#broke out an energy drink to nurse for the next dozen hours to keep me operational at least

[mossy-covered-bones]

Oh i am gonna Suffer today

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 5: COMING TO CAMP

I woke up feeling sore all over, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. A short-cropped blonde haired guy hovered over me, looking down at me. When he saw my eyes open, he asked, "How are you feeling?" I managed to croak, "What?" "Are you feeling better?" "I guess," I mumbled, "I don't... where's Percy?" Somebody knocked on the door, and the guy slowly set the pudding down. "I'll see you when you're better." He smiled. The next time I woke up, the guy was gone.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry. My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it. "You're awake," a voice said. A blonde girl was leaning against the porch railing, looking tired and done. She was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMPHALF-BLOOD. "I should call the others," she said. "Where's Percy?" "He's talking with Mr. D." "Is he well?" "You've been through worse," She said with her eyebrows knitted(?). "And the first thing you ask is your friend?" "Percy, should—" "I'll tell the others." She looked at me one last time and left. I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight. Without Percy's presence I was reminded of everything I lost. Everyone I care about. "Hey," A voice behind me called. "Annabeth passed by and told me you're awake. Feeling better?" "Oh, hey." I smiled weakly. "Feelin real peachy." "Luke, Luke Castellan." "Y/N L/N..." We stayed quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry for what happened. I don't exactly know what went on but..." Looking at him, I gave him a sad smile, "Thanks... I guess. Even I'm not sure what went on honestly... I don't know what's going on." "Well, I'm not exactly much of an explainer so, we just gotta wait for Chiron." "I... remember everything. From the moment the sea pulled me, to loosing my parents and dog, to bringing us here... I just... don't understand..." I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming. "Don't strain yourself," Luke said. "Here." He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips. I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was (Favorite Food or F/F). Liquid F/F. And not just any F/F—my mom and dad's special F/F. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom and dad had just pet my head, fed me F/F the way they used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay. Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted. "Was it good?" Luke asked. I nodded. "Are you feeling better now? "Yeah," I said. "Thanks." "That's good," he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff." "What do you mean?" He took the empty glass from me, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Y/N!" I turned to the voice and saw Grover. "Hey, Luke." "I'll take it they want her?" Grover nodded. "I'll see you later." Luke smiled and ruffled my hair, then left me with Grover. Grover watched Luke leave then turned to me, "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting." The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. I asked him where Percy was and he said he was already there. As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath. We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. "Y/N!!" I was engulfed and tackled which almost made me fall. Percy looked at me with sad eyes, holding unto the Minotaur horn. He looked tired and sick. "Are you okay Percy?" He nodded and rested his head on my shoulder. Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl that I woke up to was leaning on the porch rail next to them. The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels— what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt. "Hate to break your touching reunion but we were talking." The man said. "That's Mr. D," Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..." He pointed at the guy whose back was to me. First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard. "Mr. Brunner!" I cried. The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. "Ah, good, Y/N," he said. "You're awake. Percy couldn't focus since he was worried of you. He woke up an hour before you. Care for a game of pinochle?" He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you." "Uh, thanks." I turned to Percy who looked at me confusedly as well. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blond girl. She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced us. "This young lady and Luke nursed you back to health, Y/N. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Y/N's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now." Annabeth said, "Sure, Chiron." She was probably my age, maybe same height, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she was almost exactly what I thought a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruined the image. They were startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight. She glanced at the minotaur horn in Percy's hands, then back at him. I felt a bit iffy and got closer to Percy. She turned to me and said, "You should thank Luke." Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her. "So," Percy said, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?". "Not Mr. Brunner," the ex—Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron." "Okay." Totally confused, I looked at the director. "And Mr. D ... does that stand for something?" Mr. D stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at me like I'd just belched loudly. "Young woman, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason." "Oh. Right. Sorry." "I must say, Percy, Y/N," Chiron-Brunner broke in, "I'm glad to see you both alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time. And I am quite surprise to recruit two." "House call?" "Recruit two?" "My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... ah, take a leave of absence. And when the mist hadn't worked on Y/N, Grover and I thought she saw through the mist." "Mist?" "It's... something." "You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asked. Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test. As for Y/N..." He looked at me skeptically then to Mr. D. "You're... still scentless." "Grover," Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?" "Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt. "You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously. "I'm afraid not," I said. "I'm afraid not, sir," he said. "Sir," I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less. "Well," he told me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules." "I'm sure the girl can learn," Chiron said. "The other kid was bad, I doubt this one can do better." "Please," Percy said pulling me closer to him, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?" Mr. D snorted. "I asked the same question." The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile. Chiron smiled at us sympathetically. "Percy," he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?' "She said... She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her." "And you?" He turned to me. "Nothing like this ever happened... Everything was normal." "Typical," Mr. D said. "That's how they usually get killed. Young lady, are you bidding or not?" "What?" I asked. He explained, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did. "I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient." "Orientation film?" Percy asked. "No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoe box—"that you and Y/N have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive." I stared at the others around the table. I waited for somebody to yell, Not! But all I got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points. "Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?" "Eh? Oh, all right." Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully. "Wait," I told Chiron. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God." "Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical." "Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—" "Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter." "Smaller?" "Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class." "Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them." And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day. "Young man," said Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you." "But they're stories," Percy said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science." "Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I felt Percy flinched when he was called—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me." I wasn't liking Mr. D much, but there was something about the way he called me mortal, as if... he wasn't. It was enough to put a lump in my throat, to suggest why Grover was dutifully minding his cards, chewing his soda can, and keeping his mouth shut. "Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?" "You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said. "Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you and Y/N a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their parents?" My heart pounded. He was trying to make us angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. Gripping on Percy I said, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods." "Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you." Grover said, "P-please, sir. She's just lost her family. She's in shock." "A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with kids who don't even believe.'" He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine. My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up. "Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions." Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise. "Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!" More thunder. Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game. Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits." "A wood nymph," I repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space. "Yes," Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha.' Absolutely unfair." Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid. "And ..." Percy stammered, "your father is ..." "Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course." I ran through D names from Greek mythology. Wine. The skin of a tiger. The satyrs that all seemed to work here. The way Grover cringed, as if Mr. D were his master. "You're Dionysus," I said. "The god of wine." Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say, these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?" "Y-yes, Mr. D." "Then, well, duh! Y/N L/N. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?" "You're a god." "Yes, child." "A god. You." He turned to look at me straight on, and I saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man was only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I saw visions of grape vines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turned to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I knew that if I pushed him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a strait-jacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life. "Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly. "No. No, sir." The fire died a little. He turned back to his card game. "I believe I win." "Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me." I thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too. "I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment." Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir." Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. And mind your manners." He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably. "Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron. Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been ... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus." "Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?" "Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do." "You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?" "Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West." "The what?" "Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods." "And then they died." "Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in RockefellerCenter, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here." It was all too much, especially the fact that I seemed to be included in Chiron's we, as if I were part of some club. "Who are you, Chiron? Who... who am I? I-Is Y/N?" Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down. "Who are you?" he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. I believe Y/N had met one of them, Luke Castellan. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate." And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.. I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk. "What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy Jackson, Y/N L/N. Let's meet the other campers." I took Percy's hand, anxious of what is coming.

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[frightfurtabby]

HimiKiyo Week Day 6: I Melt With You

// 2nd to last day, the theme is sickness and health. Emi told me about a headcanon about Kiyo having Marfan Syndrome a while ago so I used that for this. And to add another layer I’ve made a nod to a grey’s anatomy episode we watched on a date night. sadly i dont think thats enough for me to be able to tag that fandom tho smh//

Word Count: 1299

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34224124

Amino: (coming soon)

Korekiyo always had health problems in some way since they could remember. It wasn’t easy to live with but Sister had always had it worse. Of course she did, because her ailments were rarer and deadlier, as she frequently reminded them back in those days. It was all about her so without her things went south for several years. (More so than they had been)

Himiko also knew what it was like to lose somebody to something like that. It was one of the things that they bonded over in their early days knowing one another. It took a few conversations to fully open up about that. It took even longer then for Kiyo to confess there was a reason for their lanky appearance and spindly fingers: Marfan Syndrome.

A big catch was that their heart was bad. It could be fixed with surgery, but that and the medications were simply managing it and the dozens or so other symptoms. It, like many of the disorders Kiyo’s sister had while she was alive, was incurable.

Any surgery had risks, but the risks were better than risking the damage to the arteries getting any worse. It had finally come time for the procedure. There were indicators their heart would start to get worse.

Himiko was in the room when the doctor broke the news. In a cruel twist it was she that seemed to need the most comforting about the news. Kiyo kept her up on their lap and brushed fingers across her hand.

“I’m going to be fine, darling.” They told her before giving a peck on the cheek. “Recovery might take a while but when I’m all better, I’ll be better than ever before. Stronger.”

“You’ll really be okay honey?” She clung to them like a koala.

“Yes. I promise that.” A promise sealed with a kiss on her lips. That was the kind that should never be broken, so they knew they had to fight.

There were little conversations day to day about it. It was first caught extremely early as many genetic conditions were. It started with eye problems and scoliosis. A few more observations and tests and it was the answer. Plus, there was a family history with it due to one grandfather having had it.

Kiyo had a morbid sense of humor and one of the jokes was about how they were “Always in and out of the hospital, so why not have something interesting to stay longer. Make things a lot more convenient”

Himiko knew she had to stay in the hospital overnight tonight, so she put a call in to an old friend to house-sit and make sure to feed their kitty child, Ryo. It was the night before the big day.

“Thank you.” Kiyo said, propped up a bit on the pillows. They figured they may get some shut-eye soon. “I got a little sad, but then I thought about how happy he’ll be when his mommies come back home.” They smiled.

“I’ll be glad when this is all over.” she put her phone under the pillow on the visitors couch she was going to sleep on before walking over to hold their hand. “If the doctors mess anything up I’ll sue.” She wasn’t kidding, and hoped it didn’t come to that.

A smile crossed Kiyo’s face as they gently returned her little hand squeeze. “I know you would. I trust that I’ll be fine here.”

She leaned in and gave a kiss. “Is there anything you’d like before bed?”

Stroking their chin in thought, an answer came with a slight delay. “Well… how about a bedtime story? I’ve read those to you many times, so this can be a good opportunity for your turn.”

“Hehe, I thought you might say something like that. So I came up with one already earlier today.” she explained, “So, I hope you’ll enjoy hearing this tale.” It was a relaxing one with a relatively light conflict. Many talking animals inhabited a lush green landscape with the yellow sun shining on them above.

Some of the denizens of this land had assumed a Kitsune had stolen lost items from them when things went missing solely due to the creature’s reputation. After a bit of detective work, starting from a single odd feather out in the nearby farm’s chicken coop led to the discovery that there was a visit from a Tengu and that had been the true culprit.

Kiyo enjoyed laying back and listening instead of telling for once, eyes closed as they listened and visualized what was going on in the story. Following it all along, walking in the shoes of the characters. As time passed they got sleepier, her voice soothing any worry they had.

Happy little yawns popped up here and there. Kiyo expended only a small bit of energy to lean up and nuzzle into her hand as she ran soft, gentle hands along their cheek or through their hair.

“Mmm, I know I tell you this a lot but you really are cuter than you’re given credit for.”

“Am I?” they asked, briefly opening their eyes to look up with a flutter.

“Yes, especially when you’re all sleepy like this. You should rest up.”

The next day Kiyo woke up a little bit later than usual. It was still morning but the sun was approaching the peak it would have at midday. The curtains were open so that meant either one of the doctors or nurses or Himiko opened them.

Their wife was up and about, returning a moment later. “Oh, you’re awake! You were still resting when I got up. I brought you something.”

In her hands was a bottle of water and some toast with jam.

“It’s not very much but since it's today it has to be light.”

Kiyo nodded. “Well, it is breakfast in bed served by my beloved. I’d say that its enough~”

They took a drink first and then a few bites of their food. Himiko walked up for a hug when they’d finished eating.

“So, how do you want to spend the rest of the time before they take you in?”

“I’m not sure, there’s plenty to read or we could watch the television.”

“I’ll watch with you.” she said, pulling a seat up.

Kiyo flipped through the channels until something interesting came up and then put the remote on the bedside table. The couple held hands and tried to keep away the anxiety and worry for a few more hours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later the Doctor came in, asking if they were ready. To which Kiyo nodded.

They looked over to Himiko and gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll see you again soon honey. Don’t worry about me too much.”

She kissed them and Kiyo reached up around her shoulders to return the kiss.

She waved them goodbye for now, adding before her wife left “I’ll try, but I can’t help but worry at least a little.”

She occupied herself more or less successfully. At least she hadn’t freaked herself out badly. They came back in one piece, still under, just a few hours later. Hours that dragged on yet felt like nothing at all when she knew they were going to be okay.

Her huge grin never left her. Kiyo woke up and looked up so happily tears just about formed.

As the two hugged close, Kiyo said their first words since before the surgery. “Told you I’d be back, This wasn’t so bad now was it?”

“I guess not. I’ll always be here no matter what else you’ll need” Himiko knew there may be a need for further surgery in the future, given what she knew about their medical history from before they met. “That’s what I signed up for after all.”

[olwog]

Today we learn that walking alone isn’t lonely, little people are affected hugely by big decisions and even at 80, you’re never too old to walk 500 miles.

The morning sees blue skies and a sunny day but not too warm, perfect for walking. I walk to the cafe where Carlos is doing a wonderful job welcoming all for breakfast or just a drink. All of the pastries that have been carefully baked since four o’clock this morning are on display as people entering the lovely dining area have to walk past them. They’re still putting the chairs out on the pavement which overlooks the bay. It’s still a bit chilly for sitting out so only the smokers are there most with a coffee although it’s entirely proper in Spain to start the day with brandy or a large glass of white, after all, it’s gone five!

A coffee and a couple of stashed bananas later I’m looking for the shell and the yellow arrow that designates the Camino and with a little bit of GPS help, I find it.  The first one is embedded into the pavement with an unambiguous arrow pointing the route.

I thought I’d managed to avoid a return to the castle and cathedral by walking that part of the route last night but this takes me there once more and I accept it but it does get the heart rate up as it’s a fairly vicious climb about 200 feet but better early and it does brace me for the numerous ups and downs that follow.

  Out of San Vicente and another ‘up’ but then I have a view of the Picos Mountains still with snow on the peaks and looking back I have the whole of the bay area and mud flats festooned with birds. It’s early morning with a blue sky above and verdant green all around. This part of Spain does get a prevailing wind off the Bay of Biscay so the weather can be exciting at times and does include a fair amount of rain but the result is stunning when it’s sunny, as it is today.

At the top there is a seat carefully surrounded by a low hedge, it’s looking back towards the bay and I take off the rucksack and sit for a while, it’s wonderful. After a few minutes and a drink from the bottle I’d acquired from the fruit shop I reassemble my bags and set off again refreshed but this time it’s down. Gentle down is kind and enjoyable, this is gentle down and I take my time to walk into the valley, over the bridge that enables a safe crossing of the motorway into La Acebosa. This is a beautiful little village with all kinds of things for the family and I stop at the sports ground to readjust and decide on the route as it split between the woods and the original route which is a little longer, I decide on the original and take the extra 3 km on the chin. They’re both well signed so if you come this way either is going to be good.

Waiting to be canonised!

The next kilometre is quite seriously up and I have to step aside to allow a very smelly Discovery to crawl up the hill in a cloud of diesel smoke. The up-side is that it’s the only vehicle I see and at the top, there’s a wonderful steady down that enables me to take in the priceless view of the Picos Mountain Range complete with snow.

 The only person that I pass smiles and says, “Buenos, que tal”. 

It seems the way of the Northern Spanish, they only utter the first word of what is normally a two word greeting, at this time of the day it would be ‘Buenos Dias’ and I answer “Bien, gracias” (Good, thanks) and only then realise that it’s the first time that I’ve uttered any Spanish without having to either think it through or write it down – I’m really chuffed and begin to think I’ve cracked it. As the days progress I’ll realise that this was a one off and I’ll be back to normal but I bathe in glory for the moment.

The track takes me along relatively flat contours at about two or three hundred feet and the land below me is rolling meadows and woods with the odd stream. The flowers at this time of year are exquisite.

I pass through farms and small hamlets some with antique farm machinery discarded at the side of the road and looking like one-off’s designed by the farmer and knocked together by the local blacksmith. They’re ingenious and often simple and I sit on one for my banana break to the delight of some children playing in a tiny playground. 

“Hey, perigrino”, they call, initially I don’t pick up the words then one of them, very hesitatingly, said, “Are – you – having – a – nice – day?”, she pronounces the words slowly with a gap between each one and the others laugh.

“A very good day, thank you, gracias”, I reply then add, “Bien dia, Gracias”.

Their mums are sitting on a bench seat smiling. One of them said something in Spanish to the little girl that had spoken to me and she says, “I – am…”, then broke off and looks at her mum who says something that I can’t hear.

The little girl picks up again, she’d clearly been given a bit of coaching from her mum, “ Soy Anna, I – am – going – to – Leeds, mi papá esté alli.”, she’s excited and adopts her native tongue; I recognise the first two words as “I’m Anna” and the last bit as, “…my dad is there”. 

So, in full, “I’m Anna, I am going to Leeds, my dad is there”

I tell her that’s wonderful and mum quickly translates and Anna goes back to her friends.

I ask Mum if she is going to live in Leeds or just visiting and tell her I live in Yorkshire. She tells me that everything is up-in-the-air because of Brexit, she is a Biology teacher and he is a specialist nurse, for the first time on any of these walks I am seriously pissed-off that we’re putting up artificial barriers to valuable and skilful people but try not to show it and wish them all well.

“Have a nice day with your friends Anna”. She’s gone back to playing some kind of skipping game and she stops and gives me a lovely vigorous girly wave and combines it with a smile that would stop traffic. I wish Anna’s mum lots of luck and walk back on the track slightly misty-eyed at the thought of all of the innocent families caught up in this senseless debacle.

I walk another hour under-a-cloud but this slowly resolves itself as the challenges of the trail push me a little bit. There had been a couple of serious ‘ups’ followed by walking on loose shale then back to summer meadows and I begin to think of my wonderful childhood in pastures like these.

I’d lingered in Hortigal and Grave, both tiny hamlets of half-a-dozen houses and just a farm but always a smile and a “Buen Camino” as I pass.  Sergio is a little bit bigger and I look for a coffee shop where I’m rewarded by La Gloria. There’s a rack of four rucksacks sitting on a bench outside and I marvel at the thought of leaving all of my worldly goods sitting outside a cafe but this is the Camino and whilst it would be ludicrous to say there is no theft it remains that there is significant trust so I put mine on the end and go in. 

*Just for clarity – there is a huge difference between trust and recklessness, my passport, insurance and money is in a bumbag on my belt

La Gloria – a nice watering hole in Serdio

A small reminder that many folks do this as a pilgrimage

It’s good to get the boots off and spend some time with a tortilla, baguette and orange drink. It’s a powerful combination of energy without bloating and the tortilla especially is composed of little more than egg and potato with some seasoning and when coupled with a banana it can and does keep me going all day.

There’s the usual banter between the peregrinos, ‘Where have you been?’, ‘Where’d you start?’, ‘How far are you going today?’  It’s usually conducted in broken English which tends to be the intermediate language of the Camino. Some have finished their day and stopping here, others like me, have another hour or two to go and then we get a couple who’re real athletes, they’ve been doing 35 to 45km per day and this is no exception. They have my admiration but it’s not the way I do it, I like to stop from time-to-time, make a photo and write this stuff at the end-of-the-day so I need a bit of headroom for that. When I see them leave; however, they’re travelling light i.e. someone has been hired to take their stuff to the next hostel or albergue and then I see them set off and understand why – they’re running – wow!

I leave Serdio and within a couple of hundred metres bump into Ignatius and he tells me that his friends and family pronounce it the Basque way ‘Inyaki’. He’s spent a year in Australia learning English and he’s certainly been successful. We walk about five kilometres together then bump into a wonderful bunch of multi-national retired folks in a loop road off a byway. There’s a Vietnamese/Canadian; a Japanese/American; a guy from the UK (I’ll come to him), and others but I don’t have enough time on this leg to talk to them all. 

We stop for a while and share a few jokes. There’s a tiny guy from Japan called Akida with good English and he proudly tells me he’s eighty years old and he’s doing this particular Camino, (The Norte) ‘because it is 800km and it is the hard one’, well I hope I’m still walking at eighty, that really will do me! The natural dynamics of a walking group apply to this one and within five minutes I’m walking with someone else when I tell him I’m from Northallerton he looks surprised and asks me if I know Bailey Place. I tell him it’s been fifty years since I saw him and he responds with the fact that he’d been his boss in Leeds. 

I’ve travelled all over the world to conduct seminars and lectures and never been tempted to ‘play away from home!’. I was once in a nightclub after some work in Klang, a port town in Malaysia to which tourists would never dream of going. I leaned across the bar to ask for a beer and got a tap on my shoulder, “Get me a beer too”, said a familiar voice. It was a friend from Hartlepool. These events just prove I wouldn’t have got away with it anyway!!

My new found friends are stopping at various points along the way and my hostel is here in Pésues so I take my leave. I’ve only known them five minutes but there’s still a slight regret when we part and I make my way up the steep hill to the Hostel Baviera and it turns out it’s not bad.

I’m up on the hill looking across the valley, I’m with some lovely people and the restaurant is sporting some tasty meals for tonight so, yet again, I’m smiling.

Enjoy the snaps…G..x

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Camino – San Vicente de la Barquera to Pésues Today we learn that walking alone isn’t lonely, little people are affected hugely by big decisions and even at 80, you’re never too old to walk 500 miles.