#this is evidence that i have no idea what a wasps nest looks like

[treesareredinautumn]

Passage from The Magnus Archives

[poisonnxkki]

Witchcraft & The Art of Foraging🌱

What Does Foraging Even Mean?

If you look up the definition of foraging on google, it means to search and gather food and provisions from the wilderness and although I love the idea of being able to eat the things I use in my witchcraft that isn’t usually safe or necessary. When I use the term foraging in witchcraft I simply mean gathering the necessary provisions for a spell from outdoor spaces. Of course foraging isn't limited to spell work and you could just as easily forage for offerings but the key here is that these items come from the wilderness around you.

Local Foraging Spaces & What To Avoid:

When looking for spaces to forage, any spaces can work. The plant life that can be found at a local park is likely to be just as useful and worth exploring as any other forest or river in your area. Whats most important is remaining respectful to the plants and animals (both living and spirit) who live in that area. A great way to do that is to bring offerings or perform a task (ex. picking up trash) as an offering for that area. Being aware of what animals live in the area and avoiding them (and their habitats) is also a great way of remaining respectful.

Make sure that you have some way of identifying the plants you are foraging for, this prevents accidentally picking something that is toxic or endangered. I use an app on my phone but there are many books and websites that can be used for this instead. Only forage a small portion of what is growing, over-harvesting native plant life is dangerous and disrupts local ecosystems. Also, understanding what active habitats look like can help prevent accidental damage. I have found empty wasps/bees nests while foraging but it is important to make sure that they are no longer being used before taking them.

Foraging For Bones:

Bones are an item that many people look for when foraging and although they can be difficult to find, they are often the most exciting. I've found many bones while foraging and taking these, especially if there is evidence of scavenging on them, is usually okay. Just remember to give an offering and treat the bones with respect. If you decide to use the bones as tools (for bone divination, etc.) making sure it is okay with the spirit of that animal is a great way to show your respect.

If you are not sure about how to clean the bones you find, there are several youtube videos and websites that will provide more information on cleaning and care. You may also decide that you wish to purchase bones instead of foraging for them (which is totally okay!) just make sure that you are purchasing from a place that is reputable and sources them ethically (I've heard Etsy is good place to find ethically sourced bones).

*First and second photos are from Pinterest and the third photo was taken by me while foraging at a local park*

[sussex-nature-lover]

Saturday 27 August 2022

Mixed Bag Pics

A mixed bag of photos from a mixed bag week, especially weather-wise. As we’ve had some heavy rain, my potted birthday roses have perked up. Above is Roald Dahl, which has about 14 other buds formed. Dame Judi Dench and the Lady of Shallot have 16 and 10 respectively. Lovely, especially as the rest of the garden is looking so Autumnal and the geraniums and nicotiana are pretty much over now. I’m going to have a serious count of my pots and planning for next year.

We do have got some other colour from the huge hibiscus, but a second, darker pink one isn’t doing too well really. I must look at it and see if it might benefit from pruning, or at least the surrounding shrubs cutting away.

We’ve only heard early hours drumming once I think and it looks like the bug hotel survived it intact. There is activity, but nowhere near so much as down by the pond where it looks like wasps have made a nest near to one of the log piles. I must’ve taken twenty odd photos but of course, not a single one with a wasp, if that’s what they are, in it. Typical. Of course they could be a kind of bee, I can’t see them clearly enough to tell, but I do know that under the eaves by one of the bedrooms there’s an awful lot of wasp activity, so we know there’s going to be a nest there.

Best I can offer is a view of the big hole in the middle of the photo. There’s a steady stream of them in and out all the time. As the giant rhubarb’s all died back now, I wanted to clean up the area, maybe put more bark down and finish off the pond area now the water level’s much higher, but I’m keeping my distance, particularly as I’ve had several big bites this week. No idea what’s been biting me, but it’s been through my clothes and some of them are quite nasty looking, not to mention the torment of the itching.

A couple of photos taken from a distance into the woods. My plant app says the one above is giant cow parsnip, which can be a tricky customer, causing burning and blistering on the skin but I haven’t been close to inspect it 

Cow parsnip resembles giant hogweed but is much smaller, lacks the red spots on the stems, and is far less dangerous. Giant hogweed stalks are mottled red like its close relative poison hemlock. Cow parsnip stems are solid green.

and of course, below is one of our very many blackthorns sporting sloes already. Over the years there are more and more springing up. They’re not a gardener’s friend for sure, but they do make a very effective security cordon. Those thorns are vicious.

Not much of a photo here but I’m so pleased my new delphinium’s put out some flower spikes after the first ones were chewed off by an anonymous marauder and Crow accidentally dug up the ones I used to love.

My bird seed sunflowers never did make it into the ground because the heat wave struck and I didn’t get around to it, but they’re still coming on in formation.

My plan to move all the stones and put more weed-proof membrane down fell prey to the weather too and of course now the little cyclamen are blooming again I’m going to feel very mean when we get around to that job.

Two things have really caught my eye this week. The first is this repurposed cat litter tray which has been adopted by the house sparrows and the blackbirds. They absolutely love it. It’s been the hit of Summer. Sometimes there’s a queue waiting to hop on to the stones to drink and bathe and they fly off to the nearby obelisk to watch as they dry off. It’s just so sweet. I’m really pleased I did it.

No evidence of the other event. I was lying on the bed and Crow was looking out of the window. He’d said something funny and we were both laughing when there was a WOOOSH past our eyeline, accompanied by a deafening cackle. Turned out it was Inspector Pritchard flying, yes proper flying like a witch on a broomstick. He landed and continued a weird honking for quite a while. I think something next door must’ve frightened him and of course without his long tail feathers, he can take flight more easily.  It was very impressive and absolutely cracked us up. That last, annoying, broken, stubborn quill, has gone now too, so he’s looking very tidy again, especially as he hasn’t lost his crown as yet like he did in last year’s moult.

In other family news, the newest member of the Nature Watch clan is doing very well indeed, growing and giggling, she’s an absolute joy. And the eldest of the next generation is going to be celebrating her wedding next month. It’s suddenly coming around so quickly. We’re keeping our fingers firmly crossed for a beautiful day as we know she’s going to be a very beautiful bride. We’ve pre-ordered our wedding meals from a tempting choice and am looking forward to the feast already. Looking forward to all of it actually, it’s going to be a second spark of pure joy for 2022.

More random bits of nonsense on my other Tumblr page called Sussex Nature.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Angst #9

Hahahaha, so uh... you wanted angst? You got it. It may not be exactly what you wanted but it’s what came to mind when you sent this prompt. 

This turned out wayyyyy longer than I intended but 🤷🏼‍♀️. I always overwrite 😂💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️.

Context I think necessary to know for this prompt is that it’s set four years Post-Mockingjay, three years post “so after”, and I think that’s all you need to know? 

Oh yeah, and I should also mention that I definitely took creative liberties here. And also, trigger warning for choking.

Prompt: Angst “Did it mean anything to you? Did I mean anything to you?”

"Peeta," I yelp as he playfully splashes me. "Stop."

"Get in here," he demands, pointing to the water his whole body is immersed in.

"No," I refuse, laying on my back, maybe a little teasingly. "I just dried off."

Today was a particularly sunny day, with the bright light from outside our windows rousing us from bed even before our usual wake up time. I know the people of Twelve will be disappointed they can't get their bread and pastries today--especially seeing that Sunday is the most popular day at the Mellark Bakery--but I just couldn't pass up a lazy day at the lake with Peeta.

Still though, I didn't get as much sleep as I've grown accustomed to and after hours of swimming in the lake—and, jokingly, teaching Peeta to find katniss roots—I'm lethargic. My exhausted body is perfectly happy to lay in the grass with the sun beating down on me, either darkening or burning my skin.

But Peeta, it would seem, has other plans.

"Don't you dare," I hiss as his cacophonous footsteps approach. Even without the noise he still makes when he moves, the sound of dripping water would have given him away.

Not listening to me and definitely not heeding my warning—either he's grown fearless in the four years since the war or I've lost my bite and grown soft on him—Peeta reaches down and grabs me up by the waist, easily hoisting me up into his arms.

"Did you say you dared me?"

"Peeta," I try to command, as a last ditch effort, before bracing myself for what I know is coming.

Like clockwork, just as I have my eyes shut and sucked in a breath, Peeta tosses me in the deepest part of the lake before jumping back in himself.

I easily push my head above the surface just as he creates a massive splash of water with his impact.

"You're going to drain the lake," I complain as his hands find themselves on my hips, pulling me in closer. I go without resistance, but remain annoyed he just tossed me back in the water.

His lips find residence on my cheek, trailing lower and lower, underneath my jaw and down my neck, a non-verbal apology.

"Is all this water really good for your prosthetic?" I murmur after a long moment, some of the irritation fading from my body as he kisses down my shoulder softly.

"My leg is waterproof, Katniss," he reminds, chuckling a little.

"Oh yeah," I try to respond but his lips trail down to my chest, pushing me up higher against him, and speaking becomes difficult. "Generous of them," is all I can manage.

He lets out a real laugh this time. "Can always depend on the generosity of the Capitol, can’t we?" He quips just as I capture his lips with my own.

I don't know if in the last three years that we’ve been together I've become a better kisser—I've definitely become more experienced—and I can't say for certain if our kisses feel any different now to him, but I do know for a fact that Peeta has grown leaps and bounds with time. His lips, which were always soft and warm, now move with expertise, now hold a confidence I didn't realize was missing all that time we were putting on a show. Kissing Peeta now is another kind of experience and one I never knew I needed, one I never thought to ask for, before I had it.

Of course, I get some credit here. I am the one who's lips have given him the practice, who's tongue has freely wrestled with his, the one who he's gained all his expertise from.

As we pull apart for air, my face lolling down into his shoulder, burrowing there, I hear a peculiar sound. One I don't cognitively recognize at first but my sense memory captures instantly. It's a sound that makes my stomach twist and lurch before I can comprehend exactly why.

Peeta tenses too, rather abruptly. I feel his hands grip my thighs tighter to him, almost wrapping me around him, as if to keep me protected from whatever is buzzing above us.

The buzzing only gets stronger—so much stronger, in only a matter of seconds—and I have to consciously force myself to breathe as it hits me where that sound is coming from.

Tracker jackers. A whole lot of them.

Someone, somewhere, must have knocked over a nest. Someone must have been both unlucky and careless and somehow expelled an entire hive by mistake.

That's what I tell myself, at least. That this was purely a mistake. That this isn't an attack, set out to hurt us, to endanger us for deadly entertainment labeled a game.

Because unleashing a whole hive of tracker jackers on us, while we're out alone, secluded, in the middle of the woods, is the exact kind of thing the Gamemakers would do.

"Katniss," Peeta whispers, his voice close to my ear now. I can tell instantly that he's petrified.

Of course he's petrified. Tracker jacker venom is exactly what he was injected with, over and over again, in an attempt to destroy his memory, his mind, the very essence of his being.

"Katniss?" He says again, a little louder and a little rougher. But I'm still too shocked to move. I'm useless, completely frozen in place while the horrible creatures, that are deadly in large quantities—just ask Glimmer—finally come into view, circulating above us.

"We need to run," he urges, and I don't have to look at him to know his blue eyes are desperate.

Nodding blankly, I don't take my eyes off of the venomous creatures flying over our heads. Somehow, a very sore, exhausted part of my brain wakes back up and I feel myself go into survival mode.

A mode in which I had wished to never transition into again.

My legs unwrap from Peeta's waist and I interlock our fingers, squeezing his hand as tightly as I can. I swim to the edge of the lake, towing him behind me, and climb onto the grass just as I hear the buzzing grow closer.

Peeta is only inches, if even that, behind me, and we both grab our shirts and pants from the blanket we set out and dress ourselves while moving through the trees. Our soaked skin makes this more challenging but not altogether impossible, and soon I feel Peeta's hand yanking on mine, propelling me forward.

I know he's even more afraid than I am when I realize he's running ahead of me, dragging me behind him. Peeta is by far a slower runner than I am. The idea that there's enough fear in him to compensate for a naturally slower gait and a fake leg makes my heart ache.

I hear the tracker jackers still getting closer though, no matter how fast we move. It's not a surprising, really, as when these creatures were designed, they were made to lock in on a target and chase it down until it died. After all, they were made to be a weapon in the first war.

And they were used as one in both.

I feel myself let out a loud sigh of relief as the sound of the wasps begins to fade away, as we come closer and closer to the edge of the woods.

Still, it isn't enough. It's never enough.

Peeta's prosthetic does better than I cynically imagined but in the end, it gives out just as I knew it would and he goes tumbling face-first down into the dirt and branches. I didn’t see it but I can tell by the way his leg, his only real leg, is scraped up, that it must have gotten caught on the fallen branches strewed across the ground.

"Peeta!" I scream, louder than I intend to. Louder than I know I should.

I kneel down beside him, adrenaline still pumping through my veins like red, hot blood, and I yank and tug at his arm, trying to force him to stand and run again, as my wail evidently alerted a few stray wasps that hadn't entirely disappeared yet.

"Peeta," I cry out now, desperation taking over my entire being. "We have to move." I try to push him to stand, to move forward, but he's shaking his head with a sad, defeated expression.

"Katniss, just run," he orders firmly, his voice surprisingly strong. "Leave me here, I'll be okay."

I give him an incredulous look, so shocked by his statement that I completely ignore the small growing buzz flying closer and closer by the second. "Peeta, I'm not leaving you!" I exclaim, as if the thought is outright offensive. Because to me, it is. "You can't honestly think I'm going to abandon you-"

"Katniss, please!" He snaps now, his eyes getting desolate. "Please, just go! I'll be home as soon as I can-"

"No! You're coming with me!" I demand furiously. Just as I am preparing to quickly stand and drag him by force out of these woods, his baby blue eyes widen fiercely and he envelopes me into his arms, shoving my body underneath his.

It all happens in a matter of seconds. Peeta holds me down the way he used to hold his opponents down in a wrestling match, paralyzing me into place, and I can't move to escape, to try and run and drag him with me.

I don't understand what he's doing though, what his true intent may be, until I feel through him, through his body that is sheltering mine, the vibrations of the tracker jackers' stingers.

I don't know how many times he gets stung but it's not enough to kill him—especially not him, who has such a high tolerance after the abuse he was subjected to—but enough to hurt him. Enough to have an effect.

Enough that only seconds after the creatures fly away, he flings himself upwards, attempting to get as far away from me as humanly possible. Attempting to put as much distance between us as his distorting mind will allow.

"Peeta!" I cry out again, plainly reaching for him. It doesn't click in my head what could be happening. It doesn't seem even real anymore, after four years home without a single episode, after three years of bliss together, that he could ever again become that dark, twisted shell of a person he was in Thirteen.

"Stay away from me!" He hisses and I recoil instinctively into a tree trunk behind me. His stumbles backward and snaps a branch with his prosthetic leg. The sound is enough to set him off and he practically snarls down towards the ground.

I don't know what he's seeing, what terrifying hallucination is taking over his psyche. I can't even imagine where his mind is right now, but I know that’s horrifying.

"Peeta, it's okay," I try again, but my voice is breaking and I must have started crying at some point and my eyes are wide and displaying just how blatantly unnerved I feel and I know I'm of no comfort right now. Still, I can't stop myself from saying, "it's just a tree branch, Peeta. Nothing is going to hurt you out here, I swear."

"Except you," he states, so blankly, so matter-of-fact, that I visibly flinch as he turns the gaze of his cold, dark eyes on me.

The sweet blue sky that live inside his irises are long gone and in their place is a blackened night and I haven't seen it in so long, I actually forgot what it looked like.

"Peeta," I whisper now, knowing it's fruitless to say anything, to try and get through. But I just can't leave him here, alone, when he's been hurt, when he's still suffering from what Snow did to him to destroy me.

His hands shake and he clutches the roots of the tree beside him to the point of pain. As if the wood can keep him in place. As if the wood can stop him from reacting to the venom like his every impulse is surely screaming to.

"Go away," he spats at me, his teeth clenching together so tight I'm afraid he'll chip them. "Would you just go!"

"No!" I yell stubbornly. My legs suddenly find a way to work and the shock must be wearing off because I find myself manically crawling through the dirt and leaves towards Peeta, where he's practically locked himself against a tree.

"You're a stupid mutt," he snarls as I come closer—closer enough to touch. "A mutt created by the Capitol to trick me. Don't touch me!"

I ignore his words and lay my hand on his forearm. "Peeta, please-stop!" I order desperately as he swings his arm in my direction. "Listen to me, please! This isn't real! I swear, this is just a bunch of lies the Capitol told you!"

"The only lies that I've been told were from you, sweetheart," he practically spits at me. "And I'm tired of your lies. In fact, I think I'm tired of you altogether-" He cuts himself off, one of his hands flying up from the branch and smacking him in the face. "Run!" He abruptly exclaims in a different voice. A voice that gives me hope. Hope that he can mentally fight this off. "Katniss, go!"

"No!" I refuse still, my jaw clenching and my eyes locking in on his furiously. "I won't leave you here!"

He squeezes his eyes shut at my words, and when he reopens them, my every hope he would be able to pull himself out of this evaporates. "I hate you! I absolutely hate you! Why won't you ever leave?"

"Because I love you," I hoarsely shout, not caring that he's in no position to listen to me. "I love you, Peeta. I love you and I'm not going to leave you."

I never say these things, even now. Even after the years since the war, I rarely offer sentiments. In words at least. Peeta knows I love him. I know I love him. But there's little need for me to proclaim it every single day and night.

Until now, until right now in these woods, with Peeta and all that he is nearly evaporated, do I wish I had showered him in verbal sentiments over and over again. No matter how unnatural words as opposed to actions are to me, I should have forced myself to speak up more, to say how I feel, to overdose him in it until he's tired of hearing my voice.

Maybe if I had been more vocal, he wouldn't still be so fast to believe the worst. Maybe then he wouldn’t be susceptible to these dark thoughts when the venom enters his system.

I shake that idea off as soon as it comes. This isn't my fault and it definitely isn't his. The tracker jacker venom isn't something we could have seen coming and it isn't permanent, I force myself to remember. This will wear off.

I just have to make sure Peeta doesn't hurt himself before that happens.

"Peeta," I whisper now, seeing his eyes squeezing shut again. I don't dare to let myself hope again he's fighting the hallucinations off. Cautiously, like I'm about to pet a tiger, I lean my hand in to touch his cheek.

He doesn't relax into it but he doesn't snap at me either and I take it as progress.

At least, I do until he opens his eyes.

They're still black as coal and my heart sinks at the realization. But before I can think to do anything else, his mouth opens again, his voice now slow and quiet and pleading. "You're the worst thing that ever happened to me. I loved you so much and you cost me everything."

I feel myself let out an involuntary sob at that, my chest heaving before I can swallow it down. Because it's true. If it weren't for me, if I'd just eaten those stupid berries myself, he wouldn't have been tortured and hijacked. Millions of people wouldn't be dead from the war. Finnick would be playing with his son right now, probably teaching him to swim or fish or tie a knot.

Prim would still be alive.

As if reading my mind, his next sentiment matches my line of thinking. "You destroyed me, just like you destroy everyone. My family is dead because of you. You killed them. You killed millions of people and laughed about it. You even killed your little sister."

And I know he's not in his right mind, but his words still ring true to me and all I can say, while trying to suppress the overflow of tears gathering behind my lids is, "I know."

"But it never meant anything to you, did it? No matter who you hurt or how much pain you inflicted, it never mattered to you."

I shake my head automatically, not even registering that I'm about as good as arguing with a wall here. "That's not true. I do care. I've always cared."

"Liar," he hisses again but it's under his breath, through clenched teeth and I can't respond to it. "You never cared about anyone besides yourself."

"Not real, Peeta!" I frantically try to get through to him. "Not real, not real, not real!"

He acts as if I hadn't spoken. "I always, always loved you. So much." He says it, not as a compliment or endearment, but as a dark fact, as a burden to bear. As if it were a heavy load he was forced to carry. "Did that mean anything you? Did I mean anything to you? Or was I just second best to him?"

"Peeta," I whimper out desperately, wiping my eyes with one hand and reaching out to grip his palm with my other. "You mean everything to me. You're my whole world."

Something flickers in his eyes and he snaps like the branches beneath our feet. "Liar!" He screams again, and shoves my hand off his. "You're a mutt! You're a liar! You’re not going to kill me like you did everyone else!"

"Not real!" I scream on the top of my lungs, giving up every other defense I have, just for the insane hope of getting through to him.

I remember how I got him to cooperate, to see reason, to fight, in the middle of the war. How I kissed him desperately, knowing I rationally should kill him, knowing there was a likely chance he'd kill me for even trying to save him, but how I did it anyway, in the face of all that.

It was different then. He wasn't freshly full of venom. He was already beginning to overcome his hijacking on his own. He was already starting to fight his way back to me.

But that doesn't mean the same methods couldn't be repurposed here. That doesn't mean they wouldn't work again, under different circumstances.

Somehow, in the seconds I considered this method, my eyes had traveled to his lips and my plan was foiled before it could be put into action.

"Don't you dare," he threatens, his voice dripping with fury. Even more deadly than I heard only a moment ago. "You're not going manipulate me like you always do, mutt."

Before I can gather my bearings or even process what he's implying, he forces both his hands to let go of the roots he's managed to maintain an iron tight grip on. His hands come flying at me, knocking me back against the forest floor, knocking the wind out of me painfully.

I feel my shoulder blade take the impact and fight back a wince, just as two large hands wrap themselves around my throat.

They squeeze tight, effectively cutting off my air supply, giving me the same horrible sensation I still remember from his rescue. The horrible day I still sometimes have nightmares about.

This whole entire thing is a nightmare come to life. Just as much as it was back in Thirteen four years ago.

I stare up at him, my vision swirling, my eyes stuck on his. And, in spite of how angry I should be—at Snow or Coin or the Capitol or just life in general—I find myself uncharacteristically hoping. Not hoping that he won't kill me. But rather hoping that when he comes back to his senses, he is able to forgive himself for this. That he is able to forgive himself for all of it.

I stare into his eyes, because if this is my end, I want the last thing I see to be the person I love, even if he isn't himself. I want him to somehow retain the memory of me right now, at this moment. So he can know that I'm not angry with him, that I don't hate him. That I love him. In spite of every reason anyone has tried to create for me not to.

I'm so focused on his eyes that I don't even notice that his grip is weakening. I don't even register his stance changing. All I see, all I register, is his eyes suddenly changing from black to blue and then black again. It's haunting to see up close, like a demon is stuck inside of him and he's having to fight it off from the inside out.

"Peeta," I whisper hoarsely, reaching my hand up to cup his cheek as his irises become a blue ocean again.

But his body language remains stiff, even as he clumsily pulls himself upwards and off of me. He trips backwards once again, and I watch in a frozen stupor as his eyes change once more to ebony.

"Go!" He shouts abruptly, his features wild and downcast and tormented. "Katniss, go!"

And I don't know if it's the fact that he's seemingly fighting off the darkness now or if the tracker jacker venom may be growing weaker inside him or if it's just the plain fact that he sounds like my Peeta again, but I listen this time. I roll over gracelessly and cough and sputter and grapple for a breath before finding my footing and blindly racing out of the trees. Blindly leaving Peeta behind, hoping he'll be able to find his way back to me.

Hoping that he'll come back to me at all.

X.

I crash onto the couch as soon as I step foot into the living room, lying down on my stomach, burrowing my face into the cushions beneath me.

I mindlessly ran from the woods, tripping and falling and unable to catch my breath, my heart racing a thousand beats per second. I didn't stop when Thom waved at me or when Haymitch barked to ask what I was up to now. I didn't even stop to lock the front door.

I wasn't worried about Peeta coming home to harm me. He was in enough control in the woods to hold himself against the tree, to stop himself from strangling me, to yell at me to run. If he was going to chase me down and hurt me, he would have done so in the woods when I refused to leave.

No, I wasn't worried about Peeta coming home to harm me. I was worried he wouldn't come home at all. I was worried that this is going to push him to the edge, that he won't trust himself, that he will insist he has to go back to the Capitol for hospitalization. I was worried that this will cost me him and our life together and everything we've worked so hard to build.

I squeeze my eyes shut to hold in my tears, terrified that the tracker jackers are going to cost me him, even after all this time. That what Snow did to take Peeta from me will finally succeed, even after his death.

Me and Peeta don't see eye to eye on this topic. This topic is one of the few things we can't agree on.

Peeta still gets flashback, on a fairly regular basis. He still grips the back of a chair or clutches a wall, hides in the back of the bakery when a customer triggers some atrocious memory by mistake. He still has insomnia some nights and still paints his nightmares.

Some of those paintings consist of things I never could stand to know. Some of his paintings, so haunting and gut-wrenching, display things that have brought me to tears more than once.

I was looking at them one morning over a year ago when I blurted out the worst possible thing I could have.

"What would happen if you ever were hijacked again? If you ever became the way you were in Thirteen again?"

I honestly expected him to say that Dr. Aurelius has warned him that there is a possibility of that happening and that he has a plan in place and he would have to go to the Capitol again and just about a million things I don't want to hear but I as much as expected.

But instead he caught me entirely off-guard and simply said, "I'd leave. Go out to the woods and probably never come back."

It's only now that I realize his wording, that I realize I left him out in the exact place he specified disappearing and I feel my blood run cold as I process this.

I don't know what I intend to do, as I stand up off the couch. I don’t know if I intend to go to Haymitch and see if he's too drunk to be of any help, to go maybe to Delly or Thom or anyone in the district who cares for Peeta, or if I even intended to just go searching for him myself in the woods, but in the end it all becomes irrelevant.

Because as soon as I stand, frantically trying to stop my shaking and figure out how I planned to find him, Peeta walks in through the front door.

His eyes are blue again and they've lost the cloudy look that have always appeared in his episodes. I don't know why I forgot that until now.

Probably because I black out the things that really hurt me. The things that hurt my heart too much to fully process.

Peeta, the sweetest boy I've ever known, being tortured and destroyed to pay for my acts of rebellion is at the top of that list.

I just stare at him, taking him in now, here, alive, relatively unharmed aside from some scratches. His eyes are clear but they're so sad and so desolate and I open my mouth to speak. To say just about anything that'll convey to him that I'm not angry with him, not in the least. That I just don't want him to leave, that I can't take losing him again.

But all that comes out are choking noises and I don't know if it's the cries I fought off or if it's because his hands were wrapped around my throat not long ago, or if it's just plainly that I don't put my feelings into words well. By any stretch of the imagination.

Either way, it doesn't seem to matter. Peeta just shakes his head slowly, the skin around his eyes already wet and swollen and pink and before I can utter another sound, he's walking forward towards me and falling down onto his knees, wrapping his arms around my waist. His face buries itself into my stomach and suddenly, the most painful, the most wretched sobs fill the room and if I wasn't right here with him, if I couldn't physically see Peeta, the cries would almost be unrecognizable as him.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

I try to resist it, I try to hold it back, I do everything I can to fight it, knowing it'll only make him feel that much worse, but in the end it's a lost effort and it's all I can do to raise my head up to the ceiling just as the tears come pouring from my own eyes. If they're out of shock or fear or pain--or a combination of all three--I don't know, but I do everything I can to hide them from Peeta.

It becomes just one more thing I fail at, as he somehow instinctively notices and squeezes me tighter to him, clutches me like Prim used to clutch her baby blanket.

"Please forgive me, Katniss. Please, please, please forgive me."

I open my mouth to say there's nothing to forgive but once again, the words won't form. All that comes out is a simple sob, quiet but strong, and I feel Peeta squeeze me again.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

X.

"Roll over for me," Peeta whispers softly, his hand as tender as his voice, stroking my hair back attentively.

I do what he asks, rolling onto my stomach, but still manage to say, "this isn't necessary."

He ignores me, his eyes no longer wet but still swollen and bloodshot from the hours he cried. Lifting up my shirt—technically his shirt originally, but we repurposed it as my sleep attire months ago—he slides a cold cloth onto my back, holding it in place for a long moment of time.

There's now a particularly large bruise already forming on my back from where he knocked me to the forest floor. I couldn't care less. I got worse bruises than that from hunting on a regular basis.

But the look in Peeta's eyes when he saw the mark, almost--but not quite--rivaled the look in his eyes when he stood upright and saw my neck. I hadn't even seen at it yet, I hadn't even given any thought to checking for red handprints, but when Peeta stood upwards, when he'd calmed down enough to look me in the eye, his gaze flew there instantly and words can't convey how awful he must have felt.

If there were a way to verbally say how wretched and sick he felt inside, Peeta would be the first one to do it.

Telling him it wasn't his fault didn’t work. Telling him he couldn't have known about the tracker jackers nearby, he couldn't have known what would happen, did absolutely nothing to convince him that he shouldn't feel responsible. Especially not when I'm speaking in a hoarse tone of voice.

Of course, I knew he'd feel this way. I would feel this way. But somehow I just can't stop trying to alleviate his remorse, no matter how useless it may be to attempt. Somehow I just can't stop trying to remove that tragically sad look from his eyes.

As soon as he lets go of the cold cloth, I spin around in the bed and snuggle myself tight into him.

He takes me into his arms willing, wrapping his every limb around mine, burying his face in my hair. His lips press repeated kisses to my forehead, his hands rubbing up and down my spine, massaging my back.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, probably for the twentieth time.

"Peeta," I all but groan, leaning my head back slightly to peer up into his heartbroken eyes. "Stop. There's nothing you could have done."

He looks like he wishes to argue but nothing comes out of his mouth. Instead he rubs my back again and squeezes me tighter. I shut my eyes against him, breathing him in, a part of me finally relaxing for the first time in hours.

Even after he returned home, even after his breakdown, I remained cautious at first. The last thing I wanted was to let my guard down too soon and have the venom—that is surely still working it's way out of his bloodstream—cause him to snap again, to lash out at me or attack.

Just like the last thing I wanted was to make him feel worse, make him feel remorse for something that was done to him, something he didn't ask for and he'd worked so hard and made so much progress in controlling.

But when he'd noticed the tears I’d tried to hold in, down in the living room, the remorse was inevitable.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He whispers now, moving my hair aside carefully, pressing his lips gently to the red marks where his hands had left their imprint.

This isn't the first time he's asked though and despite the fact that I rather enjoy his lips on my neck typically, I can't help but respond with ire. "Peeta, I already told you my neck and back are just fine. Please stop worrying," I say tensely, my voice tired and worn thin.

He says nothing in response, instead placing more kisses against my throat and collarbone. I let out a sigh I didn't even know I was holding in and reach out to stroke the back of his head, massaging where his skull and neck met, where his blonde curls touch his skin.

"You scared me," I whisper finally, the words easier now that I can't see his eyes and he can't see mine.

"I know," is all he can say.

"Not physically," I immediately correct before he can take that and internalize it. "I don’t mean you scared me physically. You... you..." Speaking becomes a challenge all over again, the syllables not wanting to form intelligibly on my lips. But when he pulls back and looks me deep in the eye, his gaze full of love and sorrow, I force myself to just say how I feel. "I was scared I was going to lose you," I whisper, leaving whether I meant lose him physically or mentally up in the air.

Still, he doesn't seem surprised by the confession, whatever way he took it. "I know."

I have to bite my lip to keep an awful choking sob inside, as one is doing it's best to escape from the back of my throat. Almost as a distraction I bury my face into his chest again, shutting my eyes, and I allow myself to be thankful that Peeta's still here and he's my Peeta again.

When he doesn't fill the silence though, I realize I have to or else the tension in the room will continue to linger. "I was so scared," I admit, so quietly it's almost inaudible.

"I know, baby."

I scrub my face against his cotton-made shirt before rubbing my nose with the neckline of my own sleepwear, just as something hits to me. Peeta's words in the woods, even while hijacked, still sting inside my head. Not the cruel things he said, because even though I know they're true, I also know he doesn't truly believe any of them himself. He doesn't think I murdered his family or am an evil person who laughs at the misery of others, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, he doesn't think I'm in any way responsible for Prim's death.

But originally, his hijacking was predicated upon his insecurity and uncertainty in our relationship and in my feelings for him. In the last three years I know I've made my feelings clear. At least, in my mind I have.

But a quietly violent voice whispers, and I ache deep inside as it questions, what if I haven't expressed how I feel enough to him? What if he truly still feels unsure of my love for him?

"Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"I just... I want you to know-" His finger presses against my lips now and he's shaking his head, his eyes forlorn.

"Katniss, if this is about anything I said, just don't. Okay, I meant none of it. I hate that those words even-"

"Peeta, you mean everything to me," I blurt out then, clumsily cutting him off. "You're the only thing that really matters to me an-and," I stop myself then, having spoken too fast, rushed my words and now am stuttering. There's so many things I want to say, so many things I want him to know. So many they all become jumbled up and confused in my head, and it's all I can do to say the simplest, plainest thing that comes to my mind. No matter how unnatural it feels for me. No matter how painful it is to rip down your walls and to physically have to force away an armor you spent years of your young life building up. It's so hard and so painful and I don't even recognize my own voice when I speak again, when I force myself to spit out how I actually feel. How, until today, I told myself he knew I felt. "I love you so much," I try to say but it comes out choked and raw. "I love you and you were never second best. To anyone. You're everything to me and I don't know-I don't know how to convey this right or say the right thing-"

He cuts me off—finally—then and moves his fingers against my cheek comfortingly. "You've conveyed it perfectly," he promises, his lips moving then to press lightly against mine, in a grateful but simple and sweet gesture. "I know you love me, Katniss," he assures again as he pulls back and breaks our kiss. "I've known it for a long time."

As his finger traces the outline of my mouth, I whisper, almost to myself, "So have I."

He gives me a smile, that is full of guilt and devastation, but still somehow warm and hopeful and kind. "Oh, have you?" I know he's feeling better when he teases me.

But my reply isn't sarcastic or cunning or anything but simple and small. Just like me in general.

"Longer than I could ever admit."

[babieyangyang10]

violent ends (chapter 11)

(chapter 11)

series masterlist

genre: hunger games!au

pairings: huang renjun x oc, na jaemin x oc

warnings: language, death, description of injuries, hallucinations, important character death,

previous | next

Athena's POV

It was quick the way he died. Before Haechan fell forward, his left eye cried tears of blood. There was nothing on his face, no acknowledgement or realisation of what just occurred. No evidence of any previous life in his face.

Just nothing.

People always say that your entire life flashes before your eyes once you die. However, there was not even enough time for that. No time to remember the eighteen years he once lived. He was just gone.

Mark Lee and I sprung forward. Once the corpse was thrown off him, Mark lifted up Jisung from the water. The young boy bent over and began coughing up the water in his lungs.

Once he finished, you could tell the reality of what just happened to him was sinking in. Frantically looking around, he saw Haechan laying face-down in the water, blood flowing out from his wound. Going pale, Jisung silently grabbed the body and flipped him over. He ripped his hand away and would've screamed if it wasn't for my hand covering his mouth.

Not used to injuries, Jisung was practically hyperventilating at the site of my throwing knife lodged in one of the body's lifeless eyes,

"Jisung, it's okay. Don't look at it." I brought my hand down and closed the remaining eye, thinking it would help. It didn't.

"Oh my god. What did you do?!" Jisung was about to throw up.

Mark looked around nervously, before saying, "She saved you. Quick, let's go." He grabbed the distressed boy's arm and pulled him to his feet.

After we had gotten a good distance away, I could hear the cannon go off.

"That could've been me." Jisung mumbled to himself in disbelief. He looked really bad. Almost as if he could go off the deep end any second. I mean, the kid has came to the brink of death twice in the span of only two days.

Trying to lighten his spirits, I suggest, "You're a lucky kid, aren't you?"

He considers my words before murmuring, "Yeah, I guess so."

Chenle's POV

I think I'm the unluckiest kid in the world, right now.

As the Careers and Jaemin start yapping away, I take this opportunity to look around the tree for something to help us escape. Alarmed, I look around where Jaemin is perched to see a raccoon sized nest. Swaying gently, I peek around to discreetly get a better look. Immediately, the bright gold body captures my eye.

No, these aren't just any wasps, they're tracker jackers.

Made in the Captiol's labs, they were placed directly in the districts during the war. Tracker Jackers were named according to their ability to 'track' down and hunt anyone who comes into contact with them. If they bite you, most likely you'll die. Even if you don't, most people will go mad from experiencing the hallucinations from the venom.

Our options are: we let Haechan come back and kill us or possibly die from these creatures. Reaching behind Jaemin, I discreetly began sawing away at the limb carrying the nest with my knife. Both Jaemin and the people below were too wrapped up in the conversation to notice what I was doing.

I kept sawing back and forth. Suddenly, a tracker jacker came calmly out of the nest. Holding my breath, I watch as it walks onto an unaware Jaemin's hand. Unable to warn him, I just speed up as quick as I can. More and more tracker jackers began leaving the nest to check out what was happening. Back, forth! Back, forth! Another jacker lands on Jaemin's shoulder.

Then there was a cannon.

The nest fell down right after. I could hear Jaemin yelp, however, I just pulled him out of the tree and bolt. I could hear the two Careers yelling above the buzzing from the army of angry wasps.

Once we've ran far from the chaos, I stopped to check on Jaemin. Right away, I noticed the plump-sized lumps on his neck and hand.

"I'm Jaemin," He slurs, "Nice to meet you, sir."

Oh my god.

Jaemin squints his eyes, trying to focus, "I have to admit. I've never met a three-headed, green person before. Are there others like you?"

It was almost dark, we have to get home, now. I grab him and began running again. Once we get to camp, I spot Mark, Athena, and Jisung all sitting down.

"Jaemin, got stung by tracker jackers!" I'm out of breath. Lee Athena immediately runs over to us, stopping in front of the disoriented boy.

"Athena, is that you?" His eyes are excited, but confused. The girl grabs his hand and quickly removes the stinger and does the same to his swollen neck. Green pus seems out from the now orange-sized bumps.

"I think-" His eyes roll over to the back of his head and Athena barely manages to catch him before he falls to the ground. Mark runs over and helps her carry him into the shack.

The next day, she took care of him. Every few hours, she would grind up a special leaf to put on the wounds.

She knew a lot about the wilderness. While Mark stayed to watch Jaemin, she would take Jisung and I out to practice hunting. It was nice learning, especially since I have always felt bad for relying on Mark so much. Not only does he have to take care of himself, but he also has to make sure two, weak kids don't die as well. After capturing a rabbit this morning, I felt happy knowing I got to help ease the pressure, even if it's just small.

"Good job, Chenle." He praised, making my heart swell. We were all sitting around the fire.

"I bet I'll get a even bigger one tomorrow." Jisung challenged, making us all chuckle.

Eventually, the conversation led to us talking about living in our different districts.

"Yeah, I swear all District 10 has is cows and desert. Although, I got to grow up with a lot of different animals, which was really fun." I explained.

"I wish I could see a desert, but we have that fence keeping us in District 11. Growing up, a lot of us had to climb trees in the orchards for fruit, which could be pretty fun. Although, it wasn't fun when you'd occasionally run into the tracker jackers." Jisung winced in remembrance.

"At least you guys have the orchards, District 12 is really small. When you turn eighteen, you work for the coal mines. Food is pretty hard to get also. To get grain and oil, I had to enter my name into the Reaping about forty times." We all gasped aloud  at Mark.

"I have a question that I've always wanted to ask," Jisung announced, "I've seen District 12 do that think with the three fingers so many times. What does it actually mean?"

"It's been around forever, I guess. It's a sign of love and respect to show thankfulness for someone or something. Sometimes we use it to say goodbye. That's what everyone did to me, when I left after the Reaping." Mark explained to him.

Jisung kissed his three fingers and held them up in the air, "Well, I love and respect all of you."

All four of us, Mark, Jisung, Athena, and myself, giggled and did the salute to each-other before heading off to sleep.

Athena's POV

It's now been two days, since Jaemin has first been stung. The swelling has gone completely down, however, he still has a bit of a fever and hasn't woken up.

The most nerve wracking part is that, until he wakes up, I can't feed him anything. I can't even give him water to drink. It's not like real life, where he would have a feeding tube. Even we were alone, we barely got anything to eat. Gosh, it really is so easy to die of hunger in here.

Today, the boys wanted to show off their new hunting skills to Mark. So, it was just Jaemin and I at the camp. Apart from Haechan, none of the other Careers have shown up in the sky so far. So, I have no idea if Renjun is the same way as Jaemin. However, his health shouldn't be of my concern, anyway.

Since they are just two members now, Mark and I have been discussing an attack on them. After he snuck to their territory, he saw that they have pilled up all the supplies. Protecting them are random mines, which, if you stepped wrong, could easily blow you up to pieces.

Instead of risking stepping on a mine by trying to fight them directly, we thought we should find a way to blow up the pile of supplies. That way, they'll starve themselves out.

Suddenly, I notice Jaemin stir. His eyes are confused and wide. He looks around his surroundings, before he sees me next to him.

"Athena!" His voice is excited and relieved, yet weak. His hand shoots out to grab mine.

I sigh, "You've been out for two days, you know."

"Are you serious?" He looks around again, "Wait, where are we?"

"We're at Mark's camp. Chenle brought you back." I said, knowing he probably doesn't remember anything.

I hear a pleasant beeping noise, which makes me nearly burst with happiness. Near our feet, a box drops. Inside is a container of warm soup and a spoon.

Knowing he was still in bad shape, I grab the spoon and scooped up some soup to feed to him. Smiling, he accepted the food. His eyes shut in delight, finally getting to eat a real meal.

He happily suggests, “You should eat some."

I know he hasn’t eaten for two whole days. This makes me feel warm, knowing that, even though he’s literally starving, he would still offer me it.

"I think Jisung and Chenle would kill me if I didn't eat what they catch,” I laugh before getting serious, “Besides, you really need it right now."

He’s disappointed, but still continues eating.

Concerned, I ask, "So, are you doing okay? I mean those hallucinations can be really messed up."

"I mean, apart from the trees turning into blood and thinking ants were eating me, I'm fine. Especially, since your here now." Jaemin laughs.

I shake my head, smiling at the ground.

"I mean it, though. I felt so bad after I lost you. If I had known you stopped, I would've gone back for you, Athena,” He stops me, “You know that right?"

"Well, I did have your supplies." I point out.

He provides clarity, "Supplies or not, you're still a priority to me. That's just not even a question at this point."

I felt a deep pang in my chest. There’s so many things I want to say. On instinct, with both of my palms, I hold his face in my hands,"If there wasn't cameras on us right now, I would-"

Jaemin breathes out, "Who's stopping you?"

His eyes darted down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. I checked his face to see if there was any hint of joking, yet his eyes were filled with warmth. It occurred to me that he was feeling the same need and want that I was. Like if I were in a black hole, I felt myself being pulled closer and closer into him.

"Hey Athena, look what I caught—oh,uh?"

Jisung, stares in shock, at the close proximity between Jaemin and I's faces.

I jump up, brushing myself off, "Come on, kid. Let's go see it."

Jisung brought me outside to see Mark and Chenle by the fire.

“Jaemin is awake.” I announced to the two boys.

“That’s really good.” I could tell Chenle had felt guilty about him getting stung.

Mark proposed, “Well, today I was thinking that we should go destroy the supplies.”

Chenle eagerly asked, “Can I help?”

“Well, I guess you could help us by starting fires with me to lead them away from the Cornocopia.” Mark turned to Jisung, “Jisung, could you stay with Jaemin?”

“What’s going on?” Jaemin popped his head out of the shack.

“We’re going to destroy Jeno and Renjun’s supplies.” I caught him up.

His eyebrows are furrowed, “Are you going?”

“Of course.” I nod, plainly.

After we ate, I headed into the shack to get my backpack. On the ground, Jaemin was looking up at me unhappily, completely different from how he usually looks at me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s just,” He sighs, “every time we’re separated, something bad always happens.”

“Well, you still need to rest, besides I’ll have Mark with me.” I lie. Mark will be separated from me, but I didn’t want to stress him out.

“You better come back. I’m serious.” He deadpans.

“Okay, Na Jaemin.”

I brush his hair out of his face. He’s not aware, but I can’t help but thinking the way he’s looking at me reminds me of a lost puppy, “I mean it.”

“I know.” I smile.

Then, Mark, Chenle, and I began heading towards the Cornocopia. As we’re walking, I notice Mark fiddling with something on his jacket.

“What’s that?” I ask, intrigued.

“It’s a mockingjay pin.” He states. The pin contained the small golden bird with an ring around it. It’s connected to the ring only by its wing tips.

Mockingjays were the result of a failed project by the Capitol to spy on the rebellious districts. Because of this, they have become a symbol for the rebellion. It’s almost as if they are rubbing it in the Capitol’s faces.

“I like it,” I beam up at him, “It suits you.”

“I think so too. It’s cool.” Chenle gushes.

Mark blushes before coming to a stop, “This is where we separate. Chenle, after I set the fire, wait a little before setting yours. That way they’ll think it’s real and definitely come to yours.

All alone, I hide beneath the trees as I come to a stop in front of the Cornocopia. Sitting to the right of the supplies, were a group of boys. Along with Jeno and Renjun, I spotted a boy from District 3. I’m assuming he’s Haechan’s replacement.

“Guy’s look!” Jeno points out. There, hidden in the tree’s, Mark has created a fire. The smoke created a cloud in the sky right above his position.

“Let’s go, Renjun. Guard the place, until we get back.” Jeno tells the young boy.

Once they’re gone, I grab into my backpack and pull out knife. Getting ready to throw, I rear back my hand.

However, from the left, a figure darts out from the woods. Avoiding the piles of buried mines, she is calculated and precise. From the pile, the red-head grabs an armful of supplies and runs past the District 3 boy.

As a result, he stood up and began chasing her into the woods. Perfect.

I scan the pile, looking for something I could knock down to trigger the mines. That way, I would be kept safe from the blast. At the very top is a bag of bright red and green apples.

Taking a deep breath, I throw a knife as hard as I can. It manages to make a rip in the bag, but not big enough for the fruit to fall through.

So, I grab another one. I calm myself down, before I launch my second one. Almost in slow motion, I watch as an single apple drops from the fresh hole. Rolling forward, it halts on top of one of the piles.

One after the other, all of the mines are triggered. Before I can react, I am thrown back by the incredible force. I can feel ash and debris raining down on my head. In my head and ears, I can hear a sharp buzzing. With my fingers, I could feel blood coming out of my left ear.

Running back from the woods, Renjun and Jeno meet the District 3 boy in the middle. I was able to see if Jeno had even said anything. Although, even over the buzzing, I could hear the crack of the boys neck after Jeno snapped it.

Alarmed, I run back into the woods to hide. Blinking, I could feel my sight and hearing slowly coming back.

“Help!” I hear a young voice. Wow, that was quick. The Careers already found another victim.

“Mark! Athena!”

Chenle!

I run, following the shouts. Not even caring if I was about to run face first into a planned trap. His shouts continue and I feel can feel the quick tempo of my heart.

When I force my way into a clearing, I spot the young boy entrapped in a net on the grown. He stops struggling and smiles in relief when he spots me in front of him.

However, it fades when the arrow lodges straight into his chest.

To my left, I look just in time to see Mark shoot an arrow into the neck of the other District 12 tribute. Using my knife, I quickly cut Chenle free from the net. Mark runs over, propping him up in his arms. Blood is seeping through his shirt. I look up at Mark, giving him a telling look.

“Is it bad?” He doesn’t have enough strength to look down. I don’t know what to say.

“I never imagined I would go like this.” His voice is shaky, but knowing.

The cannon for the District 12 girl goes off.

Chenle reaches for my hand, “Please, don’t leave me.”

With my free hand, I wipe some of his tears, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did you blow up the supplies?” His voice is in a hopeful whisper.

“All of it.” He smiles at this.

Looking up at Mark and me, Chenle breathes out, “Thank you both. For protecting me. Even in these circumstances, these past days have been some of the best days of my life thanks to you.”

I feel my throat become choked up. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to these people, who are supposed to be my competition. But I did and I don’t regret any of it for a damn second.

There’s fear in his eyes, “You two, don’t forget me, okay?”

“Never.” Mark and I say.

Then he’s gone.

It takes a few minutes for it to sink in for the two of us. For us to realize this boy, who was speaking a few minutes ago and laughing with us yesterday, was gone forever. I look up to see Mark distraught with the same realisation, “It’s not fair. He was just a kid.”

“I can’t just leave him here. He deserves better than that.” I agree with Mark’s words. Looking around, I spot violet, blue, and white wildflowers. I began loading my arms up with the flowers. With Mark’s help, we placed the flowers all around him.

How dare they. It’s shameful that they would do this to an innocent child. Not just him, but all of us children.

Placing my arm on his shoulder, I try to comfort Mark. Like a switch going off, he bursts into tears. I know it has been hard, the weight of caring for three people. I wrap him in my arms and cry with him.

It’s only before we leave does he turn around suddenly. After kissing his three fingers, he held them out in his direction. Myself doing the same, we both say goodbye to our friend, Chenle.

[pbjpuppy]

Walks

I’ve been going on a lot of walks recently.

‘Cause, y’know being in the house all the time isn’t really good for you. Like, y’know, cabin fever and stuff? Plus, we just did this unit in science- through the computer, they’re calling it distance learning- about indoor air pollution, and how the air inside a home can be multiple times more polluted than outside air, and how most people spend most of their time indoors (90%!), which really makes sitting in my bedroom for long periods of time kind of unappealing.

I don’t always like staying in my room anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I spend most of my time in there like any other teenager does, and it’s great! I love my room. I’m even lucky enough to have my own instead of having to share it with a sibling like some people do. But still, even if you live in paradise it’s a prison if you can’t leave, so I don’t stay in there all the time. Sometimes I just wander around my house in circles instead. Or sit in my dad’s room.

Anyway- walks. Lots of them. One every day is the new routine, unless I get lazy, which has happened once or twice and I always regret it. To the end of the block, which intersects the road in a “T” shape, then I turn to the right and walk all the way until the sidewalk ends (Through the old elementary school’s parking lot- I’m always worried security will yell at me, but so far I’ve been peacefully ignored), then I turn back and walk all the way past my block again to the other end of the sidewalk, then home. It’s not the most scenic route; I live in the suburbs of Long Island and all the trees are dead because it’s only just turned April, and all there is to see is houses and road.

I keep myself entertained, though. There’s actually a lot to see if you really look. Nothing extraordinary, but that’s kind of what I like about it. I keep my eyes to the ground a lot, and you see a lot of litter on the ground: Cups, cans, cigarette boxes, packs of tissues, chicken wire, caution tape, strange boxy wooden contraptions that look busted and have been abandoned. Once I even saw an unopened condom. It’s an environmental nightmare, of course, but for the arrogant human on her walk it provides plenty of brain food. For every piece of trash there was a living, breathing human who held it, who used it, who discarded it. I wonder what they’re like and if I’ll ever meet them, what they’re up to. If they’re alive right now.

There’s not much that’s all too impressive in terms of nature, like I said, but it’s still outside, and I’ve seen a bunch of interesting nature-y things, too. On my first walk, I found a chunk of a wasp’s nest, half-rotted. Recently I found a bird’s nest too, and I wanted to go pick it up, but it was in somebody’s yard and I didn’t want to get yelled at for trespassing. Just today I passed right through a murder of crows, kind of. They were perched in a group on the trees and telephone wires, and their croaking startled me out of my daydreaming to admire them. I’ve seen a lot of things that look like bones that aren’t bones, and one time I saw something that looked like a bone that actually was a bone.

The one natural thing I don’t see on my walks is humans. Not one in a week. I would have expected to see at least one person walking their dog or something, or just doing work in the yard. I mean, everybody else has to be as restless as I am inside, right? But no, no people to be seen. That’s okay, though. The sidewalk is narrow, I like not having to share it. It also means I can text while I walk and not worry about bumping into someone. Plus, I guess it’s been kind of yucky out weather-wise. By the time I get home from my walks my nose is usually pink and runny from the cold.

I live with two other people, my dog, my cat, and my two pet rats. That makes seven living things and three living humans. The house is quiet a lot of the time. My brother and I are both teenagers- I’m seventeen, he’s nineteen- and we spend a lot of time in our rooms. My dad is usually working, or out of the house. He likes to go over to his girlfriend’s house a lot, or out to the city for the weekend before… Everything happened, and I’ll take care of myself for the evening and the following day or so. Sometimes it’s longer than that. I don’t hear from my brother those days, he makes his own food. Sometimes I’ll be home alone and won’t even realize until I walk past his bedroom and see it’s been empty this whole time.

My dad’s been away a lot this week, I think. And my brother’s been quiet. I think he’s told me he doesn’t feel well. That’s okay. I can take care of myself well enough and I think I have people online to talk to. My dog barks a lot, that’s kind of like conversation. Plus, I have Animal Crossing, that game where you live on an island with a bunch of little animal people? It’s really cute, I love it. I talk to the animals on Animal Crossing. I don’t mind being alone.

I’m on a walk, and my fingers and nose are cold and pink. I have an umbrella, but I don’t actually need it. It’s not raining anymore, the wind is just moist and cold. It’s dangling from my wrist. I liked playing tug-of-war with my umbrella against the wind, but the wind won, and my umbrella turned inside out, so I stopped. I’m coming back from the right side of the T.

There’s lots of evidence of humans. There’s so much litter, pieces of trash that somebody was holding and let go of and now it’s on the ground. I thought I smelled weed before, which is gross, but that means that somebody somewhere was smoking it, somewhere nearby. There’s graffiti on the street signs.

There’s lots of cars on the road, too. I don’t know where they’re going. Nobody’s really supposed to be going anywhere right now, I think. We’re supposed to be staying home, that’s what I was told. Maybe they’re going to get groceries. You’re allowed to go get groceries. All of them are getting groceries.

Going to school online is a weird and kind of stressful experience, by the way, did I mention that? I’ve never done anything like homeschooling, I’ve always gone to public school my whole life, ever since I went to the old elementary school that I have to pass through on my walks. I’m used to structure. There’s this bell that drones at the end of every class, and when you hear the bell you get up and shuffle to your next class, forty-two minutes every class period. I’m used to that. Now they’re so far away. The classes, I mean, like, the concept of them. It’s just kind of a vague idea that there’s work I should be doing, now. I’ve been doing okay. I set alarms every forty-two minutes and pretend I’m going to class.

I still haven’t seen a single human. I’ve been looking into the windshields of the cars as I walk and I still haven’t seen a single one. I don’t know who these cars are trying to fool, you can’t drive a car if there’s nobody in the driver’s seat. That’s impossible. But I haven’t seen a single human. Super-smart cars, maybe. I think I’ve heard about those on the news, right? Sometime before everything happened. They’re sending their cars to get groceries.

I walk past the cemetery if I want to walk farther than usual. Usually my walk stops me right by the cemetery. I like ghosts and spooky things so I like living so close to a cemetery. It’s a nice cemetery, too. I don’t go in it very much, the only dead person I know wasn’t buried in the cemetery and I don’t want to intrude on anybody who’s grieving their loved one. Walks aren’t that important and I have a different route. I don’t think I would find anybody in the cemetery, but I’m going to go home anyway. I’ve been walking for a long time.

I think a lot on my walks. My mind wanders. I do it on purpose, actually, I put on my music and let my mind wander while I walk. I like to draw and write stories, and letting my mind wander while I walk is good for inspiration. I’ve been thinking about humans and cars and crows. The crows fly away when I walk near them. I wonder if the humans are like crows and that’s why I can’t see them. Maybe I did something wrong and everybody’s avoiding me. Maybe everyone’s too busy getting groceries to be in their cars. It must be a lot of groceries.

My dad has been away a lot this week. I want to tell him about the bugs I caught in Animal Crossing. I don’t know if I’ve seen him in a while. I thought I said goodbye to him yesterday. Yesterday it was snowing, when I said goodbye. It wasn’t snowing yesterday. I wish he’d get back from whatever he’s doing. I hope he brings me back something from the grocery store.

My brother hasn’t been feeling well. He wants me to leave him alone, I think. I think he said that, and that’s why he’s not in his room. He doesn’t want me to bother him, I think. He hasn’t been feeling well for a long time. He’s such a complainer. There’s mold in the food he left in his room.

Online school is so frustrating. I’m really not good at math, and I tried to message my teacher about an exponents question, but he hasn’t been replying to me. I skipped the math problems, I think, and I can’t find the right website we’re supposed to be doing them on. I can’t find the app on my phone I used to text my teacher. I’m so forgetful. I forgot to text him, I think.

This wouldn’t be happening if everything hadn’t happened. If we were in school, I’d be able to raise my hand and ask the teacher in person about my math question. And there would be other students, too. But we have to stay home. Everyone has to stay home.

I don’t know why we have to stay home. I thought somebody told me. I can’t remember. I know everybody has to stay home. The government said so or something. That’s why I can’t find anybody. Everybody’s at home.

My dad isn’t answering his phone. I want to know when he’ll be home. He’s not supposed to be out. I forgot my dad’s number, I think. I’m going to walk to the grocery store. It’s getting dark out now, but I think I need to go. I’m going to see what all the fuss is about. Everyone’s at the grocery store, that’s why I can’t find them.

There’s not much to see in the suburbs of Long Island. The shapes the buildings make are kind of pretty, though. They’re all warped and blackened, like a giant hand smushed them like play-doh. There’s lots of litter. There’s evidence of humans everywhere. The sun is setting behind the ruined buildings and it looks red and burning. It reminds me of something awful. Maybe a movie I watched, I think, about some awful explosion. The sun is too red and it’s scaring me. I’m going to keep walking to the grocery store.

This parking lot is empty and dirty. There’s lots of litter: plastic water bottle casings, old lighters, trampled wet paper bags, turned over shopping cars, shells of cars, the grocery store sign smashed on the ground. I step on the broken glass because it makes a nice sound. It smells like food, I think. The smell of the food is making my throat hurt, I think. There’s smoke rising from the building. They’re cooking, I think. The sun is so red behind the smoke. It looks like fire.

It looks like fire. There’s so much fire. It’s reminding me of something really bad. I’m really scared, something in my brain is really scared. Something happened and I can’t remember. I don’t want to be at the grocery store anymore. I’m walking home now but my legs aren’t feeling very normal. I wish the sun wouldn’t look so red. Everything is red and warm and smoky. It’s only just April and my nose and fingers are supposed to be pink from the cold.

I’m getting lost, I think. Once I find my way home I can get my dad to hug me so I feel better. I don’t know why I’m crying. Something is making me sad and scared but I can’t remember what it is. Reminds me of a movie, I think. A big scary explosion in a movie. The air smells like smoke. I think I might be upset because of cabin fever. That’s it, I think.

I think I need to go on more walks.

[pkmnsdarkqueen]

Some Random mun facts

-Music: When it comes to music I pretty much listen to like everything except rap. I dont know why I don't enjoy most rap it just doesn't hit for me. Which is a bold statement when in my car the Spotify will go to some cutesy Lenka song, hard core scremo, and end on VeggieTales. Look sometimes I want pastel angst with a side of a manatee's love problems. That and my ADD is happy.

-Driving: So I swear I'm a safe driver, and like yeah everyone says that about themselves, but I've been driving for a few years now with 2 wrecks both being other people's fault with them crashing me. Here's the thing about it I took this driving course where we learned how to do all these extreme things in cars to keep ourselves safe like throwing the back/front wheels out of control to regain control, the fastest turns you can believe, and all that. So I can pull this stuff out to minimize damage if I realize the person messed up so bad I can't avoid a wreck, or pull something to completely evade a wreck happening. It's great, and people love driving with me cause they know they'll be safe. They also know that if shiz hits the fan the ride is about to get roller coaster like.

-Bananas: I just can't. I physically can't handle eating bananas. That sounds like weird phrasing, but I'm incredibly serious. I've been this way ever since I was a kid, bananas just kick in my gag reflex immediately and I can't control it. One time in Mexico on this mission trip I got a Charlie Horse right, muscles get knotted up, and I knew it was cause I needed potassium. So the folks running the mission we were at over heard me, and kindly brought me 2 bananas. And like they don't have many fresh things so this was incredibly generous, and I felt awful thinking I'd look like some snooty white foreign girl if I said no so I started trying to eat them. I was trying to hard to keep it in, and hide it but we were at the breakfast table and one of the residents finally stopped me while I was half way done with the first one and was like,"You look green. Like genuinely green, and miserable. What is happening?" Which at this point I had been gagging like wild but hiding it, my stomach was feeling like death, and I was sweating suddenly like crazy so I finally told them qnd apologized because I knew they were trying to be kind. Thankfully they understood, and were really kind suggesting a brand of vitamins so I could go get some with potsassium. But yeah I just literally physically cant handle bananas only able eat about half of one when I am desperate for calcuim

-Wasps: Weirdly I've gotten really coll with wasps and yellow jackets this like past year. At the summer camp I worked at they were in our editing room alot so I just got used to them. Like to the point they'd rest on my arm while I worked. I named em too, R.I.P Bartholemew whom I had to mercy kill after he was smacked to the ground by a co-worker. Now we have a wasp nest outside our garage and like our family is just chilling with them just letting them take whatever bugs they want from our yard.

-New York: So there's a whole story here I'll probably post for another Munday, but I'll keep it short for here. I kinda did some pokemon art for a guy around the time Prom was happening, and he just invited me to his prom in New York. I'm in Texas. Like wild but he was serious, his parents agreed offeri g to pay for everything and one of my parents to go with me. We like ran a bunch of checks on the guy, he came down with his gam to meet in person, and like long story short I went to Prom in New York with someone who paid for everything, and agreed to go as friends only. Did I realize I was like a 'trophy chick' or 'paid friend' yes, but like worth it. Now that guy was respectful to me the whole time, which I appreciate, and didn't push anything. He had some things to work out in himself for sure which is why we didn't keep up, bullying trauma from what I can gather, but yeah it was a wild experience and further evidence to support when I say,"My life operates like a sit com."

-Naming inanimate objects: My sister and I both do this alot. Like almost everything gets a name. When we were kids the logs you can run across at this Waterpark had names, all of our stuffed animals have names, trees and plants that are special get names. Like it's just a thing we do, so yes all my knives and swords I have also get names. Just everything has names with us.

-Firework pops: So you know those little packets filled with gunpowder than sound like a gjn going off when you throw them on the ground? Yea well I had some of those as a kid. I also didn't know what PTSD was as a kid or that my dad had it due to some work with Uncle Sam. On April fools I had the smart idea to tape them to the bottom of the toilet seat so when someone sat on it they'd go off. It worked. On my dad. At 2 am at night. He laughs about it now but I still awful for how badly he was shaken up from it waking my mom up in a panic. Yeah not my finest moment as a kid.

-Wiggles: So my spine is weirdly sensitive. If something or someone touches it when I'm not expecting it I get like shakes and start twitching in my neck sometimes so bad like various muscles on my body start twitching out as well. My range of control varies wildly with like no real correlation. Sometimes it's a small shiver which lasts a second and I can roll with it unnoticed. Other times every part of my upper body rolls over in goose bumps, my arm hair is on end, my neck is spazzeming to the side as my head shakes, my shoulders and such is convulsing, and my arms are locking up as it feel like I'm contorting around my spine for like 10 seconds needing another 20 seconds to shake off residual affects. Also ability to talk during this ranges too depending on if I can get my jaw to cooperate. I have no idea why this happens, no one ever seems to get it either, I can't make it happen on command so I can't show anyone, and everytime I get short hair I have to adjust to feeling my hair dust across the back of my neck putting up with like a week of solid wiggles multiple times a day. It's not a common occurrence usually dependent on if what I'm wearing rubs certain points on my spine, but it's just a tick I have.

[hotforhandman]

Indulge me for a moment

I know some people don’t like it when you try to psychoanalyse fictional characters, but it’s fun so here we are. There’s one particular category of behaviour that I would like to discuss in regards to Shigaraki Tomura.

This is gonna be a long one. Sorry XP

So this is mania.

It’s often associated as one ‘half’ of bipolar disorder, where the individual may experience weeks or months of mania followed by the same of depression, in a somewhat oscillating pattern, however it can be associated with other things such as schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder or as a classification on its own. It can manifest as hypomania, or a ‘below-mania’ state, where the individual may experience heightened emotions without the more disturbing, life-altering symptoms like delirium, but hypomanic individuals are at risk of developing full blown mania. 

So I was reading this darn article and I was like... this could be the ‘Personality’ section of Shig’s wiki page.

It’s no secret that Shigaraki is... somewhat unstable, and has been since the beginning, especially in his first few appearances. He’s noticeably childlike, quick to anger and quick to lash out or hurt himself and everyone knows it- particularly Kurogiri, who seems to be ready to step in and calm him down at any given moment.

Even when he doesn’t actually lash out, everyone expects him to. 

So it mentions here that in order to be considered to have manic syndrome, a minimum of three key symptoms from a list of seven must be met (four if the individual displays only irritability, but I don’t think that’s the case here). Let’s see what’s on the list.

Whilst he might not have the blatant arrogance of a lot of anime villains, he definitely believes himself to be entitled to a lot of attention and power, he expects people to listen to him and follow him even when he gives them nothing in return, and gets pissy when the spotlight isn’t on him (see: Stain). He also doesn’t blink an eye at going toe-to-toe with other villains who have more social, political or literal power than him and demanding they bow to him (Overhaul, Redestro). He also has some... somewhat unrealistic ideas of what he’s capable of, but we’ll get to that later. 

Whilst Gigantomachia is the one claiming here to function on 3 hours of sleep, not Shigaraki, the fact that he’s hunting Shigaraki specifically indicates that Shig is running on the same sleep schedule, and appears to be... functional, at least. And he’s been running on this 49 hour waking-3 hour sleeping cycle for a month. I dunno about you but even in a life threatening situation I don’t think a normal individual could do that. Makes me wonder how much sleep he gets if left to his own devices. Somehow I doubt it’s a healthy 8 hours per night. 

I mean, Bakugou is not exactly a paragon of patience, but every villain loves a good monologue and Shigaraki is no exception. He loves giving self-righteous speeches to All Might, to Bakugou, to Overhaul, to Deku, and he’s been called out on the fact that he’s just talking out of his ass before. 

Now... this is a difficult one because we’ve only been privy to Shigaraki’s thinking twice: once when he was walking through the mall and musing about why everyone was so obsessed with Stain, and once when we got to see his exhaustion-induced flashbacks (another thing to discuss later). From what we've seen, it doesn’t look like he does that, but we do know that he’s very quick-thinking, at least. Until we get to spend more time in his head I don’t think we can accurately judge this one. 

Say what you like about his motivations, you can’t say he’s not goal oriented, and he’s certainly not the kind of person to sit still. He wholeheartedly throws himself into his fights and never pulls his punches, even at personal risk. He also has little motor quirks, the most notable being his scratching habit. He doesn’t like sitting still. 

Hm... Honestly, this is the one I don’t think he shows any signs of. He seems fairly good at staying on task, at least from what we’ve seen. 

Do I- Do I even need to go over this one? He’s a villain. He commits crimes and puts himself at risk of bodily harm on a regular basis. He also likes poking the wasps’ nest when it comes to other strong characters, as mentioned earlier. 

So that’s the list, and I’d say there’s only one that is completely inapplicable, one we don’t really know about, and five that have a fair amount of evidence behind it. Yeah, that’d do it. But are there other matchups and clues too? Spoiler alert: yes. 

Thanks, Daruma. You’re really helping him set realistic goals here. 

He has an incredibly warped and corrupted view of the world, and his PTSD has left him feeling physically nauseous in response too... well, the vast majority of normal life, really. So what does he want to do? Just get rid of everything that makes him feel sick. All of it. Reduce the world itself to ash and dust. It goes without saying that this is not a realistic goal, and even in the hypothetical situation where he succeeds... where does he go from there? It doesn’t seem like he knows. He’s single minded, entirely focused on his myopic view of victory with no mind to what happens if he succeeds. It is, as Daruma points out, the sort of plan a child would come up with. 

Let’s face it, he didn’t have to ride on the top of the lorry careening down the highway, and he probably didn’t have to jump off it right into danger either. This bitch wanted to make a scene, for kicks. Honestly the whole taking-Overhaul’s-arms thing was just for kicks. He was gonna be put behind bars anyway, Shigaraki just wanted to prove a point. 

Once again... fairly self explanatory. We’ve seen it happen. 

Aaaand my personal favourite.

Shigaraki has PERFECTED the crazy wide-eye look. 

So yeah. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to state that Shigaraki is an almost textbook case of mania, and what I find interesting about that is that apparently this isn’t something that’s triggered by psychological trauma. I’m sure Shigaraki’s trauma and PTSD certainly don’t help, but idk man, I think he’s just... like that. I think even if he’d had a perfectly normal childhood and been raised well adjusted he’d still behave erratically and excitedly, like all his emotions are dialled up to 11. What’s for sure though is that it makes him a fascinating, fun character to watch, and in my experience he’s super fun to write, too. 

Tl;dr Shigaraki Tomura has manic syndrome, whether or not it’s tied to something else, and I cannot wait to see more of what goes on in his head.

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #107

UPDATE 107: The Classic Question

Last time there was an interlude. Defiant and Dragon continued their hunt for the Slaughterhouse Nine, finding they had caused carnage in a hospital. So now it’s back to Brockton Bay with the Undersiders. Will they have some peace? Let’s find out.

Looks like Taylor is still hanging out in her territory, watching things happening and the construction progress. I suppose she’s without her costume, so it should be easy for her to go around without being noticed. The construction is progressing nicely, and it doesn’t seem like there are any problems going on. This makes her think about the current situation, she’d have liked to go demand Coil for him to let Dinah go, since they fulfilled his demand of keeping their grip on the city. Even though Coil had promised to let go of Dinah, I really don’t think he’ll fulfill it. Call me a skeptical, I just don’t think he’ll let go of someone who’s been such an advantage for him.

It wasn’t like she could have gone to make her own demands; Trickster had already gone to have a talk.

Trickster’s focus was on Noelle, though, and nothing I’d seen indicated that Coil had made any advances on that front. All I knew, really, was what Tattletale had told me and the little things that had come up in our brief discussion with the Travelers about our strategy.  She’d been a girl, maybe not in the best of health.

It was possible Trickster had been trying to save Noelle in the same way I was trying to save Dinah.  The circumstances were different, obviously: Coil was the best answer the Travelers had to Noelle’s situation, but he was the cause of Dinah’s.

You know, if Skitter takes Coil out of the way, I wonder how she’ll handle Noelle’s situation. She can’t just walk away and pretend nothing is happening, she’ll have to at least give a temporary solution. The problem is that neither she nor anyone reading this story at this point knows what exactly is going on. There’s enough evidence it’s something very nasty and needs a lot of precautions, but without any information she can’t even do anything. If only she had an idea of what was happening...I’m not saying she’d be able to come up with a solution Noelle and the Travelers need, but clearly the Noelle Situation is going to be something to consider and deal with.

Oh, looks like I misinterpreted the stuff so far. Taylor is not going around in her territory; she’s examining everything with her bugs. It’s the next day, but she’s currently in the hideout, lying on her bed with her eyes half-open.

Somehow Brian managed to sleep somewhat. It’s not a good night of sleep, but it must have been better than any of the last few nights, no? It’ll do him good, physically he’s in perfect shape, but mentally he’s...well, he’s still traumatized, so sleeping may do him some good. I just hope he’s not having bad dreams. He doesn’t want to see a therapist yet.

Now that I think about it, what are the Undersiders’ options for mental health? Can they go see a therapist? Can they ask Coil for help about this? I’m not sure they can have access to psychologists or therapists due to their status as villains, and they can’t talk to a civilian therapist given their issues stem from supervillainy. All in all, they seem to be kind of screwed.

As if to show how not okay Brian is, he says how he has to force himself to lower his guard while he’s here spending time with Skitter, not because he doesn’t trust her or anything, but because he’s perpetually on alert.

“That’s not what I mean.  I mean, you know.  I… I can’t relax.  Can’t stay still, can’t stop watching over my shoulder or make my brain stop replaying scenes in my head.  Except I can, if I’m active, if I’m doing something like we were against those Dragon suits, or if I’m with you, and I’m lying here in your bed, trying not to wake you up.  Then I know I can’t get worked up, it gives me these boundaries I can force myself to work inside.”

There’s this saying that says the devil loves idle hands, but I guess when you’re as traumatized as Brian is, the devil also messes with the heads. Damn, I hope he’ll be okay...

Ah, Taylor has plans with Dad Hebert! It has been so long since she spent time with him, so I’m glad to see this. I hope this family time will go without any trouble! A nice day, without having to worry much about the villainy and everything it brings along, would do her some good.

Breakfast time, where they try to avoid talking about anything related to work. The most they did was comment about how Skitter hasn’t progressed in mastering the listen through the bugs part, and at this point I don’t think she’ll be capable of doing such a thing without a second trigger...and I really, really don’t want her to have a second trigger. It just is something nobody should go through – heck, the first trigger is something nobody should go through.

Brian talks about his past, and other than his martial artist proficiency there’s not much detail even though Brian talked about some heavy stuff. I imagine it was nothing that wasn’t known before, then. After their conversation, they took a walk around the territory, seeing how the civilians help the construction crews. This makes her wonder how it’s possible she has civilians on her side after everything that was happened.

I felt like I should be losing people each time I got pulled into a fight against a major threat.  I had, when Mannequin and Burnscar had attacked, but I’d walked away from the first Mannequin fight with something of a following, and I’d expected to see my people leaving in droves after Dragon made her move. Except it wasn’t happening, and I wasn’t entirely sure why.

I’m not certain either, I have to admit, but if I had to guess, maybe Skitter’s sincere efforts to help and work for the territory’s wellbeing has been noticed and are now being rewarded. I admit I’m not entirely certain that’s the reason, though. In my opinion, everyone’s opinion of Skitter will be revealed further once the territory is fixed and in decent condition. Only then everyone will show what they truly think. I’m positive Skitter will continue working for everyone’s wellbeing, but will people still accept her after things are okay?

Still, fighting Dragon’s drones was quite a risk and not the action of someone who doesn’t support her, so I’m sure Skitter has fans anyway.

Family time! Taylor walks to her home, seeing a lot of cars in front of the house, cars she doesn’t recognize. For a moment she fears Coil is backstabbing her and putting Dad Hebert in danger, and she mentions in the narration how he has a knife and pretty much a nest of wasps and spiders in her pants – oh god, the mere thought of that is incredibly unnerving – so she takes the plunge and goes to the front door.

Dad Hebert has guests! Family friends and work pals, judging by the person who opened the door. I’m glad despite everything things are well enough for socialization. Taylor is greeted, she doesn’t seem...very enthused about seeing people here, I guess because she expected to be alone with Dad Hebert.

This wasn’t Dad Hebert’s idea; it was an impromptu social visit. Personally I think it’s good, some levity is good in their lives, what with the current situation in the city and all.

Nobody that could be a threat, none of Coil’s people.  I let myself relax.  What had I been thinking?  That he’d strongarm my dad?

In Skitter’s defense, it’s not really impossible. Coil is capable of doing anything if it helps his goals, and Skitter is a liability with her pesky moral opinions. I wouldn’t be surprised if he attacks Dad Hebert at some point to try to dissuade her.

There’ll be a mayoral debate later, and it sounds like afterwards there’ll be votes to define who the mayor will be. I remember Coil had said he had a couple puppets in that race, so in 24 hours he both got the heroes out of his hair and most likely will win the mayoral race. It’s like in this day everything he had worked for is solidifying.

They want Dad Hebert to come by and ask questions about the ferry they all work at, so they all have one thing more to be dissatisfied about with the current mayor – the guy who, may I remind everyone, was intimidated in his own home like three days ago. That incident must have been kept under wraps, judging by how everyone has a very negative opinion of the mayor arguing in Washington Brockton Bay shouldn’t be quarantined and evacuated.

That surprised me.  “You’re not happy the city was saved from being condemned? Did you want to be kicked out of the city?  To leave your home?”

“It’d suck, but the way they were talking about it in the paper, there’s a big fund that’s set aside for covering the damages those Endbringer motherfuckers cause.  Idea was that they’d dip into those funds, give everyone that they ousted a bit to cover the cost of their homes.”

Given the amount of people I don’t think it’d have been much money given to everyone. While I’m sure it’d be a decent amount, I’m not sure it would be enough for the cost of relocating and having to acquire a new place to live in, as well as furniture and everything a home must have. Besides, I’m sure wherever they all go, there’ll be villains too, so...to me as a reader it’s a bit hard to know what’d be the best situation for someone.

They’d give what the houses are worth right now. How much would that be...a couple hundred thousand dollars, perhaps, per home owner? Golly, the government would have needed a huge fund.

Since everyone seemed to have given up on Brockton Bay despite the construction work, Taylor may have felt like her efforts were getting disrespected, because she brings up a “hypothetical” question: would it be better to live in a city where the villains rule but things are actually okay, or where the villains have no control but things are awful?

Turning to me, he said, “I suppose you’re asking the classic question, Taylor.  Would you rather be a slave in heaven or a free man in hell?”

Call me selfish, but I sure would rather live in a place where things are okay, even if...there’s this cloud of terror over everything. Not having immediate safety is terrifying, let me tell you. When you have immediate safety, you can plan for a future where you can get out from under that cloud of terror.

This meeting is a reminder that there will always be people who don’t like the idea of being under villains’ benevolent reign, and it’s a completely valid position. Honestly I can’t say there are many positions that aren’t acceptable here, as long as said positions don’t involve hurting your fellow citizens.

“I’d rather not be a slave or in hell,” my dad responded.  “But sometimes I worry I’m both.  Maybe we don’t get the choice?”

Honestly, in the city’s current situation? Yeah, that sounds about right. It’ll be a while before things get better.

They ask Taylor why she’s bringing such a thing up, and Taylor takes the chance to point out the villains are the ones making noticeable steps to make things better. I don’t doubt the heroes have done their part as well, frankly, but given how what they have done hasn’t been mentioned yet, maybe their work is behind the scenes, instead of immediate relief.

“The problem with that,” my dad said, “Is that we’d be setting humanity back by about three thousand years if we let that happen.  It’d be falling back into an iron age mindset and leadership.  The people with the numbers and the weaponry lay claim to an area through sheer military strength.  They stay in charge as long as they can through family lines, merging families with whoever else has the military strength.  That lasts until the family in power peters out or someone smarter, stronger or better armed comes in to seize control.  Might not sound so bad, until you figure that sooner or later, the person who gets control is going to be someone like Kaiser.”

Hate to admit it, but he’s right. There’s no guarantee the Undersiders will always have control, or even that their reign will be good for the civilians forever. It’s possible in the future someone will try to take them off their thrones. I just hope when such a thing happens a hero’s the one to do it instead of a villain. But hey, silver lining! The world is going to end in less than two years, so it’s not like there will be time for any villain to defeat the Undersiders and take over Brockton Bay! Haha! Ha! Ha...oh man, that’s grim.

Either way, as I see it, the best course of action would be to play along in the hopefully peaceful Brockton Bay the villains will have – apparently – and try to get money and everything in order to get the heck out of the city, go somewhere else where things aren’t like this. That’s going to take a long while to do, though, so...yeah.

Sounds like in this debate there may be talk about the villains and the superheroes! Great! Time to find out about the public opinion.

“I’d offer you a drink,” Kurt said, chuckling, “But that’d be against the law.  How old are you, anyways?”

“Fifteen,” I said.

“Sixteen.”

I turned to look at my dad.

“It’s the nineteenth,” he said.  “Your birthday was a week ago.”

“Oh.”  I’d been a little distracted at the time.  A week ago, that would have been around the time we were wrapping up our confrontation with the Slaughterhouse Nine.  Lovely.

You know, with everything that happens, sometimes I forget Taylor isn’t even an adult yet. Many of the things she and her friends do and think make me forget they’re teenagers. A bunch of teenagers control half of the city. Oh god, if I didn’t know like half of those teenagers are trustworthy enough I’d be kind of scared.

Time to go! While they get into a car, Dad Hebert comments Taylor has changed, that not long ago she’d have stayed silent while everyone talked and she wouldn’t have offered her opinion. He’s right about that, yup. If there’s one thing her villainy has done is make her more assertive. Good for her!

Taylor warning Dad Hebert led to everyone else’s safety. I’m glad! I’m also glad Dad Hebert has friends he can be with. He deserves much better than what his life during Worm has been, seriously. I just hope he doesn’t die anytime soon, or at all.

There are just like five hundred people in the town hall, not a lot when it’s a city. Taylor can see the candidates, three in total. Doesn’t that mean Coil pretty much bought the rest of the competition? Any result that isn’t the current mayor keeping his job will be favorable to him. I really thought there would be more candidates, although I never doubted Coil would get his puppet in the seat of power.

While they wait for everything to start, Taylor makes her usual examination of the surroundings, finding a lot of vans with soldiers – soldiers that aren’t with the PRT. Is it a military presence, perhaps sent by the government? For security reasons?

The armored limousine pulled into the middle of the street, just outside the front doors.  By the time Coil climbed out of the vehicle, his soldiers were either just past the doors on either side of the building or standing at the ready to accompany him by the front.

Oh. He’s here, at the town hall. Things are going to happen and they won’t be good at all. Will he claim credit for everything that’s happening in the city, both good and bad? I don’t think he’ll try to make himself the mayor right then and there, because then what would be the point of having two candidate puppets? He’s planning something, that’s for sure, but I’m not sure what it’ll be. I almost never can figure out what it’ll be before it happens, hah.

Either way, this should be a good place to stop. There’ll be some stuff happening next time! What I wonder, though, is if it will be in a new arc or in this one. I can’t wait to find out what’ll happen!

Next time: in two updates

[junker-town]

Media Club: A Perfect Planet

Getty Images

Despite incredible cinematography and fascinating wildlife, Sir David Attenborough’s latest is not the step forward it ought to be.

2020 did not contain what is usually the BBC Natural History Unit’s yearly blue-chip release, because 2020 sucked at pretty much everything. (Except at launching Secret Base. Obviously.) Instead we had to wait until early 2021 to get A Perfect Planet, which released in full on January 4th.

Despite its worryingly Panglossian name, I had high hopes. Obviously, A Perfect Planet would be an absolute masterpiece of wildlife cinematography, since it’s a BBC Earth production, but it also seemed to promise a new direction for these big documentaries, which have drifted away from more serious scientific storytelling into the realm of the shiny shiny.

This was meant to be something new:

A Perfect Planet is a unique fusion of blue chip natural history and earth science that explains how our living planet operates. This five-part series will show how the forces of nature drive, shape and support Earth’s great diversity of wildlife. The first four episodes explore the power of volcanoes, sunlight, weather and oceans.

It was pretty easy to see a blurb like that and get carried away. What would a documentary that treated the interconnecting systems of life on Earth look like? Could we get a through-line from, say, plate tectonics to oceanography to astronomy to biochemistry to explain the rich feeding grounds of the Humboldt current? Might we get a detailed look at the evidence that life emerged at undersea volcanic vents? Might photosynthesis be explored in something like full?

The answer to all of these questions turns out to be “no”. A Perfect Planet takes its supposed premise, tosses most of it away and uses the remainder as an excuse to stitch together a bunch of shiny shinies. Not that I’m averse to shiny shinies. Some of the shinies are shiny indeed — take, for instance, this shot:

BBC Earth

This is from the first sequence of Volcanos, and shows the flamingo crêche at Lake Natron, in Tanzania. It’s an astonishingly cool (and sometimes brutal) look at the nesting habits of the lesser flamingo, which relies on the volcanic lake to breed. But while the flamingos are new and welcome, vulcanism is peripheral.

The second episode is more of the same. The Sun opens with a look at the fig wasp, which is a zoological celebrity that has never been properly filmed before. The BBC Earth team manages it, giving us an extraordinary look at the symbiotic relationship between the planet’s weirdest flower and its tiny wasp pals. What does this have to do with the actual sun? The sun ripens figs. (Duh.)

Here’s another example from that episode:

BBC Earth

A) I had no idea that arctic hares existed in such riotous abundance, B) this is a beautiful shot in its own right and C) in motion really gives an idea of the benefits of herding behavior in the face of predation. Presented with a blurry cavalcade of hares, the wolves simply cannot pick out a target, and are forced to give up the hunt.

What does this have to do with the sun? Fuck if I know.

Instead of living up to its full potential, A Perfect Planet is a pastiche of scenes only vaguely aligned with the episode’s concepts. Sure, we get a couple nice shots of volcanoes, and a brief overview of the moon’s effect on the tides, but these are all peripheral to what the show wants to be, which is the same collection of shinies we’ve been watching since the first Planet Earth. Science is subordinated to spectacle.

A Perfect Planet is also ... weirdly horny, even for a nature show. I am absolutely never going to get over Sir David Attenborough saying “his aim is to deposit a packet of sperm inside her mouth,” and I doubt anyone else will either. There’s also rock-climbing snake orgy, and bits of the aforementioned fig wasp sequence are so unsettlingly perverse I hesitate to commit them to writing.

Ultimately, A Perfect Planet is worth watching. There’s some stuff in here I’ve never seen before (the vampire finches!), and most of the familiar sequences benefit from significant improvements in cinematography and definition. Also I’m a sucker for gannet hunting scenes, and we get one of those, so I feel bad for complaining.

But still, given what was promised, the result isn’t as perfect as it ought to be.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Friday 14th August 2020

End of Week Catch Up

This was taken as we sat out last evening. Apart from Thunder Flies and Wasps, we had quite a bit of noisy company.

The clouds kept gathering and the sky would go dark, but apart from about three spots of rain on my screen, it stayed dry and then the clouds would move away again. It was quite strange.

The garden looked dark, but that’s mostly because there are so many trees surrounding it as you can see from the bedroom window view below. There’s going to have to be some serious cutting back again as soon as the birds have finished nesting. What with the Wisteria at the front and this lot, we’re less locked down and more Sleeping Beauty’s Castle incoming.

I was talking about the noise of flying Geese only yesterday and I held up my camera, not even sure if I’d catch them as they zoomed past, but I did.

There they go

One of the best things about my photography is that every time I see the results on my lap top screen, it’s like getting a little present , because I’m never quite sure what I might be seeing and there’s the element of surprise.

I complained today that Goldfinch are definitely trolling me. They are SO quick and their visits brief. I did actually see them in a Charm earlier this afternoon as they flew around the garden and into the woods and right now I caught some proof - if only I’d had time to get it into focus it would’ve been a lovely shot.

Sadly they both flew before I could have a second go. BUT and it’s a big but, since starting this piece, I’ve had something of a surprise encounter. I’ll upload the evidence tomorrow. Well, I have to keep something fresh for content.

All day actually it’s been a bit grim. Dry but dark, humid and ‘threatening’ This is a good representation of the light

From my (in)famous Birds on the Line Series

We took the big car out for a run down the lane because apparently the suspension had locked in the low position. It was fine though, all we need to do now is make sure we keep it running. I think I need to start looking for a trickle charger to be on the safe side.

We’ve been trying to listen to Test Match Special on Radio 5LSX all day and the play’s been on and off so much they described it as the Hokey Cokey day. In Out, In Out. A bit like my Goldfinches.

Here’s how last night ended

Slight drawback of having the windows open all evening. 

Conclusion was another successful eviction. I’m turning into TV’s own Big Brother here. Now there’s an idea/pitch for a show, we’re never short of anything to evict here in the country. Call me if you’re in the market, let’s talk.

♦ outside links, in bold type, are not affiliated to this blog

[cosimaballettithomas-blog]

Blog No. 11

The topic of this week’s readings was environmental hazards and their effects on humans. Miller’s Chapter 17: Environmental Hazards and Human Health describes the different kinds of hazards we face and the ways in which we can assess them. Riskaccording to Miller is “the probability of suffering harm from a hazard that can cause injury, disease, death, economic loss, or damage” while a risk assessment is “the process of using statistical methods to estimate how much harm a particular hazard can cause to human health, or to the environment” and lastly, risk management “involves deciding whether or how to reduce a particular risk to a certain level and at what cost” (Miller 2012, 437). Miller makes the point that risk damage is complicated by factors like media hype that causes people to obsess over unlikely risks such as plane crashes and ignore actual common risks, such as car accidents and heart attacks (437). Another example of this is cancer, which, according to the 2009 President’s Cancer Panel Report, affects 41% of Americans (President’s Cancer Panel 2009). I had no idea that number was so high and I must admit I am very surprised because I don’t directly know anyone who has suffered from cancer, which only serves to speak to my point that cancer is another common danger that people don’t actively think about like they do plane crashes, unless of course they have a strong family history of it, know people with cancer, etc.

There are many different kinds of hazards. A pathogen is a biological hazard and “an organism that can cause disease in another organism,” such as bacteria and viruses (Miller 2012, 438). Infectious diseases are caused by pathogens that invade cells or tissues and multiply, e.g. malaria and measles (438). A bacterial disease “such as tuberculosis spreads as the bacteria multiple” whereas a viral disease“such as flu or HIV spreads as viruses take over a cell’s genetic mechanisms to copy themselves.” Lastly, a transmissible or contagious disease is transmitted between people such as the flu and measles whereas a non-transmissible disease is not caused by living organisms and cannot be spread, e.g. cardiovascular disease, cancer and diabetes (Miller 2012, 438). Geography has a lot to do with the prevalence, origin, and spread of diseases. Malaria, for example and as aforementioned is an infectious disease caused by a parasite and spread by a specific kind of mosquito bite effectively killing red blood cells of the and leading to fever like symptoms and the deaths of almost 3000 people per day (Miller 2012, 444). These mosquitoes reside mostly in the southern hemisphere in Africa and East Asia, as well as northern Latin America (see image below). Miller explains that “during the 1950’s and 1960’s, the spread of malaria was sharply curtailed when swamplands and marches where mosquitoes breed were drained or sprayed with insecticides;” however, it has made a comeback largely due to tropical forest clearing and development (Miller 2012, 444).

                                                                                                          (Treated UK)

In addition to biological hazards, chemical hazards also have harmful effects such as cancer and birth defects (Miller 2012, 446). Toxic chemicals are a kind of hazard that can severely harm human and animal health, e.g. arsenic and lead. Carcinogens are cancer causing chemicals that can cause malignant, cancerous cells to multiply rapidly leading to the development of tumors (446). Another chemical hazard are PCBs which “are a class of more than 200-chlorine containing organic compounds” that can become vaporized when they enter the air and were for a long time used in products such as lubricants, paints, and pesticides (Miller 2012, 446). PCBs were banned in 1977 in response to a litany of studies showing evidence of their cancer-causing capacity. However, because PCBs are so stable, nonflammable and have slow break-down times, they will remain in the environment for a long time (447). This just goes to show how important the role of science is in informing us about how our processes and habits are affecting not only the environment but our health, as explicated by the video, “Body Pollution, Chemical Toxicity” which shows old NBC footage reporting on research that discovered evidence of chemicals known to exist in air and water that were now accumulating in human bodies, i.e. body pollution (Body Pollution, Chemical Toxicity 2007). This was shocking news at the time and likely caused quite a stir in people who up until then likely could not have conceived that chemicals from products such as perfume and hairspray could possibly harm their bodies.

Miller suggests we apply the principles of sustainability to our endeavor to eliminate environmental hazards such as by shifting to renewable energy and resources in order to reduce pollution produced by coal manufacturing (Miller 2012, 462). I realize that biomass at a large scale is environmentally adverse; however, outdoor household biomass use has so much potential and is more efficient than charcoal. I think people are skeptical of biomass because it often involves clear cutting; however, small scale biomass can be created simply from animal and wood waste. An Environmental News Network article titled “New Biomass Plant to Cut Simon Fraser University Greenhouse Gases by Two-Thirds” describes a recent project conducted by the university a few years ago to “divert wood waste from the landfill and help reduce greenhouse gasses at the University by implementing the biomass into the heating plant (ENN 2017). Biomass from wood waste not only creates no new waste, but it also reduces existing waste. In addition, it is completely reliable, renewable, and free and should be implemented more in our strive for carbon neutrality.

Miller’s Chapter 21: Solid and Hazardous Waste discusses what solid and hazardous waste are, their effects, and how we should address and manage them (Miller 2012, 558). Solid waste includes anything solid that we throw away such as industrial solid waste from mining, farming, and manufacturing processes (558). The PowerPoint explains how, despite the ways in which the “industrial, medical, and green revolutions” have vastly improved human life, they have also created new humanly caused/influenced waste pollution, environmental hazards, and public health issues through their linear-high output systems” which are highly polluting and devoid of any biomimicry methodology, to be discussed later (Prof’s PowerPoint). Another example is municipal solid waste or, general household trash. Lastly, hazardous waste such as medical waste and pesticides is harmful to health. There are two major kinds of hazardous waste, organic compounds like PCBs and pesticides and non-degradable toxic heavy metals like lead and mercury (Miller 2012, 559). The UN Environmental Program estimates that more-developed countries output approximately 85% of hazardous waste, with the United States as the greatest producer due to its military and chemical/mining industries, followed by China (Miller 2012, 559).

We essentially have two options when it comes to addressing solid waste, the first is waste management that involves the controlling of waste to reduce environmental impacts without significantly reducing the waste being produced (561). The second option is waste reduction which generally involves a significant reduction accompanied by more intense reusing, recycling, and/or composing methods (Miller 2012, 561). In response to Miller’s Critical Thinking Question #9 on page 579, if I had to select the three most important components to deal with solid waste it would be (1) Significant waste reduction accomplished through methods such as biodegradable packaging, (2) Banning all unnecessary single use products such as Styrofoam cups and plastic bags accompanied by taxation on paper bags to encourage reusable bag use, (3) Imitation of Curitiba, Brazil’s trash collecting program, Camibo Verde which compensates people for collecting and bringing trash to one of the many collection sites throughout the city in exchange for things like fresh produce and bus tokens. With respect to hazardous waste, I would implement taxes on excessive hazardous waste such as PCB’s. I would also ban pesticides that are not made out of wholesome and environmentally conscious materials and provide monetary incentives for farms that adopt natural pesticide methods such as bio-solarization which uses solar energy to manage pests by laying a tarp over soil to trap heat which effectively makes the soil inhospitable for most pests thus eliminating the need for harmful pesticides.

In Chapter 21 Miller defines biomimicry as the heart of the three principles of sustainability and “the science and art of discovering and using natural principles to help solve human problems” (Miller 2012, 581). It consists of two actions, (1) Observation of environmental changes and ”how natural systems have responded to such changing conditions over many millions of years,” (2) Mimicry of these responses and implementing them into human systems to aid us in addressing current environmental issues (581). A relevant case of this is the food web which “serves as a natural model for responding to the growing problem of these wastes” (581). Janine Benyus elaborates on this in her Ted Talk titled “biomimicry in action” where she discusses how important it is that we look to nature for answers to our design issues. She uses the example of spring and the deeply intricate timing and coordination involved in how it is designed (Benyus 2009). Another example she relies on are wasps’ nests which are so architecturally sound that they seem almost human-made. Moreover, Cradle to Cradle Design “is a biomimetic approach to the design of products and systems that models human industry on nature’s processes viewing materials as nutrients circulating in healthy, safe metabolisms” (Wikipedia 2019). This approach tasks industry with the responsibility of preserving ecosystems and simultaneously managing the circulation of organic nutrients in a productive and sustainable way. The article suggests that Cradle to Cradle design can be implemented by virtually any industrial system, big or small, such as the Chinese Government’s construction of Huangbaiyu City that was rooted in Cradle to Cradle design methodology such as by converting rooftops into locations for small, vertical farms (Wikipedia 2019).

Word Count: 1837

Discussion Question: What do you think we have yet to find a sustainable waste management system, given what we know about the effects of landfills, mostly having to do with methane emissions?

Work Cited

Miller, Tyler G., and Scott Spoolman. "Chapter 17: Environmental Hazards and Human Health." Edited by Scott Spoolman. InLiving in the Environment. 17th ed. Belmont, CA: Brooks/Cole, Cengage Learning, 2012.

Van Buren, Edward. “Prof’s PowerPoint Notes.” https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BzKbjVLpnX0RMjVGYUwwZlBXa28/view

Miller, Tyler G., and Scott Spoolman. "Chapter 21: Solid and Hazardous Waste." Edited by Scott Spoolman. In Living in the Environment. 17th ed. Belmont, CA: Brooks/Cole, Cengage Learning, 2012.

Benyus, Janine. "Biomimicry in Action." TED. July 2009. Accessed April 23, 2019. https://www.ted.com/talks/janine_benyus_biomimicry_in_action#t-29010.

"Cradle-to-Cradle Design." Wikipedia. April 03, 2019. Accessed April 02, 2019. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cradle-to-cradle_design.

Body Pollution, Chemical Toxicity. Body Pollution, Chemical Toxicity. June 12, 2007. Accessed April 2, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0JZPNmkV3zE.

United States. Executive Office. President's Cancer Panel, 2008-2009 Annual Report. 2009. Accessed April 2, 2019. https://drive.google.com/file/d/0BzKbjVLpnX0RelBIVmVUOTl2SUU/view.

"New Biomass Plant to Cut Simon Fraser University's Greenhouse Gases by Two-thirds." Environmental News Network. October 17, 2017. Accessed April 02, 2019. https://www.enn.com/component/content/article?id=52858:new-biomass-plant-to-cut-simon-fraser-university&Itemid=151#39;s-greenhouse-gases-by-two-thirds&catid=8.

"Our Malaria World Map of Estimated Risk." Treated.com UK. Accessed May 02, 2019. https://www.treated.com/malaria/world-map-risk.

[superprincesspea]

The Honey House, Chapter 25

Secrets and Lies

MASTERLIST

Rae sat on the floor opposite Daryl. The bare wood had become uncomfortable after a time but neither of them moved or spoke, they barely even looked at each other. They simply existed, each waiting in their own silent world as a hazy winter sun beamed between broken roof tiles of the dilapidated building. It was Rick who told her to wait here, that from here she would get the best vantage point of Negan and his men but it didn’t seem like enough. If she was going to believe the stories she was being told then she wanted to hear what he was saying and she wanted to look him in the eye when he took supplies from these people.

The rumble of vehicles was faint but they both heard it, her eyes locking with Daryl’s as they scrambled to the window overlooking the road. Rae wanted to see Negan’s face from the first possible moment and when she finally spotted him, his laugh was curling across his lips and she could almost hear the sound of it. Her heart ached as she pictured the way it had been when they’d spent the night in her apartment. She wanted to warn him, to tell him to turn around but she was powerless. All she could do was stand and watch.

The trucks rolled into Alexandria and more than twenty fully armed Saviors jumped out just like Rick said they would. She kept her rifle trained on Negan’s vehicle, watching as he climbed from the cabin and swung Lucille onto his shoulder. He had a huge grin slapped across his face as he sauntered over to Rick and he pretty much looked as arrogant as she’d ever seen him but that was Negan and Rae was okay with that.

He began to walk with Rick, a small group of Saviors trailing behind while the others scattered like they knew exactly what they were supposed to be doing. After a while some of the Savior's returned to the trucks with boxes full of supplies and hard set faces that told her this wasn’t exactly a happy visit. She had no idea where Negan had gone, he’d disappeared around a corner and for all she knew he could be making family dinner or playing a game of chess while the trucks were loaded.

She dropped the rifle to her side and turned to Daryl. It didn’t look great but it didn’t exactly look bad either. Yes, the Saviors were loading up the trucks with supplies but what was the arrangement? She had no idea how this had started, all she had was the word of strangers.

“What am I supposed to be seeing here? I can’t hear what they’re saying, how do I know that Negan doesn’t pay you in kind? How do I know you’re not trying to hurt the Saviors? I should be down there. I should ask him to his face.” Rae was beginning to feel flustered, guilt made her stomach churn with uneasiness at ever doubting him as the proof of his misdeeds seemed to be hanging by a weakened thread. Who the hell were these Alexandrian’s anyway?

Daryl stood in front of her, “If he see’s ya down there then it's gonna be bad for everyone.”

“Bad for you!” Rae spat, brushing past him, her temper flaring as her feet urged her to Negan.

He grabbed her before she made more than two steps, his arms locking around her arms and waist, the strength of them crushing her as he growled, “if he knows we brought ya ‘ere then he’ll know we’re plannin’ somethin’.”

Rae’s head whipped around to look at him, “what are you planning?”

Daryl kept his grip tight but he looked away, chewing his lip like he’d said too much.

“What do you want from me?” Rae demanded, struggling against him, even more desperate to leave this tower and find Negan.

He opened his mouth to answer but a clatter of wood caught their attention and suddenly she was free, Daryl released his grip in favour of unsheathing his knife as they both focused their attention on the door, their breaths held. A clunk of heavy boots on wooden stairs let them know their hiding place was no longer a secret.

Rae’s heart began to pound, the sound of it filling her ears as she rested her empty rifle against the wall. She pulled her knife from her belt, it was the one Negan had given given her and she held it at a height with her chest, her stance matching Daryl’s like she knew what it meant to fight a real person and not a halfer.

Could she kill someone right now? The footsteps were closer, turning the final bend of the four story staircase.

Should she give herself in and demand to be taken to Negan? Her palm was slick, the knife felt like it would slide from her hand if she actually tried to use it. She glanced at Daryl, he was ready, his eyes focused on the door, he looked like he could tear a man in half and she felt more unsure than ever.

The door banged open and two men rushed in.

Rae’s heart was a lump in her throat, time moved in its own way and before she could decide to  react the men held up their hands, their words almost muffled against the adrenaline that was pumping around her body. “It's us, it's us,” they repeated as Daryl relaxed his stance and Rae’s lungs filled back up with air.

She hardly recognised Mark. His face was melted on one side and the sight of it made her stomach turn over, the mere thought of the pain he would have endured with such an injury was unbearable. But then, the man besides him had the same melted face, the same size, the same location and suddenly she wondered if it was from an injury at all. She must have been staring and it must have been for a while because Mark didn’t say anything more than, “it was Negan.”

Her gaze flicked to meet his, her knife slipping back into its holder, “what?”

“Negan did this to me, to Dwight,” he pointed to the man standing in the shadows.

“Why would he do something like that?”

Mark stepped closer, his voice low, “he did it because... I slept with his wife.”

The words didn’t quite register. Rae felt confusion furrow in her brow as she remembered Negan telling her that his wife had died before the world had ended. She was shaking head, trying to ignore the feeling that was sinking like ice into her bones.

“Negan’s married,” Mark confirmed.

Married, as in married right now, a living breathing wife. It couldn’t be true.

All the men were looking at her, she felt like a rabbit in the headlights and had to look away. She focused her attention to where an old wasp nest had fallen from one of the beams. It was snagged on a piece of wood and everytime the wind blew through the hole in the roof it rustled like a paper bag.

“Ya didn’t know?” Daryl asked, his gruff voice as delicate as she could imagine.

“He’s married?” Rae wished she didn’t sound so broken when the words spilled over but she only sounded how she felt.

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl shifted from foot to foot, she could practically feel the way the men were looking at her and when she glanced over her shoulder it was just as she suspected, pity.

The only thing worse was that she could tell there was more, that there was something else wrong. None of them were speaking but they all looked like they had something to say. It reminded her of the time when her dog had died and Grandma had sat her down with Sarah and a plate of cookies as she tried to find the words.

“Tell me!” Rae demanded. She didn’t want to be weak, she didn’t want to be the kind of girl that let a boy break her heart when the world was falling apart. She focused on being angry. Angry they weren’t speaking, angry Negan was a married man, angry at herself.

“He…” Mark cleared his throat, reconsidering his words before choosing them carefully, “he has more than one.”

Dwight surged from his place in the shadows, “he has five!” he snarled. “He fucks five women! One of them is my wife and I got this as a thank you,” he pointed to his scar before looking along Rae’s body with disgust. “I guess he didn’t think you were worth making into lucky number six.”

If he’d have slapped her in the face with a brick it would have hurt less and stunned her just the same.

“Hey, don’t be an asshole!” Mark shouted, shoving Dwight so hard that he half fell to the floor but Rae was too dazed to care about Dwight and what he might think about her.

Five wives, the words ran uneasy circles around her brain while her body tried to find a way to react. “Five. Wives.” She was overwhelmed, anger would be a close word to what she was feeling but it burned hotter than that. It consumed her, she barely knew what she was doing only that within a heartbeat she was being restrained and three men could hardly contain her white hot fury.

A hand muffled her mouth as she kicked her legs, demanding, “let me go! let me go!” She clawed at them, fighting with every ounce of strength until unbidden tears began to spill down her cheeks and she crumpled to a messy pile on the floor.

Mark crouched besides her, “If you go out there then he’ll kill us. You can’t trust him Rae, when you start planting your crops then he’ll want to take half of everything. If you disobey him then,” he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him, “if you’re lucky a messed up face is all you get for breaking Negan’s rules.”

“We should go,” Dwight interrupted, his tone urgent as he glanced out the window.

Mark squeezed her shoulder as he stood, “I’m sorry Rae. I’m sorry I had to tell you like this and I’m sorry that Negan-”

“Just go,” Rae hissed. Mark could have found a way to tell her the truth before she’d made such a fool out of herself. She didn’t want him here to watch her grief, she didn’t want anyone to see it.

Rae turned to face the wall as their footsteps receded. She could still feeling Daryl standing watch behind her but he had the good sense to not breath a word or try to comfort her as she sobbed in silence. The tears were painful, stinging as she tried to cut them off and wipe the evidence away with the back of her hand. She could hear the trucks rumbling back to life, the metal clatter of the gate grinding open and she didn’t have the strength to watch them leave.

She had no idea how long she sat like that but when the sound of footfalls filled the stairs again she knew it would be Rick, she forced herself to her feet, turning to Daryl with a look she hoped conveyed, ‘don’t dare, don’t you dare tell them how much I cried.’

He didn’t.

Rae followed Rick and Michonne to where a group of people were waiting around a wooden table. One of them was Jesus, Rick told her the others were from a community called ‘The Kingdom’. They all watched her take a seat and before anyone spoke she asked, her voice empty, “what do you want me to do?”

Rick sat a little straighter, a smile filling his eyes even if he tried to keep his face even. “Mark told me that Negan visits you for… um…” he narrowed his eyes, finding the words and she knew what he was trying to say.

“Sex.” The room was silent and if she’d made these people uncomfortable then she was glad. If they were half as uncomfortable as she was feeling then she was happy enough to laugh and the sound of it was bitter.

“He visits with you,” Rick reaffirmed glancing around the table, “we wanna know when, we wanna know how many men he brings and if there’s a chance you can get him alone.”

Negan was due to visit her in a couple of days yet she found herself saying, “he’s not ‘visiting’ until next month.”

“Will he be alone?” Rick asked.

Rae knew exactly what these people wanted to hear so she told them it, “I can make sure he is.”

Rick looked at Michonne and chatter started around the table. Everyone making plans, everyone deciding the best way to hurt Negan as she focused on the door, wishing away the moments until she could leave this place and go home.

“When he’s with her could be the smartest move, the easiest way to get him when he’s vulnerable,” somebody said and she suddenly felt like she might actually be sick. Even if Negan did have five wives and even if he was a monster to everyone but her, the idea of his vulnerability being exploited had her taking a deep breath to keep the nausea at bay. Could she really be the one to do that?

“Are you sure she’s on board with this?” one of the Kingdom’s men demanded, his finger pointing in her direction as a room filled with eyes began to scrutinise her as if they could break the truth with one look.

Rae had lied to Grandma Ellie a hundred times and if she could do it then she could do it now. She stood, her hands gripped against the edge of the table, her voice loud and even. “I’m not here to prove myself to you people. I’ve seen and I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do. I’ll give you a week to decide what you want from me and I’ll be waiting for your answer at the daycare.”

Nobody stopped her as she began to walk out the door, nobody stopped her as she walked out the front gate and when she was walking away she realised she was lost. She thought about turning around but something held her back, it might have been pride but she didn’t feel proud. Maybe she just needed to be alone and as much as she wanted to go home, being lost seemed like a better option. She heard the rev of an engine and her solitude was short lived.

Daryl pulled up alongside her, his boots falling to the cracked tarmac, a motorcycle between his thighs. Rae had been a teenager the first and last time she’d been on the back of a motorcycle. One ride had been all that was needed for her to know she’d never go on one again. He handed her a helmet and lit himself a cigarette while he waited for her to put it on. He wasn’t the kind of man that said much so despite the mode of transportation Rae was glad it was him out here and despite her reluctance she found herself doing exactly what he wanted without a single word of protest.

The ride home was just what she needed. It was thrilling to watch the world whip by, she couldn’t really think about anything but leaning into the turns, the wind hitting her face as she became part of the road. There were no red lights to stop the journey, no cars to honk their horn or exhausts spilling out clouds of fumes. There was just freedom and even if she had her arms wrapped around Daryl, it felt like the solitude she craved.

He stopped after a while, climbing off the bike and disappearing into a crop of trees to relieve himself while Rae took off her helmet and shook out her hair. It was getting late. The sun was hanging low, the breeze of the ride was starting to cut like ice through her parka. She shivered, rubbing her hands together to bring the numbness back to life and when Daryl returned he offered her a cigarette before lighting his own.

“Ya wanna keep goin’ or find somewhere to stop fer the night?”

Rae looked along the road, in the distance she could see a halfer ambling its way towards them. There were probably others creeping their way through the trees, triggered by the sound of the bike. “I just wanna go home.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows but he didn’t speak, he took a seat against his bike watching as she began to pace the road, trying to make sense of Negan in between puffs of her cigarette. She was in denial, the shock of five wives had worn off and all that was left was the idea that it was all a lie, a fabrication. But she wasn’t that stupid, she wasn’t that girl, the girl that clung onto false hope as all the evidence was laid in front of her face.

What did she really know about Negan? Did he have children? What were his wives like? Why did he do this to her? Daryl kept track of her every step making her feel like a caged animal but what annoyed her the most was that she couldn’t read him. “You must think I’m pretty stupid.”

“Nope,” he took a long drag of his cigarette and ventured no more information.

Rae found herself striding towards him and maybe she wanted a fight, “well I think I’m pretty stupid.”

He looked at her like she might be downright crazy and maybe she was. She didn’t look away,  she held his line of sight without blinking until relented and said, “I trusted someone, ended up gettin’ a friend killed with my own damn bow. Now the son of a bitch says he wants to help us an’ I’m trustin’ him again. How’s that for fuckin’ stupid?”

All her fight was gone, she sagged, her voice quite, “so we’re both stupid.”

“Looks like it,” he whispered, flicking the butt of his cigarette away.

Rae sighed, taking the helmet when he passed it to her and clicking the straps under her chin as she thought about how Daryl and Rick hadn’t mentioned Negan’s harem of women, how they’d thought she already knew about the arrangement.  “I would have never been with Negan if I’d have known about his wives.”

“It don’t matter.”

“It matters to me!” It bothered her that these people would think she was the kind of woman not to care, the kind of woman who was happy to be second best or in Negan’s case, sixth best. She wasn’t. She’d asked Negan not to hurt her and he had, more than he could have known, the lies, the humiliation. She wanted to hurt him back, she wanted to make him feel the way he’d made her feel. She thought about kissing Daryl, how easy it would be to press her lips to his and how well the revenge would satisfy her even if it was only for a moment.

“Are ya gettin’ on the bike or not?” he said and she laughed, scolding herself for even thinking about kissing another man. That wasn’t who she was, or was it? She hardly knew anymore. She felt like Negan, this whole situation, was killing a part of her and maybe it was the last part. The part that still tried to cling onto her old life, the part that still believe in honest people and a future where communities would come together.

“Take me home,” she said to Daryl, climbing onto the back of his bike and tucking her hands into the sleeves of her coat. She might not have known what she was going to do about Negan, Alexandria or anything else but she knew she trusted no one. Not even herself.

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[undertheflagwow]

Lujo’s Log #4

I likely should have included this in the last entry, but upon meeting out punishment for the mutiny the captain also chose to award me the position of first mate.  I was reticent to bring it up at first, not because of any lack of confidence or wishing to gloss over the promotion, but because it took me longer than the time aloted to put my thoughts in order when it came to what was given to me along with the promotion.  Instead of just additional responsibility and perhaps a pay upgrade what I was presented with was a small Azurite pendant, carved to look like a sharks tooth.  I'm not sure what would be gained if I were to attempt to wear Azurite as jewelery otherwise, but when I wear this particular piece I seem to be considerably strengthened.  Were it just that I would likely wear the necklace at all times, but along with the increased abilities comes an odd sensation.  Intoxicating seems lacking as a term.  Rather it might be best to describe it as the feeling of jumping into cold water on a hot day.  For a brief stunning moment the onus of the heat is gone and in its place is a sharpening of every sense, a feeling like your entire body was not truely connected before but now in one glorious moment everything is running at peak efficacy.  When wearing The Tooth that all to fleeting feeling is constant, or at least my experiment have shown it doesn't seem to fade for at least several minutes.  Such a heady feeling makes removing it harder than it has a right to be.  I dislike the concept of not being truely in control of my actions and emotions, so I am taking my time with it, hoping that either through multiple minor exposures it will innure myself to it, or that given enough time I might find out if the feeling is in any way corrupting.

Back to where we had left off we made our way to the misty isles of Pandaria.  Little happened of note during the voyage so I will simply skip to our arrival.  We made landfall in a small village and while the locals seemed slightly wary at first, once they had acertained our purpose they were welcoming and friendly to the point where if I hadn't heard rumors of such I do believe I would have suspected them of trying to lower our guard.  Regardless we were fortunate enough to be able to resupply with ease, as well as pick up a few more spices that we hadn't encountered before in an effort to make the food less bland and more varried for the long voyages ahead.  Few of the locals seemed to have any real interest in leaving their island behind but even in that first village we had a recruit.  Spooky managed to rapidly befriend a Pandarian by name of Shu, wether this took place before or after getting him blind drunk I couldn't say as I was busy with other business during the meat of their initial meeting.  Still in grand tradition we hauled his drunk carcass aboard and left without giving him any additional time to consider the matter.

From there we made our was to another port that had been mentioned by the harbor master as to a place we might be more likely to find people more likely to have either the wanderlust or perhaps curiocity that would lead to them being more ammenable to joining us.  In a rare turn of events I took the helm as Hound had evidently decided to pass out at midday.  Fortunately despite not being in the best of practice the ship got their with no incidents.  Upon arrival we got a chance to see another race that inhabits the isles, a fish like group called the Jinyu (literally no idea if I am writing that even remotely correctly).  The port we had arrived in was an odd collection of loose lumber and driftwood that made for a large floating harbor of sorts, and sure enough with a brief conference at the tavern we were able to recruit several of each Pandarian and Jinyu to our cause.  While at first they seemed unclear as to the concept of piracy/privateer work with a bit of explanation as to basic economic principles as well as the only vague legal rights of the high seas they took to the idea in stride.  While handling this Spooky once again befriended another local, a fisherman named Kody.  Given her abilities of going back and forth between utterly terrifying and amazingly sociable it seems likely that she is going to be the best when it comes to general recruitment whenever we arrive at a port.

After the new crew gathered their belongings, as well as a number of things to help Wasp in our, to their eyes, lacking mess I alerted the Captain that we had finished and he gave them a rousing speach.  They received it well and it seemed like the beginning of our next stretch of voyage would be pleasant, however fate it seemed had other things in store.  A large storm hit us shortly after we had set out and while I attempted to attenuate the winds with a bracelet I had taken from my mentor at the start of this journey it seemed to only make the storm worsen.  We all retreated to the area below deck when we heard crying from the crows nest.  The winds and rain were harsh enough that our Gnomish companion was trapped up their and was unlikely to be able to make it below or weather the storm without assistance.  Hound and myself were able to get her safely below, but not without me having to both don The Tooth and making use of the shapechanging magic unique to my order.  Given the reactions of the rest of the crew it seems few if any were familiar with the power and most were startled.  It might have been amusing at any other time but for now while we had made it below deck with everyone we still were not free of the storm and so began the long vigil of waiting out nature itself.

[pbjpuppy]

Walks

A short horror story I liked enough to share!

--

I’ve been going on a lot of walks recently. 

‘Cause, y’know being in the house all the time isn’t really good for you. Like, y’know, cabin fever and stuff? Plus, we just did this unit in science- through the computer, they’re calling it distance learning- about indoor air pollution, and how the air inside a home can be multiple times more polluted than outside air, and how most people spend most of their time indoors (90%!), which really makes sitting in my bedroom for long periods of time kind of unappealing. 

I don’t always like staying in my room anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I spend most of my time in there like any other teenager does, and it’s great! I love my room. I’m even lucky enough to have my own instead of having to share it with a sibling like some people do. But still, even if you live in paradise it’s a prison if you can’t leave, so I don’t stay in there all the time. Sometimes I just wander around my house in circles instead. Or sit in my dad’s room. 

Anyway- walks. Lots of them. One every day is the new routine, unless I get lazy, which has happened once or twice and I always regret it. To the end of the block, which intersects the road in a “T” shape, then I turn to the right and walk all the way until the sidewalk ends (Through the old elementary school’s parking lot- I’m always worried security will yell at me, but so far I’ve been peacefully ignored), then I turn back and walk all the way past my block again to the other end of the sidewalk, then home. It’s not the most scenic route; I live in the suburbs of Long Island and all the trees are dead because it’s only just turned April, and all there is to see is houses and road. 

I keep myself entertained, though. There’s actually a lot to see if you really look. Nothing extraordinary, but that’s kind of what I like about it. I keep my eyes to the ground a lot, and you see a lot of litter on the ground: Cups, cans, cigarette boxes, packs of tissues, chicken wire, caution tape, strange boxy wooden contraptions that look busted and have been abandoned. Once I even saw an unopened condom. It’s an environmental nightmare, of course, but for the arrogant human on her walk it provides plenty of brain food. For every piece of trash there was a living, breathing human who held it, who used it, who discarded it. I wonder what they’re like and if I’ll ever meet them, what they’re up to. If they’re alive right now. 

There’s not much that’s all too impressive in terms of nature, like I said, but it’s still outside, and I’ve seen a bunch of interesting nature-y things, too. On my first walk, I found a chunk of a wasp’s nest, half-rotted. Recently I found a bird’s nest too, and I wanted to go pick it up, but it was in somebody’s yard and I didn’t want to get yelled at for trespassing. Just today I passed right through a murder of crows, kind of. They were perched in a group on the trees and telephone wires, and their croaking startled me out of my daydreaming to admire them. I’ve seen a lot of things that look like bones that aren’t bones, and one time I saw something that looked like a bone that actually was a bone. 

The one natural thing I don’t see on my walks is humans. Not one in a week. I would have expected to see at least one person walking their dog or something, or just doing work in the yard. I mean, everybody else has to be as restless as I am inside, right? But no, no people to be seen. That’s okay, though. The sidewalk is narrow, I like not having to share it. It also means I can text while I walk and not worry about bumping into someone. Plus, I guess it’s been kind of yucky out weather-wise. By the time I get home from my walks my nose is usually pink and runny from the cold. 

I live with two other people, my dog, my cat, and my two pet rats. That makes seven living things and three living humans. The house is quiet a lot of the time. My brother and I are both teenagers- I’m seventeen, he’s nineteen- and we spend a lot of time in our rooms. My dad is usually working, or out of the house. He likes to go over to his girlfriend's house a lot, or out to the city for the weekend before… Everything happened, and I’ll take care of myself for the evening and the following day or so. Sometimes it’s longer than that. I don’t hear from my brother those days, he makes his own food. Sometimes I’ll be home alone and won’t even realize until I walk past his bedroom and see it’s been empty this whole time. 

My dad’s been away a lot this week, I think. And my brother’s been quiet. I think he’s told me he doesn’t feel well. That’s okay. I can take care of myself well enough and I think I have people online to talk to. My dog barks a lot, that’s kind of like conversation. Plus, I have Animal Crossing, that game where you live on an island with a bunch of little animal people? It’s really cute, I love it. I talk to the animals on Animal Crossing. I don’t mind being alone. 

I’m on a walk, and my fingers and nose are cold and pink. I have an umbrella, but I don’t actually need it. It’s not raining anymore, the wind is just moist and cold. It’s dangling from my wrist. I liked playing tug-of-war with my umbrella against the wind, but the wind won, and my umbrella turned inside out, so I stopped. I’m coming back from the right side of the T. 

There’s lots of evidence of humans. There’s so much litter, pieces of trash that somebody was holding and let go of and now it’s on the ground. I thought I smelled weed before, which is gross, but that means that somebody somewhere was smoking it, somewhere nearby. There’s graffiti on the street signs. 

There’s lots of cars on the road, too. I don’t know where they’re going. Nobody’s really supposed to be going anywhere right now, I think. We’re supposed to be staying home, that’s what I was told. Maybe they’re going to get groceries. You’re allowed to go get groceries. All of them are getting groceries. 

Going to school online is a weird and kind of stressful experience, by the way, did I mention that? I’ve never done anything like homeschooling, I’ve always gone to public school my whole life, ever since I went to the old elementary school that I have to pass through on my walks. I’m used to structure. There’s this bell that drones at the end of every class, and when you hear the bell you get up and shuffle to your next class, forty-two minutes every class period. I’m used to that. Now they’re so far away. The classes, I mean, like, the concept of them. It’s just kind of a vague idea that there’s work I should be doing, now. I’ve been doing okay. I set alarms every forty-two minutes and pretend I’m going to class. 

I still haven’t seen a single human. I’ve been looking into the windshields of the cars as I walk and I still haven’t seen a single one. I don’t know who these cars are trying to fool, you can’t drive a car if there’s nobody in the driver’s seat. That’s impossible. But I haven’t seen a single human. Super-smart cars, maybe. I think I’ve heard about those on the news, right? Sometime before everything happened. They’re sending their cars to get groceries. 

I walk past the cemetery if I want to walk farther than usual. Usually my walk stops me right by the cemetery. I like ghosts and spooky things so I like living so close to a cemetery. It’s a nice cemetery, too. I don’t go in it very much, the only dead person I know wasn’t buried in the cemetery and I don’t want to intrude on anybody who’s grieving their loved one. Walks aren’t that important and I have a different route. I don’t think I would find anybody in the cemetery, but I’m going to go home anyway. I’ve been walking for a long time. 

I think a lot on my walks. My mind wanders. I do it on purpose, actually, I put on my music and let my mind wander while I walk. I like to draw and write stories, and letting my mind wander while I walk is good for inspiration. I’ve been thinking about humans and cars and crows. The crows fly away when I walk near them. I wonder if the humans are like crows and that’s why I can’t see them. Maybe I did something wrong and everybody’s avoiding me. Maybe everyone’s too busy getting groceries to be in their cars. It must be a lot of groceries. 

My dad has been away a lot this week. I want to tell him about the bugs I caught in Animal Crossing. I don't know if I’ve seen him in a while. I thought I said goodbye to him yesterday. Yesterday it was snowing, when I said goodbye. It wasn’t snowing yesterday. I wish he’d get back from whatever he’s doing. I hope he brings me back something from the grocery store. 

My brother hasn’t been feeling well. He wants me to leave him alone, I think. I think he said that, and that’s why he’s not in his room. He doesn’t want me to bother him, I think. He hasn’t been feeling well for a long time. He’s such a complainer. There’s mold in the food he left in his room. 

Online school is so frustrating. I’m really not good at math, and I tried to message my teacher about an exponents question, but he hasn’t been replying to me. I skipped the math problems, I think, and I can’t find the right website we’re supposed to be doing them on. I can’t find the app on my phone I used to text my teacher. I’m so forgetful. I forgot to text him, I think. 

This wouldn't be happening if everything hadn’t happened. If we were in school, I’d be able to raise my hand and ask the teacher in person about my math question. And there would be other students, too. But we have to stay home. Everyone has to stay home. 

I don’t know why we have to stay home. I thought somebody told me. I can’t remember. I know everybody has to stay home. The government said so or something. That’s why I can’t find anybody. Everybody’s at home. 

My dad isn’t answering his phone. I want to know when he’ll be home. He’s not supposed to be out. I forgot my dad’s number, I think. I’m going to walk to the grocery store. It’s getting dark out now, but I think I need to go. I’m going to see what all the fuss is about. Everyone’s at the grocery store, that’s why I can’t find them. 

There’s not much to see in the suburbs of Long Island. The shapes the buildings make are kind of pretty, though. They’re all warped and blackened, like a giant hand smushed them like play-doh. There’s lots of litter. There’s evidence of humans everywhere. The sun is setting behind the ruined buildings and it looks red and burning. It reminds me of something awful. Maybe a movie I watched, I think, about some awful explosion. The sun is too red and it’s scaring me. I’m going to keep walking to the grocery store.

This parking lot is empty and dirty. There’s lots of litter: plastic water bottle casings, old lighters, trampled wet paper bags, turned over shopping cars, shells of cars, the grocery store sign smashed on the ground. I step on the broken glass because it makes a nice sound. It smells like food, I think. The smell of the food is making my throat hurt, I think. There’s smoke rising from the building. They’re cooking, I think. The sun is so red behind the smoke. It looks like fire.

It looks like fire. There’s so much fire. It’s reminding me of something really bad. I’m really scared, something in my brain is really scared. Something happened and I can’t remember. I don’t want to be at the grocery store anymore. I’m walking home now but my legs aren’t feeling very normal. I wish the sun wouldn’t look so red. Everything is red and warm and smoky. It’s only just April and my nose and fingers are supposed to be pink from the cold. 

I’m getting lost, I think. Once I find my way home I can get my dad to hug me so I feel better. I don’t know why I’m crying. Something is making me sad and scared but I can’t remember what it is. Reminds me of a movie, I think. A big scary explosion in a movie. The air smells like smoke. I think I might be upset because of cabin fever. That’s it, I think. 

I think I need to go on more walks. 

[shtfandgo]

New Post has been published on SHTFandGO Survival and Emergency Supplier

New Post has been published on http://www.shtfandgo.com/2017/05/12/medical-aspects-of-camping-and-other-tips-you-need-to-know-about/

Medical Aspects of Camping and Other Tips You Need to Know About

As the weather begins to warm up, it is time to think about outdoor activities we can pursue not only for pleasure but to hone and practice our outdoor survival skills.  Speaking for myself, camping is high on my list of summer activities, including a first-time adventure using a tent.

Most of us plan to hunker down and shelter in place in the event of a disruptive event. That said, if our homes are no longer safe, either due to location or to physical destruction, we must have a plan to evacuate.  In some cases, the answer will be short term camping.

Dr. Joe Alton is here to today to weigh in on what we need to know about the medical aspect of camping plus some other tips to make the overall experience both pleasurable and educational.

Safe Camping Tips for Preppers

School will be out soon and a great way to teach your family survival basics is by taking them camping. The skills needed for successful camping are akin to those required for the activities of daily survival. Once learned, these lessons last a lifetime. There’s no greater gift that you can give young people than the ability to be self-reliant.

Camping trips create bonds and memories that will last a lifetime.  A poorly planned campout, however, can become memorable in a way you don’t want, especially if someone gets injured. Luckily, a few preparations and an evaluation of your party’s limitations will help you enjoy a terrific outing with the people you care about, and maybe impart some skills that would serve them well in dark times.

Start Small

If you haven’t been camping much, don’t start by attempting to hike the Donner Trail. Begin by taking day trips to National Parks or a nearby lake.   Set up your tent and campfire, and see how it goes when you don’t have to stay in the woods overnight.  Once you have that under your belt, start planning your overnight outings.

Whatever type of camping you do, always assess the capabilities and general health of the people in your party. Children and elderly family members will determine the limits of your activities. The more ambitious you are, the more likely the kids and oldsters won’t be able to handle it.  Disappointment and injuries are the end result.

Important Considerations

An important first step to a safe camping trip is knowledge about the weather and terrain you’ll be encountering. Talk with park rangers, consult guidebooks, and check out online sources. Some specific issues you’ll want to know about:

· Temperature Ranges · Rain or Snowfall · Trails and Campsite Facilities · Plant, Insect, or Animal Issues · Availability of Clean Water · How to Get Help in an Emergency

Medical Aspects of Camping

A very common error campers (and survivalists) make is not bringing the right clothing and equipment for the weather and terrain. If you haven’t planned for the environment you’ll be camping in, you have made it your enemy, and believe me, it’s a formidable one.

Although Spring and Fall have the most uncertainty with regards to temperatures and weather, you could encounter storms in any season. Always take enough clothing to allow layering to deal with the unpredictability of the season.

Conditions in high elevations lead to wind chill factors that could cause hypothermia. If the temperature is 50 degrees, but the windchill factor is 30 degrees, you lose heat from your body as if it were below freezing. Be aware that temperatures at night may be surprisingly cold.

In cold weather, you’ll want your family clothed in tightly woven, water-repellent material for protection against the wind. Wool holds body heat better than cotton does. Some synthetic materials work well, also, such as Gore-Tex. Add or remove layers as needed.

If you’re at the seashore or lakefront in summer, your main problem will be heat exhaustion and burns. Have your family members wear sunscreen, as well as hats and light cotton fabrics. Plan your strenuous activities for mornings, when it’s cooler. In any type of weather, keep everyone well-hydrated.  Dehydration causes more rapid deterioration in physical condition in any type of stressful circumstance. Allow a pint of fluids an hour for strenuous activities.

The most important item of clothing is, perhaps, your shoes. If you’ve got the wrong shoes for the outing, you will most likely regret it. If you’re in the woods, high tops that you can fit your pant legs into are most appropriate. If you go with a lighter shoe in hot weather, Vibram soles are your best bet.

Special Tips: Choosing the right clothing isn’t just for weather protection.  If you have the kids wear bright colors, you’ll have an easier time keeping track of their whereabouts. Long sleeves and pants offer added protection against insect bites that can transmit disease, such as Lyme disease caused by ticks.

Location, Location, Location

A real estate agent’s motto is “location, location, location” and it’s also true when it comes to camping.   Scout prospective campsites by looking for broken glass and other garbage that can pose a hazard.  Sadly, you can’t depend on other campers to pick up after themselves.

Look for evidence of animals/insects nearby, such as large droppings or wasp nests/bee hives.    Advise the children to stay away from any animals, even the cute little fuzzy ones. If there are berry bushes nearby, you can bet it’s on the menu for bears. Despite this, things that birds and animals can eat aren’t always safe for humans.

Learn to identify the plants in your environment that should be avoided. This especially includes poison ivy, oak, and sumac.  Show your kids pictures of the plants so that they can steer clear of them. The old adage is “leaves of three, let it be”. Fels-Naptha soap is especially effective in removing toxic resin from skin and clothes if you suspect exposure.

Build your fire in established fire pits and away from dry brush. In drought conditions, consider using a portable stove instead.  Children are fascinated by fires, so watch them closely or you’ll be dealing with burn injuries. Food (especially cooked food) should be hung in trees in such a way that animals can’t access it. Animals are drawn to food odors, so use resealable plastic containers.

If you camp near a water source, realize that even the clearest mountain stream may harbor parasites that cause diarrheal disease and dehydration.  Water sterilization is basic to any outdoor outing.  There are iodine tablets that serve this purpose, and portable filters like the “Lifestraw™” which are light and effective.  Although time-consuming, boiling local water is a good idea to avoid trouble.

Get Your Bearings

Few people can look back to their childhood and not remember a time when they lost their bearings. Your kids should always be aware of landmarks near the camp or on trails.  A great skill to teach the youngsters is how to use a compass; make sure they have one on them at all times.

A great item to give each child (and adult) is a loud whistle that they can blow if you get separated.  Three blasts are the universal signal for “help!” If lost, kids should stay put in a secure spot.  Of course, if you have cell phone service where you are, consider that option as well.

Bug Bites

Even kids in protective clothing can still wind up with insect bites.  Important supplies to carry are antihistamines like Benadryl, sting relief pads, and calamine lotion to deal with allergic reactions.  Asking your doctor for a prescription “Epi-Pen” is a good idea, as they’re meant to be used by the average person. They’re effective for severe reactions to toxins from insect bites or poison ivy.

Citronella-based products are helpful to repel insects; put it on clothing instead of skin (absorbs too easily) whenever possible. Repellents containing DEET also can be used, but not on children less than 2 years old.

Don’t forget to inspect daily for ticks or the bulls-eye pattern rash you might see in Lyme disease. I mean it when I say daily: If you remove the tick in the first 24 hours, you will rarely contract the disease.

Of course, you’ll need a medical kit as part of your supplies. Consider some of the items in our compact, lightweight personal IFAK kit, specifically meant to deal with mishaps on the trail. You might have your own favorite items to bring with you; if so, feel free to post them in the comments section below.

The Final Word

Now that I live adjacent to the forest, I want to get a tent.  The plan is to get something easy to set up because, after all, I am not a young as I used to be and want to save my energy for things like hiking and doing a bit of wood chopping.  Then, as Joe suggests, I plan to camp in my own one-acre backyard before venturing further.

One thing is certain, it is a lot more fun to practice survival skills when you couple the experience with a family adventure!

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