#like….there was another tiny piece of poop on the ground today

[lyekisses]

i really think somebody or something put a curse on me

#like….there was another tiny piece of poop on the ground today #granted it was near the baby changing area not ON THE WALL #but still #is this my karma #for my thot crimes….for ****** * ***** #it must be!

[froggymarsh]

little gunpowder boys thing hi hello. pixl gets mad at fwhip in this one and there is some yelling + annoyance + arguing + vent regressing so beware yesyes

Pixlriffs is trying, desperately, to get things done today.

Even with the extended time he gets as he's adjusting to his new role as the newly crowned king of Pixandria, he’s behind schedule- blueprints for the newest section of houses shouldn’t be taking nearly this long to review, but he’s distracted by the overexcited heir to the Grimlands' throne.

Fwhip sits perched at the edge of his desk, swinging his legs after Pixl told him he couldn’t have them up on the desk itself. The movement of it is shaking the table, but Fwhip doesn’t seem to notice or care, looking down at the blueprints with interest. In his hand is a red and black juice box with a cherry design on the side. He sucks on air, making loud slurping noises, having finished the box ages ago. He's giddy and a little bit too excited to point out everything that’s wrong with the current plans.

“You’re going to want to rethink the positioning of your stables,” he says, pointing one gloved hand at a building next to the road that winds around the Vigil. Pix nods, making a note, and Fwhip pulls back to mess with the straw of his juice box- pulling it up and down rapidly. It squeaks. Loudly. “Unless, y'know, you want horses pooping all over your sacred grounds."

“Sounds as though you’re speaking from experience,” Pixl remarks.

“Something like that,” Fwhip laughs, and the straw flicks up and out of the box this time- “oh- whoops!”

Pixl’s nose wrinkles in annoyance as Fwhip accidentally splatters tiny red drops of juice all over the blueprints. The builders won’t be happy about that.

There's also little drops on his arm, and right now Pix isn't happy about that. He glares up at Fwhip, who offers a sheepish grin and goes back to chewing on his straw.

A juice box. The annoyance crescendos into something louder. By the gods, isn’t Fwhip a bit too old for juice?

"Here lemme just-" Fwhip leans over, using the end of his scarf to pat at the droplets. Pixl sighs, and Fwhip just laughs, "it'll work, it'll work! Trust me, here-"

He lifts his scarf. It's only made it worse, turning the small red speckles into far more noticeable smudges.

Pixl glares at him again. The crescendo comes with drums, now, his heart beginning to pound in his ears.

"Whoops," Fwhip says again, as if he didn't just ruin months worth of work, "I uh- let me-" he laughs, a little self consciously- "let me get some markers, I can probably fix that."

He slides off the desk, the movement jarring and causing a cup full of pencils to go toppling over the side, too fast for Pixl to catch on reflex, fingers closing on open air. He sighs. Fwhip looks sheepish, offering a far too playful smile as he scoops the pencils off the floor, back into the cup and places it back on the desk.

"Sorry," he offers. Pixl waves him off, scratching another note in the space between two larger blotches.

Fwhip honest to goodness whistles as he walks away, drumming on his pants as he exits the room, seemingly unable to go longer than ten seconds without making noise. He disappears down the hallway and Pixl gets about ten minutes of blissful silence before the half-vampire is sauntering back into the room.

"So I couldn't find any markers," he says, approaching the desk, "but I did find some blank paper and some crayons, so I figured I'd just redo the blueprints on here. Sound good?"

Pixlriffs sighs. It comes out more frustrated than he meant for it to be, "no, Fwhip."

"Please, Pix?" he hops up onto the desk again, "I can fix it, lemme fix it."

The annoyance spikes. So does his heartbeat. "It's still readable, Fwhip."

"But it could be color coded," he says, and there's a childish lilt to his voice now, softer, excited, "c'mon Pixie, please?"

"I said, no, Fwhip," Pixl nearly growls.

Fwhip huffs, frowning. He puts down a piece of paper, covering a small corner of the blueprint, and shuffles through his crayons. "I'm going to do it anyway."

Pixlriffs slams his hands on the desk, making Fwhip startle. He slowly begins to stand, rising to his full height, and Fwhip's head tilts up with him, their eyes locked. Fwhip shrinks under his glare, eyes wider at the sudden outburst, fingers gripping the crayon in his hand a touch tighter.

“Count Fail Whip, heir to the throne of the Grimlands,” Pixl snarls.

Fwhip’s face flushes at the use of his full title, but he doesn’t break eye contact. It’s far, far too formal for the friendship they’ve built, but it does its job. He has Fwhip’s full, undivided attention, crayons and paper forgotten.

“You. Are one hundred and fifty-seven years old,” Pixl reminds him. Fwhip’s cheeks turn scarlet, across the bridge of his nose and all the way to the tips of his pointed ears. “Act like it."

The silence is thick and unwavering. Fwhip's eyes gloss over- he's the first to break eye contact, looking away and swallowing.

Pixl glares at him. He's staring at the door across the office, unaware.

"Sorry," he whispers, putting his hands in his lap.

Pixl huffs- it's a short laugh with no humor- and sits.

"You said you'd help," Pixl says, "and you haven't been helpful for at least an hour."

Fwhip does not look at him. He sniffles again, one hand reaching up to wipe his cheek.

"I was trying to help," he answers. Without looking at him, he shows Pixl the crayon, nodding and setting it down on the desk, "I thought I was, lightening the mood or something, I guess. I thought..."

He trails off. Dares a glance at Pix, eyes snapping up and away again. He clears his throat. "Sorry."

"My architects cannot work with a crayon drawing."

Fwhip laughs, self conscious, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, "yeah. Sorry. Don't know what I was thinking."

"And you spilled juice on a blueprint we've been working on for three months."

Fwhip huffs, an echo of Pixl's same, bitter laugh, and climbs off the desk.

"I get the picture, Pix," he scoops his crayons back into their box and gathers up his paper, fangs on display as he snaps, "I'm afraid I'll have to cut our meeting short, but I really do wish you the best of luck with your blueprints."

Pixl bristles, "thank you, Count Fwhip."

"No problem, your highness," he snarls back, "best wishes to you and your kingdom."

With that, the Count takes his leave. Pixl half expects him to slam the door behind him, but instead it gently clicks, and Pixl is left alone in blissful silence.

He takes a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. It says there, elbow perched on the desk as he retrieves his pen with his other hand and gets back to work.

#do you know how hard it is to make these two argue. #IT'S SO HARD. #mcyt agere #pixl tag #fwhip tag #fwhip did regress a little bit during the convo. and then pix yelled at him telling him to act his age #so let's just say it'll be a while before fwhip regresses around pix again <3

[prorevenge]

Dung Log to the rescue: a tale of two neighbors

I live in an apartment complex in a fairly busy city. We pay a solid chunk of money to live in an apartment that is dog friendly, close enough to our university, and big enough to house a dog and my roommates two cats.

Now, I’m a fairly laissez-faire neighbor. I don’t bother you, you don’t bother me. We’re friendly enough that I know your name. I’ve never called my management on another tenant. I’d much prefer to talk to other tenants and make sure we talk it out. I’ve asked others not to smoke weed in front of my patio, to not play music loud enough under me that I hear it through my headphones as I try to work, and it’s all ended up fairly amicably. No issues. Until this woman in apartment, let’s call it 3V, while I was in apartment 1F.

My dog is small, 10-11 lbs. when I take her out, I always clean up after her, and we’ve never had any complaints.

3V comes knocking on the door, and is on the phone when I open. She was calling management to tell them my dog left poop outside the door. I’m a bit confused and I asked her what she was talking about to which she replied that as the only dog owner in this one building of the apartment complex (there are about 7 buildings all connected by the gated garden) my dog must have pooped outside the front door. I assured her that it wasn’t my dog, but I would be glad to pick up whosever dog poop that was. She hangs up on management. I go downstairs and there’s a massive dog poop piece. And I just stare at it, stare at my tiny yapper, and I’m like, whatever. Better to just calm her down and pick it up.

Things progress with no further confrontations until I come back in from taking my dog out in the morning to a sign that says “I SAW YOUR DOG POOP, I TOOK PICTURES AND IM SENDING THEM TO MANAGEMENT”. I’m so confused. It’s 8am, I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, I’m wearing a bright yellow bathrobe whose belt I lost and I have to hold it together with one hand. But this woman is convinced she caught my dog in the act. So I go to her door, knock, and she shows me pictures of... some random dog poop in the grass of the shared garden. I promise her that’s not mine, offer to pick it up, and say that we can access the managements security cameras if that would be enough to prove my dog’s innocence. She tells me to pick it up and closes the door in my face. I get an email from management giving me a warning.

A few months go by without confrontation. Her children come and ask to borrow my laundry cards on occasion and I’m happy to let them. It’s not their fault their mom is a bit insane. I’m also very nervous because I’m a college student. I can’t afford to lose this housing that we got lucky to find. I go to visit my family, taking my dog, in Europe (where my family lives). A few days later, I get a call from management at 2am my time telling me that there is a report that my dog peed in the lobby of our building. Now I’m getting a bit pissed. I’m not in the country. My dog is not in the country. And this woman is trying to blame what must have been a drink spill or water (since it was winter) on my dog. I call back and tell them exactly that, and they reply in a tired tone that since I was the only dog owner in that building, there was no one else to blame. I explain I’m out of the country, that I can send them my tickets, that they have no idea it was urine and offer when I get back to keep track of all of my dog’s ins and outs. They drop it and tell me that if they get another complaint, they’ll have to move to more serious repercussions. I’m scared, pissed, and really pissed.

I start keeping a daily diary with time stamps and pictures of my dog’s comings and going’s, the Dung Log. I’m very, very careful. I pick up other dog’s poop when I see it. I really don’t want to get evicted for something that wasn’t my fault. My sister comes to stay with us for the first part of COVID, and we give the dog a summer groom. A tiny dog, she didn’t produce much fur, but my sister was unaware of the neighbor and chose to put the fur outside on the patio and expected the wind to whisk it away. Then the door starts banging, and I go to check and Lo and behold, it is 3V. She’s telling me that I have to clean up the dog fur, I apologize and tell her that it was an accident. She tells me that she has a cat who will get upset if she comes back up the stairs smelling of dog. I’m a bit dumbfounded that this is her logic, but apologize and sweep the fur away.

The last straw. The straw the broke the camels back. The tip of the mother fucking cherry on top.

Reminder that I keep a detailed report of my dog’s ins and outs. I was going on a birthday celebratory hike a few hours out with my girlfriend for her COVID birthday. We needed to drive there nice and early, the hike was 6 hours total, and the drive was 2, so we were ready and getting the car from a leasing agency. Not a few minutes in, I get a panicked call from my roommate. I hear yelling on the other side and my roommate gets across to me that 3V is screaming at them about a smear of dog poop in the lobby that was clearly my dog. At this same time, my roommate was alone at home, a small college aged person talking very calmly to a older woman screaming in their face with their child next to them, just staring at the floor. I’m speechless. I can’t leave my roommate, so my girlfriend and I cancel our plans ON HER BIRTHDAY, and go back to help. By the time we come back, 3V is gone, but the cops have just left, because 3V called the cops on my gender fluid, 5’4” POC roommate because 3V claimed my roommate was harassing her. I was enraged. I called management and they told me that they’re putting a warning on our account and expect us out after our lease ends.

Not today, management. I biked my ass over with my roommate to the leasing offices and sat down with them. Before I left, I got our other neighbor’s accounts that 3V was screaming at my roommate, I took a picture of the “smear of dog poop” which resembled a wheel squeak on the ground (as two people were moving in to our building), and came armed with my poop diary (that I affectionately nicknamed the Dung Log). I showed them my evidence, backed with neighbors statements and they seemed shocked. To be fair, I had never complained back against this woman who that morning had called my roommate delusional, a bitch, and said that she pays too much to walk on shit floors. Like we didn’t pay the same amount. After running through it all, management took all the warnings off our account, put a warning on hers and told her if she bothers us again they would evict her, and even comped us some things.

I haven’t heard from 3V again, but the Dung Log lives on in infamy. Log may it reign.

(source) story by (/u/XtinaChaos)

#prorevenge #by /u/XtinaChaos #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

[blue---rose]

White Widow - Chapter Six

Fanfiction.net | AO3

Title: White Widow Chapter: Six Author: Blue Rose

Huge shout out to my new beta - CherryBerry12. Thank you :) 💖

“Jesus, what did you eat today? Where did it all come from?!”

If Sakura could, she would have pinched her nose closed, but she needed both hands for the task of bagging up the dog poop while keeping the leash out of it. She didn’t understand why dogs never watched where they were going and tried to keep Akumaru from stepping in his droppings before she could clean up.

Finishing, she tossed the mess in a waste bin they passed before crossing the street.

“That crap was almost as big as your head.” Sakura laughed.

The pair had just come from a small park at the end of the block and were now heading to their intended destination. On the surface, it was just a smart thing to do — letting the dog relieve himself before they needed to go inside. In reality, it was her just procrastinating. And she used every second of it.

However, the growing puppy didn't care much about taking a stroll today. Especially when they approached the towering highrise. This was his other home, and his panting and excitement signaled he knew exactly where they were.

"Ok! Ok! We're going."

Approaching the entrance, Sakura was careful to watch her step while she admired the way the evening sun reflected off the smoked glass and steel. There was a dark, eerie beauty she found in the looming structure before them.

 The last time she'd been here, a thin layer of snow had covered all of the asphalt. Frigid temperatures caused the flurries to stick to the ground like falling powder — perfect for making snow angels.

 She remembered that the exterior had been decorated with strings of twinkling blue lights as well with poinsettias arranged beneath the windows in a festive holiday display.

 Thank goodness the weather was not below freezing as it was prior, months ago. Though, that didn't stop a wave of nerves from washing over her, wondering again how she managed to get herself into another weird situation.

 Oh, yeah... that's right.

 It started with a favor.

 It always started with a favor.

 Because she had a difficult time saying no and was consistently willing to lend a hand to anyone in need.

 Which is why she was opening the glass doors to walk through the vestibule, speaking to the concierge in the lobby to give her name.

 Well, it was much too late to change her mind and Sakura sighed, releasing Akamaru from her arms after the elevator doors closed. Making a steady ascent to the top floor, she mulled over the reasons she was there in the first place.

 Sasuke had asked if she could return the dog to Kiba's family.

 He'd never met any of them, and correctly presumed she would know how to reach someone. It wasn’t much of a stretch. She and Kiba had been friends since freshman year in high-school.

 Sakura conceded to do his bidding, but followed up with some questions of her own — like, why was he watching over the dog to begin with?

 Despite being guarded, Sasuke answered all of her questions. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling things were being left unsaid.

 What quickly followed however, were thoughts of the canine’s owner. And soon she felt the dormant bud of concern blooming within her, once again.

   Kiba .

  Gently nudging away the worry she'd felt, Sakura went along with it. Especially after Sasuke revealed that it was against his lease to have a dog — up until now he'd been taking a risk.

 Feeling a little sorry that he’d been keeping him, she agreed to return the pup. Which is how she'd ended up here.

 The elevator came to a smooth stop at its designated floor, the thick doors sliding open. Akamaru pulled her down the hall, towards the other home he knew by scent and memory.

 Sakura only knew they were at the correct place because of the ' PH3 ' plaque beside the red door.

 Reaching out, she pulled down on the lever-like knob, entering once a voice beckoned her inside.

 "Hello?"

 She unhooked the leash from the studded collar just to watch the ball of fur run deeper into the suite, his tiny paws gaining traction against the mahogany planks of wood. Following seconds later, she rounded the corner to catch sight of a figure standing near an alcove.

 Sakura looked on as Akamaru whined near the person's feet, pawing at their immaculately pressed pants. He then proceeded to roll onto his back, completely exposing his belly.

 Sakura brought her eyes up to greet a woman whose tips of brown hair curled around her sharp jaw. Defined lips were painted a deep violet with a peremptory tone to match. Her voice was smooth and rich, whisking past her ears.

 "Sakura."

 Tsume Inuzuka stood as statuesque as royalty. Her commanding aura matched the intensity in her swirling, chocolate brown eyes. The attitude alone was worthy of any crown, but she was far too brutish for something as dainty as a tiara. Her brassknuckles nature had served her well in business...

 And, maybe in her personal life as well?

 The matriarch was already married to husband number three if she remembered correctly. Despite being rather intimidating, there was another side to her... a more gentle side. Something that was softer around the edges and reserved only for a select few.

 Sakura hoped she could tap into that side now. Maybe it would help, especially when a certain topic was brought up.

 "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

 Reaching down, the brunette picked up the squirming pooch to move him under her arm, briefly inspecting his form with a keen eye.

 "Hello, Mrs. Inuzuka...Er! I mean, ' Shimazu ' now... isn't it?" Sakura ran a hand across her neck, smiling to cover the wince she so desperately tried to hide.

 "Tsume is fine. Come here, let me get a good look at you. You've finally got some meat on those bones, I see."

 Almond-shaped nails dipped in black lifted the young girl's chin, fingers tilting her face and Sakura felt a blush warming her cheeks under the scrutiny.

 "Ah... yes, it has been a while. Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice."

 The dark-haired woman moved to sit on a loveseat, reaching for her glass of wine.

 "Lucky it's not the weekend, or I would have been in California by now," she asserted, swirling the Merlot around in the wine glass.

 Sakura politely declined the offer to join her with a glass of her own. She did accept a seat, however, sitting across from the older woman as she continued.

 "I thought he would've lasted a lot longer before dumping his responsibilities on someone else. Speaking of which..."

 Tsume raised her eyes to meet Sakura's, the tips of her nails clicking against the glass before she pressed on.

 "You mentioned that you haven't heard from that son of mine. He's decided to stop responding to me too, which has been very irritating."

 The layered ends of Sakura's high ponytail swung across the top of her shoulders as she shook her head. Her bangs rested partially in her face but their eyes remained locked as she confirmed what she’d said earlier over the phone.

 "No, I have not."

 The hand that was twirling the glass stopped, digits gripping the stem while the ambrosia settled within.

 Shadows from the lowering sun tilted across the walls signaling the oncoming sunset. Quiet and sobering — as something stirred in the air and the mood changed. 

 Sakura sat immobile and tried not to fidget under the weight.

 The tension was broken when Tsume released a hum, cutting off eye contact to look down. Reaching over, she grabbed a piece of prosciutto arranged on a platter from the coffee table.

 Sakura slowly released the breath she had no idea she was holding until then. 

 Hesitating, she felt the need to tread lightly but knew it was necessary to shed some light on the situation. Be that as it may, it didn't look like she was going to be discovering anything new with the way things were going.

 "That's actually why I wanted to speak with you. He hasn't responded to my messages either. At first, I wasn't worried, because of... well-."

 Kiba's history of disappearing was left unspoken, but Tsume grunted in understanding, taking a long sip from her glass.

 His mother was instantly reminded of his past rebellious acts. Although there usually would be some sort of... warning that preceded any dark turn.

 Her remarrying or becoming bi-coastal were just a few examples. She could remember the fights and fallouts that followed. Especially regarding his choice of outlets.

 The reckless behavior, the unsavory habits, the disagreements... she remembered them all.

 But...

 Tsume thought they'd long moved past that. He seemed to finally settle down... as much as someone like him could. He'd been taking care of his apartment, had stayed out of jail-

  As far as she knew ...

 -and out of most forms of trouble for quite some time now. It was hard to recall the last time she'd received a phone call that ended with screams, threats, or sour disappointment. She'd hate to think he'd regressed.

 "Is there anyone he's been hanging around? A new group of friends, maybe? Other than Ino and yourself—"

 Tsume was in the dark to whom he was associating with these days. "...he rarely tells me anything and I can barely keep up with him."

 Sakura was not the type to be dishonest but she found herself in an uncomfortable position. Choosing her words carefully and hoping her deception wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass, she gave what she thought would be just enough.

 "No one I've talked to has seen or heard from him either. I'm sorry."

 She was here to get as much information as she could, without giving too much away.

 All because...

 Sasuke had also asked that she keep his name out of everything. As far as Kiba's folks were concerned, he didn't exist. And he'd like to keep it that way.

 He had his reasonings; he’d murmured some explanation and Sakura relented because it made sense at the time. Maybe not giving names was the safest route.

 But now that she was here, it was uncomfortable as hell, and her stomach felt like bats were fluttering away in it. The calm expression she presented on the surface, however, was flawless.

 Moments ticked, ticked, ticked away... before Tsume finally waved her fingers dismissively. She'd heard everything she needed to hear. Crossing one leg over the other, the perfect cuff in her pants rested against her heel.

 "No matter. Someone is already looking into it. If that boy thinks he can get away with ignoring me, he has another thing coming. I'm just wondering what foreign jail cell or backwater whore house I'll need to rescue him from this time ," she sneered, gulping down the last of her wine.

 Sakura adjusted slightly, not saying a word but giving her a small nod. But her fingers curled into fists hidden within her pockets, the rings she wore digging into her skin.

 It's not like she wanted him to be caught behind bars. Or needing to be dragged to a health clinic the next day, for thorough testing.

 It's just...

 At least he would be found, and all this fuss would have been all over nothing. But until that happened...

 Sakura gave Tsume a small smile, hoping to ease away any concern this conversation may have brought.

 Hidden away on the inside, she wished someone was there for her right now — who could return the favor. Someone who would gift her the same comfort she'd just offered Tsume to maybe put her mind at ease. Because even after speaking with his mother and listening to her confident answer...

 Sakura could not shake the feeling that just wouldn't go away.

 Something was amiss.

 But she hoped that she was off track... and just being paranoid. And that his mother was right.

 This was just one of those... 'Kiba times'.

 It's exactly what a large part of her was wishing for... and what she needed to believe.

    ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

 He hated that damn bow.

 Sure... on its own, it was harmless.

 That was all an illusion, though. Being an inanimate object did not stop it from being a vexation.

 And just how could something so insignificant, be so... troublesome? After all, it was merely a decorative accessory, attached to a pair of heels. Looking so innocent, affixed to the leather band caging her slender ankle.

 But looks could be deceiving.

 It became problematic when his eyes traveled north. And for the life of him, Sasuke couldn't fathom how a few inches on a shoe could be so devastating. The manner in which they elongated her legs as his focus strayed upward. Following an invisible path along smooth, pale skin.

 Limbs that seemed to go on and on for days — filling out to thighs that were soon hidden from view beneath sparkle.

 The dress she wore did nothing but accentuate her curves; dips and valleys that filled out an enticing figure.

 Sakura's slender neck supported her head as it cocked to the side, smiling at whatever some teen girl in front of her said. And her green eyes crinkled in mirth as she let out a laugh, bringing the clear plastic cup to her lips for a drink.

 Speculating if she always smiled that brightly for everyone.

 Sasuke tore his gaze away, eyes landing on the DJ booth in the corner — the LED lights around the display throbbed to the beat of the track, playing across the speakers.

 Like hell he’d be caught staring.

 It wasn’t like they hadn’t just spent... what? The last two hours together? Getting everything ready for the party. He'd seen her then...

 Same outfit…

 Same smile…

  Same god damn heels.

 So what had changed? Could he not keep himself from finding her?

 His eyes constantly tracking her, flickering to trace her migration around the open space.

 Even when he caught himself it wasn't enough to stop the cycle from repeating. His eyes would be lowered, idly scanning the party, not focused on anything in particular.

 Then...

 A flash of sequins before his eyes would settle on that little black bow.

 Wasn't that the textbook definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results?

 Sasuke's mind didn't pass along that bit of information to the rest of his body. Instead, his eyes would start the trek all over again, his avaricious gaze taking her in before cutting away.

 Seeking out a distraction, he leaned against the expansive window behind him.

 The tempered glass usually flooded the suite with natural light during the day. Now, it hummed against his back, miniature vibrations warbling along the surface from the tracks deep base.  And it felt cool against him as he sighed.

 Taking another swing of beer, Sasuke hoped the warm sensation he felt didn't spread to his face. But at least he could make it appear the fault of alcohol and not the salacious thoughts starting to run rampant in his mind.

 Like...

 If the rest of her was as soft as the skin on her inner wrist was. The pad of his thumb had brushed against it when he had passed something to her earlier. And watching now, at the exposed skin her dress didn’t cover...

 Damn him if it certainly didn't look the part. He would only need a few seconds to graze his hands across the perceived silkiness to know the answer.

 Lowering the amber bottle, he swallowed thickly, sighing after. A quick look at his watch had him quickly releasing another one, wondering again why he was still there. Glancing over his shoulder at the snow-covered streets below, a minute passed — before a prickling behind his ear caught his attention.

 He was being watched.

 Everything around them started to fade away when his eyes suddenly met hers. Twinkling stars locked onto his own, piercing through the smoky haze around them, her focus solely on him. And suddenly, Sasuke's mouth was no longer satisfied with the bitter taste of alcohol.

 No...

 He was craving something else entirely.

 And as he moved closer—

   .

  His vision completely went white. 

  .

 And like coming up for air after treading murky waters, he broke through the surface and was brought back to the present… somewhat painfully .

 Surely, the sound of flesh meeting leather must have been heard during the impact. But his brain only registered the sound after as it echoed in his mind.

 Then there was the ringing.

 Lots and lots of ringing.

 .

  Ka-KLUMP-PAK!

  whoooo-sh...

  THUD.

 .

 ...

 "........... -ke? "

 He could have sworn that the saying went: you were supposed to see stars.

 Not feel them.

 ' Oh shit that hurt .'

 "...... -uke ? Sasuke ?! Are you alright?"

 ' Fucking stars. '

 "Sasuke...?"

 And fuck him and his own negligence for not seeing that coming.

 The ringing in his left ear dimmed low enough that he was finally able to hear the question. Blinking back the few spots that danced behind his eyelids, Sasuke grunted, pushing away the hands waving in front of his face. When there were no longer four eyes blinking down at him, he rose to sit up.

 The boxing gloves that had been strapped to Itachi's hands were now lying between them, his profile relaxing though remaining in its hunched form.

 "You were supposed to dodge the second hook. I pulled back but it was too late." He fussed over him again, but Sasuke batted away the concern, sitting up fully when the ringing in his ear finally disappeared.

 He felt a trail of moisture slide down his temple but breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that it was only sweat. He still counted his blessings though, thankful it wasn't his brother's leg that flew at him instead. If it was, his head would have been knocked clean from his shoulders.

 Sasuke removed the padded mitts he wore, tearing at the velcro with his perfect white teeth — more embarrassed than hurt. His brother had dangerously quick hands, and he should have known better than to allow his mind to wander when they were in the middle of sparring.

 "Where were you?" the elder asked, mirroring his unspoken thoughts while moving away to grab them water from the kitchen.

  'So he's going to call me out after all...'

 Sasuke huffed, choosing to stay seated on the mat below the hanging punching bag. He slowly worked his jaw open and closed a few times, rotating the Temporomandibular Joint.

 Good... nothing was broken.

 "Nowhere." Sasuke deadpanned, feeling along the curve for swelling.

 Itachi raised a brow at him as he passed him the chilled bottle. Knowing where further questioning would lead to, he pivoted to another topic.

 "I see your temporary house guest is no longer here..."

 Taking a much-needed sip, Sasuke began to explain what had transpired. Of how he had gotten Sakura to facilitate Akamaru’s return, along with agreeing to a few terms.

 Terms that were presented more as a... suggestion, of course. Maybe gather a little information while she was there if she could?

 He took full advantage of her gentle disposition, to coax her a little. Anything to help seal the deal.

 And when it was all said and done, they parted ways with an agreement in place.

 Sasuke didn't realize the amount of silence that stretched between them until he looked up, catching his brother’s stare. Keen orbs continued to study him, inky depths watching...

 Causing his own brows to snap together.

 "What?"

 "........"

 The corner of his brother's mouth twitched, deep lines appearing across his face before smoothing again.

 " What? "

 Sasuke didn't want to repeat himself, but the silence had struck a nerve. It brought back memories of when they were younger and how he felt whenever he was overlooked, ignored, or even excluded from certain things.

 Being an adult now, he could understand why things were handled the way they were and he harbored no resentment. However, that didn't stop the feelings from returning every now and again and bringing him back to the times when he used to be shooed away.

 Itachi never bothered to take the time to explain anything, because Sasuke was too young at the time. No one around had felt the need to, back then.

 And then there were the other occurrences, where he'd be left with nothing more than a whisper of— "Next time, Sasuke."

 As fleeting as it came, the memories all disappeared when Itachi finally caved.

 Learning lessons from the past, Itachi saw no reason to get Sasuke unnecessarily riled up.

 "Nothing."

 It would have been convincing, too... if they hadn't known each other so well.

 Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Sasuke leaned back on his elbows, his damp shirt stretching across his torso. He dragged his water bottle with him as a fresh breeze stirred across the loft from an open window.

 "Just spit it out already. You can either say it now and get it over with. Or later..." His nose twisted as if he was going to sneeze.

 "...no doubt in some cryptic way. Do us both a favor and spare me the hassle," Sasuke ended boldly, taking another swig and draining the bottle below the halfway mark.

 It took some time, but pointing out the obvious had its desired effect and Itachi finally asked what had been on his mind.

 What came was an inquiry about the woman — whose name, he'd noticed; was always spoken with a certain... tone . 

 Was there something going on that he should know about?

 And since Itachi had avoided using a condescending tone when asking the question, the prodding managed to disarm him.

 "Nothing..." Sasuke answered; slate-colored eyes drifting as his brother moved to sit near him. Breaking eye contact, a few of his fingers pressed into the padded mat underneath them.

 "... at least, not yet?"

 He always did find it difficult to keep things from his brother.

 Itachi could have easily sprained his wrist while sitting; his weight careening with a jolt at the quiet admission. He recovered well enough, sitting down fully and eyeing his younger brother with veiled surprise.

 And for a while, the only sound in the room came from the jingling chains holding up the punching bag, as it drifted in small circles near them.

 Sasuke finally gathered the courage to glance up, but his brother's eyes were peering outside, deep in thought.

 The sunlight kissed Itachi's low ponytail, gathered across one shoulder and his umber touched gaze looked far away.

 The question surprised him when his lips suddenly moved.

 "You like this girl, Sasuke?"

 He wasn't sure why, but he flinched.

 What was he supposed to say, Sasuke thought as his teeth pinched the inside of his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue could almost feel the impression left by Sakura's teeth from their last kiss. The ghost of the intimate touch came to mind at the most inopportune time.

 Did they really have to get into this when he still couldn't find the right words to describe what was happening between him and Sakura? It was all just one big ball of complication as far as Sasuke was concerned.

 An intricate web, twisting with many threads of complexity...

 With the label of 'friends ,' not quite fitting...

 And it was far too soon to be thinking about ‘love’ ...

 But 'just fucking' was too crude, and there was an interest there beyond the physical — as nice as that was.

 A string of fate that seemed to constantly pluck at his attention whenever she was near, while driving him to distraction when she wasn't.

 And it was comical and annoying at the same damn time. And, well...

  Ah fuck , he'd asked for this, didn't he? Him and his big mouth.

 "I-..." Sasuke hesitated, blinking in contemplation before trying again. "What I mean is-"

 Long fingers wrapped in protective white tape lifted. Two digits extended to brush against Sasuke's forehead, effectively cutting him off.

 "I just want you to be mindful." A sharp gaze fixated onto his own, and even though he took a breath to respond — his brother's gentle smile gave him pause.

 "I also want you to be happy," he continued, lips curving into a knowing grin. 

 Rising from the mat with a stretch, Itachi made his way down the hall towards the bathroom, leaving his younger sibling alone with his thoughts. He also ignored the small frown zeroing in on his retreating back.

 Sasuke slowly shook his head, following the figure of his brother until he disappeared around the corner.

 Whatever surprise that lingered was quickly overshadowed with something else as he gulped down another drink of water.

 An unexpected flare of delight engulfed him as he slowly returned his brother's grin...

 And there was only the empty room left to witness the handsome sight of Sasuke's dimple — a rare, but genuine smile pursing his lips at the unclouded approval he'd just received.

 ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 "Is that the last of it? What about that other set in the back?" one mover asked the other as they stood near the rear of the box truck.

 "The dresser with the mirror? Nah, that's going to a couple in Bethesda. That's our next stop. Here, take this when you go up and drop that off. She already tipped us... just get them to sign," the driver told him, closing the rolling door when he jumped down from the back of the vehicle.

 The clipboard was placed on top of the sealed, brown box the taller mover was already carrying in his arms.

 Making sure it was perfectly balanced in his hands, he turned to go up the freight elevator... making one last and final trip.

 The front doors to the newly leased space were still propped open, and he placed the box down, just inside the sizable foyer.

 "This is the last one," he called out, his russet eyes scanning the invoice, looking for the client’s name. "We just need an autograph from Ms.-... ah-."

 "I'll do it!"

 There was a conscious effort not to look down at the exposed legs of the young blonde as she came bounding towards him, hips swaying in a pair of forest green cotton shorts.

 He also did his best not to stare at the: 'I love cock' written in graffiti font on her shirt — and the word 'tails' stamped right below it in smaller print. 

 Though slightly crude, the tongue-in-cheek message had made him chuckle most of the afternoon while he was working.

 Ino smiled brightly, nibbling on the capped pen while her eyes took their time to locate the signature line.

 Tugging on the brim of his hat, the helper began to calculate his chance of success in scoring her number. And in turn go completely against company policy.

 His opportunity to risk it all was interrupted when the owner of the suite appeared from around a corner.

 Sakura shooed the golden femme away, signing the papers instead. She thrust the paperwork back in his hands after thanking him.

 Mouthing a quick 'sorry,' Sakura apologized for the actions of her all-too-flirtatious friend.

 The company had done an amazing job and had earned the positive review she'd leave.

 Ino twirled away to retrieve a stash — hidden earlier on the built-in shelf, snagging a lighter as well. Turning, she climbed over the back of the sofa.

 The hand holding the bright red plastic waved in their general direction.

 "We really can't thank you enough. Did you guys have to train to be so amazing?" Ino climbed down with a purr and a wink, still flirting as she settled on the floor.

 Sakura let out a nervous giggle, ushering the smitten guy out the front doors.

 "Is there anyone who is spared from your relentless-... philandering ?" She huffed, unlatching the mechanism holding both doors open, closing them tightly.

 Really, her friend could be so embarrassing sometimes.

 "What can I say? I love a man in uniform. Besides, I left them alone for most of the afternoon… you should be thanking me." Ino twisted the grinder in her hands, her spine resting against the front of the large sectional.

 Sakura slowly came over to stretch out behind her, laying down on her stomach. Sinking into the cushions, she felt the tension slowly release from her overworked muscles.

 Despite any possible... sexual harassment lawsuits, she was glad her bestie was there lending a helping hand. Moving was always a grueling task, so any help was appreciated. She'd even done some manual labor when she helped Sakura paint a room back at her old apartment.

 Leaving the place in immaculate condition scored her most of the security deposit back. Her comrade teased that it was unfair and that the only reason she did was that the place was barely lived in.

  "I'm just glad it's all done." Sakura mumbled from her sprawled position, her sweat pants resting dangerously low on her hips. They were already rolled down twice at the waist, and now a bit of blue cotton peeked from underneath.

 Ino paused, oceanic eyes spanning the layout. One eyebrow pinched inward after taking in the bare dwelling.

 "I wouldn't exactly call this... 'done,' Forehead. You have your bed and this monstrous couch. Other than that, you really need to get this place decorated."

  'Let the nit-picking begin.'

 "Yeah, yeah..." Sakura mumbled around a throw pillow, her face still buried in softness. "I'll order a bunch of stuff later."

 There were three different flavors of frozen yogurt chilling in the freezer. And her books and medical journals were unpacked and stored away. As far as she was concerned, everything else could wait.

 Ino wasn't convinced but instead concentrated on rolling the canappa before her, grunting at the stickiness.

 They still had to officially 'bless the house,' after all.

 Sakura turned towards her, raising a hand to cradle her head, cheeks still pink from burrowing into the pillow. It was only when she was spaced out that a particular thought drifted back to the forefront of her mind.

 And with all the bustle from today, there hadn't been a quiet moment up until now, to bring it up.

 "Did that guy ever call back again?"

 As it turned out, Tsume wasn't kidding when she said someone was looking into Kiba's disappearance.

 A private investigator reached out to her, asking a series of questions. Sakura told him exactly what she'd already shared, her story and timelines never changing. Not that there was much to tell.

 Afterward, she'd given her best friend a heads up, instincts warning that she'd be next.

 Much later he did get ahold of Ino, though, she had very little to say. Her answers were similar to Sakura's, as they'd both lost contact with Kiba around the same time.

 And she made it clear that she didn't know anything beyond that.

 Licking her lips, Ino brought a knee up to her chest, her sock covered foot dragging across the throw rug while she remained mindful of the low table in front of her.

 "After the first time? No."

 She then extended her tongue to wet the ends of paper as she expertly rolled the joint. Humming in affirmation, she eyed her handy work.

 "He was a pushy bastard though. When you talked to him, did you tell him anything? Maybe let something slip you shouldn't have?"

 Sakura sat up in surprise.

 "What? No..." She shook her head although the blonde was still facing forward, away from her.

 An eerie feeling ricocheted in her tummy.

 "D-... did you?"

 Ino snorted, flicking bits of grass from her nail bed. "I should have," she murmured.

 "Ino!"

 She was just being a bitch, but it's what she did when she felt annoyed... agitated .

 "To be honest, I'm not getting a good feeling about any of it. Not to mention... a P.I. coming around? Asking questions? This is getting to be a bit much."

 What's next?

 The police?

 It was not a good look to have a bunch of authorities hanging about, despite the reason for their presence.

 "I know..." Sakura began, the cushions shifting under her movements.  "I don't like any of this either... but even Sasuke-"

 The blonde spun around so fast she feared whiplash. Sparks of contention lit the glare Ino threw her way.

 "We don't know him, Sakura!"

 When she yelled, it surprised them both, their eyes wide and staring. It hadn’t been on purpose. Of course it hadn’t been, and Ino couldn't remember the last time she'd been so quick to snap.

 So, after taking a much-needed breath, the apology floated in the air between them.

 But not for what she said .

 No...

 She'd meant that.

 But… for the way she said it? Maybe she was a bit too harsh. She regretted it the moment it left her lips, so she made another attempt to apologize, keeping her voice even and much calmer.

 "We don't know him. Now, I'm not saying he's a bad guy or anything, but he's Kiba's friend..." Ino stressed, "not ours . I think he's cool and all, but we need to think with our heads here, and not with..."

 Her eyes lowered to Sakura's lap, hearing the sharp intake of breath when the seated girl immediately stiffened with indignation.

 "I'm not!" Sakura tried to defend herself. And if her leg wasn't twisted beneath her body she would have snapped her legs shut.

  'Guilty, much?'

 "Then we need to think smart. I don’t know about you, but I can't be seen mixed up with anything shady. Having some private eye sniffing around is a no-go for me."

 Ino turned back to the low table in front of her, her thumb rolling over the spark wheel twice, before the lighter flickered to life.

 Sakura sighed, shoulders dropping as she just let it go. She looked instead to the beautiful vase of flowers sitting close by.

 The arrangement of orange roses, honeysuckle — and a few other things she couldn't name were sorted together.

 It was a beautiful house warming gift from Ino, and she appreciated the floral scent as it drifted through the air. But she knew even its sweet smell wouldn't stand a chance against the thick haze that was sure to come.

 Sakura rolled to her feet, moving around her friend to approach the veranda door to crack it open. Nudging it slightly, she felt the crisp breeze charming its way past the small opening and into the room.

 Ino continued her musings on an exhale, swirls of grey, blueish smoke wafting towards the darkened recessed lighting above.

 "Sasuke was right about one thing, though..."

 She stood up, approaching her friend from behind and passing along the lit herb. "We should stay out of it. Besides, someone is looking for him... his family has it covered."

 Darting off to find an ashtray, she left the pink-haired woman to lean against the glass with her private thoughts, gazing at the skyline beyond the metal railings of her patio.

 Taking a long drag, Sakura hoped the calming effects would kick in soon and burn away her lingering restlessness.

 Everyone, it seemed, was just shying the Kiba issue away or even brushing it all aside. And it made her feel so damn torn inside.

 Reaching around, she patted herself down, feeling around for her phone.

 Oh, she knew what was going to happen... but she went for it anyway.

 There wasn't a choice, was there? Besides, she was nothing if not steadfast.

 And while fully aware of what was going to happen once she pressed 'SEND', Sakura didn't hesitate. 

 Her rather nimble fingers typed away, making another attempt to at least... try to do something.

 .

  Message:

   Just let me know you're ok...

  Please?

 .

 Sakura's hand reached up to remove the joint from her lips, holding her breath with a deep inhale as she re-read the note again.

 Sending out the text, she slowly blew out a trail of smoke.

 A familiar notification sound cackled in the air as the last cloud left her peach-stained lips. And her eyes caught sight of what showed up on the screen.

 The message was undeliverable.

 Just like the previous dozen she'd sent before that.

 Some of the messages she sent were laced with concern, others spewing threats of sterilization. She quickly discovered that anything sent out was shortly returned after bouncing through mobile data and Wifi signals.

 All of her messages went unanswered.

 But whatever disappointment or irritation she felt was quickly tempered down as conflict echoed in her mind.

   "'...-e.'"

  Because wasn't this the same thing she'd done in the past? Completely ghosting everyone close to her?

 Absconding without a care in the world, regardless of who it might hurt, or what it could affect?

 Sakura had exhibited the same pattern of behavior herself a while ago. And at her worst, she had gone days without responding, keeping her distance.

   "'...-ite.'"

  The memories surfaced like the smoke drifting past her face as she took another hit, contemplating just how much it sucked... being on the other side now.

   "'...-rite.'"

  Ino returned, handing Sakura the found ashtray while quickly plucking the weed from her aloof grip. Humming a tune, she went over to go see about playing some music.

 But Sakura stayed put, unable to shake the word that haunted her mind.

 One that felt weighted like the heavy crystal she held in her grasp. Looking down, she caught the way a few rainbows appeared with every deviation of the ashtray, and every time a flash of color reflected she imagined a voice whispering in cool, mocking tones inside of her head.

"'...-crite.'"

Taunting all the emotions echoing through her, even as she accepted the bitter truth in the word, repeating over and over again...

    "'Hypocrite.'"

  ✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

 " The sky is clear and you can see for miles across the grasslands. But as easy as she could look beyond the Serengeti, she could just as easily be spotted.

  Shoulders hunched low, the lioness hugs her body close to the ground. Blending in among the straw-colored grass... she inches her way closer. She must eliminate as much distance between her and the intended prey before launching her attack. Her sisters are in tune with her, circling the herd on either side, bellies low to the ground as they stalk closer.

  The pack has not eaten for days, and this may be their last chance before the grazing animals migrate north and out of their territory. There are plenty of mouths to feed back at the den and a few hungry cubs who will not survive the rest of the season without a steady supply of food."

 The prone figure nibbled on the last of his fish cake sandwich, his heavy boots hanging off the edge of the loveseat. His large frame laid sideways on the furniture, leaning against the armrest as he watched the clip on his screen.

 He always was a fan of a good old-fashioned hunt. There were just some things in life, that only Mother Nature could do with such... finesse .

 You could learn a lot if you sat back and watched her work.

  "The wildebeests were on alert, taking turns to raise their heads to keep on the lookout."

 He listened to the thick, South African accent as it narrated the encounter playing on the phone. The screen zoomed in as long blades of grass hung from the wildebeests’ chewing mouths while they kept an eye on the young calves. Soon, the camera panned out to show how close the hunters had gotten.

  "It is far too late to be overly cautious now. The lioness and her sisters were in striking range and had only to pick their target.

  Digging their long claws into the heated dirt below, they sprint across the plain. 

  The chase was on..."

 His phone suddenly chirped, and a notification for a new message appeared at the top.

 The man’s narrowing squint flickered up but quickly went back to the action.

 The screen flashed to the pounding of hooves kicking up clouds of dry dirt. And he focused, excited to watch what happened next.

  "The ground vibrates as the herd stampede away, now catching sight of the fawn and black death machines barreling towards them. The chaos is enough for one to lose its footing, one back leg twisting beneath its lumbering body."

 The front hooves clambered against the ground while the frightened animal tried to gain leverage, but it was too late.

  "The seasoned lioness is there in a blink, ready to capitalize on the last mistake the prey would ever make in its life."

 Slow-motion captured the way the lioness’s claws hooked into the large antelope, trying to gain purchase as her jaws opened wide across the prey’s neck.

 The beast finally got to all four hooves just in time to feel the weight of another lioness as she bit at its spine, her body hanging from its rear.

 Losing strength and blood, the scared animal let out a long moan as the lions worked together to bring it down. A third lioness bit at its heels and soon the pressure was enough. A billow of dirt rose in the air as all of their combined weight crashed to the dusty, hot earth below.

 The narrator's voice decreased in volume once again, as another message notification came through — the rhythmic beeping much louder than the nature video, still playing on the screen in full-screen mode.

 Sighing, the man sat up straighter, swinging his legs to the floor to check.

   Message:

  Any updates?

  Message:

  Or has this been a waste of time?

   'Damn.'

 And the documentary special was starting to get to the good parts too. Locking the screen, he stood tall in a stretch, straightening the henley shirt he wore and trudged to the adjoining room.

 The small apartment was oftentimes used as a temporary working space. Although rarely used for the more... messy parts of their job, it was quite convenient for quick meetups. And with the newest development, it made for a well suited temporary office.

 Located just behind a deli, but with a hidden entrance and secured parking, it had only made the best sense to set up shop here, for now.

 The next room was much darker with the blinds drawn the way they were, but multiple computer monitors glared with artificial light as the man came to stand behind the seated teen. A pretty penny had gone into the elaborate setup — more than a few parts couldn’t be bought in just any store.

 There were a few programs open that he was familiar with while scanning the screens, but most he was not.

 And as intelligent as the man thought himself to be, he would never presume to understand what any of the letter and number combinations meant, trailing across the monitor on the left.

 "Looks like you are up and running. What's the status?"

 "I think I've found a way in," Chef replied, his eyes never leaving the screens as he typed away. His favorite song had just begun to play in his ear, and he was seconds away from turning it up before the guy showed up behind him.

 " Think ?" The man's arms folded and his lips melted into a frown.

 "Yeah. What? I can't go back and get in the same way I did before, my dude. They've already patched that shit. I also don't want to set off any alarms. Gotta be sneaky," Chef offered in a huff.

 Besides, he'd already tried the old route and got locked out. But when inside before, he had discovered some other cracks — and hoped to take advantage of one of them now.

 "But you can do it?"

 "Yeah. I can do it."

 The teen went back to work when he felt the figure move away, turning up the volume to catch the tail end of his song. This was exactly why he never took up private offers before. But... the money should be worth having to deal with someone breathing down his neck, in the end.

 The man turned away, sheathing the hidden knife back into its pouch in silence, leaving the room just as quietly as he entered. Hopefully, the teens’ confidence would produce some good results... and soon.

 A real shame too, that he didn't know...

  His very life depended on it.

   ✧･ﾟ* : *ﾟ･✧

  He was counting stacks of collected funds in his living room when one of his phones went off.

 With their associate still missing, Itachi gave Sasuke the task of fulfilling a few orders and handling some assignments. He'd been on the run for the last few days, completing  transactions that were left to be done in Kiba's absence. Just because he was missing didn't mean the business stopped and even grunt work needed to be seen to.

 He'd used the opportunity to do a little digging on said person's disappearance, but not finding satisfactory answers left him feeling a little perturbed.

 He had been in a sour mood as of late and could think of nothing that might turn things around.

 So seeing her initials flash across his chirping phone's screen was bittersweet — he couldn’t tell whether Sakura calling him at this very moment was a good thing or not.

 There hadn't been a chance for him to reach out to her. Though, no matter how busy he was, he knew he should have found the time.

 And maybe a part of him was feeling guilty for only texting a few things in the last few days...

 But she had his number too, damnit. He had made sure of it when he physically saved it on her phone the last time they were together.

 It was a personal number that not too many people had access to, at that.

 She could have easily called sooner too, but that was neither here nor there.

 Maybe her voice would be the ray of sunshine needed in the otherwise shithole-pit-of-darkness his mood had been sinking into.

 "Hello?"

 Sasuke's voice was unhurried and a little scratchy — coming out husky after not being used for the last two hours since he'd gotten home and showered. He thought he might be coming down with something and made a mental note to drink some hot tea later.

 In the future, Sakura will share with him just how much his voice alone could make her feel sometimes — even when heard over the phone. No way she could tell him that right now, though. There was too much power in that bit of information and she resisted the urge to clear her own throat, hoping the whimsical flutters would go away soon.

 " Sasuke... "

 Maybe one day — around the same time, Sasuke would finally admit how fond he was of hearing her say his name, regardless of its nature or the mood.

 Nonetheless, an eyebrow hitched as he wrapped a thick wad of bills with a beige rubber band.

 "What? Did you misdial or something...?"

 If the answer was yes he wasn't sure he could handle it — not with how this week was going.

 But she said no, and he could just see the smile on her face when she released a small laugh.  He imagined the soft, cupids bow he could still remember the feel of... if he tried.

 Maybe it was a good thing she called, after all. Even after a bit of chatter, he could already feel some of the day's tension releasing from his moody form.

 " Actually, the reason I'm calling was... "

   Why haven't you called?

  Why haven't you taken me out on a proper date yet?

 Already he could hear that — and the other half-dozen questions, all in his mind before she finished.

 He could almost feel his answers forming, and hoped they wouldn't sound like excuses when he said them out loud. Because... damnit, he'd been meaning to see a bit more of her. But with everything going on-

 " -I... well, actually, Kankurō wanted to know if you were coming to his birthday party? He said you already received his invitation. And his order, which — by the way, I won't even ask what's on that list ."

 She trailed off but picked back up with a giggle. 

 " Anyway, he wanted to make sure you didn't forget, and were going to be there. "

   Wait.

    What?

  Having the question ring inside of his mind was not enough, and his mouth opened to express the dumbfounded stutter his brain felt.

 "What?"

 She'd called him only... for that ?

 It's all anyone was talking about, she said; oblivious with his disappointment. Sasuke listened as his hands slowed down to a full stop, trying to keep the frown at bay.

 After the last few — irritating days he's had...

 That's the reason they were finally speaking?

  Kankurō ?

 Maybe talking when he was in low spirits wasn't the best idea after all. Something in his clipped tone must have given him away because after a bit of silence she hesitantly asked.

 " Is everything ok? You sound a bit... distracted? "

 "Yes."

  'No.'

 Bloody hell, that's not what he'd meant. No... it is what he meant, but he didn't mean to say it like that-

 "Just finishing up something."

 " Oh ..."

  'Fuck.'

 Things were quickly spinning out of control and he needed to figure out a way to salvage it.

 Or just end it... before he said something completely Sasuke like, and ruined it for everybody. 

  "Oh... well, it sounds like this is a bad time. I'm sorry-"

 "Don't be-"

  ' Gentle ... you idiot, nicer!? ' 

 "-I mean, it's fine." Sasuke continued after the slight pause.

 Ok, so that wasn't much better and he winced when a rubber band popped, stinging his hand before reaching for another one.

 Sakura waited a beat but wasn't convinced. " Ok... well, I guess I'll see you there? Sorry to disturb you."

 Sasuke fumbled with the phone for a second yet wasn't quick enough to stop her from ending the call, and he sat there after feeling like he just dropped the ball in a major way.

 He groaned, dropping everything in his hands and grabbing at his locks while sinking further into the sofa. It was no use trying to text her back because even he knew when to cut his losses.

 At least no one was there to witness the embarrassment... but he could hear the guffaw his cousin Shisui would have released if he could see him now.

  'Real smooth, Uchiha... real smooth.'

  End Chapter

✧ ･ﾟ * : * ﾟ･ ✧

#sasusaku #sakusasu #ssfanfiction #sasusaku fanfics #ss fic

[soonsoop]

blog #4 - how to compost!

May 9th, 2021

Hi everyone, I’m back with another blog post! Today’s blog post topic is going to be about composting!

What’s composting? 

Composting (in simple terms) is the process of converting natural material into compost a.k.a. fertilizer for plants! 

Composting has many benefits:

Eliminates food waste going into the landfill (+ makes your trash smell less smelly)

Natural and easy way to make homemade fertilizer

Good for your plants!

Let me share my experience with composting:

A few months back, I was really intrigued to start composting. I had been hesitant several many times to actually start due to my situation and also fear of “messing up”. I currently live in a suburban house with family members including my grandparents. My family (not including my grandparents) was against the idea when I first told them about it. That was discouragement #1. 

I referenced off the experience I had back in my highschool days. In my junior year of high school, a group of classmates and I were in-charge of the compost bin at our school. We visited the bin every week or so to turn the bin and add materials or water if need be. The bin was fairly large and belonged to the teacher. With the subtle knowledge I had back then, I looked into buying compost bins thinking it was the only way to compost “properly”. 

Then, one day after watching a couple YouTube videos and researching different ways to compost, I found out that there were many solutions than I’d imagined. I watched some people composted in their apartment by freezing their food into the freezer and dropping it off at a local composting station or farmer’s market in town. Some people used a coffee bin or container to make their mini compost bin inside their homes, and some who just used the plain ground to pile their compost outside in the countryside.

I combined all the knowledge I gained to apply it to my experience. I asked my family again if I could try composting. Of course they were pretty skeptical of it, but I proceeded on and tried to persuade them through my actions. To start with, I used a plain ol’ freezer bag to collect all my food scraps. With every collection, I zipped the bag up and stuck it into the freezer. 

The next I had to do was find somewhere to actually compost the food scraps. I went to ask my grandma if I could dig some holes in the backyard near the side of our house and she agreed! We dug some small holes up and that’s how my journey of composting really began to take it’s place. Although my grandma didn’t fully understand the in’s and out’s of composting, her agreeing to it was a significant encouragement to me! :’)

I started the composting process by adding my food scraps into the hole, piling some dead leaves ontop, covering dirt ontop of it all, and then finally adding water to it. At first, I checked and turned my compost about 3 times per week. It was a surely slow process but I did see a bit of the results after a month or two! One time I found a tiny piece of ready-made compost with white specs like fertilizer! It got me really excited! Since then, I’ve been composting and try to check it once per week. I learned that it’s better to start now instead of hesitating or fearing the mistakes. It’s not as bad as you think it is!

Now with that being said, I’ll tell you HOW exactly to compost!

How to Compost!

There are many ways to compost depending on your situation and location. I’ll break it down into simpler terms to make it easier for you:

1. Find a compartment to keep your food scraps 

Image from: LiveForLess

There are TWO common compartments to keep your food scraps before dumping it into your compost area. One is a compost bucket and another is a freezer bag/bin. There are compost bins/buskets made to store food scraps for a short period of time and then taken out to be thrown into the compost. Personally, for me it is a bit costly to do that plus the idea of keeping food scraps out even in a bin sounds unappealing since I share a home too. My option, is to use a freezer bag and freeze my compost. I currently use the medium-sized Ziploc freezer bags that my family has lying around in our house to put my scraps and freeze them. I’m planning to invest in a Stasher bag or a similar reusable compartment to put my scraps in for the future but for now, I’m using what I have. I encourage you all to use what you have! It not only saves money but makes the most out of your current resources.

2. Find a place to compost 

This is where things get more complex here. First, keep in mind where you’re located. Do you have access to a drop-off bin? A backyard? How about a community garden? Or are you willing to and financially able to make your compost bin in your home? There are so many places to compost depending on your situation. I don’t think there is one way to do it. I found this infographic on composting you can follow! Looking at the graphic, in my case my compost area would go in the trench/pit section!

Image from: gardensthatmatter

3. Find a time to commit

Lastly, the final step is a time to commit. Depending on your situation, you might need to adjust a bit of time out of your schedule to commit to composting. If you’re deciding on dropping-off your food scraps at a local farmers’ market or community garden, then you would probably have to contact them and set a time, etc. If you’re composting at home, you would need to allot a time to be able to turn the compost every (blank) amount of times each few days, week or even months! It all depends on your commitment and compost bin/area type. Rule of thumb: The more frequently you check/turn your compost the faster the process will go (Of course you still have to be patient and let Mother Nature do its thing.). For generally bigger piles, checking on the piles once a month may be ideal. For me, I try to check my compost once every week usually on the weekends since I’m busy with school during the weekdays.

Ok, so now that we’ve got our areas set, what exactly can we compost and HOW?

That’s right, I’m here with another graphic! :D There’s honestly different lists, graphics, videos and etc. on what to and what NOT to compost which can be quite overwhelming. When I researched all of this information I was honestly overwhelmed and a bit daunted. The list I’ve compiled below isn’t exactly accurate for all compost piles, however it is most inclusive to what is generally accepted in most compost bins/piles. The general rule is you can compost generally all fresh vegetable and fruit scraps. Most natural untreated materials as well. 

Some compost piles can have animal products, but it’s known to attract creatures and have a terrible smell so that is why I don’t include it in my compost pile. I would recommend you do your research if you’re interested into doing that however! Also, obvious things like toxic waste, chemicals and any items containing non-biodegradable plastic aren’t allowed. Yes, even glass and metal can’t be included in compost! You would think it could break down, but..... no it won’t. It will take way too long..... Also, pet waste like dog poop and cat poop is a no no. They may contain parasites that can get into the plants you grow and might eat. Yuck. Also, diseased plants or rotten food are not allowed.

Now that you know what to put in your compost, how exactly do you build it? Well, depending on your compost pile/area or situation, it will vary. There are also TWO main categories of layers that make up your compost: The browns and the greens. 

Browns are dead leaves, twigs, branches, and cardboard/paper.

Greens are your food scraps, coffee grounds, grass clippings, etc.

However, usually speaking for actual compost piles you’d first:

Pile your browns

Pile your greens ontop of the browns

Pile browns ontop of those greens

Cover the pile with soil (If a compost trench/pit or in a bin)

Add water

Check and turn your compost pile every allotted time out of your schedule and add water when needed!

Some composting advice!

Make sure to take off labels from your fruit/vegetables! Did you know most of labels on produce are made of plastic? so it’s not compostable. :(

Add enough water. I’ve had times when I didn’t add enough water to my compost so, ants started making their way into the pile. Though, fear not! If you add enough water you’ll be able to scare them away! Ants aren’t a bad thing to your compost, but too much of them and they will try to make a home in your pile-- which we don’t want. Also, don’t overwater your pile either! You’ll be able to know if you pile has enough water when turning it and observing the dampness of the soil.

Creepy crawlies are a good sign! If you start to see insects/bugs like rollie pollies and worms, that’s an awesome sign! They’ll be extremely helpful in breaking down your compost faster by letting them chew their way through the material! 

Keep your compost pile covered. If you don’t cover your pile with dirt/lid chances are it will smell bad and attract pests that you don’t want such as, rodents. I haven’t dealt with that problem before but it is possible.

Try to keep a balance of your materials. (For those who are composting at home) This one may be difficult to accomplish depending on the foods you eat and what you’re able to do. Too much of anything is bad. It’s good to have variety in your compost and not have too many acidic food scraps like citruses for example. Remember: what you put into your compost is what you’re getting as the result.

I hope this simple guide to composting helped you! Happy composting! :)

#soonsoop #soonsoopmusic #blog #environment #enviromental #environmental blog

[chilling-seavey]

What if Florence and Daniel got into a fight bc both of them are stressed out worrying about money and taking care of the kids?? How would my OTP resolve their fight??? 🤔

This was lowkey emotionally draining to write...wowey. 3.3k words later, here’s some proof that Florence and Daniel’s relationship isn’t as perfect and flawless as it seems... x

Monday, November 4th, 2024

Daniel let out a heavy breath as he got into his car after another shift, having spent most of it with his supervisor never being satisfied but that wasn’t new. He turned on the car and connected his phone to Bluetooth to call Florence as he always did before leaving. Strangely, he was sent to voicemail but a text came through instead.

Can you pick up diapers on your way home?

He sighed and replied with a quick ‘ok’ before pocketing his phone and putting the car in reverse. Closer to home, he parked outside the drugstore and headed inside, rushing down the aisles to find the diapers and grabbed the biggest package before bringing it to the cash.

“$37.45.” the cashier said after ringing up the item.

Daniel waved his card and was directed to the machine. He typed in his pin and waited a moment only to be met with card declined: insufficient funds. The glance from the cashier made Daniel feel even worse and he cleared his throat nervously, brushing a hand through his hair before shuffling through his wallet to only be met with a $10 bill and a few loose coins.

“Sorry… I, uh, left my other card at home.” Daniel said softly before leaving the store empty handed.

He sat behind the wheel of his car and tried to steady his breathing after being unable to afford diapers for his baby daughter. After a few moments of trying to calm down and trying not to cry, Daniel turned on the car and headed towards home.

The apartment smelt like burnt supper when he walked in and the noise was insane, the baby’s piecing screams topping it all. No one even heard him come in. Daniel set his guitar case and backpack on the floor in the doorway to the living room, taking in the messy kitchen and loud TV with Clementine sat admits a pile of toys trying to watch it, Penelope on the couch with her face in a pillow and her hands over her ears as she cried, and screaming Lucy in Florence’s arms as the dishevelled looking mother tried to put the dishes in the sink.

“Hey.” Daniel finally spoke, earning the glances of Florence and Clementine.

Clementine jumped up and ran for him as if he was her saviour from the chaos and he picked her up with a tired grunt.

“What’s going on here?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mommy burnt the house down!” Clementine said with a giggle as Daniel carried her towards the kitchen, his eyes lingering on Penelope on the couch for a moment.

“I just burnt the lasagna a bit.” Florence sighed, wiping her damp hand on her shirt that was already covered in tomato sauce and baby drool. Her hair was pulled back but still almost completely falling out of its tie and her makeup-less face looked like she hadn’t slept in days. “Did you pick up the diapers?”

Daniel cleared his throat nervously, setting Clementine back on the ground to let her run back off to the TV, “No, my-”

“Goddammit, Daniel, I ask you to do one thing.” Florence snapped as quietly as she could, tossing the pan in the sink a bit too hard, making Lucy scream louder in her arms.

“I tried, I just-”

“It’s not that hard to remember. Your daughter needs diapers. We have, like, four left but that’s fine; when we run out I’ll just tie one of your shirts around her like a freaking monkey at the zoo.”

“Florence, what is going on?” Daniel asked at her obvious stressed out state.

“I had to pick up Penelope only an hour after dropping her off this morning because the teacher called and said she had a meltdown and wouldn’t relax and everything is setting her off today. The damn oven beeped and she lost her mind. Of course Lucy’s crying only makes it worse and she won’t shut up because she’s teething.” Florence pushed her finger in the five-month-old’s mouth to get a look at her swollen gums and the baby just cried louder. “She also pooped all over everything today which is why we needed new diapers earlier than planned because her personal nuclear bomb ruined half the things on the change table.”

Daniel watched with wide eyes as she rushed over to grab the last two plates from the dining room table and tossed them in the sink too before turning on the tap and letting the water run over everything.

“And Clementine is demanding that she gets this new set for her doll that everyone has at school. She won’t even hear of it for Christmas because she needs it now.” Florence continued. “And she keeps testing me! Judging everything I do like she’s the adult. ‘Mommy, the lasagna’s burnt’. Like I didn’t know!”

“Okay.” Daniel sighed softly, reaching over the counter to take the crying baby from her and made his way to the freezer to take the cold teething ring out and held it out to Lucy. “I’ll take the girls and get them ready for bed and then we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk. I wanted you to get the diapers like I fucking asked.” Florence grumbled.

“Flora.” Daniel snapped sharply to shut her up.

His glare certainly helped, and she clenched her jaw before looking back to the dishes without another word. Daniel bounced the baby lightly as she kept screaming through the teething ring he desperately tried to put in her mouth as he headed back to the living room.

“Clem, angel, can you tidy up your toys and go get your pyjamas on please?” Daniel asked softly as he turned off the TV.

The almost six-year-old nodded and got up from the rug, starting to gather her things, “There’s a new set you can buy for my dolls, Daddy. It’s a whole car they can ride in and the radio even plays music! It’s really nice and all the girls in my class has it. I wanna get it so we can play together at school.”

“We’ll think about it.” Daniel said, trying to hold back his nausea from the harsh inset of reality. He wanted nothing more than to buy that stupid toy car for his daughter but it was no where near realistic. He set Lucy in her playpen with the teething ring before moving to tend to his middle daughter who was still face down on the couch with her hands over her ears. When he set his hand on her back she startled. “Just me, bug.”

Penelope rolled over, giving him a good look of her swollen red eyes and matted dark hair and tear streaked cheeks, and she held her arms up to him through a hiccup.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Daniel pouted as he bent down and scooped her up, the four-year-old cuddling right into him through her sniffles as he took her to her room to get her cleaned up for bed. He sung softly as he wiped her face clean with a damp cloth and got her into her pyjamas, something that always helped calm her down, and he took his time to help both her and Clementine brush their teeth and comb their hair before tucking them into bed.

Daniel grabbed Lucy for story time, all three girls cuddled up with him as he read them a bedtime story. Lucy fell asleep quickly, probably tired out from all her crying – same with Penelope – and he kissed the oldest two good-night before taking the baby down the hall to bed too. He let his eyes linger on the remaining three diapers in the basket before letting out a small sigh and took one out so he could change her into her pyjamas. Lucy was tucked into her crib with the teething ring beside her just in case and he pushed a pacifier past her lips, watching her for a second as she sleepily sucked on it for a moment, the plastic bumping lightly against her tiny nose.

The apartment was eerily quiet as Daniel closed the nursey door, baby monitor in hand, and made his way back down the hallway for a conversation he really did not want to have.

Florence had the kitchen cleaned up by the time he was back, and they shared expressionless glances as she closed the last cupboard.

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” Daniel said, placing the baby monitor on the counter between them, “but you don’t need to take it out on me.”

“Maybe if you did what I asked, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“I tried.” Daniel protested. “It was a hard day and to top it off my card-”

Florence held up her hand to cut him off, “You go to work to play music for eight hours and then come home to a good meal that you don’t have to cook. You have it easy.”

“Easy?” Daniel gaped. “Are you kidding me? You know how much shit I do in my job and how many late nights and early mornings and weekends I put into this. It’s no where near easy.”

“Oh yeah.” Florence chuckled humourlessly. “When you don’t have to lift a finger around here, leaving me to practically raise your children.”

“You think I like never seeing my wife or kids?!” Daniel frowned. “It was bad when Lucy was first born, yeah, but we even had a whole discussion and I got much more time freed up. But I can’t just sit at home all day with you guys, this isn’t a fairy-tale.”

“I know but you act like I’m a psychotic bitch when I let it all get to me! I got shit on today! And walked over and hit and kicked and bitten and screamed at and I burnt my arm trying to get the charred dinner out of the oven. You just don’t understand what it’s like to stay home!”

“You have no idea what it’s like to work! To go out and earn a salary! You could have gone to school and gotten a degree and then figured out what you wanted to do with your life but instead you chose to cruise off everyone else. You didn’t even pay for your first apartment! Callum did! You have no freaking idea the value of money!”

“I was raising my daughter.” Florence seethed. “Fuck you for even saying that.”

“You could have made it work.”

“Sorry I chose to focus on her rather than shoving her in daycare to be pretty much raised by a stranger for the first four years of her life. I didn’t have the money for any of that. I barely had money to put food on the fucking table half the time and you know that.”

“So get over yourself! Stop being so goddamn selfish if you’re so finically-aware!”

“Fuck you!” Florence shouted, walking around the counter as if she were going to leave the room but she stopped in the middle of the living room and turned back to him. “I get that you have to work and I am thankful that you even have a job, but a little compassion isn’t a lot to ask of you.”

“Compassion? Are you serious?” Daniel scoffed loudly, taking a few quick strides across the room to stand in front of her, shouting back his rebuttal, “I nearly wait on you hand and foot and I drop everything whenever you need me and for years I always have! I have done nothing but work my ass off for you and our kids and you still have the audacity to say that it’s still not enough? I work too much and now I don’t work enough and then I don’t ‘understand what you’re going through’. Well, dammit, Florence, what the fuck do you want from me?”

“I want you to care about other things than your work!”

“I already cut my hours! We’re nearly fucking broke, Florence, I don’t know why you can’t understand that! We literally cannot afford for me to lose one more hour a week! Last months rent virtually drained us and we are surviving on a $10 bill and my fucking shoelace right now! I’m pushed to the fucking brim half the time trying to get all the shit done so I don’t have to work overtime so I can still come home to you and the girls and all I’m met with is attitude and snark and an ungrateful wife who scolds me like my goddamn mother when I walk in the door!”

Florence didn’t reply for a beat and the silence lingered heavy over the apartment. Her eyebrows furrowed first before her face scrunched up in anger and she jabbed a finger in Daniel’s face before yelling, “Fuck you! I am not staying home just to make you a supper and serve you a beer in a pretty pink dress and heels with a face full of makeup and a fake smile when you get in from work. This isn’t the 19-fucking-50s! I am allowed to have emotions, Daniel James, and right now you are tugging at every single last one of them! How dare you say these things to me!”

“You are freaking out for no reason!” Daniel shouted louder to top her. “You’re twisting everything I’m saying! Do you even hear yourself?”

“All I can hear is you being a selfish and ungrateful son of a bitch!” Florence screamed, throwing a couch cushion at him.

“Throwing things at me? Real mature, Florence. Real fucking mature! God, why don’t you understand?!” Daniel shut his eyes and threw his hands into his hair and tugged hard to try and rid his frustrations. “You’re so naïve sometimes, you drive me fucking crazy!”

They were already even listening to each other anymore, simply off on their own tangents trying to out-volume the other. Daniel and Florence didn’t fight often, priding themselves on their open communication, but everything eventually hits a bump and when they did, they really did.

“Just go play your pretty music, Daniel! Make some pretty music with your friends and put it online for everyone rave over and shut up. I’ll be here taking care of and being hit like a punching bag by your children.”

“You know what, I would appreciate it if you stopped fucking accusing me of being a shitty father because I have a job! I have been trying my best and if that’s not enough for you then I don’t know what to tell you!” Daniel put his hands up.

“What? You’re gonna leave?” Florence laughed humourlessly, throwing her finger in the direction of the door. “Fine! Go on! Wouldn’t be the first time! Leave when it gets hard Daniel!” She cut her screams, leaning in closer to him to whisper sharply, “Just like Matt did.”

Their fight seemed to echo through the apartment as silence fell again, her angry expression still glaring at him as his face melted into neutrality.

“Don’t say that.” Daniel said softly, trying to each for her.

“Don’t touch me.” Florence stepped back before walking quickly down the hallway.

“Flora, I’m not gonna-” Daniel started after her but the slamming of the bedroom door startled him to stop in place. He took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face to try and calm down, leaning back against the wall of the hallway. It was surprising that the baby wasn’t crying given the fact they just had a ten-minute-long screaming match.

Daniel composed himself enough to open the girls’ bedroom door and peak in, finding them both huddled up together in Clementine’s bed, frightened looks on their faces.

“Hey, my loves.” Daniel sighed, sitting himself on the side of the bed. “I’m sorry if we scared you. Mommy and I haven’t been talking as much as we should have been, and we got a little crazy. Do you forgive us?”

Clementine and Penelope nodded. Daniel kissed each of their heads and got them tucked in again in their own beds.

“No more yelling tonight?” Penelope asked.

“No more yelling.” Daniel promised, smiling sadly between his two eldest. He couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on Clementine a moment longer, remembering the night Matt walked out, leaving nineteen-year-old Florence and baby Clementine alone and a mess in their small apartment. She stared up at him with those same blue eyes he always remembered, and he gave her an extra kiss on the cheek, staying with them until they were drifting back to sleep, “Daddy’s not going anywhere.”

Daniel found himself back outside the master bedroom door with his hand on the knob and his forehead against the cool wood, taking slow breaths to keep himself calm to try the conversation again. He finally opened the door and slipped inside before closing it silently behind him. The light was on in the ensuite and he stopped in the doorway.

Florence glanced up at him from where she stood in front of the vanity brushing her hair. She silently turned back and continued what she was doing.

“Come here.” Daniel whispered, stepping closer and gently pulled her arms down from her hair to wrap around his shoulders and he tucked his own tightly around her waist, peppering a few kisses over her cheek and across her shoulder. “I love you. So fucking much. Even when you scream at me and swear at me and throw things at me.”

Florence sniffled a little, holding him tighter. “I love you too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” Daniel rubbed a hand over her back. “No matter what.”

“I’m sorry.” Florence mumbled, wrapping her fingers around the material of his shirt and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m sorry too.” Daniel sighed. “My card got declined today. It scared me.”

“What?” Florence leaned back with concern, holding her hands on his biceps to keep him close as she stared at his flushed face.

“$37 for diapers and my card was declined. I felt like a fucking idiot, like an absolute joke of a father…can’t even buy the necessities for my kid.” Daniel sighed, turning to lean back against the counter and hung his head. “I don’t know what we’re gonna do, Flora. I’m scared.”

“I know.” Florence mumbled, petting her hand through his hair. “Maybe we should talk to someone? Get a budget figured out until we get back on our feet. Worst case scenario, we ask your parents for a bit of a loan. We’re not going to lose anything from this.”

Daniel nodded, biting his lip as he stared at the floor, fingers holding tightly onto the edge of the counter behind him.

“I’m sorry.” his voice broke and he struggled to hold back a small sob, quickly hiding his face in his hands.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay,” Florence frowned, wrapping her arms around him to let him cry against her shoulder, “I know how hard you work. You’re such a good dad and an amazing husband. I know you’re trying your best and I also know it’s slowly starting to destroy you.”

Daniel whimpered as he nodded, clinging onto her tighter through his tears as he muffled a sob into her neck.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” Florence sighed, running her hand up and down his back. “I took my own shit out on you. I needed any excuse to yell, I guess.”

“Better me than at the girls.” Daniel chuckled lightly, pulling back from their hug a little to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I love you.” Florence said strongly, taking his face in her hands. “$0 in your pocket or millions. Doesn’t matter. Don’t you forget it, okay?”

Daniel nodded and leaned in to kiss her once, lingering there a moment longer before pulling back.

“Now no more tears.” Florence said, taking a deep breath herself as she started to feel herself start to cry. “There have been to many tears in this house today.”

#daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #why dont we music #anything but mine #imagines

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 24: Someone Actually Called the Cops.

So recently I was like, “I should do something different than my usual” and I decided to open up a little thread for critiquing ppl’s short stories, and I kid you not, the very first story I got was someone’s Seto Kaiba erotica. Which, even in erotica form, did not have very much romance in it. So, now that Yugioh will apparently haunt my every waking move forever until I die, lets get back to S4. Lets desperately get back to canon. I miss canon.

Last we left off, Kaiba lost KaibaCorp...again. Really feels like he loses this company once every couple of years (weeks if we count season 1-3). Except, this time, Dartz didn’t read the fine print in the legal files that says the company must be run by a member of the Kaiba family. While that was a huge plot point with Pegasus, turns out that Seto and Mokuba’s memories have been blended so thoroughly, like a very fine Shadow Realm smoothie, that they just...forgot.

And like I’m positive that Roland remembers, but Roland’s not gonna say something and accidentally reveal he’s the 4th Kaiba brother and have to get abducted all the time and actually work for a living. Anyways, they forgot why Pegasus abducted them in the first place in Season 1, and honestly, so did the writers of this season 4 years later. Not like it mattered, because if Seto and Mokuba did take Dartz to court, the world would end before their case would even start.

Which is how, after one talk with Roland, Seto and Mokuba just sort of laid prone on the metaphorical ground and let it wash over them that yes, KaibaCorp is gone.

I really like this extra-long helicopter, PS.

Both members of Kaiba’s Sunglasses Army decided to align themselves with Kaiba, although honestly, I don’t think anyone else in this company has realized that they’ve been bought. It happened...1 hour ago. Like what do you even do if your company randomly gets bought in the middle of a workday? Like no lead up, no indication, just BAM you’ve been bought?

And if Duke works for Pegasus who got bought out by Dartz and then Dartz bought Kaiba Corp-------What does that make Duke? Is he gonna have to start wearing sunglasses inside?

Anyway, Roland knows better than to tell Seto Kaiba he doesn’t work for him anymore while still in the same helicopter as Seto Kaiba, who already crashed one plane today and will crash yet another plane before this episode is through.

(read more under the cut)

Seto decides to align with Yugi since he needs to confront Dartz eventually. Which is when we find out that Seto always planned to align with Yugi and was just giving him a really hard time.

Because over the last several episodes, Seto has had an entire team at this random museum in Florida in order to take some pictures (that really should have already been on the internet but wtv, it was 2003 so maybe it wasn’t?)

It’s like most of the way through s4 and the biker ninjas still send me. How did he make SO MANY biker ninjas? At what point was Dartz like...and now...all my mooks...will be ninja bikers. Or orcs. Mostly Ninja bikers.

Did Alister or the others ever tell him “hey, Master Dartz, I get that your 10000 years old but like...do you not understand what a biker is?” and was Dartz like

“clearly bikers are the most evil thing in the world, obviously.” completely unaware that most bikers are just 45 year old accountants.

In these scenes we also get a gander at their laptops and, if you ever want to see high level life crippling OCD anxiety in picture form, it’s illustrated very clearly right here:

Not only did they draw this keyboard in 1 pt perspective, they used like a ruler to draw all those letters so they were the same size. Some artist put so much time getting this nice and crisp and smooth...and then this happened.

And I’m pretty sure they died after that. I’m pretty sure this scene killed an artist.

It’s at this point that Yami kinda puts two and two together and was like “WE BOUGHT PLANE TICKET’S, YOU ASSHOLES.”

(It’s been such a long time since we’ve seen Mokuba smile like this, and it’s because he’s been hiding the fact for So Many Episodes that he and his brother prepped like hours ago to get this huge dunk on the rest of the party. He just wants to dunk on them so bad. Look at him. His company was bought today. BUT he gets to spend time with his bro dunking.)

Serious question, will Delta refund your flight if the Great Leviathan appears in the sky and tries to eat your soul to reboot the world from the ground up?

Of course not. They will never refund your flight. Trick question.

We switch back over to Rebecca and Duke, who have been absent from this show for so long, I actually forgot what Duke’s name was and had to think for like...5 entire minutes until I remembered that his nickname sounds like a poop and I was like “oh man, what name of poop would it be???” and then I recalled “Dookie. Yes. His name is literally Dookie. Wow that took way too long!”

Then we start a story arc I’d to call “My Kingdom For a Sharpen Filter” where, much like King Lear, the Yugi crew splays themselves on a battle field just strewn with different ways to sharpen an image, but can’t for the life of them use any other one, but the one deep in the heart of what is now DartzCorp.

And so yes, we are going to fly to San Fransisco, hop into ye Olde KaibaCorp, and log into proto-Noah in order to read a language that Arthur Hawkins can already read.

This is nonsense, but they put it there because it’s something to do. And honestly, it’s not a card game, so I’m down for this change-up. Lets go visit a version of Noah’s brain. At least they won’t drop an orichalcos for the 12th episode in a row.

On the way, Seto decides to try and egg on Yugi.

This backfires as you expect it will because Yami doesn’t freakin care. Like he’s not Yugi, he doesn’t care who the King of Games is, he harnesses freakin Dark Magic. The Wizard never cares if he’s King Arthur or not, and in fact, he probably prefers it....

..................Except in that spinoff where they had Yugi as a reincarnation of King Henry VII.

...................................................never mind.

And then Seto Kaiba says this actual line and I just...

WH.

WHHH

WHAT?

This entire show is just watching Yugi desperately cling to his scary ass hobbies. The tagline of Yugioh is “1001 reasons to go back to school and get a real job.”

What does Kaiba think Yugi does when he’s not around? Does he actually think Yugi attends school or sleeps at night or works an actual job? Like...he thinks Yugi has...NO HOBBIES.

Very interesting insight into what Seto considers a hobby and not hobby.

Especially since this Yami, who spends most of his spare time farting around his scary ass brain castle and getting lost. Occasionally he is forced on a date with Tea and wipes minds. That’s it. That’s all the things Yami does outside of hobbies.

Anyway, what is Dartz doing during all of this?

After this, Dartz pulls back the literal curtains on this room to reveal these candles that each hold the soul of someone he’s murdered.

There are not NEARLY enough candles for this segment.

A very brave man to have candles littered on the floor when his hair is down to his ass and all of his mooks have floorduster coats.

I really want to know what the local arts and crafts store thought when Dartz strode in there and bought every single tiny styrafoam skull during the Halloween sale and was like “can I put souls in these? You sell the kind I can put souls in, right?” and then immediately pulled out like a dozen 50% off coupons like a complete asshole.

Anyway, using this candle hocus pocus, Dartz uses the Orichalcos powers to take advantage of something Yugi did in the first episode. We distantly recall there was a giant eyeball in the sky--turns out if you bust up the eyeball with, lets say, a card that has a dragon on it, the eyeball will explode into many tiny Orichalcos pieces that will fall all over planet Earth.

So apparently Yugi didn’t save anyone at all when he busted that eyeball, because he instead set in motion Dartz’ evil plan to eventually use these many tiny Orichalcos pieces like the one seen here, to kill the hell out of people.

Good job, Yugi. Too bad you missed the Actual Bakura.

In fact, actual Bakura is probably the only one who survived this incident because I guarantee that Ryou Bakura is too busy eating all the contents of his fridge out of stress. He’s probably opened his window at this point, seen the crazy lights in the sky and in the street and was like  “Blooooooody nope nopenopenopenopenope” and just locked the windows and doors, turned up Hercule Poirot to max volume, and stuffed his face with cookies.

(Or biscuits, I guess.)

WELL.

I don’t know how to tally that.

Yugioh not only broke the tally I was using to measure the distance they spent commuting this season, it also broke the tally on the amount of people who have died on this children’s show.

That’s a really big number.

We’ve had real duel monsters for a couple weeks but youknow...this time they’re extra, extra, extra real. More so than the last times. Also they’re all Orichalcos versions of their cards so their extra edge now. They’re the hot topic versions of what were already pretty hot-topic ass cards.

MMM. We come full circle, back at a dock, a warehouse, and some huge ass boat.

Right where we belong. Where all friends meet, where we can all finally be one.

Yugioh found one of the only cities that has a very famous and tourist heavy pier/warehouse district in it just so the Yugi gang could finally feel comfortable in their natural habitat. HOWEVER, there’s just one tiny problem in this scene, and it’s that it’s not overlaid with the actual soundscape of a SF pier, which is that of 100000 screaming seals

I don’t have a seal problem, you have a seal problem.

Anyway, the only healthy adults here attempt to follow the children into danger but someone on the animation team was like “we just lost the keyboard drawing guy to that capslock! We cannot lose any more interns to a crowd scene with 9 people in it and 2 dead bodies!” and they uh...

And we immediately eject Roland and whoever that weird sunglasses guy is out of the script. Mokuba gave them a longing glance as they helicoptered away. Maybe because he missed his Dad stand-ins that he went through such efforts to call in the first place. Or more likely, because Mokuba would have preferred to be on that helicopter and far away from whatever the hell is going to go down on this dock.

Honestly the rest of Joey’s storyline this episode is him going rogue because of Mai rage, and it both comes out of nowhere and also seems very on point for him.

Meanwhile, Rebecca’s unbridled rage towards Yami Muto is still low key hilarious to me.

Witness the only character here who thinks Yami should suffer actual consequences and witness Yami just appear to not give a single damn about it.

Nearly spat out my own drink watching this.

The...

...police...

...exist in this universe?

Anyway, while Tristan and Tea try to locate a payphone to dial 911, Seto and Yugi decide to invade Seto’s own company by going through an elevator that you have to reach through the sewers.

Straight up I don’t think SF even has sewers. At least, not in the sense that you can walk in em like New York or Paris or other cities that have sewers. Our sewer systems are very small cuz we got something called “liquefaction” which means our ground is so soft (and artificial--a lot of the land is fake), that when there is an earthquake, certain parts of the city will...liquefy. It’s Terrifying. We kind of...avoid going and building underground except in certain stable places. (like even BART gives me the heebies.)

I just have a very strong distrust of basements, caves and other underground places in general and it’s not because of spiders, or ghosts or whatever, I’m just afraid of faultlines. It’s like having an active volcano, but you just don’t see it, and we haven’t had a Big One since 1989 so...any day now (I mean, 2020 has been such redic content, that I think we’re finally ready)

Again, Japan has way more intense Earthquakes than we do, and yet they have a billion underground subways and very, very tall buildings, so like, this is mostly a big cultural difference between the two of us. And the bedrock. They probably have better bedrock than we do (honestly, I just have no idea).

MASTER HACKER SKILLS.

Almost as good as that time he hacked into Pegasus’ company by dropping a satellite on it. I’m starting to think Seto actually doesn’t know how to use a computer.

Anyway, Seto is faced with...real cards, real monsters, indisputable evidence, and he decides, it’s time. It’s time to finally face facts.

So, while these two are just flinging cards around willy nilly, Tea and Tristan are ...actually talking to police.

4 seasons. They’re actually doing it.

Although, TBH, they probably should have gone to the Japanese Embassy first? Just throwing that out there.

Ah Yugioh, the only kids show around that tells you point blank not to trust cops. Timeless.

U.S

In some weird underground earthquake hazard, Rebecca proves that she is smarter than Seto Kaiba. She’s maybe even the smartest person on this show. Nice that we gave her nothing to do this season but pine over Yugi who is already taken by Tea who he is also not even dating.

Not that I love Rebecca or anything, I actually have a hard time with her voice, but like...they really dropped the ball on Rebecca.

If she does end up joining Kaiba corp as their back up Felicity Smoak while Seto just runs around aimlessly punching stuff that really is just offbrand Arrow but with cards. And with slightly less resurrections.

So, lets get a gander at that computer.

We didn’t get to see Kaiba pull out 12 other discs to complete the installation process for these all these Hard Discs. Maybe the lure of throwing a very aerodynamic CD across the room like a paper card was so strong that his dev team forced him to switch to these defunct squares?

PS, I am a true millennial, OK? But, I don’t remember Hard Discs.

Hard Discs were SO long go. I stopped using these damn things in Elementary school. The last Hard Disc I ever touched was in college, when I had to put my art portfolio on a disc to submit it to my degree. I don't know even why. Everyone had a mac, so I knew no one’s computer in the department even...HAD a disc drive so it was like...whomst among you has this damn computer from 1997? Whomst among you is still using Windows 95? WHY would I put IMAGES on a floppy when I can just email them to you?

Anyway, I had to get a USB hard disc reader, and to get that reader, I had to call my Dad who had legacy software because he’s a computer engineer, and he had to mail it to me.

In that same portfolio review, PS, I also had to submit my portfolio as slides.

I didn’t even know where to produce slides so I had to ask all these old people and go to the last photo processing store on earth to get digital pictures turned into negatives and then turned into freakin slides.

SLIDES.

I honestly think they just did that to weed people out of the art degree.

Anyway, I tell you this story just to say that there is no way in hell that Kaiba was using a hard disc during the height of the CD era. We were CD or go home since 2000. We had pretty decent jump drives at this point. We had wifi. It was realllly bad wifi, but we had it. Your phone could connect to the internet. It would charge you 50 bucks, but it COULD connect.

Who on the Yugioh team DID this?

Anyway lets see these pictures that for which, we spent thousands of dollars in unused plane tickets, destroyed a Caltrain, killed 2 ancient Atlanteans (and their dog), killed 3 random mid-villains, walked across the entire Peninsula, crashed an international plane, and left both the plane and the train to rot gas fuel into the nearest lake which is right next to a ghost graveyard?

Yeaaaaaaaaaah!

Like he reads it and is all “They’re gonna resurrect Atlantis” and it’s like WE KNOW. Dartz and his hooligans have talked about starting their Utopia to reboot the world since Gurimo. Since Day 1.

Man.

Anyways, there was one plus to the pictures, and it was that Seto Kaiba recognized the Oricalchos logo.

just...

The Oricalchos logo is...

...This logo, Seto?

You...didn’t recognize...seriously? Not until just now? You have been inside of this logo, rearing to lose your soul to Alister 2 times, and he only recognized it...just now.

I mean Seto takes a while y’all. He’s a genius, but his memory is so, so bad, that he will Eventually get smart, but you have to wait until like episode 24. But he’ll get there. Just gotta be patient.

And, when he saw it, he wigged out in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

Y’all I feel like I’ve seen to many weird zooms on Kaiba’s crotch in this show. Or just in life in general, especially after that surprise fic. That’s all.

I don’t know why everything exploded, but maybe the logo is cursed in the same way as God Cards? I dunno.

Anyway, this is when Dartz shows up with his brand new dog.

So they run outside onto the roof.

Now listen, does every Kaiba Corp building need the same weird ass roof? Is it like a McDonalds?

Because I’m just picturing this type of roof in SF and I’m having a time.

Forgive me if I made this lemming joke already. He’s just stood on a cliff’s edge so many times I can’t keep up.

RIP Dragon Jet, who took us from S3-S4, you’ll always live on in our memory, you glorious, wasteful, beautiful death trap.

Seto and Yugi are fine by the way, they just kinda jumped out, as you do when you’re an immortal god possessing a small boy and a...whatever the hell Seto is.

It’s at this point we reintroduce Valon because Joey went rogue and has decided to take on Dartz by himself. This is what happens when Tristan leaves the party. You always need Tristan to hold back Joey by his armpits to keep him from fighting random people.

So I guess Valon’s gonna die next episode. That’ll be nice.

What’s great about this show is each arc is just watching each villain die. You know they’ll die. But...how much?

Anyway, that’s all for today. I’m still drawing a hell ton of stuff so I don’t know when the next update will be...but just now I haven’t dropped off or something. I’ll...eventually get to it.

And if you just got here, this is a link to read all of these in chrono order.

Anyway, I mentioned Hercule Poirot, (because watching a hell ton of BBC was how I spent time with my family when I was a kid, and my very Southern Grandma freakin LOVED Hercule Poirot) So here is the best subplot of that show, which is David Suchet eating stuff.

And which doesn’t want to embed for some reason. Probs can’t embed more than one video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17antzzJrzQ

#yugioh #yu gi oh #photo recap #episode recap #yami #yami muto #seto kaiba #crashes a plane again #dragon plane #rip in our memories dragon plane #mokuba #joey wheeler #tea gardner #tristan taylor #has to now avoid the cops #dartz #rebecca hawkins #duke devlin #man there were so many people in this episode #S4 #Ep24

[brownstonearmy]

2019-09-13: Perfume, Piggies, and Piddles

Wednesday June 24 (Morning)

Kalani is still recuperating from their recent journey to Mechanus, but the rest of the party are in stable enough shape to go into work this morning. Along the way, a group of hunters are overheard talking about the bounty for dead gnolls being increased to 2 silver pieces per intact carcass. Once inside the office, the Dave dishes dirt on all the stuff that's been going on during the party's two week absence.

Dave and Tyrik have been working overtime to keep things afloat, and work orders have been piling up. The mayor is running several sessions of a workshop this week called "How To Not Get Kidnapped: A Presentation By Mayor Shepherd Dunwall," and participation is suggested for all municipal staffers. Since the party has already successfully escaped after being kidnapped, Dave is cool with everyone skipping out on the presentation because there are more important things to do.

Strange things happened during the full moon two nights ago. A strong beam of light broke through the clouds and centered itself on the compound where the Order of the Immaculate Shadow are sequestered. This spooked some of the citizens, and caused a dramatic uptick in reported sightings of werewolves. At three separate locations, it was reported that a werewolf-looking creature was defecating and urinating inside the city limits. Cleaning up individual poops and piddle puddles isn't usually handled by SHART, but the citizens are afraid to deal with the mess on their own for fear of catching "Werewolf Disease" (AKA lycanthropy).

Grieg grabs a shovel and a hand cart, and then the party sets out to gather some better work gloves for the occasion. They make a quick jaunt over to Oneida's, a glovemaking shop owned by (you guessed it!) Oneida Cobblepot. Lucky picks up three sets of long embroidered gloves on sale for 1gp, while Grieg gets a pair of plain gloves that come up past the elbow. Q is feeling like calling themselves "Daffodil" today, and spends a bit longer searching for the perfect gloves for today. Q/Daffodil eventually decides on some bright red work gloves with black lace trim. Q wants to accessorize with matching footwear, but Oneida only sells gloves. Oneida tells them that there is an orc named Zagga who makes quality artisanal shoes.

The party opts to proceed to the job sites to clean up the mess instead of getting matching footwear, and they strike out to the northeast portion of town near the fighters guild to assess the situation. Along the way, everyone sees several signs posted on trees and buildings. It's a lost pet poster where the owner of the perfumery, Peggy-Ann Sweetbreeze, is looking for her pig. Although they don't see any signs of the pig on this leg of the journey, the first poop site is not hard to find. There's a sizable turd on the ground next to a building, and a 10-foot chalk circle has been drawn around it to keep people from wandering into the Danger Zone. Also inside the confines of the Danger Zone is a wall covered with a particularly caustic urine splatter. Lucky takes one look at it and prestidigitates it away. Easy peasy!

Except Grieg was hoping to investigate the poop to get more clues about what they're dealing with. There are more poop sites to visit, though, and the party heads south toward the shipping and arts district.

They find the second site without much trouble, but Grieg sees the poop first and swoops in to investigate. He takes a stick and gives it a poke. His determination is that it's from some sort of mammalian carnivore, but that is about the extent of what he can tell. Lucky, on the other hand, notices some greasy-looking black hairs in the dirt. She casts Mage Hand to pick them up and get a closer look. The hairs smell foul and don't look like they belong to some sort of wolf.

Lucky takes out the letter from Half-Nut and suggests that maybe they're actually on the trail of a gnoll instead of a werewolf. The signs match up.

As they're leaving the second site, the party sees Jangles setting up some complicated looking measurement tools near a sewer manhole. Jangles is feeling particularly lady-like today and is collecting calibration data for her next project codenamed "Peppermint Breeze." Jangles asks the party if they would be willing to assist her with temporarily blocking some sewer tunnels with boards in order to pressurize an underground chamber with gas. Although wary of exactly what this experiment might entail, the party agrees to participate.

Q and Grieg clamber down through the manhole and block the tunnel's airflow. Stinky sewer gas begins building up in the chamber. Jangles gives Lucky a small silver cannister with an experimental compound to be opened once the manhole cover is in place. Lucky follows into the chamber and Jangles replaces the manhole cover. The pressurized gas is too much for Q and Grieg to hold back, and the boards fly open. Lucky's Mage Hand uncaps the cannister, which sizzles for a moment before explosively reacting with the sewer gas and blowing the manhole cover sky-high.

Dazed and deafened, the party emerges from the sewer to find an excited Jangles. The experiment was a massive success! She pays the party 100GP per person, hands over a Handy Spice Pouch, and gives Lucky a sample of the X-Ray Tincture she had commissioned Jangles to create. Jangles packs up her things and the party heads off to deal with the last known werewolf poop sighting.

The third poop is located in a densely-populated working class neighborhood in the warehouse district on the riverwalk. Crowds of people are going about their daily business, though there is a curiously empty spot that everyone seems to be avoiding. Grieg pushes his way through the crowd. "Everybody back up! I'm the Pee-Pee Poo-Poo Man!" he yells. Audible gasps erupt from the crowd. Is someone going to deal with this awkwardly-dropped turd on someone's doorstep?

Members of the crowd are afraid for the safety of the approaching party members. Grieg assures the crowd with a wave of his hand. "I'm an orc; I don't get Werewolf Sick." He makes enough space for Lucky and Q to get through. Lucky blasts the area with Prestidigitation to clean things up, and the crowd cheers.

A tearful lady emerges from the house. She had been trapped in her house for two whole days because of the Poop on the Stoop. With that contagious werewolf dropping disposed of, she is free to live her life as she intended.

By now the party is pretty convinced that the serial shitter is a gnoll, and they trek south of the river toward the perfumery to speak with Peggy-Ann. Grieg notices some relatively recent pig tracks as they cross the bridge. Time to head into the woods in search of pig and/or gnolls!

South of the perfumery and sawmill, Q hears the sound of an animal whining. Following Q's keen ears, the party comes upon a cream-colored pig foraging for food. Unbeknownst to the pig, four hyenas are sneaking up on it.

Lucky casts Minor Illusion to make the sound of a roaring dragon, which causes a tiny stampede as both the pig and the hyenas flee from the sound. Lucky makes a signal to Grieg, and he grabs her with one hand and starts sprinting toward the pigs. Q dashes after the pig to keep it safe from the hyenas.

Lucky creates another illusion, this time of a large pile of apples. Missy Piggums stops in surprise and tries to nibble unsuccessfully on the illusory apples. Grieg drops Lucky, who fishes a real apple out of her bag and offers it to the pig. Over the next several minutes, the party lures Missy Piggums back to the perfumery.

Peggy-Ann is thrilled to see her beloved Missy Piggums returned safely. Peggy-Ann is preparing for the launch of her new perfume tonight, but the event preparation hasn't been going smoothly because she's been so preoccupied with finding Missy. Also, she hired a relatively famous Elven bard named Caelynn Tilathana for the event, but she disappeared last night and there's not a lot of time to find a replacement. Peggy-Ann notices that Q is of the bardic persuasion, and asks if they would be amenable to performing as Caelynn just so Peggy doesn't have to change the posters she's set up all over town. Q agrees on the condition that the rest of the party be able to attend the function.

Lucky volunteers to be Q/Caelynn's bodyguard, provided she can invite Hilaria as her +1. Grieg will also be an entertainer, one who specializes in interesting feats of pure skill and athleticism. The event starts just after sundown, so everyone makes plans to meet back at the perfumery by then.

As the party walks back toward home, there is a thundering crash of trees being knocked over. It is a house that walks atop four massive chicken legs! The house comes to a stop in front of Lucky and opens the door. Two humans Lucky has never seen before poke their heads out. From their unusual speech patterns, Lucky figures out that this is Kosja and her clutchmate, Turalisoth. They have transformed themselves into "soft-skins" thanks to Jangles' Jumble Juice. Now that they can pass as humans, they have decided to open up a restaurant in town.

Unsure of what to offer at a human restaurant, Kosja asks for advice. Lucky suggests eggs, while Grieg suggests salads with cheese. Kosja understands the appeal of eggs, but a bowl full of sad leaves is not as readily understandable. And cheese is a completely foreign concept. Grieg considers trying to explain what cheese is, but opts to avoid an in-depth discussion of the social implications of cheese and the game concludes for the evening.

How will this situation get resolved? Stay tuned next time for more!

#dungeons and dragons #adventure log #5e #fishdavidson #shits and giggles #poster #lost pet

[rm-dimplemaster-blog]

Hikikomori

Chapter 1 here

summary:  In which Jin is a 24 year old social recluse and Namjoon is a computer techie who enters the house Jin hasn’t left in 4 years to fix his gaming computer. Can Namjoon draw Jin out of his loneliness and enter his heart?

Chapter 2

Jin just kinda stares at this dude that's standing there in the doorway. Namjoon, cool name for a cool looking guy. He's got a black sweater on with this huge grinning skull on the front and he's got a pair of blue sunglasses on his head even though it's late afternoon already and it hasn't been sunny all day long. A pair of caramel-colored Timberlands. A thick silverish ring on the forefinger of his right hand. Killer smile, but that's beside the point.

See, Jin was just in the midst of going down with this ship called depression just a minute ago, feeling sorry for himself and for all the Mars colonies he'd created that will now no longer have a cool leader to run 'em like a pro.

And now reality comes busting into his house giving his cat kitty heart attacks and knocking stuff over cause clumsiness galore. And Jin now has to deal with the fact that

a. This is the first real person he'd been in close proximity to in the past four years other than his mom and dad, and holy ramen noodles, major freakout attack material right there.

b. This guy Namjoon has the cutest set of dimples Jin has ever seen on ANYONE basically.

and

c. He smells amazing. Like, really amazing. This sweet combo of rain (cause it's been overcast all day and flashes have been going off up there in the sky like angles are taking selfies in Heaven) and oranges and Just soft warm skin.

And for some reason it's like Jin can't even realize that Namjoon's there to fix his computer for him. All he can focus on is that there's someone in his personal space, in his own private world. And to him it feels like when you pull out a fresh sheet of paper and lay it on the floor to paint on and suddenly your jerk of a cat comes flying in through the cat flap all the way from the yard (after it rained for like hours and hours) and it walks all over the shocking white of the paper, leaving muddy paw prints everywhere. It's like, for the moment, his room doesn't feel like it's his anymore? And all his stuff feels foolish and childish when Namjoon's gaze passes over everything in sight. And even though Namjoon's not judging him, for Jin it feels like he does cause he must be, cause that's just what people do, right? And Jin hugs himself because his room now has someone else's body heat in it, someone else's voice, someone else's smell and footfalls, and to Jin it feels like someone stuck a finger into his heart and swiped it through the arteries, like wiping away dust, and it feels raw like touching an open wound and he can feel himself closing up from the intrusion of it.

Jin thinks this is even worse than his computer dying on him, and him having to live without it. He wishes his mom had never called anyone. And it's silly cause how exactly did he expect someone to fix his computer without coming into his room to gain access to it? He's mad at himself for not thinking this whole thing through.

Jin forces himself to uncurl his legs, stand up, and be an adult.

Keikeu's bell rings out from the living room. Namjoon looks over his shoulder, smile frozen on his lips in fright.

"It's summoning the killer cat squad," he says, "right? They'll be waiting to pounce on me the second I take my clumsy self out of the building. They be like: jingle jingle jingle, now we turn ya into a Pringle." He shakes his head, "cats, man. They're fierce. Mess with 'em and you find poop in your slipper, no joke."

Namjoon walks in. The door remains a tiny bit open and through it Jin can see all the way to the opening of the hallway, see their living room with the sand-colored sofas and the black tables and chairs and cabinets—his dad's love for minimalism and simplicity.

Namjoon goes "ah!" when he knocks Jin's Totoro lamp over with a careless swipe of his elbow. "Really?" he mutters as he tries to straighten it back up. Looking disappointed in his clumsiness and the exact capacity of his powers of destruction.

Jin holds his hands behind his back, left hand grabbing right wrist. He watches Namjoon struggle to stand the smiling Totoro back up.

Jin got this lamp when he was seventeen. It came with a cute set of stickers and a cool notebook which he probably still has lying around his room somewhere. He bought it one day on his way back from school. It was one of those feel-low days when you're feeling small and useless and lost. Top it off with a super cloudy fall afternoon when the wind gets under the neckline of your striped purple and baby blue sweater and creeps down your spine, and your hair's a mess cause your bangs are sticking out in every possible direction all pointy and frizzy, AND some guy just made fun of you at school cause they thought you're the most awkward thing they'd ever seen and the biggest nerd to have ever existed. It's on days like these that you kinda wait for the universe to give you a sign that it's still got your back in a way? So he spotted this lamp in a display window and it was on, casting this warm glow against the backdrop of rainy grey Seoul. And Jin bought it cause it was literally someone or something offering him a source of light on a dark day and it eased the sadness for a while.

"It's okay," Jin says cause he sees Namjoon still struggling with Totoro.

Bent forward over Jin's desk, Namjoon holds his hands out in front of Totoro's smiling face and looks at Jin over his shoulder, "I should probably just leave it, huh. For the sake of Totoro's sanity. And wellness of being."

Jin shrugs one shoulder. He looks at Totoro's round body, caught In the middle of what looks like some serious skipping down a foresty hill or something with a bunch of invisible friends. Would he care if the lamp breaks? At his point, probably not. He's feeling stressed and bummed out and nothing really seems to matter at this point.

Namjoon studies him for a few secs, an empathetic full face study. Jin can swear Namjoon can somehow feel that Jin's not on his best day today. Namjoon's eyes study Jin's eyes, patient and curious and soft. And understanding, too.

Jin looks down super fast, gaze skittering across his black keyboard and his open planner which has a bunch of doodling inside it cause it's useless for planning cause he has nothing to note down cause he's got nothing to do all day anyway. You can't write down play video games cause it's not something you'd forget to do if you do it all day anyways, right.

Holding eye contact has always been hard for him. You let people look inside you, you open the door for them to pass judgment on you and make mean comments about you. It always made Jin feel exposed, like he's this one single tree standing on a hill in the trajectory of like three traveling typhoons and he's about to be knocked down, yanked out of the ground, or just be torn to pieces.

Jin can feel Namjoon's eyes on him for a few more seconds. Then Namjoon takes a step back and grabs the computer chair's backrest with both hands. Jin notices his hands are big and bony and look like their skin is nice and warm. For some weird reason, he wonders what his hand would feel like, swiping the bangs out of Jin's eyes and caressing his cheek.

"Is it cool if I sit," he asks.

"Yeah, sure," Jin says as he nervously looks round the room for something to sit on. He then realizes duh, bed  and sits on the end of it behind Namjoon and a bit to the left. He presses his hands together and tucks them between his knees.

Namjoon tosses his notebook on the table.

Knocks Jin's pencil case over.

Exasperated sign, "ah, really?"

Pens come tumbling out of the pencil case like an avalanche.

Namjoon mutters a really embarrassed sorry! And starts tiding everything up.

"Ah, Muji!" Namjoon exclaims, holding up a black Muji gel pen with the ever amazing 0.38 tip. "These are awesome. I always misplace the caps though. Cause pens really hate me, so."

He puts all the pens back into the pencil case and zips it closed just in case.

Jin's discomfort level is like 1000% right now. The last time another person was inside his room touching his stuff was probably like six years ago, this or that person who claimed to be his friend and walked out on him when they got bored with his introvert nature. In his last year of school when he was still acting kinda normal and functioning: going to classes, picking stuff up from the shops for his mom and dad, going to the library to drink a decaf and flip through a manga for a few hours.

And now it's Namjoon in his chair, Namjoon's fingerprints all over his Muji pens, on his pencil case, on his planner. Namjoon's smell is everywhere, this invigorating orange that's causing the room to feel like it's transitioning to summer right in the middle of winter. Jin lowkey feels like screaming.

Namjoon manages to get the command screen to pop up. Jin looks at it over Namjoon's shoulder—tiny tiny letters running and flashing on the pitch black screen.

Namjoon kinda gasps at the screen when the letters show up all at once. He then lets out this uh, okay? Sound and looks lost for like 15 seconds before he cracks his notebook open and starts flipping through it real quick. The raspy sound of pages turning is everywhere and Jin bounces his legs up and down, wishing it would be over soon so he can go back to his alone time and silky silence.

CLICK!

Jin's mom closes the bedroom door. It startles both Jin and Namjoon.

"Whoa," Namjoon says with one hand pressed to his heart.

Jin swallows hard, shakes the bangs out of his eyes.

"Feels like my heart just went up my nose there for a sec," Namjoon says then goes back to his notebook after giving the door another cautious glance.

And all Jin can think about is that it's just the two of them there and the door's closed and

don't freak out don't freak out don'tfreakout.

Jin shuts his eyes tight. He squeezes his knees around his hands, hard.

He waits for the fresh wave of panic to subside.

When he opens his eyes again, Namjoon's feeding commands into the system.

Honestly, it looks like he has 0 idea of what he's doing or why.

"Cool computer you got here," Namjoon says and spins the chair around for a sec to look at Jin, killer smile activated, "use it for gaming?"

It's small talk and Jin's supposed to answer, isn't he. And

Bam--

Mental block and what are words even.

"Uh."

#namjin #namjoon #jin #hikikomori #bts fanfic #bts

[almostafantasia]

@raccoonhearteyes said “imagine clexa with a baby” so i did and i ended up writing this little thing...

When Lexa returns to Polis after a four day trip to investigate reports of bandits raiding villages in the east, Clarke does not expect her to be cradling an infant in her arms, wrapped up in the soft red material of the sash that normally hangs from the pauldron on her left shoulder.

“Lexa, what the hell is that?”

Lexa looks down at the bundle in her arms, brushing the back of one gloved finger across the sleeping baby’s cheek, before answering, “It’s a baby.”

Clarke sighs, and then says, “I can see that. I meant, what are you doing with a baby?”

“We found her in the woods not too far from a village that had burned to the ground,” Lexa informs her. “There was no sign of her mother. We couldn’t just leave her there.”

“What’s going to happen to her?”

“We’ll find her some new parents. There will be somebody in this city who can offer her a good home. But until then, we’ll have to keep her in the tower.”

Clarke peers down for a closer look at the infant, who sleeps soundly in the comfort of Lexa’s arms, and wrinkles her nose up. Sure, the child is cute enough, with chubby cheeks and tufts of dark hair on its tiny head, but it’s still a baby and while it may be sleeping now, Clarke knows that its slumber won’t last forever and then it will be back to pooping and screaming and whatever else it is that babies do.

She can only hope that Lexa manages to pass the baby on to the relevant people before he baby wakes.

…

When Lexa said that the baby would be living in the tower until she could move to a new home, Clarke did not realise that the baby would be living in their quarters. Clarke has absolutely no say in the matter when two of Lexa’s guards bring a small wooden crib filled with blankets and set it up in the corner of their bedroom, and when she opens her mouth to protest, she can only close it again because Lexa, who is sitting on the edge of their bed feeding the infant milk through a bottle and speaking to it in hushed Trigedasleng, is clearly smitten by the tot and Clarke can’t find the malice within her to burst that bubble.

Much later that night, long after the candles have been snuffed out and the only light in the bedroom is the silvery moonlight that filters through the window from outside, Clarke learns that babies can cry a lot louder than she thought they could.

“Lexa!” Clarke hisses, rolling onto her back with a huff as a wail rips through the silence of their bedroom for the third time since they lay down for the night. “It’s crying again. Sort it out.”

Lexa peels back the furs and pads across the room, lifting the baby from the cot with gentle hands and holding it tight to her chest. She paces back and forth, rocking and hushing the baby as she moves, until the cries quieten down into silence once more.

“You don’t like her, do you?” Lexa’s voice softly speaks up from the other side of the room.

Clarke’s eyes flicker down to the baby in Lexa’s arms and she shrugs.

“I like sleep,” she tells Lexa. “I don’t like things that disturb my sleep.”

Lexa looks up from the baby in her arms and arches an eyebrow at Clarke, and Clarke hates how she knows exactly what the little smile pushing at the corner of Lexa’s lips is insinuating.

Which brings Clarke to another reason for her dislike of the baby. She enjoys sex, and while Lexa’s return from a trip out of the city would normally be celebrated several rather vigorous rounds of lovemaking throughout the night, something that Clarke is often very willing to sacrifice her precious sleep for, there is no way that Clarke is going to initiate something like that while a baby sleeps on the other side of their bedroom.

“Come back to bed,” Clarke calls across the bedroom, before she promptly rolls over and cocoons herself in the warmth of the furs that cover their large bed.

Lexa doesn’t respond to Clarke’s summons immediately, staying with the baby as she continues to rock it back to sleep, by which time Clarke has almost dozed off too. She’s aware of a dip in the bed as Lexa climbs back beneath the covers, and cuddles into the new warmth beside her sleepily, before she falls asleep completely with Lexa’s arms around her.

…

Clarke isn’t sure whether daycare in Polis is hard to find or whether it is Lexa’s choice to forgo a babysitter. Whichever one it is, it has led them to this moment, to Lexa standing at the front of a room filled with some of her most trusted advisors and leaders, discussing solutions to the raiding problem while a tiny infant is nestled against her chest in a baby-carrier that Lexa has fashioned out of a spare piece of fabric.

Clarke doesn’t like the baby, but she’s decided that she likes Lexa with the baby. Lexa has a natural maternal instinct that probably comes from years of teaching the young nightbloods, but what this really boils down to is that seeing the fearsome Commander of the thirteen clans with a baby strapped to her chest is sparking a need deep in Clarke’s loins that can only be an evolutionary mating instinct to procreate with the love of her life.

It’s incredibly distracting.

“What say you, Clarke kom Skaikru?”

Clarke jolts to attention as Lexa says her name, only to find that every pair of eyes in the room is bearing down on her, waiting for an answer to a question that Clarke didn’t listen to.

“Sorry,” she mumbles apologetically. “What was that?”

“Skaikru have reported trouble near to Arkadia,” Lexa repeats for Clarke’s benefit. “How is your Chancellor responding to these problems?”

Clarke reels off an answer, paraphrasing things that her mom told her during her last official visit to Arkadia, and hoping that it satisfactorily answers Lexa’s question. She stumbles over her words halfway through, distracted by the way the baby nestled against Lexa’s chest starts whining. Or rather, she is distracted by the way that Lexa tends to the baby when it starts whining, rocking up and down and hushing the baby whilst still paying absolute attention to everything that Clarke is saying.

Clarke finishes her answer, aware that she hasn’t really contributed anything useful to the discussion, but thankfully two of the other ambassadors jump in and start bouncing ideas back and forth between them.

Despite her dislike of small children, especially this particular baby, which kept her up most of the night with its cries and has left her feeling more sleep-deprived than she would like to be for important meetings with Lexa and the other ambassadors, Clarke finds herself staring at the way that Lexa pays full attention to the discussion taking place whilst absently cradling the baby’s head through the material of the sling that carries it, and dreams of a time in the far off future where it might be their child that Lexa holds tight to her chest.

The thought terrifies Clarke at first, but then it envelops her like a warm hug and leaves her feeling oddly comforted.

…

Lexa announces that a new home has been found for the infant shortly after they share dinner in their private rooms at the top of the tower. Clarke is relieved that she doesn’t need to go another night without proper sleep, but internally mourns the loss of being able to watch Lexa’s natural motherly instincts.

Lexa is understandably sad to watch the baby go (Clarke swears that she sees tears in Lexa’s eyes but they are blinked away before she can comment on it) and Clarke consoles her in the best way that she knows.

“Do you want children of your own?” Clarke asks, tracing her fingers up and down Lexa’s naked spine after a second round of helping Lexa to forget the baby that she became so fond of in just a single day.

“I’m not sure,” Lexa answers, her eyes blinking open lazily to look at Clarke. She pauses, then admits honestly, “I would love to be a mother, but raising a child would impede on my job as Commander. I cannot serve my people well if I’m also looking after an infant.”

“You seemed to manage today.”

Lexa makes a non-committal noise, her brows furrowing together as she loses herself deep in thought. Clarke can’t even begin to guess what Lexa is thinking about, so she leaves her to her thoughts, trailing delicate patterns along the skin on display in front of her with no real purpose.

“Do you want children?” Lexa asks suddenly.

“I didn’t,” Clarke answer truthfully. “Well, I’ve always been indifferent to the idea of parenthood, and I’m not going to have children unless it’s something that I absolutely want. But then I saw you with that baby and now I want, like, ten.”

Lexa’s eyes widen, and she asks, “Really?”

“You’d make a good mother, Lexa,” Clarke assures her, letting her exploratory fingers rest and draping her arm around Lexa’s slim waist. “Maybe someday, when the world is a little more at peace, you’ll have that chance.”

“Someday,” Lexa hums in agreement.

“As for now…” Clarke rolls Lexa onto her back in one deft movement and sits across the brunette’s hips, her palms riding up Lexa’s ribcage and over the swell of her breasts, before resting them on Lexa’s shoulders. Leaning down, Clarke takes Lexa’s earlobe between her teeth and pulls until Lexa lets out a sharp gasp, then whispers, “Let’s make a baby.”

Clarke nuzzles her face into Lexa’s neck as she sends one of her hands back down Lexa’s stomach between their bodies, fingers darting down through a dark patch of neat hair before they dip between Lexa’s thighs.

“I don’t know what they taught you about reproduction on the Ark,” Lexa says, her breath hitching as Clarke’s fingers dip into wet heat, “but that’s not how it works.”

Clarke’s laughter ripples from her chest, through her throat, and fills the dark bedroom with its honeyed warmth as she replies, “Sure it is.”

#clexa #clexa fanfic #clexa fic #clarke griffin #commander lexa #cba to think of a title #so this will probably be a tumblr exclusive #not my best work #also i don't think i've ever written canon universe clexa before #it was weird

[feedit]

LiketyLikeLikeLike

Hillary Clinton wants you to like her.

I mean, she’s not staying up at night thinking about you, per se, but in general she wants to be liked. And that, she admits, has been a problem.

I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing Secretary Clinton this week in Chicago as she toured in support of her book, What Happened. She said that just after her tenure as Secretary of State, her approval ratings were around 69%. People seemed to really like her when she was in a supporting role: As First Lady, as a Senator from New York, as Secretary of State. But when she stepped up and wanted to lead the nation as President, and indeed when she was a candidate, her approval ratings went down substantially.

She admitted that when people openly express that they don’t like her it is painful, even though she knew that it’s very common especially for those who run for public office and as an experienced public persona, she also knew what she was getting into as she stepped into the spotlight on her own. But it still hurts, she said. 

Who can blame her? We all want to be liked, even powerful, strong people have that basic human need for approval at some level. But not everyone has public polling numbers following them around to remind them of their ‘failure’ in this regard. 

Secretary Clinton noted when women are ‘behind the scenes’ for others in power – publicly or privately – they are seen as (and I’m paraphrasing here) warm, sincere and honest, but when they want to lead, suddenly they are cold, conniving and selfish climbers who have abandoned all of their previous morals to attain personal glory. But when men move from the background into a more prominent role, they are seen as successful, strong, intelligent and bold, and it is completely understandable that they would want more for themselves and strive to achieve those goals. Women who do the same are less liked than their male counterparts as a whole. And sadly, this shift in opinion, which has been measured in scientific polls, comes from both men and women.  

Once upon a time, I was asked to take a ‘behind the scenes’ role by a partner in the advertising agency where I worked because the client on the account that I led “didn’t like my style.” To me that was insulting on so many levels. I felt that ‘my style’ was being honest, direct, hard-working and smart, all things I had been raised to believe were positive traits. But when I was being asked to support a junior person on the team, I realized this client wanted to be the smartest woman in the room. Perhaps I was a threat, even though I felt that my job was to help her succeed? After all, she was my client and her success was the agency’s success, if not my own.

I guess she didn’t see it that way.

As angry as I was, a tiny part of me was also hurt. I didn’t want to be best friends with this person, but why didn’t she like me? Wasn’t I really more similar to her than not? Why not support a fellow smart woman in a leadership role who was just doing her job, and actually doing it well? Was I supposed to sublimate myself or bring her coffee to reassure her that I was clearly her underling? I will never understand this phenomenon, no matter how many times it happened to me and to others through the years. 

Needless to say I didn’t take that news very well. I stacked a pile of folders for this client on the floor by a partner’s office door and left the agency for the day. I told them I’d be so far behind the scenes that I actually would not be working on this particular account at all and good day. I may have also punched the wall by my cubicle on the way out. I have a tiny scar on the knuckle of my right hand and when it rains sometimes that joint aches just a little bit.

It’s my modern-day war wound.

Roxane Gay writes about likability and her struggle with it in the essay, “Not Here to Make Friends,” in her collection, Bad Feminist. Gay writes, “I had no idea what it meant to be likable, though I was surrounded by generally likeable people – or, I suppose, I was surrounded by people who were very invested in projecting a likable façade, people who were willing to play by the rules.”

Further on she poses, “Why is likability even a question?” and discusses how one common criticism of popular fiction is the ‘likability’ of female characters.

“Some might suggest that this likability question is a by-product of an online culture in which we reflexively click ‘Like’ or ‘Favorite’ on every status update and bit of personal trivia shared on social networks. … it would be shortsighted to believe that this desire to be liked… begins or ends with the Internet.”

It’s so addictive to be Liked.

I enjoy – I almost wrote ‘like’ – Facebook. A lot. Being a SAHM is often a lonely enterprise in terms of adult companionship and I find that reaching out online throughout the day makes me feel more connected to the Grown Up world that I might otherwise participate in IRL if I were a person with a Real Job Outside the Home. (I dislike the term Working Mother, but that’s another topic.)

Facebook is the modern day Slam Book, and it’s so easy to cast a quick and thoughtless judgment upon the masses. Like. Angry. Sad. Quick snarky comment. Eye roll emoji. I try to stay away from political commentary - even those with opinions with which I vehemently agree - simply because I can’t sit idly by and watch comments go by without adding my own thumbs up or down, and impulsively watching if others do the same. If so, they must be smart like me. If not, well… poop emoji for them. 

As I’ve been writing more frequently and spending time to promote myself in the past few months, I have found more and more drawn to the Like. Writers tend to be terrible self-critics and the online world is the perfect venue for rampant self-doubt to find fertile ground to grow and fester. Compulsively, I check to see who read my latest piece. Did they Like it? Love it? Haha at it? Sad face rate it? Share it – ah, bingo, more chances for more Likes, more Love. More more more.

It worries me because these instant, Pavlovian ratings can pummel my self-esteem. Nobody put a heart on my stunning Instagram photograph? My kitschy homemade Halloween decorations? My self-deprecating and witty observation about parenthood? My heartfelt personal essay? Conversely, I get an adrenaline rush from seeing that Like count rise and other comments supporting my efforts. Where are you, my digital friends? Come and share a moment of your time and a few electrons to validate me. Like like like me. If you do, I must be OK. I must be doing OK as a writer, as a mom, as a human being. It’s my own Approval Rating Meter: 44 Likes today = Likable? Acceptable? Smart?

Or not. 

As of today, November 1,  I deleted Facebook from my phone. It’s just been a few hours now but it’s kind of painful, honestly. I literally forgot that I deleted it moments after - That’s done, now I’ll just go check on, oh wait a minute…  It may be impossible to completely go dark (I do use it for volunteer work and events) but my goal is to stay away from it for most of the day. I wonder if I will feel like a relief or a terrible sacrifice? Will I feel less liked or will I just care less about being liked? 

Either way, it will be interesting. Poop emoji, smiley face, wink, donut.

#like #facebook #roxanegay #hillaryclinton #badfeminist #whathappened #women

[thewindowseat]

Elephanting: My Training as a Mahout

Thailand is synonymous with elephants. Everyone wants to see elephants in Thailand and I was no different. I wanted to ride down beautiful rivers on the back of an enormous, majestic creature. I wanted to touch it and feel it’s thousands of years of evolution with my fingertips. But mostly, I wanted to know, “How does one show love to such an enormous creature?” That single question would lead me on a ride of a lifetime.

When I arrived in Thailand, some new Thai friends wanted to help me realize my dream, so they took me to an elephant village. These are tiny theme parks designated to the love of the gentle giants that helped win wars for Thailand, once upon a time. These villages have food carts, markets, knick-knack shops and of course, the stars of the show, elephants. Admission is free but for a tiny fee you can become buddies with an elephant through various interactions. You can ride them, feed them, take pictures with them, even get lifted up by a trunk for an incredible profile picture. I was so excited to touch one, make eye contact, feel its tough skin and interact with it by sharing a special, wild animal moment.  But that’s not what happened.

When I finally came face to face with the towering beast, for the first time in my life, it was horrible.  I looked into its eyes as it was tied to a tree and they were pin points, like it was on drugs or on high alert. It sat there rocking back and forth like a frightened child in a horror film. I bought some bananas to feed to one particular elephant as it’s “guardian” stood by ensuring it chewed. The melancholy elephant took my offerings like a robot, without any emotion at all, as a line of people fed it the same thing behind me. The animals carrying patrons around were moping. Walking slow like they had done it a million times before (and later I learned that they had) with gigantic chains hanging from their necks attached to their feet. It was like an elephant chain-gang. The men steering the elephants all held hooks. Hooks! Why on Earth would anyone need a hook? It felt wrong. It was not the spiritual experience I was hoping for, so I started researching if there were places that I could go to show an elephant love. And thus my search began.  

And here I am today, at an elephant rescue known as Elephant Temple, which sells elephant poop coffee to support the elephants. I came for a visit and asked the monk if he wanted any help, when he said yes, I asked the owner if I could live here and help for a while. Volunteerism doesn’t really exist in Thailand, so they met my meager generosity in typical Thai fashion. Since they didn’t have a place for me to stay, they built me a house. Yes, a beautiful loft style hut with my own toilet and bucket to shower.

We call it a temple because it’s an actual ordained Buddhist temple, which means no matter how hot, or how humid, I have to wear temple appropriate attire. That’s the hardest part. Otherwise my day is pretty easy met with spurts of giant activity (excuse the pun).

Always kissing

My day goes as follows:

MORNING: I wake up at 6:30am and put on deodorant, brush my teeth, lather my face with sunscreen and head out to stock the stalls full of fresh food. I have to wear long sleeves as the leaves are full of bugs and the thin leaves grace me with hundreds of tiny, paper-cut like scratches. I greet Prat San when he returns from blessing the village and gathering food. I then wait on my porch while he marches the elephants in from their dirt pasture to the covered day-stalls. By 8am I unload the new shipment of fresh cut stalks of leaves and grass. Then I eat breakfast and I have some free time.

During my free-time I planned on reading, writing and sending letters to friends. But I never do that. Instead I sit and watch. I dangle my feet over the sides of my patio, and I watch the elephants for hours. I watch them fight and flip their trunks to shew each other away.  I watch them steel the other’s food. I watch them, kiss, feed each other and inspect one another with their trunks. I watch them act like brothers and comrades as they soothe each other from the PTSD with which they all struggle.

“Excuse me one minute, but if you don’t like those, well I happen to love them.”  

LUNCH:  We feed and water the elephants again and then I organize the new shipment of corn, stalks and other tree branches that the elephants love. Usually I have a terribly ugly dog by my side that is so old and blind it hides from the other dogs by staying close to people. Not stepping on him is my biggest accomplishment, his name is Sinto, it means troublesome.

We repeat this all day long and in between I sit and watch the elephants more, as they do the same to me. One of the problems with feeding these big brutes is that they blame me if the shipment of food has not arrived yet. Consequently, they throw old stalks of food at me. All the workers laugh as it’s a compliment that no one wants.

All day long, I am eaten alive by bugs, fighting chickens and dogs for elephant leaves, outrunning dangerous hornets and dragon flies, all in the name of pursuing this fascination I have with finding out, “How can I show an elephant love?”

Literal water baby

DINNER: The owners and I have become great friends. We eat under the stars at the outdoor dining table, which is a large square piece of plywood on the ground. We laugh and discuss animal politics and ways to improve the lives of the elephants. We drink elephant poop lattes and then clean up dinner in a trash bin full of water used as a kitchen sink. It’s one of the most comfortable living environments in which I’ve lived. Then I’m off to clean the day stalls as Prat San has taken the elephants out to pasture. It’s the hardest work at the Temple. About 2-3 hours of drenched sweat while I single-handedly sweep, shovel and dump poop out of the stalls. It’s quiet, dark and a tad lonely.

BED TIME: At 9pm, I am beat. I am dirty and tired and still sweating from emptying the stalls of old food and dung the size of melons.  I can’t wait to hold my little pot and poor the pipe-temperature water over my head, three times. I love the feeling of lathering with soap and watching the yellow stains on my feet disappear. I pour the water over my head several more times until the dirt is gone and I feel cool, for the first and last time of the day. Then while doing all of this in the dark (because light attracts HUGE beetles that fly into the walls of my room until they are all dead on the floor), I turn on the fan, get into my mosquito net and crawl into my mat on the tile.  I look at the 2-inch gap under my door and pray the cats, dogs and people eat the snakes before they make their way into my room. I put my ear plugs in and I tell my body that I need to rest, no matter how many of my bones are sticking into the hard surface, I have a big day tomorrow, more “same same.”

I still know very little about elephants, and I can do even less for them. But every day I wake up in service of the actual mahout. If I make his job easier (which I do) then he has time to love them, and help their mental status while I meet their basic needs.

I respect elephants; I enjoy them, I fear them and I should. They were born to squash me effortlessly, the way I can accidentally break a kitten’s back by stepping on it. The way a kitten can kill a frog just by playing with it (That’s a nightly show, I don’t even interfere anymore).  

How do I show an elephant love? I clean up its poop, throw it some branches, and hope that these elephants will be the last ones in captivity.

Using the leaves to scratch those hard to reach places. 

[functionalrustic]

The Muscovy Ducks of Functional Rustic have a new enclosure for the winter. Everyone is very excited.

Last year I only had a handful of ducks so one barn stall was sufficient to house them. This year though, I have 12 large ducks to care for. I could eat some of them and keep the smaller stall, but I’ve had a lot of animal deaths this year and am not keen on adding to the list.

(Did you know that Muscovy Ducks taste more like beef than typical a water fowl? Muscovy ducks spend most of their time on land eating grass – same as cows. Although Muscovy do have water proofing oils, because they do not spend as much time in the water as other water birds they produce less oil and therefor taste differently.)

My chief complaint with the duck set up in the barn last year was the lack of proper lighting. There is a small window in the stall and a light bulb but, with the barn closed up it is very dark in the barn during the winter months. In order to keep the barn some what insulted in the cold Michigan winters I covered all of the openings with roofing paper last year. (I only used the roofing paper because I found a roll of it in the barn when we moved in. It was free and available so I made it work.) The roofing paper is black though, and blocked all of the sun light into the barn.

This year I wanted to make sure that if the ducks could not or did not want to go out in the snow they would still have lots of natural light. Added bonus, natural light in the stall means duck pictures and videos turn out better! To achieve this increased light while still keeping the barn insulated I chose to wrap the entire back of the barn with 6 mil plastic sheeting.

The back of the Functional Rustic barn is a covered area with the south and east walls open to the outdoors. I hung the 6 mil plastic across all of the openings and secured it to the walls/ground with a carpentry stapler. I chose 6 mil plastic sheets because I wanted a plastic that was durable enough to endure Michigan weather but not too heavy to hang with staples. The 6 mil plastic sheeting works perfectly. Plus, it’s clear so the sunlight pours into the enclosure.

It is my hope that the clear plastic will provide some solar heating. The idea is that the warm sun rays will come into the barn and the plastic will keep the heat inside. I don’t expect it to be warm in the winter – but if I can keep the stall above freezing I would be thrilled.

Duck Enclosure Flooring

One of the new stalls off the back has rubber mat flooring that I added straw to while the other stall off the back of the barn has only a dirt floor. Last year I used the dirt floor of the duck stall to make compost. It worked splendidly. The poop was controlled, no bad smells and the floor actually gave off some heat.

The original duck floor consisted of dirt, straw, leaves and landscaping scraps. I added new layers as needed and mixed everything together to turn it into a compost floor. The ducks helped keep it mixed up by digging around in the floor for bugs. My pile of composting material on the floor started at about six inches deep. Over the past year of adding layers and housing ducks, the floor is a beautiful, rich compost nearly one foot deep. I plan to use my duck compost in the spring to plant the Functional Rustic orchard.

The plan with this year’s new dirt stall was to repeat what I did last year in the original duck stall. That was the plan. Ha. Michigan weather decided I needed a different approach this year. Functional Rustic is lucky to have acres of fallen leaves to collect and add to the compost pile. The kicker though, is the leaves need to be dry for me to use them.

Well, Michigan has seen a fair amount of rain and now snow. I never collected the dry leaves. That’s a big problem for my compost floor. The snowfall over the weekend melted yesterday so the plan today was to rake up the leaves and store them in a dry place until they could be used.

Two inches of snow last night. Ugh. It looks beautiful and the ducks are adorable running through it – but the snow officially ends the search for leaves. So, today I started digging up the original compost floor. You see, the ducks have three stalls they can explore now. The rubber mat area, the new dirt area and the original duck stall. Since adding the plastic though, I have yet to see the ducks spend time in the original stall beyond using it to get outdoors.

Well, if they wont be spending much time in the old stall – I don’t need that floor to be heated by compost. So, today I started digging up the original stall and moving the compost to the new plastic enclosed dirt area off the back of the barn. It is not as visually pleasing as fresh straw, but the coverage it provides is impressive. Plus, the floor I dug up is full of bugs that the ducks are having a grand old time hunting down. I continue to add layers of straw each day to promote more composting, keep the ducks feet dry and warm and to control the poop smells.

Duck Enclosure Walls

Initially hanging the plastic only took 30 minutes. However, the next few weeks involved lots of small fixes to make it just right. First of all, Muscovy Ducks have claws. When the plastic was first installed the ducks did not know what to make of it and tried flying through it. Ha. Amusing as it was to watch – they understandably freaked out when they hit the plastic and scratched at it with their claws. Needless to say, there are more than a few gashes repaired with duct tape.

The ducks aren’t the only ones flying into the plastic. There are a couple families of barn swallows living in there too. Despite the plastic being up for a few weeks now, the little sparrows continue to fly full speed into the plastic. It was funny at first but now I just feel bad for them. Someone is going to get hurt. I will say though, it is adorable to see 6 huge ducks on a wall with a family of tiny barn swallows perched beside them.

Fixing cuts in the plastic from sharp duck claws was the least of my problems. Wind was the bigger issue. The day we hung the plastic there was only a slight wind so everything seemed secure. Less than 24 hours later the wind was up to 40 mph gusts. Whole walls of plastic were falling off. Ugh.

When we (my husband and I) originally hung the plastic we placed the staples about 12 to 18 inches apart. Although the plastic was flat against the wall when it was stapled, the large gaps between the staples allowed wind to come in and blow the plastic around.

The bottom of the plastic sheeting was held down by stones and pavers. One big wind and the plastic slid out from underneath the stones as if they were pebbles. I found heavier items to hold down the bottom of the plastic, but since I still had the gaps in my stapling, wind was still coming in and causing the wind to whip around inside the stall – again causing the bottom to slide out and blow around.

On another particularly windy day, I went out to the barn and examined where the wind was coming in. That is when I learned that my staples were to far apart. I immediately got the stapler and started stapling everything I could reach. That plastic was secure!! Having secured the plastic to the top and sides of the openings I thought I was all set.

Nope.

The plastic may be securely attached at the top, but the bottom is still loose. The stones and pavers are ok if the wind stays below 30 mph, but it’s Michigan, so that’s not going to happen. Again, I spent an hour just sitting in the duck stall trying to learn how the wind was moving around within the barn.

As it happens, the wind is not actually getting into the barn. Apparently the plastic, although securely attached, is loose instead of taut so even if the staples hold strong, the plastic flaps back and forth. The flapping is what causes the stones to slide off the sheeting.

No amount of staples and stones was going to do the trick. The openings I am covering are over 12 ft x 12 ft. I need some sort of support in the middle to provide stability to the plastic. As it happens, I have a bunch of wire around the barn. The fencing around their enclosure came bound together with long pieces metal wire. I stretched that wire across the opening and duct taped it to the plastic on both sides.

Shockingly, it worked. Now that the plastic had the stiff wire in the middle I was able to get it to lay flush against the flat surfaces so it can be attached. Now the sheeting was able to pulled taut. Before stabilizing the plastic, even a small breeze caused the plastic move in or out. Stapling the plastic while it is blowing makes the final product flappy.

No longer trusting the stones and pavers, I replace them with a wooden pallets. The pallets are heavier than the stones AND I can staple the plastic directly to it. Now the plastic is weighed down by the pallet while also being attached to it. Now when the wind blows the plastic barely moves at all.

It has been about week since I made the last repairs and I am proud to report that despite, strong winds, heavy rains and two snow falls – the enclosure is still in great shape. Also, the inside of the barn has remained consistently warmer than the outside. I am quite proud of what I accomplished.

Winter Duck Feeding Routine

Another new change is how I feed the feather babies. Normally I pour their feed into a feeder and let them gorge. Since I secured the plastic walls though, the ducks don’t seem to want to leave. Staying in the barn all day means they are not exercising as much. To help keep them active I now distribute the food everywhere and make them hunt for it.

Spreading the food out forces the ducks to move around, keeps them from standing and pooping all day in the same spot and helps the compost floor to be turned regularly. Another benefit of spreading the food out is that everyone gets to eat at the same time. There is most definitely a pecking order in my barn. With one feeder, breakfast becomes a time for ducks to get bullied. I don’t like seeing the bigger ducks be mean to Larry and the smaller lady ducks. I know that this behavior is natural and healthy for ducks, but if I can prevent it from happening I will.

I am pleased to report that since implementing this new approach Larry is looking much better as well. He was looking rough before – dirty, missing feathers and a generally an unkempt appearance. He’s a white duck that was coated brown with dirt. Poor guy looked miserable. Now, Larry is looking happy, bright and clean. He still gets picked on and chased around, but at least he has mouthfuls of food available wherever they chase him. (Interesting side note, Larry’s only son, Prodigy, is the duck that harasses him the most.)

In any case, the new enclosure has made for some happy feather babies and one very happy feather baby mama. Check out the videos below to see how the build enclosure progressed and how much the ducks love playing in it.

Written by: Sarah Palmer – Owner, Functional Rustic

Did you know Functional Rustic offers more than just stories about the Muscovy Ducks? Support local business and save money with handmade décor from the Functional Rustic Store. Below are some examples of what you can expect to find.

  “Bark Spoken Here” Wooden Ornament

"Bark Spoken Here" Wooden Ornament by Functional Rustic is handcrafted from repurposed pallet wood and hand painted with oil paint. Twine is used to hang the ornament. Free Shipping.

$10.00

  3 Tier Wooden Tea Light Holder – Red

3 Tier Wooden Tea Light Holder from Functional Rustic adds a rustic elegance to any space. The 3 Tier Tea Light Candle Holder is made from repurposed pallet wood and hand painted. Free Shipping.

$15.00

Learn how Functional Rustic keeps the Muscovy Ducks warm & safe in the winter months. The Muscovy Ducks of Functional Rustic have a new enclosure for the winter. Everyone is very excited.

#Animals #barn #Barn Animals #Barn Story #design #Do It Yourself #Duck #Duck Enclosure #Duck House #Ducklings #Ducks #Farm #Functional Rustic #functionalrustic #Homesteading #Informational #Instructional #Muscovy Duck #Muscovy Duck Care #Muscovy Duckling #pets #Winter #Winter Duck Enclosure

[travelinglifeshighways]

Pebble Beach, 17 mile drive, Bixby Bridge, and McWay Falls Big Sur, California

Pebble Beach, 17 mile drive, Bixby Bridge, and McWay Falls

Big Sur, California

Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Clear, 80°

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.” ~Andre Gide

** Note – I have had a pretty good sinus infection for the last several weeks.  It has kicked me to the ground so between that and limited or no internet I am, once again, several weeks behind in my writing.  I will catch up when I can but the journey continues, just at a slightly slower pace until I am feeling better.

 The fog was still lingering around the coast in the early morning hours as the wisps of low lying clouds floated through the campground.  It would be a shame not to enjoy this beautiful setting, even in the fog, so we took a walk along the sand dunes and then the beach before heading out and up the coast.  There were a few people out walking their dogs and others just walking looking for shells and sand dollars that had washed up along the shore.  The waves, lightly crashing onto the beachfront, uncovered the fragments of shells, sand dollars and long pieces of kelp that had been deposited on the beach.

There was a group of school kids who was being taught how to paddle board at the base of Morro Rock.  They appeared restless, moving around while the instructor was trying to tell them how to paddle out and then stand on the board.  Rather than sitting there being lectured about how to do it, almost all of them seemed anxious to get in the water.

The walk was nice.  There were several types of seabirds in the shallow pools left by the receding tide.  Several groups of pelicans, formation flying back and forth along the beach would get close to the rocks then turn to fly back out along the waters’ edge. Some would head to deeper water where they would fly several feet above the water until they spotted a fish then climb rapidly to about thirty feet off the water and dive straight down to catch their prey.  It was enjoyable to watch nature take its course.  I guess that might not be how the little fish saw it but from shore it was pretty interesting to see how the pelicans worked for their food.

When we got on the road later that morning, it started out foggy with low hanging clouds still covering Morro Rock.  However, the fog quickly dissipated as we drove inland to Highway 101.  We had to detour off the Pacific Coastal Highway (Hwy 1) due to a massive mudslide, back in May 2017, which took out a bridge.  Those living along Big Sur were cut off from civilization after more than 1 million tons of rock and dirt cascaded down a slope in a landslide the likes of which local officials said they had never seen before.  The slide buried about a quarter mile of the highway in dirt up to 40 feet deep.  The road, also known as State Route 1, is about 70 miles south of Monterey.  It has had about a 12 mile section from Ragged Point to Gorda closed since last year.  The California DOT has been constructing a new bridge that is expected to open later this summer.

Yesterday, we took a drive to just below the south closure point to see the elephant seals.  Today, we are making our way to the northern side of the closure and will drive back south to see the sights along the Big Sur section of Hwy 1.

Driving up Highway 101 was an agricultural delight finding many fields growing grapes, fruit trees, and berries.  There were fields of vegetables: lettuce, cabbage, artichokes, and others that we could not identify.  It was a busy area with some fields being harvested, others being planted, and ongoing work to maintain other fields not quite ready for harvest.  It appeared that more labor was needed to harvest crops but those who were working were doing a great job.

The detour brought us to Monterey by the Laguna Seca Racetrack (Indy car racetrack) where we continued the drive out to Pebble Beach for the 17 mile drive along the beach, golf courses, and the scenic viewpoints along the way.  The cost was $10.25 to drive the rocky shores around the golf courses.  The crashing waves made a spectacular backdrop along the Pacific Ocean for those playing golf or walking along the beach. 

Golf Course View

It is a beautiful scenic drive for ten dollars and worth every penny to see the incredible homes, vistas, and viewpoints along the way.

One of the most scenic drives on the Monterey Peninsula, and quite possibly the world, is found behind the prestigious gates of Pebble Beach.  The famous 17-Mile Drive is a visually stunning stretch of roadway which hugs the pacific coastline from Pacific Grove to Pebble Beach and features awe-inspiring sights along the way. The drive allows you plenty of time to cover the entire stretch of road to fully immerse yourself in the wonders of this seaside gem.  

Pebble Beach

There are many pull offs and parking areas to enjoy these iconic landmarks (and photo opportunities) which include The Lone Cypress, Spanish Bay, Stillwater Cove, the Del Monte Forest, and the world-renowned Pebble Beach Golf Links.  You are likely to see a variety of wildlife ranging from grazing deer on the golf course to barking sea lions near Bird Rock.

After entering the gates of Pebble Beach, the drive takes you by Spanish Bay golf course and to the parking areas along Pebble Beach.  The beach is aptly named as the white sandy beach is covered in fist sized pebbles with larger stones closer to the walkways and roads that wind along the shore.

Across from the Spy Glass Golf Course, where we parked, you could see deer coming out of the tall grass onto the fairway.  The beautiful setting is both calm, with the lush vegetation along the course, and invigorating as the Pacific Ocean’s waves crash onto the many rocks along the water’s edge.

Rocky Coast Line

With all the rocks along the beach it was easy for Cairn Stones to be stacked and balanced. 

Pebble Beach Cairn Stones

There were several stacks along the beachfront, some close to the road while others were closer to the beach area. 

Cairn Stones

A bus filled with Japanese people offloaded next to the motorhome and began taking pictures of anything and everything imaginable along the beach.  They took photos of each other, the greens on the golf course, and the rocks just off the beach in the ocean.  They were amazed that some rocks were covered “white” in bird poop.  They scurried back on the bus and we saw them stop after stop; it was sort of a comical leap frog from viewpoint to viewpoint watching them with their cameras.

The road winds its way around the golf courses and past the very expensive houses dotting the hillsides.  There was a mixture homes. The older homes, which were simplistic but elegant, were mixed in with the extravagant mansions and it appeared that some of the owners had more money than brains with what they had built or were building.  The styles of architecture varied from the simple Mediterranean styles and Spanish fortresses to ultra-modern homes.  There was a lot of construction going on and several houses were still under construction since my last drive through two years ago. 

As you climb in elevation along the cliff, winding around the jagged shoreline, you come into an area where there are older houses - both Cliff side and on the interior side of the road.  These houses were probably built, between the 50s and 70s, during a time when things were not as extravagant.  Construction was completed so the main house, guest houses, and parking areas or pools blended in with the beautiful twisted cypress trees.  It was not long before you came across the famous Lone Cypress Tree, clinging to the solitary rock where it rests. 

The Lone Cypress Tree

This tree has endured all types of weather; wind-blown monsoons, driving rain & fog, and other natural events yet still remains perched on the tiny rock outcropping.  

The rest of the drive takes you around the golf clubhouse, spa area, places to eat and shop as you enjoy this beautiful setting.  The road continues around past more houses and condo complexes before leading you to another entrance gate close to the west side of the compound out to Hwy 1.

Leaving Pebble Beach, it was an easy connection to drive south on Hwy 1 to Big Sur where we saw many dramatic cliffs along the highway.  We made stops at Bixby Bridge and further down the road at McWay Falls, both great places for beautiful photos.  The road construction and bridge work was just past the falls so it was necessary to turn around and drive back north along the coastal highway.

As you drive south on US1, past Carmel by the Sea, the road starts its climb and winds through the curves gaining elevation over the ocean.  The jagged rocks along the coast and the waves crashing into them are reminiscent of those “Kodak” moments from long ago. 

Rocky Coast

Once you are about two thousand feet above the ocean, you can see the Bixby Bridge in the distance.  Its curved arch underneath is part of its superstructure and clings to each side of the mountain’s walls as the river flows into the ocean far below.  Parking is very limited along the crest and even less if you turn off the little side road so it was lucky that there was room for the motorhome.  I pulled into a regular parking spot with the front wheels as far forward as I could go without going over the cliff and hoped the back end of the RV would be off the highway.  There was about a foot between me and the white line on the road so it was safe to make this stop for photos. 

Bixby Bridge from Cliff

I took the normal pictures from the cliff overlooking the bridge and ocean but also wanted to hike up the small road across the street to get photos of the bridge with the ocean behind it.  It did not disappoint as the angle and the composition in the photos are different from the ones on the cliff.

Bixby Bridge toward Pacific Ocean

Continuing the drive south in Big Sur, curve after curve, beautiful vista after vista, you arrive at my favorite place along the coastal drive, McWay Falls.  It is located in the Julia Pfeiffer State Park and is such a pleasure to see.  There are trails leading from the park through a tunnel under the highway to the trail alongside the highway where a short walk brings you to the vantage point to see the beautiful waterfall cascading into the Pacific Ocean.

McWay Falls

The beach along this cove is protected by large rocks that the surf pounds against, creating spectacular splashes of water in the air.  It has a very calm atmosphere as everyone talks in hushed tones with the occasional “beautiful” or “oh, my” heard among those gathered to see this beautiful place.

McWay Falls Panorama

By then, the sun was setting as we drove into Monterey Pines RV Park which is located on a naval military installation.  It had a beautiful golf course, little bar and breakfast facility.  It was a nice place to stop along the way before arriving at my youngest daughter’s house.

#Pebble Beach #McWay Falls #17 Mile Drive #California #Interesting places #Interesting things #Beautiful Places #Beauty #RV'ing #Road Trip #Travel #Traveling Life's Highways #Big Sur

[houseinvictus]

Garden Log 2017, part the first

Last year I used my personal Tumblr for logging my progress. This year, we have a new home for our urban farming adventure! It’s long, and posted here for posterity.

Fish & Farm

My grandfather kept these journals about his outdoor activities. He called them “Fish & Farm”, which I doubt requires much explanation. Even though I’ve never been much for fishing, I call my lawn and garden journal Fish & Farm too. But it got thrown into a box when we were cleaning for company, and I don’t know which box. So since I’m not really using this much, I’m just going to keep a record of my activities here until I can transcribe them into the book.

8 April 2017

The sidewalk plow wrecked the garden boxes. Just shredded the wood. Need to move the front gardens back about 8" or so and fill with brick or concrete. Lavender looks like it’ll bounce back, and we’ll add more this year. If last year’s Landini lilies don’t come up, I might try a couple of rosebushes.

Cleared debris from out back today. Planning another dump run with Ryan soonish. Still need to rake up about three bags’ worth of pine needles and leaf litter, but at least leaf bag collection is unlimited.

Planted my first round of herbs. Four Jiffy pods each of rosemary, oregano, basil, chives, and dill. I had a packet of parsley seeds, but it seems to have disappeared. I also need to get some cilantro, sage, and some sort of mint started. Planning for a mason-jar herb garden in the back porch, two steps from the kitchen. If everything sprouts and grows, we’re going to set up the Wives with a set of plants, too. Maybe even strawberries.

9 April 2017

I went out back with three leaf bags and a rake this morning. I got the organics about halfway bagged. Really glad I have a bunch more bags, ‘cause I’d estimate at least two more to do the job if I’m lucky.

We need a new bird feeder. Water got in. A lot of it. Yuck.

Got the evergreen fertilizer sticks punched into the ground between the cedars. They’re still tiny and pathetic, but they made it through the winter.

Moved the picnic table out from the house and the planter-platform to where we’re going to build the permanent veggie bed. There may even be room for a second veggie bed before too long – that is, there’s room, but we won’t be able to build it right away because lumber is expensive.

Sweet woodruff and dianthus are hung out front where they belong. Not sure what to do about the third pot, which gets drowned by the break in the eavestrough we just haven’t yet been able to fix. Strawberries need dead bits pruned, then can go back outside.

K has suggested growing our leafy greens in planters around the perimeter of the back “yard”. We’re also going to get some people to test-park so we can work out where we can plant some grass back there.

Thinking about red roses behind the lavender out front if the lilies fail. Possibly even if they don’t.

10 April 2017

I planted peas today. Eight Jiffy pods. They’re in the foyer window with the herb pods.

That is literally the only garden related thing I did today. It thunderstormed overnight, so everything’s been soaked all day.

14 April 2017

K and I looked over our materials and did a general redesign of the garden boxes. Home Depot’s rough cuts on the 1x12" planks were extremely rough, so our new strategy is to cut them all to 42" length. First of the two veggie boxes is built. Second one will have to wait until they restock the rough pine planks, ‘cause I cleaned them out.

Grackles and nuthatches really seem to like the new bird feeder.

16 April 2017

Staked out the positions of the various garden boxes in relation to the property line. Way too wet out to justify doing much else.

Planted the last four herbs just now: parsley, mint, sage, and cilantro. Noticed the rosemary hasn’t done anything yet, but the dill, chives, oregano, and basil have sprouted. Also, the peas I planted are starting to do their thing. Checked the soil in the round planters; since it’s nice and damp, they don’t need to go outside yet. While I was in the porch, I also trimmed back the dead bits from the strawberries and set out mason jars for the herbs to go into later. Have to get some soil into them soon.

19 April 2017

Filled the first set of herb jars with soil today. Also, planted three varieties of lettuce (buttercrunch, Parris Island, and Grand Rapids), Swiss chard (Bright Lights), and kale. Twelve cells each. Good Maude.

20 April 2017

Dollarama has the worst seed selection this year. Planted twelve cells of cucumber and filled the second set of herb jars.

Of my two new garden boxes, one of which is built and ready to put in place, one will be filled with bigass beefsteak tomatoes with peas at the centre (still contemplating adding another veggie), and the other will be a Three Sisters box (corn, beans, and squash – in this case, zucchini). Just gotta get those suckers built and filled!

21 April 2017

Spent a couple of hours working on the veggie planter. Dug the anchor holes, set it in, and started filling it from the front garden bed, where we plan to grow blueberries.

23 April 2017

The first veggie box is now just about half full of old dirt, gravel, and assorted yard organics. It’s ready to be topped up with fresh soil. Now I just need to get my hands on a lot of fresh soil. :)

24 April 2017

Holy crapspackle, what a day. I dumped 140L of soil (all I had) into the tomato box, and need about the same again to top it up. I pulled the frame from the 8’ front bed, but failed to extract the screws, which are stripped or stuck or both. Then I sat down on the sidewalk (howdy, neighbours!) and pulled the rest of the gravel from the 18’ bed, then bagged up the dead lavender from last year. Oh, and a bird pooped on me in hunger protest or something, so I refilled the feeder.

29 April 2017

So after being sidelined by the plague for a few days, I finished filling the tomato box today. It took another 180L, which brings us to a grand total of 320 L to fill basically the top half of the box. I also took off the needly bits of the fallen pine branch out back.

3 May 2017

The second box is built. That is all.

4 May 2017

Sunk posts and started filling the Three Sisters box base with old dirt and organic matter. Got about 1/3 finished. Digging makes me tired.

5 May 2017

Dragged out the lawn edging today. It is REALLY hard to straighten it when it’s been coiled for basically ever. Dug, edged, and filled the nasturtium beds and blueberry bed, except for one more piece I still need to cut. Killed two birds with one stone by getting fresh dirt for the nasturtiums from the 18’ bed, since it’s above grade.and the dirt we added last year didn’t do any actual work. But in other parts of that bed, the lilies are coming up! They’ll make nice placeholders while we acquire the blueberry bushes for that bed.

Also, I filled the bird feeder. Little winged piggies.

10 May 2017

The Three Sisters box is filling at a pretty good rate, now that I’m using the wheelbarrow to move dirt from the front of the 28’ garden to the box. I’ve got it nearly, if not all of, 2/3 full, and I still have some more digging to do. I should be able to get it to ¾ full before I have to buy more fresh soil.

I have sproutlings! My kale and chard are coming up beautifully, and the lettuces aren’t far behind. A little bit of zucchini and kohlrabi action is underway. One little cucumber shoot! The corn I planted is doing precisely nothing, but that’s why I bought more, so I can replant once I get the box filled and ready.

I gave the peas some diluted coffee. Can’t hurt!

12 May 2017

I had a busy day. Filled the second box to the top, put in my tomato plants, levelled the front strip, saturated it, and laid down a thick covering of grass seed (then layered fresher dirt on top). Then I prepped the 18’ front strip for grassing (well, I’m almost finished), put a couple of whimsical pinwheels into the veggie boxes, and marked out where things will go in the front bed.

13 May 2017

It is GORGEOUS out. This morning, we got the hose up and running, then went outside, soaked the crap out of the boxes and the 8’ front bed, transplanted the hosta and blueberries (note to self: east Chippewa, west Northland), and put greenhouse domes over the blueberries. We also cleaned up the yard for reseeding, planted more peas, planted corn, and stripped the dead foliage off the hanging pot of woodruff.

14 May 2017

Today, we cut enough extraneous branches from the trees at the southwest corner of the house that I’ll no longer be disturbed by knocking at my bathroom window in the middle of the night. Then we swung around to the east side of the house and got really crazy. With a combination of my new pole saw (😍), K’s recip saw, and my hand pruners, we tidied up and/or eliminated the trees between our house and our neighbour Dan, who was out hanging with us for a while. There were a couple of maples WAY too close to the foundation, so those have been eliminated.

15 May 2017

Today I bought and transplanted a jalapeño plant. His name is Juan, as in “they had lots of plants, but I only wanted Juan.”

I also planted the first of my nasturtiums, in the strip between the two planter boxes. Packet says 7-21 days for them to sprout, so we’ll have plenty of time to attach the lattice before they need to start climbing. Perhaps sometime this week I’ll fill the strip between the Three Sisters box and the blueberry hedge and plant a row there, too.

Big weekend!

20 May 2017

Weeekend! We got up and went outside to get some work done. We put up the lattice fence against the west side of the veggie boxes. It really ties the whole area together, both physically and metaphorically. I filled and planted the nasturtium trench, and we watered everything. K seeded the east front lawn and watered it in. Also, because our birds are little piggies, we refilled both feeders.

21 May 2017

Rain. And then more rain. But we did get to Home Depot to pick up zucchini, a jalapeño, and a ew bags of mulch. Yay sale! I put in the plants, and they look pretty cheerful. 22 May 2017 It took two bags of mulch to do the blueberry patch, meaning we have two left. Then it was transplant time! I now have three pots of kale ready to go out back, my parsley and rosemary are now in their jars, and I have a loaf tin of leftover herbs to give away (chives, cilantro, and dill). Also, two more of my mint pods finally sprouted, so when they’ve grown a little more, I can transplant those, too.

25 May 2017

I can’t quite believe phase one of the front yard is done. It doesn’t feel real, but it sure does look good.

In phase F1, we built, filled, and planted the two veggie boxes, attached a lattice fence, planted nasturtiums to climbit, added some potted plants, planted a 12" wide strip of grass as sidewalk plow insurance, planted two blueberry bushes, and laid down mulch around them.

In phase F2, we’re planting a matching 12" grass strip, bringing the 18’ garden bed down to grade, reseeding the grass on the main lawn (first seeding complete), and possibly starting to replace stands of lilies with blueberry bushes, as our budget permits.

Phase F3 is the replacement of the somewhat wobbly front steps and the construction of a garden box around the lilac tree. K wants to put in some grapevines. Also, painting the damned porch. WHY brick red and grey? We hate the colours, and plan to go to white and green.

Phase E1’ on the east side of the house, is kind of a mini-phase that’s just about done. We took down the two maples that were menacing the house by being too close, and trimmed back the one that’s on the property line we share with Dan.

Phase R1 is very straightforward: leafy greens in planters, times about a gazillion. So far, only the kale is transplanted and in place.

Phase R2 will involve measuring out a space for the driveway, putting in some edging, and planting grass on the rest. Then a load of gravel should finish it up.

Phase W1 is our lowest priority: the strip of yard between us and the corner house is just mossy. Some other ground cover seems called for. It doesn’t have to be grass, it just has to contribute to soil retention.

So F1 and E1 are done, and F2 and R1 are in progress. Pretty impressive, given our circumstances.

In ongoing garden work news, I’ve transplanted the Swiss chard, and after it rides out a little transplant fatigue, it’ll go out front.

27 May 2017

Ugh. Well, there’s an arduous, annoying task out of the way. There was WAY too much gravel in the bottom of last year’s tomato pots (this year’s lettuce). I reclaimed a 27" windowbox full of gravel while still leaving plenty of gravel for drainage. And then I filled four planters from the 18’ garden. We still have a ton of reasonably fresh soil we can reclaim before getting the garden down below grade for mulching. Whether I have enough planters, on the other hand, is a whole other question.

Have you ever been glared at and scolded by a teensy little bird? They’ve figured out I’m the sucker who fills the bird feeder. Last fill was a week ago. Anyone who uses the phrase “eats like a bird” has never seen how those little bastards can put it away! Also, I really need to get more seed. I have less than a feeder-fill left, and I didn’t check the backyard feeder on my way to the garage. The kale, however, is really happy outside!

I got the mower out and the first pass done, and I took my sad little chardlings outside to get some sun and fresh air and whatnot. Looking forward to the grass growing in, ‘cause I pretty much just beheaded the dandelions and forget-me-nots.

29 May 2017

I now have a large pot each of Parris Island Romaine (rooted really, really poorly, but it’s in), Buttercrunch lettuce (rooted beautifully), and Grand Rapids leaf lettuce (most sprouts came up, but not impressively rooted). We’ll see how the remaining sprouts do before I xplant any more.

K pulled out the whippersnipper and tidied things up. I need to rake the snippy bits off the nasturtium bed, but I’m kinda tired. Oh! And since yesterday, our corn sprout count is up to five! The one we saw yesterday must have put on a whole cm overnight.

30 May 2017

My cucumber sproutlings are finally growing! Yay!

Reseeded and watered-in more grass JUST before the rain started, ‘cause that’s how I roll, apparently.