#back yard covered living room structure

[storyarcade]

Patio - Fire Pit Example of a mid-sized trendy backyard brick patio design with a fire pit and a gazebo

#outdoor cabana #brussels tumbled brick pavers #back yard covered living room structure #patio #back yard bar and fireplace structure

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Little yellow 1900 cottage in Montrose, Colorado has a heart of stones in the front yard. 4bds, 2ba, $575K. The description reads, "It's not just a home, it's a lifestyle," and I have come to realize that means somethin's goin' on in there. Take a look.

There's a nice sun porch and it's decorated pretty fancy for a little cottage. Look at the gold ceiling.

Nice large living room and a very wide doorway to the dining room.

The dining room is huge and also has doors to the sun porch. I'm wondering if it was meant to be the living room.

The kitchen had a remodel at some point. There's a pantry/laundry room, too.

This area at the foot of the stairs is an office. It's really a flex space.

This is bathroom #1.

The primary bd. appears to be an addition or a former rec room. It's big and has a fireplace with rustic brick walls that have a very different look from the rest of the house.

This bedroom is cute. Look at those little windows. If you're into purple and pink you'll love the bedrooms.

The pink sitting room off this bedroom, has a door to the outside. It may have been the original front entrance and living room.

This is a Pooja Mandir, which loosely translates to a prayer room, a sacred space that's the heart of the home.

There's a shower in remodeled bath #2.

And, this bedroom has a cute dormer with a window seat.

At the back of the home is very large deck.

This structure is a private office, and next to it is a hot tub.

The brick structure looks like it's a separate space from the house and it looks like there's a covered area with a barbecue in the back.

There's also a large 2 car garage.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/222-S-2nd-St-Montrose-CO-81401/111197911_zpid/

#cottages #colorful homes #house tours #houses #home tour

[breakingbranchesbella]

Self-Indulgence; A Criminal Minds Multi-Fandom Fic.

Also found on Wattpad, Quotev, and Ao3 under the name BreakingBranches

Warnings: violence, gore, the usual criminal minds episode warnings.

Word Count: 14k in total, split into two parts due to tumblr’s restrictions.

CHAPTER 2 {PART 1}- I Am Not As Strong As I Pretend

Season 1. Episode 16. The Tribe

"Here."

  Cassie looked down at the torn off edge of a notecard. It had chicken scratch on it. A second, more in-depth glance offered the insight that it was not, in fact, hieroglyphics, but instead a series of numbers.

  "What?"

  "It's... a phone number... ever heard of those?"

  "I'm not that archaic. Why?"

  Morgan's right corner of his bottom lip protruded for a moment. He'd suck the top part between his teeth and bite down. He let it go with an exasperated sigh.

  "We all need to have each other's numbers eventually, call it a safety precaution."

  "Alright, then eventually." She'd push the paper back towards him. Dark hands raised in disinterest. "Keep it." Derek urged. He wasn't going to give her a chance to refuse him directly, and with a swift turn he was gone towards some other end of the parking garage.

  Cassie had half a mind to throw it away. Not because she harbored any ill intentions towards Morgan. Mostly the opposite, she just didn't deem it necessary. She hardly answered her phone. Didn't like it all that much. The countless missed calls and unread messages that clogged the tiny blue screen were a testament to that nature.

Though, she weighed the option of telling him she had blatantly thrown out the piece of paper when it came time for all numbers to be exchanged. Which wasn't high on her want-to-do list, so she'd keep it. Stuff it in the back back pocket of dark blue jeans and call it a day.

The parking garage being so full wasn't surprising, three government buildings sat just a few yards away, what was surprising was the fact she was staying. Actually, she was walking towards her car. It had a weird ring to it. It wasn't a rental, or from work. Her car. Technically someone else's given to her. Cassie fought off the urge to spend a few more moments meandering the cold and green-hued structure. She knew where the car was, she didn't want to go home yet.

Yeah, she had one of those too now. A home, a car, pretty soon she'd be registered as a functioning member of society. What a horrible feeling, really. Dark boots kicked up loose concrete just outside the car's driver's side door. The black forester wasn't her style. It stood out too much in her opinion. She hadn't peeled the decals off of the back window. It had been eight months. She should do that.

She got in the car anyways and didn't think about it for the next two weeks.

  The drive wasn't too far, only thirty minutes if you pretended to avoid traffic. Thirty-five if you didn't. Cassie lived in the suburbs of a neighboring city with a white picket fence and a perfectly mundane neighborhood. The house was blue with white accents and a brown roof. The lawn was taken care of, freshly mowed by some teenage boy looking to fund his future mustang. Cass didn't know how far he'd get with that, especially as she watched a gaggle of boys his age rush down the dark streets with bags full of convenience store items.

  The garage had two tall metal shelves on either side. Clutter covered every inch of open space. Holiday decorations, yard work tools, paint supplies, and more that was covered by the former. The forester slowed to a stop, then relaxed forward and jolted her in her seat. The nylon seats didn't offer much cushioning.

  Above her head was a blinding white light with a motion sensor on the fritz. It blinked on and off, and then on again. The door to the garage led to the washing room, and from there the kitchen. Cold white and black quartz was accompanied by walnut cabinets. Unlike the garage, the rest of the home lacked any sort of decoration. Instead of a couch she had a chair, and instead of a grand dining table, she had one found off the side of the road. The decor didn't match the rest of the home. Then again, neither did Cassie.

  All that was left out besides necessities were a few photographs on tall coffee table. She'd breeze her tan fingers past them every-time she walked past. The first few photos featured her and a group, though off to the side there was a handful of photos that were different from the others. The people in these pictures weren't wearing any sort of uniform. They were professionally taken at some park. A man, his wife, and their two children. A young girl, and a toddler. Those four individuals were featured in various poses, all still professionally taken. Some even in this home.

  She couldn't look at them for too long. She stepped around the table and moved towards the chair. She slumped down on it, her elbow rubbed against fabric that was ripping. It would last a few more months before her aimless movements had completely destroyed it. That was a problem for later. Right now she just wanted to—

  Beep.

  Do nothing.

  Beep.

  The same three numbers had been messaging her all day. Two of them had contact names, the third didn't. Booth, González, and an 800 number. She still wouldn't respond.

  Cassie was obviously full of great ideas, which is why she chose not to reach out to those wondering about her, and call a different number. She knew it by heart, dialing it instead of searching through a contact list.

   "Hello?"

  "Gabriel—"

 

  "Cassie? Jesus... it's almost ten, I just put the kids to sleep."

  "..."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Im fine. I just... I haven't found anything but..."

"I know, you miss her. But you can't call this late, not unless it's important. You promise you're okay?"

"I'm fine."

"The house treating you okay?"

"Just fine."

"Good. Then you have a roof over your head, and you say you're fine so I'm going to believe you. Im going to hang up now, ok? I have work tomorrow. I hope you do too."

"Wait. They're both asleep?"

"I'm sorry Cassie. I really think it would be better if you spoke to someone else about this. I know a few good therapists in the area, Talia used to go all the time. It really helped her."

"..."

"She'd want you to move on, you know. It's been almost a year now. You deserve to live too, and I deserve sleep at a reasonable hour. Call me if you need something, an emergency. Otherwise, please, don't."

"Alright, I'm sorry, I just wanted to—"

  The line went dead. A short buzz sounded in her ear, and then nothing. He had a point about the time, but nothing else really registered. More the therapy than the no calling policy. She could listen to instructions, she had been doing that for years. Yet the idea of not getting to speak to the last connection to Talia hurt. It hurt more than she could ever begin to explain. Emotions were never a strong suit, even worse so with the ones she couldn't control. It was like a pit in her stomach, akin to the feeling of nausea. She'd want to vomit, and nothing would be there. No remedy made the feeling go away.

  Slowly, she'd look around the mostly empty house. It was the opposite of a remedy, it made the feeling that much worse. That's why Gabriel hadn't fought Talia's will, he was feeling the same melancholic air that she was. Did most twenty-five year olds write a will? Probably, probably not, she didn't know.

  Reid most likely did. Or something along those lines. He'd have some statistic that felt made up ready to fire the moment something related back to it. That line of thinking led her to rifling through her jeans pocket and pulling out the crinkled piece of paper. She read the number off twice before dialing it.

  What was she even doing?

  "Derek?"

  "Hey— oh?"

  "Cassandra, Lorayne, from earlier."

  "Yeah I figured that out."

  She'd sit up straight in the chair, biting the bottom left corner of her cheek.

  "Sorry."

  "Huh? No, you're all good sweetheart. I just didn't expect you to call so soon."

  "Don't call me sweetheart."

  "Babygirl?"

  "I'm hanging up now."

  "Wait wait, I'll stop. Scout's honor."

  "Good."

  "Good."

  Cassie looked around the room again, this time she'd pick the phone up and head over to the fridge. She held the phone against her ear, not saying anything. Just breathing softly against the electronic device. It was late, but she was hungry all the same. Big girls needed big meals, or something like that. Talia always used to say it when she went on her breaks.

  "Well?"

  "Well?"

  "You're the one who called me. Did you need something?"

  "No."

  "Mysterious, I like that."

  "Please don't."

  "Alright alright, but seriously, you ok?"

  "I... yeah, no, I'm fine. Just," There was a sandwich wrapped in plastic. With a swift motion she pulled it out and tossed it beside her onto the counter. Grabbing a few other items, she continued, "A desperate single woman alone on a Sunday night."

  "Desperate and single?"

  "No. I was joking."

  "I picked up on that."

  "Oh."

  "I'm sure some of it is accurate though."

  "Which part?"

  "Definitely single."

  "Ouch."

  "You said it, not me."

  "I didn't expect hearing it to hurt as much."

  "Don't beat yourself up, we could start a support group."

  "For?"

  "Desperate single agents."

  "But Garcia."

  "Nah, she's too good for me. She deserves someone a little more reliable."

  "I'm glad that's your excuse."

  Cassie fought a frown off at his comment. Then she realized nobody was there in the big empty house to see her, so she stopped fighting.

  "I'm glad that you're glad."

  "Good."

  "Good."

  Morgan let out a grunt. Cass' brows furrowed upon hearing it. A cough caught in her throat as she tried to question him.

  "Are you—"

  "Fine, just didn't finish the paperwork I was supposed to today."

  "Not fun."

  "No, definitely not."

  "If I'm distracting you I can..."

  "It's good you called me. I have your number now, can't throw mine away."

  "I wasn't going to."

  "I'm sure."

  "Maybe I thought about it."

  "Heartbroken."

  "Apologies."

  "You can make it up to me."

  "How?"

  She had finished her monster of a meal. Frankenstein would be proud, and then possibly disappointed she was letting pickles touch the mayonnaise.

  "Tell me a little about yourself."

  "Like?"

  "Whatever comes to mind."

  "I like..." Green eyes were yet again surveying the room. "Home ownership."

  "Home ownership?"

  She thought about Talia.

  "And sightseeing."

  "Home ownership and sightseeing. I would have never guessed."

  "I lied."

  "Which part?"

  "Both."

  "And here I was getting the idea of you hiking through the woods in my head. Maybe your hobby is lying."

  "Something like that."

  "Nothing else comes to mind?"

  Even if sharing parts of herself had never been easy, she almost wished she would have had something to hide now. But there was nothing. Not one thing she could use to define her interests. Work, work, more work, and an obscene amount of tragedy. Greasy breakfast diners, protein bars, beaten down chairs. Those weren't great choices.

  "What about you?"

  "I enjoy hockey. And Kurt Vonnegut."

  "Pearls before swine?"

  "Mother night."

  "Grim."

  "Your choice isn't much better."

  "Not much of a reader. I'm trying to get better about it."

  "Self-improvement is good."

  "You think?"

  "That's what it means, no?"

  She didn't answer.

  "Jeez. Usually my late night calls are less entertaining but..."

  "You don't mean that."

  "Maybe."

  "But it's late, and you should go. Because we both have work."

  "When you put it like that, I guess we should."

  "Were you expecting anything else?"

  "Honesty?"

  "The supposed best policy."

  "Then, no. I wasn't."

  Her face burned.

  "Goodnight Morgan."

  "Hey— hey, it was nice talking to you. Goodnight Lorayne."

  She decided to be the one to hang up this time. Cassie wasn't sure she could handle the sting of the dropped tone a second time that night.

————————————

Getting up early wasn't unusual for Cassie. The normal nine to five had never been part of her skill set. She thrived off of the freeing feeling of absolutely nobody being around at the odd hours of the morning. Except in Quantico there was always somebody. A lot of somebodies to be particular. She had only been through the office once, but memorizing it hadn't been an issue.

Making her way through the glass doors she noticed Elle and Garcia were doing anything but talking to each other. They were staring at someone else.

She didn't get it.

Crossing her arms and standing next to them, she'd tilt her head to the side. "What is—?"

"Hi, Sean, I'm looking for—"

Good. She wasn't the only one getting cut off. Though the fact that it was Morgan didn't make her feel much better. He wrapped around the three women and outstretched his hand towards 'Sean.'

"Derek, and I'm guessing you're looking for your brother?"

The blonde who had just interrupted her, and subsequently received immediate karma walked off with Derek towards Hotchner's office. Elle turned to the two of them. "That's Hotch's brother?"

"Maybe he's adopted?"

Cassie looked to the side, as if there was supposed to be some sort of camera. A gag reel waiting for her. She still didn't get it.

"Why?"

Elle smiled, then hid it between tightly pursed lips. She blinked a few times. "Well, you see Hotch is... textbook agent and his brother..."

"—A forbidden siren with luscious blonde locks."

"That."

She rolled her eyes in disinterest. It clicked. No further questions or comments needed. Still Garcia bit the tip of a plastic pen between her teeth and snarled in his direction. Sadly the only person it caught the attention of was JJ. Her right eyebrow sat lower than the left, which would raise at an arch. "What are you three doing?" And instead of explaining anything, the BAU had to engage in the oddest morning ritual Cass had ever seen. The tall brunette took JJ by the wrist and led her over to her desk. Leaving Garcia and Cassie to follow along like lost puppies. The four crowded around the half cubicle and watch as Sean finally emerged from Aaron's office.

"Hotchner's brother."

JJ's gaze bounced between the three of them, and then back to Sean as he stormed off in a huff.

"I didn't see it before, now I do." Hotch's attention left his brother and found the four women unabashedly staring. JJ creased her fingers under her chin. She'd slip away from the group, only to return with a stack of Manila folders. Cassie and Elle were both handed one, the latter ushered for Cass to follow her towards a meeting room beside Hotchner's office. A moment later Gideon, Reid, Morgan, and Hotch joined them. JJ filed in behind and closed the door halfway. She passed out the remaining folders as she spoke. "Five dead, all from Mesa University, New Mexico. No sign of theft or sexual assault."

  The table was small, almost everyone's elbows narrowly missed one another as they sifted through the information. The sun was finally starting to rise, it glared in through the side of the building. Morgan raised a hand instinctively as the bright hues shone through. "There's not many defensive wounds. And one of them was impaled on a six foot pole." Derek's voice cracked at the end of his first statement, more of a question than not.

  "Why would you want to torture five college freshman?" Elle folded a page behind another and skimmed over the new one. The scrawny kid tossed his head sideways in an attempt to realign a stray strand of hair. He looked up and met Cassie's half smile. He coughed, then found interest back in his paper. "There's no way one single unsub could have had this much control over this many people."

  "More than two?" Greenaway responded.

  Pushing up his glasses, Gideon would respond. "More like a pack."

  "And that is?" JJ looked around, her hands between her cloth covered knees. Like an eager student in a silent classroom Cassie found herself interjecting. The epiphany of knowing the terminology properly filled her with a sense of pride, then as she was speaking, disappointment in herself. If her old unit could see her now, using the words that she was, they'd have her head on a spike. Playfully, of course. Hopefully. Maybe.

  "It's three or more that kill in unison, as it is in nature. Their survival is dependent on their hunt. Essentially, the killing is what keeps them together."

  "And they stay together until they're stopped."

  Nobody spoke up after Gideon for a long time, they were all still processing the case. It was grizzly, a little anachronistic. Usually torture fanatics followed methods employed by the English and eastern cultures. This was different.

  It wasn't long before the group was packing up and heading out. Cassie still wasn't used to the Jet. She settled into a white leathered seat towards the back. It was facing the walkway of the plane. She guessed it would be a four to six hour flight, somewhere in between those times. Which meant she had ample room for conversation.

  This wasn't necessarily a good thing.

  Reid, Gideon, and Elle were crowded around the few seats that were accompanied by a table instead of just open leg room. They chattered amongst themselves, sometimes about the case, sometimes not. Hotch chose to sit across from her. The single section seat wasn't pointed towards her, but he'd turn to face her anyways.

  "How long has it been?"

Cassie opened her mouth to speak, then closed it as she thought more intensely. She'd bit her bottom lip, thinking about events that happened before and after, creating a timeline of the good and bad to pinpoint an actual date. "Two... no. Yes, two years?"

"Two sounds about right."

"You haven't changed."

"You have."

She looked to the side, towards the three still talking. JJ and Morgan were asleep. "Is that a bad thing?" Her gaze still lingered on the back of Reid's head. He was going on a tangent now. Elle was fact-checking him. She knew he was going to be right either way.

"I think it is."

"I hope you're right."

Cassie leaned back, slowly peeling her head away and looking towards Hotch. His expression sympathetic. She'd curl inward instinctively, kicking off her shoes and pulling her knees as close as she could get to her chest. She knew what was coming next.

"Don't be."

Aaron cocked his head.

"What?"

"Sorry. Don't be sorry. Please."

"Alright. Then I'm not."

"It happens."

His chest would rise and fall with slow, calm breaths. "It happens?"

"It's the line of work we chose. If it didn't happen then, it was likely to happen another time. That's life."

"You're right."

"I know."

"Good talk Lorayne."

Any harder now and she'd puncture the soft flesh of her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I appreciate it, I do, but I just don't want to hear it anymore."

"I'm not mad."

"I don't care if you are, I'm just explaining myself."

"We don't have to keep talking about it."

"Please."

She tiptoed around the edge of desperation. Narrowly missing the tone that threatened to tug at her voice. It was time to work, not think about what had and what could have been.

————————————

  Despite the earlier conversation, Cassie still went with Hotch, Reid, and Gideon to the crime scene first. She didn't have the luxury of mulling over her feelings beyond the few hours given to her. It was time to work, no other way around it. She had spent her formative years adhering to a certain standard of professionalism. Still, mistakes were made. They were going to repeat themselves one day. For now, she'd swallow whatever lumped in her throat and move on.

  There was another rental van waiting for them. Same as they always were.

The steely black vehicle pulled parallel to the concrete just before the house seen in the photos. Yellow tape was tied in a loose box around the property. Two brown police cars sat parked, a few detectives and local cops were talking outside. Aaron tucked the plastic end of his sunglasses behind his ear and wasted no time in addressing the sheriff.

"Agent Hotchner, Reid, Gideon, Lorayne."

"Is this all?" The sherif peered over Hotch's shoulder towards the van. Nobody else was coming. Aaron didn't miss a beat.

"The other agents are at the station house checking out the victims files. What has forensics come back with?"

The older man rubbed the knuckle of his pointer finger against his nose in a sweeping motion twice before answering. "CSU went through trace evidence and prints, they think looking at the footprints would be a waste with all of the workmen coming through here. Follow me." He pulled one end of the long line of tape up so the team could walk under it into the house.

Cassie waited, she was staring towards the ground. Gideon caught her lapse in pace. "Something the matter?"

She shouldn't have been as nervous as she was. Well, she didn't feel all that nervous, it was more of a feeling of displacement. But that word felt too emotional for her liking. So she'd pretend it was nerves. Just nervous, not worried about what all she should be contributing to the team. Cassie would find her grove soon. What she really wanted to do was call the sheriff inane for not checking for footprints anyways.

Instead, like the charming young woman she was, she'd shake her head and follow after the other men. Her expression didn't really read charming, though, more annoyed.

The house was practically empty besides a few tables here, some blood splatters there. What was interesting was the mess, or lack thereof. In the photos the bodies had been skinned, yet the floor got away with only a handful of stains. Reid and Hotch picked up on it too, the scrawnier of the duo flipped through some of the photos with a fervor. Cass craned her neck over his shoulder and pointed her heels upwards. He was flipping too fast for her to concentrate on just one thing.

Finally he stopped skimming through them and looked back to her. His face changed. "Look at this." He held one of the gore filled pictures towards her. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at in particular. He pursed his lips at her confusion and spoke loud enough for everyone to hear his revelation. "Whoever did this purposefully avoided cutting the skin at the wrist and the throat. He was avoiding where the veins and arteries are closest to the surface."

It was the sheriff's turn to be confused. Cassie interjected. "They weren't supposed to bleed out, the intention was skinning them alive."

It wasn't just a brutal way of murder, it was a brutal way of torture. The sheriff flinched at the idea and shook his head. Again he'd brush the top of his nose with his knuckle. His head was down as he gestured towards the next room. Inside were bear cans, bottles, makeshift party games. Two sleeping bags, and one upstairs.

"Not the type of party to bring a fifth wheel to."

"It's unlikely that they were a fifth wheel. It's possible there was a third girl here." Gideon looked from Cassie to the Sheriff. Who looked to Hotch when he picked up where the former two had left off.

"Have your deputies canvas the area, see if anyone saw the other girl with them."

He'd nod and take a step towards the sliding glass doors. "There's one more thing you should see."

The group traveled out towards what was a dust filled backyard. A large metal spike sat covered in dried blood. Reid took a step towards it, then another one back. Cassie brushed past him and circled the thing. "He was alive when they impaled him, just like the others." The brunette's nose creased.

"This is going to sound strange, but, the way that these victims were flayed alive and- and mutilated, impaled, they're all war rituals that the Native Americans used."

"That ring any bell?" Hotch had taken off his glasses. Cassie preferred it this way. She could follow his eyes properly.

"It does. I mean, look around you, everything we're walking on is Apache land. This basin is a sacred burial ground. As I understand it, it was the sight of a handful of her massacres."

"So you're saying this development is on their land?"

The sherif looked back at Hotch. "It was their land. But they didn't want to build on it, so the town ended up seizing it."

Cassie crossed her arms. A few months ago the Supreme Court had ruled that cities could now seize private land for development. A lot of people were angry, not just Native Americans. She had nothing besides a gut feeling of different rational. She understood the BAU tried to think like their unsubs, and she was trying it too. But if she was them, murdering five college students wasn't how you get your point across. Maybe it was someone from the reservation, but there had to have been something else. A piece of information they hadn't gotten yet. A better reasoning for torture.

If it were her she'd set a building on fire. Not kill drunk teens.

"Have there been any violent outbursts on the reservations part?" Gideon leaned back on his heels and flicked his stack of photos through the air. In response the sherif only shook his head. He was looking down at his feet again.

"Anybody on the reservation you think is capable of this?"

"I wouldn't know, it's federal jurisdiction."

The lines of Gideon's face seemed more prominent. Maybe the heat was getting to him. The bottom part of his nose twitched.

"Sounds like that's where we need to go."

He'd make his way back through the sliding glass door and towards the front of the house. The Sherif followed soon after. Hotch nodded towards Cass and Reid, who were both evidently distracted with something else. Cassie was still debating the possibility of a reservationist and Reid was too busy staring at the bloodied spike.

"You two," they both turned. "Get our girl on the line, see what she can find."

Hotch was following Gideon, and Reid was following Hotch. Cassie had nobody's number besides Morgan, hadn't been given the chance to get any yet. So she'd just meander behind the brown haired man as he spoke to Garcia on the phone. He'd given her a rundown, any Apache on the reservation who fit the profile of a right's activist. A moment later Reid handed the phone to Hotch. A few more seconds went by before Hotch turned to the sheriff. "You familiar with Blackwolf?"

"He's been in a bit of trouble related to his activism, yeah, nothing's ever been violent though. And certainly not around here."

"Should we call the reservation police to alert them anyways?"

The sherif got an odd look in his eye. He'd turn his head, swap the flesh of his cheek back and forth before his mouth opened with a click. "I don't think that's a good idea. Blackwolf is the reservation police."

Looks were exchanged, but this was nothing new to any of them. Or at least it wasn't to Cassie, and she hoped the others were in the same boat. Military was a whole different world. A lawless land that found it couldn't run without those laws. So they'd appoint new people to new positions, the only problem was the police there weren't being asked to detain regular citizens. They were being asked to arrest soldiers. Trained killers. For their country, of course, but that didn't mean those skills couldn't be used elsewhere. From a first day private to a Navy SEAL, Cass had seen it all. Those guys were good, she had to learn to be better. Maybe not stronger, but smarter. 

The black van tumbled down the gravel road that filtered into dirt. Gideon sat diagonally to her, they locked eyes through the rear view mirror. She was getting a little tired of this. "You don't think it was him?"

All eyes were on her now, even Hotchner made the attempt to look back through the mirror. Though his attention was mostly on getting them from point A to point B without any casualties.

"Did I say that?"

"No, but you don't look very confident."

She didn't say anything to that. The vehicle bounced against the lack of road. It was almost as jarring as the sounds the van made throughout the trip. It narrowly pulled through an open grated fence. There were no parking spaces, but stopping before the woman standing and watching them seemed appropriate in some people's eyes. The sheriff's busted car rolled to a stop alongside their own.

"This is Jane Bear, Jane, these are FBI agents. Gideon, Hotchner, Reid, Lorayne." Cassie shook her hand last, it was cold, well taken care of. "Miss Bear is the principal of the reservation school here and the president of the tribal council." Busy.

Cass wasn't the only one thinking it. At least she had the decency, or something else, to keep her mouth shut. There was a clear standoffish nature about her. Not that she was rude, or that she didn't have any right. Cass could empathize with something being taken from you. In this case it wasn't just freedom, she couldn't extend her understanding beyond that. She wasn't going to try. It was a shitty situation. Shitty government. And yet she was here like a lapdog on a leash, as per usual.

"Where's John, Bear?" He rested his hands on his hips. Like a lightbulb turning on, it clicked for her. "I'm sorry— is this about the Terra Mesa killings?"

"They just want to talk to him Jane."

"Blackwolf has done more to help this place than anyone, he wouldn't jeopardize that. Jim, you've called him countless times to find lost hikers. He's not a violent man."

"No, but he'd defend his people if he felt he needed to."

"And that relates to Terra Mesa how?"

Hotchner cleared his throat and took a half step closer. "If John considers the development an attack on Apache land, then..." Jane pursed her lips and turned on the heel of her beaten boots.

"Those developers have paid people a lot of money to move. With so many gone we can barely fill a single class."

Who they could only assume was Blackwolf stood in front of an old green chalkboard. The class was full, but the students looked to be a fair bit older. She'd guess the younger students were more dispersed between classes. The current subject was history, there were scribbled dates on the board and maps hung over every free inch. She heard someone whisper beside her, and there stood Reid mouthing the answer to every question. Until he was given the opportunity to answer someone else's question. Hotch shot him a dirty look. He got the memo after that.

"John, I'll take over." Jane's brows raised as she quickly attempted to deescalate the rising tension. He'd make no attempt to hide the large knife he pulled from the desk drawer as he followed the group outside.

It was Gideon's turn to do the introductions for everyone. Except there were no firm handshakes or pointing this time. Just a harsh puff of air through his nostrils and an attempt at reading them. "You look like a college professor. You look like his student. You, well you look FBI. But she's not." He paused, tilted the end of his knife towards her. "Military." She'd sat through her fair share of distaste in her profession. It came with the territory. No reason to argue over it.

"We're with the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

"Then you ought to know better."

Hotchner squared his stance. "How do you figure?"

 

"We don't massacre. You two do, your government."

"Mr. Blackwolf,"

Cass frowned, she grabbed the stack of photos she had in her bag. Pressing them into his hands roughly, she'd swing the pack over her shoulder. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

 

Gideon attempted to play damage control. "You're an expert in Native American customs. We want your opinion."

He'd flick through the photos, his eyes widening ever so slightly. He tried to hand them back to Cassie, but she crossed her arms and stared blankly instead of taking them back. "I need to see the sight, I don't make opinions off of pictures." Which was a relatively privileged way of thinking, but nobody had the capacity to argue with him.

From one place to another, they were back at the house. Blackwolf was intent on checking the grounds outside. Maybe he wasn't entirely dense.

He proved her right, and then wrong a moment later. Reid had gotten curious, and poked the wolf.

"Why don't you carry a gun?"

"Twenty-one feet."

"Excuse me?"

"Ask your friends, they're heavy-handed."

Hotch smoothed his hair under the end of his glasses. "The minimum distance an attacker with a knife can travel before someone with a firearm can react."

Which was correct. What wasn't was solely relying on that fact. Cass didn't like the statements always and never, there was always a sometimes. But her sometimes and Blackwolf's were different. He'd rather run, she'd rather aim to kill. Difference in reasoning she supposed. Didn't make her like him anymore. Her opinion was middle ground. Better than most people got.

Being egotistical wasn't something that was a required personality trait for the FBI, even if most agents were. Cass bit back the smile when Blackwolf made his first stop the back of the home, and subsequently the dirt beneath their feet. He looked between the photos and the scenery and then stood back up.

"They used war rituals, sure, but not solely Apache rituals. Not one tribe ever used all of these techniques, at least not like this. They'd know that if they were Indians."

He walked in a slow circle.

"There was a sixth woman here. She was ambushed, there. At least two sets of footprints. Six back there."

"You're saying there were eight?"

"Maybe more."

Gideon cut in, "Eight perpetrators, one hostage."

————————————

The station house lighting was dark, dreary. There wasn't much in the way of legibility of the papers taped to cork boards that littered the short hallways. The BAU had been a board that moved and half the space of a cramped office. An unhappy officer was pushed out to an open desk, however the briefing seemed to redirect that anger elsewhere.

She'd prepare herself for the 'who's it' portion of their conversation. Reid started, he spoke of their inability to understand practical Apache culture. Their knowledge of it was important, but it wasn't that of a native's. More someone staring into a room without ever hearing the words spoken. Morgan took over afterwards, covering the topic of surrendered identities in these groups. Whether they followed religious, racist, or political ideologies, they didn't think of themselves as individuals, but as parts of a 'greater' whole. Hotchner and Elle took turns. They put faces to names, referencing other groups with similar motifs and behaviors. Kidnapping was the hill they were dying on, it's what made it different. Whoever the girl was had been important enough to keep. Slaughter wasn't their only goal, which meant it could have been a sign of domestic terrorism.

The earlier, disgruntled cop turned his nose up at the profile. "These are Indians we're talking about though, right?"

Cassie's imagination came and went in waves. Currently she found herself putting Blackwolf's head on a small slider of like to dislike. He was going up a little more, she was able to appreciate how he shut the other man down.

The conversation ended shortly thereafter. The profile was finished. Nobody had anything else to add. There just wasn't enough evidence to immediately point fingers. And where they had, had already been ruled out. Reid and Morgan stared towards the moveable board, photos and papers littered the entire expanse. Cassie thought about following the other four members of the group into the office besides their impermanent one.

"Hey."

She no longer thought about following them. Her brows curved upwards as she met Morgan's gaze. The other occupant of the room wasn't paying attention. Cassie took tentative steps forward, closing the gap so she could lower her voice. Someone else hearing the ensuing conversation would 'knock her street cred'. That's what she told herself.

"Hey."

"How was it?"

"I wanted to apologize—"

They had both spoken at the same time. Awkwardly she clasped her lips shut and looked towards the single office desk in the room.

"Apologize?"

"Don't worry about it, I don't want to anymore."

Derek laughed. She felt childish. In another life she wouldn't have cared. That was still this life, she should be doing better. As though a switch were flipped she crossed her arms and hardened her expression. Not angry, just apathetic.

"It was fine, earlier, I think we shared the most important pieces with the 'class'. Well, beyond Blackwolf being a caricature."

"Of?"

"I'm not sure yet. Something. You should know."

"I get what you mean."

They both let out short, heavy breaths.

"Well?"

"Nothing just wanted to ask you about it."

Her eyelids creased. Reid was only just now paying attention to their conversation. Which was sign enough for her to stop talking. Thankfully, a second later JJ peered around the corner and informed them they may have a suspect. Roy Minton, founder of what he called the American Defense Unit. In short, racist fueled militia. Not a very well kept secret. Not an uncommon group capable of committing murder in the way they had. The ADU sounded a lot like the Bible that some military men read. Whatever had been beaten into their heads made them think they were deserving of the end all be all on how this country should be run. If they needed to do that through force, they'd find a way. Nine times out of ten she ended up arresting them for their ideologies taking them too far out of the normal standards of society. Hatred bred fear, and fear breeds violence. The cycle never stopped. Not here.

Not long after and Minton was being lead through the various hallways towards, well, just another office. They didn't have a free interrogation room on hand. So he was shoved in there with Hotch. Who requested Morgan join him. It was a little brazen, a little unprofessional, but Cassie pushed her way through the door right behind the latter. She got a quick look, but nobody seemed to tell her to leave. Interrogations were her thing. Technically, everything was her thing because it had to be. She was still trying to relearn that she could trust her team.

Derek pulled a free chair and swung it around on one leg until it was facing away from Minton. His posture tensed up for a moment. He avoided eye contact with Morgan at first. Only seemed to feel that Hotchner was the person worth speaking to.

"Mr. Minton, do you have any idea who might be behind the Terra Mesa killings?"

He lulled his head to the side, and loosened up a little. "The Indians have a long history of violent outbursts. You know the Apache used to kill white settlers. Put their heads on pikes."

"That was a long time ago Mr. Minton."

"No. That was the other night. They killed those college kids, I'd know, my family has been dealing with those Indians for a hundred and fifty years."

Morgan's hands clasped around the back of his chair. He leaned against the cool leather rim of the seat. "That rhetoric is the type of thing people use to justify their own violence."

He was abashed, unnerved by having to speak to Derek. He couldn't make eye contact. "We're fighting them in court, not in someone's backyard."

"You don't usually need twice as many guns as your men for a court case." Cass' nostrils flared as she let the right part of her hip lean against the desk besides Aaron. Her arms crossed under her chest.

"Exercising our constitutional right."

She'd scoff, maybe it was a laugh.

 

"It's our right to protect ourselves, our home."

"You're paranoid."

"Not in this day and age."

Which was as paranoid as it could get. Indians weren't his biggest worry. Or they shouldn't have been. Cassie's laugh signaled to Hotchner to talk over. The rest of the interrogation was short. A few questions about his members, a few questions about the lawsuit. They'd let it go after that.

The group gathered in the small office, Aaron called the sheriff in to join them. Cassie pressed tan palms to the rough wood of the desk and push herself up until she was sitting on the edge of it. Elle and Morgan spoke loudly back and forth. They shared similar views on the type of person Minton was. However, from what they had learned he wasn't shaping up to be a great suspect either. He was a racist, sure, but he was mostly using it as a stepping stool. He was money hungry, but money required labor and labor required a purpose. Mob mentality. He'd use it to get what he wanted. This made him less likely to commit the acts himself, and more likely that it was small group of people he riled up.

"Have some of your men put Roy under surveillance."

Gideon shoved his hands in his pockets.

"You really think it's him?"

"No, but he's likely to lead us to whoever it is."

The sheriff didn't get to ask any more questions. A light ringing tone sounded from Morgan's pocket. He pulled the device out and flipped it open. Holding up his left pointer finger he murmured 'Garcia.' "What do you got for me?" Silence, then a compliment. He closed the phone and nodded a few times. "Garcia thinks she found our sixth victim. Fingerprints match up." He slid the phone back into his pocket and moved behind the desk Cassie was sitting on. "Ingrid Greisen." It seemed whatever they were looking at was the full ID of the young woman. Which she doubted was actually in the county's system, so Garcia must have sent it over. She turned slightly so that she could watch the others watch the screen. Hotchner leaned over Derek and pointed. "There's the address. Elle, JJ, Morgan, let's go." Which meant the rest were supposed to sit here and mull over invisible evidence. Not her preferred method of solving cases.

It was getting late after that. The sun was setting around eight, but Cassie chose to stay anyway. There were a few officers who went in and out. She watched them, preferring a corner of the wide open space instead of squeezing into the small office. Someone had lent her a laptop, which she was grateful for. And then not so much when she opened the first tab. In hindsight, she shouldn't have been so optimistic. She closed out of a few things and tried to shake the images from her head. Not as bad as they could have been, but she didn't need to see in-depth advertisements for hair plugs.

Being a new member left her with little say, or at least she deemed it that way. Where she was from the newbie always caught the most flack. Here wasn't too awful, she was treated with respect.

There was still a divide, however. Whether it be from worldview or something else. The team was close. She was trying, and failing, to not find any attachments here. So, instead of moping around any longer over the disconnect, she put her feeble internet skills to work. Logically in a 'tight-knit' community like this, there were bound to be groups beyond the ADU. Because tight-knit didn't exactly mean friendly, it simply meant everyone else was in each other's business. There were online forums, groups, meetings at local libraries and mom and pop shops everywhere nowadays. If someone had an opinion, someone else had to disagree. But it couldn't just be one voice, they had to prove that the fact they were disagreeing was important. So they'd make fliers, MySpace posts, you name it. If they didn't like blue flowers, they'd call themselves the people in protection of the red plants. Which would spark outrage, which would spark a million other disagreements. Everyone had to share their opinion.

She tried to remember what she was like when she was a nineteen-year-old girl, what would have caught her attention? Nothing that a proactive teen would have liked. So she started over. Something catchy, something that would make people feel like they were accomplishing a goal. A couple of slow and meaningless clicks took her to a forum she found pretty interesting; only for the imagery before her to change. Instead of a fuzzy blue screen, sat a black tweed bag. A palm landed flat on the tiny makeshift desk beside the laptop.

"Miss Greenaway."

"Lorayne."

Cass couldn't make out if this was a good expression or a bad one. The similarly tan-toned woman cocked a brow. "Come on, the others are headed to the hotel. You're rooming with me."

Silence followed.

"Don't look so disgusted."

"Sorry."

Elle grabbed the bag and took a few steps back.

"Well?"

Lorayne didn't budge, she was trying to find that forum again. "Well what?"

"They want us out of their office space."

"No, they don't."

"No, but we should give it back anyway."

"They won't use it." She was having a harder time navigating the machine for some reason. Maybe it had just been a miracle that she had been able to in the first place.

"Are you the type to work yourself to death?"

This comment grabbed her attention. She looked up cautiously and shook her head. There was a hint of genuineness to her voice. A hint of confusion too. "I'm not. It's only nine."

Elle's bottom lip hung open. "What can I say to get you to come along?"

The other debated then frowned and closed the laptop. "I'm coming. I'm hoping this isn't some sort of drinks after the workday type of ordeal."

They made their way out of the building, Elle took the lead as they walked down the street. There was enough semblance of a put-together town for that to be okay. Neither of them were worried about the figures that lingered behind them in the dark. Cassie could only guess there was some dinky motel down the road, and using the large rental vans wasn't needed for this trip.

"I can't believe you think so little of me."

Greenaway's tone was a little taught. Playful or not, best to play it safe. "Not really. I wouldn't blame you too much."

"Wow, how thoughtful."

"Sorry."

The streets were illuminated with bright neon signs, they did more work than the streetlights. It seemed every other was busted beyond repair. Some flickered, others were shattered from however long ago. "What were you and Hotchner talking about?"

She'd turn her head while walking. "Why do you ask?"

"Small talk. You're new to the team and we haven't spoken much."

"Do we need to?"

"Are you always like this?"

Cass pressed the tip of her tongue against her cheek. Her lips pursed. "Not always."

"You and Morgan seem to be friends."

"I could say the same about you and Reid."

Secretly she was hoping that comment would elicit a reaction. They locked eyes, both hoping for the same thing. It didn't come in the way they were looking for, but they'd laugh anyway. Elle's was cathartic to hear. Cassie's was stifled by her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry." She waved a hand after composing herself.

"Stop saying that. You can say sorry by telling me what you and Hotchner were talking about."

She was getting tired of having to owe people. "Does it have to be truthful?"

Elle thought about it for a moment, almost genuinely pondering her question.

"Preferably."

"We used to know each other."

"Well, I figured that much."

"That's about it. He asked me how I was, I think."

The sidewalk got worse the further they walked. Which probably meant the hotel was close. Within another minute or so of walking it was across the street. A two-story little thing, painted blue with brick accents. There weren't many cars parked outside. Save for a BMW and a rental.

"Hotch took care of the room arrangements earlier. JJ lucked out, a whole room to herself." Elle flashed the one steel key on the metal ring. Their room was on the second floor. Two beds were covered in what was a scratchy wool decorative blanket. Two hard pillows, a thick white comforter that was tucked tightly beneath the mattress. It felt like what home was supposed to be.

Rifling through the bag she had taken from Elle, she pulled out a shirt that would look to be a little tight on her. She'd strip her own off anyways, and then her bra, and then her pants. Blatantly in the corner of the room. Little to no shame. Cass pulled the tight, graphic T on over her toned arms.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Elle opted to change in the bathroom. Lorayne didn't get it.

————————————

#criminal minds #dr spencer reid #derek morgan #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #x reader #bau team #elle greenaway #jason gideon #seeley booth #hannibal lecter #will graham #bones tv #hannibal #x oc #spencer reid x reader #derek morgan x reader #jj jareau #jj x reader

[hecatemoon87]

Mando Mad Max

In a galaxy far, far away...

Chapter Three: Blaster Lesson

Meira sat in a holding cell of the ship that came to rescue them from Hoth. Since Max's ship was unrecoverable, they were now headed to an outer rim planet to get him a new one.

She was annoyed that after their sexual encounter, Max had still locked her up. She was sitting there, arms folded and glaring at the wall.

The sound of the cell door unlocking brought her focus back, and she saw it was Mad Max. He was dressed in full Mandalorian attire, helmet covering his face.

"Let's go," he said.

She stood up and brushed past him. The other Mando that had saved them had not removed his helmet either, and he had not given his name.

"I only have a holding cell on the ship, not in the compound," the other Mando said, his radio like voice crackling.

Mad Max nodded and came over to Meira. "Hold out your hands," crackled his voice.

She glared at him but obeyed. He snapped a pair of restraints on her wrists and then the three of them left the ship.

It was a lush planet that they had landed on, very similar to her home planet, Naboo. And that made her panic.

"Where are we?"

"Don't give her any coordinates," Mad Max said, leading her along.

"You are unbelievable! After what happened between us?!" Meira said in anger.

The other Mando glanced back but minded his own business. The ship had landed within a medium-sized compound. He led them to a structure that she supposed was his living quarters.

"You know which room, Max," the Mando said once they entered the home.

Max took Meria by the hand cuffs and guided her down the hallway. He stopped in front of the door, and it slid open.

They went inside, and Meira sat on the bed. Max then squatted down in front of her, but she refused to look at him.

"I'm going to unload my cargo from Un Hango's ship. I'll remove the restraints, but I'm locking you in," Max said, his voice crackling through the helmet.

"Whatever," she said, extending her hands out so he could remove the cuffs.

He took them off her and pocketed them. Then, without saying anything further, he left.

Meira stood up and walked towards an oval window in the room. When she looked out, she could see the ship in the yard.

Max and apparently, Un Hango, opened the ship and started unloading it. After several minutes of watching this, Meira grew bored and scanned the room.

At least there was a bathroom with a shower. She got undressed and slipped in the shower. The hot water felt good after being stuck on a frozen planet.

She stepped out and was drying herself when she heard the door to the main room open. Then there were feet walking quickly to the bathroom door. The door flew open and Meira tried covering herself with the towel.

It was Max, of course, and as soon as he saw her naked, he backed away and closed the door.

"I thought...I thought you had escaped," he said from the other side of the door.

"Next time, knock!" She shouted.

When she came out, she had dressed again, but Max was gone. She sighed and sat on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

Another hour later, he had returned with a tray of food. He still hadn't taken his helmet off. As he placed the food in front of Meira, she said, "Coward."

"What?" Max asked.

"You're a coward. You are hiding behind your stupid helmet because you can't look me in the eye," she said, popping a piece of food in her mouth.

He paused, then in a quick jerk, yanked his helmet off.

"There, are you happy?" He said.

Meira casually nibbled on another piece of food. "No, I'm not. And fuck you, by the way."

Max shook his head, "What happened back on Hoth is irrelevant. You're still my prisoner."

It was Meira's turn not to look at him. She just looked ahead and continued eating. Max stood there watching not knowing what else to do.

He then sighed heavily and left.

Max walked back to the common room where Un Hango was eating. The fellow Mando slid a tray of food over to Max who joined him at the table.

"Who's the girl?" Un Hango asked.

"Bounty. Captured back on Jakku," Max said, shoving some food into his mouth.

"She seems pretty pissed. And not about being captured," Un Hango said chuckling.

Max shrugged his shoulders and continued eating. Un Hango watched him and picked up a bit of food himself. But before eating, he said, "How's the hallucinations?"

Max kept his eyes cast down and shook his head.

"Still bad?"

Max swallowed and looked over at Un Hango. "I don't want to talk about it."

Un Hango nodded, and the two ate the rest of their meal in silence.

The next day, Max came for Meira. He left her locked in her room overnight, and he slept in the common room.

"Come on," he said, motioning his hand for her to join him.

"Where are we going?" Meira asked hesitantly.

"Un Hango doesn't see you as a flight risk. He says you can walk the compound as you please," Max said.

"You told him I wasn't a very good rebel, didn't you?" She said, following him out of the room.

"I explained you crashed your ship and don't know how to shoot a blaster," he said, striding out into the compound.

"Well, that's just rude," Meira said, stopping to glare.

Max didn't slow down, and she ran up to walk next to him. "What are you doing?" She asked.

He slowed to a stop and extracted his blaster. He aimed it at a can sitting on the compound wall and fired. It was a direct hit, knocking the can clean off.

"You try," he said, handing her the blaster.

She looked at it with uncertainty. "What if I use it on you?" She said.

"Then I'll just stand right in front of you. I'm at least offered a 99.9 % chance you'll miss," he said.

She grabbed the blaster from him, annoyed. "Fine, now what?"

"Aim, shoot," he said, pointing at the other can.

Meira lifted the blaster and tried to focus on the can. Then she squeezed the trigger, and the can stayed where it was. "Whatever, it doesn't matter if I'm a bad shot. I'm going to be stuck on Naboo, unable to live my own life thanks to you."

Max took her by the arm and guided her in front of him. Now behind her, he instructed her. "Hold your weapon firm, but don't squeeze it," he said next to her ear. His hand guided her hand.

Meira almost shivered at his touch and gravelly voice. She remembered their kiss and her knees almost buckled.

His hand then guided her arm upwards, leveling it out. "Keep your eye on the target, and breathe," he said, his hand moving back up to rest on her shoulder. "You're too tense, relax. Then, squeeze the trigger and breathe out as you do so."

She felt his body behind her, that familiar warmth from just a day before. She did as he said, and fired. The can flew off the wall.

"Did you see that?! I did it!" She squealed with excitement. She turned around and hugged him and then pulled back, embarrassed.

"Oh, sorry," she said shyly. She looked at his face, expecting him to appear unaffected, but he was smiling. It wasn't a big smile, just enough that she could tell that the Mando was happy.

#tom hardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tom hardy fanfic #tom hardy fan fic #star wars #mad max #mad max au #mandalorian

[fountainpenguin]

Upcoming Fanfic Preview - WordGirl

Obligatory "Doesn't have links so it will show up in tags" post

So here's a funny story! Back in 2018, I started a multi-chapter WordGirl 'fic about Kid Math adjusting to life on Earth and bouncing between foster families because he keeps blowing his secret identity and/or picking fights. It's called "Factor It In!"

The 'fic was shelved because of school, pandemic, and job, but I always wanted to bring it back. If you liked my "WordGirl and Kid Math show up at villain karaoke night" one-shot, "AlgoRhythm," you might like this sequel fic too.

Full cover image + links on my blog June 16th!

Chapter 1 goes live on FFN + AO3 on June 16th (FountainPenguin), plus I'll do my usual announcement post for blog followers. Enjoy! :'D

Factor It In - First 1,800 words under the cut!

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Minor content warning for this snippet - Canon-typical implied backstory trauma (Potatoes, bruises, neglect).

---

FACTOR IT IN

Order of Operations

.:: January 3rd - Saturday ::.

"One must be taught his place if orderly structure is ever to be maintained."

(Ancient Hexagon proverb)

➕ ➖ ✖️ ➗

Psst! Look for the words independent and uneasy

---

It's a chilly winter afternoon in the home of Milo and Miah Pirakell, who have just received a familiar visitor on their doorstep…

HELP!

The word hovers like a sugar cube on the end of his tongue. H-E-L-P exclamation point exclamation point… Milo stands there, as frozen as the snowboy, snowgirl, and snowmonkey in the yard across the street, quietly goggling the woman waiting for him on the front step. She isn't very tall, though the high heels help a ton with that. She smiles back at him. It's a pretty smile, her lips a sparkly glossy pink. Is she as nervous as he is? She's rocking back and forth on her toes, and he can't help but follow every movement.

Sandy blonde-brown hair. She kept it tied back in a bun. Does he know her? She looks sort of familiar, but this silent revelation doesn't stop the panicked heartbeat bouncing up and down inside his chest.

Help…

Maybe he's seen her face smeared across the newspapers or thrown across the TV screens. Is he about to be robbed blind in his own home? Does this woman have some sort of knock-out gas in that briefcase? He tightens his fingers on the door frame, saying nothing, until his wife's careful, loving hands grip onto his shoulder and pull him aside. Like a slug, he oozes at her command.

"Clarissa!" Miah - his beautiful, smiling Miah - pushes the door a little more open. "Please come in. Milo, you remember Mrs. Argent, our case manager with the foster system."

Milo peers at the sandy-haired woman again. Clarissa Argent, our case manager with the foster system. Yes. Yes, he does know her, though he's grateful for the set-up. He's struggled with memory problems all his life and Miah always grants him context like this when introducing someone he might not recall. Name. Job title. Location. Easy peasy.

Yes. He remembers. Her name's been on the calendar since yesterday, and he's been counting his heartbeats all this time. Clarissa Argent has eyes as silver as her surname, and she smiles up at Milo and switches her briefcase to her left hand. She extends the right for a shake. Milo blinks back at her, then uses two fingers to carefully adjust his glasses on his nose.

Clarissa. Case manager. Foster care.

"Would you like to come in?" he asks. His voice trembles when he says it, but neither Clarissa nor Miah mind at all. He grasps Clarissa's hand and gives it a shake. Sweat drips down his palm and smears across the creases of her fingers. He winces, but Clarissa's smile never wavers.

"Thank you so much for letting me visit. I wanted to get right down to it."

"Have a cookie," Miah offers, waving her into the living room. Milo stands blankly by the door, watching them go, until Miah glances back at him and gently motions for him to shut it so the snowflakes stay firmly outdoors. Right. He pushes it shut and locks it out of habit. He always locks the door when he's inside. Fair City is teeming with wild villains who could snap a lock like this in seconds, but it eases the anxiety very, very faintly anyway. Milo keeps his forehead to the door for three seconds, clicking through his memories and trying to remember why they're meeting with Clarissa.

Something's wrong… Help, help…

The girls are already chatting in the living room. Miah just redecorated in October, freshening up the place with a much more modern look. Clarissa hasn't visited since last April, so she's astonished by the changes and has to comment on every one of them. They even replaced the bulging, waterstained wood with nicer carpet.

Help…

Why is she here? This breaks the routine. Milo curls his fingers against the white door, blinking over and over as the world sways beneath his feet. Usually when there's a kid who needs a place to crash for the weekend, they get phone calls. Half the time, they aren't even "real" foster kids- just kids who temporarily lost track of their parents in some sort of villainous mishap like a cheesy tidal wave, a thunderstorm of bread slices, or a giant robot crushing the subway lines.

He's been there. Milo remembers all too painfully the chaos of his own youth, stranded and shocked in the road in the middle of a rainstorm while his house crumbled beneath the weight of potatoes before his very eyes. He'd been home alone after school. He was only eight. He's held a lot of shivering kids in his lap, rocking them back and forth while they watch something happier on the TV than the news. Even if he's fidgety, desperate to stay up to date with this crazy world they live in, and he can't resist flipping through the channels once he's safe inside his own bedroom.

Help…

Clarissa's personal visit does not take his anxiety down. But she's here, with Miah, and there are chocolate chip cookies waiting in the other room. And somewhere out there, one file folder away, is a kid who needs more help than he does. Milo inhales through his nostrils, counts to six, and exhales between his teeth. Though still uneasy, he peels himself from the door and trudges down the hall to join the two women in the living room.

Okay.

You have to take a step down from the hardwood floor to venture into the new living room. Milo does so, keeping his hand braced on the short handrail as he moves. He blinks at the bright lights, blinks at the snowflakes twirling on the other side of the open blinds, and blinks at Miah as she scoots closer to the pillows to make room for him beside her on the gray couch. Pleasantries are exchanged. Small talk. Milo, fidgeting, zones out for part of it, until he hears Clarissa shift the topic to the kid in question.

"He does need a close eye on him. Someone experienced with home security, who won't let him jump down from second-story windows. That's why I wanted to ask you in person. He's a very sharp-minded boy, Mr. and Mrs. M. Pirakell. Very kindhearted too."

Milo glances at Miah. She glances right back at him. "But…?" she prompts the case worker.

"Just… extremely independent." Clarissa drums her fingers against the top of her briefcase. "He's a loner. Very detached in conversation, struggling to pick up on social cues. He shows very little interest in anything beyond math, science, and music. Oh, and cross stitch. We're worried that the neighborhood kids he's currently around are bullying him in secret. He keeps slipping out through the windows and coming home an hour later covered in bruises. We were hoping to place him in a home where we can trust he'll be closely supervised, and the Pirakells are always the first to come to mind."

Of course they are. It's who they are. It's what they do. Milo stares at his toes, his heart plummeting towards the floor, even as the Narrator lets out a soft, breathy sigh above him. It's relief and amusement and gratitude all rolled into one, though nobody acknowledges it and the Narrator says nothing else. Miah glances uncertainly at Milo, then carefully speaks on behalf of them both.

"Clarissa… is this kid charmed? Is that why you're here to visit us in person?"

Charmed.

Silence.

"Well, yes."

Help…

"Didn't…" Milo fiddles for a moment with his wedding ring. "Um, didn't we put in our file that we might not be a good fit for charmed children right now?"

Clarissa rocks back and forth in subtle hesitation. Her long fingernails, painted turquoise, tighten in the ruffles of her black skirt. We did, Milo reflects, but says nothing as Clarissa drops her gaze to the file in her lap again.

"I saw you made that request, but… we're still facing a shortage of families, especially with the holidays. He's really struggling to get along at the group home. The staff suspects he and one of the other boys got in a fight just yesterday. If you reject the placement then I'll understand, but I at least wanted to meet with you in person so we could discuss any questions openly and face to face. His status is a little odd."

Help, help…

Miah slips her hand in Milo's then, tightening her fingers around his own. And he's grounded for a moment, firmly planted on the soft gray couch. No one's wailing for him. There are no invisible children on the floor.

There are lots of things he should probably ask. If the kid has siblings who have also been pulled into foster care. If any extended family members are known. If the kid will be transferring schools. If there are special food needs to keep in mind. If he has any appointments with doctors, dentists, sports teams, or music recitals just around the corner. If he likes to walk. Milo does a lot of walking, though Miah prefers long drives along the coast. What's the child's cultural background? Did he have a nice holiday? Are there parental visitations planned? If he and Miah say yes, will the child arrive tonight, and if so, has he had a chaotic morning? All these questions are things he can, and should, probably ask first.

But he doesn't.

Because his heart is pounding and his fingers look like dancing worms.

"Well…" Milo draws in a long, careful breath. He slowly releases it again, lowering his chin to his chest along with it. It does help him focus, but it doesn't calm the rapid kicking in his heart. "Okay, then. If he's charmed, what, uh, range of powers does he have? L-let's put that in the open first, before we talk about anything else."

There. He feels guilty just for saying it. He can feel the Narrator's wispy silence like the breath of a ghost above his head. It makes the hairs behind his neck stand on end. Milo bites his lip, squeezing Miah's hand, and she squeezes back in gentle reassurance. Maybe it's not an unfair question. Even though it nibbles at his skin.

But it's important. It might make a difference. He can't do invisibility again. He can't.

The lines around Clarissa's eyes crinkle with relief. She pulls her briefcase on her lap and clicks it open. Idly, Milo glances at the numbers on the combination when she tilts back the lid. Then he hates himself. Clarissa picks up a manila file folder and passes it over to Miah. "Yes, we've been looking into that… He's been staying in the group home over the holidays. So many families are out of town right now. I promise, I wouldn't come to you about this if I felt there was anything extreme in his file. He only has two powers that we know of. His skin will rapidly repair any open wound… and he can fly."

[ Factor It In - Full Chapter 1 available @ FFN / AO3 on June 16th (FountainPenguin) ]

#WordGirl #Kid Math #Exposition Guy #Factor It In #ridwriting #Arithmetic Lad #Satirical vocab alien child show

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Funnel clouds have been spotted in the PDX metro area the last few days. As a transplanted southerner, I am here to provide the following information to any PDX and PNW natives who may be understandably scared: 

Funnel clouds that aren’t touching the ground aren’t dangerous. They are, however, a sign of serious potential danger. Don’t get closer to them.

Once a funnel cloud touches the ground, it still may not go full tornado. In all cases, treat it like it’s gonna be a real asshole of a tornado. Stay the fuck away from it and stay the fuck inside. 

If the funnel cloud does become a tornado, you want a room or space with no windows or minimal windows as close to the center of your home as possible. This is why it’s common for people who live in tornado alley to hunker down in the bathroom. Bathrooms are usually somewhere within the interior walls of the house and have no windows. You want this because if the tornado goes full asshole and tries to take your house apart, it’s gonna have to work to actually get to you. And the number one way people get injured in tornados is when shit goes flying. Like window glass. Or the front door. 

You wanna be in the lowest part of your home. If you’ve got a basement that’s properly underground (not a walkout basement), that’s gonna be super safe because tornados go across, not down. If you DO have a walkout basement (a basement that you can exit to the yard without having to go upstairs), it’s still going to be the lowest point in the house. Just stay the fuck away from anything that can shatter or snap hinges. 

If you have time (you may not), hang blankets over the windows. If they get blown out by the tornado, the blankets will help contain the glass. 

For fuck’s sake, do not leave the safe spot until an all clear is signaled. Tornados can turn around. They’re dicks like that. 

If you’re outside near a ditch, jump in that thing. Lay flat. Cover your head with your arms. Tornados jump ditches. Culverts are a very iffy possibility because tornados throw shit around, and you could get stuck or flooded. Ditches are safer in this case because they’re open. 

Stay the fuck away from structures. Don’t hide under cars. Don’t hide under an overpass. Anything above you could fall on you. Anything next to you could stab you. Whole trees can get uprooted. Do not trust trees in a tornado. 

The usual emergency supplies rules apply during tornados. Hand-cranked radios. Back-up batteries for your phone. Flashlights, fresh water, canned food, blankets, etc. 

The actual odds of a funnel cloud touching down in the PNW are very low. Even in tornado alley, most funnel clouds never make it to the ground, and a lot more of them form up there. 

#emergency planning #tornados #funnel clouds

[creatorofuniverses]

Gt July Day 14 – Sleepover

This is a drabble from a new-ish story of mine. I haven’t posted much of anything for it yet, but that made it extra fun to write this today! For reference, it’s a story about children with superhuman abilities based on fairytales, the secret government program they’re a part of, and their very normal teacher/caretaker.

–––––––––––––––––––––

The subjects of Project Zeta were having a sleepover.

Well, technically it was an “overnight preparatory event”. The military admins had only agreed to it because there was a large field testing trip coming up soon – the first time the subjects of this particular top secret experiment would actually leave their carefully structured environment to see the real world – and Hannah had tentatively pointed out that it might be good to give them some practice on sleeping somewhere other than the rooms they had spent their entire lives in. After all, many of them had special needs, and some practice in a more familiar place seemed only prudent.

Once it had been agreed to, however, Hannah had also made sure to read aloud chapter books that included sleepovers during lesson times. The subjects of Project Zeta were still kids, after all. So this overnight event was also a sleepover, and they had some idea of what that might normally entail for kids their age.

Needless to say, they were very excited. The sleepover was happening in Bean’s room, since he couldn’t exactly sleep anywhere else. He was already nearing fifty feet tall, and since he had only just passed his eleventh birthday, he was sure to keep growing. There was a reason his nickname referenced the beanstalk, after all. Everybody else could easily have slept on his bed with him (and the kid had suggested the idea with a familiar touch-starved vigor) but Hannah had gently talked him out of it. This might be the only practice the kids got before being deployed to god-knows-where to do god-knows-what, so she wanted to give them the best shot possible.

Military-issue sleeping bags and cots had been provided. Even though Hannah’s own house was only about thirty yards away (nestled against the wall of Bean’s huge atrium like a dollhouse, though it was a normal two-story house) she had agreed to sleep out near Bean’s bed with the kids. They needed a chaperone, and she worried about them. Plus, most of them really wanted her to be a part of things. So there were six cots clustered near the head of Bean’s frankly enormous air mattress, each with a professionally rolled sleeping bag and very little else.

Not that the military’s idea of minimalism would stop Hannah. She was determined to let the kids have fun.

To this end she was standing in her kitchen, gathering the snacks and juice boxes she’d requested earlier in the week. She heard the front door open behind her, and then a little voice piped up from the open archway leading to the living room. “Miss Hannah?”

Hannah turned around to see Rose, a little girl of eight, standing there. She’d hit a growth spurt recently but she was still rather petite, skinny arms and legs sticking out of the black uniform everybody but Pea wore. She was very into twisting her hair these days, and all the small twists had been pulled back into one chunky ponytail, held with a red ribbon. A champagne-colored cloth mask covered her mouth, but her eyes were bright and happy. “Do you need any help?”

Smiling down at Rose, Hannah replied, “Yes, thank you for asking, Rose. Could you carry some stuff out to the sleepover spot for me?” Rose nodded and soon enough accepted a couple of chip bags from Hannah, holding them as best she could in her little arms. She marched out of the room, taking her job very seriously, and Hannah followed her with the rest of the supplies.

The rest of the kids were waiting for them by the cots. Bean sat on the end of his bed, his bare feet larger than the cots they were next to, and his shadow covered half of the assembled gathering; but the other kids were more than used to Bean and didn’t seem to notice his giant presence overmuch. (Or the fact that he had leaves for hair, which still sometimes took Hannah by surprise, even after a full year of being his custodian.) Piper, who was ten and the only other boy, had tried hard all week to act like he was above this sort of party nonsense; but the moment Rose showed up with chips he offered to carry them, and the two set about finding a place to put all the snacks. Hannah handed off the juice boxes to Briar (who seemed just as excited to help), nudged Wolf into helping (since she didn’t seem inclined to) and walked over to the last child, standing at the edge of the group.

“Pea?” Hannah quietly prompted. She didn’t have to, of course – Pea had heard, seen, and probably smelled her from a mile away, given the girl’s hypersensitivity – but it was only polite. “Are you doing okay? I know this is a lot more excitement than usual.” Given Pea’s talents, it was all too easy for the young girl to get overstimulated, though she was a champ about it.

Even now Pea only turned her face up to give Hannah a small smile, her eyes nearly invisible behind her heavy-duty sunglasses, but crinkled slightly in happiness all the same. “I’m fine,” she reassured Hannah, her voice cadenced and particular, if still young. “Thank you. It’s just like class, but later in the day.”

Hannah smiled back. “Yes, very similar,” she agreed. “Do you have anything special with you for sleeping?” Pea’s normal bedroom was practically a sensory deprivation tank. A cot and a sleeping bag, while surrounded by six other people, was a big enough change that Hannah had worried about Pea all day.

Not just Pea, either… Hannah worried about Bean, given that he normally woke up with the sun, and wasn’t used to sharing his sleeping space. She knew Wolf could get a bit territorial, and there was no telling what the girl could pull out of her mouth. She doubted that Rose slept with her mask, but if the girl made any noise overnight without it, they could end up with anything from a bat to a diamond joining their slumber party. Piper was fairly normal all told (though she might ask him to control the bat if something like that actually did happen).

“No,” Pea replied, breaking into her thoughts, “but don’t worry, Miss Hannah. I think we’ll all sleep just fine.”

Hannah blinked and glanced back down at her. “Why’s that?” she asked. It seemed to her like they could all have a lot of trouble getting to sleep.

It wasn’t Pea who answered, but Bean. He leaned over, making a lot of noise while doing so, and his shadow stretched over the two of them. Hannah had to all but crane her neck back to look up at his earnest face. He was looking at her like she had missed something obvious, but he’d almost certainly tell her whatever it was. “‘Cause, Miss Hannah,” he said, “we’re sleeping with Briar tonight.”

“Oh.” Hannah suddenly felt like a huge idiot for worrying about the rest of it all. “Right.”

The kids were all special, there was no denying that. Bean photosynthesized, Wolf had access to some kind of alternate dimension, Rose could summon a swarm of bees just by being upset; but the moment Briar fell asleep, everybody else would as well. It made the majority of Hannah’s concerns a moot point entirely. The little girl’s bedroom was lined with who knows what kind of insulating material, but if she was sleeping with the rest of them, they were guaranteed to feel the effects of her uncanny ability.

Hearing her name, Briar looked over from the newly designated snack pile, her blue eyes wide and her blond ringlets bouncing a bit with the motion. “I promise I won’t fall asleep early!” she called over, sounding genuinely concerned about it. Being able to stay up later than usual was a staple of sleepovers according to all the storybooks, after all, and since she was the youngest she was probably the least suited to it. “I’ll wait until everybody’s ready!”

Hannah offered her a smile. “That’s alright, Briar, I believe you,” she reassured the kid. She walked over towards the rest of the group, Pea close behind, and diverted their attention to more fun things. “Until then, we have plenty of snacks and juice. Bean, I even got some gallons of juice for you to try. So let’s have some fun, hm?”

A delighted cheer rose from the small group of kids and Hannah’s smile grew. Unusual or not, these kids were about to have a great sleepover.

#my writing #project zeta #gtjuly #gtjuly2022

[bethestaryouareradio]

Plant this! Don’t Plant that!

Share StarStyle® Empowerment 

“Kings and cabbages go back to compost, but good deeds stay green forever.” ~ Rick De Marinis

Have you ever thought good deeds may be planted? So many of the flowers, bushes, trees, and vines that we use in our gardens can be both good and bad. Some plants that are excellent in one yard are a disaster in someone else’s landscape. Most of these plants are sold at nurseries and garden centers. The key is knowing what will be best for your garden.

In this article, I will share what has worked for me and what has not. I call my hypothesis, “Plant this, but don’t plant that!” 

Jasmine

As I open my living room doors, the sweet fragrance of jasmine fills the room. If you want a fast-growing vine to cover an arbor, pergola, or fence, jasmine fills the bill. Every spring, the pink-tinged white clusters of delicious smelling blossoms will perfume your yard. Taking cuttings for bouquets will perfume your bathrooms and other areas without the use of any chemical sprays. As much as I love jasmine, I must also caution you that it can be an aggressive grower if not managed. Jasmine climbs trees and can also suffocate other plants. I am forever pulling strands from boxwoods and cutting vines that have climbed over azaleas. However, for me, the beauty, blooms, and heady scent throughout my garden pushes the positive check marks. Should you plant jasmine?  My verdict: Only you can decide.

Ivy

Three decades ago, a new neighbor wanted an instant green, easy-maintenance ground cover. Against my ardent appeals to not plant an invasive species, they chose ivy. Those neighbors are long gone, yet thirty years later, I am still battling that ivy that crawled under and over fences. I’m sure other neighbors are also attempting to eradicate it. Ivy boasts glossy-green leaves, creates beautiful topiaries, and in many parts of the country, ivy is welcome, even coveted. Yet here in California, this rapidly growing species harbors rats, strangles trees, damages structures, and is almost impossible to completely contain. My verdict: DON’T PLANT IVY!

Lilac  

When lilacs bloom, spring has arrived. Lilacs are known for their beautiful, fragrant flowers in colors of white, pink, lavender, purple, and blue, which add an attractive touch to any landscape. My mother grew the most spectacular lilacs and I am continuing the tradition. Lilacs are low-maintenance plants that thrive in a variety of soil conditions and climates, making them a versatile choice for gardeners. Beyond their aesthetic appeal, lilacs provide valuable ecosystem services. Bees and hummingbirds are attracted to the delicious and substantial nectar produced by lilacs. Some studies suggest that the scent of lilacs may have a calming effect on the human nervous system, making them a great choice for creating a relaxing outdoor environment. My verdict: Plant this.

Euphorbia

While euphorbia may be a beautiful and eye-catching addition to a garden because of the chartreuse-colored blooms, it is important to exercise caution when considering planting this species. Euphorbia contains a toxic sap that can cause skin irritation, and in some cases, severe allergic reactions. In addition, euphorbia self-seeds and spread quickly, making it difficult to control and invasive. Seeds from euphorbia blew into my garden from the surrounding hillside. At first, I was thrilled because I had seen this specimen in the nursery and thought the color was so unique. A single plant multiplied the following year to hundreds, then thousands, suffocating and killing most of my other plants as the roots strangled other roots. For the past five years, I have been pulling plants by hand and discarding them into the garbage bin. Despite my earnest efforts, euphorbia still invades my orchard and attempts to creep into my garden beds. My verdict: DON’T PLANT EUPHORBIA.

Mock Orange

The mock orange tree, also known as Philadelphus, is a beautiful flowering shrub that produces fragrant, white, or cream-colored blooms that attract butterflies and hummingbirds. This shrub is relatively low-maintenance and easy to grow, making it an ideal choice for novice gardeners. It is often used as a natural screen or hedge, providing privacy, and adding aesthetic value to your outdoor space. I planted my two trees next to a brick stairway to enjoy the soothing and relaxing fragrance as I passed.  Prune and shape the way you wish. My verdict: Plant this.

Poisonous Hemlock

Despite being highly toxic to humans and animals, poisonous hemlock was introduced to the United States from Europe as a decorative plant in the 1800s. All parts of the plant are poisonous. It contains a toxin called coniine, which can cause respiratory failure, paralysis, convulsions, and ultimately death if ingested in large amounts. (Remember Socrates?) Poison hemlock is a member of the carrot family and resembles Queen Anne’s lace. Hemlock is easy to identify by the crimson streaks on the stems. The leaves are fern-like and the white flowers delicate, but beware, this invasive plant grows to twelve feet or more and is very difficult to eradicate with its long tap roots. Wear protective clothing when pulling or mowing. Do not put the plant in the compost pile. Dispose of the entire plant in the garbage and make sure that the seeds have not spread. Like euphorbia, poison hemlock seeds blew in from the adjacent open space and began to take over my hillside. Euphorbia and hemlock often grow in tandem. Both are extremely difficult to control. Every year I get a bit closer to extermination, but plants still find their way to grow. My verdict: DON’T PLANT HEMLOCK!

Roses

Many people believe that roses are challenging to grow and not worth the effort. The thorns are also a major turn-off. Despite my many scratches, I find roses to be one of the most rewarding plants in my garden with a blooming time that lasts nine or ten months. Although I’ll plant a rose from any breeder that captures my fancy, most of my roses are David Austin English roses which were hybridized to combine the characteristics of old-fashioned roses with the repeat flowering of modern roses, resulting in a stunning range of colors, shapes, and sizes. They are also highly fragrant, producing a delightful scent that fills the air and lifts my spirits. I grow climbing, rambling, tea, shrub, and more. Deadhead as flowers fade to encourage continuous blooms. My verdict: Plant this.

As you probably deciphered, I adore plants that supply flowers, fragrance, pollinator benefits, and beauty to my garden. I’m willing to do a bit of extra work to experience the specimens on my “plant this” list, but I do not recommend any of the “do not plant” groups.

We will all return to compost one day but meanwhile, what good deeds will stay green in your garden?

Happy Gardening. Happy Growing.

Read Digging Deep with Cynthia Bria: https://lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1707/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Plant-this-Dont-plant-that.html

Raised in the vineyards of Napa County, Cynthia Brian is a New York Times best-selling author, actor, radio personality, speaker, media and writing coach as well as the Founder and Executive Director of Be the Star You Are!® 501 c3. 

Tune into Cynthia’s StarStyle® Radio Broadcast at www.StarStyleRadio.com. Her newest children’s picture book, No Barnyard Bullies, from the series, Stella Bella’s Barnyard Adventures is available now at https://www.CynthiaBrian.com/online-store. Hire Cynthia for writing projects, garden consults, and inspirational lectures. [email protected] 

Share StarStyle® Empowerment

More:

https://lamorindaweekly.com/archive/issue1707/Digging-Deep-with-Goddess-Gardener-Cynthia-Brian-Plant-this-Dont-plant-that.html

https://cynthiabrian.substack.com/p/plant-this-dont-plant-that

#goodplantsbadpantsgardencynthiabriangoddessgardenerlamorindaweeklystarstyleempowerment

[propertytours]

Matterport rates are increasing but you do have options.

Matterport rates are increasing but you do have options.Matterport rates are increasing but you do have options. Get to the point, the charges. Krpano or Matterport, which is better for your 360 tour. There are at least 20 different virtual tour platforms that will provide an emersive 360 tour of a property. I started out 9 years ago using Krpano as my tour builder and slowly adapted Matterport because that's what the market was asking for. The biggest and most important differences are cost and the dollhouse. In my opinion if you take out the dollhouse Krpano provides a better 360 experience. Not only is it easier to navigate but allows for multiple locations in a shoot. Matterport will sometimes allow you to take an outside view and have it be a part of the main project and sometimes it will not. If our project contains a main building and another structure (like the house and then the shop) Matterport requires two projects. And since the photographer (me) pays Matterport based on live projects the customer has to pay additional fees for the second project. With Krpano we still have to shoot two structures, but can also shoot open yard areas without hesitation, All of the panoramas may used in one presentation or multiple presentations can be provided. Matterport's greatest drawback for the photographer is that it can get lost during the scanning process. An example would be getting to a landing and having bedrooms to the left and to the right. We scan the rooms to the left and then come back to the landing and the project gets lost and we have to start all over again. With Krpano, we assemble the tour back in the office and have complete control. Matterport charges us based on how many live projects we have online. We are charged in blocks and they are expensive blocks. There have been times when we only go over limit by 1 or 2 scans but the charges cover 25, so we are paying for 23 that don't exist. With Krpano, I host the projects on Property Tours servers. Matterport will start charging for Archived Spaces, projects that may never be needed again, but that's a big maybe, we will start deleting archived projects. With Krpano, all the scans and tours are saved on our computers and are are available anytime and areprobably still live on the original Virtual Tours we built for your property. Ultimately, it depends on what you need the tour for and what you want to achieve. Both Krpano and Matterport have their strengths and weaknesses. In conclusion, Matterport will cost more and will go away after the sale of the homes or expiration of the listing. Read the full article

[metaldragonsteelwings]

Rejuvenate Your Home With These Simple Home Improvement Tips

From that deck in the back yard to the window seat in the living room, there are many types of home improvement jobs homeowners attempt to take on every day. While most of these jobs end up successful, some people inevitably bite off more than they can chew. Read these tips so that you don't become "some people."

If you are working on a new home improvement project, make sure that you are complimenting your environment rather than fighting against it. If you are in an area that has high winds, then you most likely will not be spending much time outside. As such, it probably would be in your best interest to work on indoor arrangements. By the same token, you can still enjoy the outdoors, by simply adding a glass structure. This can help block out the environment while still providing you with an outdoors atmosphere.

Before you commit to a new paint color for the exterior of your home, spend some time driving around and looking at homes that you like the look and color scheme of. Paint chips are too hard to envision, so seeing it in person can help you make a better decision.

Use carpet samples to carpet a whole room! Retail stores often throw away their samples. Cut each sample up into smaller pieces and tack or glue them into place for free floor covering. Cut them in identically sized pieces for a tile effect or cut them in irregular geometric shapes for an abstract look.

When you buy furniture, avoid busy upholstery pieces, recliners, sofas, couches, and chairs. If you choose a love seat with an elaborate floral print pattern, you just decided on your home decor in advance. Instead, consider solid, neutral tones so that your decor is easy to change with the seasons, trends or your mood. Add patterns through pillows, blankets and drapes instead.

Before investing in new hardwood floors, check with a professional, about looking at the current floors in your home. Sometimes, you may have beautiful, natural hardwood hiding underneath layers of carpet or linoleum, that is just waiting to be refinished. You will wind up with a nicer looking, higher quality floor for less money.

It can be quite enjoyable and rewarding to do your own home improvement. Making a solid plan from helpful information is an essential part of doing your home improvement project the right way. This can reduce errors in the future.

Read more here Water Softener Benefits The Villages

#Water Softener #Filter Water Softener #Whole House Water Softener

[gurugirl]

So the church I went to (I’m no longer Catholic) was in the middle of a city so the living space was about four floors high, the kitchen, dining room, the main priests office and the church office were all on the first level and each level up was like each persons own. So it was basically only two rooms, but it there was a doorway between that was basically like a living into dining room kind of setup like 6 feet wide but still like you could tell they were supposed to be separate. And the one I remember best he just had like white walls with black trim. So you’d get to the top of the stairs and the bathroom was off to one side and then you’d walk into his space and there was an office but he just had a desk in the middle of like an empty room, other than some bookshelves and some chairs, and then the adjoining room had his bed, dresser and a line of cages, and then the bathroom adjoined to that. If that makes sense, (I’ll send a drawing if not) but yeah so these visiting priests would like spend time at my house all the time and we’d have to go see them a lot and I just got super familiar with all of them. Even after my dads best friend became a priest, (he even paid for his schooling) he would still flirt with me, and I saw him at a funeral recently and he was still a little flirty.

The main area of the living area like the dining room was super ornate and like gold shit and really expensive looking furniture and then the kitchen was super basic again. There was a cute little back yard area too, but being in a city it was super small, but also hidden cause of the rest of the place kind of covering it. The only part that was creepy was there was a door to the catacombs like next to the kitchen, and that always freaked me out. Lol 😂

OHMYGOD - he flirted with you recently even? Dang! This is fascinating!

I've been to catholic churches before. I'm basing what I'm writing off of one I visited one time (in Wisconsin) where the priest had his parsonage just on the side of main building. It was like a tiny separate structure for the priest to live. I'm not sure where the other transitional deacons and priests were living, probably in the large main building in a set up like you describe, but I never got to know any of the priests or anything. I only knew what the outside of the priest's parsonage looked like and parts of the inside of the main building.

I'm curious about the cages but you did say they were for birds. Hmm... 🤔

Thank you for sharing with me!!

Xoxo

#ask

[sister-cna-reader]

WIP Wednesday

(On thursday night!)

tagged by @sarsaparillia

Original Work I started a few years ago and got put on hiatus due to work and college stuff.

The Cover Up (working title)

Prologue (Tragic backstory, involves child death)

~~*~~

Thomas wished his little snowbird was with him. He ached with how much he missed his little girl. Lonely nights, only broken by the sound of the hearth snapping, pained his head.  Only a few times had his gut burned with envy, watching his charge receive comfort and teasing from his parents.  

He missed brushing her thick white hair. He missed her soft voice, once so quiet and small. He wanted to bring her to the newest cafes, buy her the prettiest of dresses. Thomas wanted to have his little snowbird back. 

~

Thomas had a well appointed suite in the royal household.  It held its own balcony, a luxurious bathing room, and the bed was big enough for three grown men. But Thomas lived alone.  One man with no partner, or pet, to eat up the vast blankets. No child to wake him in the night for comfort.  

In the darkest, worst nights Thomas would relive the day of the dragon attack.  Ash clouded the skies, flames eating the buildings all around.  Although it was one of the worst disasters to hit the country since the Uprising, it might be one of the best days in his adult memory. For however horrific the damage was, Thomas had found his baby girl. 

Block by building block, he had helped citizens escape towards the shelter. They had little warning to evacuate sooner, and so he hadn’t gotten to the orphanage in time.  A huddle of children, the older ones holding the babies, toddlers clinging to the closest skirts, watched the rubble of their home smolder.  A Matron and two workers held the emergency buckets. Names were being hastily read off, a militaristic head count to see who had gotten out. 

The Matron had finished the list when Thomas got close. The elder woman held her face in a grim line. Not everyone had managed to get to the street. 

“Is there anything I can do?” he had asked the woman. Her eye held a brief moment on his face, then on the one standing wing of the building. It was black from soot, barely more than three corners with a roof. The windows were blown out, and the play equipment in the yard held up the remaining wall on the back end. 

“There are three unaccounted for. Two boys and a girl. They were coloring in the sunroom.” she nodded towards the partially standing structure.  “The rest of us were finishing supper in the great room when the attack started.” 

Her old frame shuddered.  “We are out of immediate danger of the dragon. Could you check the sun room to see if they survived?” 

Thomas had already started toward the building before she completed the request.  Even if the dragon had been subdued by now, the real danger lurked in the weak beams and charred walls. If the children did survive, he had to get them out now, before the walls collapsed. 

It was easy to get into the space, the floor to ceiling windows held no glass to keep the ash and cinders out.  Blackened walls held coal gray frames, children’s art reduced to wisps of white fluttering in the breeze. 

Two boys, no more than 10 years old,  were huddled around a smaller body. The boys were covered in ash, blood puddled from their heads, a chunk of beam, and a iron lamp laid not far from them. They did not breathe, their forms still. 

Thomas checked for signs of life anyway. No pulse, no breath. Entwined in the boy’s arms was a small girl. Barely more than a year old, she laid quiet, eyes closed. 

A whispered blessing for their souls left his lips as Thomas lifted the trio. He would not leave their bodies to be buried by rubble.  

Thomas was a large man, many had joked his mother must’ve been a giantess. The three children were easily carried in his arms, despite the dead weight.  When he stepped onto the street again, a cart was there, awaiting his burden.  The Matron helped lay the bodies into the cart, starting with one of the boys.  Their arms held fast to the little girl, refusing to let go even in death. The brothers were separated from each other while Thomas gently cradled the girl in his arms.  

Once they were laid side by side in the cart, fat rain drops splashed on the people in the street. Rain washed away the blood. The brothers looked almost peaceful now, laying in the cart. 

Thomas shifted the little girl, so he may lay her into the cart. Water spattered on her lashes, and she twitched from the sensation. 

Just a brief movement, just enough to plant hope into Thomas’ heart. He brought her face fully into the pelting rain. She flinched as the water ran across her cheek and past her ear. 

The Matron screamed for a medic, rushing to check the little one’s pulse. Her wisened hands rubbed the small chest, coaxing a warbled whine from the child.  A medic swept in and put a dropper to her mouth.  

Pearlescent potion dripped into the small mouth, the glow revealing ashy gums. A feeble swallow followed by another pitiful whine sealed the child’s survival in Thomas’ hands.  

Her dark curls were melting in the pouring rain. The medic mumbled  something about shock and that can be scary, but she should be fine.  Thomas ever so gently wiped the hair away, revealing pinking skin from the hot coals she had laid near.  

The baby’s eyes fluttered again. Her lashes were coming off in the rain too. The dropper was back at her lips, more potion to stabilize. She sipped weakly at it, but obediently. Clothes were quickly cut off of her, to check for any other burns or blisters.  Only her head and hands had anything to worry about, the cleansing rain making quick work of lingering soot or ash.  

Thomas watched, mesmerized when the baby in his hands opened her eyes. Eyes the color of his mother’s hope chest met his own gray ones. Warm brown eyes furrowed in discomfort at the cold rain, the many hands, and the awful taste of the stabilizer.  

He wouldn’t, couldn’t let her go. Not when taking her to the awaiting ambulance. Not when the nurses cleaned her in medicinal waters. Not even when the day had started anew, sunlight striking through the clouds outside the hospital window.  

She slept soundly in his arms and whined fretfully when pulled away. 

It had taken only a few hours of convincing, and a trade of labor helping rebuild the orphanage to adopt his little bird. 

It only took a week after bringing her home for her hair to start growing back. Tufts of snow white hair peeked out of the carrier on his back. Secure with him, Thomas went about his daily work, ready to gush with fellow parents about their child’s daily adventures. 

He had kept her name Mary. He more often used “Snowbird” to call his daughter. His birdy grew well, stronger every day. 

Father had took his time convincing Thomas to send Mary other relatives for education.  He knew the fight would be long to let Thomas set his Snowbird to fly. The contract to work under the Royal household was too good to pass up.  But with the Prince too unstable  in his powers, with a demon wolf to boot, the Royal household was no place for his powerless Mary. 

So at 10 years old, he sent Mary to live with relatives on the Coast for a year. Then  she went to live a year up North, and then a few months in Savont. For the next 16 years, Mary was placed with relative after relative, broken only by visits from her dear Papa once a year. 

#oc writing #The cover up #I could rework this into a Spy Family fic #but I don't know if I want to

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Okay, here we go. This is a fully remodeled 1920 Victorian in San Antonio, Texas. It has 2bd. 2ba. and is listed for $449,500. I’m so fascinated by this remodel, I had to share it- what do you think of this renovation?

New porch, don’t know if the doors are original, but they’ve been painted yellow. I don’t like how you can see right inside the house.

New lighting and reproduction letter box.

The entrance hall with blue wood and ceiling.

Another unusual feature- a wine rack in the hall. 

Something tells me that this wasn’t originally a dining room. I can see some of the original woodwork, but it’s all covered in blue. The ceiling was replaced by wood to match the new floors. 

The combination living room/kitchen was completely opened up. 

The kitchen isn’t terribly large. They didn’t add new cabinets, just repainted some of the dated oak cabinetry. 

All of the walls have been re-drywalled. 

This bath has a clawfoot tub, modern vanity and big black bowl sink.

This is the main bd., b/c there’re only 2.

I don’t know why they did this. I don’t like the transition. Maybe if the patterns were more closely related.

I’m going to say that the garbage pails are probably behind that fencing.

The yard is a mess. Looks like there was some kind of structure that was taken down back here.

https://listing.brightandearlyproductions.com/bt/1123_W_French_Place_Full_Reshoot.html

#remodeled victorian #houses #house tours #home tour

[southeastextensions]

5 Essential Tips on House Development Services

Introduction: Let us face the fundamental truth that home changes, developments, conversions, and extensions will happen. That also means new building plans and garage extensions that create extra working and usable space or landscape plans.

Having and creating a new building is a common aspiration at any stage. And people have varied tastes when it comes to building designs and decor. These are essential when choosing house development service providers, companies or consultants.

(a). Technical expertise that enhances trust. The more experience the house extension services firm has, the better.

(b). Cost-effective solutions that make building affordable.  

(c). Insurance that covers potential accidents and mishaps or damages.

(d). Health and safety concerns ensuring all are well taken care of.

(e). Customer care engagement matters to infuse faith and confidence.

(f). Building materials supply chain management with easy availability.

(g). Sustainable and eco-friendly development solutions.

(h). Customer positive reviews and endorsements with a positive image.  

Benefits of New Building Construction Services

There are several things that customers can tap into by choosing the right development services. These are some vital ones.

- Increased overall space – a good house extension services firm can create space adaptable for several other things like residential purposes, work, storage, or recreation and entertainment. Spacious homes feel relaxing  

- Better architectural outlook – any initial flaws or limitations are improved or reoriented with a fresh design perspective.

-  Build a Home or House You Love – the benefit of new building construction is the option of creating a house that suits you well. Everything is done professionally, from the initial plans and designs to the supply of materials and the construction.

- Build and construct at competitive rates – house extension or conversion services can still be high and forbidding. For most potential customers, the forbidding factor is always the costs. It may prove exceptionally high from consultation, design, materials, and construction processes. However, the best home  

Are House Extension Services Necessary?

Since humans adapt and change over time, house use requirements and needs evolve. You may grow wealthy, and the single-car garage won't do, but a two- or three-car garage becomes necessary. It may be a case of an expanded family with a need for more rooms or residing space. Or better still, the current living room, dining room, and back or front yard need redesigning to modern standards and feel. Or to incorporate modern aesthetics and features.

- House extensions or garage conversions become necessary to ensure optimum space accommodates all the present or new needs.

- Getting composite service quotes means convenience for the client from consultation, design, and construction. Even for garage conversion service, it is possible to access the best quality construction.

- Besides, no matter the project size, it is possible to access quality materials at competitive service pricing.

Summary: the best construction experts for new builds and extensions, construction experts. Getting the best-experienced services is key to ensuring your house or home structure lasts forever with a quality inner residency feel for all occupants.  

For Moe Info :- 

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garage conversion gillingham

Source URL :- https://sites.google.com/view/construction-experts-/home

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#construction experts

[swanrefund44]

Enhancing Apartment Surfaces Without Car paint Or Claws

Apartments rentals dwellers tend to be surprised to determine that the rental they have agreed upon strictly forbids the use of paint of finger nails on the flat walls, which usually presents a massive barrier to decorating their very own apartments to fit their personal style and tastes. In fact, most people indication a year's lease whenever they rent a condo. You can even now manage to provide your own unique design in an property that doesn't permit the employment of car paint or toenails - you simply need to be a little more creative. Cement adhesive Hooks and Putty There are many great goods out there that are made specifically for clinging pictures and wall artwork without having a nail ditch, like glue hooks or maybe putty. With adhesive hooks, you simply peel from the lime the back of this hook and secure it firmly to the wall to hold the object. Putties are usually kneaded into a certain shape after which applied to the bed of the subject, and then you press the thing firmly with wall pertaining to thirty mere seconds or so, with regards to the manufacturer's recommendations, until it sorts a tight store. Fabric Many people who reside in apartments are going to cover the walls in textile, which can be added up as long as tacks are allowed. You can purchase large pieces of cloth from any sort of craft retailer, in various designs and colors. Choose light-weight fabric to ensure tacks can hold it to the wall quickly. To apply the information to your partitions, place tacks along the fabric's upper borders along the leading of your divider. Fabric is sold in block yards, and so measure your wall before heading out to buy your fabric. You can apply either a component to the retaining wall or the complete wall. Daily news Tape You can also make a candy striped wall employing decorative newspaper tape this really is sold in a large number of craft supply stores and art supply stores. This type of tape is going to stick firmly to the wall structure and then just simply peel away when you're sick and tired of it or when you move. Experiment with several widths and colours to give your bare apartment wall surfaces a decorative punch. Posters Posters can be very pretty in flats where you simply cannot paint or maybe use toenails to hang lady. Look for best home wallpaper collection in subjects that organize with the style of the room whereby they will be strung. Choose good quality poster holding tape (available wherever cards are sold) to hang your posters while not causing any damage to the paint onto your walls. Convertible top Letters Also you can use convertible top lettering or perhaps vinyl sharp graphics to decorate your walls. Spelling out text like "faith", "hope" or "love" over a living area wall can be a great emotion. Or you can spell out your selected quote. Soft letters simply cling to the wall, so they won't destruction your wall structure or car paint. These are just a few of the options that you have when it comes to dressing up plain property walls. And maintain in mind the fact that if you question, many landlords will allow you to change the paint color in a room in case you agree written to return the space to their original color before vacating the condominium.

#website

[sophiamamamia]

From Mariupol.

Waiting for death

I go outside in between bombings. I need to walk the dog. It constantly whines, trembles, and hides behind my legs.

I want to sleep all the time. My yard, surrounded by high-rise buildings, is quiet and dead. I'm no longer afraid to look around.

Opposite, the entrance to the one hundred and fifth house, number 105 is burning down. The flames have devoured five floors and are slowly chewing on the sixth. In the room, the fire is burning gently, as in a fireplace. Black charred windows stand without glass. From them, like tongues, curtains gnawed by flames are falling out. I am looking at it calmly feeling doomed to die.

I'm sure I'll die soon. It's a matter of days.

In this city, everyone is constantly waiting for death. I just wish it wasn't too scary. Three days ago, a friend of my older nephew came to us and said that there was a direct hit on the Fire station. The rescuers died. One woman had her arm, leg, and head torn off.

I wish that my body parts remain in place, even after the explosion of an air bomb.

I don't know why, but it seems important to me. Although, on the other hand, they will still not be buried during the bombing going on. This is how the police answered us when we caught them on the street and asked what to do with our friend’s dead grandmother. They advised us to put her on the balcony.

I wonder how many more balconies there are with dead bodies laid down?

Our house on Mir (Peace) Avenue is the only one that has escaped direct hits. It has nearly escaped twice when hit by shells, windows flew out in some apartments, but it was hardly damaged, compared to other houses, and it looks lucky.

The entire yard is covered in layers of ash, fragments of glass, plastic, and metal.

I am trying not to look at the huge iron structure that has landed on the children’s playground. I think it's a rocket, or maybe a mine. I don't care, it's just annoying. In the window of the third floor, I see someone's face and I flinch in fright. It turns out that I'm afraid of living people.

My dog starts howling and I understand that now they will shoot again.

I am standing in the daytime on the street, and there is complete cemetery-like silence around me. There are no cars, no voices, no children, no grandmothers on benches. Even the wind died.

However, there are still a few people here. They are lying near the side of the house and in the parking lot, covered with outerwear. I don't want to look at them. I'm afraid I'll see someone I know.

All life in my city has been smoldering in basements. It reminds me of a flickering candle in our basement compartment. It is so easy to put it out. Any vibration or a gentle breeze and darkness will come.

I am trying to cry, but I can't. I feel sorry for myself, my family, my husband, my neighbors, my friends.

I go back to the basement and listen to the vile iron rattle there. Two weeks have passed, and I no longer believe that there was once another life here.

In Mariupol, people continue to sit in the basements. Every day it is getting harder for them to survive. They have no water, no food, no light, they cannot even go outside because of the constant shelling.

Mariupol residents must live. Help them. Tell everyone about it. Let everyone know that civilians continue to be killed.

Written by a resident of Mariupol, Nadiya Sukhorukova, translated by Laura Olla AZ Palmer.

#ukraine #russia #russia ukraine war #war #stop putin #stop russia #notallrussians #not all russians #russian culture #stand with ukraine #save mariupol #mariupol