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screensirenfic · 5 years

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Black Leather - Chapter 8

I’d had to wait an additional twenty minutes at Steve’s house, because despite his near fanatical dedication to Farah Faucett; his hair had continued to fall flat.

Lucky for him, Nancy was there, otherwise I would’ve broken down the damn bathroom door and shaved the birds nest off myself.

Eventually; he’d managed to get his hair to a reasonable level of poofiness, and we’d gotten to Tina’s just an hour after the start time on the flyer; fashionably late without it being too busy to make an entrance.

Sitting in the backseat of Steve’s thankfully spacious BMW gave me front row seats to the newfound awkwardness between Hawkins most beloved royal couple.

Despite Steve’s insistence that everything was fine between the pair and that Nancy was just still upset about Barb; I couldn’t help but feel there was a bigger void between them than that. One that was gradually getting bigger by the day, judging by the near complete lack of conversation for the entire car ride over.

He wouldn’t even let me talk to her for him; insisting he could handle it himself, but Steve really didn’t know girls like I did.

There was something big on Nancy’s mind; something that parties and corny jokes alone wasn’t gonna fix.

“That is a lot of carnage...” Steve remarked, drawing my eyes from the world’s slowest relationship train wreck, to the much more literal train wreck outside my window.

The word “carnage” was putting it lightly.

The party had already spilled out onto the street; bodies in varying stages on unconsciousness littering the front lawn like the vast amount of beer cans and bottles surrounding them. Those that were conscious were reveling in a variety of vices, from cigarettes to cheap booze to near all out sex on the AstroTurf. High school partying at its finest.

“Half the school must be here!” Remarked Nancy; eyes wide at the near renaissance painting of absolute debauchery outside.

“You got that right...” Agreed Steve as he slowed his car to park; and if Hawkins High’s keg king said that it was a rager, then she must be right.

Steve eventually found a space just outside Tina’s house; surprising considering the sheer amount of people present, however I guess most people considered a night in Hawkins PD’s cells too steep a price to pay for one night of drinking and dancing.

We got out of the car, and already the music hit our ears at full blast; someone’s parents were gonna get a lot of noise complaints in the morning.

“We Don’t Have To Take Our Clothes Off” was the song of choice, but clearly the song’s message fell on deaf ears, as most of the boys were down to shorts and skins, and the girls in even less.

Steve led the way through the highway to hell, ringing the doorbell to Tina’s, which chimed out in an almost comedic rendition of “Messiah” considering the situation.

Moments later, the door swung open to a smiling Tina, dressed in a skimpy leotard and fishnets, in what must’ve been a cat costume considering the black velvet ears in her perm.

“Steve! Nancy! Love the costumes!” She exclaimed with such enthusiasm; it must’ve been partially forced.

“Risky Business; right?” She asked, taking note on the pair’s cute matching black and white combo.

“And Lola! You’re..?” Her ever expanding smile faltered as she struggled to work out what exactly a tartan miniskirt and a Bon Jovi tank top had to do with Halloween.

“A vampire.” I replied with a fake smile, showing off the plastic fangs glued to my canines. She wasn’t the only one who could feign enthusiasm.

“Well; you all look so great...” She spieled; that plastic smile returning even quicker than it fell.

“Why don’t you come on in and get a drink...” She beckoned us in as she led us further into her temporary den of teenage rebellion.

Costume party could be used very loosely to describe what Tina’s Halloween party was.

People wore costumes alright; ones that made them look sexier, less restrained, more depraved. Anything from a pair of sunglasses, to an oversized bedsheet counted here; and trust me, someone had tried them all. My outfit honestly looked like a nun’s in comparison to some of the other girls.

Since when did lingerie count as a Halloween costume?

“Looks like a good party.” Steve remarked, though I wondered if it was only for our host’s sake.

“Yeah. If you like cheap liquor and herpes...” I muttered, earning myself a chuckle from him; so we were on the same page.

I glanced around the room, unable to believe people had managed to get this fucked up in an hour. There had to be some pregaming, or a high amount of class C drugs involved; definitely drugs, judging by the smoke in the air.

I was definitely gonna have to do the laundry before dad got home.

My eyes glanced over to the living room where some jock was spread out on the coffee table, whilst a line of cheerleaders did body shots off his chest.

I was definitely gonna need a drink to get through tonight.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink...” I told Steve, not waiting for a response as I slipped through the crowd towards the kitchen and what would hopefully be semi drinkable booze.

—————————————————

The liquor was shitty; the punch wasn’t much better, but still better to suffer the taste and be drunk, than suffer the company sober.

God knew there was nothing worse than being the only sober one in a crowd of drunks.

Steve had long abandoned me for his princess, in yet another attempt to drown an underlying uneasiness with cheap alcohol and fake happiness. Jonathan was a no show, but there was no surprises there, and I was kinda wishing I’d done the same, even if it’d cost me my left ear to Steve’s nagging.

The only consolation was that Billy Hargrove hadn’t spoken to me once. It was quite possible he hadn’t even noticed me; he was so sucked into the superficial cloud of party popularity that seemed to circle him like a storm.

Every girl in their fake leather biker boots and discount rack leather jackets was hanging off him, in a poor attempt to act as my replacement; as if being the resident basket case was as simple as smudging on a bit of eyeliner and smoking more Camels than usual.

I don’t think Billy was convinced; his mind so preoccupied with stealing Steve’s crown that he didn’t have time to think about getting laid.

No doubt when he came back down to earth; I’d be the first person he’d have in mind to help with that little problem.

But for now; my night looked relatively sleaze free. No one had tried to hit on me since Billy had taken an interest; probably valued their molars too much for that.

It’s strange to think that despite my total disdain for Billy and the clear message that I’d rather eat my own fingernails than date him; people still acted like he had some sort of “reservation” over me, as if I was unofficially “his girl”.

Right now, the man in question was challenging the royal reign of keg king; a position previously held by Steve, before Nancy had him saddled and bridled.

Even I had to admit; Billy Hargrove made quite the Lancelot to Steve’s Arthur. Billy had Steve in term of upper body strength; his keg stand lasting twice as long as Steve’s had, without any of the signature unsteadiness.

The keg court already loved him, counting down with unrivalled enthusiasm and chanting Billy’s name as if he’d just won a championship belt.

He’d even managed to steal Steve’s right hand man; Tommy H naturally taking his place behind the new alpha male, reminding me of a snappy hyena at his heels.

Billy’s keg stand finished on a impressive count of forty two; him touching ground soon after and spraying the crowd with lukewarm beer.

“That’s how you do it; Hawkins! That’s how you do it!” He yelled triumphantly, in that moment seeming more of a celebrity than the cocky asshole with a Camaro.

Even I had to admit that Billy seemed different tonight.

Maybe it was the punch talking, or the overall excitement of the crowd as they practically worshipped him like a god, but he just seemed larger than life.

He’d styled his hair different; his curls actually holding shape, rather than just falling into a dirty blonde mess. He also followed the crowd in terms of forgoing a shirt; just a leather jacket draped over his impressively built torso.

I could see why the other girls went crazy over him. Everything about him screamed dominance and raw testosterone.

Now Billy was walking my direction and I was running low on punch and confidence.

Yes; originally I’d planned to play the role of tease tonight, and drive Billy crazy with what he could see, but couldn’t touch. But he was forty two seconds of beer down and pumped up on the adoration of half the school, so I was having second thoughts.

Sober Billy was fun to tease, if not a little over persistent; drunk Billy was an unfamiliar entity that could turn out to be downright dangerous.

So I made my exit, slipping back into the crowd and relative anonymity.

—————————————

The kitchen looked like it had become the first fatality of what was sure to be a deadly night of binge drinking and bad decisions.

The tile floor now closely resembled a a swimming pool, complete with indeterminate objects that I had no intention of inspecting swimming on the surface.

The kitchen counters looked like the world’s largest game of beer pong, cups of various colours and fullness on every available inch of clear space. I didn’t even want to know what was in some of them; the smell of them strong enough to hit you from across the room.

I’d managed to find Steve and Nancy again earlier, though it was clear Nancy was well in her cups, and Steve was trying desperately to stop her from becoming any deeper.

I’d managed to convince her into trying something that didn’t have enough of an alcohol content to sedate a horse, but it seemed Tina had stockpiled just as many mixers as booze; though the former seemed vastly less popular.

I made my way back through the thick of the crowd, wanting to make sure I got Nancy something that’d actually stay down, rather than end up painted across the front of her sweater. I could already see the top of Steve’s hair, rising high above the crowd like a homing beacon; at least it wasn’t completely useless.

“Hey Nance; do you want soda or...” I began, threading through the crowd towards them, when I suddenly realised they weren’t alone.

I felt like I’d walked on set in the middle of one of those Wild West movies my dad liked to watch; the sheriff facing off against the stranger in black.

Billy stood nearly chest to chest with Steve, looking as if he was moments away from flooring him, but at the sound of my voice his focus shifted; his demeanour no less predatory.

“Lola...” He purred, with a smirk that made me feel like he was undressing me with words alone. Up close I could see the evidence of his keg stand running down his tanned chest; slick trails threading between his taught abs.

Still; I kept stony, not trusting Billy in the slightest.

“Hargrove.” I spat; arms crossed over my chest in a way hoped said back off, but may have came across as nervous.

His smirk spread across his face; eyes falling to trail over my body, stopping at all the strategic points along the way.

”Like the costume...” He commented, wetting his lips as if I was desert on a platter. “Just like I imagined.”

I could already figure out exactly what he’d imagined, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t include clothes.

“Thanks.” I forced a smile faker than Tina’s attitude; dry and bitter just like half the booze on offer at this shithole of a party.

Still; Steve wasn’t gonna just stand around whilst Billy stared at me as if I was something from his private Playboy collection; the usurped king was instead experiencing a serious case of white knight syndrome.

“Hey; why don’t you back the hell off...” Steve warned, stepping forwards between me and Billy, so Billy could no longer blatantly leer at me.

It didn’t put his successor off in the slightest; Billy stepping past Steve as if he was an inanimate object to continue to proposition me.

“Why don’t you come and have a dance with me?” He asked with one of those smiles that made Tina turn into a shivering puddle of hormones.

“I’ll pass.” I replied with another dry smile, then turned to make a swift exit before he could come up with another bullshit reason to waste my time and my patience.

“Come on; sweetheart...” He purred, and I felt his hand lock around my wrist; not painfully so, but just firm enough to tell me that I’d leave when he let me, and not a moment sooner.

I gave him a dark look, because really? He was gonna try this with me?

But before I could give him the verbal lashing of a lifetime; Steve beat me to it, ripping Billy’s hand from my wrist with more force than I thought was possible for the doe eyed brunette.

“Dude; she said no!” Steve said, and despite his gentle chastisement; his face and tone told him that he wasn’t messing around.

But neither was Billy. He turned to Steve; his former aggression returning as quickly as it left.

“I’m sorry; I wasn’t aware you were her boyfriend...” Spat Billy; already ready to open an entire new can of worms and with it, let out a whole lot of alcohol infused testosterone.

Steve wasn’t gonna take it; though sometimes I really wish he would.

I really didn’t need saving; I’m goddamn Lola Hopper. Boys like Billy Hargrove should shit themselves when I approached.

But Steve; always the hero, came at him with all the verbal reasoning that Billy had no patience for.

“Just because she’s not my girlfriend; doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you drag her around like-“

But Billy truly didn’t have the patience or the mental capacity. He was half a keg in and looking for a fight.

Steve never got to finish his argument; Billy slamming him hard against the wall like some freshman, and not the previous reigning keg king.

“Excuse me?” Billy growled; his voice low and threatening, and really doing more for me than his sleazy flirting, but I had more important things to worry about than how Billy’s temper was a turn on!

My best friend was about to become an interestingly shaped stain on Tina’s parents’ wallpaper.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, Harrington?” Billy’s voice dropped another octave; his body inches away from Steve’s and although he didn’t touch him,

I knew he was seconds away from knocking the noble idiot unconscious.

Even then, Steve couldn’t take a hint. Always honourable; he was prepared to go down fighting, but I wasn’t ready to see him become a martyr.

“Billy; I’ve changed my mind...” I quickly thought on my feet, slipping between the two of them in the vain hope that the possibility of physical contact on the table was enough to shake Billy out of his rage.

“I think I want that dance...” I forced a pretty smile, grabbing his wrist softly in the hope he might unclench his fists in favour of touching me again.

It wasn’t working. Billy was far too worked up; it was if I was invisible. So I moved a bit closer; letting my body brush up against his as I slipped my hand down to grab his.

“Come on; Billy. He’s not worth it...” I whispered; my voice just husky enough to hold a little promise.

“But I might be...” I gave him an impish smile; all raw sexuality and desire, one that I’d of previously thrown up at the prospect of exchanging with Billy Hargrove.

To my great relief; he relaxed, his shoulders lowering and his jaw unclenching. His hand wrapped around my own, squeezing with just a little bit of pressure; a reluctant retreat on the condition that I upheld my end of the bargain.

I took him by the hand and pulled him away from Steve, heading towards the dance floor and hopefully putting as much distance between the two alphas as possible.

But even now; Steve wouldn’t relent, stepping forward ready to defend my honour.

“Lola; you don’t have to...” He petitioned, as if I wasn’t doing this to protect him.

“It’s fine, Steve.” I reassured him, making the words more forceful than necessary in case his dumb overprotective brain continued to reject self preservation.

But of course; my pushy prospective dance partner couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“Yeah, Steve; it’s fine.” He mimicked; his smirk so full of venom, I’m surprised it didn’t melt his pretty face off.

At last, Steve relented, letting me lead my volatile pretty boy onto the dance floor without blood on his knuckles.

————————————

Surprisingly; Billy was actually a semi decent dance partner. He kept rhythm well enough and gave me enough room that I didn’t feel he was trying to hump me in front of the whole school.

We were two songs down; “Dancing With Myself” pumping through the overdriven sound system, and I hadn’t once accidentally-on-purpose tried to step on Billy’s toes.

If I was to be painfully honest, and believe me; admitting this was painful, I was actually enjoying dancing with Billy.

When he wasn’t so heavily focused on appearing the bad boy, he was actually pretty cool. He smiled more often; a genuine warm smile that was nothing like that sleazy grin he used on me all the time. He was actually cute.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asked after spinning me under his arm for the third time tonight; and I’m not sure if it was the dizziness or the alcohol, but I was actually beginning to feel giddy.

“Yeah; why?” I replied with a smile; my gaze getting lost in those bright baby blues that were staring at me with something other than lust.

“It’s just; it’s been half an hour and you haven’t threatened to shiv me with a beer bottle...” He joked; yeah, actually joked, with a wide smile on his face.

And God! His face just lit up when he was being genuinely funny and not an ass; and for a split second I was hit with the almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him.

Almost uncontrollable. I reigned it in at the last minute; not trusting my tipsy brain to have that much control, at least not when it came to Billy Hargrove.

I bit my lip instead; feeling an honest to God blush spread across my cheeks.

“Shut up once in a while and it might happen more often...” I retorted, lowering my voice just enough that he could tell his joke hit right.

He just smiled, and my pulse just skipped another beat as he swept me into another spin; happy just to keep his body close to mine for the remainder of the night.

#stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things fandom #stranger things2 #fanfiction #fanfic #strangerthingsfanfiction #strangerthingsfanfic #original character #stranger things oc #strangerthings oc #jim hopper daughter #hopper daughter #Billy Hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #Nancy Wheeler

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tisfan · 5 years

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Get out of Jail, Free

Title: Get out of Jail, Free Collaborators: @27dragons and @tisfan AO3 Link Square Filled: O4 - Trope: Imprisoned Together Ship: WinterIron Rating: Teen Major Tags: jail, public drunkenness, petty crime, blind date Summary: Tony’s blind date never showed up. Now he’s in jail with a terrible hangover and a gorgeous cellmate... Word Count: 1,695 Created for @mcukinkbingo

“Morning, sunshine,” someone said, absently jostling Tony’s elbow. “Look, you have to wake up if you want coffee, they won’t let me hold it for ya.”

“Coffee?” At least, that’s what Tony intended to say. It probably came out more like, “Cffmrf?” Tony peeled one eye open -- fuck, there was a light right over his goddamn head sonovabitch. He squeezed it shut again, but now he could smell the coffee.

It smelled half-burnt and lightly metallic, the sort of over-roasted crap beans that had been ground and then left out for hours until they were stale and then mixed with tepid tap water. Every mouthful was going to result in crunching grounds between his teeth.

He needed it. Desperately.

He shoved one hand under himself and pushed up. The change of position made his head throb so hard he could hear each surge of blood through his veins. “‘M up,” he mumbled. “Coffee?”

“Come on, sit up, hold your hand out-- yeah, a little to the left. Watch the--” Tony jammed his fingers right into something hard, cold, and metal. “--bars. There you go.”

Someone practically shoved a flimsy styrofoam cup into his hand, the sort of shitty thing you got at a Sunday afternoon church buffet. It wouldn’t have even done shit to keep from burning his fingers, except it seemed lukewarm at best.

“Okay, now, pull it straight back,” the guy said, sounding amused. A hand curled around his wrist and guided the cup to Tony’s mouth like he was a toddler.

Tony would’ve been vastly offended by that, except for how he might have actually needed the help. He took a swig of the coffee -- yep, chewing on the grounds already -- and pried his eyelid open again.

There were metal bars in front of him. Outside the bars, a cinderblock wall painted institutional beige. Tony squinted at it and tried to put the pieces together.

A burly guy in a cop’s uniform walked past, not bothering to glance Tony’s way.

“I’m in jail,” Tony observed. Fuck. He took another gulp of the coffee, trying not to taste it, and wracked his brain in search of some recent memories.

(more under the cut)

“Oh yeah,” the guy said. “Not sure if it’s the hangover or the crack t’ the skull that’s got you looking like undead movie star material, but that is, indeed, where you are. Holding cell, really. Just until someone comes and gets your ass. Assuming, of course, that someone will.”

“That might depend,” Tony said, “on how exactly I wound up here.” Shitty though the coffee was, the caffeine was beginning to leach into his bloodstream. He was getting flashes of memory.

The blind date that he’d been stood up for. Deciding to have a consolation drink. Or three. And then a “fuck dating anyway” drink. And then-- “Oh, hell, someone let me have tequila.” Well, that explained the head.

“Given that you’re of age, and your wallet had quite a number of shiny credit cards in it,” the guy said, “I expect you let yourself have tequila. And I wasn’t spying, they processed both of us at the same time.”

“Tequila is never a good idea for me,” Tony said glumly. Honestly, if he’d gotten low enough to have the bartender break out the tequila shots, he was a little surprised things weren’t worse. He turned his head to tell his cellmate that and froze in shock, mouth hanging open. The guy was drop-dead gorgeous. Long hair, just a little wavy, looked soft as hell. Blue-gray eyes that were crinkled in amusement. A mouth that just begged to be kissed (and more). “Uh.”

Tony made himself blink and shake it off. Pretty people weren’t that hard to find, even if he hadn’t expected to meet anyone quite this beautiful in a jail cell. “So, uh. Since they booked us together... don’t suppose you overheard what I actually did to get arrested, did you?”

The guy laughed. “I did. Saw it, s’matter of fact. Urinating in public. Which is good, because there was talk about it being indecent exposure and some sort of sexual harassment charges, which comes with all sorts of mandatory ‘sex offender’ registration shit. But the cops blew the guy off as being full of himself.”

“There was a guy?” Tony grimaced and rubbed at his face. Shit. Maybe it was the blind date, showing up three hours late? Or just some random asshole. Not that it mattered. “Fuck.”

“No, trust me on this,” the guy said. “This dude, you do not want to fuck.”

Tony sputtered a laugh, and how the hell was it fair for this guy to be so gorgeous and funny? “No, probably not,” he agreed. “Though I’m going to go ahead and guess that my assistant is going to let me cool my heels for a while before she comes for me. She’s a firm believer in punishment.” Tony sighed and swallowed down the last of the crappy coffee. “So what’d you do?”

“I uh, mighta punched Justin Hammer in the face,” the guy said. “In my defense, I didn’t know it was Justin Hammer. Probably just as well. If I’d known it was Justin Hammer, I’d have hit him with my left arm.” The guy shifted his shoulder slightly, showing off a shiny metal prosthetic, a power-capping bracelet attached to his wrist.

“You... you punched Justin Hammer,” Tony repeated. “In the face. And you have gorgeous hardware. You are my new best friend.”

“Certainly both of us are not beloved by Justin Hammer,” the guy said. “After I punched him? You pissed on his car. I uh… think the top was down. Pretty sure, in fact.”

“I did?” Tony brightened. “Totally worth jail time. And maybe even the hangover. Do I want to know why you punched Justin Hammer? If you didn’t know it was him at the time, I have to assume you have not also been screwed out of good business by his sleazebucket smarm.”

“He, uh, used a nine-iron on my car’s window when I wouldn’t give up my parking space for him,” the guy said. “It was totally surreal, like Jack Nicholson bullshit. And then he asked me if I got kicked out of the Army for bein’ a fag.”

Yeah, that sounded like Hammer all over. “Oh, Justin, you little scamp,” Tony tsked. “In that case, I dedicate my desecration of his car to you and queer soldiers everywhere.”

“Not sure how I can put that on a resume, but I'll take it,” he said. “So, fellow Justin Hammer hater, what's your name, anyway? I missed that part of your booking. I'm James Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky, so you totally can.”

Tony offered his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Bucky. I’m Tony Stark.”

“Huh,” Bucky said. “I know someone who knows you-- sorry I didn't recognize you. The hangover, probably. Sorry.”

Tony waved it off. “You’d be surprised how often people don’t recognize me without all the makeup and airbrushing. Who do we know in common?” It was probably a dead end -- a middle-manager at SI or maybe someone who’d sat in on a conference or something and not anyone Tony actually knew personally, but what else did he have to do while he waited for Pepper to decide he’d suffered enough? He’d had worse days, honestly, than making small talk with a hot guy, even if it was in a holding cell.

“Oh, it's--” Bucky stood up suddenly, “Nat! It's about time you got here.”

Natasha Romanov strode in, not looking anything like her usual self, wearing pink pajama pants, sneakers, and a tank top that said I haven't been the same since that house fell on my sister. “Oh. I should have known.”

“Natasha?” Bucky’s mystery friend was Natasha? “Before you take Bucky here off into the sunset -- sunrise, whatever -- I’m registering a complaint, Romanov. I don’t know what you told that friend of yours that you set me up with, but he didn’t show. At all. So all of this is somehow your fault.”

“What are you talking about, you both got drunk and assaulted Hammer, which, truth be told, will make a funny story-- I didn’t get it wrong, you two are made for each other.”

Tony froze. Beside him, he could feel Bucky doing the same thing. “Bucky was my date?” It might have come out a little squeaky. He was blaming it on the hangover.

“Oh, god,” Bucky said, covering his mouth with his hand. “They took your jacket-- you were supposed to be wearing a red and silver pocket square. I didn’t even--”

Tony stared at Bucky. Then he looked at Natasha, whose wide-eyed confusion was rapidly giving way to hilarity. Then he looked back at Bucky.

“I didn’t even need to set you up,” Natasha said, giggling from behind her hand. “I just needed to get you in the same general area.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, then loftily ignored her. “So, Bucky,” he said. “Once cupid here springs us -- breakfast?”

“I could do breakfast,” Bucky said. “Don’t suppose we can impose on you to bail Tony out, too?”

“I bail him out, you and I are even on the Budapest thing?”

“That’s Clint’s debt-- you and he remember Budapest very differently,” Bucky said. “But sure. Even. We’ll go with that.”

“You... you know the Budapest story?” Tony had spent years trying to cajole that story out of Natasha.

“You know, you can stay in jail,” Natasha said. “If I know Pepper, she’s getting a mani-pedi and her hair done before she comes down here to get you out.”

“I know the Budapest story,” Bucky confirmed. “Let us out, or I’ll tell it right here. Really loudly.”

“This is the best day of my life,” Tony announced. The cop unlocking the cell door gave him a sideways look, but Tony didn’t even care.

Nat watched them both file out. “I… might have made a drastic mistake here.”

“Nope, I think you did just fine,” Bucky said, sidling up to Tony and bumping his shoulder.

Tony grinned. “Bucky, I think this is the start of something beautiful.”

#mcukinkbingo #winteriron #tony x bucky

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prouxvaire · 3 years

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Drinking Beer & Building Shit: Donkey Shelters

First, a warning: Sad farm shit ahead.

About this time last year, I walked out to the barn one morning and found the older of my two donkeys, Doc, laying unresponsive on the ground. He was alive, but barely. The vet lives just down the road and was able to make it out to us quickly–so I didn’t have to wait long for help and a diagnosis–but it wasn’t good news. Doc had some kind of stroke or other neurological event in the early hours of the morning. He was blind, unable to stand up, not responsive to outside stimuli, and very clearly suffering.

I’m not a person who puts down an animal easily or lightly, but in this case, there was no question about whether or not it was the right decision. And it still really sucked.

My only consolation is that it was the best case scenario in a shitty situation. If the stroke happened in the middle of the night and I came out to find a dead donkey in the barn in the morning, I never would have known what caused it (and then would have been in a full-on panic about whether or not he got into something toxic, or if there was some kind of electrical hazard, or all of the million other scenarios I would blame myself for.) Or if the symptoms had been less severe, I might have held on longer than I should have and he would have suffered needlessly.

And he was, in fact, an old donkey. An old donkey who had a good life here causing trouble and escaping fences, and generally giving me a run for my money in the “who can be the grumpiest old man on the farm” contest.

So, losing him was fucking sad.

It was two hours of pure crisis, adrenaline, sorrow, and then, when it was over and the vet was driving away, I turned back to the barn and realized… it was not actually over. Because there was a 300lb dead donkey in the barn. In December (When the ground is typically frozen… i.e not ideal for farm burials.)

Let me say again, for the record, how fucking sad this was. And, also, a completely different set of logistics than when, say, a beloved family pet like a dog or cat dies.

Anyway, my mom showed up with a case of beer and we got the thing done, but, let me just say… not the most fun part of farm life. (Possibly related note: I own a set of bucket forks and have access to a backhoe tractor attachment now.)

So, that is the very sad part of this story.

It’s also relevant to note that at this point in time I was just maxed the fuck out on “tasks”. There was almost a whole year of life there that just felt like a neverending set of tasks that sucked the life out of me and brought me no joy or energy. (Probably worth analyzing, but not in this post.) Finding a new donkey to integrate into the farm was an endeavour fraught with tasks, when my tank was already running on empty.

At the same time, donkeys are social animals (you can’t just have a single donkey in a pasture by itself… that’s torture.)

So–ignoring everything else going on in the world in early 2020–even just on the farm, both Parker and I were struggling.

Initially the way we handled this was just by opening the gates to the pasture and letting Parks hang out wherever he pleased…

When it was Parker and Doc together, the pasture escapes invariably ended up with me chasing both of them back from down the road like a crazy person (and, on one memorable occasion, getting dragged through a field by a donkey on the run, true story) … but Parker alone just wanted to hang out and be closer to the “action”. (i.e. whatever I had going on)

(In another life I would definitely have a pasture closer to the house and more integrated with the back yard. Donkeys like being a part of stuff.)

But, come summer, I couldn’t ignore that Parker needed more donkey friends (and that getting him donkey friends was going to mean a lot more work for me.)

One of my good (human) friends found a donkey rescue about an hour away, and the director of that donkey rescue convinced me to adopt 3 new bonded donkeys.

That’s a mom (Marianne), her boyfriend (Guy), and her daughter (Zoey.)

Parker was super excited to meet them at first. But they had been spending most of their time in a pasture with 20 other donkeys, so they were actually more excited for wide open spaces and grass, than to hang out with Parker.

Also, Parker took a liking to Marianne, and Guy took exception to a dude hitting on his girlfriend… and I had a regular donkey love triangle on my hands.

It became clear, quickly, that all of them could not share a pasture. Also, there was a fencing shortage in 2020 because… reasons. I guess everyone was building fences and using a lot of toilet paper in quarantine?

I rigged up two different versions of a “fence” that the donkeys basically just laughed at and jumped over about 30 seconds after I thought I was done. (Did not know donkeys were jumpers before this… fun fact for me.) Then my mom took over with the help of my neighbor and rigged up, well, this thing…

And I’m going to say it was 67% effective, because one third of the donkeys figured out how to do this…

You really have to watch that thing to the end… it is astounding.

(If this post is starting to feel like an epic saga, imagine what it was like to live the thing.)

Anyway, efficacy of the fence notwithstanding, I needed another shelter (aka run-in) for the donkeys, since they all couldn’t share space in the barn without a lot of aggression. Which meant this mess had to go…

I built this addition/annex to the chicken run back in 2017 when my chickens were being mysteriously killed. (By, it turned out, a dog that lives down the road, and was slipping the fence when the batteries on his electric collar went out.)It looked a lot better then.

For the most part, since the dog was secured, the chicken run (and annex) have only been used periodically. And, in the meantime, have collected a lot of weeds. So…

Goodbye chicken run annex.

So many “helpers” on the farm.

There’s some old barn foundation in this area so I used tapcons and the sheer force of my will to hold the posts in place for this build. Then tied it in to the existing barn “framing”. (I use that term loosely because that barn is older than all of us.)

Still holds up though.

The roofing I used on the chicken run was basically corrugated asphalt, which I know, sounds weird…but it’s cheap, easy to install, and good for scrappy farm structures. For these purposes I want general shelter, but nothing needs to be weatherproof obviously.

Not going to lie, it takes a soft (and accurate) touch with a hammer to install this stuff, because if you miss the nail it’s super easy to put a hole in.) Perhaps best installed sans beer? I wouldn’t know.

Fun fact about corrugated asphalt roofing… I guess it’s delicious?

I wouldn’t know, BUT THE DONKEYS WOULD.

Generally I have no complaints about this roofing except for one thing… between the time I built the chicken run and the time I built the addition, they changed the size of their sheets from 4×6 to 3×6 (and also were straight out of the color gray this summer.) So I ended up short a panel and also now I have a multi-colored barn roof.

Normally this shit would drive me nuts, but honestly… 2020 was exhausting.

This run-in has one wall open to the north, and the west side was finished off with pine planks.

While the intent was to provide shade and shelter in late summer and fall, it’s not appropriate for an all-season shelter in Michigan.

So while that was a good weekend project last summer, I also had to do some modifications in the barn to have a split stall.

This was the existing set-up:

Although just for reference, this was the setup back in 2013 when I first decided to adopt donkeys:

So, marked improvement.

But it was not enough space for ALL the donkeys, particularly ALL the donkeys that did not get along. So.

The back wall came out, and I created a flexible “stall” by adding a fence gate (so the barn can be one stall or two, with a second entry through an old man-door on the north side of the barn.)

Let me just say, it required a lot of “creative” engineering… (creative = beer, just FYI.)

So, good news, it kind of worked, in that all of this effort did manage to keep my one lonely donkey separated from the three larger donkeys who wanted to bully him. But it didn’t work in that the whole point of this endeavor was for Parker not to be One Lonely Donkey.

Marianne, Zoe, and Guy would be incredible donkeys for anyone who either had an established herd or were just adopting those three alone (they were super friendly and great with people… also, hilarious) but, in this case, were not good friends for Parker, and also (if it wasn’t clear) a metric fuckton of work for me.

Honestly, the thing that is obvious now (and really should have been obvious then) is that you can’t bring 3 bonded donkeys into a space with one single donkey and expect everyone to be friends. After two months with only increased aggression toward Parker I decided I couldn’t foster the 3 larger donkeys any longer, and instead sent my mom on a mission to find one other lonely male donkey that might be less aggressive and more likely to bond with Parker.

So…

Meet Nigel.

Nigel and Parker spent 3 weeks in separate pastures, but are now living together on the farm like a couple of grumpy old men. (Which makes three of us.)

And listen, dealing with donkey drama really was the least of anyone’s concerns (including mine) in 2020, but still, it was exhausting.

Anway, we got through it…

Welcome to the farm, buddy.

from https://ift.tt/3cKFmAS

0 notes

sureyhny · 3 years

Text

Drinking Beer & Building Shit: Donkey Shelters

First, a warning: Sad farm shit ahead.

I’m not a person who puts down an animal easily or lightly, but in this case, there was no question about whether or not it was the right decision. And it still really sucked.

So, losing him was fucking sad.

Let me say again, for the record, how fucking sad this was. And, also, a completely different set of logistics than when, say, a beloved family pet like a dog or cat dies.

So, that is the very sad part of this story.

At the same time, donkeys are social animals (you can’t just have a single donkey in a pasture by itself… that’s torture.)

So–ignoring everything else going on in the world in early 2020–even just on the farm, both Parker and I were struggling.

Initially the way we handled this was just by opening the gates to the pasture and letting Parks hang out wherever he pleased…

(In another life I would definitely have a pasture closer to the house and more integrated with the back yard. Donkeys like being a part of stuff.)

But, come summer, I couldn’t ignore that Parker needed more donkey friends (and that getting him donkey friends was going to mean a lot more work for me.)

One of my good (human) friends found a donkey rescue about an hour away, and the director of that donkey rescue convinced me to adopt 3 new bonded donkeys.

That’s a mom (Marianne), her boyfriend (Guy), and her daughter (Zoey.)

Also, Parker took a liking to Marianne, and Guy took exception to a dude hitting on his girlfriend… and I had a regular donkey love triangle on my hands.

And I’m going to say it was 67% effective, because one third of the donkeys figured out how to do this…

You really have to watch that thing to the end… it is astounding.

(If this post is starting to feel like an epic saga, imagine what it was like to live the thing.)

For the most part, since the dog was secured, the chicken run (and annex) have only been used periodically. And, in the meantime, have collected a lot of weeds. So…

Goodbye chicken run annex.

So many “helpers” on the farm.

Still holds up though.

Fun fact about corrugated asphalt roofing… I guess it’s delicious?

I wouldn’t know, BUT THE DONKEYS WOULD.

Normally this shit would drive me nuts, but honestly… 2020 was exhausting.

This run-in has one wall open to the north, and the west side was finished off with pine planks.

While the intent was to provide shade and shelter in late summer and fall, it’s not appropriate for an all-season shelter in Michigan.

So while that was a good weekend project last summer, I also had to do some modifications in the barn to have a split stall.

This was the existing set-up:

Although just for reference, this was the setup back in 2013 when I first decided to adopt donkeys:

So, marked improvement.

But it was not enough space for ALL the donkeys, particularly ALL the donkeys that did not get along. So.

The back wall came out, and I created a flexible “stall” by adding a fence gate (so the barn can be one stall or two, with a second entry through an old man-door on the north side of the barn.)

Let me just say, it required a lot of “creative” engineering… (creative = beer, just FYI.)

So…

Meet Nigel.

Nigel and Parker spent 3 weeks in separate pastures, but are now living together on the farm like a couple of grumpy old men. (Which makes three of us.)

And listen, dealing with donkey drama really was the least of anyone’s concerns (including mine) in 2020, but still, it was exhausting.

Anway, we got through it…

Welcome to the farm, buddy.

from Home Improvement http://diydiva.net/2021/02/drinking-beer-building-shit-donkey-shelters/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

andrewysanders · 3 years

Text

Drinking Beer & Building Shit: Donkey Shelters

First, a warning: Sad farm shit ahead.

I’m not a person who puts down an animal easily or lightly, but in this case, there was no question about whether or not it was the right decision. And it still really sucked.

So, losing him was fucking sad.

Let me say again, for the record, how fucking sad this was. And, also, a completely different set of logistics than when, say, a beloved family pet like a dog or cat dies.

So, that is the very sad part of this story.

At the same time, donkeys are social animals (you can’t just have a single donkey in a pasture by itself… that’s torture.)

So–ignoring everything else going on in the world in early 2020–even just on the farm, both Parker and I were struggling.

Initially the way we handled this was just by opening the gates to the pasture and letting Parks hang out wherever he pleased…

(In another life I would definitely have a pasture closer to the house and more integrated with the back yard. Donkeys like being a part of stuff.)

But, come summer, I couldn’t ignore that Parker needed more donkey friends (and that getting him donkey friends was going to mean a lot more work for me.)

One of my good (human) friends found a donkey rescue about an hour away, and the director of that donkey rescue convinced me to adopt 3 new bonded donkeys.

That’s a mom (Marianne), her boyfriend (Guy), and her daughter (Zoey.)

Also, Parker took a liking to Marianne, and Guy took exception to a dude hitting on his girlfriend… and I had a regular donkey love triangle on my hands.

And I’m going to say it was 67% effective, because one third of the donkeys figured out how to do this…

You really have to watch that thing to the end… it is astounding.

(If this post is starting to feel like an epic saga, imagine what it was like to live the thing.)

For the most part, since the dog was secured, the chicken run (and annex) have only been used periodically. And, in the meantime, have collected a lot of weeds. So…

Goodbye chicken run annex.

So many “helpers” on the farm.

Still holds up though.

Fun fact about corrugated asphalt roofing… I guess it’s delicious?

I wouldn’t know, BUT THE DONKEYS WOULD.

Normally this shit would drive me nuts, but honestly… 2020 was exhausting.

This run-in has one wall open to the north, and the west side was finished off with pine planks.

While the intent was to provide shade and shelter in late summer and fall, it’s not appropriate for an all-season shelter in Michigan.

So while that was a good weekend project last summer, I also had to do some modifications in the barn to have a split stall.

This was the existing set-up:

Although just for reference, this was the setup back in 2013 when I first decided to adopt donkeys:

So, marked improvement.

But it was not enough space for ALL the donkeys, particularly ALL the donkeys that did not get along. So.

The back wall came out, and I created a flexible “stall” by adding a fence gate (so the barn can be one stall or two, with a second entry through an old man-door on the north side of the barn.)

Let me just say, it required a lot of “creative” engineering… (creative = beer, just FYI.)

So…

Meet Nigel.

Nigel and Parker spent 3 weeks in separate pastures, but are now living together on the farm like a couple of grumpy old men. (Which makes three of us.)

And listen, dealing with donkey drama really was the least of anyone’s concerns (including mine) in 2020, but still, it was exhausting.

Anway, we got through it…

Welcome to the farm, buddy.

from Home http://diydiva.net/2021/02/drinking-beer-building-shit-donkey-shelters/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

#home

0 notes

my-tas-modern-world-history-blog · 6 years

Text

Final review of the Vietnam War

All have come to an end, we have watched the last episode of the Vietnam War. The “real” face has been revealed, all behind those American promises have been answered. I never expect those dumb Americans were good at acting, they set up this fucking Communist drama, helping the South of Vietnam, and then leave. Who would have guessed the Americans were good at “playing games” on Vietnam.

Episode Summary: Episode 10 was mostly talking about how the Americans retreat from Vietnam and stop providing aids and weapons to the S. Vietnam. March 29th, 1973 the last American troops left South Vietnam, less than 200 Marines would remain, assigned to guard consular offices in the American Embassy and other installations in Saigon. Thousands of other Americans including CIA agents diplomats and contractors stayed behind as well. Vietnamese people were set to the beginning again and fight for their own lives. A new agreement is being made to end the war and create peace that signed in Paris on January 27th. The South Vietnamese president named Nguyen Van Thieu insisted to hold every inch of the South Vietnam land without the support of the American troops. Meanwhile, the North Vietnamese had attacked Tay Ninh, trying to establish a capital of their own in the south. Hanoi installed surface-to-air missiles near Khe Sanh just below the DMZ. Nixon had privately promised President Thieu that he would support with American air power if Saigon ever seemed seriously threatened. But in the end, all they abandon the South Vietnamese when all they provided only money that putting South Vietnamese people into danger. President Nixon resigned due to the Watergate issues, so the new president has been selected, President Gerald Ford. The equipment being provided by President Nixon cannot be used like aircraft that which there were no trained pilots or ground crews. Artillery and military vehicles for which there were no spare parts and the US Congress was in no mood to provide more. Fuel and bullets are running low, they can only fire 85 bullets per month. North Vietnamese troops now going strong with capturing the central highland of the South of Vietnam. Every city is being collapsed pretty quickly because of the lack of weapons and troops. 1975, North Vietnamese entered Da Nang (South Vietnam’s second largest city). On the same Beach where the US Marines had landed nearly 10 years earlier beginning America's combat. Involvement in Vietnam, 16,000 Arvind soldiers fought for space with 775,000 terrified civilians aboard an improvised fleet of freighters and fishing boats headed south for Cam Ranh Bay, Vung Tau, and Saigon. North Vietnamese were slowly destroying Nha Trang, Xuan Loc.. making their way to the main capital of South Vietnam, Saigon. Heard from this terrible news, the evacuation plan was put on the action. There are 4 plans: Sealift by cargo ships anchored in the port of Saigon, Air Lift by commercial airliner, military airlift and flights of helicopters to a flotilla of US Navy ships in the South, China Sea. South Vietnamese were rushing to those ships, plane, and helicopter to escape from Vietnam. Some success in escaping and some are being left behind.

Final opinion: Firstly, I admire how much work Kens Burn has put on this video, I can’t believe any Vietnamese people memories that told me without seeing this footage. This film means a lot to me, my grandparents always told me that they suffer a lot during this tragic period of time in the Vietnam history. But I never feel the same way they did because I never saw it before. Me, living in this 21st century as a peaceful life makes me forgot how much the blood, sweat, and tears my grandparents had put out to fight for Vietnam. Kens Burn, himself is an amazing film producer, actually, he had made the world an awareness of not making this fucking stupid mistake again. From John F. Kennedy, Lyndon B.Johnson, Richard Nixon, and Gerald R.Ford, they are the stupidest person I ever knew. They all just a big liar bastard, they create this mess and look what they do, sit and wait for Vietnam to be destroyed. Behind those speeches and promises that they said, it just lies. Lies to themselves, U.S, and this beloved country, Vietnam. The biggest mistake that we’re making is WAR. I bet there are soldiers who wonder why they are holding gun back then, they are not savages, who loves killing people. It just those Communist, Democratic... and those shitty Party that was made by the president. Making us human killing each other, building tanks, airforces... to bombs other. What are they ever done any bad to you? They are not sinners, they not supposed to feel like that, being bombed, wounded, and suffered. So why don’t we use this Vietnam War as an example to get away and prevent it to happen again in the future? Let’s make the world a better place, a place where people can live happily.

- Peter

“I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has been seen brutality, it's stupidity” - Dwight D.Eisenhower

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capn-charlie · 7 years

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If you had a dollar for everytime someone requested a baby drabble you'd be richer than bill gates lmaooooo Speaking of which, DRABBLE REQUEST TIME! Something in the style of established emison going grocery shopping or so, and some homophobic shithead drops some nasty comment to emily, and alison (having finally accepted her sexuality) brings out her true inner bitch and DRAGS HIS ASS. That would be some priceless shit right there.

This request made me laugh, mostly because she would, without a doubt, cut a bitch for being homophobic. I live:

“She was totally flirting with you,” Alison huffs as she brushes past Emily who holds two more grocery bags than she does, feeling annoyed because they ran into an old friend of the brunette’s while standing near the shop’s exit.

“I beg to differ,” Emily looks at her, opening the trunk of their car and organizing the bags within. “She’s not gay.”

“For someone who’s liked girls for ninety percent of her life, you sure as hell have a shitty gaydar,” Alison raises an eyebrow, afterwards rolling her eyes.

Before the brunette has a chance to respond, they both hear snickering coming from a baseball-cap-wearing, college kid with khaki shorts, walking next to his friend who doesn’t seem as amused by whatever-the-fuck. Alison side-eyes them, watching the first kid repeatedly look backwards at Emily until she hears him say, “She has a nice ass for a dyke, though.”

“Hey, excuse me,” Alison calls after the two boys, drowning out Emily who mutters, “Ali, leave it be.”

“No, I won’t just ‘leave it be,’” the blonde narrows her eyes before turning back to the boys who stand near a parked car. “What’d you just say?” she throws her voice to them.

They don’t answer, lingering near the car. Alison, seeing this, decides to approach them, though her arm is caught by Emily who hisses, “Alison, no. They’re not worth it.”

The blonde pulls her arm away, not being in the mood from the get-go. She walks up to the two kids, the vulgar one letting his eyes roam Alison’s body while the other pretends that he’s not paying attention. Emily doesn’t know whether to follow the girl or not, but decides to approach them just in case they don’t take too kindly to the fiery blonde.

“What’d you say about my girlfriend?” Alison tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as the kid laughs, afterwards allowing his focus to shift down along her body once more.

“It’s a shame you’re a dyke, too,” he chuckles. “You sold out.”

Alison raises her eyebrows and nods, more so at his stupidity.

“It’s also a shame that your type lacks the capability of understanding what’s your business and what’s not,” Alison throws back, “but I guess we both have our flaws.”

He goes to open his mouth, though Alison runs right over whatever he’s about to say.

“Actually, my problem isn’t that I like girls,” she continues with an informative tone. “My problem is selfish fucks like you who think they’re entitled to staring at me like I’m some piece of meat.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear tank tops, then,” he shrugs one shoulder, pursing his lips and Emily rolls her eyes. “And why aren’t you saying anything, beautiful?” he directs at the brunette.

Alison raises her eyebrows, “Because, similar to me, she thinks you’re not worth it, but she tends to believe that things should be left alone. I don’t. I think that, if anything happens to you, you’ve had it coming for quite some time, and I’m not going to let you talk about either of us like you have a right to do so.”

“Freedom of speech.”

“Oh, sweetie, that only gets you so far,” Alison laughs. “I suggest you keep your mouth shut, next time. Someday, you’re going to say shit about the wrong person, and, honestly, I can’t wait for that day.”

“Is that a threat?” he looks smug.

“No, it’s only… what’d you call it? Oh, that’s right, freedom of speech,” she flashes him a fake grin.

When Alison sees that he doesn’t have a rebuttal, she turns to walk away, having Emily do the same behind her. Before she gets too far from the two kids, however, she stops in her tracks and faces them again, now separated by twenty feet of space. She smiles, squints her eyes, and throws her voice to the boys, ultimately feeling like she’s let out some aggression when she informs, “The store down the road tends to sell gay pride and feminism shirts, assholes. I suggest you stay away. It might melt your beloved, crappy mindsets and egos.”

#answered ask #emison fic #emison drabble

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