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farming in the dead of winter; [OTA]
Who: Jimmy (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thishurts) & YOU
What: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
thishurts) & YOUWhat: Jimmy setting up his little farm
When: Early-Mid December
Where: Library, Around Town and in the Farmlands, and at his own Farm
Warning(s): dyslexia frustrations and depression mentions
[I've got problems; Not just the ones that are little]
Jimmy’s never been much for reading.
But getting an AI to read him websites out loud really isn’t much of an option anymore. And if he wants to pull any of this off he’s going to have to do this the hard way.
And he hates that, he really does.
He’s in the library. Gritting his teeth. He’s tried to pick out the easiest books he’s been able to find on animal husbandry. He really has. He even has a small notebook next to him, trying to take notes on the important bit like he’s in high school again, like he’s going to be tested on it.
Jimmy can’t even remember the last time he actually applied himself, put in effort into something he wanted to do, and now that he’s actually trying? It’s fucking hard. And discouraging.
The words on the page muddle together like fucking soup and his eyes are exhausted. He sighs. Slams the book shut. Resists the urge to throw the damn thing. He rests his hands in his forehead.
Later he’ll end up checking out a few of these books. For now, he’ll continue to struggle a bit longer.
[It's those people problems; That's something to consider]
You may see Jimmy in various parts of town around the Winter acquiring different things. Mostly purchasing livestock, from the looks of it. Not the whole Noah’s Ark by any means, but certainly enough. Though unless you know Jimmy, you’re unlikely to notice the trend, and honestly, it’s not as if the man stands out by any means.
Or really has any friends to speak of.
Because he doesn’t.
Not many, anyway.
He purchases goats, a few hens, and two bunnies over the course of two weeks, arranging transportation for said animals in the process. You’ll find Jimmy walking across town, one end to the other, carrying individual hens in his arms trying to make sure they don't just fly away, rabbits tucked into his winter coat with their heads sticking out, and at one point pulling the goats behind himself on leads fashioned out of rope.
It’s all going about as well as it sounds it would.
[When you come for dinner at my place]
It wasn’t exactly Jimmy’s brightest idea to set up a new farm in the dead of winter. He’s realizing this now as he’s in his front lawn, trying to fix up the fence around his property. His animals are presumably inside his own home as he’s out with a hammer and nails in hand, a few boards at his feet, hammering away.
His hands are numb and aching. It’s so damn cold out. But surprisingly, this feels, good? He feels good. It feels good to do something with his own hands. His fence looks like fucking shit, frankly, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. He’s fixing it with his own two hands. It’s tangible results that he can see, in real time, and honestly, he’s impressed with how good it actually feels to be doing something with himself.
It beats the hell out of any job he’s done so far. And it certainly beats the hell out of sitting around in the Oak & Iron, staring at the ceiling, doing nothing, napping the days away.
This feels good. It feels important. Right. If you would have told him a few months ago that he’d be content working on a farm, Jimmy would have laughed. But now. Now? It was starting to feel like an actual real possibility that he might enjoy this kind of work.
continuing the nsfw
"It's a figure of speech, I don't think any kind of fucking's gonna save my ass." He says, and he means it so honestly. It's probably as honest as he's been with anyone outside of Neil on this godsforsaken island.
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And boy is that the fucking truth. Capochin. You really ain't half bad my dude.
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"Fair enough." Jimmy shrugs, flicking his cigarette butt to the ground, stomping on it, but then, bending back over to dispose of it properly in a trashcan or something, "So we're both pieces of shit, even's even." He says, clearly joking. Hopefully.
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"Howzat fence goin'? You ever built one before?"
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And he seems. Satisfied with this? For some reason? Like no one can take this away from him. Like he's glad he's made it with his own two hands, even if it didn't turn out very well. Even if it looks like something a kindergartner tried to draw. He made it, damnit.
no subject
Something about the way he says this sounds... reminiscent of an older family member. Like a dad or an uncle. Despite his appearances, his energy and his manner of speaking show his age, as well as his voice. There's something about him that gives the impression of a mentor.
"Dat said, if you ever need tips, I've built lotsa stuff in my day. I'd offer to help ya, but this weather's moider on my arthritis." Yeah, not beating the allegations with that either.
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"... Dude, how old are you?" He asks.
He's not exactly one for manners.
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Younger than himself. It's the height, you see.