#fingers always stitching or carving or packing or typing

[saltedsnailstudio]

“becoming” banner by jasper alexander

linocut print on fabric, home sewn utilizing recycled textiles

[nelllraiser]

hell’s true north | adam & nell

TIMING: current. LOCATION: hellscape number ??. PARTIES:  @walker-journal & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: adam follows his compass home. CONTAINS: sibling death (brief references to the bea plot), mass poisoning (from inhospitable domain), parental death mentions.

Vines with the texture of withered leather fingers writhed under Adam’s feet as he stumbled out of a brackish puddle of ichor. Disaster response boots that’d been designed to weather fire, acid, and radiation had eventually yielded before the onslaught of otherworldly environs. Now the ragged soles barely clung to his feet, wrapped tight with bloody strips of bloody demon hide. The most cutting edge kevlar, environment-resistant tactical gear, breathing apparatuses, and deadly military firearms had been gradually ravaged into uselessness by universes full of chemicals and alternative laws of physics that Earthly science had never imagined. As the tactics, preparation, and martial science Adam had once relied on was stripped away in the nonstop battles with demonic flora and fauna, the title of Hunter had become brutally literal. 

Adam spelunked through caverns that formed from the innards of sleeping elder things, scaled cliff sides made of solidified light and shadow, jumped across archipelagos of bone islands floating in stormy skies, climbed up trees the size of skyscrapers whose fruits were embryonic sacks in which monsters gestated, hiked across the savannahs with rolling plains of scalpel-sharp obsidian grass, and tightroped across worlds that were just spider webs of tentacles stretched across abyssal gyres. 

Adam was now a ragged figure where a dauntless soldier had once been, the shreds of his tactical uniform stitched together with leather and pieces of chitin. Once the olympics-ready peak of health, the footballer’s veins were stained with dark lines across his skin and he stumbled across the landscape of grasping roots and tide pools of black blood. His breathing was shallow treks through world after world had wracked the Hunter’s body with alien toxins that even the mutant’s regeneration was failing to fight off. Adam’s vision was blurred with the edges and everything muscle in his battered body begged to just lay down in darkness. 

But the compass in Adam’s hand pointed the way across the hellscape of fire, floating islands of tentacled flesh, and geometric monoliths to old gods that's already sunk into dreaming torpor long before humankind had discovered fire. Adam fought back agony and followed the compass needles across the poisoned land. 

Everything had blurred together by now. Nell couldn’t even clearly remember how she’d gotten to this realm, just that she’d fallen through far too many holes in the ground, off cliff sides, or out of sky-hanging oceans to even begin to remember what world this was. The red skies she’d originally arrived under were long gone, barely a memory after all the worlds that had followed, and all the attacks she'd scrambled to come out of in one piece. Though perhaps calling herself one piece was being generous when she’d resorted to packing the missing chunks of her flesh with whatever she could find that didn’t instantly sting and burn at her open wounds. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d slept, time still immeasurable in places like these— just that she hadn’t done it since the baykok’s attack. The lack of sleep meant she hadn’t been able to replenish a single shining grain of her magic after she’d been quite literally drained and fed from, her body having nothing but sheer determination to keep her wavering feet from falling out beneath her. 

Something was the very definition of fundamentally wrong with this world in terms of survivability. Nell could feel it in the way each breath felt sharper than the last, and the ugly coughs that had her spitting up black specks on the palms of her hands. None of the places she’d seen could have been described as friendly, but this one felt like it was digging her foot deeper into the grave with every second she stayed. She needed to find a way out if she wanted to make it another hour. Nell was far past the point of finding a way back to White Crest, ready to settle for a hellscape that wasn’t killing the witch with every inhale of her lungs, and go from there if she could manage to last that long. How long had she lasted already? How much longer could she last? She’d always been a fighter, refusing to go down without taking at least a part of her attacker with her. But how could she carve out a piece of a world? How was she meant to rage against an entire realm? Maybe sometimes there was simply nothing to fight against, the hand of Fate snuffing out her life whether she liked it or not. 

And yet she kept walking, limping along as the injury on her leg oozed with some otherworldly infection that promised to kill her if this air didn’t. There was no direction, no plan, just the foolish hope that she’d stumble into a place where she could properly breathe. She walked until she could barely make out a figure on the horizon, squinting her eyes against the bright green and dingy brown of this place while she wondered if this would be the final creature to kill her. But the figure grew closer, and despite her best judgement an uncontrollable wave of hope flooded her chest. “Adam?” she dared to utter, even though she knew it was far too good to be true. Nell and the hellscape had done this before in the form of a tikbalang sending her astray with the perfect illusion of her hunter. “We’re doing this again?” she asked the air in a tone that was resigned to the disappointment of finding another falsehood, the high instantly giving way to a low. “What is it? Another tikbalang?” But this Adam was different. He looked sickly, and past the point of battered— like he’d already knocked on death’s door only for death to tell him to come back in ten or so minutes. They’d call him when they were ready. Why would an illusion-caster show her this? 

Hallucinations had become ever more common as toxic environs and constant otherworldly stimuli wore down Adam’s nervous system. 

Sometimes it was dad, gently reminding him of past lessons as Adam fought his way through nightmarish creatures and tried to find his way through landscapes only possible in other realities. Other times it was James or Terry, come to chat idly about football and girls as Adam trekked across wastelands whose sloping yet flat contours didn’t obey the rules of time and space. Dave gruffly reminded him about knots and the perils of marine warfare as Adam journeyed through rivers that flowed up into the sky and seas of sentint poison. Regan gave pointers on splinting a broken arm with a demon’s bones all while primly reminding him she wasn’t that kind of doctor. Orion nervously recounted facts about obscure demon types as Adam ducked claws and spines while trying to find a weak point. Ariana punched Adam in the arm and reminded him to buck up and put on a tough grin when everything was just pain. Athena gave advice on slowing the poison’s spread through his body with her mixture of tenderness and steel. Kaden brusquely correctly Adam on his stances as the younger Hunter’s limbs trembled with neurological damage, before reminding him to stay alive. Mina kept him vigilant, pointing out dangerous movements and sounds even when every fiber of Adam’s body wanted to sink into oblivion. Morgan spoke gently to him when the horror became too much, her hand on his shaking shoulders when the mental strain of glimpsing elder things sent Adam into seizuring convulsions. Dani reminded him of duty and their ancestral oaths with a concerned smile when ancient deceivers whispered in Adam’s brain, offering easy miracles in his moments of weakness. Luce yelled at him to get the fuck back up and fight when Adam could barely stand and death’s release drew close. Beatrice demanded that Adam remember who he’d come her for, when poisoned dreams threatened to swallow reality entirely. 

So this was not the first time Adam’d met Nell and had to hold back tears when stabbing yet another shapeshifter to death or felt crushing emptiness when it turned out he’d only embraced only empty air. 

Adam looked down at the compass needle, pointing unerringly forward. 

“Hey Nell,” Adam rasped through cracked lips, taking a green stone with a hole through its center from a cord around his neck. He held out the Adder Stone in one hand, gory knife clutched in the other. “When’d you give this to me?” 

Nell looked to the Adder Stone held in Adam’s hand, her solemn resignation to the illusion disrupted by the flickering of uncertainty in her eyes. The compass was a new addition as well, though she recognized the daffodil bloom she’d carefully laid into the face of it, the magic and flowers they’d made together under a full moon. “But I didn’t- I was gonna give you that after the date,” she mumbled, already chiding herself for how easily a couple of emotional trinkets could sway her mind towards what the demon world wanted her to see. But the compass wasn’t what he was asking about. The Adder Stone. Of course she remembered when she’d given it to him- the first of many things she’d gifted in an attempt to keep him safe. 

“After Bea- after we...brought her back.” Nell had masqueraded the gift as a thanks for Adam’s help in bringing her sister back from the ether, but the truth had gone deeper than that. “I said it was for helping protect my family. But I just- the carachs had just given you those visions, and the somnivore thing wasn’t that far off.” It’d been nearly a year ago that she’d delivered the stone, nearly five months after their first meeting at the Ring, and by then she’d already gotten soft for him. “You were hurting and- I didn’t want you to hurt.” Taking the Adder Stone between her fingers, she swallowed hard as she held it before her face, already dreading the moment he’d disappear before her eyes. The motion sent her into a brief coughing fit, the heaves long and loud as her lungs desperately tried to dispel the poison in her system. At the end of it she finally raised the stone’s center to her eye, knowing this vision and her willingness to linger with even a false Adam had already shaved precious moments off the stopwatch that was ticking down the seconds until the poison got the best of her. “Let’s just- let’s get this over with.” It was silly, and she shouldn’t have said it knowing he was nothing more than an exhaustion or demon induced delusion. But she couldn’t help herself as the next words whispered from her lips, trying to find a moment of peace in a land that had never known it. “I miss you. I’ll miss you.”

Finally Nell looked through the stone’s center, still surprised at how solid it felt in her hands, wondering if that was another lie to be chalked up to feeling dead on her feet. Except Adam didn’t fade from view, didn’t disappear into nothingness as she locked her gaze onto his familiar and brown eyes. She gasped, still hardly believing it but reaching out nonetheless, letting the Adder Stone thump unceremoniously against his chest while its cord slackened and her hand found a gentle resting place alongside his cheek. Warmth. Perhaps a little too warm, as if he were running a fever. But there was the unmistakable feeling of life beneath her fingertips, and she didn’t hesitate a moment longer to close the space between them, slipping her other hand into his. Her knees grew even more unsteady, either from shock, barely having the energy to hold herself upright, or both— and for a moment she rested a little more weight against him than she probably should have considering his state. But it was impossible for her not to sink into the first safe place she’d found since the onychorror had snatched her. She’d finally found a place where she was safe in the hellhole. A place where she’d always been safe to crumble, to relieve her walls of their nearly ever-present duties. A place where she knew it was safe to fall because he’d never once stumbled when it came to catching her. “How- How did you- you’re real? Please- either this is a really good mindfuck or-” Or Tate had made good on his deal, and managed to get her hastily doctored sigil back to White Crest. Was it possible something had actually gone right? Had gone so right as to bring the man she loved to her side?

Adam let the knife fall from his hand onto the writhing ground and put his arms around Nell. There was a moment of tenseness, of resigned expectation. But she didn’t turn to mist, slip right through him, or boil up into some hungry thing. Tidal waves of relief and shock at something too impossibly good to be true collided in Adam’s chest. Nell was solid, real. Just a moment Adam couldn’t feel the heat of the burning sky or the poisons of alien worlds killing him cell by cell. 

“I’m real,” Adam assured holding her tight with what strength was left in him. “I’m really here.” He entwined the fingers of their free hands. “I don’t want any other life except one with you in it,” the Hunter confessed, wasting precious water as the tears slid down his bloody and battered face. 

“So uh...here I am.” 

Nell could feel her own tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, an avalanche of relief washing over her near-ravaged spirit, almost still waiting for this moment to break in a way that left her spinning. But the moment never came, and Adam was breathtakingly solid within her arms. For a long breath she savored the peace he brought, like a salve over an open wound. She wanted to bury herself against him, to hide from the world around them and pretend like it didn’t exist, but the fear that he’d disappear if she so much as looked away from his gaze was too great, afraid to even blink lest the break in their eye contact be the blip of time needed for him to dissipate from under her hands. 

She could feel her pulse gain a few extra beats while Adam made his declaration, heart in her throat while she ran his words on repeat through her mind. It was wrong. So wrong that such beautiful words should have to be uttered in a world as ugly as this one, spoken between the gasping breaths of a dying pair. Nell had always known that loving Adam wouldn’t be easy between his constant brushes with death, and the conditioning that often made him feel the need to put humanity’s welfare before anything else in his life. She’d done it nevertheless, having made peace with the fact that maybe he wouldn’t ever wholly be her’s, a part of him always belonging only to his mission. The pieces of him she’d been given had been more than enough. But that didn’t mean his admission didn’t tug at her heart, didn’t make it soar in a way that made a fluttering bloom in chest that had nothing to do with the poisonous air slowly killing her.

“Here you are,” Nell finally managed to repeat in wonder. Hadn’t he been the one trying to convince her to leave him behind should the demon apocalypse commence? He'd told her that she was a part of humanity’s hope for survival, that she should abandon him for the sake of the world. It was his own words that made her know the gravity of him choosing to come for her, to potentially sacrifice one of humanity’s hopes in the form of himself by searching for her in the endless worlds. And that was enough to keep her voice steady and sincere while she spoke. “I don’t want a life without you either.”

Part of Nell wanted to be upset with him, to scold him for being so foolish with his own life by following her into the portal, but she couldn’t manage to speak the words through the temporary moment of solace they’d found in the middle of hell— unwilling to break it. Unfortunately there was something else that needed to be said that would do just as good a job at shattering their moment of quiet. Something she couldn’t ignore. “There’s...something else I need to tell you.” Let her hold onto this shining feeling for just a few more seconds before she brought them back to reality.

Adam had grown up with the knowledge that his life wasn’t his own. It belonged to humanity’s destiny, a merciless idol that generations upon generations of his family had been sacrificed to appease. The abnegation of the self had been soothing in a way, it’d made him brave in a way. It doesn’t hurt to suffer and risk your life again and again if it isn’t truly yours to lose. He tried to never deceive the women in his life. Nobody deserved to be given only part of someone to love. 

Mom and dad had loved each other intensely, and Adam had seen the aftermath after the needs of humanity had demanded yet another sacrifice. At the time he’d thought he’d learned a lesson from Esther Walker’s sorrow, and was determined to never hurt someone the way his father had. 

But after three years of complete radio silence, Adam had spoken with mom and learned too late that he'd gotten it all wrong. As he’d grown, so had she, and neither mother or son were the same broken people that’d parted at Gehena 19. 

Penelope was a person he shouldn’t have loved. She practiced demonology, the very art that’d fucked up the world in the first place. She’d participated in human trafficking and slavery. She’d performed ritual human sacrifice. She’d hunted down bounties without any concern for morality or a higher cause. She aided and abetted supernatural criminals simply because of her personal feelings. When these actions reaped consequences, Nell responded with personal wrath and revenge rather than seeking resolution, splintering tragedy into ever more fractals of repercussion. 

Basically, by every standard he’d been raised to believe in, Penelope Vural was evil, and if she hadn’t been born human Adam would’ve been obligated to kill her. 

But that’s not what happened. At first it’d just been that she was a useful ally. Next it'd just been typical horndog Adam, thinking with the head in his trousers rather than one on his shoulders again. Physical attraction and wary partnership had explained things for only so long however. She was brave, self-sacrificing, vivacious, and free to act according to passion and her free will in a way Adam had never dared to be. Eventually Adam was sharing things with her that he’d never dreamed of telling anyone else. 

He wasn’t supposed to care about someone like Nell, to give her so much of what belonged to the mission. Adam could only love someone also sworn to fight the same war, no one else could understand the sacrifices necessary and what’d inevitably come sooner rather than later. Adam had been introduced to Huntresses his age with the unspoken understanding that eventually he’d find someone to fight alongside and raise children with to pass the sacred charge onto the next generation. 

Adam had drank, partied, and screwed his way into forgetting for a while. Until suddenly, he ended up loving the wrong person, someone who wanted Adam for just himself, war be damned. 

It wasn’t the right thing. 

But what if he just….did y’know?

What he just loved Nell like she deserved without holding back, fight for his own humanity for a change?

Adam just wished he'd had the courage to take that plunge earlier. 

Adam looked parted the embrace slightly so that he could meet her gaze  “What is it Nell?” 

Nell hadn’t planned to fall for Adam Walker, hadn’t even entirely noticed how close she’d let him get until she’d felt like she was on the edge of losing him, delivering the news that August Thompson had died a death far from peaceful— that Adam’s hand had been directly involved in the spellcaster’s demise. Of course she’d known he was one of the people she’d trusted most, one of the only people she’d ever let see her stripped to the core while he’d held her after Bea’s death. It was why she’d asked him to help in the first place. But she hadn’t realized just how much there was to lose until she was standing on the precipice. She’d been convinced that it would be the end, that she’d managed to ruin something before even really letting it begin, and that he wouldn't come back. It turned out she didn't need to worry about him coming back, because he’d never left in the first place. And he kept not leaving, something that had been rare in the life of a witch who had an overzealous temper and a reckless streak a mile wide. 

So when he’d done things others might condemn or draw the line at— killed a werewolf in cold blood, admitted his own bloodlust beneath a full moon, gone on a murder spree fueled by the same moon, considered a demon pact, left her on read in the middle of feeling as if she were about to lose him...there’d been no choice of whether or not she’d grant him the same loyalty, to stay with him just as he’d stayed with her. She’d just wanted him to come home. And he always had. Even now, after fighting his way through literal hell, he’d come home.

Selfishly putting off her bad news for one moment longer, she let months of feeling the sun on her face when he smiled fill her soul, holding onto that feeling as she tried to find the words for what she wanted to say. What needed to be said if they didn’t make it out of this hellscape, and what she should have said much sooner despite being scared. She’d been worried about what he might say in reply, always thinking of that part of himself that she knew he felt he couldn’t give, not sure if she wanted to hear the ‘I’m sorry, but’ that she might get in response. But the man who’d dived into hell for her deserved to hear it, and she wasn’t scared anymore. “You know I love you, right?” He didn’t need to say it back, she’d finally realized that while he’d been walking towards her, knowing loving words could never speak as loudly as his actions had. “I just wanted you to know,” she assured him, letting him know she didn’t need to hear it in return. It wouldn’t change anything. 

Now for the less charming of her news. “Not to...instantly bring the mood down but...the other thing I needed to tell you…” Nell glanced over her shoulder, as if the soul-snatching creature would be there even now as she divulged news of it. “There’s a...slaugh. I think it’s been following me.” Adam would know what it meant, that such creatures only went after those who were generally mere hours from dying, waiting to devour their souls. Nell had glimpsed it as she kept rubbing elbows with death in the hellscape, the being momentarily coming into focus while she’d barely escaped a demon encounter with her life still intact. The creatures were nearly as good at predicting death as banshees were.

Adam followed her gaze towards the burning horizon where plasma storms corrustated in lightning rainbows over living plains of crawling flesh. Slaugh were vultures of the spirit world. As a kid he’d been terrified of the invisible presences that set off his Hunter senses whenever there was a clash between militia forces around the Levant. It’d felt like a blizzard of dark wings, choking him with claustrophobia on empty arid plains covered in bodies shredded by shrapnel.

Mom had assured her son he wasn’t crazy. He could just feel the demons glutted humanity’s senseless wars against itself.  

Adam‘s mind went back to Regan’s prophecy and felt an iron dread settle in his stomach, adding bittersweetness to the joy and relief coursing through his enervated body. 

Adam let the future go and drew Nell close against him again, just letting this moment exist for as long as hell allowed. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth ,” he murmured.

The tension in Nell’s shoulders melted as Adam pulled her back, savoring their togetherness for as long as she could, feeling true hope for the first time since...she wasn’t actually certain how long it had been, not even knowing how many days she’d been stuck in these hell-worlds. She drew a long breath while she was pressed against him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was still here- still real even though it seemed impossible that he was. When they got back to Earth. It seemed like a far off hope, like shooting for the moon without any of that bullshit optimism of landing among the stars. “Then you can tell me the plan when we find a place that’s not suffocating us.” He wouldn’t have come without one, right? It was one thing to condemn himself to death, and she wouldn’t be entirely surprised given his generally self-sacrificing nature, whether that had been taught, was natural, or a combination of the two. But it was another entirely to forfeit the life of her as well by diving in without an extraction plan. He wouldn’t have risked the person he was saving.

The slaugh was worrisome enough as an omen of death, but there’d been more to consider when it’s eating of souls was brought into play. Nell still wasn’t all that sure whether she’d want to be raised from the dead in the first place should she perish in the next twenty-four hours, but if the slaugh ate her soul...she wouldn’t have a choice to begin with. You couldn’t raise a body without a soul. 

Again Nell fell silent while she drank in as much as this as she could, the dread in her stomach a constant reminder of how far there still was to go. But with Adam- at least she stood a chance. With Adam they could at least sleep, taking varied watches. And then maybe some of her magic would come back and Adam could heal, and then...well then they’d at least have a fighting chance together, always stronger together. Nell used her fragile strength to bring herself to the tips of her toes, trying to press a gentle kiss to his black-veined cheek before feathering across his lips. “We’ll figure it out when we get back to Earth,” she echoed, recognizing it as another promise they could hold between them. They’d go back to Earth together in the same way they’d fought the dolorphage, the way they’d faced an unknown future beneath the full moon all those months ago, and the same way they’d taken on a demon cult and lived to tell the tale— always together.

[imaginepirates]

Modern! Jack

Another modern au where Jack stumbles upon your house in the woods. This is an outdoorsy one for everyone who loves Jack being Jack. You try to convince Jack that the mountains are just as beautiful as the sea. (Poll: which do you like better?)

@emdrabbles​ @tesserphantom​ @paljonkaikenlaista​ @viper-official​ 

~3000 words

~~~~~~~

          The wind whispered through the trees, the light dappling through the leaves to fall across the ground in mesmerizing patterns. You stood under them, watching the movement in the undergrowth. Mice scuttled through the bushes, insects skittered across the ground, and a thrush took flight from its place in the grasses. You walked along a path that led away from your small home and out into the woods. You lived in a secluded area, away from the hustle and bustle of city life. It was nice, out in nature. It was relaxing, and your walks always took you somewhere new.

          You stepped off the path, letting your feet lead you. You knew the area well enough that you wouldn’t get lost. You made your way to a small brook, using the stones jutting out from the water as a pathway across. The stream burbled up at you as you crossed. You were glad to have this space to yourself. Sometimes, hikers came along, and you held pleasant conversation with them. They came down from the hills behind your home, a beautiful range of white-topped mountains that stretched for miles, carved out by glaciers. You could swear that they were the most beautiful land formations on earth. A bird cawed somewhere nearby, taking off from its perch. You watched it fly overhead, admiring its deep blue coloring.

          You noticed the man not long after. He came stumbling through the trees, looking disoriented. He carried no pack, and you worried that something might have happened to him while he had been out hiking. Your fear was amplified by the fresh bloodstain on his shirt. You both stared at each other a shocked moment before either of you moved.

          You moved toward him, taking his arm. He must have been one of those modern hippies; his dreadlocks reached his lower back. There was some sort of dark makeup around his eyes, and his clothes were strange, too hot for hiking in. You brushed the thoughts of his strangeness out of your mind, intent on getting him some help. “I live not far from here. I can help you.”

          “Thank you, love. But may I ask: where exactly is ‘here’?”

          You glanced over at his face, realizing that he was sincere. Surely he had to have some idea of where he was. He’d likely gotten lost while out on the path, but there was no way that he could be utterly confused as to his location. “You’re by the Cascade Mountain Range.” Seeing his still-confused expression, you decided that the injury on his chest might be taking more out of him than you originally thought.

          You rushed him back to the house, a little surprised to find how steadily the man walked across the rocks in the stream. Once inside, you sat him on your couch and went to the bathroom for your first aid kit. You kept one around just in case, especially considering the fact that accidents like this did, in fact, happen.

          When you stepped back into your living room, you saw that the man was standing in your kitchen, casting a curious glance at your toaster-oven. Seeing the kit in your hands, he nodded, stepping back over toward the sofa.

          You pulled his shirt to the side to find a long gash. It was shallow, but it had bled a concerning amount. You bandaged it as best as you could, making sure to apply generous amounts of disinfectant. With the bleeding stopped, you took another look at your patient.

          He wore a bandana around his head with trinkets dangling from it, including a rather large piece of what you assumed to be plastic, though it looked convincingly like bone. His outfit was…interesting, to say the least. He wore what appeared to be a worn waistcoat over a billowing shirt, and he had thick belts around his chest and middle. The very personification of a swashbuckling pirate, you thought. He was the strangest person you’d met in the woods to date.

          “I know you might feel a little confused,” you said, carefully folding a bloodstained washcloth. “You seem to have lost some blood. Would you mind telling me what happened?”

          “Confused is a bit of an understatement, love. I’m baffled. Bewildered. Befuddled, if you will.”

          “And why is that, Mr…”

          “Sparrow.”

          “Mr. Sparrow.” Sparrow? you thought. Certainly not Sparrow as in Jack Sparrow, fictional pirate and dashing rogue?

          “Because I have no idea where I am. In perfect honesty, I have no idea when I am.”

          You almost laughed. The notion seemed so ridiculous. Then you realized he might have passed out somewhere, and was probably asking for the day of week. “It’s Thursday,” you said. “March thirteenth.”

          He nodded.

          “Do you mind telling me how you got hurt?”

          “Oh! That.” He looked down at the injury, as if analyzing it for the first time. “Swordfight.”

          “Swordfight?” At this point, you were fairly sure that you were hallucinating. You’d heard of strange things happening to people, encounters that left people shocked, but you’d never thought that you would have one. You couldn’t tell if the man was a very good actor, or if he was simply insane. You realized that it would be best to call the police. “You should get some rest,” you told him. “You look tired. When you wake up, I’ll have some food ready.”

          He thanked you, sprawling out across your couch to take a nap. You moved over to the kitchen, picking up the phone on the way there. Any man who claimed that he had been injured in the middle of the woods in a swordfight wasn’t the type you wanted to be around. You looked back at Sparrow, who had his thick leather boots slung over the edge of your sofa.

          A glint of metal caught your eye. There, resting by his hip, was a belt. A large sheath hung off one side, and a sword seemed to be inside it. “Excuse me,” you said without thinking. “Is that a real sword?” The pommel looked lovely, and you wanted to know where he might have gotten something so convincing.

          Sparrow cracked an eye. “Of course it is.” He flashed a glint of steel, then returned to his nap.

          You put down the phone. Maybe he's not crazy. You busied yourself making a snack, trying to calm your panicking mind. The man laying on your couch was too much like the actual Jack Sparrow, and you were afraid that you’d hit your head in the shower, or that you were still dreaming.

          By the time he woke up, he seemed very thankful for the peanut butter and jelly sandwich that you handed him. He ate it with gusto, eyes widening with what you knew was the unusual taste of peanut butter.

          “Thank you, love.” He licked the jelly off his fingers. “It seems that I’m in need of a place to stay. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to provide?”

          “Of course,” you squeaked.

          “Unfortunately, I don’t know my way home, and I don’t know how long I’m supposed to be here. I hope it’s not too inconvenient.”

          “Not at all.” It really wasn’t, but it was certainly odd to keep a strange man in your house for an undetermined amount of time.

          The next few days passed blissfully uneventfully, leaving you to tend to Jack’s injury and introduce him to modern technology. Hilariously, the bed was probably the thing he enjoyed most. You had a guest bed, and he flopped into it unceremoniously all the time. You supposed that if this truly was Jack, then he hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ages.

          He was wary of the shower, but you convinced him that scrubbing some of the grime off his face and body would make him feel better. He admitted, later, that it did.

          His wound healed up nicely. It hadn’t needed stitches, which you were thankful for. It had been a shallow cut, but it had bled a lot in the beginning, which had concerned you for obvious reasons.

          He kept flicking open a compass that looked suspiciously like the real one, staring at it before snapping it closed again, annoyed.

          “What do you keep looking at your compass for?”

          “Nothing.”

          You raised an eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

          “Look, lassie. I appreciate the hospitality, but the compass is my business.”

          You frowned. You hadn’t realized that Jack probably kept the compass a secret. From most people, at least. You supposed the people who knew about it were exceptions, given that they had known him for a while.

           You could tell he was growing fidgety, and that he needed something to do. He paced around the room sometimes, and he kept toying with some of the beads in his hair.

          “Do you want to go for a walk?” You asked. “You seem like you could use something to do.”

          He agreed. You left the house with a backpack full of food and water, just in case you needed it. Always better to be safe than sorry. You walked back along the little path you’d found him on. Again, he was surefooted crossing the rocks in the stream, and you wondered what would make his balance so good. The mountains rose up ahead of you, a hundred trails splitting off into the wilderness.

          “How can you tell where you are with all these trees?” Jack asked.

          “I suppose you have to know the paths. Or get a map. Or look for landmarks. It’s pretty easy to tell where you are in comparison to what mountains are around.”

          He looked up. “All your mountains look the same.”

          “That’s not true.” You pointed out the jagged rocks at the top of a mountain to your left, and the smoother top of the one to your right.

          “It’s easier to see things on the open ocean. The sea is the most beautiful thing in the world.” He spoke with such reverence, you could tell that he really believed it. He must love the ocean.

          “There’s nothing out there!” you said. “There aren’t any landmarks to tell you where you are.”

          “Stars, lassy.”

          “That’s only good at night,” you pointed out. “And I think the mountains are more beautiful than the ocean.”

          Jack made a face.

          “Have you ever hiked up to the top of one and looked off at everything down below?”

          “Why would I?”

          “Because it’s amazing. I’ll prove it to you.”

          Jack looked up at some of the towering peaks. “I’m not sure I can make it up there, love.”

          “It’s not so bad, I promise. We won’t go all the way up to the top, anyway. That requires rock-climbing gear.” Jack still looked dubious, but you kept on. “You can’t say that something isn’t beautiful if you haven’t experienced it. I’ve been to the ocean. I know it’s pretty, but not as lovely as the sight off the top of the hills.”

          “If you say so.”

          You led him up a dusty path that connected to the base of one of the mountains. There was a ledge of rock that you could climb up to and look out at all the things down below. You started leading him up through the trees and bushes.

          Jack looked around at all the foliage. His eyes followed flying birds, gliding butterflies, and flowers lining the path. He stared, wide eyed, at all of it. As you climbed higher, he looked out between the trees to see the view. You enjoyed the look of surprise on his face when he gazed out over your home.

          “I don’t think I’ve ever been this high up before,” he said.

          “We still have a ways to go, too. You’re going to love it when we reach the top.”

          He looked back at you with a silly grin. “You’re right: this is beautiful. Not sure it beats freedom on the ocean yet, but it’s something.”

          You couldn’t wait for him to see it all sprawling out underneath him. The true views were something else. You loved looking down over the little valley you were in, trying to find your house in the trees, looking across at more towering mountains, the sun framed by the peaks.

          When you finally reached the top, the afternoon sun hung overhead in the sky. Jack stopped a moment to catch his breath before walking out onto the shelf of rock that extended from the cliff face. He sucked in a breath as he looked out at the view.

          The trees had fallen away behind you, and the shelf of rock gave you an unobscured view of the valley below. You could just pic out your small house among the trees far beneath you. The sky seemed to stretch on forever, over the mountains opposite you, bright blue in the midday sun. Everything looked so small; the stream you’d crossed earlier was a winding ribbon, and the road leading up to your house was no wider than a finger from where you stood.

          “This is…there aren’t words, love.” Jack gazed out over the expanse. “I’ve never seen anything like it. And the air is crisp, crisper than on the sea, even. And there’s no sound. It just...disappears.”

          “I know. Now you can see why I love it so much.”

          “I do.”

          You sat on the rock, enjoying the view and eating snacks. There was the occasional bird whistle, but other than that, you were in complete silence. No sounds from the road traveled up to greet you, and you were there all alone. Jack couldn’t stop staring. Obviously, he’d never hiked up anything in his life.

          He flipped open his compass with a practiced flick. Chewing on a granola bar, he looked down, almost lazily, and the expression on his face changed at once. He was on his feet in an instant. He stepped out off the outcropping, back onto the trail, and took a few short strides to the left. Then, he turned in a few circles, finally stooping down to pick something up.

          He brought it back to you, inspecting it carefully. It seemed to be some kind of broach. Why his compass pointed him to a broach, you couldn’t understand, but you were beginning to understand that this was, in fact, the real Jack Sparrow in front of you. He sat back down, and pulled at a piece of string attached to the object. It had some paper on the end of it. A note, probably. His eyes widened, and he cursed under his breath.

          “What is it?”

          “Nothing.” He shoved it in a pocket.

          You looked at him suspiciously, but decided to leave it. He’d tell you if he wanted to. Besides, you had to head back down the mountain if you wanted anything to eat for dinner.

          You headed back with Jack in a dark mood. He glared testily at the trees and shrubs. Obviously, whatever he’d found in the woods was bothering him. You didn’t want to pry, but you were curious to know what made his mood change so quickly.

          You arrived back at your house just as the sun was beginning to sink over the opposite mountains. The air conditioning felt blissful against your warm skin. A shower was in order, you knew, but you decided to clear the air first. Jack had dropped onto the couch, and you walked up, sitting down beside him.

         “What was it?” You asked gently.

          “What was what?”

          “You know what.” You sighed. “The thing you found while we were out hiking.”

          “My ticket home, is what.”

          “Your ticket home?” You didn’t understand.

          He moved closer, showing you the broach. It was a silver ship, and the light bounced off the reflective surface. Then, he grabbed the note, holding it up for you to read.

          Jack, it seems you’re doing well where I put you. You were never very good at facing your problems, so I decided to give you one you couldn’t run away from. You seem to have acclimated to the future, and you deserve a way back. Just rub on the ship and think of home.

          You stared, flabbergasted. What did it mean? The initials at the end caught your notice. T.D. Surely that had to be Tia Dalma. Was Jack going already, then? Was he leaving you to go back to your everyday life? You’d enjoyed his company, and the more you thought on it, the less you wanted him to go.

          “Damned woman put me in the future herself! I can’t believe her, sometimes. But that’s women for you.” He turned to you. “Well, not all women, I guess.”

          “Are you leaving, then?” You asked, a little afraid of the answer.

          “I do want to get back to my Pearl,” he said, “but I like it here. It’s a nice rest from the ship. Besides, Tia said I needed to do some learning. I don’t suppose it would hurt to do a little more.” He grinned cheekily. “So, tell me about yourself.”

          “I don’t think that’s what she meant.” You smiled in spite of yourself.

          “You’re right. She wanted me to face my problems. And you’re certainly not a problem, love.”

          Oh dear. You rolled your eyes. It was going to be different, if he decided to stick around. Different, but decidedly worthwhile.

          “Tell me one thing,” he said. “Does my not-problem kiss? They’ve certainly deserved it. I mean, they’ve patched me up, and given me a place to stay, and shown me some beautiful views.” With that statement, he raked your body over with his eyes. “I think we can do more beautiful things, too.”

          You blushed furiously. “I suppose that depends. Are you a good kisser?”

          “You’re going to have to come over here to find out.” He winked.

          He was. And he insisted on proving it to you quite a few times. Not that you minded.

[asmoakingqueen]

The New World

Sara still had no real understanding of what was happening and why she was where she was. One moment, she was laying in bed, waiting for Mia to get out of the shower and the next she was on some space ship, heading to an alternate reality that also apparently didn't exist? One where she needed to find Mia, otherwise the Mia still in the shower would end up hurt or hurting the city? It was a lot of confusion on Sara's part, but if there was one thing that her father had drilled into her brain about the person that she was named after, it was that she could be trusted. And if there was one thing that she knew about herself, it was that she would never, ever, not do everything in her power to keep Mia safe and to make her happy. So going to this version of 2040 was the only choice. As she stood outside the waverider, Sara listened to Ava go over what she needed to do. Find Mia, make sure that she followed the same path she had before, so that they could somehow change the future. She nodded and with a brief hug from the team, Sara was left alone in a Star City that was nothing short of a disaster.

"BlackSTAR!  BlackSTAR!  BlackSTAR!" the chants filled the air around the cage as Mia rolled to her feet and spat blood from her split lip.   It wasn't often that anyone got in a good lick on her anymore, especially not some punk who'd never turned up to the fights prior to that night.  Despite the pain she couldn't help but grin, knowing that he was done for now.  He came in too fast and her knee met his stomach, doubling him over as she jumped to grab hold of the top of the cage.   Her legs wrapped firmly around his neck and she used her own momentum to flip him over and land beside him with the grip still locked in.  He fought and scratched but faded, faded...and passed out.  The crowd began to roar all over again and she released the hold to drink in her applause.  Life was good.

Sara turned to the building behind her, curious as to why the Legends had chosen to drop her off here of all places. They hadn't been too forthcoming about more information than what she needed to do, which hadn't been extensively explained either, but she figured that there had to be some reason. She made her way inside and down the stairs, eyes widening when she saw the affair that was going on. Cage fighting. She had always known that it was something that existed, but it had never been something that she herself had experienced. Moving through the crowd, she ended up near the cage, a gasp pulling from her lips. "Mia?" She whispered to herself, watching as the fight played out in front of her. She was struck by just how different this version of Mia appeared; but it was Mia...her Mia if the Legends were correct about things, and so she would do what she had to. Watching the girl leave the cage, Sara moved quickly, pretending to accidentally knock into the girl. "I'm so sorry."

Mia threw her dirty blonde hair back out of her face with a grin and took a bow, walking out of the open cage in search of a drink to ease the pain and some ice for the welt above her eye.  The collision instantly put her on edge, but a good look at the other party spoke instant volumes.  This girl wasn't from Star City.  Life outside of the Glades left marks on people, made them harden up, and there was none of that in her eyes.  Even her clothes looked too soft, too innocent.   "It's fine, really." she offered, directing them both away from the cage and toward the bar - getting out of the blood and sweat that never seemed to completely dry.  "You alright, sweetheart?  Need a ride home or something?  Clint, behind the bar - he can call you a car."  If she wasn't from Star City, Mia knew it would be best for her to leave.

The sound of Mia's voice calling her 'sweetheart', but without any of the love or recognition that she was used to hurt a bit more than she was expecting. She shook her head at the other's words, biting down on her bottom lip. "I'm not planning to leave. Actually planning on getting a job. Here." She offered, her words firm, knowing that she needed to be steady with her tone of voice and her actions. If she wasn't, she would stand out even more than she already did. Mia had always had a keen eye and she was sure that that wasn't something that was different in this universe. If there was any doubt in her eyes, in her voice, Mia would pick up on it. And if that was the case, Sara was certain she would shut down.

Mia's stare was careful, evaluating.  Years of living on her own had sharpened instincts that were buried deep in her by Nyssa, and the brains Felicity had given her were no slouch either.  If this was some scared girl on the run from a rich father in the Glades, she couldn't stay.  That was a death sentence, one that would start with drink and proceed through all manner of unsavory things.  But there was nothing in her eyes or in any part of the way she presented herself that gave Mia pause.  So she nodded instead, content to leave the girl's history to her.  "All right.  Clint's still the guy to talk to, then.  And if tells you they're not hiring, tell him Blackstar asked him to change his mind.  Do you have anywhere to stay, or did you just get here?"

Her lips quirked into a grin when Mia told her to tell Clint that Blackstar hoped he would change his mind, if he didn't offer the job to begin with. "Well, thank you, Blackstar. I appreciate it. Your fight tonight was very impressive." Sara offered, head tilting to the side slightly, dark hair dropping down along her shoulders. "I have a temporary place. It will do for now. Though it's certainly not somewhere I can stay for long." She began, knowing that she'd gotten something from the Legends, but knowing that she needed to find something else. "I did get here pretty recently though." She agreed, slipping her hands into her pockets.

"Still undefeated," Mia confirmed with a cocky grin that made her face hurt all over again.  "If you're going to be working here then you're going to see a lot of me doing that," a finger crooked toward the cage made her point for her.  "Alright, good.  At least two locks on the door - nothing less.  If you don't have that, then you come back here and we'll figure something out."  Taking in strays wasn't in Mia's nature, but this girl looked deeply unprepared for the realities of Star City and she knew that feeling all too well.  She had grown past that feeling and carved out a life for herself, but it hadn't been easy and she didn't wish it on anyone.  "You know what, I'll follow you to the bar.  I need a bourbon and an icepack.  What brings you to this city, of all the places you could go?"

"I look forward to it." She said, eyes scanning over Mia's body. She looked damn good, if not a bit beaten up which hurt her heart a little bit. "Well, thank you...that's really kind." With Mia questioning what had brought her to Star City, Sara bit down on her bottom lip. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Sara said with a wink and a cocky quirk of her eyebrow. Mia had always found the quirk and the wink to be a winning combination and she could only hope that this Mia thought a similar way. After all, she really couldn't be completely honest about what she was doing in Star City, with anyone. Of course, she hoped to come clean to Mia eventually, but she had to earn her trust first; otherwise she would just seem like a lunatic.

Sara's evaluating glance was neither subtle nor missed, and Mia didn't mind it one bit.  She knew she looked good, and her new friend was no slouch herself in that department.  "Least I can do.  This isn't an easy place to live, so us girls gotta look out for each other."  There hadn't been anyone in Star City to watch her back when she arrived, but that was just life.  "Fair enough.  Although you'd be surprised what I could believe."  They reached the bar, where Clint already had her bourbon and ice ready, and Mia gestured to an empty stool.  "Clint, meet your new employee.  Ten percent cut of the next purse if you take her on."  There was no way he'd turn that down, so his smile at Sara was a friendly one.  "Welcome to the Pit.  Get you a drink?"

"Well, it's good to know I've got such a badass woman looking out for me." Sara replied, head tilting to the side. Never, in a million years would she ever flirt with someone that wasn't Mia. And while it felt weird to be flirting with this version of her girlfriend, she had been promised by Sara and the rest of the Legends that it was still her Mia; in some complicated and confusing way, they had assured her that she wasn't cheating. And she trusted Sara...that she wouldn't do anything to hurt her and wouldn't do anything to harm Oliver Queen's daughter. "I'll just have a bourbon on the rocks please." She offered, taking a seat on the stood with a grin. One didn't date Mia Queen for years and not come to appreciate bourbon.

Mia winked playfully in return.  There were no shortage of people who'd seen her fight and wanted a piece of her, but the simple fact was none of them had ever been worth it.  Maybe her new friend wouldn't be either, but it definitely felt more natural flirting with her than it had with any of the others.  "Excellent choice.  I can't vouch for any of the other booze in here but I can tell you they stock good bourbon.   Mostly because they like keeping me happy."  Mia sipped at her own, using her free hand to hold the ice pack against the cut over her eye.   She didn't think it was going to need stitches, but she at least needed to bring the swelling down.  "You a fight fan?"

The wink from the other still got her heart racing, though she was well-aware of the fact that this time she couldn't just pull Mia into a random room and fuck her against the wall or be fucked against the wall in return. She was really going to have to manage her usually responses to things in a way she hadn't really contemplated before this exact moment. "Let's just say my family used to be into some similar types of things. I guess the idea of it was passed down to me. But I'm not exactly the best fighter." Her father had certainly taught her how to protect herself, but she was trying to seem as non-threatening as she could. Especially because this Mia was clearly hardened by something.

"It's not for everyone," Mia nodded.  "Especially in a place like this. If you're having a civilized fight in a ring in the Glades then they'll let up on you if you're down.  This place isn't really like that."  Not that she was any exception - the rules were that you fought until someone was out cold and there was no room for mercy or politeness.  Mia hadn't seen any sign of steel in this girl, not the kind that was bred into a fighter, but there was something in the way she talked about her family that made Mia wonder just what sort of things they were into.   "Hopefully you're a fan of watching, though - I'd hate for you to miss the show while you're working here."

Sara nodded as Mia explained the situation, grasping her own glass of bourbon when it was handed to her. She took a sip and looked around. "Yeah, it definitely doesn't seem like the type of place where they'd let you get away scotch free." She mused before shrugging slightly. "Watching is more my thing anyway." Unless she needed to fight, but in her Star City, there had never been a reason to. She'd never felt unsafe enough to need to put what she'd learned into practice. "And don't you worry, I'll make sure to watch your fights."

Mia chuckled.  "No, we've got some strict rules in this place."  She wasn't sure why it made her feel so good to know that Sara would be watching, but it lit something up in her and she knew she'd be putting on more of a show for the girl in the future.  "I'm glad to hear that.   You'll never go away without being entertained."  Mia drained the rest of her drink and pushed the glass back across the bar.  "I think I'm going to head upstairs and take a shower.  You going to be good on your own?  If this guy here gives you any trouble just remind him I know all of his secrets."

"That makes. Gotta be some sort of code that they followed." Even if it seemed anti to what the ideals were in the Star City she knew. "Yeah, I'll be good. Maybe I'll get Clint here to show me the ropes." She offered, giving her a brief nod. "Good to meet you, Blackstar. I hope I'll be seeing you around." Sara said with a smirk, pushing herself off the stool and downing her glass as well before turning to Clint. "What do you say?" He brought her around the bar with a grunt and a nod, beginning to show her what was expected of her.

"It was nice meeting you too.  And remember what I told you - two locks on the door or don't stay there."  Mia gave Clint a wave and headed for the stairs, stretching her sore muscles and more than ready to relax for the night.

[cancer-man-speaks]

Cancer Sucks But You Live

My punctuation sucks because I haven’t evolved thumbs.

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

Sometimes I put things off so long that I feel ashamed and in turn try to bury it even deeper in the pile of things to do. As far as excuses go it’s not the greatest but most fall short of that. A great deal of that lost time is laziness but there is also a part of me that doesn’t want to look back, that doesn’t want to remember what it was like to be where you are at.

    Always obsessed with outward appearance, I cracked a joke when the doctor told me that my PET scan lit up like a Christmas tree on crank. I cried in my sister’s arms when she ran to me across the snow dusted parking lot of the clinic. I smoked a pack of cigarettes on the car ride home, trying to keep my hands busy, to do something other than think about what this all meant. I calmed down before walking in, steeling myself to be as stoic and stone faced for my family as I could. In my head I thought that I couldn’t feel this for the sake of others around me. The moment I walked in the door, I saw the tear streaked faces of my mother and sisters. The dogs milled around their ankles not sure what to make of all their sorrow and their inability to help (or in our beagle’s case, his inability to get fed.) All my bluster, all my hubris fell away when I saw my loved ones, the things I had to lose all in one place. They embraced me one at a time then we came together as a group and I lost it. All motor control lost, my legs felt like jelly. They as a group, as a family supported my weight until I could stand on my own two feet again. The beagle, ever caring, bit me in the ankle for being too far into my mother’s person space.

When I got home from the biopsy, that confirmed the doctor’s suspicion of cool case of type b small cell non-Hodgkin's lymphoma, I took to sleeping on the floor. I told myself it was to keep my bad back comfortable but the truth was it felt good to have something solid underneath me as everything was changing. The days passed and the face in the mirror grew ever more foreign. The bone under my flab carved itself out in my cheeks and jaw. Hollow pockets formed around my eyes that gave me the look of an upstairs basement dwelling gnurdsferatu. The only thing that didn’t change were the patterns on the pitted hardwood of my floor. I’d take off my glasses, lay my head on the cool floor, and follow the whirls in the grain with my weary eyes until they lead out of blurry site. There was a comfort in knowing that just because I couldn’t see where the rich, brown lines ended it didn’t mean they were done travelling.

Either through pity or not being able to read the signs of chemotherapy I’d occasionally get compliments on my physique. Over a beer or two somebody would ask, “You look really good, man. What’s your secret? You been going to the gym or doing heroin?”

Nothing beats the satisfaction of the anti-joke that is responding with an off handed, casual, “I have cancer. It beats the hell out of doing palates.” After you explain the sitch to people a million times explaining it one more time is mundane and boring. They will stumble a second on their words; not sure if you are telling the truth or a joke in poor taste. It’s the ultimate, “Gotcha,” moment. When your diagnosis becomes blasé your spirits soar.

    From a few days after I was diagnosed letters poured in by the boatload. Friends, family, friends of family, people that had passed me once at the mall and paid a compliment to my shoes all wanted me to know that there was hope and that I was not alone. I’d read them and be dumbfounded by the amount of care people could express for a stranger. I was even more dumbfounded by the amount of care the family could express. No matter how hard I tried to blend into the background, to continue my weird, self-isolation from my family they kept firing salvo after salvo of cards and gifts. They’d send me gum, stickers that said, “Fuck Cancer,” (Because as we know cancer is terrified of strong language.), and all manner of sweet, sweet candy treats. There was no way for me to stay off the radar of the people that loved me.  

    I held it together through my first few rounds of chemo. It really didn’t bother me until my hair fell out. Until my fourth round I was feeling like a million bucks. I was getting skinny, I lost a few stray hairs, and I had an actual license to smoke pot. What 24-year-old wouldn’t love that? I was driving to the store to grab a drink and I ran my hand through my hair and it came back in tufts between my fingers. Pulling off the road into an abandoned store’s parking lot I started neurotically, compulsively picking away at my scalp and beard. Handfuls of the stuff coated the front seat of my 03’ Accord but still I couldn’t stop. I watched in horror as my reflection warped in the rearview mirror. I just couldn’t stop. After a half hour of what scholars refer to as, “Going bananas real manic like,” I regained my composure. I drove myself over to a friend’s house and had her shear my head with the clippers her dad used to shave his back. From that day on I was bald. It wasn’t so bad when I got used to it. Every now and then I would get a weird phantom limb sensation, as though I still had a rugged mane of hair, when the breeze blew on my naked scalp.

    I was in and out of the hospital all the time. My guts exploded one time when a tumor responded to the chemo and disappeared. It was what we wanted with the tumor, not so much what we wanted for my intestines. They cut out ten feet of my goop and stitched me back up. I was locked up in the cancer klink for two weeks after that. They had me on a tube and all of my food and fluids came from an IV, except when family or friends were around. They would sneak me a small cup of ice cubes, a rare sip of water, or even, once, a whole bottle of tangerine Bai over a whole night. Even when I was being a real grumpy cancer boy my friends, family, and everybody else would stick it out just to let me know I wasn’t alone. In that exact same stay, a friend of mine actually saved my life because he was able to understand my garbled speech through my nose/mouth tubes. I’d been trying to explain to my nurse that the bile vacuum they had in my guts was pumping my green-black bile back into me but she may have been one of god’s special people. When my friend confirmed that my gunk was being pumped back into me, he snagged somebody. Without that kind of support, I’d have either been dead or in the hooskow weeks longer. Not every situation is bubbling gut ooze but when it is remember to trust those people around you enough to say, “Hey, my bubbling gut ooze vacuum feels like its acting weird. Can you go look at the container the ooze is collecting in and tell me what it’s doing?”

    You’d think that with all this gut busting and chemo I’d be taking it easy. Wrong. I’m a big idiot so instead of resting I kept smoking, went to the bars regularly, and tried my hand at in the DIY rock n’ roll venue game. My nights before chemo were full of putting anything and everything I could inflict on my body. Jumping through tables, mosh pits, and drinking beer bongs to Jean Claude Van Dame flicks were everyday occurrences. I’d been dumb before cancer. With the ability to live a bohemian, YOLO life I did just that. I’d burn the candle at both ends because I didn’t know if there was going to be a tomorrow. Tomorrow always came; usually with a Jimmy Buffet grade hangover. Dumb. I was dumb. I did seven rounds of chemo then stem cell and not once did I let off the gas petal of stupidity.

    But you know what?

    I survived. Against all odds, against odds that I was actively trying to stack against myself, I survived. Was it a miracle sent down from the heavens? Maybe. Was it aliens? I’d like to think so. Was it the constant support of my friends and loved ones coupled with cutting edge, state of the art technology in the hands of the most competent doctors and nurses in the industry even though I was hellbent on dying young and beautiful because I’m an idiot? That’s a run-on sentence. It’s also a pretty good idea of what kept me alive, what will keep you alive. I was full to the brim with cancer while dancing on the brink of self-immolation. If I did everything in my power to give myself the odds of a three-legged horse at the Kentucky Derby what do you think yours are? I bet you take care of yourself at least slightly better. I’d like to think that if I beat cancer there is an infinite amount of hope for you, who is not an idiot with a death wish, to go into remission.

    There will be moments in the dead of night where you doubt your own survival. There will be bright days that you will sleep away. There will be moments where you lay on the floor in the fetal position bathed in hot tears and cold sweat. You will think of what a life without this hell would be like. You will feel like the cards are stacked against you. The, “What if’s,” will mix a cocktail of fatal fear in your skull eating away at your resolve. You will walk into your kitchen and forget for half an hour that you came in there for soup. You will throw that soup up and lay hunched and miserable over the porcelain for an hour. You will wonder who will carry your name? Who will see your babies walk across the stage at graduation?

The answer is you. This may be the worst moment of your life but it will not be the one that defines you. What defines you will be all that comes after this nightmare. With your two hands you will make great works. Gardens resplendent in their rainbow will call your master. You will see the white sands of far off beaches, will feel the artic chill of the frozen wastelands allegedly known as, “Canadia” far to the North. Mortal peril will be replaced with picking up the kids from karate and a gallon of milk. You will watch your children grow and cover this earth like that brand of paint I can’t mention for copyright reasons. As you watch them cross that stage or walk down the aisle you will have at your sides the same faces that did their best to make you smile from your bedside during your weakest moment. Trust in them as you would have them trust in you. They will be your guide when you cannot find yourself, we will be your guide.

[ursprungbuam-blog]

The Lunenburg Folk Harbour Festival

Reuge handgemachte musik music containers are totally handmade. The corporate employs only the finest cabinetmakers in Switzerland and Italy to supply their merchandise, using inlays from over one hundred different types valuable wood imported from all over the world. With regards the musical movement, music is first taken from a piano rating. The music arranger then selects an simply recognizable portion of the score after which transforms it right into a computerized file. When you available in the market to buy top quality music packing containers, there is no such thing as a motive to look any additional than volksmusik österreich bands Reuge.

The historical past of how Reuge Music first began manufacturing beautiful musical time items, music containers, and musical time pieces began with its founder, Charles Reuge in 1865. volksmusik aus österreich free download Reuge was originally a watchmaker from the Val-de-Travers, Switzerland. In 1865 he moved to Sainte-Croix and begins making distinctive and sought after pocket watches with musical actions, and opened a music box "counter" about a 12 months later. In other words, he went from just having a primary workshop to opening a retail store.

At about the same time, nonetheless in 1877, Thomas Edison invented the phonograph, which had somewhat of a unfavorable impression on the whole music box making industry, especially because it grew to become perfected and merchandised Ursprung Buam handgemachte musik for mass distribution. Nonetheless, regardless of Edison's invention, and the forthcoming invention of radio, tv, tape gamers, and digital music players, music containers remain in demand, while the phonograph is antiquated.

During the interwar years, Reuge constructed a new manufacturing unit in Sainte-Croix in 1930, which still in use. By 1960, the corporate directed its efforts towards the luxury gift market, and reintroduced massive musical items, re-establishing itself as a world chief within the manufacture of deluxe musical motion items. Over the subsequent several many years, Reuge expands its market and producer base by buying several firms which specialized in singing birds including Bontems of Paris, Eschle, and in 1991 Cuendet - a producer of cuckoo movements. Different acquisitions included Mélodies SA in 1985, a manufacturer of music containers with Thorens discs. The next 12 months in 1986, Lador was acquired, an organization that specialised in 18-note actions items.

Whereas once owned and operated by Reuge's sons and family, the manufacture of Reuge music boxes was taken over in 1988 by a bunch of Swiss buyers with the intention to modernize and reorganize the corporate financially. In a daring and fiscally motivated transfer, Wikipedia Here the newly reorganized firm purchased the Italian music field provider, Arte Intarsio, whereby giving Ruege full management of its manufacturing. In 2007, Reuge acquired Mermod Frères, a prestigious Swiss watch producer, which was established in 1812.

Shortly thereafter, they produced the Frères Primo 4, a musical wristwatch that performs 4 melodies on four separate disks on demand. The event of this state-of-the-art mechanism took a period of 4 years. Whereas the Frères Primo four comes with four default melodies - "The Magic Flute" (Mozart), "Canon" echte volksmusik aus bayern (Pachelbel), "Danse Hongroise" (Brahms), and the Spring motion from Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons," a purchaser might select to order alternate music disks. For a sampling of music box melodies, including "Canon," you might download appropriate ringtones for your cell phone from the Reuge web site.

Non secular items are one of the most precious stuff you can provide somebody that's religious and non secular. There are numerous decisions to select from, every applicable for different times and points in the persons life. Typically the presents are inspirational and assist the particular person by means of a tricky time, or they'll simply be to make the individual smile.

Angel associated presents are often a fantastic choice for any holiday or occasion. They symbolize guardianship and protection, and ship the proper message to your family members. Angel ornaments are gorgeous for Christmas holidays, and birthdays or even graduations. Angel statues are elegant and deserve a place on a mantel or shelf the place all can see it. Anybody that loves angels will certainly take pleasure in a hand-crafted angel statue from the holy land, and can set it of their home with pride.

Items produced from Olive Wooden are always a wonderful selection as properly. Olive wooden not only seems to be beautiful, but it's also the holy wooden. The olive tree provides a lot for those who dwell in the holy land. It offers people with artwork making provides, cleaning soap, wood burning, oils for meals, the olives can be eaten for well being, and the left webradio volksmusik österreich over shavings might be put in mangers. A gift constructed from olive wooden is the true symbolic gift from Jerusalem. Hand carved olive wood presents are glossy, beautiful, and look very natural and real. They are much totally different from other sorts of picket carvings because they're made with the arms of Christian families that stay in the holy land.

For the woman in your life you can buy a lovely handmade music field. They make an ideal place to store precious valuables and jewelry, and even just for decoration. You'll find music bins that play religiously vital songs that soothe the soul. Jewelry items which Ursprung Buam might be fabricated from olive wooden and beads are additionally beautiful. Rosaries are a nice and authentic present you can give to your mom, grandma, aunt, or cousins. They are certainly rather more meaningful when they're handmade and from the holy lands.

Anointing oils and holy water gifts are additionally a stunning present to give the family members in your life. If you already know they might take pleasure in something like this, then it makes a wonderful Christmas current. Other inspirational presents are stunning and worthy of gifting to household, associates, and those whom you go to church with frequently.

When choosing gifts from the holy land, attempt to find ones that are handmade. It's merely a better option and feels more authentic than ones made in a manufacturing facility. Handmade presents are unique, because every etching is totally different from the last. Ursprung Buam volksmusik österreich They're crafted from the fingers of people who stay in Jerusalem and Bethlehem, and you can nearly feel the love and energy of God coming from the gifts. These spiritual and spiritual items are actually something the recipient will cherish perpetually.

Construct it...and they're going to come. The world is pulsating with beautiful artwork work and artwork products, most of that are handmade or handcrafted. So, what's all of the fuss about? Handmade; in a word. Shopping for handmade art merchandise and visual arts has grow to be so common that whole website marketplace Ursprung Buam tiroler lied venues are available on-line to satisfy the demand. And there are thousands and thousands of highly gifted and skilled artists and artisans prepared to offer the provision. So there you might have it...plenty of handmade artwork to go round and loads of consumers able to plunge into the online purchasing experience.

However there's a caveat. Caveat Emptor to be exact. "Let the Buyer Beware" is a phrase conjured up in Historical Greece, apparently to warn consumers of products that what they purchase is probably continue reading this not as it was bought. So, does it have to be that approach with shopping for handmade stuff online? Not if the Buyer is prudent and slightly educated in the art of buying artwork...online.

Satisfaction and the overall purchasing expertise ranks high on the precedence listing of buyers. However shopping on-line, opposed to shopping a B&M retailer can be difficult. In a Brick and Mortar store buying will be accomplished with physical examination of products and quality judgments are fairly easy to make. Shopping online presents its personal challenges in that digital imagery could be manipulated and a product's appearance could also be refined. So, earlier than shopping for handmade artwork products on-line learn to acknowledge the handmade facet of the objects you propose to buy. With multiple product classes and an unlimited array of products available within those classes it's essential to develop skill sets for them.

If a Purchaser has the "eye of an artist" it will likely be a lot simpler to see indicators that will indicate the product is handmade quite than manufactured. Attempt slightly O.J.T. On the job training is solely, in this case, practicing seeing what you are looking at. Figuring out the handmade aspect of an elk hide handbag over a hand-crafted soap product requires two different ability sets. Recognizing hand stitching on a leather-based product may require less scientific data of the quality of substances in a bar of handmade cleaning soap, however the end end result will be the identical. So change into accustomed to what's in the kind of products you are searching for and make judgments as you store.

Also, the web Purchaser must be internationally open minded. Artwork merchandise and visual arts can tackle quite different dynamics from different elements of the world. In music, for instance, it's like the half tones and whole tones of Western Music in contrast the quarter tones of Japanese Music, the differences are influenced simply by the cultural implications from across the earth.

Another software available to Buyers of art products is to make use of a juried artwork and artist site. The benefit right here is that the artist and/or the art is previewed (juried) by qualified experts earlier than permitting them to record their works on a website. For extra info read the article Evolution of Juried Art in a Digital Age.

Juried websites benefit Buyer and Seller. For Buyers, juried sited create a larger diploma of confidence that the works being purchased are of high quality and are likely to be considered tiroler lieder texte one of a kind. For the Seller Artist, a juried web site tends to take care of a decrease number of listing which is able to make it less competitive to be seen by a Buyer.

A home made web site will categorize and sub-categorize artwork merchandise and visual arts for ease in procuring. The listing artist offers pictures for the gadgets along with an outline of the products and other information concerning the inventive course of concerned in producing the item. Ursprung Buam echte volksmusik Artists and artisans are encouraged to community with one another as well as with Patrons they meet online and can usually be contacted by means of their host site or by direct electronic mail. The relationship constructing course of can also be achieved in social media pages of a web site.

A number of centuries in the past, a home made wind chime was used as a warning system in opposition to intruders. It was also used to chase away birds and evil spirits. In some situations, it was even used to heal the thoughts and body of a person. Over time, it was utilized by emperors and high clergymen during rituals and ceremonies. In countries like Japan and Tibet it's not unusual to see ornamental and intricately made wind/glass chimes round sacred locations. In China, nonetheless, a handmade wind/glass chime was used to determine climate and astrological adjustments. The Chinese also used it in Feng Shui as a result of they believed that it might present steadiness. Furthermore, early wind chimes were made from bamboo, wooden, shells, stones, stained glass, and bones. Then, the Egyptians started making wind chimes from metallic, significantly bronze.

Today, a home made wind chime is especially used for adornment and aesthetic functions. It's often hung round patios, porches, and gardens. It's also held on doorways, so you will know when somebody has entered the room. Throughout the summer, spring, and fall, the beautiful climate and funky breeze makes staying outdoor calm and stress-free. If you happen Here is Social Profile to hearken to the music your wind/glass chimes make, you may even go to sleep! Anyway, the materials used for a handmade wind chime have not modified a lot. Wood, bamboo, shells, stained glass, and stones are still utilized by artisans; but metals such as copper, metal, wrought iron, pewter, aluminum and brass are also getting used aside from bronze.

In case you are a severe collector of wind/glass chimes, you need to think about sound high quality. There are wind chimes which are created to supply great music. They are created in an alto or baritone musical scales. Nonetheless, you possibly can still buy a home made wind chime that quietly dances with the wind. Anyway, a good way to examine for sound high quality is through comparison-procuring. Needless to say a home made wind/glass chime made out of a strong piece is inferior to one that is hole.

A hallow, tubular-formed handmade wind/glass chime multiplies its sound by way of the confined vibrations. As well as, you have to notice that the thickness read the full info here and length of the tubes, as well as the type of supplies used impacts the sound quality of the wind chime. A thicker tube usually produces better sound.

Furthermore, if you wish to hear deep tones, a large handmade wind/glass chime is recommended for you. However, if you prefer softer tones, then you definately better get a smaller wind chime. Also, wind/glass chimes made from www.ursprungbuam.at/ bamboo and delicate metals comparable to copper produce mild and tender sounds. In contrast, hard metals reminiscent of aluminum and steel produce sharp tones. Some small wind chimes create sharp tones, as effectively.