#with no raft or anything. If it was 100% wood - he would just have a pile of tree branches held together with nothing

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 8: !!NOTE: this is different from the past polls - rather than choosing a story action, you're picking supplies to craft a little makeshift boat (EX: wood will be the main platform, so there should likely be the most of it, however, if there were 100% votes for branches and 0% votes for rope, then it'd just be a pile of wood held together by nothing - keep them balanced reasonably, etc.))

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

The winning option of yesterday's poll was that the adventurer should get around the barrier by crafting a little boat to take a river detour….

~

Finally crawling out of his hiding spot in the brambles, he meticulously brushes the leaves from his clothes and composes himself, now fully focused on his generic traveler's map of the area... After checking it about 500 times just to make sure he isn't confused, he determines that going down the nearby river would likely still get him where he's trying to go, and hopefully be much less treacherous than wandering through haunted forests or confronting the stern gaze of the barrier guards..

It only takes about 10 minutes of following a narrower rocky path off the main road to reach a nice shaded spot of land next to a small river. He kneels in the grass, eagerly rummaging through his backpack for supplies, in addition to whatever he can scavenge from the edge of the woods. The rush of excitement slowly dissipates however, once he realizes that he.. actually.. might not know how to make a raft as well as he thought... Surely it's quite straightforward, no? Just.. make it look like it does in picture books?? There are no rules, as long as it floats, it works! Probably anyone could build one on intuition alone! ... maybe...???

.. Once again sinking into a cloud of anxiety, he slumps over, staring at the pile of materials with teary eyes, doubtful what to even do next.... How should he build the raft? Help him by using the poll to choose the appropriate amounts of materials (determined by final % of votes in that category)!

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 for gercanmano please?

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

GerCanMano

when I started shipping it.

Maybe a year to two years ago? It’s hard to say I can’t really remember. I don’t know what sparked it, but either way I know it started with my friend Lemon. Either we were doing things with the BFT and I had made a joke about baby BFT with Romano, Germany and Canada and it just developed discussions from there. Or it was me struggling between the three proponent ships and Lemon being like ‘why don’t you just make them a poly’ and like sun coming out from behind the clouds it finally dawned on me by the power of citrus. Either way it was something I kept messing with, and the more I talked about it the more people hopped on board with me. We’re still just a raft in a sea of ships but I made this baby and I’m proud of it.

I will say I have had a lot of people talk to me like I made it, and while I do want to take some credit cause I put a lot of time into them, I have heard it used to be a ship back in the old hetalia days. But I haven’t found any old fanworks of it. And trust me I scoured every fic and art site I could think of. Maybe it was something only seen in RP groups so it never got published fic or art but I crave content for it so if it was originally a thing and there’s content around let me know please I don’t wanna take credit for it fully but I have not found another person who shipped it before they talked to me.

my thoughts:

Literally some of the only serotonin I get in these trying times. I love them so much they make me so happy. An unbelievably strong power house trio who could do damn near about anything together. They have it all.

I could go on for hours about small scenarios or aus with them. Like I’m a multi-shipper but fuck man they’re my OTP. I can and do ship other things with them, but man they make me melt with joy.

I made a playlist for it, I’m still building it but I like ti so far. I wish I could find more three person love songs but for now I have songs for each of the three lads, and the three ships that make up it, so it works! Might change some of them but I like what I have so far!

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLC4nWN-9zrnEOeLgihkaqQOpPO6nEnc81

Germany and Romano: A Lovely Night and If I Could Tell Her

Romano and Canada: Best Worst Mistake

Canada and Germany: Guy That I’d Kind of Be Into

Germany General: When He Sees Me and Little Miss Perfect (President Perfect)

Romano General: I Won’t Say I’m in Love (so original I know)

Canada General: Would You Be So Kind? and Piece of Art

What makes me happy about them:

Literally everything. Their characters, the dynamics, the growth they create together. They may not work in every story of mine but when they work they really work. They push each member of the ship to grow as a person. Germany finding support he may not have originally had, Canada finding the confidence and support in a group that won’t forget him, Romano finally feeling safe enough to open up to others in a way he didn’t feel safe doing before. It’s just the good fucking food. You can put it in different settings and it just works, they’re able to play off one another in a really great way and pull them out of their comfort zones in ways that other ships don’t hit me as hard with.

What makes me sad about them:

That I am literally one of the only people who makes content for it. I have scoured the internet I can’t find anything, ANYTHING. And often I cannot get people to follow me on it, I’ve been getting more people on board slowly but surely but STILL-- That or they really try to push the whole ‘i ship it with (ship thats similar but with one of the brothers swapped out for the other)’ on me when I’m talking about it and I’m just like. I asked for GerCanMano I didn’t ask for your opinion. I’ve thought about the other ship conbo’s with their other brothers, I just like this one the best.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

When this ship is treated as a lesser to other ships around the three characters. People going like well I think it would be better if it was ‘swaps one of the brothers out for the other’ but that’s not the point. Also this is a general problem I have with Germano/GerCan as well but people making it all about their family’s or brothers reactions and how it effects their brothers instead of their relationship. ESPECIALLY between Romano and Italy.

It’s almost always a cheating on their ‘true love’ or some sort of affair fic and it doesn’t focus on their love and living together and more about them bouncing around to avoid getting caught and I just don’t care enough. I just want to see them in a loving happy relationship, and interacting with one another. Prussia, America’s and ESPECIALLY Italy’s reactions don’t matter to me. When it comes to say GerIta fics, there are a few that address Romano’s feelings toward Italy’s relationship, but not all of them. Hell some of them don’t have a mention or hair of Romano, but when the position is reversed with Germano suddenly even if he’s not in the fic it’s all about how Italy feels about it or how it effects him or hiding it from him.

I dont want to watch Germany go back and forth about which Italy brother he likes while dating both. It’s one just not in character and two its uncomfortable. I read this fic for the gercanmano Im not here to hear that Germany’s cheating on and warring with his feelings toward Italy or Canada sleeping around behind Prussia’s back. It’s boring and I’m tired of reading it. I’m digging into specifics of the three component ships cause there are no fanfics of GerCanMano so I can’t talk about what annoys in their base fics.

I had like one person write GerCanMano into their RusPrus fic, which was cool. but then they were a nazi apologist. So I can’t exactly read it anymore. I have nothing else to compare to but the base three ships of Germano, GerCan and Canmano

Things I look for in fanfic I don’t ask much I just want them to exist without me having to write all of them. I wanna find content other people have made, not that I’m lazy and think peopel should make content for me, just that I get bored of reading my own writing. If I wanna be really picky, letting it be a quickly established relationship and getting to see them in the relationship, learning about each other living together dealing with problems together that doesn’t just have them break up after one fight.

Having them in a functioning relationship before the story is over. Letting that relationship blossom past the start or the first date before the fic is finished. It’s sad when a romance story ends with them getting together cause there’s so much more relationship to have-- ;^; what about cooking together and cuddles on the couch and date nights and small fights and family gatherings--

My happily ever after for them:

It’s hard to write a happily ever after for nations or for anything to be honest cause life keeps going, growing, changing etc. But I’d love them to have a wedding and just a calm, slice of life kind of life together. A nice house, a big garden, a pond in the back where in the winter Germany and Canada can ice skate. A nice big garage where Germany and Romano can work on cars, Maybe near the woods so they can all go hiking,

Nothing fancy. A nice place that smells like warm coffee in the morning, that’s lively with sound of loved ones and shenanigans during the day and quiet whispers of affection at night. They get together but meetings are less boring, they have plans with their family and friends. Spain, France and Prussia loving to tease their little siblings/kids about things and make sure they’re doing okay. Veneziano always trying to help Romano come up with romantic shenanigans to use against his husbands. America just being happy his bro is happy.

Just soft wholesome life stuff. ;;

My kinks:

These are going below for discussions of not safe for work topics. I’m not going light so dive below at your own risk. (sex discussion, kink discussion, general ns//fw content)

I exclusively write top Canada. Like, I just do. I don’t really draw or write him taking it, I don’t know why I just don’t. Doesn’t mean he isn’t put under someone’s thumb in bed, but they’re still riding. There are very very few instances where I have written him taking. Again I don’t know why. Maybe it’s just the concept of soft pastel uwu boy slamming Germany into a wall, maybe it’s the thought of Canada in heels and leather just with the vibe of ‘go ahead tell them. no one will believe you’.

Canada isn’t any kinkier than Germany, but he’s more confident than Germany about it.  He’s got a little bit of jealous neediness in the back of his brain so when it comes to sex he loves when his partner’s attention is on him. He loves to spoil and get spoiled and is the roughest of the three. Just a tiny, tiny bit of masochism/sadism. Very small. It’s very much he’ll do it (with safe words set in place and everything) but he will feel eh about it afterward and make sure that they don’t take away that he hates them or anything. In the inverse hes very very good at fluffing people up and body worship, as well as demeaning talk. Loves role-playing, hence slipping into the mind where he’s got the confidence to throw Germany around the bedroom. He loves especially tying them up and just watching them writhe-

Germany is a switch, fight me on it. If you think that man who has very little canon confidence with romance and no experience is a 100% big daddy top you’re just wrong I’m not sorry. Mind you, he can top and he often does, but being rough and demanding and forceful is not something he’s good at he’s so nervous about injuring his partner, even if they tell him it’s fine.

Germany is into all the rough play, like it’s canon. He loves to tie and be tied up and he likes when power is taken away from him. He likes when people push him under their thumb it’s why Canada gets to be rough with him. But at the same time, Germany is the most wholesome lover out of the three. Because it can be so hard to coax him out of his shell with his kinks, he can often be the inverse. Very gentle, very praising. Absolutely loves to body worship his partners. He’s not really all that good or comfortable with giving people blow jobs, however he loves kisses and touches all over. Mind you getting a blowjob is something he really enjoys, hes just not good at giving. Good thing that both his boyfriends are amazing at it. Favorite thing the two do is Canada having Germany Ride him and then Matteo either riding him on top or giving him head during.

Romano oh, Romano. He’s a bottom. The most bottom-y bottom. An absolute pillow princess and a brat wanting to be tamed. He tops very very rarely, and out of the three has the most experience both giving and receiving and with all different partners. Even if he’s bottoming doesn’t mean he’s always at the whim of his partners though, he loves riding.

Romano is the least kinky out of the three, while the other two enjoy being tied up, Romano isn’t really a fan, he doesn’t mind collars or handcuffs but full shibari like what Canada or Germany would be fine with doesn't really fly for him. As I said before, he’s also the loudest, and gets very whiny when left to hang (not like either of them mind the noise). Romano loves giving and receiving blow jobs/hand jobs. Especially giving. It’s how he gets the good vibes of watching his partner squirm in the good way. He also loves to leave nibbles scratches bites and hickies if he’s allowed to. Catch him giving Germany a bite right above his collar before a meeting. Despite what might be expected, he can roll with degradation in bed really well but he falls apart quick with praise. He likes both but he will tear up when Germany gets overly gushy and feelsy.  Loves double penetration and being spit-roasted.

[danganronpa-21]

Meet the Fankids!

It’s about time that I made a blog like this. Seriously, I’ve had these fankids for so long and I’ve never introduced them as a full group before? Preposterous! That had to change, and so it has. Here’s a full list of all of the fankids present in Danganronpa 21 -- complete with appearances, personalities, likes and dislikes, hobbies, fatal flaws, dreams, and other random details like blood type.

Happy reading!

Hope Naegi-Kirigiri: 

The eldest daughter of Makoto and Kyoko Naegi-Kirigiri, standing at 16 years old (April 9th, 2020). She holds the talent of the Super High School Level Costume Designer, and holds positions both on Hope’s Peak Cheerleading Team and on their Student Council. She is 5′6 and boasts 118 lbs, and has AB blood. She is of Japanese descent. Her affiliations include Hope’s Peak Academy and the Kirigiri Detective Clan, though she is notably not the heir.

At sixteen years old, Hope is already widely believed to be living up to her namesake. Cheerful, bubbly, and caring; Hope is a girl who is greatly admired by many for her charm and grace. Those who admire her would say that she’s always ready for adventure and fears nothing, but she herself would tell you that that’s a stretching of the truth. And those who dislike her would tell you a completely different story. They would tell you that she is childish and overly fanatical, to the point of letting it consume her very being. Others might tell you that she’s stubborn and constantly refuses to see when bad things are happening right in front of her. The one you’d probably hear the most is that she’s headstrong, for someone who tattles on others when they break the rules. And in a way, all of them are true, although she would insist that those traits are probably not as bad as they seem.

Some of Hope’s favourite things in the world are mystery novels, animals (especially dogs), pop music, make-up, her family, and craft projects. Her hobbies include costume design, theatre, cosplay, photography, playing video games, reading novels, and helping her younger sister out with mystery solving. Otherwise, Hope tends to dislike foul language, being called ‘bossy’ by her peers and being underestimated overall, her mother’s cooking, her great-grandfather, and generally anyone who has the audacity to disrespect her baby siblings. 

Hope is someone with many goals in life. She hopes to have a successful career in the costume design industry. If she cannot do that, she would like to succeed her father as Headmistress of Hope’s Peak Academy. She is also incredibly passionate about nurturing the world around her, and ensuring that people blossom to their full potential. So much so that she is certain that she’d like to have children some day, too. Her one major shortcoming that will likely get in the way of her life goals is that of her pride. She is often too proud to admit when she’s made a mistake or had any sort of shortcoming, which will hinder her in her journey if she’s not careful. 

She will be the second protagonist in the Danganronpa 21 series.

Sakura Asahina: 

The adoptive daughter of Aoi Asahina, standing at 16 years old (November 17th, 2020). She holds the title of the Super High School Level White Water Rafter, and is the manager of the Hope’s Peak Academy Swim Team. She is 6′0 and 150 lbs, and has Type O blood. She is Japanese according to immigration, but her actual background is unknown. She is a student at Hope’s Peak Academy, as well as a waitress at the Sakuhina Cafe.

Sakura is the primary example of looks can be deceiving. Though she is a tall and buff-looking girl, she’s the walliest wallflower there ever was. She is highly shy when it comes to new people, and tends to stick to smaller social groups (which often leads her to spend time with Leon and Hope exclusively). Still, don’t let this gentle heart fool you. Apart from her reluctance to socialize, she also has a personality of her own. She is adventurous and compassionate, and has been described by others as dependable at any and all times. The kind of girl you go to when you have a problem and need help. She’s not a girl with a particular temper, and tends to be sort of dreamy-minded. The sort of person who believes wholeheartedly in the goodness of the people around her. If you manage to capture a spot in her heart, she will be as gentle and generous with you as possible -- granting you almost all of her attention. Still, Sakura is no manic pixie dream girl. Much like her mother, she is impatient and tends to jump to conclusions. These conclusions can often lead her to being oversensitive and emotional, and creating big, unnecessary reactions to small things. She is notably also socially awkward, and tends to worry about every detail of her social interactions... sometimes to the point of making herself ill. 

Among her list of favourite things is donuts, rabbits, physical activities, the sauna, fresh fruit, her mother’s cooking, and matchmaking TV shows. In terms of hobbies, she loves to bake, binge-watch TV shows with her mother, swim, babysit, quilt, jump rope, and white water raft. She also has a fondness for caring for plants. On the other side of things, what Sakura hates most in life is the fact that some people fear her. That, and a slew of other things. Yelling and loud noises, when others neglect their responsibilities, neglecting proper nutrition, dressing up formally, tofu, back aches, and shoulder tension. She also seems rather displeased at the amount of boys who don’t seem particularly interested in pursuing her romantically... not that she’d know what to say to them if they did choose to pursue her.

Sakura is unsure of what she wants to do with her future. She thinks she would like to continue with her talent; perhaps working with a team to lead them to victory. Unfortunately, her sport isn’t in the Olympics just yet. Otherwise, she thinks she might take over the Sakuhina Cafe if Aoi will allow her to do so. Or maybe be a social worker! She hasn’t decided yet, but likes having the options. She also dreams of getting married some day, but still struggles to talk to boys her age. Her biggest flaw in getting what she wants stems from the fact that she is emotionally vulnerable, and thus more prone to hurt and manipulation. 

She will be the sixth protagonist in the Danganronpa 21 series.

Leon Hagakure: 

The son and eldest child of Kanon and Yasuhiro Hagakure, standing at 17 years of age (January 8th, 2020). He holds no ultimate title nor any exciting extracurriculars, but he does have a great interest in music mixing and DJ work. He is 6′0 and 151 lbs, and has Type A blood. He is of Japanese nationality, but is a quarter Jamaican from his father’s side. His affiliations start and end with Hope’s Peak Academy. 

The number one thing Leon might tell you about his personality is that he tends to wear people out on occasion. Not because he’s an overbearing person or anything, but mostly because being Kanon and Yasuhiro’s son has made him into a very weird person. At his best, Leon can be described as a laid-back, yet energetic young man. He is overall good-humoured and generally idealistic in comparison to his peers, albeit a little more naive than them, too. He struggles with knowing when to take things personally. In spite of what people might believe about him, though, he actually inherited Kanon’s courage and cleverness. The boy is much brighter than most tend to give him credit for. Likely because it is overshadowed by his larger flaws, such as his laziness and disorganization. His idealism frequently leads him to have unrealistic expectations of people, and also produces a lot of ideas that just cannot work in the real world. Not to mention that he’s just flatout irresponsible when it comes to just about everything. The only point in which he shows some competency in being responsible is when it comes to his baby sister, Kameyo.

Leon’s favourite things include manga, dubstep music, electric guitar, wasabeef flavoured chips, the scent of vanilla, and aliens. In terms of hobbies, he likes to mix music, play soccer, go mountain biking or hiking, doodling, calligraphy, playing baseball, playing video games, and wood carving. Alternatively, he notoriously hates homework, nagging, classic novels, whale meat, haircuts, and when his mother uses him as a test subject for make-up.

Leon isn’t someone who has a lot of direction. He’s a pretty good-with-the-flow guy. If he had a main goal to describe at the moment, it would probably be to graduate from high school. Maybe see if he could get a career in mixing music. If it’s not possible, he thinks he might like to become a teacher or a tour guide. Still, his major flaw in achieving those goals manifests mostly in the fact that he is lazy and lacks motivation.

He will be the ninth and final protagonist in the Danganronpa 21 series.

Koichi Naegi-Kirigiri: 

Makoto and Kyoko Naegi-Kirigiri’s son, standing at 15 years of age (February 5th, 2022). He holds no ultimate title, and currently boasts no extracurriculars at school. As apart of his Reserve Class Talent Study, he is choosing to study martial arts. He is 5′1 and 100 lbs, and has Type B blood. He is of Japanese nationality and background. His affiliations include Hope’s Peak Academy and the Kirigiri Detective Clan, and is notably not the heir... he was actually never considered for the position of heir at all.

The self-proclaimed “most normal” member of his family, Koichi would consider himself a relatively uninteresting boy. His main traits include being sarcastic, somewhat serious, and leaderly. He has never been the kind of kid who has lots of confidence in himself, and as such tends to be modest and self-critical. He sports a sort of sophisticated understanding of the world in spite of his young age, and traditionally tends to view the world a bit differently than those around him. Much deeper into his soul, though, there is much more of a nervous boy trying to hide. When it comes down to it, Koichi is caring and reliable, often willing to give all of himself when shown that someone is deserving. Still, this also makes him much more sensitive. A lot of the time, people would categorize Koichi actually as a huge crybaby, and thus rather brittle. In truth he holds a certain degree of strength, but is often overcome by his own insecurity and worry of what others think of him. He is desperate to please those around him, and secretly dreams of living up to his father’s legacy. 

Things that Koichi really loves include novels, ramen, manga, tea, being challenged, video games, his family, and penguins. His hobbies include martial arts (with him being able to manage aikido, taekwondo, ju jitsu, judo, and hapkido), skateboarding, language study, playing the piano, playing basketball, playing video games, and volunteering to help others in need. What he dislikes, though, can be brought to a list of excessive attention, doing the laundry, not being allowed individuality from his parents, lecturing, coriander, and those weirdos who drink milk straight out of the carton. 

Koichi isn’t sure what his goals in life are yet. He’s only a kid, after all. All he knows is that he’d like to graduate high school at some point. He doesn’t really know where he would like to take this whole martial arts thing, but figures he will pass it onto his children. You know, to continue the Uzuchi family legacy somehow. Really, though, Koichi’s biggest life goal is just to have an adventure. The trait that will get in his way? His recklessness and insecurity over uncertainty.

He is the first protagonist of the Danganronpa 21 series. 

Natsumi Kuzuryuu: 

The daughter of Peko and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, currently 14 years old (August 16th, 2022). She holds the title of Super High School Level Fire Dancer, but makes no attempt at adding any extracurriculars. She is 4′11 and a measly 90 pounds, with Type A blood. She is of Japanese descent and nationality. Her affiliations include Hope’s Peak Academy, the Jabberwock Islanders, and the Kuzuryuu Gumi. She is notably the heir to the Kuzuryuu Clan, but after the traumas of the Tragedy, she and her family have stepped away from Yakuza work. When attending school, she utilizes the name Natsumi Kitagawa to protect her identity. 

If one thing can be said about Natsumi, it’s that she is absolutely Fuyuhiko’s daughter. At first, Natsumi projects herself as a boisterous and loud girl. She is ruthless, rude, and has an uncontrollable vocabulary of curse words. She is short-tempered and hot-headed; going as far as loving to get into fights with people just to watch them back down. She is aggressive and disorganized most of the time, and in spite of her family’s lack of real connection to the Yakuza anymore, she is still highly arrogant about being a rich heiress. A little too proud to be a Kuzuryuu, it seems. Deep down, though, she really means well. She is surprisingly patient with those who have earned her respect, as well as loyal to them until the very end. She may be rough around the edges, but truthfully Natsumi’s core is very soft. She is soft-hearted and highly romantic, as well as daring and freethinking. Justice is always the first thing on her mind, and she’ll fight for it no matter what. She loves people very deeply, and is always a shoulder to cry on for a friend in need.

Natsumi loves swords, flowers, any sort of wit, sour candy, seashells, and the smell of the ocean. Alternatively, she is not particularly fond of know-it-alls, her father’s lectures, the Island’s loneliness, and being criticized for her family’s past. For fun, she likes to craft weapons, garden, draw, play volleyball, mix drinks (mostly non-alcoholic... cause, you know, Fuyuhiko’s kid), and surf.

In all truth, she’s not sure that she really intends to take her fire dancing dream to a larger career. She’s considering reserving it for the people she loves, and as a means of showing the culture that Jabberwock developed post-Tragedy. Instead of using it as a career, Natsumi is hoping to eventually get married and have a family. She’s already picked out names for the four children she wants to have, and hopes to spend her time with them as a housewife. If she has to have a career, she thinks she could maybe enjoy being some sort of protector of the people. Perhaps an advocate? She’s not entirely certain. She just likes to joke that her Yakuza background makes her “want to help in a way that surprises people”. The thing that stands in the way of her goals the most is honestly her own ego, and sense of self-importance.

She is the third protagonist of the Danganronpa 21 series.

Phoenix Bartholomew Nevermind: 

The only son of Sonia and Gundham Nevermind, aged 14 (September 18th, 2022). He holds the title of Super High School Level Parapsychologist, and currently boasts no extracurriculars. He is 5′9 and 145 lbs, with an AB blood type. He is half-Japanese, and half-European. His affiliations include the Jabberwock Islanders, Hope’s Peak Academy, and the Novoselican Royal Family. He notably has potential to be the next heir to the throne, should he challenge his mother’s second cousin, Amaris. For his protection, he utilizes the name Phoenix Tachibana while at school.

Phoenix is, admittedly, sort of a strange kid. On account of his sort of strange parents. He’s an eccentric boy with a joy for life, a taste for culture, and the absolute glee that comes from accepting who you are wholeheartedly. Most others use the words energetic, fun-loving, and friendly to describe him. His attitude is, for the most part, carefree. He refuses to let anyone tell him that he’s being too odd, and will try to treat them kindly even if they do so. Not to mention that he is imaginative and resourceful, able to handle himself better than most people might expect. However, the boy is still human. Unfortunately, he’s rather clumsy and extremely gullible. He is incredibly vulnerable to manipulation, and falls for it more often than he doesn’t. His perseverance skills could also use a bit of work, given that he is the type to give up easily when things don’t necessarily go his way. His father’s influence has also made him defensive of his views on the world, and he admittedly has some prejudice towards “non-demons” on account of his parentage.

Phoenix adores all things supernatural. Old movies and plush animals, too. Oh, and any food that’s sweet. Japanese dramas, fantasy novels, and fireflies are also pretty high on the list of favourite things. On the list of least favourites, there’s spiders, the smell of kusaya, seagulls, his contact lenses, and Natsumi’s insistence on fighting literally everyone that so much as looks at her funny. His hobbies include yoga, sand art, fishkeeping, sewing, reading, learning new languages, and making up mythical creatures for fun. 

Phoenix’s big dream in life is to someday return to Novoselic. He wishes to challenge Amaris, and take back his family’s position on the throne. Admittedly, part of the appeal does come from wanting to return his mother’s title to her, after it was stripped following the Tragedy. But a lot of it comes out of love for his country and his people, and wanting to connect with the part of him he has yet to meet. He does someday hope to get married, but he worries that Novoselic might object to his “less traditional” preferences in a partner. His biggest obstacle to his dreams (apart from Amaris) is his soft-heartedness and emotional vulnerability. 

He is the fourth protagonist of the Danganronpa 21 series.

Junichi “Jun” Togami: 

The only son of Byakuya Togami and Aceline Aleshire, currently age 9 (May 16th, 2027). He holds no ultimate talent. He is 4′3 and 66 lbs, with Type B blood. He is of Japanese-European descent (French & German mother). His affiliations include the Akamine Academy for Gifted Youngsters and the Togami Conglomerate. He is notably the heir of the Togami Conglomerate. Among friends, he tends to go by the name “Jun”, but when his father’s around... well, everyone’s told that they’re obliged to call him Junichi. 

Referred to lovingly as “The Mini Byakuya”, Junichi is a child of ego, bluntness, and an overstatement of the value of wealth. He has a tendency to be arrogant, as well, so much so that he developed a rivalry with Seiko over which of them is more intelligent. He willingly looks down on anyone who he perceives to be below him, unless actively given a reason to respect them. Fortunately, unlike his father, he does think a sort of kindness warrants respect. When he’s not perpetuating his father’s questionable life lessons, most would categorize the boy as efficient, sensible, and articulate. He is straightforward and well organized, keeping everything neat and working as hard as he can to get what he wants. Sometimes, he can even manage to be helpful, when he really wants to be. Most likely on account of the loneliness he feels deep down.

Some of Junichi’s favourite things include math games, lizards, the piano and the violin, foreign novels, the night sky, and Renaissance art. He secretly also likes playing in the mud, but he’d never let anyone but Kameyo and Seiko know that. Generally, he has a distaste for rodents, the sight of blood, chocolate, cluttered spaces, eggplant, manga, death metal music, and his own mother. He is all too grateful that she is no longer in the picture. His hobbies are limited due to his business training, but when he has time to engage in them, he reads, plays the violin, does calligraphy, paints, and does ballet. He’s also always been kind of curious about make-up, but neglects this for he fears his father wouldn’t approve of him. 

Junichi’s main goal in life is to succeed his father in the Togami Conglomerate and restore the family to what it used to be. He has no greater goal than making his father proud by being strong, successful, and intelligent. He has already planned out his life all the way past graduating university with a specialization in business, and birthing a proper heir to come after even himself. Deep down, though, another one of Junichi’s dreams is to learn to accept himself for who he is. He’s awfully proud of him family legacy; however, he feels he can’t embrace all of himself if he’s choosing to follow it. His biggest flaw/hinderance when it comes to his goals is his unstable behaviour born from insecurity, and his possessiveness over the people he has in his life. 

Junichi will be the fifth protagonist in the Danganronpa 21 series.

Kameyo Hagakure: 

The youngest child and only daughter of Kanon and Yasuhiro Hagakure, age 8 (March 17th, 2028). She currently holds no Ultimate talent, but as of her story debut, she is under consideration for the title of the L’il Ultimate Medium. She is 4′3 and 61 lbs, with Type B blood. She is of mostly Japanese descent, with a quarter of her background being Jamaican. Her affiliations include the Akamine Academy for Gifted Youngsters, although she someday hopes to go to Hope’s Peak Academy.

One of the biggest staples of Kameyo’s personality is her absolute cluelessness. She tends to have moments of absent-mindedness and is somewhat spacey, unable to always understand the things that are happening around her. She is not always the best listener, and tends to take action before she can even think about what needs to be done. This makes her forgetful and somewhat careless in activities that concern her everyday life. Most would not say that Kameyo is responsible. Still, the girl absolutely makes up for her flaws in heart. She is honest, humble, and passionate. She has high levels of empathy and can quite easily understand behaviours based on the energy they give off and what she knows about them already. She is warm and kind, which tends to help as she is extroverted and highly sociable. Overall, she is just a sincere young girl that others love to be around. She may not always seem like she’s paying attention or make the smart choice, but when she is, you can’t help but love her.

Kameyo is especially fond of fortune telling, dolls, make-up, sunflowers, scented candles, crystals, pop music, and of course, ghosts. She tends to dislike the dark, bitter foods (especially matcha), slurping sounds, being unable to identify where a sound is coming from, and when others compare her to Junichi and Seiko. In her free time, she loves playing baseball, doing ballet, doing crafts, playing pretend, doing make-up, and collecting dolls. 

Given that she’s so young, Kameyo wouldn’t say that she’s someone with a profound collection of goals. Really, she’d say that her big thing is wanting to prove to people that she’s not crazy. That she really can hear ghosts, and that most of the time, the ghosts don’t want to hurt you. She really struggles with the fact that most people tend to assume that she’s disturbed or just a child, and wishes she could do something more to show them. She thinks maybe getting into Hope’s Peak Academy as the Super High School Level Medium might change that for her. Otherwise, she’s just a kid who wants to have fun; she would love to make as many memories as possible with Junichi and Seiko at her side!

She is the eighth protagonist of the Danganronpa 21 series.

Seiko Naegi-Kirigiri: 

The youngest daughter of Makoto and Kyoko Naegi-Kirigiri, currently 8 years old (December 14th, 2028). She currently holds the title of L’il Ultimate Detective, but cannot claim it yet. She is 4′2 and 59 lbs, with Type B blood. She is of Japanese descent. Her affiliations include the Akamine Institute for Gifted Youngsters and the Kirigiri Detective Clan, to which she is the heir. 

Confusing is the way most people would describe Seiko Naegi-Kirigiri. Probably due to her tendency to flip back and forth between being weirdly mature and then insanely childish rapidly. Her childishness shows most when someone first meets her, and she resorts to stoicism and shyness until she can get to know them better. Time will begin to show Seiko as an impish and impatient young girl, determined to get what she wants from the world. She is highly brilliant and confident in herself and her capabilities, and takes great pride in being a detective. Courage and willingness to stand up for others seems to pump through her veins, sometimes something she interprets as her “Kirigiri Blood”. She is friendly, dedicated, and kind. However, this doesn’t always show, due to other traits she possesses. She is commonly described as opinionated, graceless, and tends to speak bluntly about others. Given that she is so young and also of Kirigiri blood, she is frequently disobedient and impatient. One of the harshest things about her, though, is that she holds grudges and refuses to let go. 

Still, Seiko isn’t as harsh as she might seem. She’s still a little girl, after all. She has a child-like love of many things, such as snacks, Japanese mythology, chocolate, pretty rocks, and playing dress-up with her big sister. On the other hand, she dislikes secrets, pickles, green peppers, creepy old men, and being told to be more “lady-like”. Her hobbies include collecting stuffed animals and dolls, ballet, reading, climbing trees, playing chess, keeping a journal, and baking. 

Seiko’s primary goal in life, above all else, is to become a great detective like her mother. She wants to be a honourable part of the Kirigiri family, and ignite pride in her parents and great-grandfather. She hopes to someday open her own detective agency. If she can’t do that, though, she thinks she might want to be a professional ballerina. The only thing that might get in the way of this might be her impatience and spiteful nature.

Seiko is the seventh protagonist of the Danganronpa 21 series.

[jaaryl]

jaaryl (or if someone beat me to it, daaron)

Some answers are going to be based on the rewrite of my Daaron fic which is going to be set during 9.16 (that one day I will get around to finishing I swear lmao).

So, spoilers for that I guess lol. 

1. Who makes the first move and how?

It would have to be Daryl.

Even though Aaron has the most experience dating another man/ person in general, I have no doubt in my mind that he would find it incredibly daunting to even try and proceed a relationship with Daryl. His friendship with Daryl is one of the few bright spots of the apocalypse and it would absolutely break his heart if he scared him off or was rejected.

Since my fic is set during the 9.16 blizzard, the two of them are going on ahead to collect supplies at the next way station and, of course, it has to have the cliche trope of Aaron being all heroic and pushing Daryl out of the way of cracking ice so he’ll fall through instead… all while they are escaping ice zombies. Cue the trope of them cuddling naked for warmth and waking up with an awkward situation yada yada.  

Aaron: [incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out] This doesn’t have to change anything.   

Daryl: [also incredibly embarrassed and freaking the hell out, and just fresh off thinking Aaron could of so easily died one (1) day ago and not wanting to waste what time they have together] Ahhhh I kinda want it too????          

2. Who is the most insecure and what makes them feel better?

Being seen as outcasts still bothers them a lot, even if they try their best not to show it. No matter how far into the apocalypse, or how important they have become to the success of the communities, there will always be those douches who look down on people for being different. And the best thing about Daaron is how leaning on each other for support and having each other’s backs when they are feeling this way is literally the foundation of their relationship.          

3. Who is the most romantic?

Aaron’s the obvious choice with his tendency to be extremely tactile and handing out affection left and right while also giving away huge gifts, like the bike. However, Daryl is incredibly sentimental, and loves and cherishes that bike like it’s one of his most precious possessions, and he also shows his love by making sure the people that he cares about are well provided for. So, it’s for you to decide.  

4. Who can’t keep their hands to themselves?

Daryl is extremely touch-starved but he is also pretty awkward when it comes to asking for affection. Aaron is a mix of very tactile, begging to give hugs and super lonely. 

So, once Aaron figures out that Daryl wants to be touched more than the occasional hug, handhold or brush of arms all bets are off. I can only imagine how bad it will be when they get into an actual relationship.

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

I feel like Aaron has said those words long before they started dating, “Daryl, I love you, but no,” and completely mean them (both platonically and romantically). So, the moment Daryl says the words back for the first time…he is kinda worried Aaron’s smile is going to split his face in half.    

6. Who would they ask if they ever had a threesome?

Season 5: Eric, for obvious reasons.

 Season 9: Paul, most definitely, hot, gay, single and already someone they both trust completely. 

Post 9.08 though? Ah, no one? Aaron is literally the only male character that Daryl is close to lmao.  

7. What do they get up to on a night out?

I doubt there is much to do datewise beyond the wall, even for two bamfs like Aaron and Daryl. Maybe fortnightly overnight camping trips when it gets too stuffy in Alexandria and they need to escape for a bit.   

On the nights that they have the house all to themselves, it is pretty quiet. Just the two of them hanging out, kicking back beer, pressed up against each other, talking about mindless topics, and having sex etc.                  

8. What do they like in bed?

Daryl: when you said “magical in bed” this isn’t exactly what I was exp-

Aaron: *holds up 8 of hearts* is this your card

Daryl: *softly* holy shit

Aaron knows that Daryl doesn’t have a lot of experience in the bedroom department, and is happy to help guide him. I see Aaron as someone who is super into foreplay and body worship, especially on someone like Daryl who needs all the touch he can get and is v receptive to praise kink. As Daryl becomes more confident I do see him taking charge a little more, maybe some manhandling etc and he doeeesss have an oral fixation, always putting things in/exploring things with his mouth so take that as you will lmao.    

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

Honestly, Aaron is pretty hard to embarrass. Like, sure, he does embarrassing things but he’s always the first one to laugh at himself. Things like his over-the-top dorky dances to make Daryl laugh, his celebrity impression of people Gracie has never even seen, or heard of, and she is super embarrassed about when he pulls it out as his party trick, his off-key singing to Disney songs with Gracie and trying to get Daryl to join in (AK can take Disney nerd Aaron from my cold dead hands these people have solar panels and the kids have definitely seen movies).   

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Damn, I can’t cheat and answer with ‘a book on how to build a raft’ or ‘survival guide for dummies’ because they are both very survival competent lmao.

For luxury items: Daryl’s crossbow and Aaron’s knife.

Ahhh I am worst at music questions! I can see Daryl being a sentimental loser and bringing Rick’s terrible music with him even if he hates it.

 Ross apparently headcanons Aaron’s favourite song as “Hand in Glove” by The Smiths, so why not?

11. What do they hide from one another?

Their unspoken feelings uwu (lame).

12. What first changes when it starts getting serious?

Their relationship status.

13. When do they realise they should get together?

There has always been something simmering under the surface of their friendship. From the very beginning, Aaron has been incredibly fascinated by everything Daryl Dixon and Daryl in return has found comfort, acceptance and an overwhelming amount of fondness towards Aaron.

It has just never been the right time to explore the unspoken thing between them. But after the six-year time jump, Daryl is finally in the right emotional place to settle down and Aaron has been ready for a long while. Daryl is confronted once more that the world is a dangerous place when Aaron almost dies again (in the fic) and the prospect of leaving their relationship open-ended weighs on him heavily.      

14. When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Aaron has been run ragged by the worrying he has done about sick Gracie all week (even just a cold in the apocalypse is a scary thing for Aaron with all that he’s lost). He probably got one good day in before his own immune system came crashing down hard. Daryl feels a little useless that he can’t really help him get better so he goes out and hunts whatever bird he can find so he can cook him something at least resembling chicken soup, and distracts Gracie for the next couple of days so he can get some rest.        

15. When they watch a film what do they choose and why? Who gets the final vote?

In this house, we appreciate animated films and since Lydia and Daryl are not really accustomed to the broad range of them they get the final vote. It would probably be Jungle Book (after years of rejecting civilization they finally rejoin it) or even something like Spirit (refusing to let anyone tame their wild).   

16. When the zombie apocalypse comes, how do they cope together?

Do I need to answer this one lmao?

17. When they find a time machine, where do they go?

Try and change the events of 8.02? Saving Eric and having the three of them adopt baby Gracie? Changing the events of 9.08, so Paul lives and Jaaryl can happen? 7.01, so Glenn lives? 9.05, Rick never blows up the bridge? 9.15, so there are no pike deaths? 

Ahhh there are just so many options, these two have such a sad life!     

18. When they fight, how do they make up?

19. Where do they go on their first date?

Out on a hike in the woods, a picnic is involved.  

20. Where do they go on holiday?

You and @boltsandashes have given me major daaron beach day feels, it’s an absolutely adorable visual. Aaron making sure Daryl has the best day possible visiting the beach for the best time? I dieeee.

21. Where do they get nervous about going with one another?

They are still both not the biggest fan of parties unless it is a family event with people they like. 

22. Where does their first kiss happen?

Waystation cabin.  

Aaron makes sure to ask him if it’s okay if they kiss for the first time after they are already in a heated grinding session, the goober. 

23. Where is their favourite place to be together?

Beyond the walls and out in the woods hunting, hiking, exploring ect just like old times.

24. Where do they first have sex?

Waystation cabin.

25. Why do they fight?

Pissed at each other for being so damn self-sacrificing (“Whether we make it or not, we do it together,” remember that, asshole?!)

26. Why do they need to have a serious chat?

Aaron’s first priority is his daughter’s happiness so it is pretty crucial to find out where their relationship stands before it gets way too deep (which good luck on that one), it would be different if Gracie wasn’t in the picture but she is so he needs to know if Daryl is 100% on board with being a parent to her or not.

27. Why do their friends get annoyed with them?

The shifty way they try and keep their relationship under wraps. 

There’s nothing strange about Daryl moving in with Aaron, they are both close friends, right? But what is strange is Aaron turning up to every council meeting absolutely glowing and grinning ear to ear, and Daryl being a super nice to everyone in Alexandria.

Are they sick???   

It goes on and on until Gracie accidentally spills the beans when she excitedly tells Judith that her daddy and Judith’s uncle are dating(not that Gracie knows all the details of their relationship or anything it’s just what she suspects lol).

They probably going to get married one day, and it will make her and Judith related!  

So, Judith goes home and asks her Michonne if Aaron and Daryl are dating, causing Michonne to finally connects the dots on why the hell they have been acting so weird.         

28. Why do they get jealous?

Aaron is super jealous over how cool Daryl looks on a motorbike, while Daryl is pretty jealous over how well Aaron can articulate his words to describe how he is feeling.    

29. Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

When Daryl is being absolutely precious with Gracie, Lydia and Dog. It makes Aaron’s chest tighten and his heartbeat frighteningly fast. Those are the moments that Aaron wants nothing more than to raise a family and have a future with him.  

Aaron is probably being dorky af just to make Daryl laugh, for real not just an under the breath chuckle. Every time he pulls one from Daryl, Daryl can feel his heart expand tenfolds.       

30. Why does it work (or not work) between them?

Oh man, I could write an entire essay on why these two are perfect for each other but to really simplify it: they already have a super strong bond, they are comfortable with each other and trust each other, both relate to feeling like an outsider, both like kids, they have history, their personalities balance each other out etc

It’s one of Daryl’s healthiest relationships on the show I don’t think there are any reasons why not?

[siverwrites]

Fictober Day 23: Solitude Part 3

FFVI x Ghost Trick

And at last Part 3, finishing this off.

Part 1

Part 2

All the many thanks to @azurefishnets and @laughingpinecone especially for some specifics that made their way into this particular piece.

Day 100

Managed to get something out of the garden. Hope to get some of it going again; the plants continue to wither since that day.

Work progresses on the raft. It should be complete soon.

Went fishing.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged.

Day 115

Work on the raft is complete and I’ve stored it in the basement. Best to keep it out of the weather.

Brew test #3: Failure.

Narrowly avoided a fight. The monsters are getting more aggressive.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged.

Day 117

Brew test #4: Passable.

Restocked on fish.

Worked on a stool.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged.

Day 200

See previous day.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged.

Day 246

Fine time to fall ill. Reread another of the few books the owner had. While the collection is lacking it will have to do.

Weather is cold. Miss real tea.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged.

Day 247

Feeling worse. Coughing is worse. Couldn’t get up earlier. Weak.

Cabanela… if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I know you’ll find your way back, but you were never meant to wake alone.

No doubt you’ll find it, but there’s a raft in the basement. I couldn’t help you once. This is all I can do now. Go. I know you’ll find them.

Day 248

Damn fever. Slept all day. Going back to bed.

Cabanela’s condition: unchanged

Day 365

It’s been a year by my count since we fell. There’s no knowing what the rest of the world is like, or what’s left of it. The island has only declined.

At least the fish remain along with some edible vegetation. Can’t say much for the taste, but there’s some variety.

Cabanela’s condition:

Cidgeon sighed as his pen dug into the paper. Unchanged. Every day. It was a force of habit and nothing more. He looked toward the bed.

“Always were one for extremes, weren’t you? Convincing you to get your head down is a task for those who like slamming their head against a wall. Now look at you.”

He continued to watch as pointless as it was until he suddenly stiffened. Was that… A slight movement in his hand? He rose, not believing it, but not able to ignore it either and approached Cabanela’s bed. He seemed the same as ever. Maybe he had imagined it. Maybe he was starting to crack in this place. 

He stood in darkness. It was almost time. A faceless crowd spread before him. Then a single light shone down.

The words flowed. He wouldn’t be able to stop them even if he wanted to. Not these words. Not for them.

One stood out from the crowd. His eyes sought him and remained fixed. He took a step forward to the edge of the stage, willing him to hear, willing him to understand.

He stepped into the ethereal white thing that drew him in and his vision condensed to two small holes. He froze, hand outstretched.

‘It really was a lie.’

He turned in place, guided, forced by the mask. She stood, tall, proud and distant.

‘I should have known.’

He was mute. What was a puppet to say?

Cidgeon tensed. Now he knew he didn’t imagine those fingers twitch. “Cabanela.”

A hole opened beneath his feet. He was falling. Always falling and they were always just out of reach.

His sword flashed as he arced down toward that abominable mask. Not this time. He was here for them. He was here.

Their faces swam above as they fell away. So close and yet so far.

He couldn’t breathe. A chill knife pierced through his chest. Falling into darkness.

Cidgeon sighed. Nothing more. He seemed the same as ever now. Maybe it was a sign, or maybe it was simply an anomaly.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said flatly. And it appeared another journal entry would go much the same.

His fingers scraped against wood. A hand outstretched. If he could just reach… did it matter…

Cidgeon started to turn with a grimace when an odd sound forced him to turn back. A hitch in his breath? The smallest sound in a quiet he’d grown so used to—a yell couldn’t be more noticeable.

“You know you may as well come back, you ridiculous fool.” He grimaced. He told himself he was only letting a pointless hope win, that it would only lead to disappointment, but today was the first time anything happened. Maybe… “Not like you to be this late.”

“You’re late. You were supposed to be back yesterday.”

The lab used to seem a dull place. Now it seemed as bright and colourful as the world outside.

“And a good mooooorning to you too!” he sang as he whirled in.

Lovey-Dove chirped and flew off Cidgeon’s head to his outstretched arm. He beamed at her and twirled around once, smooth as could be. To dislodge the good lady was unthinkable.

“And a very good morning to you, lady bird!”

She gave him a soft coo and fluttered off to return to her perch on Cidgeon’s head.

Cidgeon didn’t look up from his desk.

“There was a delaaay in departure,” he explained as he waltzed over to a chair by the desk, tossing himself into it.

Cidgeon only looked up then to give the feet on his desk corner a pointed look.

Unperturbed, he swung his legs down to stretch them out across the floor comfortably instead.

“Well I can see it must have otherwise gone well for you to come prancing in here, grinning like an idiot.”

“Beauuutifully.”

They were beautiful. Brighter than the desert sun, more luminous than the desert flowers.

They were polite. He was polite. It was all very polite and all he could think was that he couldn’t wait for their next meeting, dull or not. Maybe never dull with them.

She smiled at him as he bowed and spun once, showing off his costume for the show to come. He’d missed that smile so, so much; it almost covered the sadness in her eyes. Maybe when he sang some of it would fade.

He had to keep his attention on the proceedings, more easily said than done when his gaze kept wandering to the prince and princess.

He was overshadowed in that cell. A few more steps… He caught a look of surprise before his world vanished. So close…

The first time he caught them sparring he could only watch in silent appreciation. They moved around each other with an ease that was fascinating. He knew he was outmatched in every way.

His laugh rolled, filling the room with warmth. Her hand covered her mouth as she struggled and failed to contain herself. He took a sip of wine revelling in the sound and being glad that for this moment it was only the three of them. The scandalized looks of other nobles had no place here.

“They were magnificent,” he said dreamily.

“They?” Cidgeon asked.

“The prince.” So much more than he expected. “And the princess of Doma. They’re to be married.” And what a display that would be in time. A kiiing. A queeen.

Cidgeon eyed him. “Hmph, don’t forget why you’re there.”

“Yeees, dad.” As if he could forget when his duties would bring him back. Maybe not before long either.

“Bah, away with you boy.”

Cidgeon felt rooted to the spot. No, this was different. Something in his breathing changed. Was it finally time? He didn’t dare hope.

Away. He was away too long. There they were, standing together, shining against the crumbling ground around them. He leapt.

Arms around him he hadn’t felt for how long now? Jowd and Alma. They were here, they were here. Nothing else mattered.

He fell.

A hand outreached. His face above. He’d always been there…

Cidgeon didn’t dare to move or do anything that might disturb whatever was happening in there now. He was sure he saw his eyes move under his lids. Then Cabanela’s mouth opened. A softly spoken word, barely audible.

“Dad…”

Cidgeon stared.

A derisive snort. “Ain’t your dad and may we all give thanks for that.”

Cabanela had only laughed before leaving with a merry wave and an “I’ll be back sooon, professor!”

Not then, but now he couldn’t think of any word at any time he was more grateful to hear.

Cabanela never felt so heavy. Something soft underneath. An awareness of… himself. Where was he? Then it felt as though all that weight settled into his eyelids and he struggled to open them. So difficult. He was almost tempted to quit. Sleep a little longer.

But that wasn’t… right.

With far too much effort he managed to drag his eyes open enough to squint. There was a blurry blank expanse above him that made no sense. A slow blink and another in an attempt to clear his vision. Ceiling?

Then a gruff voice sounded somewhere off to the side.

“About time, boy.”

Turning his head took a little less effort and he stared.

“Professor…?”

About time? Boy? When was the last time he heard that?

It hit all at once. The airship cracking and falling apart around them. The deck going out beneath him. Cidgeon reaching out. The others…

No. No, no, no.

He tried to sit, but the weight seemed to have redistributed itself across his limbs. He struggled then sagged back into the pillow.

“The others?” he croaked.

Cidgeon was here. He was here… despite… he swallowed. Surely the others had to be. If he made it, how could they not?

“Take it easy,” Cidgeon said sternly. “You’ve been out a long time.”

What did he mean by that? How long?

“A year,” Cidgeon said before he could figure out how to frame the question let alone ask.

Cabanela stared at him uncomprehendingly. That couldn’t be right. Not again.

“…so I searched for him. Took three years, but I fiiinally found him.” And then they found him, but he kept the bitter remark to himself.

“But, what about before that?” Lynne asked. “Where were you? Kamila! Were you with her? Is she okay?”

“What are you talkin’ about, baby? I was in Figaro. You know that.”

She’d shaken her head. “Five years ago, yeah.”

Five…

Another year…

“The others?” he repeated weakly. What had he missed again? Let them be safe.

“I don’t know.”

Cabanela struggled again to rise and managed to get his elbows under him. “How could you not know?” he demanded. “After all this time!”

“We’re on an island. It was either leave and leave you here, or stay behind and look after you, boy,” Cidgeon replied with a sharpness that sent Cabanela slumping back down.

He sought for another topic, something more neutral while still informative.

“What about the world?” He felt he could almost still feel the rush of magic, overwhelming, heavy and crackling. He remembered Sissel’s words. None of it meant anything good.

“I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but this place has only been declining. Whether that continues or not is anyone’s guess.”

“I seee…”

Bad news after bad. He let his eyes wander the room. Not a big place. He saw a tidy desk, a table. A hearth possibly. His gaze wandered back to Cidgeon and stayed as a clear absence made itself known. He was almost afraid to ask.

“Where’s Lovey-Dove?”

Cidgeon grimaced. “I don’t know that either,” he said. “We lost each other in the fall, but she’s a tough old girl.”

“I’m sorry,” Cabanela said softly. He averted his gaze. Sorry for their parting. Sorry for keeping him here. Sorry for making him pick up where he failed again and again. For that… monster, for him.

Cidgeon didn’t reply, but he briefly gripped Cabanela’s shoulder before stepping away.

“Let’s get some food in you,” he said brusquely before leaving.

Cabanela made another attempt at moving and with some pushing and bracing managed to push himself up against the headboard until he was sitting, leaning anyway. Close enough.

A year… Another year. What was happening out there? What happened to them?

What of his other? Did he survive as well? It would be nice to think he was gone now, but the pit in his stomach told him otherwise. No, he didn’t just have a feeling he was still out there. He knew he was out there, just as he was here.

Cidgeon returned with a plate bearing a small amount of fish.

“For now,” he said and passed it to him.

Cabanela tried a couple bites before falling to poking at it disconsolately. It seemed like he should be hungry, but he didn’t feel it or much of anything.

But there was a clear task, wasn’t there? If they survived there was hope for the others. The path was clear. They needed a way off this island. Simple. Logical.

“We need to find them.”

“Yeah, I thought you might say that,” Cidgeon replied. “Luckily for you I had plenty of time. It’s not much, but I built a raft.”

“Good.”

He paid little heed to the worried look thrown his way and tried to focus on getting more of the fish down.

“We’ll figure things out later,” Cidgeon added. “I imagine you won’t be in any condition for travel for at least a few days yet and we’ll need to make preparations.”

“I’ll be fiiine, professor.” The last thing he needed was more waiting. So much time wasted. So much time spent uselessly. He had to do something.

“We’ll see in a few days,” Cidgeon said with a finality that brooked no further comment and that was that.

As the evening deepened Cidgeon insisted that Cabanela sleep. He was tired which seemed unfair in itself. How could he be after a year? Cidgeon only frowned and said that that had been no ordinary sleep.

Cabanela nodded and left it with no energy to bother arguing more. Cidgeon went to bed while he remained awake, staring into the deepening darkness. All he could think of was a void. Nothingness. Waking up to find himself missing yet more time.

His fears lost to his body and he found himself waking instead to a dimly lit room and Cidgeon sitting at the desk. A flicker of relief passed through Cidgeon’s features, but Cabanela was only greeted with a short good morning and more food pushed at him. It was… welcome. It was a piece of normalcy to ground him in the present.

He’d been able to sit more easily than yesterday, but that wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to spend more time in bed, so he shifted and got his legs over the side of the bed while ignoring the disapproving stare from Cidgeon.

After several false starts and clinging to the headboard he managed to get upright on shaking legs.

“Are you satisfied now?” Cidgeon asked.

“No.”

The chair by the hearth was so close, but the intervening gap of floor with nothing to hold onto looked far more daunting than it had any right to.

“Just sit down,” Cidgeon said impatiently. “Be patient. It’s a miracle you’re even alive.”

Cabanela ignored him, made a step and hit the floor. He muttered a curse, heard Cidgeon sigh then looked up to see him standing over him. They engaged in a mutual exchange of glares and after another sigh and eye roll Cidgeon helped him up and over to the chair with a ‘daft fool’.

And so the next couple days passed. Cabanela regained more of his strength. And yet as he grew stronger he found himself falling under a cloud of gloom and he found his earlier determination waning. It only grew worse when he finally stepped outside for the first time for a small stroll around the house under Cidgeon’s watchful eye.

He didn’t know what he expected. The ground looked wrong, withered. It seemed as though colour had partially drained from the world leaving everything to look drab and dreary. There was a quiet stillness that felt far more unsettling than peaceful. Cidgeon said the island was declining. It seemed past that point to him. What had he done?

Over the next couple days he made longer forays away from the house. There was little enjoyment to be taken in this place, but he felt too restless and ill at ease to stay inside. He searched around the immediate surrounding area. He went to the beach and stared at the ocean until he realized he had no idea how much time had passed and went back to the house.

He soon decided to go up the path to the cliffs Cidgeon spoke of and stood at the top. He thought to get a better view of the island, but instead the ocean sucked at his gaze. Cold and remote.

They had to be out there. There had to be more out there. He knew they couldn’t possibly be all that remained. He kept telling himself over and over. They had to be. They had to be…

And yet. Then what?

He’d been gone for a year. He’d been gone for two years. Used. A mindless slave. A tide of bitterness swelled. He was allowed a few scant months and for what? What had he even accomplished before abandoning them all again? Would it really have made any difference if he continued to sleep? At least he was out of the way then. He couldn’t hurt anyone. He wouldn’t be a tool used for destroying lives, causing senseless destruction, hurting them. Feeling sicker with every new bit of information they found. How they could stand to look at him?

His very presence caused them pain anyway. He saw it.

They suffered for his mistakes.

And what if they did leave? If he went with him, would they even make it? How far would they have to go? There was little space on one lone raft. How long could they really hold out? How far before starving? Before dying of thirst? Before simply giving into those waves? One person might stand a better chance alone. Why not accomplish one thing and create a better chance? Why keep him here? Why not… simply save time?

‘About time, boy.’

His vision blurred, making the ocean a foggier more distant thing. Cabanela shuddered and abruptly turned away from the cliff. He should see if Cidgeon needed help. He owed him that much. He owed him a great deal more. He wiped his eyes. And this… wasn’t it.

He stayed in the next day, having little desire to see the bleak world outside. He occupied himself with small busy tasks over the day, things he could focus his hands and mind on. He exchanged few words with Cidgeon through the day, but his presence created an odd blend of reassurance and guilt. He tried to focus on the reassurance.

The day after, the cottage already felt too small again and he wandered outside. He kept his eyes more on the sky than the ground—less reminder of the state they were in now—and made his way back to the beach.

He walked along the shore with no real aim in mind and was lost in what would be thoughts if it wasn’t more of a mindless buzz filled only with the sound of the ocean. Then he caught sight of a flash of blue among the rocks, a vibrant colour that seemed false and dreamlike here.

He quickened his pace, breath catching as the shape and colour resolved itself into an all too familiar bird.

“Lovey-Dove!”

He knelt next to the pigeon and felt the first bubble of real joy rise since he woke.

“You’re aliiive! I couldn’t be happier to see youuu, ladybird.”

She gave him a weary sort of coo and stuck out her leg.

“What’s thiiis?”

There was a piece of cloth attached—by all rights too large for the small pigeon—but then she was no ordinary bird. Cabanela reached out to take it, then stared, eyes widening at the sight.

This pink cloth. The paint stains. He hadn’t needed to see it for long for it to embed itself in his memory. He’d know it anywhere. He’d only seen it briefly in that dim cell, but...”

“Jowd,” he breathed. He looked at Lovey-Dove. “You wonderful giiift. Where did you get this?”

“Coo.”

“This is everything. Come on.” He carefully gathered her into his arms. “I knooow someone else who will be thrilled to see you too.”

Cidgeon’s head snapped up as Cabanela burst through the door.

“Professor!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nooothing wrong at all! Look who I found!”

Cabanela shifted to give Lovey-Dove more room to maneuver and she launched herself off his arm with a loud chirp. She went straight for Cidgeon’s head and settled contentedly into her customary perch.

“Lovey-Dove!” Cidgeon reached out to gently pat her head. “There you are, my girl.”

Cabanela blinked. He wasn’t sure when the last time he saw the man smile was and now there it was, small but present and the second most glorious thing he’d seen on this island. She was a gift indeed.

“And look what eeelse she brought us.” Cabanela held out the cloth. “Jowd. He’s out there, prof. We have to move.”

Cidgeon eyed him critically. “Are you sure you’re up to this? One way or another this won’t be an easy journey. It might not be a journey we finish.”

Cabanela gripped the cloth. “We’ll make it professor. I knooow we will.”

A long silence as Cidgeon surveyed him and Cabanela mounted up arguments. Then he nodded.

“One more day tomorrow to make our final preparations,” Cidgeon said.

“You gooot it.”

The day they left seemed no different from any other, yet as they dragged the raft down to the beach, Cabanela fancied the sun a bit brighter. He stared out at the ocean while his fingers wrapped around the cloth.

Wherever you are, you keep holdin’ on. We’re coming.

[thesmithfamily08]

Summer 2021

We started off the summer with our Disney trip and never really slowed down.  Rob worked tirelessly on the kitchen, right now all the cabinets are in all the drawers are in, all the appliances up and running, and he got the floors in!  Hallelujah! They are beautiful too, I’m so happy with our choices at this point.  We have the countertops bought...but they are booked way out, looks like it may even be into October when they finally come and install them, yikes.  Rob has put plywood down and I put down table cloths so I can clean them off and what not, so honestly it is working just fine, It’ll just look a lot better when the actual countertops are in.  All he has left at this point in the kitchen is the drawer fronts and all the trim work.  We have kind of put a pause on everything though because Rob is officially back to work as of yesterday and the kids start in two weeks.  Not to mention the cost of wood right now is crazy high, from the pandemic, we are hoping it goes back down soon so we can buy the rest of the wood but until then, we wait.  

So what else did we do over the summer, the kids and I did the summer reading program at the library, then we went around and use all our little coupons.  The biggest one was a day at Safari Joes waterpark, which Max and Penny went down the giant slides, Penny kind of ping ponged down the first time so she was done but Max went back and did it a bunch more.  Lily rode the taller slides, we call them the twisty ones for the first time this year too, plus she rode the tube ride.  She was super scared but tried it and didn’t want to do anything else the rest of the day.  It was a great day, stupid hot and somehow we managed to leave without a sunburn so all in all it was a fantastic day!  The kids have had friends over quite a bit this summer too, the girls down the street come over often and Max has a couple friends he cycles through inviting over.  It is hard to believe they are getting so big sometimes.  Our other big trip this summer was going to the river with Robs parents and Katie and Daniel.  Plus baby Caroline was there which was great because we haven’t seen her since she was just born.  She is 4 months old now and almost sitting up on her own.  We all floated the 12 mile on a raft and stayed at a cabin at Arrowhead resort for 2 nights.  It was really hot then too but with the water we managed to stay cool and had a lot of fun, I hope that it becomes a more regular trip.  Max went to two summer camps this year with boy scouts.  The first one was right after Disney like we had only been home two days and him and Rob left.  They camped two nights and did a bunch of activities, archery, bb guns, crafts, etc.  Then he went on another one called Webelos Aquatic camp and that was also 2 nights but it was all about water, they did a swim test, which Max passed! They also did canoeing and took a boat ride around Skiatook Lake.  He seemed to really enjoy it I think he will probably go back next year to the swimming one at least.  The girls didn’t do any summer camps this year but they did dance all summer.  They have upgraded from just ballet to, ballet and tap and Jazz!  They learned a dance in each class and they recorded them.  They are going to stick to those classes for the fall and Penny is also going to add in a hip hop class!  Plus, omg Lily had decided she was going to do soccer this fall...well now Penny is doing it too, so between 3 different dance classes and two different soccer teams, plus Max’s scouts (which Rob and I are the den leaders for) and Max is going to start swimming lessons and hopefully get on the swim team in the spring...we are going to have a busy fall too! I guess when kids are the ages they are you are just busy all the time, it is just part of the life, but honestly I’m super excited about it, I think they are all going to have a lot of fun and I can’t wait to see them do amazing things.  So more about the summer, the kids played in the pool a lot, my mom has her pool open too and the kids and I have gone over there a few times and swim also.  It seems to have been a pretty hot summer this year, like 100 or close to it almost every day.  My garden has suffered from the heat but it is all still doing ok.  I made like 15 jars of dill pickles a couple weeks ago, and I have 3 gallon bags of frozen squash, though the squash bugs have officially done those plants in.  I wish my tomatoes were doing better but we have made over 10 jars of salsa and ate every bit of it!  I have another pile I’m going to make into salsa either today or tomorrow.  I have decided that salsa that has been cooked and canned doesn’t taste half as good as fresh salsa so we are sticking to just eating is fresh.  So maybe it is good my tomatoes aren’t doing great because I don’t think we would be able to catch up otherwise.  I planted 4 pumpkin plants and ended up with 1 pumpkin, the squash bugs moved to them after I pulled the squash.  At least I got one pumpkin though, and it is huge and beautiful so I’m pretty stoked about it.  We will see if it’ll last until October...

So Penny learned how to do a back bend this summer!  Max learned to do a pullover on the bar, and Lily is soooo close to getting it on her own.  Max learned how to land his front flip on the trampoline which he has been trying to get for what seems like forever at this point, He is pretty proud of himself.  So we only have a few more weeks until school starts back up, I should find out the kids teachers next week.  Robs school starts a week earlier than the kids but he is helping with some coursework at the school this week for the science department.  Something about getting more stuff online because damnit covid is still around.  On that note, we have had an almost normal summer, masks aren't a thing in stores anymore everything is open to full capacity, movie theaters and concerts are back, California even opened up finally everything looked like it was going in the right direction....but it is creeping back up again, there is a new variant called delta and I guess it is easier to spread and more serious than the original....and the numbers are starting to skyrocket again.  Kids aren't going to have to wear masks at school and they say they aren’t going to contact trace kids ot of the classrooms...so maybe it wont get too bad.  They are definitely wanting to have a normal year but if people keep not getting a vaccine I don’t know how it is going to go away without killing a lot more people.  At least everyone I know over the age of 12 is vaccinated.  I think we are all pretty ready to get back to normal life. 

[linustookmyjournal-blog]

Dream Journal Entry #41 (1/16/18)

The following is copy/pasted from the google doc...

_______________________________________________________________________

Idk how but I ended up trapped in a mirror. In the mirror, there was a strange alternate world that mirrored ours, except it was completely empty and all of the buildings seemed dilapidated (favorite word) and the landscape was sparse. Brown and decayed. Very post-apocalyptic and dead. Broken glass and collapse. I decided to walk around and explore a bit to figure out how to get out. After all, nothing seemed too dangerous.

I stumbled across a pack of feral dogs. They could talk for some reason, but they seemed kinda dumb. Reminded me of the dogs from Up, but they didn’t have the collars or anything like that. They could just talk. Their “alpha” was a siberian husky with strong black markings and intense eyes. He looked mean and angry, but he was actually pretty nice. He offered to help me. He showed us where his pack lived, which was a small wooden shack. All of the dogs slept in a big pile to keep warm. I thanked them, but I told them that I had to keep moving and figure out how to get out of the mirror world. They wished me luck and I left.

I found my highschool. Class was in session and there were kids walking around, but none could see me. They weren’t in my world. I also couldn’t pick anything up. I wandered around from classroom to classroom and ended up at the video room. It had a slightly different layout from irl. It was darker, too. No windows. I heard someone scream and I realized that my friend (a boy who goes to my school irl) saw me through the reflection of a black computer screen. I realized then that people could only see me though reflections, as if I was standing behind them. However, when they turned around, I was invisible.

I told my friend that I was trapped in a mirror world and I had to get out. Apparently, they could only hear me if I was being reflected as well. He told everyone else, including the teacher, about me. They were concerned, but could do nothing. However, we discovered that I could pick things up only if the object was being reflected. I could then remove the object from their world. They offered to give me more food and clothing, but I told them that I should try and find help elsewhere. Like, go to a police station or something. So I left and said goodbye.

I wandered some more and ended up where the factoria mall would be. However, the scenery was completely different. There were HUGE 100 ft piles of garbage and various objects out in the open. It had a costco/goodwill vibe for some reason. People were living around the piles, and they could see me without reflections. They were scavengers, but they were nice. I befriended two of them, a man (dark brown hair)  and a woman (light brown/blonde hair), both in their late twenties. I think they were married or something idk.

I told them about how the mirror world wasn’t my world, and that I had to get out, They told me about a mysterious ocean not too far away from the piles. This intrigued me. So then I said that I wanted to build a raft to cross it and see if there was an exit in the ocean. They agreed and wanted to help me, so we began to collect anything that could float. Foam mats, wood planks, anything. We taped it all together using duct tape. We even found part of an old car (the shell of it or something) to function as a shelter.

Shapeshifting, I turned into a seagull to fly around and search for more supplies. I found a dvd and vhs player, as well as a ton of movies. I eventually found an old and small tv to go with it. I took these because I wanted entertainment on the raft (???). I think I was going to find a generator for electricity but then my dumbass sister woke me up. Goddamnit I was gonna go on an adventure and everything.

[deku-trash]

Here me out, Bridge to Terabithia AU. Make it sad by having Izuku as Leslie, and then Todoroki as Jess. But like the Todoroki family move out of the city to help with his mothers depression, and out there they meet the neighbors. The Midoriyas. Which I thought All Might would be like Izukus step-dad just to keep the family units. Endeavour is still a shit dad, but not 100% terrible. And so after sometime Shouto is trying to get away from the house, and runs into the woods where he sees Izuku. The other is making for the river, and Shouto decides to follow him. There Shouto follows him to the treehouse where he scares Izuku, and after a bit of getting to know each other Izuku explains what he's doing, and the world he's created. After that the two get along well. Shouto isn't entirely sure about the whole imaginary world thing, but the more Izuku tells him about it the more he starts to play along. And it's essentially the two of them that are the best heroes in the land. They give everyone their own powers that together they decide to call quirks. Both decide that Bakugou Katsuki (Izukus Friend????) would be the dark lord of the land. The major bullies at the school, are the villains that have destructive quirks. Tomura is the worst so they decide he gets one of the most evil quirks. The two pick their own quirks respectively and everyday they go out to their place to play, and it's the best Shouto feels in his life. And then one day Aizawa-sensei asks Shouto if he'd like to go to a museum that has a sculpture display. Shouto readily agrees, and a while later they are leaving. He briefly entertains asking Izuku to go, but decided that for once he wants to do something by himself. So he goes and he has a great time. Later when he returns he's surprised to see his mother awake and up for once, and everyone is gathered in the living room. They all jump up when he returns fussing over him until he demands to know what's wrong. It's Endeavor that breaks the news to him. Izuku drowned in a creek trying to swing across it. Shouto refuses to believe for it awhile until one day Tomura makes a comment and Shouto punches him. When he returns home he immediately runs to the forest. He's running through calling for Izuku when he hears the sound of explosions after him. He runs even faster until he's tackled to the ground, and he wants to fight back before he realizes it Bakugou Katsuki of all people. The other is holding him down and to Shouto surprise he looks sad. Bakugou explains that he and Midoriya had created this world together but then something happened between them and Bakugou was mean to him afterwards. Together the two start to breakdown when arms wrap around them, and there startled to see All Might. The man assures them both that neither were at fault for anything, that Izuku did indeed love them both. They were his friends even if one was mean. After that both boys break down. A few days later they return. Todoroki holds a small sculpture that he created. It's Izuku in the hero outfit he'd created, and Bakugou shows up with the notebook he'd kept that the two wrote their original ideas in. They create a tiny raft and place their respective things on it. They set it off, and as they watch it float away they say their goodbyes.

[figsofmyimagination]

Coldflash PotC AU - Prologue

I really had an intense need to read a Coldflash Pirates of the Caribbean AU and I didn't find much on AO3 (and I didn't look elsewhere, so I apologize now if someone has done something similar). So I guess I'm writing it. Prepare yourself for historical inaccuracies, half-assed attempts to research boat, nautical, and clothing terms from the 1700s, and shameless dialogue stealing from PotC: Curse of the Black Pearl.

I finished writing the prologue before I realized there is a waiting list to sign up for an AO3 account, so I'm posting to Tumblr in the meantime. Enjoy and please share if you like it!

Prologue:

The fog lay thick on the ocean so that a teenaged Iris West couldn’t see beyond the bowsprit. Many deckhands referred to it as a pirate’s mist. It was the type of fog that pirate ships materialized from, looting ships, and disappearing just as quick. Like magic. The crew had been antsy all morning as a result.

Iris quite liked the atmosphere. She had always wanted to meet a pirate, go on an adventure, and never take another etiquette lesson again. But that was the life a governor’s daughter.

“Yo-ho, yo-ho, a pirate’s life for me,” she sang softly, imagining herself as the pirate captain of her own ship and waiting quietly in the mist to attack an unsuspecting trade ship. “We extort, we pilfer, we sack. Drink up-”

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and Iris gasped in surprise. “Quiet, missy!” said the man Iris recognized as the first mate. She found him odd with his bald head and mutton chops, constantly muttering about various superstitions under his breath. He always smelled of fire too. “Cursed pirates sail these waters. You don’t want to bring them down on us, now do ya?”

“Mr. Rory, that will do,” snapped Lieutenant Eddie Thawne. Iris sighed in relief when she caught sight of her father, Governor Joseph West, following right behind the young lieutenant.

“She was singing about pirates!” Mr. Rory said, pointing accusingly at Iris. “It’s bad luck to be singing about pirates while we are stuck in this unnatural fog. Mark my words!”

“Consider them marked,” Lieutenant Thawne drawled. “On your way.”

“Aye, Lieutenant,” Mr. Rory said with a short nod. As he walked away, he mumbled, “It’s bad luck to have a woman on board, even a miniature one.”

“I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate,” Iris whispered conspiratorially. She watched Mr. Rory took a deep swig from his flask of rum.

Lieutenant Thawne smiled indulgently at Iris. “Think again, Miss West. Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to it that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves: a short drop and a sudden stop.”

“What?” Iris asked. She looked over to Mr. Rory who pantomimed being hung by his neck handkerchief, tongue poking out. Iris gasped in disgust.

“Lieutenant Thawne,” said Governor West, stepping in to disrupt the conversation, “I appreciate your fervor, but I’m, uh, I’m concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughter.”

“My apologies, Governor West,” Lieutenant Thawne said. “I’ll go check on the crew.”

“Actually,” Iris said, “I find it all fascinating.”

“Yes, that what concerns me,” said Governor West. “No more singing about pirates, please. No need to antagonize Mr. Rory or the crew.” Iris pouted at her father’s back as he walked away. They would probably never see eye-to-eye on the whole pirate thing. Governor West very much believed in doing what was right 100% of the time. As a governor, he had to set an example for his people, he reminded her constantly.

Iris turned back toward the front of the boat, watching the ocean water slip beneath the keel. She smiled faintly as a lady’s parasol drifted past. How had it gotten all the way out here? She wondered. She imagined the lady wearing a white, multi-layered dress. Maybe it had been her wedding day. She had gotten married on the sea and lost her parasol in a strong gust of wind.

As the parasol bobbed away, she caught sight of something else in the water, square-ish in shape. “Look! A boy!” she shouted when the square sharpened into a wooden raft with an unmoving passenger. “There’s a boy in the water!”

Lieutenant Thawne and the deckhands rushed to the edge of the boat. “Man overboard!” Lieutenant Thawne shouted, rousing the others into action. “Man the ropes! Fetch a hook! Haul him aboard!”

Iris scooted toward the edge while the soldiers rushed about to fulfill the lieutenant’s orders. Ropes with hooks were thrown over the railing, then slowly dragged back up heavy with the weight of the boy and his impromptu raft. She watched as Mr. Rory laid the boy on the deck, his heading lolling in unconsciousness and his clothes dripping wet.

“He’s still breathing,” Lieutenant Thawne said when he leaned down to examine the boy.

“Mary, Mother of God!” Mr. Rory swore. As the rest of the crew put away the ropes and hook used to drag the boy in or leaned over to examine their new passenger, Mr. Rory had the misfortune of being the first to see the ominous sight appearing from the mist next: a ship broken in half and burning as it sunk into the ocean. It must have been where the boy came from!

“What happened here?” Governor West asked, brows furrowed in confusion and concern.

“It was most likely the powder magazine,” Lieutenant Thawne explained. “Merchant vessels run heavily armed.” The mast of the burning ship buckled and fell into the ocean.

“Lotta good it did them,” Mr. Rory said. Lieutenant Thawne gave him a disapproving glare. “Everybody’s thinkin’ it. I’m just sayin’ it: pirates!”

Governor West chuckled nervously. “There’s no proof of that!” But he was worried. He did not want his daughter aboard a ship during a pirate attack. “It was probably an accident,” he said aloud, largely to reassure himself.

As the crew, Lieutenant Thawne, and her father were distracted discussing the burning ship, Iris approached the boy. She didn’t get more than a glimpse before Lieutenant Thawne was barking orders again, “Rouse the captain immediately! Heave to and take in sail! Launch the boats!”

A crew member picked up the boy, moving him out of the way of the rushing deckhands. Her father leaned over her shoulder, saying, “Iris, I want you to accompany the boy. He’ll be in your charge. Take care of him!” Iris nodded and followed after the man.

The boy was placed on a flat area of the quarterdeck, a less crowded area toward the back of the ship. Iris settled beside him uncaring of the grimy wood staining her dress. She reached to tuck some of his hair behind his ear, when the boy awoke with a gasp, latching onto Iris’ wrist and immediately alert.

“It’s okay,” she said. “My name’s Iris West.”

“Bartholomew Allen,” the boy said, still panting in fright. “I go by Barry, though.”

She smiled softly at him. “I’m watching over you, Barry.” He blinked several times at her, clearly fighting exhaustion, before dropping his head and allowing himself to drift back to sleep. That’s when Iris noticed the gold chain around his neck. Leaning forward, she tugged the chain out from beneath his shirt line to find a golden medallion.

“You’re a pirate!” she exclaimed as she traced her fingers over the skull-and-crossbones design minted into the metal.

“Has he said anything?” Lieutenant Thawne asked. Iris ripped the medallion from around his neck, hiding it behind her back as she stood up and turned to face the lieutenant.

“His name’s Bartholomew Allen,” she said. “That’s all I found out.”

“Take him below,” Lieutenant Thawne ordered two soldiers standing at the ready. “Have the doctor look him over.”

Iris remained on the quarterdeck. She checked over her shoulder before holding up the medallion to get a closer look. The gold glinted in the weak morning light. Concentric circles radiated around the skull containing curved and angular symbols alike. The skull grinned menacingly back at her.

A black mass drifting across the ocean caught Iris’ attention while she examined the pendant. Frowning, she lowered the medallion and focused on the object. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was massive black ship sailing soundlessly away. It had wide black sails which were riddled with holes and from the top of the main mast flew a small black flag adorned with a skull and two crossed blades.

Iris rubbed her eyes unsure if the ghostly ship was real or a figment of her imagination. When she opened them again, the ship had dissolved back into the mist.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't  own any characters or plot-related things from The Flash or Pirates of the Caribbean. This has been written entirely for my own amusement.

[langrel-a]

Sara Bareilles: The Singer Who Soundtracked My Sexual Assaults

TW: A whole bunch of stuff, just FYI.

I had just gotten an iPhone (which was promptly stolen only a few months later), and the first album I bought was Sara Bareilles’ Kaleidoscope Heart. It was her newest album at the time, and dammit I was going to memorize every song if it killed me. You see, Bareilles’ music has always had a special place in my heart: she’s one of my dad and I’s favorite singers. I’ve always been close with my father, we go on long car rides together, we talk, we joke—he’s the first person I want to call with good news, and the first person I want to cry to when life becomes overwhelming. He’s always believed in me, in my ability to do anything I put my mind to. When I graduated from high school I treated myself to tickets to a Sara Bareilles concert at The House of Blues in San Diego and took my dad. We were the first in line, we got front of the line passes—my dad was taking no chances. He stood right at the front, in the center, he’s literally in every video from that night.

He’s the first person I called with the news that I’d been selected to go on a paid research trip. I couldn’t believe it, me? A college freshman, a girl who’d never even been out of my home state, traveling over 5,000 miles away? Being on a plane for the first time in my life? My dad was so excited for me, he kept saying that this is what I deserved for all my hard work, that it was proof of how smart and hardworking I was. My dad’s the one who drove me to the airport, the one who helped me pack all of the necessities—I was going to a place 11 hours from a proper city, no running water, no electricity, and no paved road in or out. On our way to the airport that morning we played Kaleidoscope Heart the whole way—my dad and I singing at the top of our lungs to King of Anything and attempting to match Bareilles’ smooth mournful tone in Basket Case. I boarded my plane and made sure my playlist for the 5-hour flight was set. It was almost divine providence that Uncharted played, just as the wheels of the plane lifted off the ground. I was soaring through the air for the first time, leaving the only state I’d ever known for a place I had no concept of. I grew up in a large city, I’d never seen a forest, never seen large wild animals, never visited a place where the sun didn’t set in the summer. It was Bareilles’ voice in my ear that comforted me, made me feel closer to my father, made me feel brave and excited.

I'm going down,//Follow if you want, I won't just hang around,//Like you'll show me where to go,//I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how//To get started, it's all uncharted...

For the most part the trip was incredible. I had never seen so many trees, had never seen a glacier or a moose or a bear. I’d never been in an outhouse or seen solar panels up close. The air was clean and beautiful, and you could drink water straight out of the river. I admit, that surprised me the most. Back home no one would dare drink out of the L.A. river. The mountains were huge, and as the sun traveled from one side of the horizon to the other, the summer flowers atop their peaks shone like fire. I had never felt so in awe of nature, so grateful and so excited. I hiked for the first time, built a fire, warmed my own bathwater, washed clothes with stones and a bucket—I admit I felt like a badass. The city girl—born and raised—roughing it in the woods. I felt invincible. All the while I listened to Kaleidoscope Heart, drew what I saw, and journaled. I wanted to feel close to my dad, to my family and friends back home. I wanted to bring a piece of them there with me, so they could be part of the journey I was on.

I want to let the rain come down//Make a brand new ground//Let the rain come down

When my assailant came, there was no warning that everything was about to change. There were no flashing lights or danger signs telling me that my blissful adventure was about to reach a screeching halt. We were never formally introduced and I had never even said hello to him. All I knew was that he was there for entirely different purpose from my research trip. I was staying one room down from where he was. The building we were in was an old wooden store built over 100 years ago. There was no insulation—save for whatever beehives may have lived in the walls—and the foundation was slowly sinking, making most of the rooms tilt at an odd angle. It was one of only a handful of buildings still standing. The first time I ever came in contact with him, I was alone. I was in the large dining area, looking out at the entrance where windows lined the walls and you could see outside. The sun was low on the horizon, having dipped as far as it was going to go, so though it was late at night, you could still see everything. My back was to the entrance to the kitchen. I had looked back once to see him standing there, but I thought nothing of it and continued to look out. That’s when I felt him behind me.

He attacked me from behind, and I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move, I didn’t scream or shout. I just froze. I kept looking out the windows, hoping no one would see what was happening. My heart was racing, and I felt paralyzed. I didn’t even move after he left, I just stayed there, staring at the mountains. I don’t know how long it was until I moved. I was in a haze. It was as if my soul had left my body, I couldn’t feel anything, I couldn’t hear anything. I was a machine, going through the motions, climbing the stairs, climbing into bed. I stayed awake for hours, just staring at the wooden wall. I didn’t close the curtains, and looking back, it felt as if that day never ended. It’s as if it’s still happening. I could hear him snoring down the hall, and I just kept staring straight ahead. I didn’t even have thoughts in my head. I was hollow, empty, completely devoid of emotion. I had stared into an impossibly deep abyss only to realize I was looking at myself. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, the next thing I remember I was sitting up, putting on clothes and taking a walk. I put my headphones in, let Sara comfort me. Somehow though, it sounded different. When I heard her sing, when I thought of my dad, I only felt a deep sense of shame. What would my dad think of me? I felt stupid, and weak. I kept telling myself that “I’m not the type of girl that doesn’t say anything,” and that I was being overdramatic, it wasn’t that bad I thought. I couldn’t accept what had happened, because it challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. I was rigid in my thinking and instead I chose to blame myself, to bury it and pretend it hadn’t happened. It worked, if only temporarily. It was a few days later, as I was sitting in a tiny room deemed the library that I saw him again. I had my headphones in and was working furiously on my research. I saw the door open, saw him come toward me. I looked back at my screen. To this day, I have no idea what I was so focused on. All I remember is him coming up behind me, telling me it was great to have a beautiful girl around, touching my hair. When he left, I rushed to my room. It was only 5 feet away. I closed the door and put Sara on again to drown out the sounds of his footsteps creaking on the old wooden floors. I don’t remember much, all I remember is wanting to throw up, feeling like I was stupid and that it was my fault for not saying anything. I remember clinging to my journal, my drawings, and most of all my phone. I just wanted to feel connected to something other than this place.

The second time he assaulted me, I was alone, in the kitchen. I had Sara Bareilles playing, loudly from my phone’s speaker, and I was singing along. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the flowers in bloom, you could hear the river right near where I was staying. I had the door to the outside open, and was preparing food for dinner. It was Bluebird that was playing the second time he came up behind me.

And so here we go bluebird//Gather your strength and rise up.

I still hear it sometimes—when I have a nightmare or it will just be there in the back of my mind. I remember focusing on it, imagining myself flying away. I held onto that voice, it was a life raft and I tried to think of nothing else. Then, when it was all over, he told me I had a beautiful voice. Looking back, I would have rather he just stabbed me. That compliment, it was as if he’d taken claim to a piece of me. My voice wasn’t mine anymore, the music I made wasn’t mine anymore, the expression, the emotion that came from me when I sang, wasn’t mine anymore. This time, I didn’t shut down. I grabbed my phone, my headphones, and walked to a bridge right over the glacial river. I was ready to jump. I had been a swimmer all my life, and I figured my family would just assume it was an accident. I was overconfident, thought I could swim across the river and was pulled under. It would be tragic but my parents would just assume it had been quick, that’d I’d been having an adventure and isn’t that the best way to go—happy? No one would ever know, I could end it right there, in the bright sunshine, as if nothing had ever happened.

Does anybody know how to hold my heart//How to hold my heart?//'Cause I don't want to let go, let go, let go too soon.

That was what stopped me. I know most of the songs on the album are about a lover, but with one foot literally over the edge, those words reached me. I don’t know why, I really don’t. Maybe it was the idea that my dad would be heartbroken. That he’d have to identify my body, that he’d never enjoy the music again because he’d never be able to enjoy the memory of me again. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take that away from him. It would hurt him every time he turned on the radio, or watched a certain movie, or read a certain book. I stepped back, and I cried.

The rest of the trip, I couldn’t put her music on. It became something ugly. I wanted to rip the music out of my mind, cut it out of me in some way. My assailant took Sara from me. The only album I had with me, the only thing that could’ve comforted me, now felt like torture. It only served to remind me of what had happened, reinforced that voice in my head that said I was stupid, that it was my fault, that I was a coward who almost took my own life. I couldn’t punish him, so I was punishing myself, and without the music, I truly did feel alone. He’d taken this beautiful new experience and he blackened it. When I came home, I buried everything. I shoved the bad so far down, under so many layers of guilt, and then padlocked it away with so many other bad experiences, that for about a month, I forgot about it. It wasn’t until a friend was raped only a month-two months later that it all came back.

For almost a whole year after that, there was no music.

There was anti-violence activism I got involved in, public speaking and meeting with lawmakers and officials. There was drugs, alcohol, cutting, smoking, and two suicide attempts. But there was no Sara. I couldn’t listen to her music. I felt as if I lost my identity. Her music only seemed to remind me of what didn’t exist anymore. Where was the strong girl who always swore she’d stick up for herself? Swore she’d never do drugs, or cut herself because “that’s what people do for attention” ? I was so ashamed of myself—the way I froze, the way I was(n’t) coping. Listening to her music, it reminded me of my dad. He didn’t know what was going on, not really. He’d seen me on the news, was proud of the work I was doing, but I always sidestepped the conversation about what happened. I couldn’t tell him, hell I couldn’t even tell myself. Of all the things that terrified me, his disappointment was at the top of the list. I thought he’d be ashamed of me, of how I acted during and after. I’ve never told him how bad it all got. He’s never seen the scars that run down my thigh from where I had cut at myself, never heard about how I almost jumped from a building. It was the second suicide attempt that drove me to seek more intense help. I started taking medication, started committing to therapy, I began immersing myself in art and music again. Still, I hadn’t touched Kaleidoscope Heart since the assaults. It was in May 2013 that I first heard Blessed Unrest. It’s a fitting title to the 11 months I had had. I was staying at a friend’s place, I had just broken off the friendship I had with my friend who had also been assaulted. We were dealing with things in different ways and were only hurting each other. I had moved from my dorm to a friend’s apartment for two weeks until my apartment was ready. I was just getting into therapy. The people at the apartment, they didn’t know me, but they welcomed me with open arms. They helped me move into my apartment two weeks later. It felt like a whole new start. I was still smoking, and cutting, but I was solidly on the mend. It was the first apartment I’d ever lived in: a tiny 4 bedroom with five people, all of whom were amazing. I would go to work, therapy, the movies, the bookstore, the comic store—I just enjoyed my freedom, I felt alive, I felt as if several broken bones were finally healing.

This is so you'll know the sound//Of someone who loves you from the ground//Tonight you're not alone at all//This is me sending out my satellite call

Those were the first lines I heard Sara sing after a year of literal radio silence. It was as if a long-lost friend had come back. Here she was, singing to me—telling me just what I needed to hear. Here I was, ready to hear it, ready to listen to the music again. My relationship with my dad had become different. I felt like I couldn’t talk to him about what had happened, how I was dealing with it. But Sara Bareilles? Now there’s something my dad and I can always talk about. I felt connected to him again, I felt hopeful for the first time in such a long time. It was proof that time went on, and that underneath all the trauma I was still me, I still liked the same things. I was different, but that didn’t mean I was destroyed. Blessed Unrest was like a bright light in the pitch black, showing me the way back to the pieces of myself that had changed but still mattered.

Say what you wanna say//And let the words fall out//Honestly, I wanna see you be brave

I started devouring the album, and it wasn’t long until the network of other anti-violence activists I worked with adopted Brave and Satellite Call as a kind of anthem.

I'll get my little black dress on//And if I put on my favorite song//I'm gonna dance until you're all gone//I'll get my little black dress on

My apartment mate even took a liking to Little Black Dress after I spent a night playing it loudly while I cleaned my room. The music was bringing me closer to people—it was connecting me, however tenuously, with others. I’m still very much a solitary individual, but listening to Blessed Unrest, I didn’t feel so lonely when I was alone.

Tonight//Come on, come on collide//Break me to pieces I//I think you're just like heaven

These were the words I heard as I was sitting in a hammock under the tree in my apartment complex. I had just come from a therapy appointment, where I had been asked to take a leap of faith. I had spent my life believing that everything bad that happened was my fault, and that when good things happened it was luck. If I celebrated any of my achievements, I was being boastful and would be punished with bad luck. I wasn’t doing well in school because I was smart, it was because I was lucky. If I say I’m smart, I’m inviting trouble. If I didn’t tell myself I was stupid, then I wouldn’t work hard and I’d fail. I was always waiting around for the other shoe to drop, all the while I was treating myself in a way that could only be described as self-abusive. It’s how I had coped for so long, how I had dealt with life’s problems. I wanted control, I wanted to know how things would turn out before I did anything (it’s the reason I still read a movie’s wiki page before buying tickets). So, when she said to me that the only way to know if stopping the abusive self-talk would lead to terrible or good things, was to take a leap of faith and simply try strategies to stop the cycle, it stopped me in my tracks. What my therapist had said, it struck a chord—it made me want to really put in practice the things she was suggesting. Listening to Cassiopeia, I felt as if my thought process was in words. Why not let the two worlds collide—my therapist’s ideas and mine? Something new just might emerge, something bright and wonderful. Needless to say, it did—her advice was top notch—and it was hard work putting into practice things that felt so foreign, but they changed me for the better.

For the next two years, I continued to grow and change. I ultimately stopped cutting and smoking, established stable friendships, and went back to art. In May 2015 I graduated magna cum laude with my Bachelor’s degree. I had done an honor’s senior thesis, I had helped write policy, state and federal law, had met and worked with some powerful and amazing people. However, coming back home after graduation had felt equal parts failure and relief. I wanted to be near my friends again, my family, the people who had always loved me unconditionally. At the same time, I was disappointed—all of my well laid plans had crumbled, I had no money, no job prospects. I felt myself wondering what my life would have been like if I’d never been assaulted. Who would I be? Where would I be? It was around this time that Sara Bareilles’ What’s Inside: Songs From Waitress came out. I wasn’t looking for it, honestly, I hadn’t expected her to release an album for a few years after all the touring she did, but Spotify recommended She Used To Be Mine to me, and I couldn’t resist. I immediately told my dad about her new music before I even listened to it. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after quitting my first job out of college due to discrimination, that I really listened to the song.

It's not what I asked for//Sometimes life just slips in through a back door//And carves out a person//And makes you believe it's all true

I cried the first few times, I won’t lie. It’s a bittersweet ballad, equal parts acceptance and melancholy. My life isn’t all doom and gloom and I’ve done some pretty amazing things I wouldn’t have otherwise done if something so terrible hadn’t happened. But, much like in the song, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go back and change things if I could.

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back//For a chance to start over//And rewrite an ending or two//For the girl that I knew

The girl I was, I don’t know her future anymore. That was taken from me, all I know is the person I am now. It doesn’t mean I can’t miss her, or think about her. She Used To Be Mine feels like the kind of thing I’d send my past self in a letter, to let her know I miss her, but that ultimately I’m ok, that I’m going to be ok.

I don’t know why the music always fits so perfectly (granted I’m not a single mother working as a waitress, so ‘perfectly’ may be overselling it slightly). If I’m honest, Sara Bareilles isn’t even my favorite singer of all time. Don’t get me wrong, she’s in my top 5, but I wouldn’t call myself a super fan by any means. I don’t follow her on twitter or even visit her website. Yet, I find myself sharing the strangest of connections with her music, with her words and her melodies. It’s as if she’s been there throughout the hard times in my life, with just the right advice.

I still can’t listen to some of the songs on Kaleidoscope Heart and I still don’t sing in front of people. In the last 4 and a half years following the assault I’ve stood up for myself, through my advocacy, my work, my academics, and the reclaiming of the things I enjoy. But, much like I can’t go back in time and be the girl I was before all of this, there are some things I can’t get back. There are also some things I don’t want to change, like the feelings I get when I listen to Blessed Unrest, or the love and support I feel from my family and friends or all of the amazing work I’ve been a part of to make other survivors’ lives better. I went to see her again a few years ago, in the time between getting better and graduation. My dad and I stood in the front row, together. We got Pink’s hotdogs afterward, we listened to Blessed Unrest the whole way down to the concert and back. It felt right to share that with my dad again. It felt normal, and fun.

Ultimately, I want to say thank you to Sara Bareilles. I doubt many people, her included, will ever read this, but if by chance you are, I want you to know you helped me find my strength. Your music didn’t just have the misfortune of being the soundtrack to my assault, it was the soundtrack to my recovery, it was what helped me stop with one foot literally over the ledge, and for that I can only offer you my deepest gratitude.

But hold them and keep them And know that you need them When your breaking point's all that you have A dream is a soft place to land May we all be so lucky

TL;DR In 2012 I was sexually assaulted, twice by the same man, all in the span of about a week. This is the story of how I got better and how Sara Bareilles eerily seemed to have my back.

[kristablogs]

Nine traits that’ll keep you calm in a life-threatening situation

When faced with adversity, do you have the fortitude to keep going? (Pixabay/)

This story was originally featured on Outdoor Life.

The skills you’ve acquired and gear in your pack are often the difference in making it through a life and death situation. But you first need the mental fortitude to survive. Without the drive to survive—and a strong mindset—no piece of gear will save you. The most important tool to bring along is mental toughness. Having a survivalist mentality (the will to live no matter how difficult the adversity) is multi-faceted. There are hidden hazards abound, but also remedies that can help us recover our advantages and get home safe to our families.

1. Tenacity

Whether you call it intestinal fortitude, tenacity, or grit, this facet of your survival mindset is all about endurance. Can you hang in there even when your hope has failed?

Tenacity doesn’t have anything to do with physical toughness or stamina. It’s a manifestation of the strength of your will and the toughness of your mind. A truly tenacious person will push themselves to tolerate the intolerable, suffer through the insufferable, and survive the situation that no one expected them to survive. It’s all about overcoming your inner weaknesses and fighting your desire to give up.

The problem: A number of things can wreck your innate tenacity, but the one that worries me the most is declining mental health. In a lengthy wilderness survival setting or in the wake of a major disaster, it’s hard enough just to stay alive, let alone endure feelings of anxiety or depression, or suicidal thoughts.

The remedy: Emergencies can turn any given day (or week, month, or year) into one of the worst times of your life, so don’t be surprised when you’re not at 100 percent of your normal mental faculties. Once you factor in the stress, worry, fatigue, injury, dehydration, and lack of sound sleep you’ll likely experience during an emergency, it makes sense that anyone would be struggling inside. Now that you know this, you’ll want to watch yourself and your companions for signs of anxiety, depression, anger, frustration, hyperactivity, guilt, suicidal talk, and irrational behavior. Since professional mental health care and the right medicines are unlikely to be available in austere settings or major disasters, you’ll need to do whatever you can for each other. Talk it out, as much as you can, and find ways to cope until the situation improves.

2. Adaptability

Adaptability is one of the crown jewels of the survival mindset. To be adaptable, you must be able to change along with changing events, situations, and environments. It’s all about flexibility and trying new options. If you get lost in the woods one afternoon, you may not make it home to your own bed. An adaptable person will assess the situation and realize that their bed isn’t an option, so they’ll have to find a new place to sleep. Since there’s no water faucet in the wild, they’ll find a new source of water. There’s no fridge either, so they’ll find a new source of food. These substitutions may not be as good as they would like, but they’ll be good enough for now. An adaptable survivor can embrace change while recognizing the things that are worth continuing and the things that need to be abandoned.

The problem: What can prevent you from adapting? Stubbornness can do it. Sometimes we think of stubbornness as a good thing (confusing it with tenacity), but it’s often a stumbling block. It’s a refusal to adapt and a rejection of new things. When you’ve driven around town 10 times and still can’t find the building you need, but refuse to ask for directions, that’s stubbornness. When you keep throwing lit matches at the same crappy wet tipi fire lay, that’s also stubbornness.

The remedy: Check your ego at the door and try something new. Stubbornness is like trying to break down a brick wall with your head. After the first strike, you realize it’s not going to work, but you keep going down the path to self-destruction. Instead of stubbornly repeating the same thing, try some new approaches. Change isn’t all bad, and you might be surprised how well something new will work.

3. Work ethic

Your work ethic plays a major role in your survival mindset. Survival is hard work—that’s why we don’t choose to do it as a “day job” anymore. When thrust into an emergency that requires hard toil, lazy people are naturally going to suffer. Thankfully, your work ethic can be built up over time (if you survive your initial bout of laziness), and you’ll be wiser for the wear and tear. Experience is a hard but effective teacher, showing us the value of working harder next time. To build a strong work ethic, you’ll have to learn to stick with a job until it gets done.

The problem: Your work ethic can certainly be hampered by factors beyond your control, like a physical injury, emotional distress, or mental issues. But one thing you can address is laziness. By making a habit of skipping the chores that you don’t want to do and taking shortcuts, laziness can ruin your work ethic (and your outcome).

The remedy: You’ll have to work hard to build your shelter, drag in firewood, and haul water, but it’s important that you do these hard jobs and see them through to completion. Survival is not a vacation from work. In fact, it’s probably going to be the hardest work you’ll ever do. Skip the shortcuts. Take an honest look at your workload, and then get it done. Don’t be lazy.

4. Creativity

Adaptability is key when you are lost in the backcountry. Put ego aside, and do what you need to survive. (Pixabay/)

Humans make stuff. We make fire, metal, airplanes, and iPhones—and sometimes we even make our own problems. This innate creativity usually benefits us, enabling us to devise ingenious solutions to our problems (in daily life and in emergencies).

The problem: A fear of failure can ruin someone’s natural creativity. This form of fear is different from normal fear (like being afraid of a dangerous thing). It may stem from childhood, when hyper-critical adults damaged your confidence. It may also arise from a reluctance to disappoint others or to admit that there are limits to your abilities.

The remedy: Forget about permission and reassurance. Don’t beat yourself up if you fail sometimes—everyone does. When you see something that you can do and you think it might work, be confident and give it a try. Confidence can unlock your creativity, and creativity can save the day.

5. Positivity

Just because everyone cites a positive mental attitude as a beneficial survival trait doesn’t mean you should discount it. In fact, you should pay even closer attention to the topic. I like to explain positivity to my classes as a lens that you look through. It’s a little like “beer goggles,” except that it doesn’t make everyone a “perfect 10” on the attractiveness scale. Instead, it allows you to see the brighter side of a situation. This is a hard skill to master, but it’s worth the work. Your attitude is vital to keep up morale. And this upbeat attitude isn’t just handy when you’re lost in the wilds: you can use it every day.

The problem: Pessimism is the outlook that can ruin your positive attitude. Whether you’re a lifelong “glass half-empty” person or an emergency is starting to wear on you, this destructive viewpoint can make any situation feel worse than it is and can negatively impact your outcome.

The remedy: How can you cure pessimism? I recommend an attitude of gratitude. Find the “silver linings” in your situation, and be truly grateful for them. Do you have air to breathe? Be grateful for it. Are you uninjured? Be glad about it. Even in the worst settings, you can find things that ARE going your way. If you’re grateful for them, it can change your whole attitude.

6. Acceptance

When you’re in a tough situation, you may just have to accept it. It’s only natural to resist and deny an ugly revelation or a frightening scenario, but this knee-jerk reaction to fight reality is a mistake. Acceptance doesn’t mean that we like the circumstances around us or want them to continue. Instead, it means that we recognize their reality and understand that we can't change them right now.

The problem: Denial is a powerful opponent to acceptance. When we refuse to admit there is a problem or deny the severity of our troubles, we’re just kidding ourselves. And if we act on this false reality instead of what’s really happening, we could end up making things worse.

The remedy: It takes hard work to accept an unhappy truth or a dire situation. You may be tempted to equate acceptance with surrender or apathy, but they aren’t the same. You’re not giving up or giving in when you accept a situation, you’re simply facing the facts (for now, at least). Acceptance doesn’t mean that things are going to stay bad forever. It just means that you’re being honest about the trouble you’re facing right now. My favorite example of acceptance comes from the book Adrift, by Steven Callahan. He was alone on a raft in the Atlantic Ocean for over two months, and at a certain point, he accepted his fate. There was nothing he could do about being on the raft (other than jump out of it), so he accepted that “raft life” was his new life. This let him focus on surviving as he drifted across the ocean, and he ended up covering 1,800 nautical miles before he was rescued.

7. Humor

Police officers, soldiers, firefighters and other folks in high-stress, life-threatening jobs sometimes use “gallows humor” to push through bad days. (Pixabay/)

I’m not talking about clowns and slapstick comedy. I’m talking about the other kind of humor—dark and bitter. It may surprise you, but humor does play a role in human psychology and survival. Sometimes called “gallows humor,” this grim sense of comedy was used by our ancestors as both a weapon and a shield. And it’s still used today. Most of our soldiers, police, firefighters, and EMTs know this type of humor very well. It helps them push through the bad days. No, not everything is a joke, but there is some value in identifying irony where you can.

The problem: The human mind is complex, and so is the array of emergencies that could befall us. There are some heartbreaking situations when humor is inappropriate and impossible.

The remedy: Even when someone is in the depths of depression, if you give them enough time and find the right approach, humor can be therapeutic. Satire, irony, and other forms of dark humor may be able to cut through the fog of stress and enhance their brain chemistry, recalibrating their pleasure-reward center and lifting depression and anxiety.

8. Bravery

How do we explain bravery? It’s not a lack of fear. Instead, it’s more like a conquest of fear. Fear and bravery are not opposites—in fact, they coexist. When a situation isn’t dangerous or frightening, there’s no need for bravery and no condition for it to exist. We have to be afraid before we can be brave.

The poison: When we’re too frightened to even think clearly, there’s no room for logic or bravery. There’s only room for panic. This fear response can be described as an unrestrained and all-consuming fear. It’s a common response in emergencies, and it can manifest in several ways. You may engage in frantic behavior or stand frozen in fear. You may even become overwhelmed by emotion, screaming or crying inconsolably. Any of these responses could get you into more trouble, and then you’ll have a whole new set of problems. But if you can use your fear as a tool and hold panic at bay, then you’ll be the master of your fear (and not the other way around).

The remedy: Accept your fears. Fear is our natural instinct to avoid dangerous things, and it keeps us out of harm’s way. If you can own your fear and keep it under control, it will start working for you.

9. Motivation

What motivates a person to stay alive when everything has gone wrong? Many survival stories speak of the survivor’s devotion to their religion, or to a higher power that motivated them and gave them hope. Other survivors have told of their intense desire to get back to family, friends, and loved ones. What would motivate you to stay alive in a survival emergency? It’s different for every person.

The problem: Hopelessness is the kryptonite to your superpower of motivation. When a person loses hope that they will be saved and reunited with loved ones, their desire to keep going begins to dwindle. When a person believes that God has abandoned them, hope dies another death. In short, when the thing that normally motivates you begins to lose its strength, you are in a bad situation indeed.

The remedy: Dig deep. Keep thinking about the things and people you value most. It may take a combined effort from many facets of your survival mindset to put you back on the path to survival, but a positive attitude and tenacity can help restore your will to live. Top them off with your faith in something bigger than yourself, and you might find your motivation returning.

[scootoaster]

Nine traits that’ll keep you calm in a life-threatening situation

When faced with adversity, do you have the fortitude to keep going? (Pixabay/)

This story was originally featured on Outdoor Life.

The skills you’ve acquired and gear in your pack are often the difference in making it through a life and death situation. But you first need the mental fortitude to survive. Without the drive to survive—and a strong mindset—no piece of gear will save you. The most important tool to bring along is mental toughness. Having a survivalist mentality (the will to live no matter how difficult the adversity) is multi-faceted. There are hidden hazards abound, but also remedies that can help us recover our advantages and get home safe to our families.

1. Tenacity

Whether you call it intestinal fortitude, tenacity, or grit, this facet of your survival mindset is all about endurance. Can you hang in there even when your hope has failed?

Tenacity doesn’t have anything to do with physical toughness or stamina. It’s a manifestation of the strength of your will and the toughness of your mind. A truly tenacious person will push themselves to tolerate the intolerable, suffer through the insufferable, and survive the situation that no one expected them to survive. It’s all about overcoming your inner weaknesses and fighting your desire to give up.

The problem: A number of things can wreck your innate tenacity, but the one that worries me the most is declining mental health. In a lengthy wilderness survival setting or in the wake of a major disaster, it’s hard enough just to stay alive, let alone endure feelings of anxiety or depression, or suicidal thoughts.

The remedy: Emergencies can turn any given day (or week, month, or year) into one of the worst times of your life, so don’t be surprised when you’re not at 100 percent of your normal mental faculties. Once you factor in the stress, worry, fatigue, injury, dehydration, and lack of sound sleep you’ll likely experience during an emergency, it makes sense that anyone would be struggling inside. Now that you know this, you’ll want to watch yourself and your companions for signs of anxiety, depression, anger, frustration, hyperactivity, guilt, suicidal talk, and irrational behavior. Since professional mental health care and the right medicines are unlikely to be available in austere settings or major disasters, you’ll need to do whatever you can for each other. Talk it out, as much as you can, and find ways to cope until the situation improves.

2. Adaptability

Adaptability is one of the crown jewels of the survival mindset. To be adaptable, you must be able to change along with changing events, situations, and environments. It’s all about flexibility and trying new options. If you get lost in the woods one afternoon, you may not make it home to your own bed. An adaptable person will assess the situation and realize that their bed isn’t an option, so they’ll have to find a new place to sleep. Since there’s no water faucet in the wild, they’ll find a new source of water. There’s no fridge either, so they’ll find a new source of food. These substitutions may not be as good as they would like, but they’ll be good enough for now. An adaptable survivor can embrace change while recognizing the things that are worth continuing and the things that need to be abandoned.

The problem: What can prevent you from adapting? Stubbornness can do it. Sometimes we think of stubbornness as a good thing (confusing it with tenacity), but it’s often a stumbling block. It’s a refusal to adapt and a rejection of new things. When you’ve driven around town 10 times and still can’t find the building you need, but refuse to ask for directions, that’s stubbornness. When you keep throwing lit matches at the same crappy wet tipi fire lay, that’s also stubbornness.

The remedy: Check your ego at the door and try something new. Stubbornness is like trying to break down a brick wall with your head. After the first strike, you realize it’s not going to work, but you keep going down the path to self-destruction. Instead of stubbornly repeating the same thing, try some new approaches. Change isn’t all bad, and you might be surprised how well something new will work.

3. Work ethic

Your work ethic plays a major role in your survival mindset. Survival is hard work—that’s why we don’t choose to do it as a “day job” anymore. When thrust into an emergency that requires hard toil, lazy people are naturally going to suffer. Thankfully, your work ethic can be built up over time (if you survive your initial bout of laziness), and you’ll be wiser for the wear and tear. Experience is a hard but effective teacher, showing us the value of working harder next time. To build a strong work ethic, you’ll have to learn to stick with a job until it gets done.

The problem: Your work ethic can certainly be hampered by factors beyond your control, like a physical injury, emotional distress, or mental issues. But one thing you can address is laziness. By making a habit of skipping the chores that you don’t want to do and taking shortcuts, laziness can ruin your work ethic (and your outcome).

The remedy: You’ll have to work hard to build your shelter, drag in firewood, and haul water, but it’s important that you do these hard jobs and see them through to completion. Survival is not a vacation from work. In fact, it’s probably going to be the hardest work you’ll ever do. Skip the shortcuts. Take an honest look at your workload, and then get it done. Don’t be lazy.

4. Creativity

Adaptability is key when you are lost in the backcountry. Put ego aside, and do what you need to survive. (Pixabay/)

Humans make stuff. We make fire, metal, airplanes, and iPhones—and sometimes we even make our own problems. This innate creativity usually benefits us, enabling us to devise ingenious solutions to our problems (in daily life and in emergencies).

The problem: A fear of failure can ruin someone’s natural creativity. This form of fear is different from normal fear (like being afraid of a dangerous thing). It may stem from childhood, when hyper-critical adults damaged your confidence. It may also arise from a reluctance to disappoint others or to admit that there are limits to your abilities.

The remedy: Forget about permission and reassurance. Don’t beat yourself up if you fail sometimes—everyone does. When you see something that you can do and you think it might work, be confident and give it a try. Confidence can unlock your creativity, and creativity can save the day.

5. Positivity

Just because everyone cites a positive mental attitude as a beneficial survival trait doesn’t mean you should discount it. In fact, you should pay even closer attention to the topic. I like to explain positivity to my classes as a lens that you look through. It’s a little like “beer goggles,” except that it doesn’t make everyone a “perfect 10” on the attractiveness scale. Instead, it allows you to see the brighter side of a situation. This is a hard skill to master, but it’s worth the work. Your attitude is vital to keep up morale. And this upbeat attitude isn’t just handy when you’re lost in the wilds: you can use it every day.

The problem: Pessimism is the outlook that can ruin your positive attitude. Whether you’re a lifelong “glass half-empty” person or an emergency is starting to wear on you, this destructive viewpoint can make any situation feel worse than it is and can negatively impact your outcome.

The remedy: How can you cure pessimism? I recommend an attitude of gratitude. Find the “silver linings” in your situation, and be truly grateful for them. Do you have air to breathe? Be grateful for it. Are you uninjured? Be glad about it. Even in the worst settings, you can find things that ARE going your way. If you’re grateful for them, it can change your whole attitude.

6. Acceptance

When you’re in a tough situation, you may just have to accept it. It’s only natural to resist and deny an ugly revelation or a frightening scenario, but this knee-jerk reaction to fight reality is a mistake. Acceptance doesn’t mean that we like the circumstances around us or want them to continue. Instead, it means that we recognize their reality and understand that we can't change them right now.

The problem: Denial is a powerful opponent to acceptance. When we refuse to admit there is a problem or deny the severity of our troubles, we’re just kidding ourselves. And if we act on this false reality instead of what’s really happening, we could end up making things worse.

The remedy: It takes hard work to accept an unhappy truth or a dire situation. You may be tempted to equate acceptance with surrender or apathy, but they aren’t the same. You’re not giving up or giving in when you accept a situation, you’re simply facing the facts (for now, at least). Acceptance doesn’t mean that things are going to stay bad forever. It just means that you’re being honest about the trouble you’re facing right now. My favorite example of acceptance comes from the book Adrift, by Steven Callahan. He was alone on a raft in the Atlantic Ocean for over two months, and at a certain point, he accepted his fate. There was nothing he could do about being on the raft (other than jump out of it), so he accepted that “raft life” was his new life. This let him focus on surviving as he drifted across the ocean, and he ended up covering 1,800 nautical miles before he was rescued.

7. Humor

Police officers, soldiers, firefighters and other folks in high-stress, life-threatening jobs sometimes use “gallows humor” to push through bad days. (Pixabay/)

I’m not talking about clowns and slapstick comedy. I’m talking about the other kind of humor—dark and bitter. It may surprise you, but humor does play a role in human psychology and survival. Sometimes called “gallows humor,” this grim sense of comedy was used by our ancestors as both a weapon and a shield. And it’s still used today. Most of our soldiers, police, firefighters, and EMTs know this type of humor very well. It helps them push through the bad days. No, not everything is a joke, but there is some value in identifying irony where you can.

The problem: The human mind is complex, and so is the array of emergencies that could befall us. There are some heartbreaking situations when humor is inappropriate and impossible.

The remedy: Even when someone is in the depths of depression, if you give them enough time and find the right approach, humor can be therapeutic. Satire, irony, and other forms of dark humor may be able to cut through the fog of stress and enhance their brain chemistry, recalibrating their pleasure-reward center and lifting depression and anxiety.

8. Bravery

How do we explain bravery? It’s not a lack of fear. Instead, it’s more like a conquest of fear. Fear and bravery are not opposites—in fact, they coexist. When a situation isn’t dangerous or frightening, there’s no need for bravery and no condition for it to exist. We have to be afraid before we can be brave.

The poison: When we’re too frightened to even think clearly, there’s no room for logic or bravery. There’s only room for panic. This fear response can be described as an unrestrained and all-consuming fear. It’s a common response in emergencies, and it can manifest in several ways. You may engage in frantic behavior or stand frozen in fear. You may even become overwhelmed by emotion, screaming or crying inconsolably. Any of these responses could get you into more trouble, and then you’ll have a whole new set of problems. But if you can use your fear as a tool and hold panic at bay, then you’ll be the master of your fear (and not the other way around).

The remedy: Accept your fears. Fear is our natural instinct to avoid dangerous things, and it keeps us out of harm’s way. If you can own your fear and keep it under control, it will start working for you.

9. Motivation

What motivates a person to stay alive when everything has gone wrong? Many survival stories speak of the survivor’s devotion to their religion, or to a higher power that motivated them and gave them hope. Other survivors have told of their intense desire to get back to family, friends, and loved ones. What would motivate you to stay alive in a survival emergency? It’s different for every person.

The problem: Hopelessness is the kryptonite to your superpower of motivation. When a person loses hope that they will be saved and reunited with loved ones, their desire to keep going begins to dwindle. When a person believes that God has abandoned them, hope dies another death. In short, when the thing that normally motivates you begins to lose its strength, you are in a bad situation indeed.

The remedy: Dig deep. Keep thinking about the things and people you value most. It may take a combined effort from many facets of your survival mindset to put you back on the path to survival, but a positive attitude and tenacity can help restore your will to live. Top them off with your faith in something bigger than yourself, and you might find your motivation returning.

[sephirotha]

100 Question Writing Meme (Part 2)

Original Blank Meme: https://www.deviantart.com/memeheaven/art/Blank-100-Question-Writing-Meme-689367135

1.     Stella (OC for FFXV)

2.     Valkyrie (Originally OC for FFVII but she’s become her own character)

3.     Mikael (Original)

4.     Anne (OC for FFVII)

5.     Xeann (Originally OC for Kingdom Hearts but she’s become her own character)

6.     Zerenity (Originally OC for Pokémon but she’s become her own character)

7.     Erik (Original)

8.     Morphen (Original)

9.     Nightmare (Original)

10.  Zariel (Original)

 Okay, but what if 9 was a nude model for the aforementioned art class?

Nightmare would get way into it, Zerenity would want to bleach her eyes and Stella has had enough trauma that she’s going to just keep painting, not really being there.

 How is 4 with babies? If they found a lost baby somewhere dangerous, explain their course of action. (Would they adopt the child/call the police/take care of it until someone else could take it/ignore it/etc)

I think Anne would be a decent mother.  She would probably call the police if she found a baby alone and take care of it until the rightful parents come to collect the child.  She probably might not adopt since she’s still young with dreams of becoming a blacksmith, and children shouldn’t be in a smithy.

 5 and 6 share the same birthday! How would they react to this? Would either one want to be the center of attention?

You know, in the original universe I put them in, they are actually related.  So Xeann would insist to host a birthday party to celebrate both her and Zerenity’s birthdays and it would be a huge family occasion.  Xeann would be used to being the centre of the attention and Zerenity would probably want to stay away from the limelight.

 3 is suddenly shrunk down to be six inches tall. How do (any of) the other characters react? Does anyone try to help them? Or hurt them? Or do they just get relentlessly made fun of?

Poor Mikael!  Well, Val would definitely make fun of him for a while but will try to help him out.  Nightmare would see him as a possible form of entertainment for a good day or two.

 8 is 10’s biggest fan. How do they show this? (Nice letters/Gifts/Creepy stalker-esque midnight visits/Etc)

Out of character for Morphen but if he were to show his admiration for Zariel, he might try to turn her into a man (using some demonic magic or something) so he can fuck her.  Yeah, if you read part one, you might remember Morphen being sexist, his sexism goes as far as him not wanting to touch a woman.  He’s horrible, I know.

 2 is walking in the woods, alone and late at night. They hear some spooky sounds coming from the bushes around them. What do they do? What was in the bushes? And why were they out so late anyway?

Val would punch whatever was in the bushes and it might be an animal or something.  She probably couldn’t get to sleep so decided to take a walk late at night.

 1, 4, 5, and 8 all decide to take a trip together. Where do they decide to go? Why?

Stella, Anne, Xeann and Morphen.  You’re sending Morphen on a trip with three women?  Hoo boy.

So…Stella and Anne may not be too fussed on where they end up so Xeann might choose a trip to somewhere with a vibrant nightlife, somewhere fun.  Morphen couldn’t care less, he intends to stay away from the women and they return the sentiment.

 Unfortunately, the plane that they (1, 4, 5, 8) were on crashed on an uninhabited island. How do they work together? What are their designated tasks? Does help actually arrive, or do they have to escape on their own?

Oh no.  Xeann, roll for persuasion.

Xeann: …Fifteen.

OK, Morphen begrudgingly helps the girls build a raft to get off the island.  Anne is good with her hands so she’d be able to do most of the building, Stella would be in charge of collecting food, Xeann would keep the peace between Morphen and the others, somehow.  Morphen is strong so will help out with most of the labour.

 How does 3 deal with pain? Like… Stabbed in a shady alleyway with a switchblade by some desperate mugger kind of pain?

Mikael is kind of a sponge when it comes to pain because I believe he’s dealt with things like this a lot.  He’s a typical cleric or healer so he would heal the wound, shrug it off and walk away like nothing happened.  Emotional pain on the other hand is something completely different.

 If 7 and 9 were to duke it out, who would emerge victorious? It can be anything from a small spontaneous brawl to an orchestrated battle to the death.

My poor Erik!  Of course Nightmare would win!  Erik would surrender after the first blow dealt to him.  And Nightmare is sadistic so the punches and kicks will just keep coming…

[wineanddinosaur]

America’s Only Foeder Crafter Is Changing How We Make and Drink Wild Beers

“We’re getting a stick rack today. This has been a four-year fantasy,” Matt Walters, co-founder and owner of Foeder Crafters of America (FCA), says.

Based in an industrial park in a St. Louis suburb, FCA is the only company in the United States manufacturing foeders. These enormous oak barrels are traditionally winemakers’ tools, but they’re also used by Belgian breweries like Brouwerij Boon and Rodenbach to produce funky and tart lambics and gueuzes.

Historically, if you wanted wild beers, you looked to Belgium. In the last decade, however, many American brewers started exploring the benefits of brewing with wild yeast and other microflora in foeders. It’s a complicated, expensive way to brew, but that hasn’t stunted the category. American wild ale is quickly transforming from ultra niche to bona fide crossover star.

Since launching FCA in 2014 with co-founder Justin Saffell (who he later bought out), Walters has been lowering the barriers to entry for American brewers interested in wild ales. Business is booming. (“We’ve been over-subscribed since we started,” Walters says, “Sales is not our problem.”) Their challenge now is keeping up with demand and maintaining quality, as the American craft beer market continues evolving at warp speed.

The “stick rack” looks exactly like it sounds, an assortment of wooden staves of varying lengths, each marked with arrows and lines. These indicate where bands and fittings should go, so each piece of wood is like an assembly manual for a particular type of foeder. “If you give one of these guys the stick, they know right away how to make the foeder. It answers every question,” Walters says.

Brewing wild and sour beers is expensive. Barrels are pricey, and loss is part of the (long) process.

“It’s part of the game with our beer, there’s always a little bit of loss,” says Cory King, owner of Side Project Brewing, a Maplewood, Mo.-based brewery that specializes in barrel-aged beer. King estimates that Side Project loses around 20 percent of its output annually due to evaporation or the beer going bad.

As with anything that entails aging, long production cycles slow profits.“We put beer in barrels for six months to a year, to two years, or three years,” King says. “Those are just sitting on a floor that I’m paying rent on. You’re not producing anything, they’re just there.”

King was one of FCA’s earliest customers. He notes how dramatically the market for American wild ales has changed in the last decade. Even in 2010 or 2011, the availability of sour beer in Missouri was limited to “special releases for breweries outside the Midwest. You couldn’t walk into a bar just to have a good sour beer and enjoy yourself,” King says.

Across the country, however, select brewers were already producing tart, wild beers. Jolly Pumpkin in Michigan, New Belgium in Colorado, Russian River in California, and Allagash in Maine were among those ahead of the curve.

Jeff Stuffings co-founded Jester King Brewery in 2010 in Texas Hill Country near Austin, where he brewed farmhouse ales and other wild styles. Stuffings was surprised by how quickly business took off. “I thought that it was going to take some time, or that it might not even work at all in Texas,” he says. “But I think the market had been primed, at least among beer nerds, by the hype that was starting to build.”

Jester King and Side Project, which King opened in 2013, were part of a wave of new breweries focusing exclusively on wild and sour beers. “As we were popping up you have de Garde out in Oregon making exclusively funky sour beer, everything touching oak,” King says. “The Rare Barrel out in California were doing the same thing, and Sante Adairius heavily focused on their farmhouse, oak-aged sour beers as well.”

King initially sourced oak barrels, mainly from Missouri wineries, for his brewery, but supply was limited. He came across a mention of Foeder Crafters of America – “I think via social media,” he says – and after discovering it was based in the St. Louis area, he decided to pay Walters and Saffell a visit.

He put a deposit down on his first FCA foeder almost immediately, and it remains in use at Side Project. “It’s our best-producing foeder, because it’s our most mature, with the most mature cultures. It’s a great thing,” he says.

The Missouri oak used in each FCA foeder is dried for two years before it’s brought to the workshop. From there, the construction process takes a couple of days. “We don’t bend or steam any wood,” Walters says. “I believe that once you bend wood, the wood wants to go back to where it was. So we machine the curves on both sides. We have to make a different stave for every radius that we have.”

Foeder makers at FCA assemble each barrel by hand. The foeders then spend a week being finished, which involves filling them with water and steaming.

FCA now has a staff of almost 10 in its workshop, and offers highly customized foeders in around 60 different combinations of shapes and sizes. They can be made to sit vertically or horizontally, and can be cylindrical, oval- or egg-shaped. Capacity runs from a 21-gallon foeder for homebrewers up to 250 barrels.

“The ability to customize your foeder is huge,” King says. “They make it to fit where it needs to go, and they put valves and cooling plates in, or racking arms or whatever they need to do.” If taken care of, the foeders can last over 100 years.

Foeder Crafters currently ships 25 to 35 foeders every month, up from its 2018 average of 19.5 per month. Walters estimates that repeat business accounts for around a third of sales.

FCA’s clients span some 400 breweries across the United States, including Great Raft Brewing in Louisiana, Washington’s Wander Brewing, and Flying Dog Brewing of Maryland. It also provides foeders for brewers in Canada, Australia, Brazil, Japan, Hong Kong, and Taiwan.

Accessibility and price are key to FCA’s success. Walters says that, typically, a 30-barrel French foeder would cost about $18,000 to import to the U.S., including around $5,000 in shipping costs. Comparable equipment from FCA would come in at around $12,000, depending on specifications.

“Imported foeders have gone way down since we published our pricing,” Walters says, noting that the prices of French foeders nearly halved. “But we don’t do much wine stuff, and they don’t do much beer stuff, so we’re kind of leaving each other alone.”

Not every foeder is used to produce wild and sour beers. Many FCA clients use their foeders to brew clean lagers, Walters says.

While there are more acidic and funky beers on the market than ever before in America, Stuffings says the sour hype has plateaued.

“I think in 2019, the market has shifted away a little from having wild fermentation and Lambic-inspired beers as one of the most popular things. That’s not entirely a bad thing,” he says. “It will remain a niche, but you’ll get converts. We get plenty of wine drinkers who love wild ales and sour beers from the first taste because of the natural overlap, especially with natural wines.”

Creatively, wild beer is still in its infancy, King says, and emphasizing terroir-driven beers gives brewers and the category itself considerable growth potential.

“I think that it’s still the focus on the sense of place, using local micro-flora,” he says. “It’s something we’ve done since day one, but really, on two hands I could name all the breweries at that time doing it. Fortunately, now there are more … It’s a natural progression. If wine has done it, there’s no reason beer won’t be doing it, just 100 or 200 years later.”

To secure their legacy and longevity, some brewers are working together to establish best practices and ensure category quality. King and Stuffings were both instrumental in establishing the Sour and Wild Ale Guild (SWAG, amusingly). Stuffings says that SWAG was formed to promote wild and sour beer to the customer, but also to improve quality in the category.

“These are beers that have a bit of a higher price point, and if the quality’s not there it can turn people off quickly,” he says. “They’re not easy beers to make, they require a lot of patience and discipline, and a pretty good palate as well.”

They’re also easy to misrepresent. For example, kettle souring is a quick and inexpensive technique for creating sour beers, but it’s unregulated. As a result, unscrupulous or simply uninformed brewers could easily misleadingly market their kettle-soured beer to consumers. “People can make a kettle sour in a matter of four days, put it in a barrel for one day, and then they could put it on the shelf and say, ‘This is our wine barrel-aged wild ale,’” says King.

Establishing agreed terminology for describing various types of wild beers is another priority. “You probably noticed I shied away from calling them ‘sour’ beers,” Stuffings says. “I think of a chef, who would never say ‘I’m going to make the most sour dish I can make’ – it’s about creating acid that balances and makes the beer more inviting.”

King is optimistic about the guild’s prospects. “We were hoping this could start the direction of the education of the consumer, or it could be self-regulating for members of SWAG,” he says. “You don’t want to be a member and then lie to everybody. So maybe members of SWAG get to put the SWAG logo on the bottle. So you know what you’re buying, and they’re actually being honest with you.”

For Matt Walters, Foeder Crafters of America’s battle is ensuring its supply of wood matches the growing demand for foeders. “That’s our daily struggle,” he says. “We’ve been over-subscribed since we started.”

It all starts with the oak, Walters says, and the climate that oak grows in. “It had to be here. Missouri’s oak is by far the best,” he says. “A lot of people tried it on the East Coast, but the oak on the East Coast is terrible. Oak from Wisconsin? Their summers are too easy. Down south? Their winters are too easy. This is the sweet spot.”

The article America’s Only Foeder Crafter Is Changing How We Make and Drink Wild Beers appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/american-foeder-sour-beer-wild-ale/

[georgeycowell]

From Haylofts to Hardwoods: How One Family Salvaged a Historic Barn

There's a century of history woven into the floors of a contemporary home east of Seattle: golden planks, shiny blondes and the occasional knotted gray.

It's just how Amanda Gatlin wanted it - even if she didn’t expect it would involve recycling an entire Mississippi barn, with pieces dating back to when Woodrow Wilson was president.

"It was my great-grandfather and grandfather and a bunch of people in the community who helped build it," said Gatlin, referring to the barn 2,300 miles away. "Some of the pieces of wood are 100-plus years old."

What started out as a small undertaking - Gatlin and her husband, Jeff Layton, peeling away a couple wood slabs for a picture frame or accent wall in their Northwest new construction - quickly grew into something more.

"I don't know how it transitioned from taking a few pieces to taking down the whole barn," said Jeff. "Amanda's dad talked to the landowner, and they said, 'You can come and take the whole thing.' That evolved into, ‘Gosh, let's salvage this thing.’"

‘I called it my clubhouse’

In 1912, Amanda’s great-grandparents started a farm in rural Choctaw County, Mississippi, about two hours south of Memphis. They ran a small dairy operation while growing corn and cotton. In 1949, the family built a large wooden barn on the same piece of land.

"The lumber was primarily white oak," said Boyd Gatlin, Amanda's father. "I think we kept three jersey cows and a bull. We would hand-milk in the morning, and then we sold it."

"I grew up drinking raw milk. That's why I have such a great immune system," he joked.

Boyd played in the barn as a child, jumping out of the hayloft or getting stung by wasps in the summer. His family eventually moved away, but they later learned the new owner added to the barn using wood from Boyd's grandparents' home nearby.

"So there are some unusual materials," Boyd said, "some of which had square nails, indicating they were more than 100 years old."

The Gatlins repurchased the land when Amanda was 7, using it as a country home to spend weekends or vacations. The sale allowed her to play in the same barn her father played in as a kid.

"I remember sitting up in that loft. I called it my clubhouse," she recalled. "You could dangle your legs over the side and look out onto the other house on the property - into the tall grass."

‘We were swinging sledgehammers’

When Amanda and Jeff set out to salvage the barn in 2016, it no longer belonged to her family, but they struck an agreement with the landowner to take it apart. They booked a flight from Seattle to Mississippi for September, hoping Mother Nature would give them a break from the unrelenting summers of the South.

As with many aspects of the project, it was a lot more complicated than one might expect.

"It was 95 degrees, super high humidity - it was just scorching hot," Jeff recalled. "We were swinging sledgehammers, and it was by hand. Everything was by hand."

The couple had done their research. A lot of people, it turns out, take apart barns for a living.

"[Other people are] using cherry pickers and forklifts. We didn't have access to that," Jeff said. "But as it turns out, it all came apart pretty easily. No electricity. It was all done by hand."

The duo used sledgehammers to take the barn down, piece by piece. Relatives and neighbors joined in for days at a time. A tornado that hit the area a few years back had loosened up some of the planks, making it a little easier.

They got lucky, they say, that there were no menacing bugs or wasps. They found some ants - and the occasional relic.

"Sometimes we found bullets inside [the wood]," Jeff recalled. "Apparently it's really common in the South to go shooting at old barns."

It took the pair a full two weeks to take the building apart and remove the nails by hand. In the process, they discovered the barn was more than 90 percent hardwoods, forming a solid base for their Seattle home’s new floors.

They also discovered something else: the importance of family.

"One huge benefit of doing all this labor is that we've bonded with family," Amanda recalled. "You sweat together, you have lunch together. It's an amazing bonding experience."

Long hours toiling in the hot Mississippi sun sparked great stories of the family's deep roots. Amanda's father shared tales of living on the farm as a child. A cousin talked about flying helicopters in the Vietnam War. Another cousin drove up from Florida and helped for three days, along with her husband.

"It created opportunities that we would not have had otherwise," Jeff added.

‘He was telling me stories from the Navy’

Once the wood was taken apart, it had to be milled and transported across the country. A local Mississippi mill, dating back to 1875, sanded down the boards and created tongue-and-groove joints, costing the family about $6,000.

"A lot of the pieces we were pulling down had that gray patina on it. The mill guys said that 20 years ago you couldn't give it away," Jeff said. "But now it has that aged look people are really looking for."

Jeff planned to drive the wood across the country. His father, who also lives near Seattle, was planning to meet him in Arkansas.

"It was quite an adventure. The day I left Mississippi, there were all these tornado warnings. There were tornadoes touching down around me, and it was really dark," he recalls. "I was thinking, 'What am I doing? What have I done?'"

Jeff and his father drove through the South to escape the cold winter weather. The duo ended up having their own family experience getting the hardwoods back to the West Coast.

"He was telling me stories from the Navy. We talked politics and religion," Jeff added. "I got to spend all this great time with my dad."

Amanda working on the hardwoods in her new home in Plain, Washington.

‘Putting a puzzle together’

With the wood safely back in Washington, the couple stored it for the winter, enduring subzero temperatures. They placed it in the garage of their rental home, covering the pieces with plastic and putting a heater in the room to keep the moisture down.

Before installing the wood, they sprayed it with an insecticide. The duo worked 12-hour days, laying out the floors in the main rooms, along the stairs and in a couple of small loft spaces.

They were working with five different board widths, along with different wood species. The couple loved the look - even at the risk of having the boards expand and contract at different rates.

"You basically start putting a puzzle together," Jeff says.

That patchwork meant hiding some Easter eggs throughout the house - the couple found a smiley face in one plank of wood, placing it outside their son's room.

"We would find different knots that look like things, [such as] an Eiffel Tower. We have a room that has two bears in it. We have one that looks like a wine spill," Jeff says.

The installation, from bare floor to stained, finished wood, took the family about 2 1/2 weeks.

‘A good substitute’

The couple is now fully moved into their 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom home and ready to welcome guests over the summer, when sunshine brings warm weather and ideal conditions for hiking, rafting and barbecues.

It wasn't the least expensive way to put floors down, added Boyd Gatlin, Amanda's father, but it is certainly special.

"In a nutshell, their flooring was quite expensive, but it is like no other in that it carries family memories," he said. "We had a house fire in 1960 that destroyed all family heirlooms, so Amanda and her cousin both felt the barn wood would be a good substitute."

Not all the wood was solid enough for the floors. Some of it became the lining of the master bath; the couple is also talking about doing some accent walls in wood.

The family’s nearly complete home, about two hours east of Seattle.

Boyd commissioned two paintings of the barn from a relative. The family plans to build a picture frame out of the leftover wood and some of the square nails. Even the rusty old barn roof will be put to good use as siding on Jeff and Amanda's home.

Most importantly, the family loves to share stories about how their hardwood floors were more than 100 years in the making.

"We've been blown away by the results," he said.

Photos by Jeff Layton, Amanda Gatlin and Boyd Gatlin.

You can follow Jeff and Amanda’s progress on their blog, Married to Adventure.

Related:

This Philadelphia Farmhouse Is a Historic Stunner

1800s Estate Proves History Is Anything But Drab

Living Legacy: Making a Family Home in a Historic Mansion

Originally published June 2017.

from Home https://www.zillow.com/blog/salvaging-a-family-barn-215734/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

[vincentbnaughton]

From Haylofts to Hardwoods: How One Family Salvaged a Historic Barn

There’s a century of history woven into the floors of a contemporary home east of Seattle: golden planks, shiny blondes and the occasional knotted gray.

It’s just how Amanda Gatlin wanted it - even if she didn’t expect it would involve recycling an entire Mississippi barn, with pieces dating back to when Woodrow Wilson was president.

“It was my great-grandfather and grandfather and a bunch of people in the community who helped build it,” said Gatlin, referring to the barn 2,300 miles away. “Some of the pieces of wood are 100-plus years old.”

What started out as a small undertaking - Gatlin and her husband, Jeff Layton, peeling away a couple wood slabs for a picture frame or accent wall in their Northwest new construction - quickly grew into something more.

“I don’t know how it transitioned from taking a few pieces to taking down the whole barn,” said Jeff. “Amanda’s dad talked to the landowner, and they said, ‘You can come and take the whole thing.’ That evolved into, ‘Gosh, let’s salvage this thing.’”

‘I called it my clubhouse’

In 1912, Amanda’s great-grandparents started a farm in rural Choctaw County, Mississippi, about two hours south of Memphis. They ran a small dairy operation while growing corn and cotton. In 1949, the family built a large wooden barn on the same piece of land.

“The lumber was primarily white oak,” said Boyd Gatlin, Amanda’s father. “I think we kept three jersey cows and a bull. We would hand-milk in the morning, and then we sold it.”

“I grew up drinking raw milk. That’s why I have such a great immune system,” he joked.

Boyd played in the barn as a child, jumping out of the hayloft or getting stung by wasps in the summer. His family eventually moved away, but they later learned the new owner added to the barn using wood from Boyd’s grandparents’ home nearby.

“So there are some unusual materials,” Boyd said, “some of which had square nails, indicating they were more than 100 years old.”

The Gatlins repurchased the land when Amanda was 7, using it as a country home to spend weekends or vacations. The sale allowed her to play in the same barn her father played in as a kid.

“I remember sitting up in that loft. I called it my clubhouse,” she recalled. “You could dangle your legs over the side and look out onto the other house on the property - into the tall grass.”

‘We were swinging sledgehammers’

When Amanda and Jeff set out to salvage the barn in 2016, it no longer belonged to her family, but they struck an agreement with the landowner to take it apart. They booked a flight from Seattle to Mississippi for September, hoping Mother Nature would give them a break from the unrelenting summers of the South.

As with many aspects of the project, it was a lot more complicated than one might expect.

“It was 95 degrees, super high humidity - it was just scorching hot,” Jeff recalled. “We were swinging sledgehammers, and it was by hand. Everything was by hand.”

The couple had done their research. A lot of people, it turns out, take apart barns for a living.

“[Other people are] using cherry pickers and forklifts. We didn’t have access to that,” Jeff said. “But as it turns out, it all came apart pretty easily. No electricity. It was all done by hand.”

The duo used sledgehammers to take the barn down, piece by piece. Relatives and neighbors joined in for days at a time. A tornado that hit the area a few years back had loosened up some of the planks, making it a little easier.

They got lucky, they say, that there were no menacing bugs or wasps. They found some ants - and the occasional relic.

“Sometimes we found bullets inside [the wood],” Jeff recalled. “Apparently it’s really common in the South to go shooting at old barns.”

It took the pair a full two weeks to take the building apart and remove the nails by hand. In the process, they discovered the barn was more than 90 percent hardwoods, forming a solid base for their Seattle home’s new floors.

They also discovered something else: the importance of family.

“One huge benefit of doing all this labor is that we’ve bonded with family,” Amanda recalled. “You sweat together, you have lunch together. It’s an amazing bonding experience.”

Long hours toiling in the hot Mississippi sun sparked great stories of the family’s deep roots. Amanda’s father shared tales of living on the farm as a child. A cousin talked about flying helicopters in the Vietnam War. Another cousin drove up from Florida and helped for three days, along with her husband.

“It created opportunities that we would not have had otherwise,” Jeff added.

‘He was telling me stories from the Navy’

Once the wood was taken apart, it had to be milled and transported across the country. A local Mississippi mill, dating back to 1875, sanded down the boards and created tongue-and-groove joints, costing the family about $6,000.

“A lot of the pieces we were pulling down had that gray patina on it. The mill guys said that 20 years ago you couldn’t give it away,” Jeff said. “But now it has that aged look people are really looking for.”

Jeff planned to drive the wood across the country. His father, who also lives near Seattle, was planning to meet him in Arkansas.

“It was quite an adventure. The day I left Mississippi, there were all these tornado warnings. There were tornadoes touching down around me, and it was really dark,” he recalls. “I was thinking, 'What am I doing? What have I done?’”

Jeff and his father drove through the South to escape the cold winter weather. The duo ended up having their own family experience getting the hardwoods back to the West Coast.

“He was telling me stories from the Navy. We talked politics and religion,” Jeff added. “I got to spend all this great time with my dad.”

Amanda working on the hardwoods in her new home in Plain, Washington.

‘Putting a puzzle together’

With the wood safely back in Washington, the couple stored it for the winter, enduring subzero temperatures. They placed it in the garage of their rental home, covering the pieces with plastic and putting a heater in the room to keep the moisture down.

Before installing the wood, they sprayed it with an insecticide. The duo worked 12-hour days, laying out the floors in the main rooms, along the stairs and in a couple of small loft spaces.

They were working with five different board widths, along with different wood species. The couple loved the look - even at the risk of having the boards expand and contract at different rates.

“You basically start putting a puzzle together,” Jeff says.

That patchwork meant hiding some Easter eggs throughout the house - the couple found a smiley face in one plank of wood, placing it outside their son’s room.

“We would find different knots that look like things, [such as] an Eiffel Tower. We have a room that has two bears in it. We have one that looks like a wine spill,” Jeff says.

The installation, from bare floor to stained, finished wood, took the family about 2 ½ weeks.

‘A good substitute’

The couple is now fully moved into their 3-bedroom, 3-bathroom home and ready to welcome guests over the summer, when sunshine brings warm weather and ideal conditions for hiking, rafting and barbecues.

It wasn’t the least expensive way to put floors down, added Boyd Gatlin, Amanda’s father, but it is certainly special.

“In a nutshell, their flooring was quite expensive, but it is like no other in that it carries family memories,” he said. “We had a house fire in 1960 that destroyed all family heirlooms, so Amanda and her cousin both felt the barn wood would be a good substitute.”

Not all the wood was solid enough for the floors. Some of it became the lining of the master bath; the couple is also talking about doing some accent walls in wood.

The family’s nearly complete home, about two hours east of Seattle.

Boyd commissioned two paintings of the barn from a relative. The family plans to build a picture frame out of the leftover wood and some of the square nails. Even the rusty old barn roof will be put to good use as siding on Jeff and Amanda’s home.

Most importantly, the family loves to share stories about how their hardwood floors were more than 100 years in the making.

“We’ve been blown away by the results,” he said.

Photos by Jeff Layton, Amanda Gatlin and Boyd Gatlin.

You can follow Jeff and Amanda’s progress on their blog, Married to Adventure.

Related:

This Philadelphia Farmhouse Is a Historic Stunner

1800s Estate Proves History Is Anything But Drab

Living Legacy: Making a Family Home in a Historic Mansion

Originally published June 2017.