under the cut! :D

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“Come on, dude! It’s supposed to be a lot of fun!”

“Ugh. I don’t know – doesn’t it smell kind of weird on that part of town?”

“Be a bro, dude!”

Larry and Phoenix were walking home after a long day. Larry was working at a local coffee shop near the university that Phoenix was attending and had made a habit out of following him home. Phoenix had just recently changed his major from Art to Law. While he didn’t have the time to get up to his friend’s adventures on Friday nights anymore, he still appreciated the company on the walk home.

“Come on, man! You’ll have a great time! It’s supposed to be hilarious and exhilarating! Plus, it’s not illegal – since I know you care about that sort of thing now!” Larry nudged his friend in the ribs.

Phoenix sighed, but his friend was relentless.

“Please Nicky! You’ve gotta get out and do something or you’re gonna go crazy! You can’t just mope and study all the time.” Larry pressed.

Phoenix furrowed his brow. “I don’t just mope and study.”

Larry scoffed. “Yeah, okay. Prove it. Come cow-tipping with me tonight.”

Phoenix mentally weighed his options. He had planned on cramming for Monday’s test on Statute Laws and then finally putting all his newspaper clippings into a proper scrapbook. Not exactly a crazy college night, he supposed.

“Alright, fine. Where are we meeting?” he asked, reluctantly.

Larry instantly lit up and pumped his fist in the air. “Yeah! Now that’s what I’m talking about! We’re meeting at the old farm just outside the city. Be there around ten, okay?”

They had finally reached Phoenix’s apartment and Larry usually just continued ahead. Phoenix paused before nodding in agreement. Larry clapped him on the back and ran off.  

“Remember! Ten o’clock!” he shouted from up the road.

Phoenix rolled his eyes and waved his friend off. “Yeah, yeah.”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dare E Farm and Ranch

Friday Night

10:05 pm

 Phoenix walked up the road towards the edge of town. Asphalt eventually turned into a coarse dirt road as he approached the hill near the farm. He stood around looking at the dense trees and scrub bushes that ran the perimeter of the ranch. He had to admit, the stars were much easier to see once away from the city lights. However, the overpowering smell of grass and livestock overwhelmed any positive emotions he could have had about the place. He covered his nose and made a mental note to not breathe too deeply.

Phoenix glanced around in the dark and didn’t see any sign of his friend. Starting to feel out of place, he turned to walk back towards the city.

“Dude! Over here!”

Larry called out to him, frantically waving. He was standing under a large oak tree and had evidently brought a girl with him. Phoenix rolled his eyes and jogged over to his friend.

“Man, I am so glad you actually came! This is gonna be so good!” Larry exclaimed.

Phoenix raised an eyebrow at him and glanced at the girl that was standing next to him. She didn’t seem like the type of girl Larry would typically chase after. She had wild, poofy red hair, a green sweater and tan boots. She was standing with her hands on her hips and a huge grin.

“Well don’t just stand there and gawk! I’m Lotta!” she stuck her hand out. She had a Southern drawl and seemed to almost shout everything she said. Phoenix felt drained just listening to her.

Phoenix shook it, hesitantly. “Nice to meet you, I suppose.”

She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Huh. Well you’re awful charming.” She turned towards Larry. “Alright Harry Butz! He’s here now! You ready to do this thing?”

Larry whined and slumped. “It’s Larry. Larry Butz – but yeah! Ready, Nicky?” He clapped his friend on the back. Phoenix nodded, slightly annoyed, and brushed his friends’ hand away.

Larry was radiating excitement. “Lotta here says she used to do this all the time back home! It’s supposed to be insanely funny!”

Lotta snorted. “Yeah! I’ve never actually gotten to do it myself. But I’ve heard some pretty good stories about it!” Then she turned and started off into the woods.

Phoenix glanced at Larry, who shrugged in response as they followed her up the hill overlooking the farm. They could see a crowd of cows scattered across the grass. Some were laying down and others were standing, eating grass. They seemed oblivious to the utter chaos that was about to ensue.

“Okay,” Lotta lowered her voice “So apparently, we’re supposed to get ‘em while they’re sleepin’. When they sleep standing up, they’re supposed to be super easy to knock over. It’s gonna be a hoot – promise!”

Phoenix seemed unsure and glanced at his friend. Larry had his chin in his hand and was nodding along with Lotta’s instructions.

“So, we just…push them over?” Phoenix asked, uncertain. “Aren’t they, you know, kind of heavy?”

“Yeah, stupid! That’s why there’s three of us!” Lotta chided.

“Isn’t this going to hurt the cows…?” Phoenix hesitated, clearly worried.

“Will you stop yammering and come on?” Lotta hissed.

“Yeah! No time like the present! Let’s do this!” Larry cheered and ran down the hill. Lotta chased after him, leaving Phoenix behind.

He got up and dusted himself off. He had to admit, this seemed like a ridiculous idea, but he was already here.

‘Might as well see where it goes.’ he thought has he joined them at the bottom of the hill.

The three of them climbed over the metal fence gate with ease. Once they were in the pasture, few cows paid them any mind. Larry crept up to one and waved a hand in front of the cows’ face. The cow seemed unphased.

“Yo! Guys! This one’s half baked! He doesn’t even care!” Larry shouted.

“Yeah buddy!” Lotta cheered back “Come on!”

Lotta ran up to Larry and placed both of her hands on the side of the cow. Larry and Phoenix lined themselves up next to her and mirrored her hand placement.

“One…” Larry and Lotta began to count down in unison.

“Two…”

“THREE!” they all shouted and pushed the cow.

…

“Moo?”

The cow loudly mooed but nothing happened.

In fact, the cow didn’t seem to budge at all.

They dropped their hands from the cow and sighed exasperatedly.

“Well what the heck? He didn’t even move!” Lotta exclaimed.

“I know! Maybe he’s too awake?” Larry pondered.

Phoenix didn’t say a word. He hadn’t known what to expect tonight, but he really thought the cow would have moved back a little at least. Or be more annoyed. Secretly, he was silently thankful – a cow related accident would be pretty embarrassing to explain.

The cow continued to chew grass and walked a few feet forward, completely unbothered by the trio.

“Okay, okay. This time, I’ll pick the cow.” Lotta declared as she strut off towards another cow several yards away.

Phoenix and Larry followed behind her, checking to see if any other cows were awake or bothered by the strangers in their pasture.

“Aha!” Lotta shouted “Over here!”

The cow she was stood next to wasn’t chewing anything. It was staring off towards the woods that surrounded the property. It didn’t flinch or even move when Lotta had cried out.

Larry crept closer to the cow and resumed the same position as before.

“Okay guys – this time, let’s put our backs into it, yeah?” Larry whispered.

Lotta and Phoenix nodded in agreement and took up their places next to Larry.

“One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

“Moooooo”

Again, they all pushed, and the cow didn’t budge.

“Come on…. you stupid…Cow!!” Larry grunted as he pressed his shoulder and most of his body into the cow. Lotta and Phoenix dug their heels into the ground and pushed with all they had.

“MOOOOOOOOORRRRRRR”

Without further warning, the cow trotted off angrily, sending the trio onto the ground with a thud.

After standing and dusting themselves off, they regrouped in shared frustration.

“Fellas, I’m starting to think that cow tipping’s a load of bull” Lotta huffed, annoyed.

Phoenix and Larry looked at each other and instantly burst into laughter.

“Ha! A load of bull!! ‘Cause they’re cows!” Larry wheezed, doubling over in laughter.

Lotta cracked a wide smile and chuckled. “Well, I reckon we’ve probably woken up any remaining sleeping cows. Wanna head out of here?”

Both guys nodded and followed Lotta back to the gate. Once they climbed over it again, they started back up the hill and started their trek back to the city.

“Hey – y’all don’t mind if we embellish this story a little bit, right?” Lotta asked, breaking the silence.

“Embellish how?” Phoenix asked. “We should probably get our story straight.”

“Why don’t we just tell people that it was super fun and that the cows mooed when we pushed them over, then we got chased out by the farmer and ran home?” Larry offered.

“Sounds good to me!” Lotta shrugged in agreement.

Phoenix sighed. It wasn’t any worse than what had actually happened. In fact, it was probably better that his Friday night story would be more entertaining this way.

Just then, a car pulled up behind them and shined bright headlights onto the trio. A brief ‘whoooop’ of a siren stopped the three in their tracks.

The dirt road crumbled underneath the sound of the car stopping. The trio stood, frozen and terrified. They watched as a sheriff in a tan uniform shirt and green slacks got out of the car and walked up to them.

“Evening, kiddos.” He said gruffly. His voice was deep and booming.

“E-evening, sir” they all clamored nervously.

“Y’all wanna tell me why I got a call about a couple of teenagers playing in a field that don’t belong to ‘em?” he said, crossing his arms, clearly sizing the group up.

Phoenix felt the color drain out of his face and his heart raced. He could see all the charges now and his mind reeled.

Trespassing

Damage or attempted murder of privately owned livestock

Misdemeanor animal abuse – or was it a felony? How much did a cow cost anyway?

Phoenix swallowed thickly. He couldn’t go to jail now! He had so many things he needed to accomplish as a lawyer!

Lotta was the first to speak.

“Sorry, sir” she said quietly. Her head was lowered, and she was staring at her shoes. This was the most respectful she had been all night, much to Phoenix’s surprise. Then she continued talking.

“We just hadta find out for ourselves!” She shouted, causing Phoenix and Larry to jump at her sudden outburst.

The sheriff grunted. “Don’t tell me you city slickers were trying your hand at cow tipping?” he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Sure as the stars at night sir! Don’t believe a word that anyone tells ya! It ain’t real! Those cows don’t go nowhere!” The fire in Lotta’s eyes had been ignited as she shook a fist at the sheriff.  

The sheriff sighed again and rubbed his face. It was a long moment before he spoke again. Larry and Phoenix shot each other worried glances and stayed completely silent and still.

“Alright. Alright look.” The sheriff said after a long while. “It’s been a long day and I just don’t feel like messing around here. Stay out of fields that don’t belong to you, don’t go messing with cows that aren’t yours and go straight home, you got it?”

“YES SIR!” The trio exclaimed in unison.

“Alright. Now get outta here.” The sheriff returned to his car, leaving the three attempted cow tippers in the dust.

As they watched the taillights on his cruiser disappear down the road, relief washed over them.

“Holy crap!! Can you believe that!! We could have gone to jail! Nicky!! You couldn’t think of any law stuff to get us out of that?!” Larry babbled loudly.

“Dude, you know I’m not a lawyer yet! And he let us off the hook! Let’s just go home like he said to.” Phoenix said, bitterly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and focused on the ground. His heart was just beginning to slow down and the knot in his stomach was dissipating.

“Yeah, let’s maybe leave this part out when we tell people about this.” Lotta said quietly.

“Agreed.”

The trio walked back to the city without further incident and vowed to not mention their failed exploits that night in great detail when they parted.

Once home, Phoenix sighed loudly. This time – when something smelled, it was cows and the Butz.

[theaurorfileshq]

– The Boy in the Painting 

CASE LEVEL: One

POINTS REQUIRED: Seventy-Five

OVERVIEW:

Within the town of Santa Rita, Guam lives an elderly witch by the name of  Rosalinda Sandoval. Rosalinda is well known in the Guam wixen community as a friendly elderly woman, who most would probably describe as a bit of an eccentric, but all would say is a welcome and rather friendly woman. Rosalinda can often be found on the island, zooming around on her moped, which almost always has a cart attached to it filled with various yard sale and dumpster treasures she’s found that day. It was one of these very treasures of Rosalinda’s that’s recently caught the attention of the local auror division. 

Last Sunday, Rosalinda arrived home to comb through her finds for the day, when she discovered something odd about a painting she’d bought at a flea market earlier that morning. The painting was a lovely landscape scene of a quiet pond, on a quiet farm, with one lone brown cow grazing nearby that only cost her three dollars and fifty cents. However, when Rosalinda went to hang the painting up in her living room among the plethora of others that littered her walls, she was astonished to find a small boy had suddenly appeared in the picture. At first the old woman thought she’d somehow overlooked the child when she first purchased the painting, and thus hung the piece of artwork and chuckled to herself as she shuffled away to make herself a cup of tea. 

When Rosalinda returned from her small excursion to the kitchen though, she was once again shocked to see her new painting had changed again, this time the child had moved- but even more shocking was that a brief message had been spelled out in the flecks of green painted grass with small brown painted stones. The message read “Help Me” and the boy stood motionless beside it, looking out to any onlooker who viewed the painting. Concerned for the small painted boy’s safety, Rosalinda quickly took the painting to the local auror division, to report the child in distress. Initially the auror’s waved off Rosalinda’s claims, figuring the woman hadn’t seen the message before, but then the message changed once more, this time in front of their very eyes. The second message would read “I am Alberto Blas”. This message would cause local aurors to immediately contact Chief Lin from the MACUSA squad, as Alberto Blas had been a well known missing child- who’d vanished from the island thirteen years prior. Whether the boy in the painting is truly Alberto is still a mystery, but the local aurors are hoping they can solve it with the help of the Pacific Squad.  

PERSONS OF INTEREST:

Rosalinda Sandoval: The elderly witch who purchased the painting. Rosalinda’s memory of the person she bought the painting from is quite vague, and unfortunately she can’t quite remember just which booth at the town’s flea market she bought it from. According to her though, the attendant at the booth was most definitely someone she’d never seen at the market before, and was selling a whole matter of strange and peculiar items. 

Sergeant Manu Chaves: The auror who witnessed the painting’s message change. According to Sergeant Chaves, the boy never moved at all when the message changed, more like the first messaged simply faded and was replaced by another. Sergeant Chaves has kept the painting hanging up in one of the division’s conference rooms, and has been routinely checking on the painting for any new additional developments, but nothing about it has changed since the second message appeared. 

Nestor and Paola Blas: Alberto Blas’s parents. Nestor and Paola have been searching for their son for the last thirteen years. According to the two, Alberto had been playing in the backyard with the family dog when he disappeared. Nester and Paola have been brought into the division to see if they recognize the painting at all, or the boy in it. When both viewed the painting, the two did indeed say the boy in the painting was wearing the same clothes Alberto did the day he disappeared. Paola has grown hopeful that the boy in the painting is her son, while Nestor is more pessimistic, believing that whoever took their son is responsible for the painting and the painted imitation of his son within it.  

CHIEFS’ NOTES:

Portraits moving and talking isn’t anything unheard of in our world, but this all seems very different compared to a simple charmed portrait. Whatever is going on here, it has to be tied to the Alberto Blas case. Head out to Guam as soon as you can, and hopefully we’ll finally be able to figure out just what happened to this poor child. 

- Chief Lin

The fact that the boy’s clothes match seems significant, but it could also very well be the case that some asshole who read an article about this kid, decided this would be a fun way to get their rocks off. Look, I’m really hoping this is our kid, but you gotta be careful making too many assumptions here, especially when you have two parents who will be desperate to know if you think this is their kid or not. Hope is a dangerous thing to spread here, be cautious with it, the last thing we want to do is make these folks needlessly grieve twice. 

- Deputy Chief Harbird

CASE STATUS: TAKEN

| RPG HOME | PLOT | WANTED CONNECTIONS | OPEN CASES |

[eyeheartsheep]

“I don’t want to be vegan, but want to prevent animal cruelty”

Alrighty. I’m not here to pass judgment. There’s tons of reasons to eat meat or animal products. I’m just here to help non-vegans be nicer to animals and the environment. Here’s some solid tips:

Hunt. Yeah, you heard me. Get a hunting licence, get out there, and kill your own meat. Hunting licenses were created to prevent over hunting, and in fact, hunting can HELP overpopulation of one animal in an environment, especially invasive ones. I’ll stand by hunting being one of the most, if not the most, ethical way to eat meat. (Also you’ll naturally eat less meat and appreciate it more)

Eat local. I’m not talking buying stuff in Wal*Mart with “local” on the front. Actually go to a farm or market. Talk to farmers. Find out who’s ethical. Buy from small, family run farms. You’d be surprised how affordable it can be, if you’re a bit careful to only buy what you need.

Cut out red meat, especially cow and pig. Besides being very social, loving, and intelligent animals on par with dogs, cows and pigs require A LOT of land for pasture and food. Chicken is far better for the environment. (Still treated like shit on farms but hey. It’s a start.)

Keep your own animals. It’s not very expensive to keep 2-6 chickens ethically on your own time. They’ll eat damn near anything, keep insects out of the yard, and usually give you an average of one egg each every morning. Cows are pretty hard, but goats aren’t too bad. I’d say about the same level of cash/time/attention investment as a dog. At least in my experience. Their milk is yummy too, super rich.

Try food “replacements”. You know, almond milk, tofu, beans, that kind of thing. These things NEVER “replace” the food in question. Almond milk tastes NOTHING like milk. But you know? It’s close enough to help you limit your intake. You might find something you like MORE than the alternative, so try it out.

Research the “ethical” brands in stores. You’d be surprised how TERRIBLE some “free range” or “ethical” meats and products are for the environment and animals. And, way too often, these brands are owned by the SAME ASSHOLES MAKING THE FACTORY FARM RIB-EYE IN THE NEXT AISLE 

Try entrees that don’t feature meat. I know, I know; I grew up in rural America too. Entrees just don’t FEEL like dinner without the meat next to the veggies and potatoes. But, if you have a family of four, that’s 28 servings of meat a week! Try going with meat-less dishes every weekend to start.

Listen to vegans. Yeah, we’re a bit of a meme. Kinda for good reason too. Militant vegans are a huge embarrassment. But most aren’t that way, and even the ones that are, our logic comes from facts, here. At least, I think so. Listen. Roll your eyes if Peta is making a fool of themselves again, but evaluate things on a statement by statement basis. Just... listen.

[the-deeds-to-shibden]

Monday 19th August 1839

[Ann has chocolate for breakfast, and then a leisurely stroll through the woods picking cranberries with her wife. Later she counts the steps to the top of the Ӧrebrö church tower, because Anne is not always the only nerd in that marriage. Some padlocks are stolen, but it does not seem to be such a big deal, and Anne samples the local hooch.]

[up at] 4 1/4

[to bed at] 9 50/”

Off from Hasslerör at 5 1/4 a.m. fair but dull morning Fahrenheit 61º at 4 1/2 a.m. 2 good little beds in 1 room and had one other room – comfortable clean house –  2 or 3 cottages close by – the village if there be more is scattered at some distance little hamlets or groups of unpainted huts scattered up and down – wide open plain i.e. granite-bouldered juniper and heather and bracken and cranberry-covered moor or pine forest with here and there birches and alders, except near the villages or hamlets or farms where patches of ground are cleared and under cultivation – sandy road but good – drier this morning and not heavy here – Enter forest at 5 1/2 (and now more spruce than ever before since Götheborg) which continues with greater or less breaks – but I have slept the greater part of the way, merely looking up now and then, till 7 20/”  when the horses not getting on told William to whip up – then to try stopping to let them take breath – then Ann and I got out at 7 40/”  and walked 10 minutes – enjoyed it – fine morning but we shall have rain during the day? – at last, at 7 55/” Hofva nice little red- painted village – good little white washed church – better looking (red) station house than last night – might sleep here very well – by and by forest again – more spruce – there now seems as much spruce as Scotch fir – at 8 3/4 Ann and I breakfast – she our Jaca chocolate and bread and 2 biscuits and I the last of Tod’s rice cake –  Luxuriant hops in flower – (3 or 4 plants) at 9 3/4 in little cottage garden close under the forest – Do the hops do so well here and sometimes fail in Kent because there they are too crowded – like not to grow too much among the multitude of their own species? –  

a patch of corn here in the forest, smothered with a sort of tall dandelion now in full flower overtopping the corn by much – at 9 55/” a man ploughing with 2 little oxen or cows little short plough –  first we have seen in Sweden – at 10 to 10 1/4 Ann and I walked up the hill in the forest – the cranberries taste tartish rather sour – at 10 1/2 put drag on for a few minutes – hard to get it off – I got on to the box with William and helped him to pull back the horses – no mouths – difficult to make them back to do any good – very fine and sunny more clear blue sky today than we have ever seen since we first landed – at 10 50/” picturesque little scattered village on pine-surrounded pretty little islandy lake, and our Station house at Boderna the handsomest looking station house we have yet stopped at – 2 stories high – red – 15 good double windows in front besides one 1/2 window on each side the door – Capital place to sleep at? good Inn and post office too – off at 11 2/” – nice foresty drive from the last stage to here as apparently it will be forwards – singular little dark red wooden church very neat near on our right but standing by itself – apart from houses – nice foresty drive – at 1 corn housed (left) – land sandy – road ditto but good – land seems rather better hereabouts and all today than yesterday – have passed 2 or 3 better houses during this morning – birch poplar and elder the prevailing wood next to fir – a few willows and ashes and mountain ditto near towns here and there – very few oaks – no beeches, not one since Götheborg – widish expanse of clear ground everywhere in the distance surrounded by pine forest and at Vrestorp at 1 10/” pretty situated on pretty wooded lake – at 2 10/” another lake but very small (left) –  nice open drive from Vrestorp – at 3 16/” at Blackstad neat little red village but the station house does not look so like a good sleeping place – Had to pay for the horses waiting therefore would not give the boy anything –  a little beyond the station the very pretty picturesque regular one-street red village of Blackstad with neat palisaded bits of ground (gardens) in front – handsome new done-up white church with Doric 2 columned portico or porch at the entrance door towards the road – the best looking church and the prettiest neatest village we have seen – road (left) to somewhere, opposite the church – and one road passes into a forest 200 or 300 yards beyond the church, tho’ extensive open country on our right – at 3 55/” just out of the bit of forest, fine look down from the top of the rising ground on very extensive plain bounded in the great distance by a circle of dark pine-covered hill –  with forests scattered over the champagne – the most extensive view we have as yet had in Sweden – Blackstad a remarkably pretty little village – at 4 5/”  fir-forest left, pretty wood-surrounded lake (right) –  now at 4 40/” fine and sunny – our west (my left hand) blind down – in pine forest – good road – huts (little cottages) here and there – more population – hamlets etc. etc. today than yesterday – I have this moment (4 40/”) finished inking over Monday 5th instant (Return from Bolkesoe) – 

enter Ӧrebrö at 5 1/4 one long good street – pass thro’ grand place in which stands the church and then immediately at the Inn (the Station) at 5 25/” Dirty looking house but got a good room – then out – at the top of the church at 6 to 6 1/2 – 43 stone steps (+13 outside up to the door) and 11 ladders – Ann says 178 steps altogether – so the bottom ones foot rises – fine extensive view – could only see a dozen church steeples even taking in the remotest distance – nice lake to the East, short distance from the town communicating with it by a little river which supplies the moat of the large white washed oblong castle having at each of the 3 corners we could see a 1/2 high (castle 4 stories tower 2, and basement) large round tower – much interested with our view of the nice neat good town –  dinner at 7 5/” – good veal cutlets and fritters sized pancakes –      Ӧrebrö private bank – Changed a ten dollar bill before dinner in shop next door – Had Grotza – then till 9 25/” counting over money –  our Christiania padlock stolen today in the forbud cart as also Gross’s own padlock in the cart today –  very fine day Fahrenheit 61 1/2º, at 10 1/2 p.m.

Ӧrebrö church stone body and brick tower roofed with shingle and copper sheeting underneath? or is the bit of new roof 2 men were covering with copper sheeting to remain without shingle?

Anne’s marginal notes:

general scenery

Hops.

Plough

first time weeds

pay for waiting 5 horses at 8 skillings per horse per hour.

Blackstad

most extensive view.

some of the houses and many of the outbuildings roofs covered with sods – spouts caulked with birch bark.

Ӧrebrö 1 long good street and grande place and several lateral streets

Finkel tasted it at dinner tastes strong and of aniseed

WYAS Catalogue:  SH:7/ML/TR/12/0031     SH:7/ML/TR/12/0032

Ӧrebrö Castle (drawing by Thora Tersner, 1846):

Church of St. Nicholas,  Ӧrebrö, which Anne and Ann climbed the 178 stairs to the top of (drawing by Carl Svante Hallbeck, 1870s):

[alecodys]

Camp TV Biographies

This is a very, very, very long post!! There’s literally every Season One character in here and Tumblr tried to get me to cut it in half multiple times but like. lol no. Anyways, everything is under the cut!

Beth What’s your best quality? My detective skills! I have solved many small cases back on my farm at home, the largest of which being who was responsible for the grain going missing. Turns out it was just a rat.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

My parents only have music from the 60’s, so that’s the only music I know.

I love pink! Especially more reddish ones.

What’s that one with a talking pig called? It reminds me so much of my own pig, Bertha!

My mum makes the best food ever, especially when it comes to pies.

Describe your craziest dream. I was a real detective, just like Sherlock Holmes! It was so cool, and I got to solve a murder, and I had a sidekick and everything!

Best memory from childhood? The day I got Bertha. She’s like a little sister to me.

Most embarrassing moment at school? One time I’d forgotten which shirt I had gotten dirty and I was in a rush, so I went to school in a muddy shirt with pig hoof-prints on it.

Describe the first job you ever had. I work on the farm as much as I can, in between school and detective work!

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll have moved to England, and become the best detective in all of Scotland Yard!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but it would be less of a date, and more like me interviewing him and asking him what goes on in the mind of a detective as great as Sherlock.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Find out what caused it!

Bridgette What’s your best quality? My patience for others!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

I’m not all that into music, but I do listen to recordings of the ocean like, all the time.

Definitely ocean blue.

I’m super into mermaid movies.

Anything that’s vegan, but especially seaweed brownies.

Describe your craziest dream. It’s not really crazy per say, but I was a dolphin and I got to hang out with this clownfish, and we were totally the best of friends. It was really cool, actually.

Best memory from childhood? My first time going boogie-boarding. It what made me fall in love with the water, you know?

Most embarrassing moment at school? We went out to the beach for camp one year and we got to go surfing, and I totally wiped out on one of the waves in front of everyone! It was terrible.

Describe the first job you ever had. I’m a lifeguard at the community pool after school! It’s not exactly glamorous, but hey, it’s pretty fun sometimes.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Living back in Fiji with a nice girl, in a house by the beach and helping out Mother Earth.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? I can’t really think of someone off the top of my head, but we’d totally go surfing.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Make the most of it.

Cody What’s your best quality? Hm... my creativity, I guess? It helps for getting out of tough situations sometimes.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

There’s this musician, uh.. Neil Cicierega! I like his songs, but the Samsung ringtone is pretty good too.

I like pale oranges and blues!

I don’t really watch movies all that often, but uh.. don’t tell anyone I told you this, but I really like kid films, especially LEGO ones. Weird, I know.

I’m a sucker for anything with sugar! Although, it tends to make me super sick.

Describe your craziest dream. I was actually popular. I was so freaked out I woke up before anything could happen.

Best memory from childhood? Whenever I got to go to my aunt’s house! She has, like, the greatest German Shepard ever!

Most embarrassing moment at school? Literally the entirety of grade eight. God, I used to insist on being called stuff like “Codester” and “Codemeister”. Ugh.

Describe the first job you ever had. I got to dog-sit my aunt’s dog when I was 12 and she paid me ten bucks.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Hopefully going out with the person of my dreams, but if not then probably just chilling at home, eating ice cream, wondering where I went wrong.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Okay so like, there’s this really cute guy at my school, so probably him, and we’d just go to the carnival, eat cotton candy and go on rides, and after it’s all over we’d watch the sunset and it’d be super cute. I’ve put more thought into this than I should have.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Cry over it.

DJ What’s your best quality? How kind I am, and it’s all thanks to my mommas!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Jamaican Reggae.

Lavender.

Anything with tons of animals!

My Mama’s chickpea Roti, although that may be tied with Ma’s cherry tarts... don’t tell her though.

Describe your craziest dream. I dreamt one time I was a cameraman for this reality TV show that took place in an abandoned film studio, and that I wasn’t paid a cent.

Best memory from childhood? Definitely the day my mommas adopted me. The orphanage was alright, but my mommas just give something that it could never, aside from stability.

Most embarrassing moment at school? The first day of school here in Canada, I only had shirts and shorts. I was freezing all day! I haven’t gone outside without a jacket or two on since.

Describe the first job you ever had. It’s not really a job, but Ma pays me a couple of dollars during summer to pick all the cherries from the cherry trees. They ripen late since it’s so cold here, but they’re absolutely beautiful.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’m in my house with my mommas, with a bunch of animals I adopted from the local animal shelter, eating chickpea Roti and cherry tarts.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? I don’t really date. I just don’t see anyone that way, y’know? But I’d love to go around Central Park with my mommas in a horse and carriage!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Hang out with my mommas.

Duncan What’s your best quality? My ability to break out of juvie.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Punk rock.

Neon green.

Any slasher film, really.

Το σουβλάκι του παππού, not that hard of a question.

Describe your craziest dream. I was a four year old trying to scare the shit out of this girl with pigtails, but I got tethered to some kid with a gap in his teeth. We ended up scaring everyone as a mummy. It was kinda funny.

Best memory from childhood? When I snuck my younger cousin into an R rated film with my older sister. My sister was thirteen, I was ten, and my cousin was four. I’m surprised we managed to pull off that dumb trench coat trick.

Most embarrassing moment at school? I used to get embarrassed when my sister would pick me up in her smart car. I kind of miss it now, though.

Describe the first job you ever had. Job? Ha! Yeah, right.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll probably be hanging around the town my cousin lives in, maybe score a couple of gigs in some punk band I’ve started to rival that garage band that plays over there.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Depends if anyone could take me. Or look past my criminal record.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? ...Visit my sister.

Ezekiel What’s your best quality? My ability to list my best quality in eight different languages, eh!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Choir music! It’s the only music I know!

Forest green.

I’m not allowed to watch movies...

My mum and I work together to make the greatest biscuits ever, eh!

Describe your craziest dream. I was like a king of these mutated woodland creatures, eh. But I was all green and was wearing these really strange clothes, and I had no hair.

Best memory from childhood? My childhood wasn’t really all that eventful. I just stay inside all the time, eh.

Most embarrassing moment at school? When my teachers caught me trying to leave the house to go to a local school. They weren’t very happy with me, eh. I got grounded for five weeks.

Describe the first job you ever had. I don’t have a real job, since I’m always at home and my parents won’t let me outside.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’m at the farm, sitting on the porch and looking out over the fields. Pretty much what I do whenever school ends anyways.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? A girl like me, eh. We can talk about living on our farms and not being able to interact with other kids until we graduated school, and bond over archery.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Say goodbye to the cows.

Geoff What’s your best quality? I can party all night and all day, man! Also my hair is really soft apparently.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Party in the USA is my favourite song, dude! It’s, like, my anthem!

Bright pink! I may get weird looks for it sometimes, but I think it’s an awesome colour!

Literally any movie where parties are involved, dude.

Party pies! It’s the name, my man!

Describe your craziest dream. One time I dreamt that I threw the biggest party in Canadian history, and it was so big that like, even the news reported on it dude! But then the cops came and we had to shut it down. It was a massive bummer.

Best memory from childhood? My first birthday party ever! I was three and I invited all my friends from kinder, and we got to hit this disco ball shaped piñata and eat this giant cake! I’m still proud of it.

Most embarrassing moment at school? When I went to school with a blue shirt on instead of a pink one. I have a brand to uphold, man.

Describe the first job you ever had. Some kid at school tried to pay me five bucks to prank his bully and record it. I told him to keep the money and I did it anyways, because bullying isn’t cool, dude.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Hosting a wicked party!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? I don’t really know who I’d go on a date with, but we’d totally be having an awesome party out on the beach!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Party hard!

Gwen What’s your best quality? My complete and utter lack of enthusiasm.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

I like early 2000’s emo music, I guess.

Dark red.

Bloodbath 2: Summer Camp Reign of Terror. If this camp isn’t like the movie then I’m not going to be very happy.

Those teeth gummies, the minty ones.

Describe your craziest dream. I dreamt I was having a good time being interviewed for some dumb summer camp my parents forced me to go to. Can you imagine?

Best memory from childhood? When my little brother learned to ride his bike. It makes it easier to get away from him now.

Most embarrassing moment at school? I spilled blue food colouring over my clothes in science class one time and had to walk around with that stain in my shirt for the rest of the day. It doesn’t sound bad, but it kinda looked like I’d drooled all over myself.

Describe the first job you ever had. I cut my brother’s hair for five bucks from my mum one time. Of course, she didn’t give me any clear instructions, and I was six, so I absolutely destroyed his hair.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll probably have some dumb degree, I don’t know. Probably just have a job and hanging out with somebody who I live with and love.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? It’s not a date really, but I’d love to time travel and meet Van Gogh. Unlike most artists, he was actually a really cool dude, and really tragic too. I’d like to meet Branwell Brontë too, but his whole family is cool.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Watch the last sunset.

Harold What’s your best quality? My high tolerance for those who are intellectually and behaviourally inferior to me. But my mum tells me not to say that so I guess it’s how good I am at building fantasy worlds.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Nothing beats the Pokemon Red soundtrack.

Mossy green.

The Lord of the Rings trilogy, duh!

Beef stew, but especially the stew they serve at Medieval Steve’s Medieval Camp.

Describe your craziest dream. They named the Lord of the Rings something really dumb like Master of the Spheres.

Best memory from childhood? My first time going to a summer camp was pretty good. It was MSMC, but for “junior” kids, which basically meant people under the age of six.

Most embarrassing moment at school? Getting a fact about medieval history wrong in history class.

Describe the first job you ever had. I got paid by one of the kids at MSMC to beat the head troll in chocolate coins.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? A famous, bestselling author of a hit fantasy series that has been adapted masterfully into film.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? One of the elves, I guess, but mainly so they could teach me about their culture and their language so I could one day join and become one of them.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Try and stop it.

Heather What’s your best quality? I don’t really have that many good qualities, but people say they like how nice I am, so that counts for something, right?

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Lo-fi

Any shade of red!

I liked that one Pokemon movie with the... ah, yes! Shaymin!

I love mochi! It’s so yummy...

Describe your craziest dream. I dreamt I was, like, super tall! It was really cool beans, until everyone began calling me mean things and they were talking about something I did to this girl named Gwen? I don’t even know any girls named Gwen!

Best memory from childhood? The first Christmas I remember! My parents got me this super cute tricycle and it was red with little blue streamers on the handlebars, and I rode it around everywhere! Or maybe when we rescued Cupcake... gosh, now I can’t decide!

Most embarrassing moment at school? When my friend yelled at me for not getting her an iced chai latte in front of the whole class... it was horrible!

Describe the first job you ever had. I run errands for my friends all the time! Sometimes the things they want me to do get pretty gross though...

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Opening a cafe that serves the best mochi in all of Canada!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? With a nice guy that likes me for who I am, going to cafes and petting cats and dogs and just doing what I wanna do for a day... I think that’d be totally awesome sauce.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Buy a Shaymin plushie! Then hug it for the rest of the day. Shoot, that was over the word limit...

Katie What’s your best quality? Sadie always says she loves my, like, optimism!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

I love listening to pop and, like, 70’s rock!

Pastel pink.

Sadie and I love, like, watching Mean Girls together!

Dark cherries! They also make for some, like, really tasty earrings.

Describe your craziest dream. I was without Sadie for, like, an entire day!

Best memory from childhood? The day I met Sadie, when she moved to the house, like, next door to mine. She was, like, kinda hard to understand at first, but over time her Scottish-ness mellowed out a bit.

Most embarrassing moment at school? When I tried to stand up for Sadie when a bully was, like, pushing her around, and accidentally hit my funny bone on the locker door.

Describe the first job you ever had. Sadie and I work at this super cute ice cream shop together!

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll own the ice cream store and have added, like, a bazillion more flavours! It’s quiet during winter, but there’s tons of people during summer, and that’s really all I need.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? I’d so, like, love to go on a date with Sadie. We could go to a sewing workshop and I’d stitch her the best stuffie, like, ever!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Kiss Sadie...

LeShawna What’s your best quality? All of them, duh.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Anything I can dance along to, sugar.

Yellow.

High School Musical 2.

Mango chutney is always good.

Describe your craziest dream. It was more of a nightmare, really. I was stuck in a room full of spiders and those eight-legged freaks covered me head to toe, but I couldn’t scream.

Best memory from childhood? When I won my first ever beauty pageant. Mind you, it was kindergarten, and I was the only participant, but that doesn’t matter.

Most embarrassing moment at school? Honey, I don’t get embarrassed. I haven’t got anything to be embarrassed about.

Describe the first job you ever had. I work at this dumb coffee shop. The only reason I’m still there is because I get free pastries.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’m the CEO of a multinational corporation, and, obviously, the most famous billionairess in the world!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Look, sugar, do you seriously think anyone is up to my standards?

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Dance the day away.

Lindsay What’s your best quality? My looks, of course.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Pop songs, definitely.

Pinkest Pink. It’s the pinkest shade of pink that exists.

Legally Blonde.

Anything that helps me keep my figure.

Describe your craziest dream. I was some other girl’s lackey. It was disgusting.

Best memory from childhood? The first time I tried out sparkly lip gloss. I still have the empty container somewhere so I can, like, look back on it and remind myself how far I’ve come.

Most embarrassing moment at school? Ugh, definitely when I forgot to apply my eyeshadow. My ‘friends’ may have pretended not to notice, but I could tell they had.

Describe the first job you ever had. I’m a cashier at Lush on the weekends. They give me discount on face masks as long as I, like, sell enough. So, obviously, I get, like, three free face masks a week.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Applying my makeup.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Some hunky model, walking around town so everyone can envy us.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Spread rumours.

Noah What’s your best quality? My cynicism.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

The kind I can’t hear.

Meh.

No thanks.

Just ate.

Describe your craziest dream. I don’t care about my dreams enough to remember them.

Best memory from childhood? My first time playing a video game. I was three and I completed the first level within a minute.

Most embarrassing moment at school? People with brains and wit like mine don’t get embarrassed.

Describe the first job you ever had. I was a tutor for some high school jock when I was five.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll be at home, sitting on my couch, relaxing and reading a book.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? I wouldn’t want to go on a date with him, since I have no idea what he looks like, but there’s a guy in my Underground Alliance that is really good at organising raids, so I guess him.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Sleep.

Owen What’s your best quality? My appetite, haha!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Nickleback all the way! Woohoo!

Maple syrup brown!

Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs! I don’t care what anyone says, it just looks so deliciously good!

Anything that my stomach can take is good in my book! Which is just about everything, haha!

Describe your craziest dream. Hm... probably the one where doughnuts were raining from the sky! I wish something like that could happen in real life...

Best memory from childhood? When my Ma and Pa got me my first cookbook! There were so many delicious recipes in there, like that Cookie Monster ice cream cake, and the chocolate fudge cookies!

Most embarrassing moment at school? When I forgot to add one of the ingredients to my nachos in food tech, it just didn’t have the same cheesy, gooey goodness!

Describe the first job you ever had. I work at my parents bakery sometimes! I make apple strudels for them, and they always get way more customers when I do! It makes me feel super happy!

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Working at the bakery with my parents, making as many apple strudels as the people want, haha!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? All of my pals from school, throwing a party in a cottage where we can make as many s’mores and finger sandwiches we want!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Write down all my recipes!

Sadie What’s your best quality? Katie says she, like, loves how my eyes sparkle when I smile!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

Late 2000’s pop music, the kind you can, like, jump around and party to!

Red, like the colour of my shirt.

Katie and I, like, love to watch Mean Girls together!

Honeycrisp apples! But, like, only honeycrisp.

Describe your craziest dream. Katie wasn’t my best friend, and it was, like, so weird!

Best memory from childhood? The day I met Katie! She acted kinda, like, weird at first, but we’re, like, the best of friends!

Most embarrassing moment at school? I tried to stand up for Katie because, like, this bully was teasing her, and, like, bullying isn’t cool! But I tripped on my heels and, like, knocked the bully over like a bowling pin. So, like, it wasn’t that bad.

Describe the first job you ever had. Katie and I work at the, like, cutest ice cream shop ever!

Ten years from now, what are you doing? I’ll own a cafe that’s, like, right next door to Katie’s ice cream shop, and there will be this door connecting the buildings so people can, like, buy lunch and then go right next door to Katie’s!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Oh, I’d love to go on a date with Katie! She’s just so nice, and pretty, and says, like, the sweetest things! We could go to the beach and I’d collect all the, like, prettiest seashells for her!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Kiss Katie...

Trent What’s your best quality? Either my straight A’s or my ukulele playing skills, depends on who you ask.

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

I like those covers on YouTube where it’s just people singing and playing the ukulele, no matter what song it is. It helps calm me down.

Green, but I’m pretty sure that’s kind of obvious.

Love, Simon. I read the book, too, and both of them are fantastic!

I know it’s not really a food, but I love orange juice.

Describe your craziest dream. I followed my dad’s advice and became an accountant. I mean, can you imagine? Me? An accountant?

Best memory from childhood? When I won my first ever award at the school talent show. Looking back on it, I can’t see why they voted for me, since one of my ukulele’s strings broke mid-performance, but I’m still proud.

Most embarrassing moment at school? I don’t know, maybe when one kid almost set fire to the end of my hair in chemistry? But that wasn’t really embarrassing for me, really.

Describe the first job you ever had. It’s nothing that cool, I’m just a cashier at some supermarket.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Hopefully, I’ll be known world-wide for my music and be on tour, playing ukulele and making fans happy.

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Probably just hanging out with a couple of mates at the beach, swimming, building sandcastles, you know. The works.

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Write a song.

Tyler What’s your best quality? My sporting ability!

Faves? (music, colour, movie, food)

I like those tunes they play at the beginning of the sports part of the news, with the swishy 3D logo and everything!

Blue and green!

Bend It Like Beckham!

My high-protein high-carb energy bars!

Describe your craziest dream. I dreamt all the colours in the world were, like, inverted! To be fair, I had had around ten of my energy bars that day, so...

Best memory from childhood? When I headbutted the soccer ball into the net in my first ever soccer game! So what if it was just me and my dad playing, it’s the thought that counts!

Most embarrassing moment at school? When my mum was my substitute gym teacher and she kept assigning me places on the court where I couldn’t do anything. It was like she was trying to make me look bad or something!

Describe the first job you ever had. My parents won’t let me get a job. Something about me being too ‘clumsy’ or whatever.

Ten years from now, what are you doing? Playing in the big leagues! In every sport!

My dream date would be with __________, doing what? Jess from Bend It Like Beckham! We could play soccer together, and it’d be totally cool!

It’s the last day on earth. In five words or less, what would you do? Everything to the extreme!

[megaguardain]

Elseworld’s Supergirl: First Born, Chapter Two

Chapter Two of Elseworld's Supergirl. We'll see Kara, Kal and the Kents (just realized all the K names here) come into Smallville for adoption papers, and boy are they in for a surprise. Plus an appearance of a very well known character.

See it early on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/user?u=8366308

“What the hell?” Jonathan asked. He, Martha, Kara and Kal were in the old truck. They had come into Smallville proper to figure out how to get adoption papers. The problem they found was the courthouse was a burnt out shell.

The police were stationed around what used to be the courthouse, yellow tape line the property with them. A man with greying brown hair and wearing a blue button up shirt with a black tie was speaking to another man wearing a suit.

“I’m going to have a word with the sheriff,” Jonathan said, getting out of the truck. Kara looked at Kal with concern. Jonathan came up to the two men as they finished talking, “Sheriff, mayor,” Jonathan greeted them.

“Jonathan! Good to see you!” the man in the suit said, “I’d stay and chat, but I have to see how the rest of Smallville faired in that meteor shower,”

“Is that what happened here?” Jonathan asked.

“It looks like,” the man in the blue shirt explained, “It musta hit a gas main or somethin’.”

“So everything’s gone, Parker?” Jonathan asked, glancing back at the truck. “Most likely, why do ya ask?” Parker asked.

Jonathan sighed, “Just before the meteor shower yesterday, Martha and I found this kid in our barn,”

“What was he doing in your barn?”

“She was with her baby cousin. They’re from Markovia. Don’t speak a lick of English,” Jonathan explained, looking toward the truck, the sheriff followed his gaze. He could she Martha in the passenger seat and a blonde teenaged girl in the back. Jonathan leaned close to the sheriff, “They don’t have any kinda papers. We think they came illegally.”

“What are you asking me Jon?” Sheriff Parker asked.

“Martha and I…” Jonathan trailed off, “We’re looking to adopt them,”

“Adopt them?”

“They’ve got no one else Doug, we can’t send them back where they came from,” the farmer explained.

Sheriff Parker sighed, looking at the ground, “A’ight.” he said after a moment, “I’ll see what I can do on making up some adoption papers,”

“Thank you, we owe you,” Jonathan said.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m going to have to get some information from you two later,” Sheriff Parker explained, “What are their names first of all?”

“Kara and K-…” Jonathan stopped. Kal-El isn’t an English name, let alone an Earth one. He scrambled to think of another name, “Clark. The baby’s name is Clark,” “You paused there,” the sheriff pointed out.

“He has a..interesting name. We’re renaming him,” Jonathan bluffed.

“Uh-huh,”

“I’ll be seeing you, sheriff,” Jonathan said, turning back to walk back toward the truck.

“See ya Jon,”

Jonathan sat back in the driver’s seat of the truck and started it back up, they were turned around and heading back to the farm before anyone said something.

“What did Doug say?” Martha asked.

“He’ll make up some adoption papers. He thinks these two are from Markovia. But…” Jon trailed off.

“But what?” Martha asked.

“I had to rename the baby.”

“You what?”

“Kal-El isn’t a Markovian name!” Jonathan argued.

“How do you know? How would Douglas know?!” Martha argued.

“Tae nan roʃ gem?” Kara asked. The Kents looked at each other.

“This is going to be a long game of charades,” Jonathan mumbled as he drove.

Three Weeks pass…

Kara sat in her room in the Kent House reading the English dictionary. It was the room she woke up in, so it was as good as any to claim. Better than the barn. “Fin...grr?” Kara struggled to read. That didn’t sound right, “Fingar? Finger?” Kara asked herself. This language was difficult to learn, she could hold something of a conversation with Martha and Jonathan at least.

The last few weeks had been difficult since Krypton. Kara and ‘Clark’ had been adopted by the Kents, but it was strange. They had to hide the paper work for some reason? Earth culture was stranger still. They didn’t have one government with different branches like Krypton, they had different ones all around the world. Kara was glad she didn’t have to learn all of them.

Kara heard something. It sounded like rumbling coming outside, she put the book down and looked out the window. She could see a long black vehicle drive onto the Kent Farm. It came to a stop outside the House and a man wearing a suit and hat came out the front of the vehicle. He walked to the back and opened the door and another man stepped out, he also wore a suit, but his red hair was a long mane. Has he been touched by Rao? Kara thought. She watched the red haired man speak look around. She thought she saw him say something before hearing Jonathan.

“Luthor!” he sounded annoyed.

“Mr. Kent!” the red haired man called back. She could see them continue speaking, but could only hear pieces.

“..don’t care...money...can’t…” Jonathan said.

“...understand...research….already bought….” Luthor explained.

It looked like the pair were arguing. Jonathan looked ready to hit Luthor, Kara couldn’t blame him. Something about him felt wrong.

“Well this is a surprise,” a voice behind her said. Kara turned to find a man leaning on her doorframe. He wore a suit like Luthor in the yard, but he was definitely younger than him. He would’ve looked Kara’s age if it wasn’t for his bald head, “I thought the Kents couldn’t have a kid,” he said, then he noticed the crib, “Much less two,”

“Who are..you?” Kara demanded.

“My apologizes, for not introducing myself. My name is Alexander Luthor, but most people just call me Lex,” he said, “Who are you?”

“Kara,”

“And who’s this?” Lex asked, approaching Clark’s crib.

“Don’t touch him,” Kara growled. Lex stepped back, with his hands up.

“You’re clearly adopted,” Lex said, “If the hair wasn’t a dead give away, your accent is. I can’t place it but it’s clearly not the local drawl,”

“I’m from...Markovia,” Kara said like she practiced with the Kents. That was one of the first things they had her learn in their language, besides formal greetings.

“Markovia huh? Interesting,” Lex said. He looked at Kara, his green eyes seemed to be looking for cracks in her lie, “My father has a few contracts with Markovian officials. I don’t think I’ve heard them with an accent like yours,”

Zhaol! Kara swore internally. Martha and Jonathan didn’t tell how what to say if someone actually knew someone from Markovia.

“I’m from...Kuvaium,” Kara said. Thank Rao for no one knowing Kryptonian, especially a kuvaium snake like Lex.

“Kuvaium? Never heard of it,”

“It’s a small..town. You probably can’t find it. Especially since it’s gone,” Kara improvised, anything to get this creep out of the house.

“I may look into it, even if it’s gone,” Lex said, turning to leave, “My apologizes for intruding on you Kara, I have hope I’ll see you again,” Kara glared at him as he disappeared out of sight, she could hear him descend the stairs and leave out the back door. She looked out at Jonathan and Luthor still arguing.

“...sn’t right we can negotiate,” she heard Luthor offer. They were much clearer than before, but they were still muffled.

“My farm isn’t for sale, that’s my price,” Jonthan explained. Unnoticed by Jonathan and Martha, but noticed by Kara, Lex quietly entering the car he and Luthor came in.

“Mr. Kent, we only need your land for a short period of time and I can assure you, I can and will compensate you and your wife for your time,” Luthor said.

“I don’t care, I’m not letting you tear up my farm for some science experiment,” Jonathan stood his ground.

“Alright, have it your way,” Luthor sighed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a card, “If you change your mind though, here’s my card,” Jonathan took it without breaking his glare at Luthor, who just kept smiling at him, “I’m sure we’ll see each soon Mr. Kent,” Luthor said.

Luthor entered the car and the chauffeur closed the door, Jonathan and Martha watched as the car turned around and made its way off the farm.

“Learn anything, Lex?” Kara could hear Luthor ask. He was even more muffled, and getting quieter as the car drove further away.

“Nothing that would interest you,” Lex said.

Kara covered her ears. They’re driving away, in a vehicle. Why is she hearing them? How can she be hearing them.

“I need to know everything, Lex.” Luthor explained.

“They have two kids, one’s about my age the other is a toddler. Maybe a month old,” Lex explained.

“Can you befriend the older one?”

“Possibly. I didn’t give her a good first impression,”

“You were seen?!” Luthor shouted, but it was no louder than a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter...we…” Lex said. It was hard to hear them now, Kara could only pick out random words, “...eminent domain...Kent…MOOO!” Kara jumped. All she could hear were animal noises. She looked out the window again, towards the barn and fields. She could hear the cows in the barn munching on hay, she could hear the grass move in the breeze outside. This was terrifying. What was happening to her? Was she going crazy?

“...can’t keep Lionel away forever,” Kara heard Martha say. Jonathan and Martha were inside now.

“We’ll think of something,” Jonathan sighed. Kara crept out of her room and made her way downstairs, “We can’t have him poking around and finding about, Kara,” Jonathan said as Kara entered the living room.

“Is everything...good?” Kara asked, still not used to English . “Yeah, we just had to deal with someone...not nice,” Jonathan explained.

“Luthor?” Kara asked.

“Yeah, how do you know that?” Jonathan asked.

“You...talked really loud,” Kara lied. She wasn’t going crazy.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about Kara,” Jonathan assured her.

“O-okay,” Kara said, she turned and started heading back upstairs before stopping, “Did...did Luthor say something about an amnient..domain?”

“Amnient domain? You mean eminent domain?” Jonathan asked. Kara didn’t say anything, “Is everything okay Kara?” he asked.

“Y-yes,” Kara lied before quickly ascending the stairs and going to her room. Everything was not okay.

Kara sat on her bed, pulling her knees up to her face. What was happening? How could she hear things from so far away? She never heard of anyone being able to do this on Krypton, with the exception of Flamebird and Nightwing. But those two were legends! Myths!

“Why did you send me here?” Kara cried to no one in Kryptonian, “What is happening to me?” she cried.

[froggybaek]

set it off - optional bias

♛➩ genre: v sweet fluff, maybe a hint of angst but not really, friends-to-lovers

♛➩ pairing: neutral!reader x optional bias [male]

♛➩ warnings: H/N is where you insert your bias’ name

♛➩ summary: you hadn’t been home to new york in months, busy building your photography business by travelling all over the country. now that you have the time to relax, you decide to venture back to where it all began - back to the place you called home, to your family, to him.

♛➩ word count: 3.1k

 When you were younger, you were praised for your determination to fulfill whatever goals you set your mind to. Your parents prided your headstrong attitude, your teachers favored you for your hardworking work ethic, and your peers either respected or despised you as a person. As a child this made you wonder if it was all worth it - worth the harsh whispers in the hallways of your middle school, worth the occasional and “totally accidental” shove you received in passing to your next class.

 At one point, it had all become too much for you. Just touching the youthful age of fourteen, you were ready to throw away your passions simply to appease your fellow students; but then, someone very important to you had said something that would stick to you like glue for decades.

 “Everyone has something they’re passionate about, Y/N. Hell, your bullies do to - they’re just hesitant to admit it in fear of not being popular. One day, they’ll come to respect what you love, you just have to keep doing whatever it is you do so you can show them.”

 A soft sigh escaped your parted lips upon reminiscing the memory from - how many years ago had it been?

 Glancing outside the bedroom window on the second floor of your house, you spot a group of teenagers that couldn’t possibly be over the age of fifteen huddled together. Two of them carried blue, plastic grocery bags in their hands, filled to the brim with what appeared to be rolls of toilet paper. One of the girls held up and began passing around black masks to her friends. Once they were all disguised, they started to walk down the street towards the cul-de-sac - ah, so that was what they were up to.

 Most of the houses on your road looked fairly similar, built with quaint white bricks, a gray foundation, and black tile roofs. Yet at the very end, resting in the center of the cul-de-sac, was the Orion family home. Decked out with a wacky treehouse in the front yard, a mesh fence, red brick, and an eyesore of a yellow roof, the Orions had always been the boot of childish pranks since, well, forever.

 For some reason, they never complained - in fact, an old friend of yours was convinced that they didn’t mind having their house egged and strewn with toilet paper, since it gave them something to do besides sitting around and staring at their television all day. Seeing that damned eyesore of a house after such a long time stirred up a plethora of old memories, but you figured that you could think about them later; after all, your cookies would burn if you didn’t get back downstairs and take them out of the oven.

————————————————————————

 Woven basket hanging off your arm, you quietly walked down the familiar street, the soles of your shoes squeaking every now and again on a puddle from the storm the night before. Red and white mailboxes lined up in an orderly fashion in front of each green lawn, most of them decorated neatly with brightly colored flowers and the occasional birch tree. A stray cat snored peacefully on the front porch of the Clover household, a baby blue bowl perched on the steps. Two giant dogs, Lissa and Chrom, barked at you as you walked past their territory, the pale yellow bells attached to their respective blue and orange collars ringing in your ears.

 Soon enough you arrived at your destination, one that you regarded to be something like your second home when you were growing up. The practically ancient tire-swing swayed in the gentle breeze that swept past your figure, a few tendrils of the rope having long since untangled from the bundle that held the swing on the crooked branch of the single tree in the front yard.

 “I bet that I can push you all the way to the branch, Y/N!”

 You playfully stuck our your pink tongue to the boy, tossing your book onto the grass so you could clasp onto the ropes of the tire-swing. “No way - you aren’t that strong, H/N.” You giggled teasingly, suddenly regretting your words when he purses his lips and steps forward to push the tire, the strong force sending the swing into a wild circle.

 The cheeky boy laughed at your screams, pushing you even stronger than before when the tire comes back around full circle. “Haha, take that, Y/N - oh shit!” He cursed loudly when your body somehow managed to fling itself off the tire-swing, the frail boy just barely catching you with his own body before you both fell to the ground. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

 Now, what the worried boy hadn’t expected, was for the person in his arms to burst out in giggles. “... did you hit your head on something before I caught you?” He pondered aloud with furrowed eyebrows, sitting up and perching his chin on your shoulder so he could sent an inquisitive look your way.

 “N-no, I didn’t get hurt - that was super fun!” you cheered loudly, clapping the palms of your hands together in excitement, “let’s go again, H/N!”

 “H/N, did you say a naughty word!?” His mother shouted from her bedroom window, causing both of you to look at each other and go pale in fright, though your giggles never let up.

 Looking over to that same exact window with a faint smile, you notice that the blinds are open, the silky white curtains being pushed apart as an older woman with graying hair peeks out of her home to investigate the strange person in her front yard. As you get closer and closer to the front door, your appearance strikes a chord in her, demonstrated by her mouth gaping open and how she speeds away from the window to quickly open the door for you.

 “Hey-”

 “Y/N, it’s really you!” the woman nearly screeched in utter joy, throwing herself into your arms and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, “it’s been so long, dear! You know, you and H/N have really become the pride of the county now that you’re both all grown up.” She showers you in kind praises, a hint of a blush spreading across your cheeks. Although, something she says catches your attention.

 “Thank you, it’s absolutely wonderful to see you too, but... well, what exactly has H/N been up to lately?” you question her innocently, following her inside and chuckling softly at the sight of her husband slumped over on the couch, snoring loudly with their three cats resting on his belly.

 She leads you into the kitchen, helping you set down the basket you’d brought with you and laying out a plate to set the cookies on. “Well, while you’ve been building a reputation for your amazing photography, our little tike has been working his way up the ladder at the local hospital. He’s their star surgeon!” His mother sighs with a cheery smile, bouncing on the heels of her feet as she takes one of the baggies from the basket and plates the fresh cookies. “Oh, but you both have outgrown this place. You’re both so busy, and now he’s got his own fancy penthouse in the main part of the city.”

 The... city?

 “I ain’t never gonna live in the city! It’s way too loud, has too many people.” H/N declared out of nowhere, nodding his head in certainty, straightening his posture against the trunk of the dead tree he’d been leaning against.

 You were sat next to him, legs crossed neatly as you quietly flipped another page in the book you were busy reading, somehow managing to keep a keen focus on both the words on the pages and the bubbly boy beside you. “Mhm, whatever you say. By the way, you’re using improper grammar.” You corrected him blandly, making your friend puff out his cheeks in annoyance at your small smirk of amusement.

 He huffed dramatically, slumping over to cuddle into your side. His eyelids were constantly fighting off the drowsiness of his body, but he was determined to stay awake. “Yeah, yeah - whatever you say...” the boy trailed off with a yawn, now completely latched onto your arm, “I don’t know how in the world anyone can like living in the city. It’s way too obnoxious, with all the lights, sirens, and people. In fact, I think I want to live in the country.”

 “Mhm.”

 He snorted at your hum of acknowledgement, knowing that you were still listening to his rambling. Most others would assume you weren’t paying them any attention, but they couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Since he was, of course, your best friend in the whole wide world, he knew when you were and were not paying attention to his words. “You’re going to come with me, right? I mean, when I move out, someday. We can buy a farm and raise tons of animals, it’ll be fun and peaceful. We can have cows, sheep, pigs, ducks...”

 H/N continued to list off the perks of living together in the south, where there was tons of land just waiting for the two of you to build on. At some point, though, he felt your head slowly fall against his, which had been resting on your shoulder for some time now. Upon glancing down at your lap, he’d noticed that the book you’d been reading was closed over a hand you used to keep your place, your other hand placed on his thigh.

 Seeing you so... at peace, so relaxed even in sleep, the teenager halted his ramblings to save them for another time, eventually falling asleep curled up next to you.

————————————————————————

 After you’d listened to the woman you were happy to call a second mother tell stories for at least another hour, you ended up asking her for H/N’s address. Even now, sitting in the yellow cab that drove you to your destination, you couldn’t understand why he had decided to move into the bustling city. New York was already loud and crowded, so why had the boy who told you that he would find a place down south in the country settled down in a supposedly luxurious penthouse in the heart of New York City?

 The traffic was absolutely horrid. You’d dealt with your fair share of traffic mishaps, considering it was unavoidable when you had gone to so many places over the years, but this reached a whole new level of aggravating. Not to mention, your childhood friend had the worst temper when it came to driving... although, judging from how his mother had described his situation, he probably had enough money to hire his own personal driver so he wouldn’t feel as exasperated with the city traffic.

 Still, you had to admit that New York City was stunning, even in the shimmering daylight. You simply couldn’t wait for the sky to turn a dark black so you could take some unique shots with the various neon lights and abnormal amount of just as unique people.

 “We’re here.” Your cab driver hums, pulling up just in front of the parking garage. You stumble out of the vehicle, not forgetting the tip, of course, and begin to make your way up.

————————————————————————

 It isn’t difficult getting to the penthouse where H/N is staying, thankfully enough. The only other person in the elevator had been a pair of boys who literally couldn’t keep their hands off each other - you dreaded to think of what they did after you left.

 But here you were, nibbling on your bottom lip as you stood at the front door, your fist lightly knocking on the sheer white wood. Within seconds the door creaks open, revealing a man that somehow looked no different than before, but also much more mature than you could've imagined growing up.

 Just like his mother, a wide grin spreads across his lips at the sight of you and, before you could possibly protest, (not that you would), he throws himself into you, squeezing you tightly against his chest. “Y/N - I can’t believe you’re here.” He breathes out in disbelief, pulling back after a moment, though his hands rested on your hips.

 “I have some time off... I figured visiting wouldn’t hurt anyone.” you admit with a hint of a teasing smile, sensing that any potential awkwardness at slipped away the second he hugged you. “You look - amazing. Not the same awkward, bumbling senior, huh?”

 H/N playfully narrows his eyes at your jab, eyes flickering all across your face as he responded, “nope, and you’re certainly not the lonesome, pessimistic teenager anymore, are you? I mean, you are running only one of the most popular photography businesses in the country.”

 “And you’re a surgeon living in the damn city, of all places.” you retort quickly, quirking an eyebrow up at the man, “I suppose we both grew up, didn’t we?”

 He falls silent for another moment, amused by your sharp wit that, apparently, never left even though you were an adult now. “I suppose we did, then. But - I hope you didn’t grow out of fireworks. I was actually getting ready to head to the park and watch the Valentine’s Day firework show, I’d love it if you came with me.”

 “I would love to.”

————————————————————————

 The walk down to the park was oddly... peaceful. For one, H/N had lent you one of his coats, adamant that the weather would only grow colder during the show. You didn’t want to admit it, but the kind, simple action had made your heart flutter. Not only that, but he’d insisted on having a mini-photoshoot on the way there, posing like a model each time you pointed out a spot that would make for a great photo.

 Walking side by side with the man, who definitely looked like he’d matured but certainly held onto his silly, childish side, you felt more relaxed than you had in years. You forgot how happy he made you, how much your lips would begin to ache because of how much he made you smile and laugh at his stupid puns and corny jokes.

 “Here, I know the perfect spot.” He said out of the blue, dragging you to a vacant spot under a tree. Digging into the bag he had slung over his shoulders, the giddy man pulled out a thick, midnight blue blanket, laying it over the prickly grass before he pulled you down to sit next to him. “The show will start soon, I think. The fireworks they put out are beautiful... I’m glad I finally have someone to watch them with.” He murmurs quietly, offering you a small smile of content.

 You were thankful that the shade of the tree and the general darkness hid your now tomato red cheeks, especially since he would no doubt tease you for being so - so nervous around him.

 As teenagers, you’d grown to care for H/N in a way that you couldn’t quite understand. After all, he was your other half, always making you happy on dreary days and offering his support in most of your endeavors. Sure, other boys were nice enough, and some had even confessed to you - but for some strange reason, you only had eyes for the person you called your best friend.

 There had been a time, quite similar to the scene you were in now, where you’d realized your true feelings for H/N. How you wished that you would’ve acted on them, back then...

 “Hey, what’s wrong?” He’d asked you gently one summer’s night, the boy having been lying down with his head resting on your lap while you stared at, well, nothing. Ever since you both had come back to his place after a pool party a mutual friend had thrown, you'd been down in the dumps. He wasn't about to push you for an answer, since he knew that you were pretty out of it, but if he could possibly can an explanation sooner rather than later, he figured he could help you be less upset.

 “I - well... your cousin, she uh... she said it was weird that I haven’t had my first kiss yet,” you finally admit with a sniff, looking anywhere but down where the boy was lying in your lap, “she’s right, you know. I’m almost seventeen and I haven’t even kissed anyone, it’s - hmph!”

 You barely have time to register what’s happening before H/N cups your cheeks and pulls you down to his level, his lips connecting with yours. He kisses you until neither of you can breathe, slowly parting your lips.

 “See? Now you’ve had your first kiss - and she can shove it, by the way. I didn’t have my first kiss either.” He admits to you casually, diverting his attention to the fireworks his parents were setting off by the pool, leaving you dumbfounded and shy.

 Snapping out of your daydream, you bring your fingertips away from your lips, glad that he didn’t catch you reminiscing on the kiss from so long ago. “S-so... why the city? I thought you wanted to go to the south and raise cattle for the rest of your life.” You question him in burning curiosity, desperate to get your mind off of the haunting memories.

 “Honestly? I didn’t want to go down there alone… I guess I wanted to wait for someone special.” H/N mumbles after a second of thinking about your question, tilting his head back so he can meet your gaze. In the reflection of his eyes, you see a bright blue firework go off in the distance, the start of the Valentine’s Day show. “There was someone who I thought could come with me, but they ended up pursuing their dreams before I could ask.” He continues slowly, a faint smirk twitching onto his lips.

 “O-oh,” you stutter in bewilderment, “what... happened? Do you still care for them?”

 “Oh yeah. There’s no way I could move on from them, even if we never officially were... anything,” he chuckles, “actually, I saw them for the first time in years today. I thought we’d left it at an awkward note, but the second we started talking again, it’s like all the feelings rushed back - for me, anyway. I’m not so sure if they feel the same way-”

 You mirror his actions from all those years ago, bringing your hands up to gently cusp his chilled cheeks in the palms of your warm hands. Without much warning, you lean forward and press your lips against his own, smiling as he hums in delight into the kiss.

 A firework shoots off in the distance, the red sparkles forming a cheesy heart in light of the holiday - but you’re both too busy making up for lost time under the shade of the tree.

[onenettvchannel]

A Lightning Strike in Alabama killed one farming Cow in Autauga County

AUTAUGAVILLE, ALABAMA -- A black cattle cow was struck and killed late Sunday afternoon (May 15th, 2022 - Alabama local time) at a family-owned farm of the Autauga Farming Company Inc. (AFCI) as per localized rain shower and thunderstorms happening first in Autauga County. Andy Wendland runs and operates the said company, along with his family themselves.

In a Facebook post via its syndicated press release, Wendland's family was wrapping up a get-together Sunday night but, one cow was killed outside from a lightning strike. Among other cows were safe as a pre-caution. "We were in the midst of wrapping up a family gathering. It had been raining with some thunder. We were all safely inside with children and grandchildren, when we heard this loud 'BOOM' of thunder, very close by. Emma Wendland looked up just in time to see one of our cows fall over in the pasture. The cow had been struck by lightning, and fell dead on the spot, within a hundred yards of our front porch. We have never had one hit this close to our home".

According to the National Weather Service (NWS) in America, the odds of being struck by lightning like a lottery for example are extremely low around 1 in a million. The most common cause of death related to lightning had been resulting in a cardiac arrest at that time of the said strike.

Wendland wants to remind people about taking shelter during a severe weather.

The United States Centers for Disease Control (US-CDC) advises people to the public, "When thunder roars, go indoors". Officials said if going inside isn’t feasible, people should crouch and get as close to the ground as possible, but never seek shelter under a tree for now.

NWS says lightning kills about 20 people each year in the United States alone and hundreds more are injured. Autauga County is located near 20 miles northwest after Prattville.

PHOTO COURTESY: Autauga Farming Company Inc. via FB Photo

SOURCE: *https://www.facebook.com/162731527078607/posts/5424038540947853 [Referenced FB Photo from AFCI] *https://www.foxla.com/news/lightning-kills-cow-on-the-spot-prompting-warning-from-farmer [Referenced News Article #1 from KTTV's FOX 11: Los Angeles] *https://www.sacbee.com/news/nation-world/national/article261488222.html [Referenced News Article #2 from the Sacramento Bee] and *https://www.newsweek.com/lightning-strike-kill-15-cows-stormy-weather-1588902 [Referenced News Article #3f from Newsweek]

-- OneNETnews Team

[ghost-chance]

A New Lease on Life 2: Death Was Only the Beginning

A quick note regarding dialogue and odd words: Symbols at the end of a word or statement mark vocabulary terms or references defined at the end. If a word is followed by a dash or ellipses, it's translated or defined at the end of the chapter. I try to define most of the stuff that's really odd, heavily altered due to pronunciation, and local slang that non-local readers might not pick up. If you see a - or ~ at the end of a SENTENCE, it means the sentence or paragraph has been 'explained' in the same way; this will become necessary once Amber starts letting her oddities (and going through crisis-induced 'relapse' speech which is heavily brogued) but the relapses aren't really a frequent occurrence until the end of Part I.

This chapter dedicated to Volunteers. You put your life on hold to bring life to others, all without any thought of compensation. My old community is one of countless forever changed by volunteers, from search and rescue to donations to rebuilding. Thank you…our debt to you can never be repaid enough. Also dedicated to the real-life inspiration for 'Aaron,' whom I owe my very life to.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS! Including but not limited to Tornadoes, Severe weather, Town destroyed by tornadoes and severe weather, shock, graphic imagery, corpses, violent death, mentions of religion.

Suggested Listening: Linkin Park "Iridescent"          

2: Death Was Only the Beginning                  

             Willsdale, Missouri, Sunday May 8th, 2011          

The sound of violent retching woke Amber with a start; sometime during the night she'd apparently fallen off the sofa and now lay sprawled on the carpet in a pile. As sleepy disorientation faded into exhausted annoyance, she glanced off to her right. Sure enough, the bathroom door hung wide open spilling bright light out into the cramped hallway. "Good thing ya got short hair, Willis," she muttered, crawling back on the lumpy sofa. "I ain't gotta feel guilty 'bout not holdin' it back for ya."

"Fuck you, O'Brien—" her friend's guttural retort was interrupted by another round of heaving.

"I told ya that whisky'd kill ya," she reminded matter-of-factly as she swiped a long brown braid back over her shoulder. "Yer usual beer's water compared to Scotch whisky; smells like goat piss, too." Clutching her stiff back, she stumbled off the sofa and limped into the tiny kitchen seeking coffee. A note tacked to the fridge told her their host had already headed to work, and the bitter perfume of coffee filled the dog-scented air. As she dug through the cabinet for a mug a tiny, half-blind and completely neurotic black and tan Chihuahua danced at the back door, growling and barking at her. "Quiet, Nina—Uncle Aaron's hungover." Not surprisingly the dog simply snapped and growled again, then scattered when Amber came to open the back door.

"Let the damn thing out!" Aaron groaned into the toilet. "My head's KILLING ME!"

"Again, not my fault - I tried'a warn ya." Since Nina wouldn't willingly come within several yards of anyone but Ma Willis, Amber propped the back door open and returned to the coffee maker, grinning when the neurotic dog rocketed out the back door like the vet was on her heels. The door shut and her mug set up, she took a cup of water and a bottle of Mtn Dew in for Aaron. "Why on Earth your cousin thought gettin' you drunk was a GOOD idea, I'll never know."

"Oh, come'ere you sweet, beautiful bitch!" Aaron rasped; knowing he didn't mean her, Amber shoved the soda at him and left, laughing under her breath. Some things never changed, and his Mtn Dew addiction was among those things. So too, she contemplated with a crooked grin, was the way the three best friends got along by harassing one another.

The Terrible Trio started with Amber O'Brien, only daughter of a Scottish immigrant and completely unable to fit in with the locals even after she took on their twang. It quickly became a duo with the inclusion of Mercy Ross, a bristly beauty with an affinity for cows and a horrible homelife. Then in High School the two odd friends met Aaron Willis - a son of a local and the very definition of a Country Bumpkin. Years went by and the three friends only grew closer, grew more obnoxious toward one another, and grew into a fixture in town. Even after Aaron's family left Willsdale for nearby Glenville after Graduation, they still kept close contact until he moved into a double-wide trailer near Amber's home.

Supposedly Aaron Willis was completely disinterested in love, sex, and the like - he'd never shown any interest in anyone and spent years oblivious to Amber's puppy love crush on him - but deep in her heart Amber was sure he'd never be attracted to her even if he weren't apparently asexual. That ship, after all, had long sailed...she wasn't the sort to pine after someone who couldn't return her feelings and it became clear in time that they would have been horribly suited. Still, even if romance was an option, Amber was sure she wasn't Aaron's 'type' - she was plain, barely 5'3, and morbidly overweight. Her brown hair started going grey in her teen years—supposedly a hereditary thing—and she couldn't walk a straight line if she was paid to. Love had never been in the cards for her, and ever since she was hit by a van during college, neither had meaningful work.

'God almighty, quitcher whinin' O'Brine!'- she reminded herself fiercely. 'I'm alive, I'm not dyin' in an RCF, I've gotta roof over my head, food in my cabinets, an' two kickarse friends. Things could be so much worse than monthly booty calls, sexual frustration, an' an end-table ass.' Mid-rant Aaron collapsed at the rickety wooden table, burying his head in his arms.

"Please tell me Ma left donuts," he mumbled.

"Nope, just pizza," she grinned, poking his springy blond curls. "Your favorite…but it's got pickles on it."

"Sacrilege!" he spat rushing to the fridge. "She didn't—she wouldn't!" A moment later he slanted a suspicious glare at her over the rims of his glasses, his off-kilter blue eyes narrowed. "Quit pickin' on the hungover person. Pickles on pizza…you need yer head checked."

"We a'ready know that, Sugar," she grinned, snagging an éclair from the box. "Thanks for the YouTube footage, by the way: 'Drunkard milks bull,' sure to be a hit."

"I WHAT?!" he squawked. "Oh, HELL NAW! You post that an' I'll piss in your garden! On your roses!" The two friends bickered good-naturedly for the rest of the morning, never realizing that their world had changed forever.

Hours later Amber's beat up Red Civic pulled up to an empty driveway…a driveway with no standing building behind it.

Once Aaron's hangover had abated they'd returned to Willsdale, blasting Quiet Riot and Black Sabbath the whole way. As they crept over the city limits, though, the now silent car deafened the occupants stunned by their surroundings. It wasn't quite sinking in…how could so much have happened in one weekend?

The once-bustling small town was nearly gone, and what was left in its place could only be described as a war zone. Vacant cars lay crumpled along the road between downed utility poles. Fallen, splintered trees littered the landscape. There was debris everywhere—hanging in trees, pinned under fallen structures, blowing along the ground—Amber never even noticed tears streaming from her eyes or murmured reassurances from Aaron. Every structure they passed was demolished, every landmark they knew was erased. The power station, the cemetery, the house always surrounded by suicidal free-range guinea hens...all that remained was rubble-strewn dirt and asphalt. She knew what she'd find there, and she hated to see it, but before she knew it, she'd pulled into her own driveway.

Her house, the tiny shotgun shack she'd lived in for years, was reduced to a pile of timber and siding, her struggling garden buried under a ton of shattered brick and shingle.

"Amber," Aaron called repeatedly as she wandered from her car to what was once the front step. "Amber, wait!" She shook her head deliriously as she dug frantically through the debris pile over the porch; in her shock-addled mind, all she could think of was getting inside and curling up on the sagging plaid couch. It never even registered that not only was the sofa probably ruined, the house itself was no longer standing. Cursing, Aaron scrambled over fallen timber and fractured supports to tear Amber away from the ruins.

"No!" she cried frantically, fighting to get free. "It's my home! I've gotta—"

"AMBER!" he shouted, framing her face in callused hands. "Amber, it's gone! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up!" Memories flashed before her eyes, blocking out the familiar blue eyes staring into her own. Without warning, dry, chapped lips met hers fiercely as strong arms held her like she was about to be ripped out of them. When he finally let go, she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing brokenly as they slid to the sodden ground. As if mocking them, the clouds broke open anew; thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain mingled with hopeless tears.

             Sunday, May 15th, 2011          

Over a week later, Amber and Aaron were still sheltered at City Hall with countless other refugees. Neither had a home to go to, now, and Aaron wasn't able to get word out to his mother with the phone lines and cell towers down. Though he didn't understand, Amber wouldn't contact her family - her mother and father, or even the cherished and gruff grandparent she affectionately called "Gran'Da," insisting it was pointless. With every tearful story and gut-wrenching news report on the radio, the truth became clearer. The night after they drove up to visit his mother an EF 5 tornado spawned outside of town. By the time it fizzled out, it had destroyed much of the town, many of the outlying farms and homes, and left hundreds dead or homeless. Amber's home was gone, Aaron's home was gone, and no one could get ahold of Mercy Ross; Aaron worried what this might mean, and heaved a weary sigh.

Search and rescue teams descended on the ruined town with a vengeance early on, working their way through it with military precision. Everywhere, codes had been spray painted on crumbled structures and vehicles. How many survivors, how many dead, what hazards were present…just overnight, Amber's life had become an endless parade of neon x's, scribbled codes, and body bags, interspersed with canned soup and crying children. Every hour of every day it rained more and more, and Amber sat in a quiet corner staring blankly at the wall.

Aaron Willis watched her forlornly as he helped hand out bottled water. She'd been afraid of storms longer than he'd known her and he was used to witnessing anxiety attacks over the smallest rainstorm. Now, though, now she seemed almost empty and never spoke. Something was dreadfully wrong with his friend, but he had no idea what he could do. It was heart-rending to see her so dull and lifeless. Worst of all, he'd kissed her—finally given in to his years-old hidden crush and kissed her—but for whatever reason, she didn't realize the significance. She probably thought he was just trying to comfort her, he reasoned darkly, absent-mindedly crushing an empty bottle into nothing. Frustrated and helpless, he threw himself into making himself useful in any way he could and making call after call that never went through. When the rain finally let up that afternoon, unbeknownst to the rest, Amber left her corner and slipped away.

At first, she just wandered aimlessly, hopelessly lost in the town she'd spent her whole life in but following some lure only she saw. Everything was changed, everything was gone, but she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be feeling something, she thought blandly as she walked past a bloodstained, crumpled truck wrapped around a tree. Surely the horrors around her and the circling vultures should be jarring at the very least.

A battered wooden sign came into view as she crested the hill. Though most of the letters had been stripped off by rain and grit and the building behind was half-toppled, she knew without a doubt where she was. After all, she spent the last several years scrubbing the school from top to bottom every weeknight; she'd know it with her eyes closed. She drifted through the shattered glass doors in a daze, scanning the trashed hallways without notice. Her feet led her to the library and a familiar shelf she'd spent her teen years reading top to bottom. Debris was brushed aside halfheartedly until she found her target.

Dark of the Moon. It was a poetry volume long out of print and rarely found outside of libraries, and while she was a student, the book spent more time in her backpack than on its shelf. Such a shame for such a wondrous book to be lost forever, she thought hollowly as she gently leafed through now fragile pages.

Movement out the window caught her eye; thunder rolled, clouds menaced and a jagged grey tear loomed overhead. Off to the southwest was the monster she'd feared most of her life, and it was heading her way. The numb woman watched the horizon in disinterest, uncaring of the strange disembodied ticking sound or the sudden feeling of calm that washed over her. Rain pelted the cracked glass windows and wind howled, kicking up clouds of debris from the already battered landscape. A deafening, grinding roar like a fork in a disposal shattered the air as the tornado drew nearer. Amber stared it down never flinching as her ears ached from the pressure.

Perhaps...perhaps this was her only choice - the only way she'd ever find peace. If she was in her right mind, she would be horrified by the thought...but she wasn't in her right mind at all. That foul monster stole her home, stole her town, stole her very life, but there was one thing it would never steal…

Heedless of the broken glass underfoot she dropped to her scarred, aching knees. Head bowed, she prayed—prayed for the safety of her friends and family, prayed for the souls of those touched by the tornadoes' destruction, and prayed for peace in the afterlife. The window exploded inward and shattered glass rained over her head but her only regret was that she'd never found a love worth living for.

A bedraggled team searched the school for survivors. "HEY!" shouted the tall black man as he clambered toward the woman kneeling before the shattered windows. He checked Amber's neck but recoiled at the bloody wound at her forehead; the body was long grown stiff and she had no pulse. "Why on earth did you come here?" he wondered aloud. "Why didn't you seek shelter?"

A block of cloudy green glass lay nearby, the corner stained with blood - a glass brick. Her cold corpse told a vile story of a woman in shock who was taken by surprise and died from head injury, and showed plainly what happened when humans pitted themselves against nature. At least, the man considered with a grimace, it was likely quick - she died on her knees, possibly praying for her life, but at least she didn't suffer.

His brown-haired companion noticed the book cradled in her arms and wrenched it free, wincing at the way the body fell to the floor from the motion. The book's title wasn't ringing any bells. "It's a shame," the first-responder remarked as they eased the stiff body into a black bag and zipped it closed. Someone would come by later on and cart her to the morgue with the storms' other casualties for identification. "This book clearly meant something to her, though - she thought it was worth dying for. It'd be a pity to leave it behind when the building will just wind up razed." Moments later the team had moved on, a neon orange code on the tiles of the front entryway Amber's only memorial.

             A vast, dark place somewhere beyond Time

            'Wha…where am I?' Amber thought distractedly as she scanned her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a book…what book? Oh, right; Dark of the Moon, that poetry anthology that she'd coveted for years. Why did she covet it, though? Was it not hers? No matter how she tried, the details of her life were slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.  

   She existed in a vast expanse of bleak, black nothingness, her only company the incessant ticking of a legion of unseen clocks. How did she get here? She couldn't recall—everything was a blur! Confused, she wracked her brain for answers that continued to evade her. In a deeply engrained stress habit, she reached to pull one of her twin braids over her shoulder, intent on tugging at the loose tuft at the end.  

   Nothing happened. Though she knew she'd moved and her brain had sent the proper signals, she had no braids—no hands—no body! 'What's happened to me?!' she thought frantically. 'Did I…no, it can't be…I didn't…die…?' She trailed off, her uncertainty solidifying into begrudging realization. 'I'm dead. I'm farkin' dead. Well, this sucks. But if I'm dead, why'm I so alone? This place is dead even for the Afterlife. Unless…' Not for the first time, she wondered if her beliefs hadn't been rightly placed. If there was no God, no Heaven or Hell, then where was she? Of course, she reasoned, if that was true, why was she even conscious that she existed? Without a body of her own, how could she exist?

Unbidden, familiar words filled her memory in between ticks and tocks.

This is the vestibule to Hell, where those who would make no choices in life are condemned. Neither warm nor cold, believers nor blasphemers—you see them in the hills. They chase a banner they will never catch.

'Of course,' she realized bitterly. 'Inferno—Niven and Pournelle's take on Dante's Divine Comedy. I read that danged book to tatters, an' it never e'en occurred to me. I must be in the vestibule in a lil' bronze jar. Great….at least my fat arse finally fits in a 'one size fits all' container.'* But if I'm in a jar, that means I can get out!' Focusing with all her strength, she repeated the phrase that had been Allen Carpenter's saving grace. 'Fer the love'a God, get me out'a here!'  

   If she hadn't been stuck in a little bronze jar in Hell, she'd have heard crickets; instead, she only heard the maddening ticking sounds. Amber winced, going over the phrase again in case she'd misspoken; maybe her would-be rescuer had passed her by over rudeness? 'Um…please?'  

   Her tiny empty world was sucked into oblivion as she hoped against hope that she wouldn't wake up at the feet of Benito Mussolini.** 

Translations

- "Quitcher whinin' O'Brine!" - 'Quit your whining, O'Brien!'

Up next: "One Life Ends, Another Begins"

                     Notes:        

*Amber calling herself fat is a self-defense mechanism—an unhealthy one. It's always much easier to call yourself fat and insult your own behind, for example, than to hear someone say the same thing about you. Remember, real beauty isn't dependent on your waist, your hips, your butt, or any other impermanent BS like that.

**Waking up at the feet of Benito Mussolini. This is a reference to Niven and Pournelle's book Inferno. When Carpenter found himself out of his little brass bottle, he woke up at Benito's feet staring at his own navel, convinced it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. You really should read the book regardless of that scene—it's a hoot!

[saf-unite]

My name is Tyshenna Phillips and I was born in Greenville, North Carolina. I spent a good portion of my childhood in this area surrounded by many farm animals such as cows, pigs, horses, and chickens. I remember as a little girl being able to go outside with my mom and collect pecans, pears, and plums from the trees in my grandmother’s front yard.

As I got older, our access to food swiftly changed. I moved to Greensboro, North Carolina in the midst of my fifth grade year. At the time it was just my mom, my younger brother and I. We endured many tough times and to this day I admire my mother’s resilience to raise and feed a handful of children without much help. Initially when we arrived in Greensboro, we were able to obtain food stamps which gave us access to fresh fruits and vegetables. However, as my mother’s wage slightly increased, our food stamps were taken away. We struggled quite a lot with food; our diets became pretty homogeneous and often consisted of white rice, Ramen noodles, and frozen dinners. As time progressed, I discovered that many of my peers were experiencing the same hardship. When I graduated high school in 2016, Greensboro was listed as the most food insecure city in the United States. Now I am a senior at UNC-Chapel Hill studying Sociology, which involves the study of social groups, behaviors, and problems. Within this major I am specifically interested in studying and advocating for food justice and sovereignty. Food justice acknowledges that there are communities, specifically communities of color, that have been systematically disadvantaged in the production, distribution, and consumption processes of our food system. In other words, communities and individuals of color experience difficulties in their access to food, representation in decision-making processes regarding food, and obtaining living wages in the food industry.

My passion for this topic stems from my life experiences and the experiences of others I’ve witnessed. I have also spent a good portion of my academic career learning about food insecurity and volunteering at food distribution centers. I’ve realized that food insecurity is just one small issue in our food system. Many people are not aware of how their food gets to them or the type of labor required to create the product we purchase from the shelves at our local grocery store (if we have one). It is very important that we forge connections between individuals experiencing food insecurity and individuals that are being exploited at the production and distribution level of our food system such as the immigrant farmworkers that we are advocating alongside. The inequalities experienced by both of these groups are often the result of inequalities deeply embedded into the fabric of our society such as racism, sexism, and classism. To simply tackle one and ignore the other would be setting ourselves up for failure because they are all interrelated. I am grateful to be interning with SAF this year as it gives me an opportunity to learn more about the lives of immigrant farmworkers and to expand on the knowledge I’ve gained through my personal life experiences and academic career at UNC-Chapel Hill. I am most excited about meeting like-minded people in this organization, the projects I will be working on with the Communication Arts Director, and reconnecting with a vital part of my own childhood. I am a bit concerned about what the rest of this year will be like especially for those from disadvantaged communities as they have been disproportionately impacted by the effects of this pandemic. However, I am still grateful that there are organizations such as SAF that exist to minimize the effects of these issues for communities of color such as the farmworkers we’ll be meeting soon!

– Tyshenna Phillips, SAF Solidaridad intern

[traindogbrain]

The Importance of Keeping Your Dog Mentally Stimulated

Raise your hand if your dog has ever pestered you, following you from room to room with a bored face? If so, rest assured, you are not alone! Boredom and pent-up energy are the most common reasons dogs develop behavioral problems. Most dogs living in urban settings spend a good chunk of their time alone, and the biggest perk of their day may be seeing their beloved owners coming home. This is a moment of great excitement and celebration and can often be too much to handle for a tired owner who has spent eight hours in the office.

Dogs Were Meant to Lead Active Lives

If we look at the many dog breeds that surround us, we will note that the majority were selectively bred to carry out certain tasks. We have the retrievers who retrieved downed birds for the hunter, the hounds who tracked prey with their powerful noses, the spaniels who flushed birds out of bushes, the herders who grouped cows and sheep, the livestock guardians who protected farm animals from predators and several other versatile breeds who specialized in a variety of tasks.

Today, most dogs are no longer used as workers but as loyal companions who are often relegated to the yard or left at home with not much to do all day. This leaves dogs with a void to fill up. The saying “an idle mind is the devil’s workshop” fits people and dogs as well. With little left to do all day, dogs become destructive and may engage in undesirable behaviors such as digging, chewing and barking.

Dogs Need Exercise and Mental Stimulation Too!

When we think of bored dogs, we often think of exercise, but dogs need a healthy dose of mental stimulation too. Despite the fact that most dogs in modern times no longer live in the wild and are no longer hunting all day in the fields with their masters, they still have a strong drive for mental stimulation. This, however, doesn’t mean that you will have to quit your 9 to 5 job, purchase a rifle and go on a rabbit hunting adventure with your dog! There many great ways you can enrich your dog’s life from the comfort of your home and yard to get your dog’s cognitive abilities going.

                      PLAYING THE HIDE AND SEEK GAME!     

Simple games such as Hide ‘n’ Seek (included in the Brain Training For Dogs course) will encourage your dog to engage his brain while also allowing him to get in the much needed exercise he wouldn’t have got had he spent the day snoozing in front of the fireplace.

A Glimpse Back in Time

When dogs were in the wild, mealtime was quite different than what it is today. In order to eat, dogs had to hunt, which entailed sniffing, stalking, chasing and killing. Then, once the animal was killed, they had to work on separating the meat from the bones which involved lots of gnawing and scraping. Even when dogs were domesticated and no longer hunters at heart they were still scavenging for food and their life wasn’t easy. They spent a good part of their days sniffing and walking around looking for little tid bits of food. Their diet mostly consisted of carcasses left over by other predators or food left behind by humans who discarded the less appetizing parts from the animals they hunted.

In any case dogs of the past, whether they were hunters or scavengers, all spent a good part of their day searching for food. This was surely a far cry from the way dogs are fed today! Nowadays, we do all the hunting for our dogs by visiting our local pet supply store. Our dog’s food comes in bags or cans which we then pour into shiny bowls ready to be gulped down, often times without even chewing! Certain brain games can help to re-introduce “hunting” into your dog’s life such as the “Treasure Hunt” game from my Brain Training for Dogs course. Brain Training for Dogs will also show you how to teach the Bottle Game, which is the simplest way to create a suppertime challenge for your dog.

What Can You Do About It?

Problem-solving exercises, new tricks, or simply revamping a training session with some element of novelty are all simple ways you can keep your dog mentally stimulated.

This Brain Training for Dogs course offers 21 cool brain games you can play with your pooch to exercise his brain while adding a competitive edge to keep both you and your dog on your toes (or paws should I say)! Each section has a guide to help you succeed, troubleshooting tips, and plenty of pictures so you can see exactly how to train the games.

When a dog’s needs for exercise and mental stimulation are met, dogs make happier and healthier companions, so next time you think about exercising your dog, don’t forget to exercise that brain too!

FOR MORE FEATURES AND DEEP DETAIL OF THE COURSE BEFORE BUYING IT, CLICK BELOW.

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