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vateacancameos · 3 years

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I Won't Let You Let Me Down So Easily

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Fandom: The Locked Tomb Trilogy Pairing: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Post-Gideon the Ninth, Post-Harrow the Ninth, Pre-Slash, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, they're working on the lovers part, POV Gideon Nav, Gideon watches Harrow Word Count: 1804 Part 2 of the Watching series (read Part 1 here)

For all of her short years of life, Gideon Nav has never wanted anything more than to ignore the Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House. To pretend she doesn’t exist. Unfortunately for Gideon—and the entirety of the Ninth—Harrowhark Nonagesimus has made that impossible from day one. She’s always there, one step away from Gideon, not looking at her, but making her own presence known, making sure she’s seen. That shrill, commanding tone is there from the moment she says her first word. Bones follow her every command, and she’s a tiny tyrant in black and wearing a painted mask. Where she is, skeletons follow, and Gideon is left behind, bloodied and beaten on the floor.

She never asked for this. She’s never wanted to be the bane of everyone’s existence. In fact, she tries her hardest to get away, time and time and time and time again. But Harrow demands an audience, and with most of the House being blinded from old age, Gideon is the one forced to watch. So she watches. Mostly, she watches her back, but over time, she watches just to see. What she’s looking for, she’s not sure.

She’s never wanted this, so why does a part of her now ask for it?

***

(read the rest under the cut)

***

Somehow Gideon isn’t surprised that even in the afterlife, she’s forced to watch Harrow. The Dark Mistress of Drearburh is a necromancer after all. If Gideon couldn’t get away from her during any of her eighty-seven escape attempts in life, it’s doubtful a little something like lacking a body would stop Harrow from forcing her to stay.

The really annoying part is that this time, Gideon actually does want to watch, but she’s got less a front-row seat and more like she’s using binoculars turned backwards so the thing she’s looking at is tiny and the lenses are smudged and she’s got cotton stuffed in her ears. She’s grateful for that when Ianthe tries her hand (haha, hand) at flirting with Harrow—she’s never felt such intense second-hand embarrassment in her life—but seeing what’s happening on The Mithraeum would be rather helpful right now.

Especially considering she isn’t allowed to do her job (protecting) thanks to one pointy-faced emo chick performing an at-home lobotomy with only a sociopathic princess to watch over her. Oh yeah, pre-surgery, Gideon could watch everything just fine. Why is it always that she’s forced to watch when she doesn’t want to, and she can’t watch when she does want to? She’s more than a little ticked by that.

No one ever asks her what she wants.

***

You know what’s really fucking annoying? Dying for your best frenemy so she can become the thing she’s wanted to become since she was four, then getting not only walled up in a tiny corner of Prissy McBitchFace’s brain, not only forced to see how awkward God is during tea time, not only stuck watching Harrow fumble her training and social interaction, but ALSO, unable to make her fucking necromancer work out or learn one single thing about a sword.

IT’S A FUCKING POMMEL, HARROWHARK. You can learn all the bones of the body by age two and a half, but you can’t learn the very few parts of a fucking sword? Sigh.

She’s being willfully ignorant on purpose. Gideon knows it.

***

You know what’s really fucking sad? Watching Harrowhark unable to function. Not just in her usual disconnected with reality and living in her special world where she’s the queen and everyone bows to her way. No, Harrow is … not Harrow. She’s barely human now (not that she was ever particularly human, more like a pointy, annoying bat), she’s paranoid (granted, someone is trying to kill her on the daily), she’s not sleeping, there are more wards in her tiny room than in all of the Ninth House, and she’s trying to … make soup?

It’s embarrassing to watch, and once again, Gideon is grateful her view is fuzzy and distant. Except that since she only gets a far-off snapshot of events a few times a day, she has lots of time to think and contemplate. And the more she thinks about it, the worse she feels. It’s sad, Harrow’s life is. And not in a oh she’s such a dork, how sad way, but more in a way that hurts Gideon’s heart, if Gideon had a heart still, which she guesses she doesn’t, not properly.

But still, she aches for Harrow. She wants to do her job, to be the big bad protector, but someone decided to be a selfish jerk and not let Gideon do the one thing she literally died to do.

Some people suck.

***

Swear to John (who’d’ve thought God’s name would be John), Gideon is really fucking tired of watching. At least when she was forced to watch Harrow in the past(life), she had a sword in her hands and a cocky smile on her face. Oh, what she’d give to go back to being able to watch and do, rather than watch and … watch, but not really watch, because time moves funny for her and it sounds like everyone is talking under water and faces are distorted (oh, no, wait, Ianthe’s face is always like that, nm).

She needs to be able to do again. She needs to force her dumb necromancer to get some sleep and then some exercise and then some brain surgery, in that order (what? squats are important). And then maybe learn the parts of the sword. SERIOUSLY, HARROW, HOW HARD IS POMMEL?

She wishes she had Harrow’s dumb army of constructs to fight. Even without a body, she has excess energy to get rid of and– HOLY SHIT. A CONSTRUCT JUST BURST OUT OF THE SKINNY/BUFF LYCTOR’S abdomen.

Okay, Harrow. You win this round.

***

Sleep does not help Harrowhark’s mood. She’s less of a zombie, sure, but she’s still a bit bananas. Watching her cut off Ianthe’s arm is pretty great, though (less great is watching her climb on top of Princess Bitch to do it). And the sex thing with God and two of the saints is … well, the jury is still out on that one. She actually got quite an eyeful of that scene. Perhaps all the wine allowed Gideon more freedom to move about in her necro’s brain.

None of that shocks her like watching Harrow save the lyctor whose been out to kill her for months. Gideon would definitely save him if she were in Harrow’s shoes (except she’d never be in those shoes because, one, they’re too small for her, and two, SHE KNOWS HOW TO USE A FUCKING SWORD). But even after everything that happened at Canaan House, and all that she’s seen of the disaster that is Harrow’s current life, watching Harrow save the man she’s absolutely bloody terrified of is … staggering.

Gideon’s not sure what to do with this information. Harrow with a normal human conscious is not something she thought she’d ever see. It’s not the Harrow she knew for seventeen years. It’s not the girl she fought tooth and nail with almost all of her life. It’s not the tiny mad genius who broke into the Tomb just to say she could. It’s not the tyrant who puppeteered her dead parents’ bodies for seven years for a power trip. It’s not the necromancer who longed for nothing more than to become a lyctor, even at every other person around hers expense.

It’s not the bone magician who performed possibly deadly surgery on her own brain rather than share soul space with the woman who died for her.

And if Harrow’s actions now say she’s not those things, then what else doesn’t Gideon know about her?

***

For once, Gideon is the watchee instead of the watcher.

Leave it to Sextus to be the one to see her.

***

Gideon takes it all back. She’d rather spend a myriad watching helplessly and foggily as her necromancer bumbles through life because she refuses to accept help in becoming a real lyctor. She’d love to go back to watching her make soup and avoid kisses with Tridentarius The Lesser and grimace at tea and cut her hair every three days and fuck up Gideon’s beloved two-hander by covering it in bone glue.

Because the alternative, of Harrow just up and leaving her body, which has just come to pass, is untenable. It’s wrong. Not just Gideon’s eyes and her WTF expression on Harrow’s face, but also the pure lack of Harrow in the room. For such a tiny little witch, she takes up a lot of space. She always has. It’s why Gideon had watched her their whole lives. Harrow would enter a room, and her presence would draw Gideon like a paperclip to a magnet. It was hateful, but it was comfortable, a known entity.

But Harrow being gone is so wrong.

Luckily, there are plenty of bug-human-acid-monster things that hold her attention for a time. That, and trying to figure out how to work Harrow’s limp noodle arms so that she can use a sword that weighs about the same as she currently does. As Gideon hacks and kicks and watches Harrow’s extremities regrow (trippy), she avoids thinking about why Harrow has left her. She fights Princess Peach and avoids thinking. She bickers (and maybe falls just a tiny bit in love) with Ianthe Tridentarius and avoids thinking. She listens to confessions twenty years in coming and avoids thinking. She finds her (very fucked up) family and avoids thinking. She (maybe?) befriends the lyctor who tried for nine months to kill her necromancer (except its actually not the lyctor anymore and she’s definitely going to have to learn more about that at some point when she’s no longer fighting for her [lyctor’s] life) and avoids thinking.

She’s going to have to think again at some point, but she’ll avoid it as long as she’s able.

***

When Gideon finally escapes and gets somewhere safe, she has time to watch again, and she hates it. She watches Harrow’s face in the mirror. She wills her necromancer to come back. She begs Harrow to come back. She paints the best skull she’s ever painted on Harrow’s face. She puts on the rust-black robes. She stares at the mirror and tries to find Harrow in the frown lines and pointy chin. But she’s not there, and it looks wrong. Gideon screams and punches the mirror. The broken flesh repairs instantly. She hates that. She needs the pain the last.

She has always associated pain with Harrow. The physical pain of their fights. The emotional pain of being unloved. If the pain is no longer there, does that mean Harrow is gone for good?

Gideon Nav’s eyes sting, and she watches the paint melt off Harrow’s face.

#locked tomb trilogy #fanfic #meagan writes #griddlehark #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth

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sikereviewdotcom · 4 years

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wilfred (2011) - season 1 ep1 “happiness” review

ok so today were reviewing fucking "wilfred" basically its a story about a depressed guy who tried to kill himself but he failed because hes a pushover in life and even suicide is mocking him yea jk actually his sis prescribed him placebo so the meds he used in his suicide attempt were useless yada yada

then he sees his neighbours (on who he tots have the hots for) dog as a man and hes like lol wtf why is there a furry standing in my yard? im not into dogplay dudette, please dont do this to me ah-

unfortunately for him the chick, on the next day asks to take care of her dog meanwhile because idk shit happens in her house? and she has to work? yea something like that so anyway he accepts because hes into her and out of it aswell more out of it than anything tho

our man, ryan is pretty disturbed but it happens anyway he has NO control over his life so why would he have control on a dog fursuit wearing 40 yo man? yea exactly wouldnt make sense

wilfred enters his house and smoke a damn bong thats right, a very efficient way to introduce what kind of character were up against see, jason gann has the perfect face for such character looking all dirty in that suit with a big ass black painted dog nose you gotta think "that dawgs up to no good" and youd be damn right keep reading to discover why so basically nm happens in this episode if it isnt the setting of all the shit because well ryan has a lot of issues and its gonna get worse you cant believe this dog is gonna make things better for ryan not really hes just scamming the loser with cheap tricks and drugs

btw after (trying) to vape or w/e with wilfred, the man falls asleep, wakes up because his sis whos a bitch, remember her

its important to spot whos a bitch in each show ill be reviewing its pretty easy to balance whos the antagonist and who isnt although it often is much more complexe than that which is why im here making it all very easy and very interesting, aside from lost cases like the magic school bus i cant make that shit any worse nor TOO better like i have limited power my reviews are sike but some shows are just nah back to our whipped cream: ryans depression: he is jobless ok? so his sis is mad that he doesnt make the effort to come work and do what he has to also he used to be a lawyer btw because his father wanted him to be and then his father died and he lost his job and he hated being a lawyer so w/e but he also seemingly lost all reasons to live and redacted more than one suicide letter so im not sure what to think about it he was really eager to die yknow his sis couldnt care less tho its like "yo stop ruining my image im trynna get you a job in my hospital fuckface" yea see that why shes an inconsiderate bitch

so instead of going to work because of wilfred, ryan takes him for a while btw that vermin also tries to get elijah (the actor playing ryan is elijah wood obvs btw so this series already gets 5 points to begin with i dont make the rules) to throw a tennis ball and dont forget this ball ok? its gonna come back and start a whole drama its the beginning of our adventure a ball

next theyre in a restauration thing eating chips and drinking a beer together dog and his friend then the waitress comes and

happens the tiddies eating, it almost one fucking minute im sure we could all feel the embarassement of having your animal rubbing its balls and penis against your friend whos over for the nights leg in the middle of spring and youre just trying to get it back but wow the hormones are hitting it hard its like a cleaning robot vibrating on a grandma whos cardiacs chest and you trynna take that little asshole away but for some reason its rubbed in olive oil so not only does it reeks of olive, its also slippery as heck and you can see your grandma spasmming on her soon-to-be deathbed, she has spasms for god sake no the robot no someone stop it from stimulating the old ladys torso ah shit marguerite died after drowning in her drooling

not even died of an heart attack nah, it was such a messy death she suffered so much no one could do anything its like the robot was sentient yknow and well same goes for wilfred hes making it on purpose but uses the excuse : he likes the boobs it nothing personal, ryan

w/e they leave after paying (not for the side tits tho, it was a freebie for dogs) after that shit happens (i wont spoil you EVERYTHING, im just painting a pic here ok?) at this point you could wonder "is wilfred being a dick on purpose or its just about said instincts? how much percentage of his behavior is actually dog and how much is ryans mind (the guy is deranged there is no denying that but how much? )) whats sure is that his owner likes her dog vm and hes maining that chick

good for him? but it also happens that before that, elijah just threw the ball above the gate and into his much less friendly neighbour because he was sick of the dog asking to throw it and so yea, there is a tension between ryan and wilfred not any kind of tension, exactly the kind of elija x reader fanfic i wanted to read except pov: im a canine furry and i smoke weed on a daily basis and im a jackass

theyre almost breaking up someone does something about it i was seriously getting into it wow oh no fuck look at me tearing one or two here

rip their new born bromance? or... is it all there is to it? well see no obviously its the problem we were waiting for because when our fella enters back home and idk whatever else happens its night and his sister comes home and she goes all "lol actually i gave you placebo itd be dangerous otherwise you numbfuck" but shes quickly muted once our man notices his dog friend in his yard... its time for a reunion a heart to heart conversation to proceed so he has to ditch his sis which he casually does bros before hoes

its again about the ball which HE WILL go and fetch by passing over the fence to get in neighbours yard but damn it cant be just that? wouldnt it make a lame crappy story? we need some actions, we got the tits, the beer, no job, delinquency has no limit so fuck it says the dog as he smashes the window and enters the bikers house because he SMELLS (like he smells the shit streaks you have on your pants) the weed, ryan is like "no fuck bro no shit fuck ah-" then sees the damn weed which they steal ok? hes really a pushover he has not got the right idea of stopping being one because thats what his new friends supposed to be here for yknow trynna get his loser into a winner, that lil camper gotta level up his game, go get into the business of life barging in kicking the door to enter, no shame nor hesitation were trying to make him STEP UP for HIMSELF but guess what? ill tell you later or itd be a spoil in a spoil surely a bad paradoxal medium w/e business going on blablabla theyre up to no good thats for sure as sure as how much ryans actually enjoy this the mans into this pee slash poop affair:

spoiler alert: he does it and

im just quoting him here : he never felt more alive nor glad to be so i guess thats whats life about shitting in peoples affair, stealing weed plants and quitting your job on your first day (you havent showed up tho so w/e you never really worked in that place no one knows you its all good you can get back in that place looking innocent and smiling with your broken ribs "yea nah i never had a job here and ditched yall huh" thats foxy of him kinda but not really since he had no intention back then to do anything for himself it was all strings pulled by a fucking dog hilarious really im having a kick haha no

so what next? theyre best friends? man and dog, a wonderful friendship happens he has no more family to support him but HE HAS A DOG guys he was so into it im feeling sorry for this hobot-to-be schizophrenic man

i wont spoil you but trust me when i say not to trust a furry who eats tits on your first date

in conclusion: it was a pretty decent first episode ill update my final thoughts on the first season once im done watching it but so far its recommandable the camera work is pretty cool like its not just thoughtless filming we actually have a nice feel to it, the setting of the series is esthetically pleasing you get nice colors and it aint boring, its not like a FRIENDS episode yknow? dawg i dislike how boring it looks filming wise for start but damn i aint reviewing FRIENDS rn so next, the comedy? after all its a comedy genre series not a drama, idk if id review an actual depressive show on here thatd bum the vibe out ok? i know im making all my revs awesome w/e it is that i choose to rate and comment but still im serving you a plate of my finest sheez not any fizzle in the mizzle ok?

anyway yea the humor aint bad, i havent laughed my ass of but i did find it amusing to watch the jokes may actually kick in in the second episode ill have to update this rev alright? just hang on to your balls peeps this fam will serve in due time

rating: 7,5/10 scenery/camera work 7/10 comedy 8/10 interest/entertaining points total: 7,5/10 for a first episode is fine enough to be recommanded, like a "give it a chance" sorta case yknow isnt the most hilarious show youll watch but its fine especially if youre into homoromantic tension between a furry and elijah wood

tg, out

#wilfred #review #series review #wilfred review #wilfred 2011 #furry #sike reviews

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brandonnatali · 4 years

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UMW Toyota teases ‘Supra Improvement’ – 2021 GR Supra with 47 hp more, 0-100 in 4.1s coming soon?

UMW Toyota Motor (UMWT) has uploaded a teaser video for the Toyota GR Supra. The video, which is pasted above, comes with the caption “Keep your foot on the brakes Toyota fans. The Supra is warming up its engine for a huge surprise.” The video’s title is “Supra Improvement Teaser Video”, which is self-explanatory.

Revealed in January 2019 after what felt like a lifetime of teasing, the A90 Supra launched with a BMW-sourced 3.0 litre straight-six with 340 PS (335 hp) from 5,000 to 6,500 rpm and 500 Nm of torque from 1,600 to 4,500 rpm. Paired to an eight-speed ZF automatic transmission sending drive to the rear wheels, it’s good for 0-100 km/h in 4.3 seconds. The A90 was launched in Malaysia in September 2019.

In February 2020, Toyota debuted the 2021 Toyota GR Supra in the US, with more power, a new 2.0L four-cylinder engine option, some chassis tweaks, extra equipment and a new special edition model. Power has gone up by 47 hp to 382 hp, now made higher up the rev range from 5,800 to 6,500 rpm, representing a 14% increase.

These numbers come as a result of a new dual-branch exhaust manifold, and in spite of a reduced compression ratio of 10.2:1 instead of 11:1, the latter due to a new piston design. With the power bump, the 0-60 mph (0-96 km/h) sprint time is slashed from 4.1 to 3.9 seconds. 0-60 mph in 3.9s should translate to 0-100 km/h in 4.1s, which the teaser video flashes. That would be an 0.2s improvement over the launch A90.

Power aside, the latest A90 gets a number of revisions to its suspension, including new aluminium front bracing to increase lateral rigidity, uprated front and rear bump stops and retuned dampers. The electric power steering, adaptive damper system, stability control and active rear differential have also been reprogrammed in concert with the hardware changes, making the car more stable through quick transitions, Toyota says.

The US-market 2021 GR Supra can now be had with the Safety and Technology Package, which adds on all-speed adaptive cruise control, blind spot monitoring, rear cross traffic alert, parking sensors with emergency braking, navigation, a 12-speaker JBL sound system, wireless Apple CarPlay and remote connectivity and emergency services. All models get the larger 8.8-inch centre display, in place of the previous standard-fit 6.5-inch item.

GALLERY: 2021 Toyota GR Supra, US-market GALLERY: 2020 Toyota GR Supra in Malaysia

The post UMW Toyota teases ‘Supra Improvement’ – 2021 GR Supra with 47 hp more, 0-100 in 4.1s coming soon? appeared first on Paul Tan's Automotive News.

UMW Toyota teases ‘Supra Improvement’ – 2021 GR Supra with 47 hp more, 0-100 in 4.1s coming soon? published first on https://kwsseuren.tumblr.com/

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joshuajacksonlyblog · 4 years

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Bitcoin Halving Could Prompt Miners to Force-Sell, Analyst Fears

The upcoming bitcoin halving event could prompt a new wave of panic-selling by miners, says a pseudonymous analyst. Some traders may manipulate bitcoin to bootstrap a bullish narrative. Popular bullish models are flawed. Bitcoin Halving has become an eye-candy for a majority of bulls in the cryptocurrency market. The event will make bitcoin scarcer by algorithmically slashing its daily production rate from 1,800 BTC to 900 BTC. People believe a lesser supply would inflate bitcoin’s prices in the long run, with a famous model even predicting that it would reach $100,000 by 2021. But an analyst operating under the pseudonym ‘Alex’ believes bulls are making blusterous price predictions about bitcoin, arguing that the cryptocurrency could continue plunging further into the year as inefficient miners force-sell their holdings. “Bitcoin is a relatively easy market to manipulate that trades mostly on sentiment & momentum. The few will be incentivized to attempt to move prices to bootstrap a bullish narrative,” wrote Alex. “The last key risk is forced selling by inefficient miners once the halving hits. This is very real.” Bitcoin Under Selling Pressure Miners assemble and operate specially-designed rigs that verify and add transactions to the Bitcoin blockchain. In return, they receive rewards in the form of bitcoin tokens. Following the next halving, miners will be putting the same amount of operational costs to run their rigs, but their probability of earning back their returns will reduce. That would leave inefficient miners with two choices: Either they should keep mining at a monetary loss or close down their rigs altogether. The only way out would be to upgrade the rigs: leave the old Dragonmint T16 and Antminer S9 machines for upcoming 5 and 3 NM miners featuring higher processing speeds, said Jeffery Barroga of crypto marketplace Paxful, adding: “Hobbyist miners and small players might find that whatever BTC they gain is insufficient to pay for the overhead costs of running their rigs.” BTC Mining Profitability heading downwards since mid-2019 | Source: Blockchain.com Most of the small miners are already shutting down, prove the dwindling hash rate, which represents the amount of computing power devoted to run the Bitcoin blockchain. And as bitcoin’s dollar-focused price plunged by more than 50 percent in mid-March, it slashed miners’ profitability in sync. “Given the Black Thursday massacre, most inefficient miners may have already puked. I will have more clarity on this once the halving approaches,” wrote Alex. Gold a Better Indicator The analyst suggested that gold – not popular prediction models – are better price indicators for bitcoin. The yellow metal reacts accurately to the global macroeconomic narratives and its close resemblance to bitcoin’s features could give more reliable clues for the cryptocurrency. “Bitcoin should go up yet it still has to prove itself,” said Alex. Photo by Chris Liverani on Unsplash from Cryptocracken Tumblr https://ift.tt/3eGz3gx via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Cryptocracken Tumblr

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brettzjacksonblog · 4 years

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Bitcoin Halving Could Prompt Miners to Force-Sell, Analyst Fears

#IFTTT #CryptoCracken SMFeed

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michaelbennettcrypto · 4 years

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Bitcoin Halving Could Prompt Miners to Force-Sell, Analyst Fears

#IFTTT #Cryptocracken WP

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halloweeneveryday · 7 years

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Skinwalkers

I had never heard of the term "skinwalker"before I arrived in New Mexico. I was sent to NM for work, I spent around two months there before heading back to Nebraska for a new assignment. I kept to myself, never really spent time around the area. Occasionally I would hear the men working with me complain about noises at night keeping them awake. I didn't care for scary stories and didn't care about what was outside as long as it didn't mess with my sleep. The men seemed to enjoy the creepy stories from the locals and would kill time talking about what they heard that day.

At first, it all was all fun, the men would talk about paranormal sightings, not having lived through anything like that made it intriguing. However it wasn't until one of them didn't show up for work that made the rest of the team start taking the stories a little more seriously. One of the men was found hiding in his trailer, I didn't see him personally but the team was told that he would be sent to a nearby hospital. One of the guys that found him told us that he was huddled up in a small corner mumbling to himself over and over, "Hooves, eyes, it laughed." I felt bad for the guy, the stress from work was probably getting to him in my opinion however the other men started to get worked up. One night, I went over to a local bar I found three other guys talking to the bartender about the possibility of something paranormal happening back at camp. The bartender wasn't too happy about the guys bringing up folklore they knew nothing about and occasionally left to serve others, trying his best to ignore the three men.

One of the men started talking about skinwalkers while the rest listened closely. They had all had a few drinks in them and were getting pretty loud, everyone at the bar started to look at them annoyed at how obnoxious they were acting. I was looking around thinking how stupid the men were looking when I noticed an older man dressed in farmer's attire with some Native American print on who was also listening closely. The man looked angry and approached the group very slowly before standing behind them not saying a word. One of the men from my team looked at him and asked him what he wanted, the old man didn't respond and just stared at him. I stood up from my table, hoping that none of the drunks would be dumb enough to start a fight with an old man. The old man stood there looking at them while the men started taunting him. Eventually the three got bored and turned their back on him. The subject of skinwalkers came up again which is when the old man finally spoke.

"Stop talking about something you know nothing about."

The men turned around and stood up, I moved closer in hopes that they would see me and back off from the old man. The old man stood his ground and told them to not be disrespectful and to not meddle in things that were past their understanding. The men got irritated and right as one was about to step closer to the old man, I finally butted in. Being somewhat their superior, the three men finally left, leaving me and the old man behind shaking our heads. I apologized and told him that they were just a bunch of immature kids that didn't know how to handle their alcohol when the old man told me to be careful. He said that the locals didn't talk about that subject and that talking about them would only bring unwanted attention. Not wanting to be rude, I only nodded and told the old man I'd keep an eye out on my team.

I returned to camp and saw one of the men from the bar asleep on a chair in front of his trailer holding a beer. I didn't care to leave him out there, I went straight to bed. It must have been around three in the morning when I woke up to the sound of men outside yelling. I got up and walked out still somewhat half asleep to find everyone standing around something. I walked up only to become overwhelmed by a rotting stench and the horrific sight of the man who was asleep dead with his throat slashed. He had taken his life with a shard of the broken beer bottle, I walked away sick to my stomach while everyone stayed behind. I walked up a small path feeling sick and puked, when I was finished and was about to walk back I heard something behind me. When I turned around, the darkness didn't allow me to get a good look up ahead but I was able to make out someone standing not too far from me. I thought it was perhaps one of the men who also had to excuse themselves from the crowd however the person up ahead was moving funny.

I called out for the person to identify himself however heard no immediate response. The person was walking closer very slowly and his body was jerking funny. He looked like a child learning how to walk. I called out once again for the person to identify himself only this time, there was a response. The voice of the person sent chills up my spine, the voice sounded inhuman yet tried to sound as normal as possible. The body was twitching which is what really frightened me, I started to step back still deciding what to do when it spoke again. The words didn't make sense and I couldn't understand what he was trying to say. It wasn't until he walked up and the moonlight hit his face when I realized it wasn't a him but an it. The body was a mesh of what had been Carl the man who I had just seen dead moments ago and something goat like. The skin looked stretched out and the face looked like a mask, its legs looked broken and the feet ... they weren't feet, they were hooves.

I ran out of there quick looking back in hopes that it wasn't following me; everyone was so focused on the body that they didn't notice me running into my trailer. I made a call to the local sheriff who was already on his way after the call for Carl's death was made. I sat in my trailer not knowing what to think or say or do; I waited until the sheriff arrived before going out.

After Carl's death, a huge lawsuit was filed against our company for not finishing the job. However, no one would go back to work after a few more sightings of something inhuman emerged. I was one of the first men who was packed up and ready to go. I visited the local bar one last time in hopes of finding the old man I had spoken to before. I found him in his same spot sitting and drinking. Before I even said another word he started to speak.

"I warned them, can't go around talking about stuff like that and not expect anything to happen."

I didn't say anything and asked him what I wanted to ask, "Did he really take his own life or was it ... a skinwalker?"

The old man looked up and said in a very serious tone, "Don't talk about them ... the talk will attract their attention..."

He got up and left without saying another word. That was the last time I ever said the word out loud...

Source: http://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/news/a48569/scary-stories/

#scary spooky newmexico skinwalkers folklore

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365runesofthesystem · 7 years

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Longest Post of NM.

So this is such a huge chunk of very little parts of the story but you know what? Prompto deserves it all so whatever! XD

I made twelve pages about this guys. I have no regrets.

But super long post. Be warned. Read it on AO3.

Enjoy.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV / Relationships: Prompto&Gladio, Noctis/Prompto

Tags: Long Post, Gladdy Daddy, Ignis Mama, Self-Esteem Issues, Noct Fixes It, Comfort, Hurt Was Last Time, I Don’t Know What to Tag.

Chapter Twenty-Four: In Listening, There’s Deeper Bonds.

“You need to fix this.”

They had made their way to Lestallum, taking time off hunting and camping as their teamwork slowly fell apart. Once they had made it to the city, Gladio had dragged Prompto out to do the shopping, leaving Noct to go with Ignis and find them a room.

Ignis handed Noct a key, holding out another one for him to see.

“Gladio and I will be sharing a room tonight and you and Prompto will get the other one.”

Noct frowned.

“I highly doubt that is going to work Specs. Prompto can’t stand to be in the same room as me, much less share a hotel.”

Ignis jabbed at him, giving him a pointed look.

“You better make it work Noctis. This is getting out of hand. You two had a fight and you need to make up. I understand that Prompto is at fault but you are not without blame either. You handled it horribly.”

Noct clenched his hand around the key, remembering the fight.

“It’s not my fault he was being so stupid about it.”

Ignis sighed, crossing his arms.

“No but it was your fault that you didn’t explain yourself.”

Noct sighed, looking away from Ignis and rubbing the back of his head.

“I guess I should have been a bit more tactful…”

“Of course you should have. Not only did you disregard his perspective, you also threw out his reasoning, insulted his priorities, labeled his feelings are wrong, threw out his strength and even went so far as to basically say he had no business with coming on this trip.”

Noct frowned.

“Specs, I don’t even think I was talking long enough to take that many jabs at him.”

Ignis sighed, fixing his glasses and giving Noct an exasperated look.

“Noct, you know as well as both me and Gladio how important and special Prompto is. But please understand Prompto’s view. We all know the obvious lack of self-esteem the boy has. When the little he has built up - though misplaced - is instantly challenged, by one of the most important people in his life no less, how do you think he would respond?”

Noct thought for a moment, realized how it showed in the fight, and instantly paled. He looked at Ignis in horror.

“That’s not what I was talking about though!”

Ignis gave him a small smile.

“Of course not. But Prompto probably took it as that. Because you didn’t explain yourself. You let your anger take control and said something that came out wrong.”

Noct sighed.

“We’re not high school girls; we’re grown men here.”

Ignis gave him a small pat, squeezing his shoulder in support.

“No, you two are not in high school anymore. But Prompto has been fighting since that time; probably longer than that. I think it’s time you gave him credit for that Noct.”

“Stop pouting already.”

“I am not pouting.”

“Come on, kid. You’re not fooling anyone with that face.”

Prompto didn’t say anything, leaning against the stall as Gladio bartered with the salesman for vegetables. He shot another photo of the marketplace, frowning as he looked at the picture.

“Says you.”

Gladio glanced back as the man bagged the goods, giving him a smirk.

“Says anyone. And aren’t you a little old to be getting depressed about a little fight?”

He moved on, going for the meat, Prompto trailing behind him.

“I am not depressed.”

Gladio rolled his eyes, gave the butcher his order and turned to Prompto.

“You know he didn’t mean it right?”

“You say that.”

Gladio took the meat and paid the man, handing the bag to Prompto. He stopped as he gave it, giving Prompto a small smile.

“I know it, kid. And you do too.”

Prompto huffed, taking the bag and moving to the dairy, letting Gladio follow him. He ordered, letting Gladio pay before they moved on, looking at the other things for sale.

Gladio let the silence last for a beat before trying again.

“He probably would have explained if you just asked.”

Prompto sulked, his mouth in full pout, looking at one of the bands that someone was selling before sighing and moving on.

“That wasn’t exactly the problem.”

Gladio nodded, letting him lead them down passed more shops. They stopped at the fountain, Gladio taking the shopping bags so Prompto could take a few shots. He let him work, giving him more time before speaking.

“Then what is?”

Prompto frowned at his camera.

“Nothing.”

Gladio sighed.

“Come on kid. Give me something to work with. You two can’t be playing this game of hide-away-our-feelings with each other. It’s getting a bit ridiculous.”

Prompto scowled, staring at the fountain instead of Gladio.

“No one asked you guys to watch.”

“Don’t be that way kid. We’re just worried. You can’t blame us old guys for getting a little concerned when the stupidly carefree bachelors stop being so carefree but keep on being stupid.”

Prompto gave him a wry smile.

“Thanks.”

Gladio shrugged, walking towards the fountain and sitting down, letting the bags drop to the ground next to him. Prompto watched him a second before following suit, sitting down and letting his legs stretch out in front of him.

They sat in silence, watching the people pass by, Gladio letting Prompto think before he said anything else.

“Look kid. We all know how much and hard you fight to keep up. You train more, are more determined, keep your focus way better, don’t give yourself any room for failure. You are improving well and can pretty much handle yourself in situations. But let’s face it: you weren’t built to be a Crownsguard Prompto. That’s not what the training me and Cor put you through was for.”

He saw Prompto open his mouth to protest; waved a hand to stop it.

“Don’t start all that. We trained you in self defense Prompto. Not exactly extreme training. It’s not meant to help you protect someone else. And it wasn’t meant for you to throw yourself into the fray every time the princess wanted to be reckless. It definitely wasn’t so you could try to get yourself killed at every opportunity.

I get that you want to protect Noct and all but he is an adult and can handle himself well enough in a fight. And both me and Ignis are plenty capable of getting him out of sticky situations: that’s our whole job.

Noct didn’t ask you to come along so you could die for him Prompto. He definitely didn’t ask you to come along so you could get hurt protecting him, much less seriously injured.

The princess wasn’t the greatest at explaining his thoughts but you know him well enough; you know he’s an idiot when it comes to sharing feelings. I would just give him the time to actually explain what he meant.”

Gladio glanced to his side, seeing Prompto sigh and slouch.

“What if I don’t want to know what he meant?”

Gladio sighed, letting the air slowly go as he looked up.

The sun was setting, the air slowly getting cooler as the marketplace began to die, vendors closing shop and people making their way home and to dinner.

He stood and clasped Prompto on the shoulder, giving him a small shake before grabbing the bags and heading to the hotel.

Prompto was slow to follow, sighing as Gladio began to walk away.

“Right.”

Dinner was surprisingly quiet, Ignis giving Noct a look while Gladio kept glancing at Prompto.

He tried his hardest to ignore him, focusing on eating his food and not staring at how Noct dumped his vegetables onto Gladio’s plate before setting it down and walking out to go to their room.

Prompto let out a sigh he didn’t notice he had been holding in.

Gladio nudged him.

“Kid, don’t make us kick you out alright?”

Prompto sighed, finished eating and handed over his plate, reluctantly letting Gladio push him out of the room as Ignis threw a “Good night” over his shoulder.

Gladio leaned against the frame of the door and watched Prompto walk over, giving him pointed looks the whole way.

Prompto reached for the door when Gladio stopped him.

“Try not to kill the princess okay? I really would like to get some sleep.”

Prompto threw a sad smile and entered.

Noct’s clothes were on the bed, his bag emptied on one side. His bag was left on the other side, like Ignis had simply dropped it off for him. Prompto heard the shower running, the steam starting to seep out into the room from under the bathroom door.

Prompto walked fully in, closing and locking the door behind him.

Though Ignis had gotten two rooms, each only had one bed, basically making sure that He and Noct either made up or were doomed to awkward sleepy time.

He sighed, sinking onto his side of the bed, dropping his bag to the floor. The bed sunk around him, yielding and reminding him just how long they had been without a real bed to sleep on.

Or a shower to get all the dirt off.

He groaned but didn’t move, listening to the water running as Noct showered, letting his eyes close.

It was five seconds and someone was nudging him, Prompto blinking up to see Noct with dripping hair.

“The shower’s free. I know you like to clean up before you sleep.”

Noct moved away, Prompto sitting up and following him with his eyes. He had a towel around his waist, his upper body completely naked. Strong muscles flowed under his skin as he moved, every part showing off his training.

Prompto thought back to what Gladio had said, how they had only trained him in self defense and not much else.

How his body wasn’t built like Noct’s; how it was more lithe and flexible, his muscles not obvious but there, even after the months of being out and about.

How, unlike the small slashes that told of Noct’s fights, the only things carving into Prompto’s skin were the stretch marks and stretching scars of the past never quite forgotten.

He sighed and grabbed his toiletries before heading to the shower, stepping into the still-steaming room and closing the door behind him.

When he got out - and he thought he had taken a bit longer than normal - Noct was waiting for him, dressed in a big shirt and sweats, lights still on and phone is going, the music telltale of King’s Knights.

He looked up when Prompto came out, blushing slightly and looking back down as he caught sight of his bare chest.

“You done with the shower?”

Prompto blinked, not really sure what Noct was embarrassed about.

He nodded, walking over to his bag and pulling out his sleeping clothes. Noct turned away, letting him dress before dropping the bomb.

“I think we should talk.”

Prompto looked over, seeing Noct get off his phone and face him. Prompto nodded, sinking to sit on his side of the bed, twisting around so he was facing Noct.

“Okay.”

Noct, nodded, facing him too and crossing his legs underneath him. They stayed like that for a bit, Noct looking nervous, probably trying to find words. Prompto just waited, his mind flashing to Gladio’s speech.

Let him actually explain what he meant.

Prompto swallowed, Noct looking up and speaking.

“First, I wanted to apologize. I let my anger get better of me and I probably said some things that sounded different than what I meant.”

Okay, good start. Probably should apologize too.

“I am sorry too, I guess. I overreacted.”

Noct nodded, his head falling forward so fringe hid his eyes, his hands coming together.

“That said and done, I wanted to actually talk to you. If we could?”

Prompto felt his heart race, his mind going back to the fight.

No one asked you to!

“About what?”

It came out sharper than he meant it to, Noct’s hands tightening around themselves as he looked off to the side.

“Well, for starters, maybe about the fight?”

If you stopped putting yourself on the line protecting me then we wouldn't be having this conversation!

“What about it?”

Noct frowned, sighed, looked at Prompto, his eyes concerned more than anything.

There was no anger, nothing there from the fight.

“About how you always put yourself on the line for me? Or how you readily put yourself in danger?”

“I can take care of myself.”

Noct gave him a look, one equally hurt and tired.

Still no anger.

“Prom, I am not saying that.”

No one is saying you can't Prom.

Prompto felt his stomach churn.

You weren’t built to be a Crownsguard Prompto.

“Then what are you saying? So what if I throw myself out there? So what if I protect you? So what if I try to do something besides just being around and getting in the way?”

We trained you in self defense Prompto.

“Prom, you don't get in the way.”

Not exactly extreme training.

Prompto felt it, even though Noct still wasn't angry, still had nothing but mild concern and complete remorse in his voice; in his face.

It’s not meant to help you protect someone else.

He felt it, the stab of complete helplessness that made his stomach knot.

“You say that but I am not an idiot Noct. I can see where I stand pretty clearly. I am not as strong as Gladio; not as smart as Ignis; I can't give advice like Luna; don't know how to empathize with royalty. I suck at everything but guns and hardly even hot average with diplomacy. I can't take on those responsibilities; I am not good enough to fit any of those roles.”

Noct didn’t ask you to come along so you could die for him Prompto.

“I get that you feel some obligation to make up for my lack of, of everything but at least let me be useful! I might not be good enough to stand by your side but at least let me prove that I am good enough to fight my king!”

Prompto was yelling the last part, his voice cracking as he felt the hot tears sting his eyes.

His throat was getting clogged, the stupid lump making it hard to breathe. Noct was looking at him, his face so transparent as he looked at him in horror. Like Prompto had said something he couldn't believe.

He didn't want this; didn't want this feeling of remorse to be here.

Just the thought of Noct not even considering him good enough tore his heart, that face filled with silent horror at his plea ripped it to shreds.

What if I don’t want to know what he meant?

He moved, trying to swing his legs off the bed so he could get away - he had to, he just had to - but Noct leapt forward, his legs instantly untangling so he could grab Prompto's arm, both his hands straining so he couldn't tear away.

“Prom, please.”

Prompto heard it, heard the raw emotion in his friend's voice; turned around to look at Noct, seeing the same pain he felt in those midnight orbs.

He swallowed, trying to push down that lump.

“What?”

Noct let his hand go and instantly wrapped him in a hug, his arms snaking around his neck, his hands cradling Prompto's head into his shoulder. He squeezed tightly, clutching at Prompto with a strength that told of desperation and absolute sorrow.

Prompto felt everything brake, felt everything just fall apart, and instantly grabbed Noct, pulling their bodies together, clinging to him even though he was almost positive he would rather run away.

Noct let him cry, gave him time to just be there, before he began to pat his head, his voice raspy.

“Prom, gods, did you really think that's what I meant? That you weren't good enough to protect me? That you weren't even worth dying for me!?”

He stopped the ministrations, tightening his grip around Prompto.

“I can't eve- Prom, it isn't true. That's not what I meant. I- I didn't ask you to come and be here and go on this trip because I thought of you as only worth the extra body.”

He slowly untangled himself from Prompto, one hand carding through his hair as the other swirled along his back.

They slowly went back on the bed, shifting so their bodies were fitting better, Prompto practically in Noct's lap, as Noct continued.

“I don't know why you think of yourself like this. You are Prompto. The one teenager who had the guts to be himself around the prince. Prompto, the guy who had the audacity to beat all of my highscores. Prompto, the one person who will eat my vegetables even as Ignis gives us the stink eye. Prompto, the man who dealt with my lazy ass throughout three years of high school, two years after that, and how many months now on the road. Prompto, the only person able to outshoot Cor Leonis. Prompto, the only one dumb enough to walk up to the King and say, ‘It's been awhile.’ Prompto, the man who came on this trip just because I told you it was my birthday wish.”

Prompto felt his cheeks heat up, felt his heart slowly mend a little with Noct's words, Noct's voice.

He clung tighter, letting his arms fully wrap around Noct, digging into Noct's neck.

Noct just continued petting him, letting his chin rest in his hair, crazy from the lack of after shower care.

“You're the man who stuck by my side despite it not being in your job description. The man who followed me even as I almost got us killed. Multiple times. The man who slowly and surely stayed with me, letting me open myself to you. The man who, in turn, gave me the chance to see you. Prompto, you're my only friend. You're my one and only gunman. My one and only partner when we sneak out.

My one and only Prompto Argentum.”

Noct shifted, letting Prompto go, his hands slowly moving to cup his face, guiding it to look at him.

Noct smiled, something sad but filled with emotion that Prompto wasn't familiar with.

“You don't have to be anyone else Prom. You don't have to compare yourself to anyone else.”

He leaned forward, letting their foreheads bump, his hands wiping away tears as he closed his eyes.

Prompto did the same, letting Noct's voice wash over him.

“You're good enough for me Prom.”

“Never forget that.”

#noctis month #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #prompto argentum #gladdy daddy #ignis mama #self-esteem issues #peptalks #tears #comfort

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salmonthestoryteller · 7 years

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Fandom, Fanfiction and the Good Old Days

Or:

The Journey of a Fanfic Writing, Fandom Old School Fujoshi Lesbian

…who kinda wishes modern fandom would learn to get along…

When I first got involved with fanfiction, which was actually even farther back then my first posted fic on the Pit of Voles (Which was already well before it became known as such), we didn’t have tags. We didn’t even really have ratings at first. We didn’t mark things “mxm rated:m soandsointhealley” or whatever.

We were a smaller group and had our own words and labels. We marked our fics “Slash/Femslash” or “Yaoi/Yuri” if it included it, and didn’t mark at all if there was Het. We labeled it “Lime/Lemon/Full of citrus-y goodness/PWP” if there was sex, and nothing at all if there wasn’t. Unless it was super fluffy. Then it was “WAFF”. I don’t even remember warning for violence, character death, or kinks. Fanfiction was a bit “read at your own risk.”

There was a distinct “don’t like it, don’t read it” belief among us, and trolls who sent flames of the “I hate this couple/kink/fandom - you are a sick person for writing this” variety tended to get their asses banned.

This was both back in the days of yahoo groups, fanfiction mailing lists, and even farther back to Telix and Bulletin boards. For the young ones out there, let me take a moment to explain.

First, fandom was not invented by the world wide web. It existed long before that. Through conventions, fanzines, and computer bulletin boards. Yes, before the world wide web, fans still used computers to connect. As opposed to typing in websites, we connected to our boards through phone numbers.

Boards tended to be fandom specific. Sometimes Genre. Sci-Fi (And we called it Sci-Fi back then none of this “true fans call it Science Fiction” stuff) boards, Fantasy boards, Horror boards, Anime boards, etc. You had a handle you logged in with to post, then you logged off, hung up the call, and dialed up the next board to geek out on a different subject. (And Telemarketers were eeevil. Because they called your phone, broke your connection and your post was lost and you had to retype the whole thing. And did they ever call on a post you typed up in 30 seconds? No, they always called on the ones it took you 20 minutes to type, gdi.)

The only old handle I remember at this point was Echo on a board that was Battlestar Galactica fandom named, but general science fiction and fantasy fandom based. And I only remember because I named myself after my favorite Greek Myth.

Anime especially this was a big deal for. This was my teenage years, so even most fans of regular science fiction and fantasy believed all anime=pr0n.

I discovered anime when my mother rented out a room to a fellow geek friend of my eldest sister. He had some magazines with pieces of Area 88, which I was fascinated by. Then he loaned out a copy of Ranma ½ to us and I fell down the rabbit hole and never climbed back out.

Anime and manga was very hard to come by. Seriously, guys, you don’t even know. We had PO boxes we exchanged recorded vhs through with fellow fans cuz aside from conventions or travelling to Japan, it was not available to buy. I had one copy of Tenchi Muyo’s first episode I got at a convention and nothing else for years. Though one fellow fan hit me up with a recorded vhs of official Tenchi MVs and the VA concert, which still remains one of my fandom treasures.

We also transcribed episodes for each other. That was how I got into and followed numerous series back in my teenage years. Transcribes.

Gosh, I feel old typing all this. Like some little old bitty yelling “Get off my grass!”

I don’t think I got into Yaoi/slash until after the www. Well, no, not exactly true. I remember peeking at the folded inserts in the RightStuf Catalogs and dreaming of buying Fake and Kizuna, but never daring to explore my interest until after the www when Mailing Lists and Yahoo groups was a thing. I remember when Fake was first sold at bookstores, sneaking over on my lunch break at work to buy each book as it came out, and hiding them in my purse the rest of the day. (I was lucky I didn’t work for a company that did bag checks back then.) They were kept in a shoe box under my bed and away from my roommate’s prying eyes.

Cuz while anime fans were slowly gaining acceptance, slash and yaoi fans were still the black sheep of the family. We may have claimed the Fujoshi title for our own over the years, but never forget it was very much an insult when first invented. I still know plenty of anime fans that look down at us.

I am kinda mad at some of my fellow lgbt folks who are bashing the yaoi/slash/yuri/femslash fandoms. The first yuri I ever read was pretty obviously some straight guy’s lesbian fantasy, but I didn’t go around screaming about wrecking my dreams of societal norms or what-not. Hell, I was just glad there was anything out there at all for someone coming into her own as a lesbian to read.

Many of the best known lgbt films and movies were made long after my sixteen year old self realized she wasn’t going boy crazy like her school friends, and those films were hard to come by in early years as well. So instead I got involved in slash/femslash/yaoi/yuri fanfiction and bought yaoi manga, and bitorrented yuri manga - cuz it was even harder to come by. And, yah, some of it sucked. Some of it was weird. But you can say the same for any genre, and especially any fanfiction of any genre, out there. I will never apologize for my love of these fandoms.

“Don’t like it, don’t read it.”

I mean, hate a specific show/book/etc all you want. Rant about it, in fact, I am good for it. I know I have. (You do not want to give me permission to say anything at all about Twilight or Fifty Shades of Grey. Or the food served in the Hunger Game Series, cuz I kinda like the series but omg, the food is so off basis for… NM. Geez, see what happens when you get me going?)

What you do not do is come onto a post someone made about loving something and proceed to flame it and call it names and the poster names and generally be an all around Troll.

And yes, the modern fans could stand to learn a lesson or two about not arguing back with you people. As we used to say:

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

Another favorite:

“Flames will be used to keep me warm at night.”

But is it really so hard to click that back button instead?

And, yes, I am aware a few of my fellow Fujoshis can be obnoxious and also need to learn to not troll. But basing your opinion of us on one internet troll is like the old “Sci-Fi/Fantasy/Gaming/Anime/etc” Geeks are all losers who live in their parents basements trope. (As if these weren’t expensive hobbies in need of seriously hard earned cash to maintain!)

But really, rinse and repeat:

“Don’t feed the trolls.”

Can’t we all just get along?

#fandom #fanfiction #oldschool #fujoshi #rant #yaoi #yuri #slash #femslash #anime #manga #scifi #fantasy #geekdom #can't we all just get along?#salmon rants #salmonrants #fudanshi

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nextstepelectric · 5 years

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davidoespailla · 5 years

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Top 10 Affordable Small Towns Where You’d Actually Want to Live, 2019 Edition

iStock; realtor.com

Small-town America is making a big comeback.

No, we’re not sounding the death knell for big-city living just yet. But after years of losing residents to bustling urban areas and their equally bustling suburbs, the nation’s smaller municipalities are again tempting more Americans with the seductive lures of greater affordability and a simpler way of life. In 2017 populations of these closer-knit enclaves began rising for the first time this decade, according to the latest U.S. Census data available.

And why not? There’s plenty to love about these all-American locales where home prices are way more reasonable, crime is low, public schools are decent—and you might actually know the first and last names of all of your neighbors. And their kids! Even younger, first-time home buyers are coming to grips with the fact that leaving the city behind doesn’t mean leaving behind fun, culture, beauty, connectedness, and even—dare we say it?—a bit of excitement.

They just need to know where to set their sights—and we’re here to help.

So, for the third year running, realtor.com® set out to find America’s best small towns, places that could melt even the calloused hearts of the most die-hard urban dwellers.

“Moving to a small town lets people afford a quality of life that is really appealing and lets them feel like a part of community … in a way that so many young people are looking for today,” says Winona Dimeo-Ediger, editor of Livability.com.

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To create our list, we looked at more than 500 U.S. Census–designated micropolitan areas.* Then we factored in the following criteria** to come up with our rankings:

Median home list prices on realtor.com

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Two-year home price appreciation

But we didn’t stop there. We dug deeper to find the places that offer residents something extra: one-of-a-kind festivals, quirky mom and pop shops, surprising foodie destination spots. And yeah, a Spam Museum.

Sick of your big-city rent? Let’s take a tour of America’s best small towns.

Top 10 Affordable Small Towns

Tony Frenzel

1. Boone, IA

Median home price: $134,500 Population: 26,484

Boone, IA

realtor.com

The first weekend after Labor Day is when Boone, about an hour northwest of Des Moines, comes alive. It’s the start of the town’s annual Pufferbilly Days festival featuring everything from a 5K run and motorcycle show to live polka performances and—wait for it—a spelling bee! Since the 1970s, this event has paid tribute to this historic coal town’s railroad history, which includes being a major stop along the Union Pacific Railroad.

“Boone is a community that represents Iowa in everything: past, present, and future,” says Greg Piklapp, a Boone city councilman. To put the town’s future on the right footing, it has used its close proximity to Iowa State University Research Park, 15 minutes away in Ames, to attract agriculture and bioscience companies.

The strong industries have pushed the median household income here to $57,906, which is higher than the rest of the state.

Story Street, the town’s main drag, is lined with two-story storefronts with flower baskets hanging from their light poles. Down the side streets are big, two-story historic homes with front porches, priced around $100,000. Folks can also snag two-bedroom apartments with a white, subway tile backsplash in the kitchen for $600 a month.

Hometown perk: All aboard! Folks can hop on the Boone and Scenic Valley Railroad, a sweet evening ride in a historic train cart that includes a good dinner.

2. Van Wert, OH

Median home price: $94,600 Population: 28,217

Three-bedroom ranch in Van Wert, OH

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When Jerry Mazur, now 78, wrapped up his final project in New York City as manager of an elevator installation firm in 2000, he and his wife moved out of their $10,000-a-month Manhattan apartment and set off for small-town living in Van Wert. They relocated to slash their cost of living and be near his wife’s mom, but didn’t know what to expect from the town, 40 minutes southwest of Fort Wayne, IN.

“As an outsider I found people warm and friendly. … It is easy to integrate into Van Wert,” says Mazur. So easy, in fact, that in 2016 he took over as mayor of the town.

Van Wert was the cheapest town on our list, but it offers big-city amenities, including the Van Wert Civic Theatre and Wassenburg Art Center, as well as a quaint Main Street lined with storefronts dating to the 1950s.

Housing runs the gamut, from three-bedroom ranch homes priced around $100,000 to new construction. The Landing at Dickinson Farms, a new subdivision, will offer up to 300 suburban, single-family homes and condominiums from $160,000 to over $200,000.

Hometown perk: The Van Wert Community Dog Park, a fully fenced canine mecca paid for by community donations, now hosts the annual Dog Bone Hunt each Easter.

3. Decatur, IN

Median home price: $117,500 Population: 35,491

Three-bedroom home listed for under $140,000 in Decatur, IN

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If you’re making the two-hour trip from Indianapolis, you’re going to pass plenty of cow pastures, corn and soybean fields, and grain silos on the way. In many ways, this is your prototypical small Midwestern town.

But Decatur, founded in 1836, has its own unique vibe, too. On the weekend places like the Riverview Tap, a bar with some great live music, are packed. People like to cut loose here.

Decatur’s biggest selling point is its price tag—cheap even for Indiana. Finding two-bedroom homes in town for under $70,000 isn’t hard, and buyers in their 20s are common. The town is working on revitalizing some of its older neighborhoods, thanks to a grant by the Howard G. Buffett Foundation in 2017.

Hometown perk: Late October marks the start of the Callithumpian Festival, featuring zombie walks, haunted wagon tours, costume contests, and a huge parade. Yup, they take their Halloween seriously here.

4. McPherson, KS

Median home price: $158,800 Population: 28,708

A hundred-year-old, four-bedroom home in McPherson, KS

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If all of the 20-somethings whizzing by on road bikes isn’t a dead giveaway, then surely places like the Craft Coffee Parlor spell it out: This is a college town. About an hour north of Wichita, it’s home to McPherson College and the Central Christian College of Kansas, boasting about 1,600 students between them.

“McPherson, KS, is one of the most progressive small communities in the Midwest,” says Anne Kirchner, with the McPherson Convention and Visitors Bureau.

Like many college towns, there’s a big range in home types and prices. They range from stately, two-story, 100-year old homes with front porches around $165,000 (perfect for a professor) to five-bedroom houses going for $115,000 that seem designed to accommodate multiple college students.

McPherson boast a strong cultural arts scene, with frequent performances at the McPherson Opera House and traveling exhibits at the McPherson Museum & Arts Foundation.

Hometown perk: The town’s Hemp Victory Garden sells all sorts of cannabidiol oils that don’t require prescriptions.

5. Los Alamos, NM

Median home price: $375,800 Population: 18,738

Homes in Los Alamos, NM

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The country’s best and brightest physicists headed to Los Alamos during World War II to help develop what would become the nuclear bomb. And today it still remains a hub for high-paying science and tech jobs, with the Los Alamos National Laboratory being its top employer. Not only is this the most affluent small town on our ranking, its median household income of $110,190 is among the highest in the nation.

And while homes here aren’t cheap, they’re much more affordable than in Santa Fe, about 40 minutes to the southeast. The median home price there is $594,100.

“The lab recruits worldwide,” says Joanie Ahlers, economic development administrator for Los Alamos County. “We have a steady stream of young families moving into town.”

A classic Los Alamos home sits atop the town’s many cliffs, and has breathtaking views of the New Mexico canyons and terrain down below. And folks here have a lot of time to take in those views: Last year realtor.com ranked Los Alamos County as one of the top 10 counties where people live the longest.

Hometown perk: International swim teams from places such as Belgium and Japan train in the local Aquatic Center, a top-notch facility with Olympic-size pools.

6. Austin, MN

Median home price: $115,000 Population: 39,566

Austin, MN

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Austin flies in the face of stereotypes about small towns in decline. Construction crews are hard at work here, putting up a $35 million, 100,000-square-foot community center that will include everything from indoor running tracks to warm therapy pools. It’s slated to open later this year.

So why is Austin, nearly two hours south of Minneapolis, doing so well? It’s home to the headquarters of Fortune 500 packaged food maker Hormel. The company spends millions improving the community and attracting talent.

“People from everywhere come here,” says Kristen Olson, a community concierge at the Austin Area Chamber of Commerce who helps newcomers transition to living in the town, including those in refugee resettlements. “We have some 50 languages spoken in our schools.”

Home buyers tend to live in cozy, century-old, two-story houses that go for around $90,000.

Hometown perk: Two words: Spam Museum.

7. Williston, ND

Median home price: $240,000 Population: 33,349

Ranch home in Williston, ND

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Williston has seen a modern-day gold rush thanks to the North Dakota oil boom that started in the mid-2000s. The population jumped 49% since 2010.

It’s now packed with great jobs, pushing the median household income up to $89,874. That’s higher than big cities like Minneapolis and Chicago.

But those bigger paychecks haven’t come without some growing pains. Some folks have struggled to find affordable apartments, and the influx of students created a teacher shortage. And when oil prices took a hit in 2015, so did the city. (But it was a momentary setback: North Dakota oil production hit a new record in December.)

When all the new folks started moving to town, builders put up ranch homes with bright and open floor plans. But Williston has managed to retain its small-town charm.

Hometown perk: Check out the classics, muscle cars, choppers, and rat rods at the annual Chokecherry Festival Car & Bike Show

8. Mexico, MO

Median home price: $94,800 Population: 25,641

Ranch home in Mexico, MO

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For one week each summer, Mexico is transformed from a quaint, quiet community into a giant beauty pageant filled with baton twirling, vocal solos, and clouds of hairspray. The town, about two hours northwest of St. Louis, has hosted the Miss Missouri pageant since 1970. The winner goes on to compete in Miss America.

Home buyers who want lots of neighbors can choose from two-story houses near the city center with wraparound porches built in the 1930s that go for around $60,000. Meanwhile, those seeking more peace and quiet can score 3,000-square-foot, custom-built ranch homes surrounded by woods for around $250,000.

There are all the hallmarks of a classic small town: a mom and pop tire repair shop, a bowling alley, and a miniature golf course. But for more elevated pursuits, there’s also the Presser Performing Arts Center, which holds art classes for locals and hosts dance performances.

Hometown perk: Quirky history—the town was established in 1836, the same time that Texans lost to the country of Mexico in the Battle of the Alamo.

9. Merrill, WI

Median home price: $145,000 Population: 27,838

Merrill, WI

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This haven for history buffs is located along the banks of the Wisconsin River. Merrill boasts six buildings on the National Register of Historic Places, including the Lincoln County Courthouse, a Beaux Arts–style building with a grand clock tower, and Merrill City Hall.

Buyers who dig the town’s past can snag two-bedroom homes built in the 1920s and ’30s that need some serious fixing up for under $50,000. And on the outskirts of Merrill are 1970s-era ranches with two-car garages going for just under $200,000.

This cozy river town tends to attract families keen on enjoying the outdoors. On the weekends you’ll spot ’em hiking through the pine trees in Council Grounds State Park, a 500-acre park just minutes from the town’s center. Or maybe Mom and Dad will sneak out for drinks at Sawmill Brewing Co.

Hometown perk: Drink cheap beer (it’s Wisconsin!), and throw darts at All Aboard, a good, old-fashioned dive bar.

10. Andrews, TX

Median home price: $232,000 Population: 17,722

Andrews, TX

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This first oil well was drilled 90 years ago in Andrews, located in the heart of West Texas’ Permian Basin. It’s no wonder this town, about 40 minutes north of Odessa, is full of good-paying trucking, engineering, and oil field jobs. The typical household income is $70,753 here—topping incomes in cities such as Austin and Dallas.

Andrews is no stranger to boom-and-bust cycles. After some down years following the low oil prices of 2015, things are looking up again. List prices on realtor.com have soared 30% over the past two years. Passing cattle ranches, oil diggers, and that West Texas grass-coved desert landscape, home buyers can find lots of ranches priced around $230,000 on the outskirts of town.

The character of this town can be summed up by its Wild, Wild West Fest. The annual festival, held in April, includes two-steppin’ under the evening stars to country music, a barbecue cook-off, truck and tractor pulls, and, of course, goat roping.

Hometown perk: The steak fingers at Buddy’s Drive-In, founded in 1969, are a local obsession.

* This is a government definition that includes a core community plus the outlying areas with a total population of between 10,000 to 50,000 folks. We included only one place per state to achieve some geographic diversity.

** Data sources: realtor.com, Sperling’s Best Places, U.S. Census Bureau, and U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics

The post Top 10 Affordable Small Towns Where You’d Actually Want to Live, 2019 Edition appeared first on Real Estate News & Insights | realtor.com®.

Top 10 Affordable Small Towns Where You’d Actually Want to Live, 2019 Edition

#TRUSTED LOCAL REALTOR #Top 10 Affordable Small Towns Where You’d Actually Want to Live #2019 Edition

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stockcointalk-blog · 6 years

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Cryptocurrency: new slap for Bitcoin, Ripple and their acolyte

New Post has been published on https://stockcointalk.com/cryptocurrency-new-slap-for-bitcoin-ripple-and-their-acolyte/

Cryptocurrency: new slap for Bitcoin, Ripple and their acolyte

Another difficult day for digital currencies … Bitcoin is currently selling close to 5% to $ 10,204 according to Coinmarketcap, while Ethereum is down 3% over 24 hours to $ 1,114. The Ripple stumbles 8% to $ 1.14 and Bitcoin Cash 6% to $ 1,498. The other ‘cryptos’ are not spared, the Cardano dipping 10% and Litecoin 6%. The NEM, which has been talked about quite recently after the record-breaking Coincheck hacking, is still slashing 10% to $ 0.77.

After Coincheck, Bitfinex worries

US regulators are interested in two cryptocurrency players, whose activities raise a number of questions. The Bloomberg agency revealed yesterday that Bitfinex and Tether, two companies headed by the same CEO, had been assigned by the Commodity Futures Trading Commission (CFTC), the authority in charge of regulating commodity derivatives. . The CFTC sent them a letter on December 6, according to a source of ‘Bloomberg’ which however did not clarify the nature of this investigation.

Bitfinex is a digital currency exchange platform, while Tether is the issuer of the eponymous cryptocurrency. The Tether is the 22nd digital currency by its capitalization, which amounts to about 2.3 billion dollars. Crypto Tether is backed by the dollar (its value is stable at $ 1). The firm ensures to have enough greenbacks in reserve to cover the ‘tokens’ in circulation … This assertion has however never been proven and some experts doubt that the company actually has these $ 2.3 billion. In addition, last weekend, Tether announced it had unilaterally severed its ties with an audit firm Friedman LLP, which had undertaken to review its accounts.

Neither Tether nor Bitfinex has publicly communicated the location of their headquarters, the identities of their managers or their financial data. The parent company of Bitfinex, iFinex Inc., is registered in the British Virgin Islands, and says it is based in Hong Kong … This lack of clarity therefore clearly hurts the sector, especially since it is possible that the product of Tether was reinvested in Bitcoins, fueling the previous rise of the queen of ‘cryptos’.

The Coincheck pirates are trying to sell their loot

For its part, the NEM Foundation continues to ‘follow’ the NEMs stolen by the digital ‘robbers’ of the Japanese exchange platform Coincheck, thanks to the traceability system of the blockchain. For the record, this case still fresh was a record piracy in the middle of ‘cryptos’, stolen NEM representing an amount of $ 530 million at the time of the theft. According to the ‘foundation’, the perpetrators would try to make multiple transactions in order to sell the virtual loot. The NEM Foundation remains active

The ‘tokens’ XEM (symbol of the NEM) have been traced for several days by the NEM Foundation. The foundation explains that the thieves tried to move the units on six different exchanges, in order to resell them. Jeff McDonald, the vice-president of the foundation, based in Singapore and quoted by the agency ‘Reuters’, adds that the platforms that hackers have targeted to get rid of the NMS will be contacted …

For a handful of NMS

The NEM is a cryptocurrency and a blockchain platform launched in early 2015. This blockchain is tested by financial institutions and private firms, especially in Asia. The NEM crypto-currency has been heavily hacked on the Coincheck, Coincheck, Japan-controlled Coincheck platform. 523 million “tokens” were stolen for a total of about 530 million dollars (58 billion yen) – based on quoted prices at the time of the breakage. About 260,000 Coincheck users would have been affected. Coincheck intends to repay them in full.

“We would like to sincerely apologize to our customers and all those who have been affected by this incident and we will do our best to make significant changes to our platform in order to regain the trust of our customers and the community”, assured Coincheck the day before yesterday, on the sidelines of the announcement of a request for improvement of the operations of the FSA. Previously, the platform had asked users to stop making deposits until restrictions were lifted. The exchanges and the withdrawals of NEMs had been suspended, then the exchanges of all the ‘cryptos’, except Bitcoin.

Coincheck has been strongly criticized by the Japanese authorities for its weak governance and too light security. After this record piracy, the Japanese financial regulator has promised a general inspection of local cryptocurrency exchange platforms. The FSA (Japan’s Financial Services Agency) has asked Coincheck to make the necessary improvements to its operations. The Japanese regulator is expecting from Coincheck a detailed report about piracy. Preventive measures will have to be clarified on February 13th.

The FSA must also determine if Coincheck has sufficient funds to keep its promises of repayment, in other words if the group is still strong enough after this blow, which has significantly affected his reputation. The platform currently says it will quickly strengthen its governance and the protection of its customers, while developing its risk management systems.

Mt. Gox, painful memory

The Coincheck affair reminds Japan of the sad memory of the Mt. Gox affair, a platform whose collapse in 2014 had caused trouble in the small world of ‘cryptos’. Mt. Gox, then headed by the French Mark Karpelès, was … the main trading platform of Bitcoin. At the height of its glory, Mt. Gox accounted for up to 80% of the total bitcoin trading volume. In February 2014, the platform abruptly halted its activity after the loss of 850,000 bitcoins, which at the time represented about $ 400 million. The Japanese exchange had collapsed, insolvent.

#Bitcoin #Bitfinex #Cardano #CFTC #Coincheck #Coinmarketcap #Ethereum #iFinex #Litecoin #NEM #Ripple

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wanderlust-journal · 7 years

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Fempotential.com magazine published this story today, January 2017, on the anniversary of Mum’s passing.

Here is a copy of article following more photographs that didn’t make it into the magazine.

The phone call came late in the afternoon, my brother’s name popped up on the screen.

“Either you’ve been drinking or something happened!” I joked.

Pause. “Both. Mum, she’s in ICU. She fell. Brain injury. We don’t know how bad.”

In the local pub where I sat clutching a beer and huddled in front of the open fire, a friend came up. Sharon worked in the ER in Santa Fe, NM where I live. I told her the news. “How long was she unconscious?”

“She still is.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” She patted my shoulder and said nothing else. I knew then.

Nine months later, I strode across the cliffs along the Gower Coast in Wales. Behind me, my extended family stretched out in the twilight, chatting, laughing, and telling each other stories of my mum. Rhossilli Bay is a mile long, a broad wide and sandy beach with low rising hills to the east. My brother, Pete, came to check on me. At that moment, my cousins and their families released all those sky lanterns. Dozens of white balloons floated over the ocean and out towards Ireland to the west, the dark sky was calm and they drifted slowly out to sea. Silhouettes against a waning moon. Peaceful.

It would have been Mum’s 70th birthday. Sallie had planned for us all to get together to celebrate her birthday; she’d made us all promise the summer before, but then she died of a brain injury in January. We came here for her. Four cottages were rented, and the fridges filled with her favorite foods and not forgetting plenty of white wine in her honor. Sallie loved family gatherings more than anything. And for this, I am heartbroken because I didn’t understand. I kept my distance, even moving to the States in my twenties and yet there I was in my early forties suddenly appreciating the depth and expanse of family and her magic of bringing us together. My mum taught me, finally, the worth of family.

In the seventies, our old Land Rover was packed with a tall orange and green canvas tent, a folding table, cooking gear, and the clothes and toys needed for two young kids. After four hours driving along winding back roads, Mum called out, “I can see the sea! I can see the sea! I win!” She’d squeal in delight. The Welsh coast opened up in front us as Dad drove down the small highway heading out to Rhossilli. We’d stop at the store for ice, sodas and those last-minute odds and ends, like a plastic shovel and bucket for me, and a kite for Pete. Then off to Middleton, a small village before the peninsula, where we’d set up camp. Well, Mum and Dad would. I’d be off wandering around the campground, meeting other kids and their parents, inviting them back to meet my mum and dad. In the middle of trying to settle in, I’d show up with a small group behind me. Dad would stop what he was doing and pour out drinks and begin to chat. Mum and I’d pass out some snacks. The tent finally got put up with the help of my new friends. It worked out each time.

That night in August though, Pete and I took time alone, time to watch those lanterns float westward. Memories and Memorials.

“Are you okay? Do you really want to go?” “Yep, I need time alone. You know how I am; this is too much for me. It’s okay, I’ll be back in a week or so.”

He hugged me and let me go. We walked back to the family and then we all wandered in the dark back to the cottages in Middleton. Cousins Tony, Paul and Nanette cooked up a feast and my brother’s kids made a campfire. We sat around late into the night, all of us full of stories and steaks.

Aunty Viv talked of growing up there in Wales. “During the summers after the Second World War, our dad would bring Sallie and I here for a week’s camping. Your gran would bring Les and Andy a week later. They couldn’t leave the farm alone so we split it between us. They chose this place in part because of the name; their own farm was Middleton, but far away in Worcester. The two farming families became close, and Old Mrs. Button still remembers your grandparents. You should ask her sometime. But don’t believe what she says about me and Sallie!”

The next morning, Viv hugged me tightly. The Honda motorbike was packed with gear, and it was time to leave her. My sweet aunt. Sallie and Viv spoke every day on the phone, saw each other often, they were incredibly close. I’d come across Viv down the alley that night before, sobbing her heart out, devastated at losing her big sister. I’d grabbed her to me and let her cry. “But I should be helping you,” she insisted.

“You are.”

Time to leave then, with most of my cousins and families all gone, I’d already said bye to Pete. Saying bye to Viv was the hardest. I didn’t know that it would be the last time. Cancer got her before the year was out.

“How long?”

“Four hours, Miss. The ferry takes four hours; it could be longer if the wind builds up like yesterday. But in good time, there’s no rush is there? We’ll be there by mid-day. Ireland’s only a hundred miles from Fishguard.” He took my ticket and showed me where to tie up the motorcycle on the left side of the ferry’s underbelly.

“Take everything with you, just for safety’s sake. Enjoy the trip!”

The ferry left for Rosslare at the crack of dawn, the sun barely visible on a cloudy overcast day. We’d been lucky in Wales, the sun shone plenty enough for hikes along the hills, and down to the beaches for the kids to play in the waves. Now though, the weather was turning and how appropriate it felt. I hugged Mum’s sweater to me and stood at the railings with the wind slashing slamming and fighting me for my every choked breath.

The Blarney Castle in County Cork was my first destination. The ride across N5 took me through Dungarvan and Youghal, cleansing me inside and out as rain belted down briefly, soaking deep into my boots. The highways were pretty empty and in no time I pulled up outside the Muskerry Arms on the town square. The pub and restaurant downstairs were packed on that Sunday afternoon yet the rooms upstairs were calm and peaceful. I couldn’t face people yet. I couldn’t face the inevitable question about where in the States did I come from. With twenty years in New Mexico, I’d lost much of my English accent. My wet clothes hung on the radiators and I’d emptied out the backpack, looking for John, my teddy bear, who now sat on the pillow of the king-sized bed under the windows. I stared out on the busy village below before falling asleep. With both parents gone, and a mixture of nightmares, grief, and simply being an adult kid alone in the world, no, I didn’t sleep well.

Blarney Castle is famous for the Stone Of Eloquence. The story isn’t clear, some say the stone came from Scotland and that it was a Coronation Stone, others that it dates back to the Crusades, but these days it’s the gift of the gab that it bestows upon the smoochers that is important. As a writer, it seemed like a good idea, right? I walked through the park that is set around the castle, one full of wilderness, gardens and winding paths. On average, some 300,000 visitors come here but in September I was one of a dozen if that. Admittedly, it was early in the morning as I’d had a simple hotel breakfast and walked over to explore more. I climbed the 127 steps in a narrow stone tower and came up onto an empty parapet. The Blarney Stone is set in the wall below the battlements. To get to it, I had to lean backwards, hold onto the railings, and trusting the guide, who grabbed my hips, fall backwards off the wall. The grass was some ninety feet below and I tried not to faint but to make a wish and kiss the stone. A click of a camera above me caught the moment.

Was this a mid-life crisis? To hit the road alone in my forties? To strap my belongings onto the back of an orange 650 cc motorcycle and ride into an unknown country? Yes, apparently, it is. The Huffington Post described it with an image of a grey-haired woman on a motorbike heading into the horizon. That sounds about right although at the time my hair was still brown and the horizon here was tree-lined while driving south through County Cork. With a map from Viv in the tank bag, I followed the R600 from Kinsale and then onto the smallest most winding roads along the coast. I rode through southern Ireland noting town names, Courtmacsherry, Rosscarberry, Donegal, the Beacon, but talked to no one. My mind was firmly focused on my mum and dad. The roads blurred into a list of numbers, R591, the R592, and back onto R600. Open desolate meadows dropped into the North Sea. The wind slashed across us, the bike and I, as we rode for an hour or so each morning before setting up next to a beach or a stonewall. I’d grab sandwiches and a flask of tea before wandering along rocky shorelines that reminded me of Wales. There I would sit and remember my parents.

After my dad died, Mum and I’d become closer, with my renting a car to take us back to Worms Head Hotel in Rhossilli whenever I was back in the country. We’d stay in the hotel on the peninsula, in a shared room, walking along the beaches, sitting in the hotel pub and staring across the shore towards Ireland. We didn’t talk much, it didn’t come easily, but we relaxed into each other’s company, sharing soft jokes over a coffee in the mornings or a wine in the evenings. We’d neither of us been to Ireland, I don’t know why. Dad and Mum took us in that old Land Rover to France, Spain, and Holland instead. I’d been in Guatemala when Dad died suddenly, and it had taken my brother a few days to locate me and another week for me to get back to the UK. Mum had grabbed me close and held onto me. I’d stayed longer than I’d done for over a decade. Mum and I learnt the rhythms of living together as adults but didn’t talk, not really. We didn’t know how.

Mizen Head, the signal station, the various lighthouses, all those places, as far along the many small narrow peninsulas, that’s where you could find me, alone on a cliff edge. No suicidal urges but an absence of people, of demands, or pity, I needed to surround myself with water. With memories.

As Mum lay in the hospital, in the ICU, plugged into too many machines to count, I held her hand for weeks and talked to her. I reminded her of times we’d been camping in Wales and how we’d leave Dad to carry nearly everything because we couldn’t wait to run to the beaches and how she was just as bad as us kids. Of the beach in Santander, Spain and all those hundreds of steps down to reach it. Of the days on the canal at Gran’s farm learning the names of all the flowers and trees. Running in the fields until the gong called us cousins to dinner. I described my home in Madrid, New Mexico, and the plans for making it into a cottage, a home to be proud of. I’d just finished my first novel and a publisher had written to me about taking me on and so I told Mum. I talked all afternoon long until Pete came after work and took me away. Every day for weeks I sat with Mum. Christmas Day. Boxing Day. New Year’s Day. I emptied myself of all the words I’d held back. Too late? No, she heard me. In that coma, Mum heard me and forgave me. “I know, Sarah, I know you. It’s all right. I know you.”

In Kenmare, I settled in for a few days. Time had been dragging in the sense that each day was full of silence, huge ocean vistas, and quiet evenings alone watching locals chatting in the pubs I’d stay at. I had no words for strangers. On Henry Street though, the main street in Kenmare, I parked the orange bike outside an orange building and wandered off one afternoon. The sun shone, it was a glorious September week and striding downhill towards a church, my heart softened. A one-way narrow road leads the eye to the spire, the grassy hill behind, and a craggier forest beyond that. The buildings were white, yellow, orange, burgundy, the wooden trim all colors and baskets of flowering bright annuals hung from the balconies above. The locals talked to me about the weather, asking about my trip so far, and suggesting that I stay at Foley’s Pub with the rooms above. I responded, chatting happily and easily with them. Along the main street, the Pantry sold organic foods and I stocked up on some quality cheeses, tomatoes, and good picnic food. A bottle of red wine to finish up. (Sorry, Mum, I still don’t like white wine)

After exploring the area on the bike in the mornings, and wandering in and out of the bookstores and galleries in Kenmare, I found a beachside park for a picnic. I spread out the cheeses; the Brie was for my dad and the Gorgonzola for Mum. Toms, cukes, French bread and a glass of wine. The sun shone on us, the photos of my family were held in place with pebbles, and I toasted them. I thanked them for all that they had given me. The love of travel. The courage to explore. The stories. And the love of a good picnic.

Riding back across N5 towards Rosslare a few days later, a heavy incessant rain didn’t deter me. I’d found peace in my grief. A hotel above the ferry terminal offered a room with a television, a bath and not much else but it didn’t matter. I’d spent a week emptying myself of the painful nightmares and found the memories to refill me, to reassure me. I hadn’t been such a terrible daughter after all. I’m very much the child of my parents. The wanderings, the pubs, and telling the stories later on. Yes, thank you both. You would’ve like Ireland. Now though, it was time to go back to my brother’s home. Family matters after all.

Sallie Leamy August 1940 – January 2010

Thanks Alex T for publishing this travel essay.

Ireland 2010 Fempotential.com magazine published this story today, January 2017, on the anniversary of Mum's passing. Here is a copy of article following more photographs that didn't make it into the magazine.

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