#the seeds were already planted when she got robbed a few years back and all her sentimental jewellery got stolen and they did nothing

[nest-being]

love seeing my mum becoming anti-police right before my eyes. nothing will radicalise you like experiencing two murders and seeing the police do fuck all about it

[pinkoptics]

Would You Catch Me If I Fall?

aka Cherik Fallen Angel fic

Part 2 of Chapter 2

(Previous parts now on Ao3)

Erik is going to do everything he can to make sure Charles is taken care of. Charles saved his life. That’s why. Right… right???

*

“Mr. Olsen, I believe you will do exactly as I’ve asked.”

Mr. Olsen opened his mouth, to protest most likely, but Erik was well practiced in speaking in a way that left no room for interruption. “You will, because you are aware of the exact amount my firm has donated to your hospital this year and every other before it.”

Mr. Olsen was turning an interesting shade of red. It had nothing on Azazel, but the flush beneath his skin was making a concerted effort.

“You are also aware of what it would do to this hospital’s reputation for being at the forefront of mutant medicine if my firm were to very vocally withdraw its support and place it elsewhere, say... Johns Hopkins?”

“Mr. Lehnsherr—“ Still red, but now also sputtering. “You do not have the authority. Shaw would never—“

Erik smiled in such a way that Olsen cut himself off. Erik’s smile, though the word hardly applied, very early in his career had earned him the nickname ‘The Shark.’ Only used when he knew his prey was very much backed into a corner of their own making and it was time for the kill.

“If The Incident were to suddenly appear on social media again, with a narrative much closer to the truth...”

Red became purple. “We have an NDA! You can’t—“

“When information is out it is out, Mr. Olsen. Non-disclosures only hold weight if the parties involved care about the consequences. I could give a fuck. Besides, whether this hospital is guilty or innocent, reputations once ruined are terribly hard to salvage, aren’t they? Once, tried in the court of public opinion...”

“Shaw would— you’d be—“

Erik simply raised an eyebrow.

Olsen was right. Erik didn’t have the authority to stop donations, Shaw would have his job and his ass if he ever went to the public about any of the firm’s cases. Moreover, he would probably lose his license to practice. None of those things mattered however, not because Erik truly didn’t care, but because Olsen only needed to believe he was serious. If Erik couldn’t sense the man’s weaknesses, and couldn’t exploit them, he would hardly have been the best lawyer at his firm (no matter what Emma said to the contrary). The seed of doubt, once planted in a weak mind, was notoriously difficult to weed out.

“Fine,” Olsen ground out. Looking like he was very much sucking on a lemon.

Erik levitated the paperwork he had prepared by its staple. It was accompanied by one of the disgustingly expensive fountain pens the firm utilized to perpetuate its reputation. It hovered in front of the sour countenance and Erik felt the same sense of satisfaction he did after a particularly shrewd cross examination.

Threatening Olsen in this way was beyond overkill.

However, Erik knew of nothing else that would resolve Charles’ situation as swiftly. As Olsen scratched out his signature nearly hard enough to tear paper, Charles’ need for insurance, identity, and anything else he did not have, vanished.

Besides, he’d never liked this man or this hospital, so if he got to have a little fun while getting Charles what he needed, all the better. The faster he could get Charles out of here unscathed the better. He owed him that much, possibly more. There were few people insane enough, selfless enough, to throw themselves in front of a car for a stranger. Erik had made it his life’s work to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. Charles had more than earned that same protection until he was back to his former self.

T’s crossed and i’s dotted, Erik left Olsen to fume, so he could share the good news with Charles. The words that had been leaping forward died on his lips when he took in the state of Charles’ room.

“. . . Did you rob a florist?”

Charles graced him with a much less hysterical, much more pleasant sounding laugh than he had any time previously.

“Aren’t people just lovely? This one is from the nurse on call, Ben. He has the most adorable little boy. Teething at the moment, which is trying of course, but he’s so precious one can hardly be cross. I’m sure Ben would be happy to show you the photos too. This one is from Dr. Yousef, whom you’ve already met. She detests flowers, personally, as she’s never home consistently enough to care for them properly. This one is from Saima...”

While Charles no longer appeared to be in a state of hysteria, it appeared to be Erik’s turn, and he became suddenly, hysterically deaf. Had he misplaced a day? Or two? More? Was he the one with the head injury?

“Did you— I mean, do you know them?”

Charles cut off his still in-progress monologue about his sudden and inexplicable well-wishers.

“Oh no. We’ve just met. Nancy would like to get coffee when I’m better though. I believe that is a cultural expression of friendship, is it not? Or does coffee equal sex? It’s so hard to keep track of these things as humans rarely say what they truly mean. Why do you lot insist upon speaking in code? A code that changes every generation no less. Regardless, I’ve never had coffee. Given how utterly obsessed with it you all are I’m rather excited to find out what all the fuss is about.”

Erik didn’t know what part of that to address first, if at all.

Ben, Yousef, Saima... who the fuck was Nancy?

Sex?

Never had coffee?

“Oh Erik, I’m sorry. You look so confused again. I forget myself. I would much rather have coffee for the first time with you of course. At that diner you speak so highly of. I believe diners generally serve coffee.”

Erik blinked. Did that mean Charles wanted to be his friend or have sex with him? Or, did never having had coffee actually mean never having had sex? No. Wait. What in the fuck were they talking about?

What came out was, mercifully, “You make friends quickly.” This was something he and Charles certainly didn’t share.

“Do I?” Charles shrugged. “I love people. All people. They’re so fascinating.” Something else he and Charles certainly didn’t share. In his experience, most people were dull or cruel or both. Except Charles. Charles had been the exact opposite of dull or cruel right from the first. Crashing headfirst into Erik, literally and figuratively, and smashing all his expectations of what people did or didn’t do for one another. It might have also been the head injury/amnesia mitigating the dullness, making him say the most ridiculous things that Erik had ever heard and couldn’t even begin to sort out, but Erik didn’t really think so. He read people extremely well and Charles intrigued him. No one intrigued him.

Shoving the friends/coffee/sex equivalency conversation aside, Erik patted his briefcase. “I’ve sorted out everything with hospital administration. You won’t have to worry about insurance, bills... if there’s anything you need, just ask. They will be sure you get it.”

“I won’t ask how you managed it.” Charles’ look became conspiratorial. Almost as if he did know Erik’s methods. There was no way, of course, that he did unless he was a telepath, which Erik had already briefly mused on. “You really needn’t have troubled yourself, though I appreciate it, you, all the same.”

There it was again. The strange gravity his words seemed to possess. Erik flushed, not something he ever did, feeling that appreciation to his core. Charles’ smile deepened and somehow held the same weight as his words. Looking at it was almost too much, like looking straight at the sun, it warmed parts of Erik he hadn’t even realized were cold.

“You can stay with me,” Erik said, apropos of nothing, then flinched, his own words surprising him. It wasn’t the offer he had intended to make. The Firm put people up all the time for various reasons, and Erik had planned to slip Charles in to one of his current cases with no one the wiser. The doctor felt certain it wouldn’t be long until his memory returned, based on her previous experience of such cases.

Charles’ astonishment seemed to match his own. “Erik, that’s too much. You’ve done so much already.”

Erik rubbed at the back of neck, avoiding Charles’ eyes, which were comically, anime-wide. While he hadn’t meant to make the offer, he also found now that he had, he also had no sense of regret. His flat was large, he practically lived at the firm, so it would hardly be an inconvenience and the less he abused his position, the less tracks he had to cover.

He coughed, “There’s always Nancy.” Erik hoped the joke would break the sudden tension. “You could take her up on her ambiguous offer.” Charles laughed. Success.

“Coffee, and whatever else it may suggest, is a far cry from living together. Besides, I don’t even know Nancy.”

“You don’t know me either. You may have unwittingly saved a sociopath the world would be better without.”

Charles shook his head. “Don’t be absurd. You’re a good man, Erik. Better than you know.”

Everything about this was absurd.

“It’s settled then, when they discharge you, you can stay with me until we figure out who you are.”

Charles’ face, which Erik was already beginning to realize was nakedly expressive, came over suddenly unreadable.

“I—“ Charles hesitated, eyes flicking away from Erik to the window. Erik supposed coming to live with any stranger was enough to give anyone pause, especially someone who was as disoriented as Charles must already be. He was about to shift back to his original, much less awkward, plan when Charles’ gaze focused back on him. “All right. Until... until then.”

“Until then,” Erik echoed and they both fell suddenly silent.

He was inviting someone to live with him when he had never lived with anyone besides his mother his entire life. Roommates? Please. Erik had never had to, but would have rather lived in a squalid apartment than have to share a living space with anyone, even when putting himself through the extraordinary expenditure of american law school. Yet, here he was. Here they were. It felt right. Perhaps he had an overabundance of gratitude and quid pro quo to sate. It was the only thing that made any sense in the face of something that made absolutely no sense.

He’d probably regret it the instant Charles was in his space, but he also wasn’t someone who went back on his word, so he was taking in this stray whether he came to regret it or not.

Mama, at least, would approve.

*

Now on Ao3

Thanks for reading!!

[dailyaudiobible]

05/10/2021 DAB Transcript

1 Samuel 8:1-9:27, John 6:22-42, Psalm 106:32-48, Proverbs 14:34-35

Today is May 10th, welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it’s great to be here with you today as is every single day, every single day. It is an honor to come around the Global Campfire. And take the next step forward as we move our way through the entire bible in a year. And we are well under way as we’ve mentioned a number of times this is the 5th month of the year. And I guess we are 1/5 of the way through that month already. So, it just keeps going, step by step. Right now, the territory that we are in the Old Testament, is the book of 1 Samuel and we are learning about Samuel’s life. We have learned about his origin, his childhood and now he is the judge, a prophet, and the priest of God before the people. And today we will meet a person that is going to become pivotal. His name is Saul. 1 Samuel 8 and 9.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we’re at the beginning of a week, so we’re gonna be spending our week here in 1 Samuel working through the territory that we’re entering into. So, it’s kind of important probably that we just re-orient ourselves to the context that we’re in. And we don’t have to go all the way back to Genesis, we’ve kind of done this review but we know who the children of Israel are by now. And we know that they’re in the promised land, we went there with Joshua. We watched all this happen. And then we saw the rise of the Judges after Joshua’s leadership and after everybody who was under his leadership had died. So, in other words the generations changed completely. Then we have the rise of the Judges, there was no king. This is something that Judges told us over and over, there was no king in Israel and everybody did what was right in their own eyes. And so, as we went through those centuries of the judges, we saw that. We saw this kind of downward slide. Even though they would return and a judge would come along and give them victory and redeem them and they would continue to slide further and further away. Then Samuel comes along, right? And Samuel is the last judge of Israel. And it’s a beautiful story with Elkenah and Hannah and going to Shiloh and her praying and her bringing her little guy after the Lord gives her a son. She brings him back and dedicates him to the Lord and this is who Samuel is. So, Samuel grows up and becomes the judge of Israel and he has some sons of his own. And this is actually what sets up the big ask, “give us a king. Like let’s have a monarchy instead of this thing that we have now.” And this happened because Samuel was getting old was appointing his sons to become the judges of Israel. And some of the elders came to Samuel and they came humbly but they were like that’s not what we…we don’t see that working out, that’s not what we want. Your sons are not like you Samuel. They don’t judge like you. We’re not being put into good hands, in other words. So, they ask for a king. And it’s interesting because before Samuel right, Eli was the high priest. And he had two sons, Phinehas and Hophni, remember? And they were kind of scoundrels. And they were pretty explicit about that. And they died in battle. And Eli died that same day. So, Samuel grows up and he’s got two sons and it looks like it’s gonna be a repeat. And so, this is that context then that causes the people to ask for a king to be appointed over them. Samuel’s old, he’s not gonna live forever and they don’t want his two sons to judge over them in any way. So, they want Samuel to appoint a king over them. And that’s when we’re introduced to that man, this tall, imposing, handsome man named Saul who is of the tribe of Benjamin. And we remember just a few days ago we saw the tribe of Benjamin just about annihilated. And so, it’s from this tribe of Benjamin that this man Saul emerges. And Samuel is about to tell him that his whole life is gonna change. And that is where we’re headed. That’s where we’ll be heading into. Saul will teach us much about our own character and motivations. And so, let’s buckle up and stay tuned in these coming days.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word. We thank You for all of the different people that we have been able to meet from times gone by. And we’ve been able to kind of meet them and watch them and observe them and see how their lives go and what motivates them. And we get to see a larger story of people, how they ebb and flow in their national existence. And so, we are grateful. We are grateful for Your Holy Spirit to lead and guide us into all truths. And we are thankful for the examples in the scriptures to illuminate so many of life’s paths. In fact, all of the pathways that we are motivated to take, we have illustrations and so we are so grateful. And so, Holy Spirit come, plant these seeds deep in our hearts as we move forward into these emerging stories. Come, challenge us forward. we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website it’s where you find out what’s going on around here. Always something or another.

Still a little bit glowing from celebrating Mother’s Day yesterday with China having her first Mother’s Day and just being there with Jill. So, hopefully all of you mother’s all over the world felt loved, respected, and cherished yesterday.

And now we move into this week. And by the time we finish this week we will be at the dead center of another one of our months together. Day-by-day, step-by-step, it just keeps going. And so, I’m so, so honored that we’re still sailing. Day-by-day, step-by-step, we’re moving through the scriptures and they are speaking loud and clear affecting so many of the different aspects of our lives if we’re paying attention. And so, let’s stay connected to that journey.

And you can stay connected using the Community section of the website or the Daily Audio Bible app. That will get us to the Community section, that’s we’re the Prayer Wall is.

That will let us get into the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are resources for deepening this journey or just personalizing this journey. So, check out those resources in the Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, if what’s happening is life giving to you, then thank you for being life giving to it. It’s a community experience day-by-day, step-by-step and we wouldn’t be here if we weren’t here together. And so, thank you for your partnership. There’s a link on the homepage at   dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if that is your preference, is P.O. Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee, 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit the Hotline button in the app, which is the little button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that’s it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I’ll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi DAB family, this is Rob Still Worship Dude in Nashville. And just responding to some prayer requests I heard today May 6th. I want to lift up Lisa the Encourager and the loss of your dad. Yeah, the same thing…I lost my father back in March and my testimony is really similar to yours. And I just wanted to pray for...first, we mourn with those who mourn, all who have lost loved ones recently, we mourn with you. And Lisa, we pray especially for you and…and your brothers and they would…everyone would walk in the fullness of God’s purpose and destiny and salvation for them. Secondly, I want to lift up Walta the Burning Bush who would not be Devoured and your family members that are caught up in that crisis in Chad. We pray for their safety and protection, God that You would send mighty angels to surround them and protect them. And Lord we pray for all believers in that part of Africa Lord who are at great risk. We lift up the persecuted church to You. God and we’re crying out to the Lord most High. Lord, send Your angel armies God to protect and deliver them. And finally, I do want to pray for David, the Young man who’s in college, he’s a pastor’s son. And brother, I just want to pray God’s anointing to be upon you, that you would walk in the ways of the Lord, and that you would continue to listen to the voice of conviction just to help you. It’s…it’s hard as a young man these days to…to walk with purity. And so, I’m praying that for you and for all young people. Just let the…I just pray the Spirit of the Lord would just come upon you and bless you richly. Alright guys, the Lord be with you.

Hi DAB community this is Ming from London, UK. Just calling in to pray for some of you guys that I’ve heard at the end of the DAB podcast. I pray for __ from Lincoln, Kansas. Lord I pray, I lift up her to You, whatever she is going through, I pray that You be with her. I pray for MJ from central Illinois I pray that You be with her brother-in-law after he was admitted to the hospital. Also, I pray Lord, for Lucas from Albuquerque. I pray for his girlfriend’s mother. I pray that she’s able to find a good, loving and supportive church community. And I pray that Lord You send Your angels to protect her from the forces of evil, from her ex-husband who used to deal in witchcraft. I just pray this all in Your name. And yeah…yeah, I’m just praying for that for each and every one of you that was…

Hey Daily Audio Bible family, To Be a Blessing in California. I want to thank you all for praying for me in advance cause I know that you will. I have had a challenging year along with everyone else. I’m not alone but at this moment I’m experiencing just the enormity of the loneliness and the isolation, still wanting to connect with people and be in community and not being able to do that in person has been really hard. I recognize that my love language is to give gifts. And so, that has not happened, and I’ve been depleted from that. So, what do I want? Please pray for me in my relationship with Jesus. I have been…not going to Him with everything. Instead, I’ve been going to other things to try and get some enthusiasm and energy and interest during the times that I’ve just felt sorry for myself, actually. But I want to have a fresh relationship with Jesus. And I just ask that you would pray for me to that end. Thank you so much for doing that. Again, as I said earlier, I know you will and I’m grateful for each one of you. God bless. To Be a Blessing in California.

Hey this is Daniel Johnson Junior from beautiful Cincinnati, Ohio and I just heard the message from Alexander Shultz Annette Alison’s son. First of all, what a praise report it is to be able to hear your voice young man because your mom has prayed for you so many times even through this forum. And we have prayed for you. And I just appreciated hearing your laugh, the joy in your voice and I’m so glad that God’s been working in your life. And praise be to Him. So, that’s all I got to say. It’s…again, from beautiful Cincinnati, Ohio, it’s Daniel Johnson Junior. God Bless you and make it great day.

Hey fam it’s Pepper in Iowa. I wanted to share a small praise. My oldest son is agnostic and with this move to Missouri he’s going with us at 26. I told him we were doing this because this is what God wanted us to do and He’s like, “ok. Seems right. So we’ll go.” The other day he was out in the garage with my husband, and he told my husband “I think my mom’s right” and has been asking about…said, when you obey God and listen to God the devil throws wrenches in it to try to push you back.” My husband was taken back and all I could think was praise Jesus because that means his heart is getting soft. So, I’d appreciate prayers for my sons. Mick is the oldest and the one that’s softening the most. AJ and Conner are still probably truly agnostics. But if He’s working on the hardest son first, I know He’s gonna gettim all. So, I just wanted to share that praise with y’all. It’s amazing, I can’t even express the…I don’t have the words, I just don’t. It is God and God alone doing it. Because all I’ve ever done is…I did take them to church as children. And even now all…I listen to this app. He listens, you know, he hears it, he asks questions, I do my best. And I don’t push it because I know him. But if his hearts softening, Oh Glory to the God of our Father because He’s the one doing it. I love you all, bye.

[klarkkent71]

How Kappa Started for Me

I know it’s been a while since my last blog but I had to focus on my final training rotation for the year before packing and coming to Shreveport for vacation.  I spent a limited amount of time at home during this training exercise coming home really to sleep and get back out the door.  With the 11th anniversary of my crossing date which was December 1st 2008, I wanted to talk about an experience that played a big part in my life and that’s initiating and becoming a member of Kappa Alpha Psi.  Just like my army blog, depending on who you talk to everybody has their own motivation of why they joined a certain organization below starts my story. 

There I was in the spring of 2007.  I just returned back to college from basic training and I was completely changing my life around to become a better person.  For those that don’t know during my first year of college I was thuggin from wearing a durag, to grill, and wearing baggie clothes to keeping a throwaway pistol on me at all times.  Before college, I was still starting to grow into myself.   When I came back to Northwestern I adopted a new demeanor from wearing clothes that fit to actually applying myself in school. Even my best friend was teaching me how to network and socialize with people around campus. At that point, I was still completely naïve to greek life though besides the parties we would go to where I just wanted to drink punch and talk to girls. One weekend my cousin Darius was visiting Shreveport from Houston after he just crossed.  He was showing me all these steps and moves and telling me how cool greek life was and that moment I decided to do my own research into Kappa Alpha Psi.  I was fascinated by everything I was learning about the organization from their stylish appearance to brotherhood, and the programs that they set up to help the community and campus life.  That night I planted the seed in my head and told myself that I have to make this happen and my aspirations grew daily.  One of the biggest roadblocks at the time was that my chapter at Northwestern was suspended so I struggled to find Kappa to network with along with my GPA which I started to get all A’s once determined.  When I told my mom about my dreams she introduced me to a family friend Alonzo Jackson Sr(RIP) who was over Shreveport Chapter and he told me about his son who crossed at NSU along with giving me the names of Kappas at Northwestern that I needed to introduce myself.  I remember it like yesterday; in order, I introduced myself to Demarcus, Rob, Sylvester T Vince Tremaine, and new members at the time Eric and Mr. Cartwright who would later become the advisor as the chapter got back situated and active on campus and overall people who will forever be legends in my mind.  At the end of spring 2007, I was informed that the chapter would be activities again that fall and I was more determined than ever to get selected.

It was fall 2007 and I was excited that school finally started back up.  That summer I stayed in Natchitoches to catch up on classes since I missed the fall of 2006 and I was working so that I could save up money so that I could pay my intake fees if selected.  I would go to softball games to continue to network.  The whole semester I was looking for the informational posters which listed the times and place to meet for those interested in joining the organization.  When I went to the informational it was crowded and I remember the last thing Mr. Cartwright telling us was “be humble you want to join us we don’t need you). I turned in all my documentation and recommendation letters which were signed by Kappas who had a lot of power in northern LA and I thought I was a shoe-in to get picked.  A week later I remember going to Mr. Jones's office who was also an advisor and having it broke down to me that I didn’t get the votes needed and that I had to work on a few things.  Specifically my involvement with campus organization and becoming an officer along with getting my name out there more.  I was honestly hurt at the moment because I thought it’ll be my time but honestly, that hurt did not last long and it lit the biggest fire in my heart to get picked next over.  Over that next year at NSU, I joined over 10 organizations and was an officer in five of them by the time next year information rolled around.  I won plenty of spoken word poetry contests and even won Mr. Delta Sigma Theta because I noticed a Kappa prospect won it the year prior. I made sure I attended every greek and campus event introducing myself to people and anytime Kappa Week came around I attended every event no matter the size to show that I supported and wanted to become a part of the organization which worked because people took notice at that point.  It was the summer of 2008 and I saved more money was just waiting on the fall to come so that I can go the information and get my shot.  

It was fall 2008 I was excited and ready and then another major roadblock hit.  During the first week of school, my National Guard unit was activated and called to New Orleans to help hurricane Gustav which means I had to be pulled away from school and go do hurricane duties.  The whole time during hurricane duties I was sad because I knew I’ll miss my opportunity to pledge but it turns out I had a blessing in disguise and didn’t even know.  My supervisor SGT Cornel Sims pledged in 2004 at Northwestern and kept me in the loop on everything.  I had no idea he was an NSU Kappa until then.  Every day he would call my future dean of pledges and would keep me updated. Once the hurricane passed my mom organized people and wrote to state officials about letting college kids go back to school.  I was so surprised when I found out I’ll be going back to college and didn’t have to stay the additional two weeks.  I remember driving back home on a Thursday and attending the Kappa party.  That day my Dean & Pops for life Phil told me I need to get my paperwork submitted by Saturday which Sylvester reviewed and gave me the green light on and told me to meet my future line brothers at a designated location.  I knew three of my line brothers(TC, Rick, and Waskie) already and was introduced to the final three(Mojo, Seawood, and Javand) at the spot.  At that point, I was relieved to know that I made it and the rest was history.  Obviously, we spent plenty of nights of studying and working hard to become nupes. I had gift a that I had since I was a child and that was the ability to memorize a lot of information by taking one glance at it which helped during some nights studying.  At times it become a struggle trying to balance everything along with school and I remember constantly getting in trouble by my peers in ROTC for not being attentive.  Mentally it took a toll because I could not hang out with certain people as much anymore and people felt neglected since I was maintaining a secret.   One December first came and we crossed though I was relieved like no other.  I considered that to be the best moment of life after being born.  I remember probating and waking up the next day to 200 friend request on facebook and a ton of strangers writing and telling me congratulions.  Overall when everything was done I was 7 Klub, Tail, Timekeeper, and Rock klub and I remember going from 186lbs when starting to 167.  

That semester I was voted chapter president and vowed every day to due to my best.  I learned a lot of my current leadership tactics from working with my chapter and overall had some of the best experiences of my life from throwing socials in my apartment to overall school socials at various event centers.  I learned was it was like to play to give back to campus and get involved with community service.  I had a huge social status on campus and I had people from other organizations such as Jeremy Evans mentoring me on how to deal with NPHC and networking with other orgs which I became really good at.  One of my proudest moments was making homecoming court and showing my parents that I was out of my shell on campus.  When I left Northwestern I was involved in 16 organizations and had a leadership role in 9 from being the president to the treasurer.  My final semester which was also one of my biggest tests was being a Dean and working to train the following line(my sons)  on how to be Kappas.  At times it truly felt like I was doing study nights again but it was cool to exit college that way.  Since then Kappa opened plenty of door ofs from me and no matter where I move or get stationed I also have a network to tie into.  I’m still very much active and do the bests that I can.  The pictures shared are people I mention throughout my post.  

[hnrywinchester]

Fare Thee Well- - Chapter 6

Summary: She hasn’t seen Gabriel since he dies nine years ago, then a phone call changes everything.

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

Series Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, character deaths, PTSD Gabriel, follows canon 13x18 on.

SLIGHT Dark!Gabriel in this one.

Beta’d by: @aquietuniverse

Words: 5.1k

This was just a Rob post marathon feels fest. It’s ANGSTY guys.

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Gabriel was staring into a face he never thought he would see again. Kali had broken his heart, tried to kill him, and outed him to her fellow pagans, making a whole big mess of an already messy situation. Still, after all of that, he’d ensured her safe passage out of the Elysian with the Winchesters and Liv, who hadn’t been thrilled about the entire exchange between himself and the fellow goddess. It was hard enough telling her that Kali was his ex, for lack of a better word, but it had been even worse convincing her that going the romantic route with her to gain an upper hand was a good idea. It also didn’t help that Liv had been right. Thankfully he’d “died” before she got the chance to shove the ‘I told you so’ in his face. Although he’d have taken her smug annoyance over leaving her a million times over. Her stony expression was unreadable, but she stood only inches away from him, her eyes bearing unwaveringly into his. His heart was pounding as his mind ran over her potential intentions, all of them being bad. Was she here to finish the job? Was she helping Loki? Softly, her hands came to his forearms and before he could react, her lips firmly pressed into his, and he felt nothing. No pining, no sadness, not even a fond memory passed through his head. “Sorry,” he said, clicking his tongue as he pulled his face away, “not interested.” As he pushed her body away from his by her upper arms, a satisfied little smirk spread onto her face, “So you have changed.” “Look, Kali, what we had was special, it really was but-“ he started, agitation setting in. “That’s not why I’m here,” Kali cut him off. “Okaaaay, so?” “Loki.” His heart dropped into his stomach. He’d recruited her. She was here to take him back, his former lover scorned was finally getting her revenge. Maybe she’d moved on and shacked up with that pompous ass. After Baldur had met his demise surely she’d found someone else, and Loki took pride in winning and stealing what had once been Gabriel’s. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll find a way to double it, just, please…” Gabriel begged, raising his hands in submission. “I’m here to help you,” she said bluntly, his gaze softening on her, “I owe you a debt and I’m paying up.” Life for a life. His nostrils pulled inward as his adrenaline surged, eyes hardening as his desire for revenge coursed through him. He didn’t know what she meant, how she planned to help, but this put him one step closer to the end game. Now he’d be able to hit Loki head on, hopefully unsuspecting. She held out a small slip of paper to him, his fingers shaking as he took it, her expression flashing her fear for no more than a blink. On it was written an address for Amarillo, Texas in ornate penmanship, nothing more. “That’s where they are. All four of them. They’ll move along soon, so act quickly,” she told him, his fists clenching at her words. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his thoughts too preoccupied with images of the four of them, dead by his hand. “Be careful. I can sense how low your grace is. He will, too. Also, keep her away from him.” “What?” “He’s well aware of what she means to you, of her importance. The human. Don’t let her near him, for both of your sakes.” So he did know. The little net of safety he thought he’d woven had long been shredded, and Loki was no doubt waiting for the opportune time to use this monumental play. Kali was right, he had to move quickly, because the enemy was going to strike soon regardless. “What does he know?” Gabriel asked as Kali moved back in towards him, needing as much information as she had to offer. “Everything. If he gets to her, you will not see her again. He’ll be sure of that. I’ll speak no more of it, I’ve risked enough. Good luck. We’re even,” she snapped back, before grabbing his arm and returning him to the park in Kansas. Life here was still moving slowly, leisurely, only fueling the rage growing in Gabriel’s chest. His jaw was twitching as he tried to balance his emotions. He couldn’t face Liv in this state, she’d catch on immediately and he didn’t need to add anything else to this already impossible situation. He needed the katanas, he needed them now. He also needed the woman he just promised he’d whisk away to a new and better life to somehow understand the position he was in. Unfortunately, he’d known her long enough to be absolutely positive of the outcome. “Hey! Gabe! What the hell? What’s wrong?” he heard Liv calling, her voice frantic, “I just passed this spot looking for you and you weren’t here…” “We have to go,” he snapped, grabbing her elbow roughly and pulling her towards the car. “Hey!” She yanked her arm from his grasp, planting her feet to the concrete. In all the years they’d had together, he’d never done anything like that. Gabriel was always one for words, he always had something to say and could talk himself out of any situation. He enjoyed defeating an opponent with nothing but word play and degradation, getting his way with nothing more than a cunning tongue. As his lip curled into an angry little snarl, she tried to quell her own fire by reasoning that this Gabriel was different. He was jumpy, panicked and afraid, he didn’t respond to things like he used to. Something was coming, or was perhaps already here. “What happened?” she asked, keeping her voice level and her gaze soft. “We need. To go. Now,” he growled as his teeth grit together. For the first time in her life, she was actually a little afraid of him. He’d done a complete one-eighty in less than twenty minutes with no explanation. He was furious with a reckless look in his eye that she’d never seen before. His unfaltering control was finally failing. “You need to tell me what’s going on,” she demanded, her voice trembling. “Do you trust me?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together in the middle. The question was loaded, and she knew he was well aware. So his Machiavellian skill was still very much intact. Her answer danced on the tip of her tongue, desperate to say yes but that little voice of reason planting seeds of doubt as it flowered from the hesitation she’d been trying her best to suppress since his return. She did trust him, but she didn’t trust whatever emotion he was feeling right now. Maybe it was because it was foreign or unexpected, but this was not a Gabriel she’d ever known. Maybe his faltering grace played a roll in his lack of confidence in himself, but she was tired of this guessing game. He didn’t want to discuss it, any of it, and that felt like a lack of trust from him. How was it fair for him to expect her to have unfaltering faith in him, when clearly the feeling wasn’t reciprocated? Her eyes told him everything he needed. No, she did not. Maybe she never had. He blamed himself, he blamed Loki, he blamed Asmodeus, and he blamed her. Why didn’t she see everything he’d been through, everything he’d done for her? What he was still doing for her. Why couldn’t she see how much he loved her? “Guess that’s a no,” he accused, taking a few steps away from her. “I just want to know what’s going on,” she stressed, reaching her hand out for him. “And I just want a lifetime supply of margaritas and ten minutes of peace of quiet, but we don’t always get what we want. We have to go, Olivia.” The use of her full name jarred her. She couldn’t remember a time he’d ever used it, not in jest or prank or introduction. Blindly she followed, knowing that this would be a losing battle. He knew something she didn’t, it was now a matter of prying that information out of him, and that wasn’t something she was used to. He’d always shared things with her, everything. She missed him. There was no other way to describe it. He was standing right in front of her, and she missed him wholeheartedly. It was the darkest, deepest form of loneliness she’d ever felt, to stare at someone and still long for them, to still mourn their absence. Though he’d been here for twenty four hours, he’d never really come back. Something was pulling him away, closing him off. In her mind, it was the trauma, the relearning how to live after nine years of confinement. She felt guilty, like she couldn’t love him broken and flawed, but that wasn’t true. She did. It was the secrets and the walls. She’d comfort him through a nightmare every night for fifty years if it meant she could have him back, but she wanted all of him. Fears and bad times, too. In his, it was killing off the one final threat to the normal life he so desperately wanted, and wanted to give her. When they reached the car, he opened the door for her as he always did, but to her, she assumed it was probably to make sure she got in without a fight. Her faith in the angel was waning. His anger was beginning to recede, guilt replacing it as he looked at her sullen and lost in the seat beside him. He could see the tears fighting her eyelids, pooling against her bottom lashes. They were caused by him. He couldn’t help it, he slid down the seat towards her and pressed his lips against her cheek, letting them linger as his forehead pressed against her temple. Her eyes screwed shut, the tender notion only tightening her chest even further. As her lower lip began to quiver, she bit down on the inside, forcing her teeth to hold it still. She wouldn’t give herself away. She would not cry in front of him. It hurt. Realizing that her safe space was no longer safe. Maybe it never was. He felt dirty, but again he found himself grazing the top of her thoughts, and it was worse then he had expected. She truly didn’t trust him, she didn’t even trust him enough to cry in his presence. She’d rather bite a hole through her lip than give him any inclination of how she felt. She knew he wasn’t right, that he was weak, and hearing her think it made the fact that much more real. He was nothing, not even to the one person who used to look at him like he was the sun and the stars. Maybe she didn’t need him anymore, maybe she’d be better off without him. But he wasn’t. “Sweetheart,” he sighed, pulling himself closer to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, “I need you… I need you to trust me. Please.” His words were falling on deaf ears and he knew it, but he said them anyway. She remained stoic, keeping her eyes locked on the dashboard in front of her, rattling off every weapon she had in the trunk to keep her mind occupied and distracted. He slid back into the driver’s seat, turning the key as he hung his head. He was losing her, she was closing herself off to him, and it pissed him off. He couldn’t do one thing right. Not once in his life had he ever been able to hold on to one damn thing that mattered. The drive back to the hotel was silent. Liv kept her eyes directed on the trees passing by the windows and she reflected back on just how fast things could change. On these same roads just hours earlier, she’d felt like the world was in her hands, that she had everything she could ever want, that life was starting over. She should have known that things didn’t work that way for her. She remembered thinking about when the other shoe would fall, hoping it would be years from now, but no, her reprieve from the life she’d made for herself lasted less than six hours. This was her fate. She fell for a monster, and in the end, the monsters always won, this one had just killed her slowly. Gabriel’s mind was no clearer. He tried to focus on mentally preparing for Loki, taking on the monster-god was going to be no easy task, but it just kept defaulting back to her. How this could very well be the last time he sat in this car, the last time her heart wasn’t filled with contempt when someone said his name. All because he wanted to keep her alive. When they pulled into the hotel her door was open before he’d even put the car in park. If this was ending now, he wasn’t going down without a fight. As the door closed behind him, he followed her closely into the room, wrapping an arm around her middle, pressing his chest to her back, dragging his lips along her neck. He knew what buttons to press to turn her into putty, and he would be trying each and every one of them. She didn’t resist, it felt too normal to turn away from. She whimpered under his touch, gripping the arm around her stomach, anchoring him to her. She’d dreamed of his touch for far too long, so her brain couldn’t deny it. His mouth left a blazing trail on her skin, his fingers dragging the layer of clothes down her arm, giving him access to her collarbone and shoulder, which he gladly explored and worshipped. Her shaky breaths mixed with the softest of sounds, reassuring him that maybe he still had a chance. His warm, arid scent filled her head, intoxicating and distracting. Maybe right now distracting was what she needed. This was simple, it felt good, it made her forget, everything was okay here like this. Quickly, he turned her in his arms, his lips crashing down onto her before she even got her footing. He kissed her hard, with teeth and tongue, his hands shoving at anything that kept his fingertips from her skin, and she responded with a hand straight to his hair, tugging his head around as she returned his kisses with ones equally as hungry. It felt good, it made her forget, everything was okay here like this, she repeated again. “Stop,” she whispered as they broke for air, “just wait.” Gabriel’s eyes snapped shut, this was it. “We can’t...we can’t keep falling into this same rut,” she stammered, still clearing the fog from her mind. “Always worked before,” he pointed out, before scraping his teeth along her pulse point. “Just, talk to me.” There it was. Not a phrase he wanted to hear, not now, not ever. Why was she so infatuated with hearing about nine years of agony, misery, and being denied the relief of death? Why did she think he’d even consider reliving any second of that torture? Of subjecting her to any images of the things Asmodeus had done to him. What was talking going to do? It wasn’t going to bring his grace back, or give him the last nine years he’d missed out on. It wouldn’t make her love him again, or forgive him. No. All it would bring was pain and a whole lot of misery. It was unnecessary and cruel for her to expect this of him. He pulled himself away from her, running his hand over his mouth as he adjusted his jacket with his other hand. He’d heard her startled gasp as he’d ripped himself away, and now he couldn’t bear to even look at her. “No. It’s fine. I didn’t come here for therapy hour,” he snapped, her heart shattering. “What…?” she choked. “Poor broken Gabriel, right? Who wants him? All damaged and powerless. No tricks, no fun. What use is he?” “That is not-“ “Then what? You think you can fix me? Do you honestly believe that? That we can just sit here, chit chat, maybe braid each other’s hair and bam, little Gabe is all better!” “I want to help you!” “You can’t.” This needed to end, he needed closure. He needed Loki on a stick, a wooden one to be exact. As much as he wished he could wait for his grace to recharge, it wasn’t happening. It was back to basics, hand-to-hand combat. Then he’d be back. He’d fix this, they’d be fine. He’d get her out, they’d live in peace and quiet out in the middle of nowhere. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this. Again,” she warned, tears falling freely down her cheeks, sobbing gasps ripping from her chest. “Or what? What’re you gonna do to me?” He felt his anger all the way in his fingertips as Loki’s grinning face seared itself behind his eyes. Come and play he mused, his treacherous chuckle echoing through Gabriel’s head. That smug, self-loathing bastard better be enjoying his final few days. He envisioned all the ways he could end him. All the different deaths he could inflict upon those three blubbering sons of his. He wanted it to be slow and painful, he wanted to hear them scream and beg. It was then that he remembered the woman behind him, he could hear her sniffling and heavy breathing, feel her eyes drilling into the back of his head. The one who was trying to convince him not to leave. He turned slowly, his eyes almost sinister as they fell upon her. “You gonna stab me with my own blade?” he hissed, gesturing to the glint of silver visible at the bottom of her duffle bag on the floor, “That won’t work. You don’t have the juice.” She was speechless. This wasn’t Gabriel. If she thought she’d feared him before, it was dwarfed by the terror freezing her in place right now. Her tears fell freely as her entire body shook as he stalked towards her; this was worse than watching him die. “I’ve got nothin’ left to break, sweetheart. You have no power,” he finished, “you’re nothing.” “Why?” she gasped, begging silently in her head to anyone listening to save him. “There’s something I have to do.” He bent and ripped his gleaming archangel blade from underneath the pile of what few clothes she owned, scattering them across the floor. Slowly, each finger wrapped around the handle, his head cocking to one side as he watched his reflection in the chrome. He didn’t even look like himself, he looked more like… him. “Please,” she begged, one last time, trying to reach the man she loved buried deep by whatever rage he was experiencing, “Gabe… baby…” His eyes flashed as her voice called his name, and he saw her. Blotchy red face, swollen eyes, she was wrecked. What was happening to him? He’d never… he’d never say those things to her. Nothing? He’d said she was nothing. Thoughts ran rampant as he shook his head, muttering incoherent words to himself. This was Loki. He knew. Kali… Something wasn’t right. “You need to go. Find Sam and Dean,” he instructed frantically, “I’m gonna fix this.” Every part of him wanted to kiss her one last time, not knowing if he’d ever get the chance again. Loki was in his head. He needed to leave, draw him out, and away from her, but her standing before him so battered and broken, it went against everything he knew. She needed him. Some little piece of her still wanted him, her final words begging him to stay. He felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye as she shook her head at him, silently telling him not to walk out that door, not to leave her again. “I’m gonna fix this,” he repeated, pulling his eyes immediately away before he changed his mind. Then he vanished. The echo of his wings ricocheting off the walls, every emotion from that night nine years ago pummeling every still-functioning part of her. She wailed as her knees hit the floor. It sounded inhuman, every inch of her numb. She was broken beyond repair. She’d held herself together for nine years, for thirty-five years, but she was done. Every barricade, every wall, every lie she’d ever told herself came crumbling down. Nothing had been worth it. Her life, it meant nothing, she had no one. “Get up,” a sharp female voice sounded from above her, was she really already hallucinating? It took a moment for her eyes to come into focus, and they fell upon a woman, gorgeous, with dark, perfectly curled hair falling to her shoulders, her umber brown skin glowing in the dim light of the room. Liv had seen her before, but she couldn’t quite place her finger on where. Then, it dawned on her. “You,” she growled. “I said, get up,” Kali repeated, bending down and grabbing Liv by her bicep, “you humans, you dwell in your emotions too much.” Liv stood frozen, unsure of how to react. She wanted to attack, Kali showing up moments after Gabriel’s exit seemed far too suspicious to brush aside. The goddess worked around the room, picking up the tossed articles of Liv’s bag and returning them to their rightful place. The action seemed peculiar. “What are you doing?” Liv fretted, the evening’s events overloading her. A goddess packing her strewn clothing was certainly the icing on the cake. “You need to leave,” Kali replied, shoving the tattered sack into Liv’s arms, “Now.” “I’m sorry, but you see what may be fucking with me here, right? Gabriel leaves, then you show up seconds later, and you’re both telling me to run, and not telling me why or from what. If you both just want to run off together then-“ “He doesn’t know I’m here.” That wasn’t the answer she’d been expecting. At Kali’s sudden appearance, she assumed Gabriel had chosen the obviously far superior woman, and they were off to enjoy immortality together. Kali stared at her, face still stoic, but a softness to her eyes now. There was a strange sense of sympathy in her gaze. She’d known Gabriel for far longer than Liv had, there was obviously still something connecting the two, and she wasn’t sure whether to be angry or appreciative. Kali had come here to save her, from what (if anything) she still had no idea, and she knew that Kali couldn’t have given two shits about some run of the mill human. Even worse, a hunter. She was here because of whatever relationship she’d had, maybe still did, with the archangel. “Where is he?” Liv asked, hoping to take advantage of this potential chip in the armor. “I can’t tell you that,” Kali responded, “Get in your car. And go.” So she did know, but Liv was smart enough not to push her luck. At this point, she was happy to be walking out of that room alive. She obeyed the instruction, grabbing her keys off the table and following the woman in red out of the room. Before Liv had a chance to speak another word, she was gone. It was then that she remembered a text she’d gotten earlier that day. They had a way to find him. Sam. I’m on my way. Two hours tops. As she pulled up to the decrepit building again, her heart sank. The Winchesters. She assumed Dean would be back, causing her lip to tick up in annoyance. He was lucky that he was damn good at what he did. She pulled out her phone and sent another text to the younger of the two, letting him know she’d arrived. Not more than four seconds later, the old metal door opened up and Sam’s giant, lumbering figure emerged from the doorway. “Hey,” he greeted, giving her an unexpected hug, “thanks for coming back.” “Uh, yeah, no problem,” she answered, feeling guilty as he thought her intentions were purely helpful. “Dean’s out cold, I can get you set up in a room and we’ll tackle this thing head on first thing.” “Sure.” Following Sam through the bunker, she felt the sting of the new wounds covering her soul. She’d remembered Gabriel holding her as she sobbed unapologetically into his chest, then the moment when his eyes finally saw her after years of torture, the relief in them. She saw the silhouette of his wings along the upper walls, massive and powerful, and then she heard the screams of Asmodeus as his hold on Gabriel finally ended. Or so she had thought. They walked past room number seven and she stopped; his room. This was where she needed to be. Sam noticed the absence of her footsteps behind him and turned to find her stepping back into the Enochian-etched room. “Do you wanna.. stay in here?” Sam asked skeptically. “Yeah,” she answered, tracing her fingers along the symbols, wondering if any of them spelled her name, retold any of their stories. Sam retreated with a silent nod, closing the door as he did. This was all she had left of him. These scribbled black, ancient letters on a wall. He’d taken his black leather jacket she’d worn for years, and his blade she never dared touch from the bottom of her bag. It was like he was wiping himself from her life. Slowly but surely taking every bit she had of him. Her eyes shot to the corner of the room, and she swore she could still almost see him huddled in a ball, catatonic and afraid. He’d needed her then, not like now. Now she was nothing. Thousands of miles away, in a place meant for only his kind, Gabriel was crouched over an old case, marveling at the four wooden katanas sheathed inside. These were his ticket home. Four swords, four monsters, one completed kill list. He’d shaken Loki off his tail for now, coming into the heavily warded fortress of his brothers. No one knew about this one. As his fingers ran across the wood, her voice drifted through the crypt, no more than a whisper in the dark. “You should have just stayed dead,” she cried, her voice cracking yet filled with unbridled betrayal as her tears poured freely once again. His chest seized as he heard her, he knew he deserved it. “Who does this? You told me… You’re a fucking liar. You don’t destroy the people you love!” Thankful to be alone with no chance of an intruder, Gabriel slumped to the ground, a sob echoing through the stone walls. He’d done nothing but destroy her since the day he’d met her. He ruined her. “God damnit Gabriel, you promised…” His guilt and sorrow churned in his belly like cement, thickening with every passing breath. He’d made a lot of promises he couldn’t keep in his life, but this was the one that mattered. This was the one that had eaten him alive every passing second of every day. “I fucking hate you.” His tears fell freely from his eyes, high pitched wails wheezed from his mouth as he finally broke down. He was cold, and numb. Everything was lost. “I fucking hate that I still love you. I hate myself for it. I hate, that if you walked into this room right now, I would forgive you. Again. So you could do this to me. Again.” ‘No sweetheart, never again. This is almost over. Truly, after this, I am all yours to do whatever you want with. Anything. I deserve the worst. Give me your worst. But please just give me something.’ “Why did you do this to me?” Her anger had died down, the rage simmering to distress and despair, “Why did you lie?” Every sentence was a knife straight to his heart. “Why was it never enough…” Her tears finally won, blocking out her words as desperate, broken sobs now replaced them. He wished she’d still been angry, he’d rather her be angry than this. He knew if she was angry at least she was still feeling something, that she was fighting. He could practically see her, curled into a ball on the bed. Her head wouldn’t be on a pillow, she’d be centered on the mattress, arms around her knees that her forehead would be firmly pressed into. Her body would be trembling and normally, he would have curled up behind her uncaring of how awkward the positioning was. He’d press as much of himself as he could against her, wrapping an arm tightly around her middle, dropping a reassuring kiss to her neck and shoulder when the tears would resurge as she worked through everything in her head.

Then, she’d finally turn and bury her face into him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt to keep him there, as if he’d ever once considered leaving. But someone, at some point, had. Softly, he’d whisper to her that everything was going to be all right, that he loved her, that she was safe always, and soon she’d calm enough and drift off to sleep. Gently, he’d shift her to the top of the bed, laying her head on a pillow and covering her with a blanket that she’d subconsciously grab and pull up to cover the lower half of her face. Then he’d resume his place behind her, holding her close again, bunkering down for the night as he listened to her breathing slow down and even out, keeping close watch of her dreams, redirecting them if they strayed into anything upsetting.

The next morning when she would wake, he’d always greet her with a smile and some cheesy line she’d scoff at, but he knew deep down she loved, following up with the warning her face was going to get stuck that way if she kept it up. Her eyes would still be puffy and red, her face still blotchy and he’d kiss her with a little extra gusto, just to make sure she knew it didn’t matter.

But now, he was the cause. He was the reason she sat alone, cold, unsure and broken. He’d been just another one who left. So tonight, she’d fall asleep with no one to tell her that they loved her, that she was safe. Tomorrow, she’d wake cramped and sore from the terrible position her exhaustion would take over in. There would be no cheap pick up line, or rolled eyes, or extra kisses. It would be an empty room, a broken heart, and memories of unkept promises. His unkept promises. His.

TAGS: @idabbleincrazy

[lavendermenaceart]

68 Unbounded

Summary: Another fight with your boyfriend, Another night at Chip’s. You’re in no mood to play Liza’s games, but Liza isn’t giving you a chance to say no. You never would have guessed leaving this hell hole in Tennessee would have ended up with a possible body count.

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Possible Murder, this fic is DIRTY

Word Count: 3,595

AN: This was really fun to write. It was cool to write something violent and grimy for once lol. 

You and your boyfriend had ANOTHER fight, so much to your chagrin, you were knocking on the door of your best friend Chips’ trailer. You hated crashing at his place like this, one part because you hated intruding, the other part because you fucking hated his trashy girlfriend, Liza. Just thinking about her in your already agitated state made your lip curl.

After your first few knocks and no answer and you stomped on the wooden porch, raising your voice. “Chip, I need you, Open the fucking door.” You slammed your fist twice more before crossing your arms over your chest.

There was a yelp and crashing before you heard Chips’ clumsy footfalls heading towards the door.  He opened the door, his clothing disheveled and cheek red from a what you guessed to be a new strike from Liza. You felt your fist clench as hard as your jaw did as your eyes took in his disheveled and battered state.

The pleading look in his eyes he always got when you saw new marks from Liza shone as he lowered his voice. “Please, don’t say anything, Y/N. I swear it’s okay.”

You snorted, brushing past him. He always pissed you off saying that and you always had a hard time not charging into his bedroom and giving Liza a taste of her own medicine.

“You know it’s not okay just because you’re a guy, right? What if I showed up all fucked up and bruised one day?” You went straight for his discolored fridge, not having eaten since last night. As you opened the door, there was no sound from Chip. When you looked up after finding an empty refrigerator, you saw the disquietude etched on his face and the fear in his eyes. You knew it was a real worry to have, you and your boyfriend fought enough and Chip had helped to fill and fixing multiple broken walls or windows due to the liveliness of your fights.

You instantly regretted planting the seed in his head, hovering closer to him. “He’s not hurting me, and he never has. I promise.” You were about to reach out and touch his shoulder before you heard Liza’s voice.

“What y’all talkin’ about in here?” Her voice was grating and felt like salt added to an injury when you saw Chip’s face. She had such a smug look on her face you were having a hard time keeping a neutral one on.

When you saw how stiff and afraid Chip was, you put on a sweet smile.

“Just askin’ if you guys want me to run to the grocery store. Your fridge is empty.” You stepped away from Chip, going to go sit on the futon they used as a couch and that you used to sleep on when you stayed over.

“Thanks for checking, sweety. You can do whatever you want cuz your ass ain’t stayin’ here.” She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn’t expecting a challenge since no one ever gave her one. Liza was in for a surprise.

“You know, I’m pretty sure this is Chip’s place and you’re not on the paperwork, so if anyone is going to tell me to leave, it’s going to be Chip.” Not your skank ass. You added in your head, feeling every hair on your body stand on end and every muscle tense as you were ready for her to jump for you.

Instead, she just cocked her head back before a smile like sugar slid on her face. “Oh, Okay then. Chip, honey.” Liza’s eyes fell on the terrified Chip and you instantly understood your mistake. You looked to Chip, wide-eyed. Surely he would choose you over her. You had been friends for years whilst He and Liza had only been together for a few months.

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, only looking between his feet and Liza. Clearly, he wasn’t responding fast enough because a gun appeared in Liza’s manicured hands from the back of her shorts which had been concealed to you until now.

“Jesus what the fuck, Liza!” You lifted your hands above your head in alarm as Chip raised his hands like he was trying to calm a cornered animal.

“Liza, plea-” He began to plead, taking a small step towards her before she pointed the gun at him.

“Someone make a fucking decision before one of ya’ll get shot.” Her face was more serious than you had seen it ever before and that sent a cold finger down your spine and made your face turn red the way it did when you found yourself in deep trouble.

“Look, I’ll-” You started but was interrupted by Chip.

“She used to rob houses for a living, she can help us.”  He explained and Liza nodded, an impressed look on her face.

“Chip! What the fuck! What the-” You ran your hands through your hair, rocking on your feet in shock. “You can’t just- I don’t do that anymore. It’s been years.” You were near ready to knock him on his ass but he was your best friend and admittedly, trying to save your life. Or limbs. “Oh my god.” You whispered softly, hiding your face in your hands.

Liza laughed, taking the hand that was holding the gun and rubbing your shoulder with it, pulling you into some weird hug that was probably meant to be comforting but it just made you want to scream and run. You looked to Chip, your mouth falling open in shock.

He just looked at you pleadingly, the expression being wiped away immediately as Liza freed you from your weird hug.

“Alright, she can stay.” She sashayed over to chip, her hands skimming over his skin playfully before she kissed his still lips. “You know I would never hurt you, right, baby?” She smiled, running a finger down his chest and stomach.

You turned away, already beyond uncomfortable and irate. When the kissing and whispering stopped, Liza brushed past you to the bedroom. It was obvious Chip was supposed to follow her but there was business you need to resolve with him before you let him go anywhere and he knew it.

Chip stood still other than the slight fidgeting with the hem of his thin jean button up. You paced back and forth in front of the futon, running your fingers through your hair.

“Chip, what the fuck? What the fuck? Please, explain what the hell is happening. What does my past have to do with me fucking staying here? What is Liza getting you into?” You brought your voice down to a harsh whisper, trying to keep your eyes off of him because you knew once you looked at him your anger would melt away.

“I-I don’t know. She’s planning to steal some money from one of her clients. No one is going to get hurt, okay? It’s a huge amount and we could all get better lives with it.” He reached out and you almost jumped. If Liza saw him just looking at you how he was, kindly and gently, she would lose her shit. A touch was enough to get him beat. It still felt good to feel his comfort again. A moment like this with Chip was rare since Liza had come into his life so you cherished his touch for the few seconds it was there.

Your anger melted and all that was left was the worry. “Chip, that’s what they always say. No one is supposed to get hurt, and then people get fucking hurt. Everyone gets their god damn cut, and then only one person does.” You shook your head. It was a situation you were all too familiar with and the part of the reason you ended your criminal career, plus prison. “Chip, you can’t do this, okay? I’m-” What would you do if he did this? What could you do? Could you change his mind?

Liza had pretty much taken over his mind since they started dating. You weren’t as close as you used to be and you always tried not to think about it, but maybe now was the time to confront it.

“Look, I know you got burned and things went shit last time you did something like this-” Chip started, not meeting your eyes but watching his hands as they moved while he spoke.

“So, you just get to decide to put me back in a life I don’t want to be in? You get to decide that I’m going to help you commit a crime that I know is going to end horribly? Chip, I’d rather be at home or on the streets than part of this mess.” You pressed your palms into your eyes, flopping down onto the couch. You had nowhere to go if you left. Homeless and Women’s shelters were always full in this area and going home wasn’t an option unless you wanted to end up like Chip.

You heard him sniffling, and then the sound of his clothes ruffling as he wiped his nose and eyes. After a moment of silence, he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry. It...I shouldn’t have said that I just know you have nowhere to go but here and I- I wasn’t going to make you do anything I just wanted to convince Liza.” He swallowed, running a hand through his greasy, wild hair. “Liza...Liza is good for her word though, and- and if you do this you could move out of here. We could leave.”

You know what he meant. He wanted you to leave your boyfriend and this dump of a trailer park once you all got your cut of the money. One thing didn’t sit well with you, though.

“Does ‘We’ include Liza?” You uncovered your eyes, looking up at his blurry eyes. His face fell immediately.

“Chip, get the FUCK in here!” Liza bellowed from their bedroom, getting impatient with their talking. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest and slouching back.

“Look, Y/N, We can talk about it some more later, alright. I’ll, uh, I’ll be back.” He gave you those puppy dog eyes before calling out to Liza “On my way, Babe!”

He slunk away and you heard the door of his bedroom shut behind him. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk deeper into the futon. This was all a mess and you didn’t know whether to stay or get up and walk out of the door. The only thing keeping you here was that you needed to get Chip out of this situation.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, licking your lips before sucking your top lip in as tears pricked your eyes. You didn’t want him to end up like you. You didn't want to even end up like you. Liza was a crazy bitch, though. If you ran off with Chip who fucking knew what she would do. If you run far enough could she do anything, though?

Your hand dragged down your face, tugging at your skin as the stress steeped in your mind. You were going to get both of you out of here. It didn’t matter how.

Your eyes had only been closed for a minute when you heard a crash and yelp come from Chip’s room. You had been blocking out all the moaning and screaming from Liza, but the noises you just heard made you sit up straight from your previous position as you listened closely for more indicators to the situation.

“Liza, Please. I-” Muffled pleads followed by the sound of hard flesh hitting flesh and that's all you needed.

You bolted up, scanning the room for anything and smiling as your eyes landed on a baseball bat. Normally you didn’t take pleasure in violence, but this situation was different. You took the baseball bat in your hands and sauntered down the hallway to their room, hearing Liza through the door.

“Why are you crying? You don’t like it when I hit you? Fucking pussy.” Another hit and Chip’s whimper.

You barreled through the door, seeing Liza still on top of Chip. If your adrenaline wasn’t pumping so furiously in your veins you would have hesitated, been embarrassed, but all you could think of right now was what spots to hit first.

“What the fuck do you think you’re-” Liza turned towards you, her hand on Chip’s throat. She smirked seeing the baseball bat in your hand. “Awe, Chippy needs a lady to-”

Her sentence was cut off both by Chip yelling your name as you began your swing and the blow that landed on the back of her skull followed by a metallic clang. She cried out, reaching for the injury as she slumped off of Chip’s body.

“Y/N, Y/N! Please, stop!” Chip sat up before rising out of the bed to grab your shoulders but you shook him off. Liza was trying to find her gun and you couldn’t let her get a weapon, and knocking her out would give you time to tie her up and Chip time to pack. You pushed him away, jumping over the mattress and bringing another blow down upon Liza’s skull.

A short cry left her lips before she slumped over, the visceral force of your hit vibrating through the bat and up your arms. Blood ran from her scalp to the carpet and she wasn’t getting back up so you pointed at Chip who stood battered and shocked on the other side of the room.

“Do you guys have any handcuffs or rope? I need to tie her up.” You looked down at her limp body, pushing her onto her back to check her breathing. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, she was still breathing.

“Y/N, what the fuck! Oh my god, is she dead? Liza!” Chip was over the bed in a second, dropping down to Liza’s level and shaking her shoulders. He pressed his hands to the open, bleeding wounds on her head. “Liza, baby, wake up…”

Was he really crying? You shook your head and sighed, rubbing your free hand over your face.

“Chip, I’m saving your life. She is still alive. I need something to tie her up with. Now.”

“Y/N, You just knocked my fucking girlfriend out! What-” He stood up, getting close enough that you felt his breath on your face. “-What do you mean “tie her up’? What are you fucking doing?”

You flinched back, cringing away from him. All the memories of your boyfriend doing the exact same thing rushed to the forefront of your mind before you batted them away.

“I’m saving your fucking life. Yes, I knocked her out. What was she going to do to you? Do you know what happens to people like you? You either get killed or you end up on the fucking streets. Now get the fucking rope and pack your shit, Chip. If you don’t, you will never see me again.” You hissed, trying to keep your voice down since other humans inhabited the area too. The last thing you needed was cops.

You watched the cogs turning in his head before he set into motion, going through some drawers before pulling out some cliche fluffy handcuffs. You rolled your eyes, finding yourself chuckling as you took them from him and handcuffed Liza’s unconscious body to the bed frame. Chip was busy packing clothing into a bag, so you sat down, letting your head fall into your hands.

You were crashing from adrenaline, and the weight of the situation was hitting you. You were going to run away from home like a fucking teenager after knocking a woman unconscious with a bat and handcuffing her to the bed. You could only hope she didn’t die.

“Oh my god.” You mumbled into your palms, dragging your hands down your face before dragging yourself back onto your feet. “Okay, let's just get to my place and I’ll- I’ll grab some clothes and money and we can take my van.” You let out a deep breath, shaking your hands to brush off some of the energy.

“Y/N, maybe we should sit down for a minute, you look really worked up.” He hovered near you, stepping over Liza’s slumped body to cautiously put a hand on your shoulder. It was so gentle and quick, it was almost as if he was afraid Liza would wake up as soon as he touched you.

“I’m fine, we don’t have a lot of time. We need to go, like, now.” You grabbed his hand, your heart pounding all of a sudden.

You dragged him behind you and out of the house, the bat in your free hand. You weren’t sure whether your boyfriend would be home or not and if he was, he was either going to let you go or he was going to get bashed.

“My van should be unlocked, jump in. I don’t know if he’s home or not.” You squeezed Chip’s hand, starting to let go before he pulled you back. You were face to chest with him now, the scent of his sweat and musky cologne filling your senses. You weren’t sure whether to cringe or revel in it.

“Are you sure you want to go in alone? I mean, he can barely handle it when you want to go to the store alone.” He met your eyes, his filled with anxiety. It was so sweet, you wanted to laugh but you didn’t.

You just nodded at your bat. “I got this baby. If I need any help, I’ll call.” You winked and smiled before he let you go and you entered your house.

Sure as hell, you boyfriend was slouched on the sofa in all his drunk glory. As soon as his eyes fell on you, his face contorted in ugly rage as he stood and stumbled towards you.

“Where the fuck have you been? You fucking bitch, just walking out like that. I should kick your fucking head into the wall.” His spit landed all over your face and you made the mistake of flinching away. “That’s what I fucking thought, you dumb whore. Running out with Chippy boy again, huh?” He was pressing against you, puffing his chest out and raising his voice even more. You had to start backing up as he forced your steps. “I should fucking kill him.”

“You won’t do shit!” You shouted, as loud as your voice would go. You lifted the bat, raising it over your shoulder and side swinging it to connect with his jaw.

A meaty clunk resounded and you felt it in your arms. You lifted the bat again.

“You fucking bi-” Your boyfriend started before another hit fell on his cheek. The clunk was accompanied by the sound of a tooth being knocked out and hitting a wall before dropping to the floor. Blood splattered the floor and wall.

A roar of anger sounded from the man in front of you and all you could feel is the sweat on your skin and the cold claw running up your spine.

His hand raised and he grabbed you by your hair, tugging hard so he could press you against the wall. You couldn’t get enough force to swing and actually hurt him now. His beer-breath filled your senses, making you wish you could smell Chip again.

“I’m going to beat the fucking shit out of you.” You could feel his growl in your chest, and it made you shudder. He lifted his fist and you knew you had to think fast. You gripped the bat higher up than usual with one hand and let the other one stay at the grip. You let out a furious shout as you forced the bat into his ribs hard enough to make him grunt and stumble.

Blood dripped onto the floor from his nose and mouth and splattered the walls as he coughed. You growled, raising the bat again and swinging to hit his skull. He ducked out of the way, but stumbled and fell to the floor as he did. He wiped the blood from his face, cowering back.

“Baby, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t-” He began pleading and you felt an anger rise in you similar to that of fire.

“SHUT UP!” The cry tore itself from your throat as you swung downwards. He slumped almost immediately, vibrations shaking your arm as you swung downward, again and again, blood splattering your face and chest, the sounds of metal hitting flesh and bone echoing around in your brain.

“Y/N, Y/N!! Stop!” Chip’s voice sounded through the fog moments before his arms restrained you. “He’s down, it’s okay. It’s alright, calm down.” He hushed you, rocking you side to side away from the body.

“I gotta- I gotta get my stuff.” You mumbled, breaking out of his hold and stumbling towards your room.  

You could hear Chip sigh behind you but shrugged it off. You both needed to get out of this place. You grabbed a suitcase and backpack, shoving clothing and important documents in them. You kneeled to the floor at the bottom of your closet, carving out the hole you had made years before from the wall. You reached in and felt for the bag. Luckily it was there and thick as it should be. You shoved it into your backpack before rushing out of the room.

“Alright, I have everything. Let’s go.” You slung the backpack over your shoulders, rushing through the hallway towards the door and grabbing Chip’s hand and your keys on the way out.

“Where are we gonna go?” Chip asked in a small voice after you had packed everything up and started the car.

“Wherever we want to, Chip.” You nodded in affirmation, turning the key in the ignition and leaving the trailer park behind you both.

“What about money?” He finally looked up at you as you spoke but you kept your eyes on the road.

“I have money saved from previous robberies and my job in my backpack. We are going to be fine, Chip. We can go anywhere. Uh, In America that is.” You pressed the knob to turn the radio on, heavy guitar riffs and crashing cymbals filling the background noise.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve been planning this. I did plan to run off, get away from this shit place, but…” You glanced over at him. “Uhm, Stuff came up. So, I stayed. I kept saving up, though, hoping one day...things...would change.” You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you pulled onto the highway, speeding up. “I didn’t plan to hurt anyone.” Your voice broke and you cursed yourself.

You didn’t. You just thought once Chip left Liza or visa versa, you could both leave. You weren’t sure if you had feelings for him or not, but you couldn’t imagine your life without the sensitive, goofy man. Liza had crushed him and in turn, crushed you.

You were startled by the feeling of Chip’s hand reaching and grabbing your free hand. You looked his way, glancing back and forth between the road and him.

“I’m….I’m not glad you hurt people but I’m glad we’re doing this. I’m glad we are leaving.” His voice was soft and sincere, cracking and here and there.

“Me too, Chip. Me too.” You couldn’t help but smile, and neither could Chip.

You had bashed away the ropes that bound you both to this hell hole. You were free to go wherever you wanted and do whatever and whoever you wanted. You were unbounded.

[peacefulheartfarm]

Fun Facts About Milk

Fun facts about milk. Anybody up for some trivia. “Fun facts about milk” is my topic for today. We have fresh milk again and it is always a treat. There isn’t much milk at this point because Rosie is quite a small cow and it’s her first calf. I’ll talk more about that fun fact in a bit.

I want to take a minute and say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you what’s going on at the farm this week.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

I don’t know what it’s like where you are, but spring is starting up here. We can still expect some colder days and our last frost date according to the USDA is April 15th. That’s more than a month away. Still, it is in the upper 60’s today and sunny. In short, it’s a beautiful spring day.

Reblochon Cheese

Before I get into the animal updates, I want to let you know that I just made a brand new cheese that I have never made before. It is still in progress. When I finish this podcast, it will be just about time to put it in the brine solution. Brining is a common method for adding salt to cheese. I’m so excited about this cheese. It is a semi-soft, washed rind cheese. Making it to the point of getting the curds in the molds was very quick and easy. Now the hard part begins. I have never made a rind with this much complexity.

If I am successful, I will have created a creamy, buttery cheese that will ooze and melt at room temperature similar to the way that a brie or camembert will ooze out of the skin. The difference is that there isn’t that skin – and that bloomy rind, mushroomy scent and flavor. This cheese will have a much firmer rind. We shall see how it goes. It’s a new adventure.

Sheep

The sheep are out there milling about looking for every new blade of grass. And there is some out there. Sheep will eat hay, but they prefer fresh grass. It’s not readily available in the winter and they persevere with the hay. But any day you will find them out there seeking at least one blade of fresh grass. Well today they are finding a bit. Granted the blades of grass are few and far between, but there is a bit here and there.

As far as lambs, these beautiful ewes have less than three weeks left before they start giving birth. We anticipate this event every single year. You just can’t not love those little lambs bouncing around, jumping straight up and down in the early evening. Praying for this year to be as good as the last. We are looking for about 6 to 8 healthy lambs.

Cows

A couple of our cow girls are nearing the end of their gestation as well. We could see the next calf as early as two and a half weeks from now. In the coming days, we will begin to start walking the girls up to the milking shed every day. That reminds them of the path and what they need to do to cooperate with the process. Well, they also get a little treat while they are standing there, so that is probably their incentive as they have no care for the process. Walking them up every day also gives us the opportunity to more closely monitor their progress and general health. Any issues are easily spotted and we can respond quickly.

I don’t remember if I talked about this the last time, but we are looking at adding a couple of bred heifers or young cows that are bred and ready to deliver in April or May. That would help us out so much. We are trying to build a specific genetic makeup in all of our cows. We need the A2A2 genetics for our fresh milk herd share members. If you are not familiar with A2A2 milk, I did a podcast on the topic called “What is A2A2 Milk? You’ll find it on our website.

We also need the genetic trait for BB Kappa casein for making cheese. We have lots of A2A2 cows but we are missing the BB kappa casein trait. I believe the only one who has that genetic trait is also not A2A2. As we move forward, there will be significant changes in our herd. It will take the next five years or so for us to reach our goal of 100% A2A2 and 100% BB kappa casein.

Quail

I’m saving eggs to put in the incubator. I think I mentioned that we are giving the quail one more year to pay for themselves. So far so good. I actually have new customers that are buying the quail meat. That helps a lot. The eggs sell fairly well, but there is little profit in eggs. Just sayin . . .

Today I got the incubator down out of the storage area above the creamery. Tomorrow or the next day I will crank it up and the process of hatching those cute little quail babies will begin again.

Garden

Preparing the garden for spring is now on the agenda. There is quite a bit to do out there and these wonderful spring days are just the time to do it. I think beginning the tasks will be delayed a few days due to another project I will talk about in a moment.

Did I mention that I have 500 bare root strawberry plants coming soon? That’s right 500 strawberry plants. Scott loves jam in his yogurt and I’ve been out of strawberry jam for over a year. This year I plan to remedy that problem. And I’ll have some yummy jam for you guys as well.

I have lots of tomato plant starts already sprouting. Also, the basil and thyme are sprouting. It’s so good to be growing stuff again. I have five different herbs, two tomato varieties and eight varieties of pepper plants that I’ve got seeded. Again, only the tomatoes and a couple of herbs have sprouted so far. But I’m actually amazed that those seeds sprouted so quickly. I’ve never seen any of my seeds sprout before 6 or 7 days. These came up in 3 days. Something is going on right now in my growing area this year.

I have an amaryllis – actually there are three in that pot. They are all over 13 years old. They have moved with me a couple of times and have nearly died a couple of times. For the first time in 13 years, one of them bloomed. And she bloomed big. There were three primary blossoms and one that was a little late in coming out. That one is the only one left of the four.

I watched that stalk grow for days and days and days. Then as it started to open, I realized that it had been so long that I had no idea what color the bloom would be. I thought for sure it would be a deep red. Nope. It was white. At this point I’m thinking that the bulbs might be even more than 13 years old as I’m pretty sure that the last one I bought was red. Well, we shall see if any of the others bloom in the future.

Bees

A short note on the bees. I don’t talk about them much. We don’t give them a lot of attention. We have never robbed the honey. For quite a few years they have simply gone on with their business of keeping up their hive all on their own. However, it’s not looking good this time. We don’t know for sure yet, but we may have lost the hive this winter. It was a particularly long and cold winter and they may have not survived. We shall see. It was plenty warm enough today for them to be out and about. There are always a few guarding the door. There was nothing when I went out a little while ago. But maybe it is still too cold inside there. I’ll be very sad if we lose our bees. They pollinate our orchard trees and vegetable garden.

Creamery

On a much happier note, the stairs to the storage area above the kitchen and creamery are currently under construction. What a blessing that will be when it is complete. It was quite the ordeal getting stuff up there. Scott attached a palette to the front forks on the tractor. We loaded it up with stuff and lifted the palette up to the door. A really, really, tall ladder was placed at the other door over the barn. Scott went in that door and came through the storage area to the door over the kitchen and creamery and started unloading the stuff off of the palette. It was a little disturbing seeing him stand on that palette while it was suspended in the air. But it held up just fine.

Getting stuff back down got a little easier a few days ago as Scott set up the scaffolding just under the door. A ladder to the scaffold and another ladder to the door made getting stuff down easier than getting it up there. However, the stairs will make it perfect.

Fun Facts About Milk

Let’s talk about milk. Let’s talk about fun facts about milk. The first thing is following up on what I said a little bit ago about Rosie being small and this being her first calf. Even had she been two years old which is the youngest target age of any cow to have her first calf, she still would not have reached her full size.

Amount of Milk

All cows generally have a bit of growing to do even after having their first calf. They produce significantly less milk with that first calf because their udder is still smaller than it will be when they reach their full height and size. So, when you are planning your milk needs, keep that in mind. The first year, she will produce perhaps 25% less milk than in her second and subsequent years. The amount of milk produced by her with her second calf is much more of an indication of how much milk she will produce on a regular basis.

A huge factor for us regarding how much milk we can expect to be able to use is that the calves need to get their share. Any milk cow will produce far more milk than a calf needs, but that doesn’t stop the calf from trying to drink absolutely as much as they can when given the chance. Every homestead and small dairy will have to manage how much milk the calves get.

Think about beef cattle. They nurse their calves as well but they don’t produce near as much milk. I think I read that beef cows produce about 1½ gallons of milk per day. A dairy cow is going to produce three to six gallons per day. Unless they are Holsteins and those cows are pushed to the limit producing 10 to 20 gallons per day. Anyway, we feed our calves 1 gallon of milk per day to start and then bump that up to 2 gallons per day as they get a little bigger.

Planning Milk Distribution

We do separate our calves from the moms and then bottle feed them. It is a rough three days but then everyone adjusts and all are happy and content once again. Another method that we may try at some point is separating the calves from their moms overnight. We milk in the morning and then the calves get everything else after that. I’m hesitant to try that method as it is important for the cows to be milked out completely twice a day for the proper balance in the milk for cheesemaking. I won’t go into the scientific details, but making cheese is best done with a real consistency in the milk. These are all choices you make when you choose the homestead or small dairy lifestyle.

I hope to help educate also that anthropomorphizing cows is not useful. They do not have anything remotely like human thoughts and emotions. In know we tend to feel for them as if they were human but they are not. The separating of the calf from the cow does not cause any lasting damage to the psyche of either the cow or the calf. It just doesn’t. Man was created to have dominion over the animals and plants and the land. We must care for our plants, animals and their living environment. We must be kind to them. We must nurture them. But in the end, plants, animals and the environment are not human and human emotions are not applicable.

That is a little bit of a deviation from the topic, but it is an important point to make. Often, I let my emotions get in the way and I feel bad for the animals on their behalf. In the end, it’s a useless pursuit. My method for dealing with this tendency is to allow myself to acknowledge it, feel it and then grasp the reality of it. Removing a calf from its mother does not leave the same kind of deep and perpetual emotional scar for the cow and calf that losing a human child produces in us human beings. It just doesn’t. Okay, moving on from that topic.

Amount of milk – the curve

When a cow comes into milk, there is a production curve that is pretty consistent. There are four phases in a milking cow’s cycle. There is an early, mid and late lactation period and then there is the dry period. In the early part of the cycle, her milk production will increase, reaching its peak in 60 days or so. Then the milk production begins to drop off ending up just about where it started. Then we “dry” them up. Basically.  we systematically stop milking the cow and she produces less and less milk. We don’t use this milk for making cheese. It can cause some really strange things to occur in an otherwise stable cheesemaking plan.

Amount of Cream

The amount of cream will change during the lactation cycle. I tried to get some reliable information on the cycle of cream and could not find any. I surmise the reason is the same reason that standardization was instituted and now no one even thinks about it. Milk was standardized to have a specific amount of cream content.

Standardized whole milk in the grocery is 3.5% milk fat. The milk is homogenized and that process keeps the cream suspended in the milk. In fresh milk from your cow, the cream will rise to the top and separate from the milk. You can see the exact place in the jar where the cream stops and the milk begins. This is known as the “cream line”. It goes up and down during the lactation cycle. Mom can control cream somewhat and even hold some back for her calf. Nutrition will affect the amount of cream but the biggest factor in determining how much cream your fresh milk has is the breed of animal you are milking.

Before standardization, customers were getting varying cream lines in their delivered to their door. I’m actually old enough to remember the milk truck coming at 4:30 or so in the morning and delivering fresh milk to the door. We lived in Michigan and, in the winter, if you didn’t get up and get the milk, it would freeze and break the glass jars. This happened at least once in my childhood. Anyway, to promote customer satisfaction, standards were introduced to ensure that everyone got their fair share of cream. Homogenization removed the cream line from memory and it has become a distant memory.

Normande and Jersey Cow Cream

Jersey cows are a favorite in lots of small dairies and homestead settings. They have a very deep cream line, far exceeding that 3.5% fat content on your store-bought, pasteurized, homogenized milk. I’ve seen our Normande cows produce a cream line that was about 2 cups out of an 8-cup half-gallon mason jar. Even for the jersey and our Normandes, sometimes there is more cream and sometimes less. But there will always be more cream in the jar of milk from our Normande and Jersey cows than any Holstein cow. Holsteins are the black and white cows we associate with milk these days. It seems that every picture of a milk cow is one of the black and white Holstein variety.

Perhaps some of you are as old as me and remember Elsie the cow. She was the cartoon brand image for Borden from the 1930s all the way up to the 1990s when Borden was bought by JM Smucker Company and the milk was rebranded, Eagle Brand. Elsie was a brown cow. When they decided to have a live “Elsie” appear at the world’s fair in 1939, the cow chosen was from a Jersey herd. She even had horns just like the picture. You don’t see many modern pictures of milk cows with horns. They do still exist all over the place – Holsteins, Jerseys and our Normandes all can have horns. It’s all about branding. Holstein cows produce the majority of milk in the United States and the pictures of milk cows reflect that change. But I still love Elsie.

Flavors in Milk Throughout the Lactation Cycle

The last fun fact about milk that I want to bring up is the unique tastes that pastured dairy cows bring to their milk. I can always taste the grass in fresh milk from our cows. Well, not so much right now as they are eating hay. But when the grass comes in, there can be a definite “grassy” taste to the milk. It is very refreshing in the spring when we are starved for green things. I really, really crave salad this time of year. It’s the only time of year that I crave salad. I’m not a big salad eater. But late winter brings out that craving in my body for fresh green things.

Another fun thing that grows in the spring that cows love to eat is wild onions. We actually have some growing out there right now. Our property does not have a lot of wild onions and I am thankful for that. Unlike the grassy taste, the onion taste simply does not go well with milk in my opinion. However, it does make an interesting cheese. So, there is that.

The grasses that cows eat change throughout the year. There are spring grasses, summer grasses and fall grasses. Then there is dried grass or hay in the winter. Each of these types of grass affect the taste of our fresh milk and our handmade cheeses. The milk you get in the grocery store doesn’t have that wonderful bouquet of aromas and flavors as those cows are fed a very regulated grain diet. They don’t get to eat grass. Nope. They eat various grains and what is called silage. All of this produces a specific milk flavor that is consistent. There are no seasonal changes in the taste of the milk. And then there is that distinct cooked flavor of pasteurized milk. If that is all you drink, you will never notice it. However, if you drink fresh milk for a period of time and then take a sip of store-bought pasteurized milk, you will definitely notice the difference.

Final Thoughts

Well, that is it for today’s podcast. We are eagerly anticipating the spring birthing of plants and animals. It is a wonderful time of year. My favorite time of year is spring. I know, I know. We are still 10 days away from spring. But I’m there. I’m so ready.

Let me know if you enjoyed the milk trivia. And drop me a line if you have questions or if I can answer any other questions for you about milk, cheese or any other dairy product.

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts or whatever podcasting service you use, SUBSCRIBE and give me a 5-star rating and review. If you like this content and want to help out the show, the absolute best way you can do that is to share it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content. Let them know about the Peaceful Heart Farmcast.

Thank you so much for stopping by the homestead and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

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[rawcatlawnchair]

CHAPTER 10 - TRIXI

The great plains were a welcome change of scenery, or so Trixi had thought at first. Gone were the trees, the humid air and the critters that refused to go silent, but in its place had come endless miles of farmland and far too many rolling hills for his liking. As it evidently turned out, too much of any one thing was always a bad thing.

As they had exited the forests, the paths had become wider, so now the four of them walked roughly abreast, no longer limited to the single files of the dirt paths behind them. Out here, roads were indicated by real fences rather than the treelines, and they looked far more well-worn than the highway that they had abandoned.

“These marks are fresh.” Trixi knelt down to touch the road, observing two long indents in the road, indicative of a caravan train passing through. Small portions of dirt had been kicked up, possibly from horses pulling carts. “Maybe half a day old, or even newer.”

“How can you tell?” Jirei knelt down next to him, staring at the soil. ”What do you see?”

“It’s his smell, not his sight,” came Ruzuli from the side, leaning against a fence and drinking out of her flask. She stood on one leg, propping the other up on the fence, looking as casual as possible. She pointed to the side of the road, and Trixi watched Jirei’s face turn from curiosity to disgust, as her gaze met a steaming pile of dung, complete with straw sticking out of it and the unmistakable smell of fetid waste. She hastily turned away, much to the amusement of the dragonling. Trixi almost felt bad. Finding out what happened required an analysis of all factors, and sometimes those factors were unsightly.

Octavia clapped her hands and cleared her throat loudly, bringing their attention over to her. She pointed out the sun, still hanging high in the air. “We’re approaching the solstice, so the days are getting longer. We should use the light while we still can.” A chorus of nods confirmed she was making the right choice, and before long, Trixi joined his team, walking side by side as they progressed through the endless grassy plains.

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The setting sun coated the fields with a warm orange light, illuminating the wheat stalks and wild grasses alike, with a lone hill breaking up the monotony of the flat sprawling lands. And at the peak of the hill sat four individuals, lying prone in the tall grass, staring at a circle of caravans parked in a grass patch by the road. They lacked a spyglass, so to scout out the men below they would have to rely on their natural senses. With their naked eyes, they could make out some horses grazing, and a campfire already made, but could make out little else. As small grey wisps floated above the makeshift camp, they deliberated their next moves.

“Caravans painted red, white and green. Council colours. Probably official business,” Jirei reported from her spot in the grass.

Trixi stood up and brushed off some spiky seeds that had jabbed themselves into his jacket. “Should we approach them?”

“I say we do,” said Octavia. “They might know something about the happenings around the country that we don't. We're going into Shuyong blind, and I'm not a huge fan of that.”

“I say we don't,” countered Ruzuli. “You know the goblin bandits are coming from the east, don't you? For all you know it could be a trap!”

“Or it could prove immensely useful.”

The two briefly debated before Jirei broke them up. Trixi was honestly amazed at how fast she got them both to settle down and plan a tactical middle ground.

They decided to approach them, but with a fair amount of caution, and before the sun went down. They wouldn't brandish their weapons, or blatantly prepare for a fight, but they would keep on edge as they walked down the dirt road, eyes peeled for any dangers. They were just metres away from the ring of caravans when someone stepped out from behind one of them.

“Halt!” The word both relieved and surprised them, as they slowed to a standstill to meet the elvish guard that stood before them. Dressed in reds and greens, his chain mail almost glowed against the setting sun. He held his pike firmly planted in the ground, but Trixi knew from the way he wielded it that he could strike with it in a heartbeat. “State your purpose!”

Jirei stepped forward to act as their representative. “We are just travelers, and we mean you no harm.” She removed her hood, revealing her Elf features. “Headed to Shuyong, just like the rest of you.”

The guard removed his helmet, setting his short black hair free. He bowed once and began to speak, although it seemed like he only wished to address his kin. “My name is Feng, and I'm in charge of guarding this caravan train. It's brave of you to be travelling so far in these treacherous times,” pausing to flash a wary stare at the other three, before continuing, “Especially with foreigners.”

“Mercenary?” Ruzuli butted in, clearly displeased.

“I prefer the term ‘security expert’.” His response was bland and flat, a far cry from the amicable expression he had given Jirei.

Trixi didn't like his gruff expression, nor his arrogance. He had known elves were a proud people, but never to the extent of blatantly looking down on others. He much preferred the elves back in the Chalice, where forced interaction between the numerous races of the continent quickly knocked down elves like him down a couple of pegs.

Feng turned back to the circle of caravans, pointing at a large pot in the center. “Help yourself, we've got plenty of food. You're welcome to stay, and it's safer in numbers anyway.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Jirei was clearly uncomfortable too, fidgeting about, unhappy about her teammates treatment. But she remained composed, bowing in respect. Ever the diplomat, he thought, remaining silent for the time being. “We will not forget this gesture.”

“Just watch yourselves around here,” he warned. “I might not mind outsiders too much, but there are some with far more...radical views on what to do with your kind. The passengers might be merchants, but they’ll end you in a heartbeat if you so much as look at them the wrong way. We’re far from the cities; out here no one cares if one or two people go missing.”

As Feng boldly strode away, Jirei immediately hung her head in shame. “I apologise,” she mumbled. “Not all of us are like him. They spend so long within the walls of the Alliance, they forget the rest of the world exists.”

“Do not hang your head in shame, Jirei.” Ruzuli had placed a hand on her shoulder. “Raise it in pride instead. Be proud that you are not like him.”

“I, u-uh,” Jirei stammered, not quite sure how to respond, taking a few moments to think. “Thanks?”

“We should be the ones thanking you. You're ten times the elf he'll ever be.”

Trixi watched as the red flushed in in an instant, standing out against her light brown skin, and she looked down once more, this time in embarrassment rather than shame. But even as she looked down, the smallest of smiles seeped across her face.

As they walked over to the large pot, they were greeted by a lone dwarf, sitting on a wooden stool. Trixi was secretly glad to have met someone shorter than he was, and greeted him back.

“Rare to see this many foreigners this deep into the Alliance.” The dwarf cradled a small wooden bowl, filled with a savoury stew, complete with chunks of carrots and potatoes.

“Rarer still to see one traveling with elves, no?” Trixi sat down next to him and retrieved his own bowl. Apart from him, everyone else had already begun to scoop their own portions.

“Ah, but they need me. Special talents mean I get special treatment.”

“And what would that talent be?”

He motioned for Trixi to lean in, and whispered, “Guns.”

Trixi didn't know what that word meant, but he was sure it sounded mysterious. “What’s a gun?”

He shook his head and muttered something about how he knew they should have changed the name. “Handcannons,” he explained. “Imagine half the explosive power of a cannon, fitting in your hand, with a fraction of the weight and cost. I'll be bringing the very first shipment of these new weapons all the way to Shuyong. I'd show you one, but its secret and confidential.”

“And you are?”

“Harlin,” he said. “Master Inventor and head of the Dwarven Armoury.” Master Kris might have discovered the formula for creating whitepowder many years ago, but it had been the dwarves who had pushed it to its maximum potential. Their penchant for mass production had lead to widespread usage of their various inventions. While two decades ago cannons were only seen aboard dwarven vessels, now they were a staple of defensive strategies, mounted on ships and castle walls alike all over the continent. Only the Chalice held out, refusing to install the revolutionary weaponry.

“I'm Trixi, and my team's headed to Shuyong to do some adventuring. Some artifact to be retrieved.” Trixi had scooped some soup for himself and had hastily slurped it down. After eating cold dry rations for a week, the hot food was a welcome change.

They traded tales of their homelands, of the contraptions they had once made, eating together as the sun set behind the hills, exchanging places with the moon.

“So, how long has your party been on the road?” Trixi managed to get the words out while finishing off his third bowl of soup.

Harlin’s eyes skirted to the left and right, before dropping to a whisper. “Truth be told, we've been traveling two weeks, but we haven't moved from here in three days.”

“Oh?”

“You can say that again. The one that’s in charge? He don't want to cross the Citrasa. Something about goblins.”

“Goblins?” Trixi knew that there were goblins to the east, but nothing too threatening. They could barely rob a couple of travelers, let alone a large caravan train with a good number armed guards.

“Goblins indeed. Personally, I think he’s just paranoid. Whatever the case, we've got to make it to Shuyong by the solstice, or we'll miss out on the Festival of Ava. So goblins or not, we'll be leaving in the morning. You and your mage party are welcome to join us.”

In response to Trixi’s shocked look, he let out a hearty laugh. “What, you think just because I'm short means I'm stupid? Your elf friend’s staff gave it away, not to mention the human’s essence constantly being activated. Tell her to knock it off, it's scaring the horses.” As Trixi walked away to inform Octavia that her magic had been detected, he heard more laughing from behind him.

When Trixi returned, visibly shaken, he received a friendly punch from Harlin. “Relax, I won't tell a soul.”

“Promise?” After Octavia had been exposed, her essence had been deactivated, but she nevertheless shot death stares over at the two men talking. “They barely like us, imagine what they'll do when they find out we're magic users.”

“Nothing, I imagine.”

“Nothing?” Trixi tilted his head to his side, idly twirling hair with his index finger.

“Council colours don't mean council rules, boy.” He shook a small stick he had strapped to his belt and it extended into a cane, using it to help himself up off the stool. It was only then that Trixi noticed Harlin’s oddly bent right ankle. He hobbled up, and used his free hand to point at the caravans around him.

“Paperwork says we're carrying weapons and armour. Resupply mission for Shuyong’s defence force.” He rapped his knuckles against the wood, giving it a satisfying thwack. He chuckled to himself before sitting back down.

“But you look in those caravans, and you'll find a whole slew of other goods too. Oranges. Pork cuts from the western mountains. Tea leaves from the south.”

“They’re smuggling tea leaves?”

The dwarf collapsed his cane and snapped it back onto his belt. “You’d be surprised how much they tax these premium goods. The council doesn't pay much to move their stuff around, so we make do.” He stared at the fire, seemingly transfixed by the dancing flames. “Get some rest, kid. If you want to follow us, we leave at dawn. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some stargazing to do.” Without moving from his spot, he flipped himself onto his back, and began to watch the skies. Trixi silently excused himself and ran over to join the rest, already sitting in a circle on their bedrolls.

The moment he sat down, Ruzuli and Octavia began to vent. Octavia was still uneasy that he had so easily unearthed their true identities, and made no effort to hide it. She glared at the dwarf the same way a warrior glared at his mortal nemesis, intense and full of rage. Not for the first time, Trixi was glad he was on her side.

“I don't like him.”

“Well, I don't like anyone here.”

“You don't like anyone, ever.”

“Rude.”

“Enough.” Jirei's lone word was gentle but firm, quickly silencing the squabbling duo. “Trixi, you were the only one to speak to him. Can we trust him?”

He gulped. Harlin wasn't completely honest, but didn't seem like he was out to harm anyone. “Y-yeah, we can.”

“Good. Did they mention when they'll be crossing the river?”

“Tomorrow, we'll make it there by midday. Harlin told me so.”

“Harlin?”

“The dwarf,” Trixi explained. “He said the leader of the caravan think there are goblins nearby. They've been delaying the crossing due to it.”

“Bad choice.” Ruzuli propped up her arm with an upright knee, with her other leg flat on the ground. “If the goblins really are here, then the best tactical choice should be to just rush through. Every day they spend here is more time for the enemy to gather their forces, to scout out our defences.”

“Indeed, and I suspect the same.” Jirei pressed her palms together, and when she pulled them apart, a lattice of green vines hung in the air, loosely connected to her fingertips. “Using these vines, I sensed a large collective of lifeforms to the northeast of us.”

“Really? I didn't sense a thing.” Octavia had crossed her arms and folded her legs, bending herself halfway to a human pretzel. “Or is my understanding of druidic powers flawed?”

“Well, about that...” Trixi watched the druid grind to an awkward halt. She tapped her index fingers against each other a few times, before speaking again. “It's a new technique that my teacher taught me. It's not very precise about location, but if it senses something, it's there.”

“So...we should be prepared for a battle on the bridge?” Trixi said, trying to break up any tension within the group. “It’s a clear bottleneck, and once we're on the bridge it's hard to get off it quickly.”

They would spend some more time discussing possibilities and general strategies about how to defend the large caravan train, before agreeing to retire for the night.

As Trixi lay in his bedroll, staring at the few stars that dotted the sky, only one thought consumed his mind. When his master had discovered the explosive powder, she had been reluctant to publish her findings. She argued that many would find a way to abuse its destructive power, but was ultimately convinced by her peers. It would be better to inform the world of it than keep it a secret and wait for another party with far more malicious intents to wreak havoc. Now that the havoc wreaking weaponry could fit in one's hands, as Harlin claimed, that danger had grown tenfold. Too many stray thoughts cluttered his already busy mind, and it drained his energy away. Within the minute, his eyelids would shut for the evening.

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

Trixi did not need to rely on any rooster to rouse him from his sleep, or even his internal alarm. Instead, Feng, the elf guard from the previous day, roamed about the camp at the crack of dawn, ringing a large bell repeatedly, waking every single traveler up. “Thirty minutes!” Feng hollered in the air. “Thirty minutes and we leave!” Evidently, the rest of the travellers were already used to this routine, as they roamed over to a large barrel of water to begin to freshen up.

“Good morning,” he groaned, but no one responded. He sat upright, and realized his teammates had not only already awoken, but were already ready to leave, sitting around the fire.

“How nice of you to join us.” Ruzuli said, failing to stifle her own smile.

“No one woke me up?” He ruffled his hair, allowing it to settle into its natural mess.

“No one dared interrupt your sleep, lest they incurred your wrath.”

“Very funny.”

“She’s not wrong,” Jirei said, holding a bowl of oatmeal. “You snore like a horn.”

Trixi groaned and fell back into his bedroll. It was going to be a long day ahead. Eventually, he had to leave the warmth of his bedroll behind and get up, preparing for the travels ahead.

After precisely thirty minutes, Feng indeed gave the command to move off, ringing a series of bells mounted on the front car to convey it. The caravans were arranged in a particular order to improve security. At both ends were the cars containing the food and other assorted essentials for traveling. They were crucial, but in the event of an attack they would be the first to be abandoned. Next were the cars containing the armaments, stuffed with the premium goods to sell when they arrived in the city. And at the very heart of the train, sandwiched between eight other cars, was the one carrying Harlin’s deadly cargo. Feng and his other guards knew that if it came down to it, they would have to defend that car with their lives. Under no circumstance could the revolutionary weapons fall into anyone else’s hands.

Trixi observed the uniquely Elven manner of pulling their cars. Instead of a horsemaster and whips, like others might use, they instead employed rangers, users of green essence who were more attuned to animals in nature. They could quickly create a bond to the horses, and give them the commands needed, with only a simple pair of reins to communicate. He noted that all the rangers that sat at the front of the wooden carts were also dressed in the colours of the Elven Council. They clearly took their transportation very seriously.

Most of the passengers would be walking alongside the caravans, with only a select privileged few being able to sit in them, Harlin being part of that group. He waved goodbye to Trixi as he awkwardly went up the steps, disappearing into a cabin. As for Trixi, he had been placed at the rear, alongside Ruzuli, Jirei and Octavia. Feng reasoned that if they had travelled all this way without any help, then they should be able to handle themselves.

Most of their fellow travelers steered clear of the strange new companions, so they walked alone, right beside the very last car. Trixi watched as a horse began to neigh loudly, walking erratically, and the ranger instinctively calmed it down, sending green essence flowing into his reins. The horse quickly fell silent, and continued its march. 

As the cars set off from their encampment, with two horses pulling each one along, Trixi stared at the map. The Citrasa was nearly half a day's walk away from them, and would be the final major checkpoint before they reached Shuyong. Unfortunately for Trixi, the view remained unchanging, barring the occasional lone tree sitting by the roadside, leaving him nothing to focus his mind on. Instead, he thought of their ultimate goal that day, to cross the Citrasa.

Unarguably the most famous river in all of Sagure, Trixi had seen the Citrasa depicted in countless texts and paintings. Spanning the entire length of the continent, from all the way in the northern Fang Plateau, before flowing south. It rested briefly to form Lake Kaerin, and split to form two separate rivers further down its length. Beyond the fork, they were simply referred to as the Southern and Eastern Citrasa, described simply with its direction.

As he walked in silence, he tuned into the conversation going on ahead of him.

“Ruzuli, would you stop touching your hilt?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

“You know what's safe? Any scenario where you don't have to use your sword.”

“Hmpf. Fine.” Ruzuli awkwardly jammed right hand into one of the numerous pockets that lined her shirt, while Octavia beamed on, with a mocking smile specially reserved for her.

“You know, this exact conversation has happened before.” Jirei waggled a finger in the air, waving it playfully as Ruzuli continued to sulk.

“Not a surprise,” Octavia said. “She doesn't strike me as the type to change that easily.”

“I am literally right here.” Ruzuli pursed her lips, angrily glaring at the two girls mocking her. Trixi swore he could see invisible puffs of smoke floating from her nostrils, like the flame-breathing dragons of yore.

A sudden flash filled the sky, followed moments later by a low rumble. “Not me,” Ruzuli whispered, as grey clouds rolled in, the sudden storm approaching from ahead. Before anyone could respond, three high-pitched bells rang out. The command for haste.

All along the caravan train, nine sets of reins began to glow as the rangers compelled their steeds to accelerate. Brisk walks were discarded for jogs as they picked up speed, racing towards the bridge, now ever nearing. A fierce wind had picked up, buffeting them as they struggled to keep pace with the train. Further away, a sea of fog had seemed to form, riding on the winds. Within minutes, it would reach them, robbing them of the sense of sight. Nevertheless, the train pressed on. If Feng was to be deterred by the surprise storm, he was not showing it.

Trixi’s footsteps went from making short, muted sounds to loud rickety clacks, as he set foot on the wooden bridge. By this point, the fog had all but consumed them, with only the occasional lightning strike lighting up the sky. This should have been the time to appreciate the way they had constructed the flat wood bridge, to admire the Elven carvings on the side, or the olden style of architecture, but the urgency of their pace robbed Trixi of this chance.

Two low pitched bells brought the command this time, slowing the entire train down to a halt. For a moment, all was still in the misty silence.

“What the-”

“Why are we stopped?”

Trixi heard the murmurs float over from other passengers, and began to think. Feng was a tactical man, and surely had his reasons. Still, he would like to know what was going on. Most of the people travelling were not strong fighters, and already they were looking around nervously, waiting for an answer. Trixi had to admit, it was making him antsy too.

“Can you do anything about the mist?” Trixi said, asking Ruzuli for aid. “Surely you know some kind of trick to beat it back.”

“The mist is as intangible as it gets,” she responded. “I’m not very good at using light-based spells. Octavia?”

“Something’s not right.” She murmured.

“What?”

“I said something’s not right. There’s a lot of essence being used somewhere. North? North-east?” Her eyes began to glow white. “I’m going to try to get a better read on that.”

Trixi felt a faint rumble in the earth. He had spent many years studying the ways of geomancy, but this was no earth tremor. This was something large, and it was coming for them.  The rumbling grew stronger, and in an instant, a large wooden cart burst out from behind them, making all sorts of unearthly noises as it trundled towards them. A small team of goblins ran alongside it, pushing it barrelling towards the rear train, just over twenty metres away. Trixi saw the whitepowder that filled it to the brim, and with a look of horror, realized their plan.

But before he could shout a warning, Ruzuli shot forth a wide cone of flame, trading accuracy for raw power. The moment it so much as touched the cart, it instantly ignited, exploding with such force that it ripped the bridge apart, leaving a gaping hole where it had once been. The shockwave knocked Ruzuli back, surprised by the aftermath of her own power, while Trixi was forced onto one knee, bending down to endure the blast. When the wreckage had settled, the white smoke of the explosive powder mixing with the fog.

“Was that it?” Jirei whispered in a quiet voice.

As if responding to her question, another explosion rocked the bridge, this time far louder, and far more violent than the one they had just witnessed. They turned to see that a similar attack had been carried out on the front of the train, reducing one car to splinters and setting another ablaze.

To add insult to injury, the fog that had plagued them suddenly fell away, as if it had served its purpose and now bade goodbye. That in itself should have been shocking, but more shocking still were the two large ships, sailing full speed at the bridge, having cleverly used the fog to set up an ambush. Aboard the ships, goblins hung off every rope and every sail, brandishing weapons and itching for a bloodbath. So their suspicions were right. Damn it all. Right on cue, the high pitched bell broke into a frenzy, ringing over and over and over again, rousing the guards to their stations.

No path ahead, no path behind, and no escape for the besieged caravan. The battle on the bridge was about to begin.

Next Chapter ｜Start from the beginning

[literature-works]

A Different Type of Soldier Chapter 2

FMA Starwars crossover

Story Summary:  In a period of civil war, the Empire pushes the Rebel forces towards the outer reaches of the galaxy. With the Jedi Master Van Hohenheim captured and the Rebel forces stretched to their breaking point, there doesn’t seem to be any hope for them to take down the Empire. But a forgotten insignificant clone might be the answer the Rebels were looking for.

Chapter Summary: ED-0001 encourages the Cadet to become a leader.

Chapters 1/ 2/ 3/ 4/ 5/ 6/ 7/ ?

AO3

“Peter.”

“No.”

“Paul.”

“No.”

“Petunia.”

“Sir, if you don’t stop trying to find a nickname for me I will smother you in your sleep,” Cadet PT-3149 threatened.

“May the best man win, Patrick,” the Captain mocked lightly, just earning a light kick to the shins from his subordinate. He knew it would have been a rather gruesome glare, but it was hard to see facial expressions when your face was concealed behind a helmet. PT-3149 returned to his work and snipped a frayed wire on one of the harvesting droids. He was showing one of the Privates some simple mechanics so that they could get more people working on the damaged robots. It seemed that the Cadet had a secret talent for fixing machines that no one in the unit knew existed. He called it a hobby, but Imperial troops were not allowed to have hobbies.

The Captain caught sight of some movement and he looked up to see the farmer who owned the droid standing in the corner. The man was taut and watched them with cautious eyes as if they were vipers ready to strike. He was watching over them to make sure they didn’t sabotage his droid, but also to make sure that they didn’t shoot him in the back. The Captain felt that fear grow in himself as well.

After discovering the extents of the destruction in Liore after their unit’s latest harvest, he made up a rather large convoy to provide some aid. Nearly half of the buildings were destroyed in the fires and many of the farmer’s tools such as the droid were damaged. He didn’t question his soldiers about what really went down in the town. He frankly didn’t want to know. With the level of animosity there was between the citizens and their troops, it couldn’t have been good. The instant they stepped foot on the town’s soil they were already trying to be killed. Luckily, he was able to diffuse the situation before a fight broke out. If that happened, there might just be nothing left in Liore.

The Cadet stood up and allowed the Private to take over for him in finishing the job. The Captain motioned for him to follow and they quickly left the foundation of one of the few remaining houses in the village. The day was warm but not over blaringly hot which made the Captain grateful since he could only imagine running around in his armor in the desert. Across the town he saw figures of white armor racing around to help with anything that needed to get done. Large tactical tents were being set up in the fields for families whose houses no longer remained. The Captain had convinced the Supply Sergeant into lending him ten of them from the storage room. They were kept on hand for field training which they never did so he decided that they were going to be put to good use. Until the houses in the village were fully repaired, the homeless families would stay in them. They were very comfortable tents with solar heating for when the nights got chilly but they were no replacement for a house.

“Sir, did you get permission from higher up to do all of this?” the Cadet asked him nervously as they walked down the streets of Liore.

“Pfft. No,” the Captain chuckled at the Cadet’s simple question.

“B-But Captain!” he exclaimed, almost tripping over himself with the shock of his answer, “when General Greed finds out he’s going to decommission you for not following orders-“

“And what orders were those? To rape and plunder a defenseless village? I don’t think I remembered that being written in my files,” he replied sarcastically. “I am doing this because I want the General to find out. When he does, I am sure he will agree to changing up a few standards of operation.”

“You can’t change the General’s mind! You’re just going to get this entire company put under! We can’t tell a higher up how to do their job! They will kill you,” the Cadet argued. The Captain growled and grabbed the Cadet’s shoulder to stop him in his place. The street was busy, but wide, so there was space for their quiet conversation.

 “You are going to be an officer in this unit so you need to learn how to act like one,” he said stiffly. “What do you see when you look at the people in this town?” The Cadet held his head like he was confused but the Captain motioned for him to look around the small village of Liore for a moment. The man took a small disinterested glance and then shrugged.

“Farmers, common folk, nothing to get killed over.”

“That’s where you will fail,” the Captain scolded him. “Our job is to feed the legion right? With food planted by these people. Without them we have no crop. We need to take care of our suppliers, or else they will stop supplying. If we keep ransacking the villages, the farmers will be less willing to give what they made. When that happens, there will be rebellion and the Rebel Alliance will win even if they aren’t here.”

“Who would ever side with those blood thirsty thugs?” the Cadet asked but that only made ED-0001 smirk.

“With what we did to this village, blood thirsty thugs doesn’t look like a bad option. If General Greed isn’t compelled by humanitarian efforts, he might like the idea of preventing rebellion.”

They continued their walk down the street and checked up on all of their platoon leaders who were in charge of different tasks. Everything seemed to be going as smoothly as it could be though the villager were still untrusting of them. With the progress they were making, the Captain imagined them to be finishing for the day within a few hours. Nearly all of the tents were set up and he saw some droids buzzing around the town again. Things were turning out well.  However, as they started to near the fields where Desden was supposed to be discussing the next harvest, the Captain saw a rising commotion with one of the civilians. He recognized the man as the village leader. He was not one to cooperate with them, especially after everything their soldiers had done to them before. It was difficult for the Captain to talk his way through the fists the man tried to throw at him. Now it seemed there was more trouble stirring up at the scene.

“It won’t work! There is no way we can make two harvests! Even then I am sure that you are going to just steal that from us too! No matter how much we make, every year we starve!” the man yelled at his subordinate.

“Sir, I am sure that we can get our quota in without draining your food supply. It will have to be a quick season but the average crop grows-“

“These are all ifs! The frosts come early here and cut our season short. This won’t work-“

“Uh, excuse me, what’s the issue here?” the Captain asked, butting in gently. The leader turned to him, his face red and growing redder by the minute. He seemed to only yell for the sake of fighting them in any way he can. The man stepped forward, pushing Desden roughly out of the way just to get to him.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on! There is no way we can keep giving you food as we starve during the winter. This woman’s trying to make us do twice the work for two harvests which we don’t have enough time for! The frost comes too early. Then we would have no food and no seed.” The Captain looked at Desden who was standing there very unsoldier like with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked aggravated from having to argue with a thick skull for the better part of an hour. He motioned for her to step to the side for a minute so he could talk to her.

“Is this true?” he asked, knowing that while PT-3149 was a mechanic hobbyist, Desden liked botany. She knew agriculture like the back of her hand and as word of several soldiers in the unit, she was the only reason why they kept their harvested crop from rotting.

“I compiled harvesting plan for each village so that we know how much we need from each town to get our quota. There were often times where some villages were reaped dry while others were untouched. We would need the better part of a year’s harvest from every town leaving not much left to feed everyone else for the year. There could be a plan for the villages to pull in two harvests for us to get our quota and for them to have enough food, however there are too many variables to guaranteed that the crops would actually grow,” she told him, shaking her head in dismay. “But it’s the only thing we can try. There just isn’t enough time in one summer.”

The Captain frowned, and he closed his eyes in aggravated thought. He hated it that she was right. No matter what they did here, they still would be robbing a village of most of its food supply and sending them into starvation year after year. Looking at how thin the townspeople were, he knew that was already the case as well. However, as much as it looked like they couldn’t win, he didn’t want to accept failure. There was always a way. Like when the Empire was on its last limb of soldiers after the battle of the planet Ishval, the army dropped far below sustainable number. But they didn’t give up to the Rebel forces. More clones were made, like PT-3149 and they won the battle though the war was still raging. Crops were different than people but there still needed to be a way. They just needed more time. Or…. A thought occurred to as he slowly opened up his eyes and glanced down at his hands. Or they just needed to be faster. The Captain quickly spun around in his place and returned to the forgotten village leader.

“I have a solution. Give me one pound of seed for each type of crop you sow and I will give you three harvests a year,” he said.

“What? That’s impossible!” the man scolded him slowly like he was a child.

“You don’t need more time in a season, you just need the crops to grow faster. I will engineer the seeds to do that-“

“That’s-“

“Impossible,” the Captain finished for him with a smirk. “No, it’s not. I am only six years old, yet I have grown a fair amount already.”

“You still look short to me,” the leader huffed. The Captain felt a sharp spike of anger fly through him as the man blatantly insulted him. He sucked in a silent breath to choke it down however. With everyone as on edge as they were, a heated argument would only end in guns.

“I am still growing, mind you,” the Captain hissed through his teeth as he relinquished his anger to the wind. “If I can grow this fast, I am sure I can make simple seeds grow faster.”

“I don’t want contaminated stunted seeds! I don’t know what you are planning, by doing all of this, but I want no part in your Imperial cloning voodoo. You can keep that stuff to yourself!”

“And everyone else in the village?” he asked him. The leader froze not really understanding his question. “By not accepting this proposition, are you willing for your entire village to starve when you already know your second harvest as is will fail? I am sure a pound of seed is no sacrifice for you to make.” The man’s face turned burnt red and he held his hands up in the air like he wanted to choke him, but the energy was in vain. There was an instant submission as the leader realized that it was his only option.

“Someone get this monster some seeds!” he called out to the gathering farmers before storming off to brood. The Captain was glad to see some farmers fetching a couple sacks for the seeds to go into. He turned around to consult his two subordinates just to find them staring at him. He believed that underneath their bulky helmets that their faces read dumbfounded.

“What?” he asked.

“Sir, how the hell are you going to clone seeds! We don’t know anything about it!” Desden cried. “You just walked everyone into a bloody corner.”

“I have a correction to make on that statement. You don’t know anything about cloning,” he retorted snidely. This comment got PT-3419’s attention.

“Wait…. You know how we were made?” he asked him, his voice was filled with disbelief. Though clones had their process encoded on their backs at all time, they themselves did not understand it and were not allowed to. The Empire did not give them any books or knowledge that wasn’t heavily regulated. ED-0001 knew he was a very large exception for that.

“Self-taught I guess you could say,” he waved off. “I know the basics. Any more information I need is on our backs. Once decoded I can create a process designed for plants with Sergeant Desden’s help. You know a lot about botany, Sergeant. I am going to need anything you can get on the crops that these farmers have been planting. Cadet you will help me make the growing environments for them.”

“This is so farfetched. It’s science fiction and you know it,” PT 3149 yelled at him. “How do we know it will work? How will we get it done in time?” That only made the Captain laugh as he rested his arm over the Cadet’s shoulder. He looked very pissed off that he was acting so casual to the crisis but made no move to brush him off.

“How very little you think of me,” he chuckled. “But since I will be spending nearly all of my time on this, I am going to need another officer to step up and help me run the unit. Cadet Peyton, we are going to make you lieutenant material. You can start by coordinating the convoy back to the base.”

“That’s not my name!” the man cried in aggravation as he then brushed his arm off of his shoulder. “I feel like you just love pushing your work off on me.”

“That’s only one benefit. The other is seeing you get your stripes. Come on we have a lot of work to do. I need to prepare for the completely unexpecting call from the General.”

“Let’s just hope its General Greed and not Lieutenant General Lust that finds out what you are up to.”

……………..

The Captain sat on his desk chair after their long day in Liore. He had plans to send more men out by platoons the following days to continue fixing the village but now they needed to rest. They did well and deserved to relax even for a few hours. The Captain got himself a nice steaming hot shower to ease his muscles and to help his body recline. He still felt the now cooling drops of water drip down his bare back to release the tension he held. It worked to all but his mind which was racing now more than ever. He could not stop thinking about his plans for the seeds and grew aggravated the more he realized that it would take time to develop them. If he could make them tomorrow he would to keep the villages from suffering another winter hungry but alas, he couldn’t. And he feared there never would if he didn’t come up with a convincing speech to tell the Generals why he took off with several of the units supplies, made an unauthorized visit to the local villages, and was planning returning trips of similar fashion. It wouldn’t take long for the logs to go up and reach their ears. The only thing he could do was to wait and plan for the storm to come flying in.

The pen in his hand tapped angrily against the journal that was laid open in front of him. The binding was old and worn. He had it since he was only two, and was filled with odd thoughts or constructs, few of which would help him in this newest pet project or any other situation he was currently stuck in.

“Sir,” the Cadet moaned as he turned over in his bed. He was trying to get his well earned sleep especially after the completely chaotic trip home. The Cadet needed practice planning a convoy or at least reading a map. They got lost three times on a route that they must have driven a million times over. It was only the tired groan in his voice that made the Captain look at his clock which read one in the morning. With an early wake up the next day he knew that he already was missing a lot of his sleep.

“Please, go to bed,” the man begged.

“I can’t,” the Captain sighed as he continued to tap his pen against his desk.

“You can’t get anything done tonight. You can start tomorrow with your code-“

“I will feel more comfortable if I had it written down tonight,” he hummed tiredly. His eyes were sore from staring down at the blank pages in his journal as if ink would suddenly appear there and give him a divine revelation. He rubbed them with exhaustion in every twitch of his muscle before he returned to tapping his pen on the table. There was a sudden screech of mattress springs and before the Captain knew it his notebook was being torn out from underneath him without anything of a warning. As he turned to try and rip it back out of his subordinate’s hands, he found that his pen also was missing within seconds of him taking his eyes off of it.

“Sir, you aren’t going to go to bed until you have something are you?” the Cadet asked more like a statement than a question. His voice was weary and deep. Looking at the bags beneath his subordinate’s eyes made him instantly regret staying up so late. However, even after the few weeks they roomed together, the Cadet knew him better than most people. He knew that he wasn’t going to rest without progress.

The Captain nodded his head tiredly but didn’t turn around, so the Cadet could sketch his burns. The scars from the coding burns ran all the way up from his low back to the nape of his neck. He didn’t know many of the details of what they looked like because he only had a few encounters with a mirror and not enough time to study them. The brands on a clone’s back were an intimate thing. Burning metal inscribed every little detail about what you are and how you are made into your skin. For another person to even look at the design that made them unique was a rather personal endeavor that the Captain didn’t think many appreciated. He himself was uncomfortable with another person looking at his back to intently. Sure, many people caught him at a glance when he was changing his shirt, but few people really inspected it. The ones that did were mostly those who had put it there to begin with and the memories of that event was something every clone was too willing to forget.

The Cadet was patiently waiting so that he could go to bed. The man was tired and the Captain knew it, but his hesitation was growing longer and he knew he would have to make up a decision. Whether he wanted to or not, he knew his project could not continue without his branding code. He had to get them and their every detail no matter what. However, when he was making this plan he didn’t think about what it would feel like to actually do it.

“Come on, Sir,” PT-3149 gently urged. “I need to go to bed.” With that, the Captain slowly turned around so that the Cadet could start sketching the horrible scars that marred his skin. The anxiety built up in him but the Captain choked it down. He sucked in a shaky breath and closed his eyes as he felt the Cadet’s hand gently brush his hair away from his back so that he could see. His eyes traced the lines on his skin as the pencil started to sketch them down into the notebook. The Captain didn’t like being analyzed even though he had wanted it done to begin with. He needed that information to continue with his project. He needed it better than his own hand could do. It seemed even PT-3419 was acknowledging the tense air in the room and after a few moments of hesitation tried to pick up a conversation.

“Sir, are you alright-“

“Y-yeah, I just don’t like being reminded of the…. Yah know-“

“The alimentation procedures? Yeah, I don’t like remembering them either,” the Cadet mumbled. “Too many needles.”

“Too many men in lab coats,” the Captain concluded with a small smile on his face as he realized that his roommate was able to make the cloning process seem such a silly thing to fear. He heard the scratching of the pencil continue and silence filled the gaps in the room once more. ED-0001 crossed his arms against the back of his chair and nestled his head down into them tiredly. He took a deep breath in to soothe his firing nerves and smelt the soap he had used in the shower not an hour ago. He sighed as he closed his eyes, wishing that the Cadet would hurry up. Sensing his anxiety, PT3149 continued to keep conversation together to distract him. The Captain was grateful for his efforts.

“Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Don’t call me Sir, Penelope. We are roommates for heaven’s sake. If I must hear formalities all day and night my ears will fall off,” the Captain sighed, hoping that light hearted fun would get his mind to a better place. It didn’t, but helped a little.

“I will keep calling you, Sir, until I know your name,” the Cadet retorted making the Captain frown. “With all of the time you spend trying to give me a name, why don’t you have your own?”

“I do have one, but I do not use it,” he muttered, as he turned his eyes down to the floor. There was a pause as the Cadet waited him to continue but he didn’t. He hadn’t thought about his name in years. It wasn’t an easy conversation and like his scars, it was one he would rather keep to himself. But his roommate was relentless.

“What is it? You can’t have a name and not tell me. Is it bad? Is it Egor or something?”

“No.”

“Then why have a name if you don’t use it?” his subordinate asked along with a small command for him to straighten his back. The scratching of the pen on paper continued even as the Cadet argued with him. The Captain sighed and straightened his back, feeling all of the vertebrae tighten in it. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder to where his subordinate was standing in his black under armor the soldiers used to sleep in. The tall clone was staring with full focus on his back to make the careful sketch of his scars. Even with his attention on his work, the Captain knew that he was listening full heartedly into the conversation. He understood what he was going to say and would not take it lightly. He had only been roommates with the Cadet for a few days, but even then, he knew that they were going to be great friends. He would possibly be the first friend that he ever had.

“There is a difference between being completely nameless and just choosing to be,” the Captain told his subordinate slowly. His words were heavy, and the Cadet’s dark eyes flickered up to him for only a short second before returning to his work. “Having a name gives someone an identity, unique to themselves. Even if you don’t use it, it is better to have one so you know who you are. You need a name, PT-3149,” the Captain continued softly as his voice faded to a whisper. Though his words were heavy, they weren’t loud. The weight they carried was enough to carry the point across. He was searching for a name to give the Cadet individuality. He didn’t want him imagining that the only thing he was worth was an expendable soldier in the Empire. They were much more than that, though PT-3149 seemed to have forgotten that fact.

He heard the pen stop for a second and he knew that the Cadet was going to ask why he didn’t use his own name if identity was so important to him. The Captain hadn’t told anyone his name or who had given it to him since he had left for the safety of the Empire’s mother ship for the chaotic mess of the Clone Troops. It was a safe secret between him and one other person who probably forgotten he existed at all. That person was there since the beginning, and understood him far better than anyone else in the universe, even before he was branded. They trained together, lived together, they did everything together until the one fateful day ED-0001 messed up. Now he was millions of miles away on a forgetful planet farming crop for the rest of his life.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” the Captain interrupted the Cadet as he went to ask the question he knew he would. The man instantly closed his mouth instantly as to not look like a gaping idiot. The scratching of the pen picked back up without second thought. “My name was given to me by someone very special. He is the only one that knows it. I would like to keep it that way. We have been apart for so long though, I don’t know if he even remembers me,” he chuckled like it was a joke. It wasn’t. And the Cadet didn’t laugh. Silence filled the room once more and the scratching of the pencil soon halted, and the Captain found his journal returned to him. He looked down to see that the page had a perfect sketch of his back on it. The writing was clear and each line was drawn with the precision of an architect. The Captain smiled back at his subordinate just to find that he had sneaked back off to his bed without a word. His long legs were curled up on the mattress and his tall form was scrunched up into a tiny ball just to fit. Though he appeared to be uncomfortable, he was already fast asleep.

The Captain frowned as he glanced back down to his journal. He glanced down to the bottom of the page where there was a scratchy signature similar to what an artist would put on the bottom of a painting or an architect on the bottom of blueprints. He saw the sharp letters and read them closely, memorizing the name of the man who had made the small piece of work in his journal. Pitt. The Captain grinned and gently closed his book and placed it back on the shelf above his desk. It appeared that his PT-3149 had found his name.

……….

[daziechane]

Bear the Babies, Bear the Brunt

(an essay for English 306, Environmental Literature, University of Kansas, Spring 2016)

Bear the Babies, Bear the Brunt

“By slow violence, I mean a violence that occurs gradually, and out of sight, a violence of delayed destruction that is dispersed across time and space, an attritional violence that is typically not viewed as violence at all.” (Nixon, 2)

 “That night our mother went to the shop and she didn’t come back. Ever.”  (Gordimer, 11)  With those few words, Nadine Gordimer sums up the bleak reality that many women and children face when affected by slow violence as Rob Nixon describes it. Whether it be from erosion picking away at their fields, or from aftermath of war dooming them to becoming refugees, women and children across the globe bear the brunt of delayed destruction.  In The Ultimate Safari, a small family of orphans, displaced by war, accompanies their grandparents across dangerous Kruger Park to reach relative safety.  This story brings up important points about being women or children faced with not only the real and present dangers of wild animals or warring factions, but women and children faced with the "slow" dangers of malnutrition, access to healthcare, and the burdens women especially must take on when men aren't around.

In The Ultimate Safari, the family is often without any food, and almost always without nourishing food. "Little Brother" suffers the most, with a healthcare worker suggesting to his sister that "there's something wrong with his head, she thinks it's because we didn't have enough food at home, Because of the war. Because our father wasn't there." (Gortimer, 18) More to the point, because of the war, the family lost what little it had in terms of farmland, livestock, and income.          

"Our grandfather used to have three sheep and a cow and a vegetable garden but the bandits had long ago taken the sheep and the cow, because they were hungry, too; and when planting time came our grandfather had no seed to plant." (Gortimer, 12)  

While this story is a fictional account, access to the benefits of healthy food is a focal point for many environmental justice studies, including that of Alison Hope Alkon and Kari Marie Norgaard, whose study Breaking the Food Chains: An Investigation of Food Justice Activism revealed

"Through access to land and water, black farmers and Karuk fishermen once provided  the bulk of their community's food needs.  Today, West Oakland residents and Karuk tribal members live in food deserts.  They cannot purchase what they once produced on their own."  (Hope, 300)

Alkon and Norgaard also discovered that "because of the greatly reduced ability...to provide healthy food to their community, the Karuk experience extremely high rates of hunger and disease."  (Hope, 299) Diseases such as diabetes and heart disease are markedly higher in both populations that were studied, and it is attributed to the fact that the communities have been denied access to traditional food sources, such as family farms and rivers full of fish.  

           Little Brother’s health problems also highlight another sad fact of slow violence, that of poor, indigenous peoples’ inadequate access to adequate healthcare, as well as increased exposure to environmental contaminants. In their study Indigenous Peoples of North America: Environmental Exposure and Reproductive Justice, Elizabeth Hoover et al. examined the fact that 

“Indigenous American communities face disproportionate health burdens and environmental health risks compared with the average North American population. These health impacts are issues of both environmental and reproductive justice.”  (Hoover, 1645)    

What the team discovered was that after years of poor treatment and historic antagonism toward non-native governments, some native communities deliberately avoided seeking help and assisting research that would alleviate continued illness in the community.  

           It would be easy for some to write off Hoover’s work as being “just” about Indigenous Americans, and fail to see the bigger picture of healthcare and environmental impacts on groups of lower socioeconomic standing worldwide, but a recent study Climate change and fetal health: The impacts of exposure to extreme temperatures in New York City, penned by Nicole S. Ngo and Radley M. Horton, researchers found that “increasing heat events from climate change could adversely impact birth weight.”  (Ngo, 158)  Their study focused on New York City, “not only due to its large urban population of 8.4 million, but because temperatures in NYC increased approximately 1.5℃ between 1901 and 2011.”  (Ngo, 158)   This is obviously of worldwide concern, and even more so as we consider Little Brother’s upbringing in sub-Saharan Africa.  Researcher Kyle Clendinning wrote “Projections show that the African continent is likely to warm this century with the largest temperature increases occurring in the drier sub-tropical regions.” (Clendinning)  It is also interesting to note that Clendenning went on to say “As environmental resources decline due to climate change, so too will the livelihoods of those dependent upon them. Taken together, these challenges can increase the prospects for violent conflict.” (Clendinning)  Since Little Brother was born during wartime, in sub-Saharan Africa, we can postulate that maternal stress, poor nutrition, and excessive heat all contributed to his health problems during and after his family’s relocation.  

           Nadine Gordimer contrasts Little Brother’s weakness (albeit- weakness not his fault) with the strength of Gogo, the grandmother.  Interestingly enough, Gogo is the only person in The Ultimate Safari who is granted a name.  This alone would set her apart in the story, but her actions go further.  Unlike patriarchal family structure more familiar to Western readers, Gogo’s family organization is decidedly matriarchal.   From the very start of the story, we see what the children’s mother had to do after their father had gone, she fixed the roof after “bandits” burned the village, she walked through a decimated village to get oil for cooking.   After mother’s disappearance, Gogo took on the responsibility of the children’s safety, even though she was already dealing with a husband who had some problems of his own.  Gogo scavenged for greens for the family, she sold her clothes, even her church shoes, all to help her little family make the arduous journey through Kruger Park.  When it came time to make the decision to remain looking for her husband or helping the children to shelter, Gogo put her own needs aside and made sure the children were safe.  Time and again she was forced by circumstance to make tough decisions, and to bear the brunt of the family’s problems.  

While this matriarchal hierarchy might seem unusual to Western readers, African women in the past were traditionally farmers and cultivators. However, due to “the colonial bureaucracy’s authoritarian paternalism” (Nixon, 139), women were supplanted in their role of provider by men, often with disastrous effects, such as the soil erosion in Kenya due to deforestation that drove Wangari Maathai to start her Green Belt Movement. According to Rob Nixon, in his chapter on Maathai,

“Rural women suffered the perfect storm of dispossession: colonial land theft; the individualizing and masculinizing of property; and the experience of continuing to be the primary tillers of the land under increasingly inclement circumstances, including soil erosion and the stripping of the forests. As forests and watersheds become degraded, it was the women who had to walk the extra miles to fetch water and firewood; it was the women who had to plough and plant in once rich but now denuded land.” (Nixon, 140)  

Even though it was her husband who’d had the livestock, and who had looked for the children’s mother with help from young men from the village, it was Gogo who shouldered the burden of getting everyone to safety as best as possible.  “So they decided - our grandmother did; our grandfather made little noises and rocked from side to side, but she took no notice - we would go away.” (Gordimer, 12)

           In this way, Gogo echos strong women of the past, including Rosie the Riveter, and even my own grandmother, Lois Allen, who was a schoolteacher in rural Nevada, serving mostly poor areas.  In a recent biography of Allen, my mother Shirley Mink wrote:                        

“At one point during the summertime construction, there was a spate of vandalism, broken windows, graffiti, and the like.  Sun Valley still had no law enforcement quartered in the community, so Lois decided she would prevent further damages.  Every evening for a few weeks, she took her dog, drove to the school from her home in Sparks, and remained there overnight.  She made sure the word got out that there would be someone in the building at night, and the vandalism stopped.”  (Mink, 3)

Just as Gogo sold her belongings to ensure her family’s safety, Lois Allen did what she had to do to make sure “her” children had what they needed (ie: a school) to succeed, even though they were poor and from a rural area.

           We can look at The Ultimate Safari as a thrilling adventure story, full of outlaws and wild animals, we can see it as a commentary on postcolonial ecotourism, or we can view it as an ecological justice piece, which reveals the delayed destruction and attritional violence that Rob Nixon describes, especially as it affects women and children.  As the narrator of the story says “We were in the war, too, but we were children...we didn’t have guns.  (Gordimer, 11)

  Works Cited

Alkon, Alison Hope, and Kari Marie Norgaard. "Breaking the Food Chains: An Investigation of Food Justice Activism*." Sociological Inquiry 79.3 (2009): 289-305. Web.

Clendinning, Kyle. "Climate Change and Conflict: The Implications for Sub-Saharan Africa." Earth Reform. 23 Apr. 2012. Web. 10 Mar. 2016.

Gordimer, Nadine. "The Ultimate Safari." 10 Years of the Caine Prize for African Writing.  Oxford: New Internationalist, 2009. Print.

Hoover, Elizabeth, Katsi Cook, Ron Plain, Kathy Sanchez, Vi Waghiyi, Pamela Miller, Renee Dufault, Caitlin Sislin, and David O. Carpenter. "Indigenous Peoples of North America: Environmental Exposures and Reproductive Justice." Environ Health Perspect Environmental Health Perspectives (2012). Web.

Mink, Shirley L. "A Biography of Lois Allen." Biography.

Ngo, Nicole S., and Radley M. Horton. "Climate Change and Fetal Health: The Impacts of Exposure to Extreme Temperatures in New York City." Environmental Research 144 (2016): 158-64. Web.

Nixon, Rob. Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 2011. Print.

[blockheadbrands]

Buzzes & Bummers: 2018 Was a Wild Ride in the World of Cannabis

David Bienenstock of Leafly Reports:

It took a whole lot of rolling (joints) and scrolling (old news feeds) to complete a thorough review of the most important, inspiring and infuriating stories about cannabis from the past year—and no doubt I still missed a few along the way. In my defense, 2018 has been a wild ride in the world of weed, a 12-month timespan which truly could be called “the best of times and the worst of times,” or perhaps just the highest and lowest of times.

My personal year in cannabis began on New Year’s Day, when I waited in line along with countless other Californians to buy some cannabis on the first day of legal adult-use sales. The fact that I was already stoned before I made my purchase would seem to indicate that it wasn’t exactly difficult to find cannabis in the Golden State prior to this momentous occasion, but that’s kind of besides the point.

And cannabis just kept getting legal-er and legal-er all year, including in Vermont, Michigan, Missouri, Utah, and the entire nation of Canada (see more below). Election Night also ushered in new, pro-legalization governors in so-far not legalized Illinois, Connecticut, Maine, Minnesota, and New Mexico, and also saw the defeat of staunch cannabis opponent Pete Sessions, who’s been blocking cannabis legislation for years.

And then you scroll a little further down and discover that the new Farm Bill is going to legalize hemp farming in the United States for the first time in eighty years (huzzah!). Or that Big Tobacco just invested $2.4 billion dollars in the weed business (fuck!). Or that Thailand is blazing a trail in Asia—where cannabis laws are often draconian and harshly enforced—by legalizing medical use (yes!). Or assholes like recently retired Speaker of the House John Boehner think that after decades of pushing prohibition they deserved to get rich off cannabis (oh, hell no!).

It’s honestly hard to know what to think these days. Perhaps my new year’s resolution for 2019 will be more rolling, less scrolling! But until then, here are the buzzes and bummers 2018 had to offer.

Buzz: Vermont Legalizes Adult-Use Cannabis

Less than two weeks into 2018, Vermont lawmakers gave final approval to a bill legalizing adult-use cannabis, and the governor subsequently signed it into law, making it the first state to end prohibition through the legislature rather than a direct vote of citizens.

Bummer: Big Tobacco Makes Moves in Cannabis

It’s no longer a question of if Big Tobacco and the booze barons will enter the cannabis market, but rather how aggressively they’ll move in and how much market share they’ll manage to gobble up.

Neither corporate giant lifted a finger to help legalize cannabis or bring justice to the millions of people who’ve been incarcerated or had their lives disrupted as a result of prohibition.

In August, Constellation Brands (brewers of Corona beer) spent $4 billion to massively up their stake in Canopy Growth, which in 2014 became the first publicly traded cannabis company in North America, and now lists on both the New York Stock Exchange and the Toronto Stock Exchange.

And then in December, Altria (formerly Phillip Morris) made a $1.8 billion investment in Cronos, a Canadian cannabis company, which includes an option to take a controlling stake in the future. As first reported by Leafly, Altria has “over the past five years quietly patented dozens of devices that could be used to consume marijuana, a review of public documents at the US Patent and Trademark Office shows.”

Important to note: Neither corporate giant lifted a finger to help legalize cannabis or bring justice to the millions of people around the world who’ve been incarcerated or had their lives disrupted as a result of prohibition. And Altria in particular comes to the table with a long track record of corporate malfeasance, which is why they changed their name in the first place.

Buzz: Bong Wick Fighting Crime

On September 6, four men burst into the Recreational Cannabis Farmers Market in Shannonville, Canada, spraying a can of bear mace and screaming “get down.” The plan was allegedly to rob the place blind, but as they say in the action movies, these punks picked the wrong dispensary.

Despite being outnumbered and taken by surprise, John Wick—the store’s clerk—reached down below the register, pulled out a borosilicate glass bong, and prepared to defend his turf. As captured in the store’s surveillance video, the four cowardly criminals were clearly no match for a good guy with a bong.

Bummer: The Cost of Legal CBD

What would you call someone who spends $32,500 a year on cannabis that doesn’t get you high? GW Pharmaceuticals will soon call them customers, because that’s how much patients are estimated to shell out for Epidiolex, a cannabis-derived treatment for seizure disorders that was approved in June by the FDA, rescheduled by the DEA in September (though only Epidiolex was rescheduled, not CBD itself) and is currently moving rapidlythrough phase III clinical trials.

There’s nothing to justify the sky-high price (about $90 per day) beyond the cost of research and development to win FDA approval.

Marinol (synthetic THC) has been available by prescription since 1986, and other synthetic cannabinoid drugs are in the works, but Epidiolex is the first plant-derived pharmaceutical to reach the US market. It was fast tracked through the approval process in response to parents of severely epileptic children pushing for a way to legally use CBD, after seeing it work wonders for children profiled in a 2013 CNN documentary called Weed, hosted by Dr. Sanjay Gupta.

Bringing pharmaceutical CBD to market will make it available to patients in every state (with a doctor’s prescription), allow it to be covered by health insurance, and guarantee a product that’s produced to high standards.

But there’s nothing to justify the sky-high price (about $90 per day) beyond the cost of research and development to win FDA approval and Big Pharma’s insatiable thirst for profits. No wonder GW has been working behind the scenes to lobby for a de-facto monopoly on legal CBD.

Because here’s the recipe, which includes nothing expensive:

EPIDIOLEX (cannabidiol) oral solution is a clear, colorless to yellow liquid containing cannabidiol at a concentration of 100 mg/mL. Inactive ingredients include dehydrated alcohol, sesame seed oil, strawberry flavor, and sucralose.

Buzz: Canada Legalizes Adult-Use Cannabis

On October 17, Canada made history by becoming the second nation (after Uruguay) to federally legalize adult-use cannabis. Leafly provided coast-to-coast coverage, and threw a party called the “Bud Drop” with a countdown to the big moment when the clock struck midnight.

We even got you ready to roll with a comprehensive list of the best Canadian cannabis strains of all time, including Island Sweet Skunk, Romulan, and Jean Guy.

Bummer: Patients Are Still Struggling for Cannabis Access

John Flickner, a 78-year-old resident of Niagara Falls, New York, was evicted from his federally subsidized housing in December of this year for using a vape pen. The facility, which has a “zero tolerance” policy on “drug use” (except alcohol and pharmaceuticals) kicked Flickner to the curb in the freezing cold despite the fact that he uses a wheelchair and has a doctor’s recommendation to consume medical cannabis per state law.

All because federal law still sees him as a wonton criminal. So he ended up in a homeless shelter. Thankfully, a public outcry led his old landlords to allow him back home.

Buzz: Utah Legalized Medical Cannabis

In October, as Utah citizens prepared to vote on Proposition 2, a statewide medical cannabis ballot initiative, Democratic state senator Jim Dabakis decided to head out on a fact-finding trip—in more ways than one. Claiming he’d never tried cannabis before in his life, Dabakis drove to Nevada, bought a cannabis-infused gummy, and then posted a live video feed of himself on social media as he ate the edible.

“I think the reefer madness crowd—you guys, you need to try it.”Sen. Jim Dabakis (D-UT)

“I think the reefer madness crowd—you guys, you need to try it,” Dabakis told the world. “It’s not that big a deal.”

On election night, Proposition 2 passed with sizable majority, but instead of enacting the law as written, lawmakers in Utah signed off on a “compromise bill” that’s more restrictive than Proposition 2 but has wider political support.

Bummer: “Just Say No to Nazi Weed”

Bethany Sherman, formerly the owner of OG Analytics, a cannabis testing lab in Oregon, filed a defamation lawsuit in October against online anti-fascist activists after they exposed her alleged ties to local white nationalists.

She claims that when Antifa activists publicized her posts to social media and message boards, they took them “out of context.” Then she hired an attorney to defend her who is a self-described white nationalist.

Allegations against Sherman included that she baked swastika-shaped cookies for a celebration of Adolf Hitler’s birthday (which is also, coincidentally, 4/20). The lawsuit is still pending, but in the meantime, just say no to Nazi weed and check out the real story of 4/20 for a highly inspiring tale that represents the best of cannabis culture.

Buzz: Cannabis Equity Programs Expand Opportunities

In late November, Blunt + Moore, the first dispensary to get permitted as part of Oakland, California’s far reaching cannabis equity program, held their grand opening in a small, sleek retail space just across the highway from Oracle Arena, home of the Golden State Warriors.

The shop’s proprietor, Alphonso T Blunt, Jr., is a 31-year-old, fourth generation Oakland resident who started selling cannabis when he was just 16. He qualified for the equity program based on a previous felony conviction, and having lived in a neighborhood disproportionately targeted for cannabis arrests.

Blunt told Leafly’s David Downs he could never have made it into the legal industry without the program’s assistance in getting licensed and attracting investors.

“Had you asked me even a year ago, I thought it wouldn’t happen. I can’t even put into words how it feels.”

But reviews of the equity program have been mixed, with critics arguing it so far has a disappointing track record for actually bringing equity-approved businesses online.

The effort has meanwhile inspired other municipalities and states to follow suit. In September, California passed a statewide Cannabis Equity Act, and undoing the damage of the War on Drugs has now become a standard part of the legalization conversation around the world.

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https://www.leafly.com/news/politics/buzzes-bummers-2018-was-a-wild-ride-in-the-world-of-cannabis