#We’re in the triple digits now :)

[daily-dose-of-lepidoptera]

Daily Dose of Lepidoptera

[Day 100]

-Mother Shipton Moth-

Callistege mi

-Silver-Striped Hawkmoth- ((Also known as the Vine Hawkmoth))

Hippotion celerio

-Oak Beauty Moth-

Biston strataria

[freshthoughts2020]

[iwriteiguessandiloveit]

I'll Sleep when i'm Dead

Toon!Beetlejuice x reader

i'll sleep when i'm Dead

Chamomile tea by your bedside. Noise machine you brought up from the basement. A small night light casting shadows around the room. All used in some form or another, and still your eyes were glued open; Thinking of both everything and nothing at the same time. The tick-tock of the clock rang out in your otherwise silent room. Speaking of the clock, what time was it anyway? You turned your head to read the digital clock on your dresser- and made eye contact with two large, grey rimmed eyes. 

You screamed- ‘AUGH!’

After the adrenaline rush had subsided, you knew who the strange eyes belonged to. Beetlejuice, your boyfriend. Who also happens to be a ghost.

He rolled through the air, shaking with fits of laughter. ‘Oh, you should've seen your face! Priceless!’ You rolled your eyes and shunted the covers over to the edge of the bed and stepped over to your dresser. Goosebumps prickled along your arms in the chilly air. ‘BJ! What are you doing here? It’s kinda creepy, spying on me like that.’ 

The mirror’s border creaked as he rested his full weight on it. ‘Aw, c’mon! Can’t I just wanna see my favorite breather?’ 

‘That still doesn't make it any less creepy.’ You murmured. Well, creepy or not, you could take advantage of the situation. Anything’s better than being alone with your thoughts at 3 Am. ‘But since we’re both up…’ With a triple recitation of his moniker; As he was shoved by an invisible force out of the mirror and into reality; He crash landed upside down on the floor. Stars circled around his head and his eyes whirled in their sockets. ‘Y-ya really gotta warn me before ya do that…’ You helped him up, but your giggles were interrupted with a large yawn.

 Beej raised an eyebrow. ‘You look tired, babes. Why aren't-cha in bed?’ Upon remembering your predicament, your shoulders sagged. A heavy sigh escaped your mouth. ‘Can’t. Not for lack of trying, I just have so much on my mind right now, like I have a science test tomorrow and notes for history and I have to wake up 30 minutes earlier because I have to pick up my prescription before they send it back and i’ve been trying to go to bed for 3 and a half hours now-’ You were interrupted by Beetlejuice, who shoved a grimy finger to your lips. ‘Ahp-bup-bup, no need to freak out. I’m gonna help you!’ Your eyebrows quirked skeptically, but before, you could express your doubt in that idea he exclaimed-

‘I got an idea! Lemme serenade you to sleep!’ He thrust his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out a full size accordion, complete with handles and a black and white paint job. He started playing a few painfully off-key base notes. ‘Any requests?’ Remembering the last time he tried to play something for you and all the apology notes you had to write to the neighbors, you pushed the accordion down a few inches. 

‘No-thanks, sweet of you but I don’t think it’ll help.’ 

‘You never want to hear my songs.’ He grumbled. But his face lightened up after a moment and exclaimed, ‘I know what’ll help-’ 

With a snap of his fingers, your world exploded into neon stripes. Your room spun away to be replaced by a 80s-esque dance studio, the backdrop a mix of zigzags and bright colors, fuzzing your vision up. In the middle of the room, BJ was dressed in neon green arm and leg warmers with neon purple bodysuit; And hands on his hips in a sassy gesture.

Well this is a sight you’d take to the neitherworld. 

‘Alright babes! Put your hands up and stretch up high! Let's tire those muscles out!’ His feet moved rapidly, spinning like a ballerina and stomping to an invisible beat. Bewildered, you tried to recreate whatever in the world he’s doing but you kept tripping, eventually landing flat on your ass. ‘Beej, take me HOME!’ You cried. He turned to you, huffing and puffing with the effort of his improv-ed dancing. ‘Aw, just when I was having fun…’ He lamented. But as you requested, he snapped again and your room reappeared before you. You steadied yourself on the headboard of the bed. You tugged off and flung the neon pink headband you only just realized you had on when your gaze shifted to Beetlejuice.

He looked a little hurt. Eyes darting away from you, fiddling with his tie. You hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, you were just so tired that you didn't have the sense of humor for his shenanigans in you. He was genuinely trying to help, after all. 

‘BJ…’ You started. ‘Yeah?’ He perked up.

You plopped on the edge of your bed, sagging as the fatigue returned at your lack of motion. ‘I’m sorry I was so harsh. I just… Honestly, the best thing you can do right now is just cuddle me. Silently. Please?’ 

He nodded vigorously, and suddenly his mouth was a zipper and fastened itself closed  with a ‘swiipp’. ‘’Mhmph-hmm!’ He mumbled; His voice, obviously, obstructed by the zipper. 

No matter the state you were in, this goofy ghost always managed to make you laugh.

‘Heh, c’mere.’ You stretched your arms out toward him and he readily dove into your embrace.

The soft chill of his arms was a welcome feeling. You pulled up the covers to both your shoulders, while his hand came up to stroke your hair. Like the clingy specter he is, he wrapped his arms and legs around your waist and clutched you like a parasite. It restricted your breathing a bit, but one look at his adorable face snuggling into your neck had you melting. You didn't have the heart to make him move. 

(1 hour later)

BJ

You're so beautiful. Well, you’re always beautiful, but especially now. It’s been TORTURE just sittin’ here not talking or anything! But I guess if you can sleep it's worth it… now just let me-oops, didn't mean to bump your nose there, Sorry, Y/N. Pleaseee stay asleep-there we go. *smack* free access for forehead kisses. Love ya, babes. Nighty-night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOO

can you tell I had fun with this one?

RS has the privilege of calling the 80s dance studio setting her own idea~

Credit where it's due: L and RS, who beta read and gave me suggestions (and a lot of laughs)

@accidentalnh2cl, this is for you! I hope you like it!

And off we go! I'll get started on the next one tomorrow.

luv y'all!

-Rea ❤

[jackalopc]

TRIPLE FRONTIER TIMELINE INFO (+ My Personal Take on the Timeline)

UPDATED: 30MAY25

Hey so this is now outdated, in comparison to my Ao3 version. please check it out on Ao3 for the full experience + to always have access to new versions as I have already made one major update and more will be coming soon! it's also just better formatted, et cetera.

You can also read this on ellipsus, here. It's just a little neater + navigation via the outline.

I approach any level of meta and theory-crafting with the first rule being: Assume as little as possible (to start). I do my best to work off as little assumptions as possible, making as few leaps as required; unless something truly does not work out then I will then move on to another possible solution. But even then, I strive to stay as close as logically possible to the source material. I would personally rather figure out how to make something work within canon that still makes sense, than break canon to fit something I like.

In addition, I will do everything in my power to keep everything in the ‘Canon Info’ section as free of personal opinion as possible and as little speculation as possible. I will then of course blatantly point out anything that isn’t explicitly canon, as such, et cetera.

Anything labeled “Technical Nitpick:” will just be me pointing out more technical, well, nitpicks. But this is more to emphasize certain points or point out conflicting information as needed; not to just auto ‘this can’t be true’.

Dates will be labeled as such ##MON## with the first two ## being the day of the month, MON being the first three letters of the month, and the last two ## being the last two numbers of the year. ex: 31MAR16 = March 31st, 2016

Canon Info + Evidence Relating to Time + Place

The events of Triple Frontier by all accounts, appear to take place in late March 2016 to a little more than one week into April 2016.

Time

Redfly’s bill has the statement date & due dates as “25MAR” and “01APR” respectively.

The last digits of the years are too blurry to make out, at least in the pictures i’ve seen, but they do look like they say 2016. At minimum we can tell that it takes place during the mid to late 2010’s.

Lorea’s men are watching a soccer game during the movie. People have pointed out is a real match and appears to be one between Colombia & Ecuador, that is most likely one that took place on 31MAR16.

Technical Nitpick: 31MAR16 falls on a Thursday, not a Sunday. However we don’t know if the game was live or not when it was being watched, as it’s possible it could have been recorded or a re-run of the game a few days prior. But the game’s time at the very end of MAR16, still overall supports the confirmation of time frame.

Shortly after Redfly’s death, we’re told the team is 5 days late in terms of when they were meant to get to the boat that would then take them the final leg to Chile.

random aside: movies that don't span massive amounts of time also often try to release around the same time the movie takes place; so being released in March also helps back up the months it takes place.

Location(s)

We know that Redfly, Redfly’s family (two daughters + ex-wife), Ironhead, Ben, Catfish, and Catfish’s lady & child, all reside in or close to Tampa, Florida, USA. More than likely all reside within Pinellas County.

Ben’s t-shirt for his MMA fight league has the area code for 727/Pinellas County. You can see the address for Redfly’s old home (where his ex-wife and daughters currently live), on the bill.

CREDIT: A massive thank you @dameronscopilot for pointing this out.

Other than his presence there, we do not have any confirmation of where Catfish lives. However, it seems likely then, just by Catfish also being there at the fight that he likely also lives nearby/within reasonable travel distance. More than likely he also lives in Pinellas County.

EDIT (05MAR25): this match could take place on the weekend or... idk something. it doesn't really make sense why tess is going to school but then the match is happening and everyone is seemingly daydrinking as a friend pointed out and honestly it doesnt really make sense. but frankly i don't think this changes anything significantly and would still fit into my personal timeline below if it took place on the weekend. EITHER WAY, CATFISH PROBABLY ALSO LIVES CLOSE BY THATS ALL I'M TRYING TO SAY. Especially as the fight takes place in the early morning (Tess is only just being dropped off at school just before it); and when this doesn’t appear to be any kind of ‘special’ match for Ben.

CREDIT: thanks to @criticalarchitecture for pointing this out

We know Pope has been in Colombia for, at minimum, the last three years.

Misc Notes

It is important to remember, that even with the very slight delay in the mansion: they were still completely on schedule in terms of their grand plan, up until the moment they crashed. It was not until that point did any major change happen that actually added significant time to their plan.

It’s also important to remember that these men are hauling ass. They are sleeping absolute bare minimum and traveling to get from Lorea’s to their destination as quickly as possible. Not only are they capable they’re literally trained to do this. The only moments they are not physically moving is when they’re stopping to catch what are essentially not terribly far off from cat naps; so they’re traveling even during most of the nights.

They are also likely sleeping in shifts to maintain a watch, especially when they know they’re being hunted because of their heist. Which means at least one person is awake while the others sleep and switch out periodically.

Jack's Personal Timeline:

TLDR: The events of the movie (Pope recruiting the team to them saying goodbye in Chile) likely take place sometime between 25MAR16-13APR16; with a few days-worth of of padding to account for travel, prep, recoup, and us not knowing 100% when Pope arrives in Tampa. This is easily the most generous possible version of the timeline.

(full timeline breakdown under the cut)

25-29MAR16

Sometime during these dates, Pope arrives back in Tampa and see’s everyone.

This leaves a minimum 1 day gap between Pope’s arrival + the ‘Thursday’ he mentions for them leaving. 25MAR16 is the previous Friday so, this would track.

31MAR16 - 01APR16 (Thursday-Friday) - Travel + Recce

The team leaves for Colombia & do the recce.

Redfly mentions, post-recce and dinner, they’d need the heavy-lift helicopter within “32 hours”. Since they would need it for the upcoming Sunday, which is the 03APR16. More than likely then, their travel time + the recce took them from Thursday and into Friday (31MAR16 - 01APR16).

It is during the recce that Yovanna gets the information they need to confirm the money is in the mansion.

02APR16 (Saturday) - Preparations

This gives them at least one full day (Saturday) to prep and get the info from Yovanna.

Prep Day, the team meets at the shipyard to get their gear. That morning Yovanna got Pope the footage/pictures + he requested the van from her.

03APR16 (Sunday) - The Day of the Heist

The heist takes place early morning.

Post-heist, they drive some distance to the air field, weigh/load, take off.

They make it to Peru in the late night, where they drop of Yovanna and her brother. Probably refuel, take off.

Catfish says that it will take about 4 hours to get to the mountains where they’ll have to go higher.

April 4th (Monday) - The Day of the Crash

They’re crossing over the Andes when they crash. Presumably approx 4 hours as Catfish stated, after dropping Yovanna and her brother off.

Their original timeline to get to the boat was most likely this day.

Please note from here it gets a little wonky as there are a lot more overlapping events and save for a single moment, we’re not given a particularly solid idea of timeline.

April 4th-10th (Monday-Saturday) - Travel

Redfly most likely dies around 07-08APR16.

Due to the crash, they are five days late to the boat they had scheduled. I personally believe they go on to actually get on the boat into the very early morning on the 6th day late (April 10th).

More than likely they reach their destination within the same day they take off on the boat.

Post-10APR16 - Meeting with Pope’s agency contact in Chile

They meet with Pope’s contact who arranges the money for the team.

By my best guess, this most likely takes place about a day or so after of them arriving in Chile. I would personally estimate about 2-3 days, so sometime between the 11-13APR16.

This is just enough time for the men to:

Hand over the money for the contact/lawyer to count; for said lawyer to write up the last minute documents for the Redfly trust, and have arrangements to be made for Redfly’s body; get at least one night/day to clean up, rest, and for them (and especially Ironhead) to seek medical attention.

Within the next 24-48 hours post-meeting, presumably, they all end up on flights to their destinations. Back home to Tampa, FL for the Miller’s and Catfish; and Australia for Pope.

[i2rizz]

Atlanta Lock AU Pt.3

Fandom: Blue lock | masterlist

Characters: atlanta lock!Nagi x reader

Im having way too much fun w this AU

------------‐---------------------------------------

The first time you heard about Nagi’s “hustle,” you were lounging in his makeshift office, which, in reality, was just the couch in the back room of O Block’s bodega. You were halfway through a soda (that probably wasn’t paid for) when Nagi, with his usual lazy energy, leaned over to show you his latest "business venture."

“Got a new plan,” Nagi muttered, tapping on his phone with that sleepy intensity he always had when it came to his latest schemes.

You glanced up, not surprised but mildly concerned. “Okay, hit me. What is it this time? Stealing cars? Reselling sneakers?”

Nagi shrugged, unfazed by your skepticism. “Nope. Something easier.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Let me guess—digital ramen?”

“Better,” he said, a hint of smugness creeping into his voice. “NFTs.”

You blinked at him. “NFTs?”

“Yeah,” Nagi said, not really explaining but still flipping his phone around to show you a badly photoshopped graphic. It was a pixelated image of a brick, with the words “EXCLUSIVE GANG NFT” plastered across it. “Art. But, like...gangster art.”

You stared at it for a long beat. “This is a joke, right?”

“Nope,” Nagi replied, popping a Pocky stick into his mouth and leaning back as though he just invented the next big thing.

“People are gonna pay for this?” you asked, half-laughing, half-dying inside.

“Mm-hmm,” Nagi said lazily. “It’s a status thing. Only a few available. Like limited edition.”

You shook your head. “Okay, but...where are you even gonna sell them?”

Reo appeared from behind the shelves, holding a stack of flyers. “I got the marketing down,” he said, flashing a grin that screamed “I’m ready to make this an empire.”

Somehow, against all logic and reason, Nagi’s “gang NFT” scheme started to take off.

It all started when Reo started printing flyers that were handed out in random alleyways, on street corners, and honestly, anywhere people gathered in O Block. The flyer promised “Exclusive Gang NFT Drops” with a link to Nagi’s barely functional website. And to your absolute disbelief, people actually started buying them.

“See?” Nagi said as he showed you his phone, where the sales notifications kept popping up. “Easy money.”

“But... it’s just a picture of a brick,” you said, still not sure if you were in a fever dream.

“It’s a rare brick,” he deadpanned. “You wouldn’t understand.”

You groaned, but to be fair, there were actual sales happening. Nagi’s “gang art” was going viral within O Block, which meant he was making enough cash to fund his endless supply of snacks.

As the days passed, things started getting too crazy. Not just the sales, but the sudden influx of people trying to resell their “Nagi NFTs” for triple the price. It started to get out of hand, and that’s when things got tense.

One evening, you were sitting outside, watching the usual chaos of O Block unfold in front of you, when Reo came running over, looking like he’d just seen a ghost.

“Nagi, bro,” Reo said, out of breath. “People are flipping your NFTs for crazy prices. The whole block’s buying in. We might’ve started a real trend.”

Nagi blinked slowly. “So... they’re all dumb?”

Reo didn’t even answer. “There’s a bidding war going on for your NFTs. Everyone wants a piece. You need to act fast before someone catches on that this is... well, just a scam.”

Nagi didn’t seem phased at all. “Nah, we’re fine. I’m in too deep to care now. Just keep selling.”

But as the “gangster NFTs” started circulating beyond O Block, the word got out. And as you would expect, other “gangs” started trying to get in on the action. Nagi didn’t even realize he’d become part of a much bigger problem until he was suddenly dealing with rival groups, trying to snatch up his idea for themselves.

“That’s it, Nagi,” you said, standing in the middle of O Block one evening as a few guys from other areas tried to buy out the rights to his NFTs. “This is too much. They’re gonna think we’re messing with them. You need to stop.”

But Nagi just yawned, unfazed by the growing tension. “Nah. We’ve got this.”

He was completely out of touch with reality—until it all went south.

Everything came crashing down one night when a local rival gang, who had been watching Nagi’s “NFT empire” rise, decided to “invite” him to a little chat about copyright and street-level royalties.

You were right beside him when the whole situation turned ugly. A couple of guys walked up to him in the middle of a street corner, all muscle and attitude.

“You’re the one with the NFTs, huh?” one of them asked, crossing his arms.

Nagi didn’t even look up from his phone. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“You know, that’s our turf, right?” another guy said, taking a step forward. “We don’t like you messing with our territory.”

Nagi’s reply was a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just art, man. Chill.”

“Art?” The guy sneered. “You’re making money off of our turf, and you think it’s just ‘art’? You got some nerve.”

You could see it escalating, but Nagi wasn’t even remotely worried. “Well, too bad. You can’t stop the hustle.”

And just like that, the situation flipped into full-blown chaos. The other gang made a move to intimidate him, but Nagi just lazily sidestepped them, clearly not phased by the tension. You, however, weren’t in the mood to get caught in the crossfire.

“Let’s go, Nagi,” you said, pulling on his sleeve. “This isn’t worth it.”

Nagi gave you a sidelong glance, looking completely unbothered. “You’re right. I can just make more NFTs tomorrow.”

The next day, you found Nagi lounging on his couch, no worse for wear. He had somehow managed to avoid any real damage, and his “NFT empire” had taken a hit, but he didn’t care. He was already onto his next lazy plan.

“Well, that was an adventure,” you sighed, sitting down next to him. “So, what now?”

“Eh, I think I’ll stick to real art next time,” he said, yawning. “Maybe a picture of a pizza or something.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yep. And I’m still making money. Wanna help me with the next one?”

You groaned, slapping his arm. “No way. I’m done with your schemes, Nagi.”

“Too late,” he grinned. “We’re partners.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing that somehow, you were already too deep in his world to back out now.

------------‐---------------------------------------

[thiswasinevitableid]

Aim True (Bridglar)

The runner-up of the "country loves songs" prompt poll was: Trick Shot

Virginia City gets cheesier every year. John is just glad the worst of the Nevada heat hasn’t made an early appearance; last year, it reached triple digits in spite of it being only May. 

“Mr. Bridgens!” Three of his students wave to him from in front of the “Olde West Shooting Gallery.”

Why they’re attempting a middle English spelling in a state that never saw a British colony is beyond him, but he waves back as he crosses the road to join them. 

Ostensibly, this field trip is to cap off the senior year with a celebration of Nevada history. John doubts more than a handful of students see it as anything other than a chance to spend the day browsing souvenir shops, daring each other to go into the plethora of haunted hotels, and gorging on ice cream and caramel apples. But they look forward to it, and he does like seeing the young minds he’s shepherded through AP or standard English have a day to just be young and carefree. 

Principal Franklin sets only three mandatory events for the day: getting to the bus on time, getting back on the bus on time to depart, and seeing the live “Wild West” show.

The trio of students tells him all about the Silver Queen as they find seats in the open-air theater. John ends up between Franklin and James Fitzjames, the drama teacher. He wishes he’d taken a cue from VP Crozier and brought a large hat; the sun is baking his scalp, and the flies keep buzzing past his ears. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, cowpokes of all ages, prepare for the wildest show this side of the Rockies!”

The crowd cheers with mild enthusiasm; it’s only the 11am show, after all. No one has had time to imbibe from the saloons lining the street. Not that John would anyway; he’d sooner die than be a derelict chaperone. 

A stetson-bearing figure bursts through the central curtains and the staff, and a few of the seniors, hoot and clap. Thomas Blanky, former and much beloved shop teacher, gives an exaggerated bow before launching into the same speech he gives every year.

“Howdy folks! We’re just plum tickled you could join us all on this fine, Friday mornin’. We got a real fine show for you today full of sharp shootin, trick ropin’, and the prettiest face in the west” he winks, “the rest of my troop ain’t bad either.”

Bad accent aside, John enjoys seeing his old colleague acting the ham. Blanky runs through a handful of mildly impressive trick shots, including popping balloons taped to the hats of his fellow performers. 

Next is a comedy act involving a literal dog and pony (and a cockatoo), the handler going by Irving insisting that the routine is wholesome while his co-presenter and the exotic bird do everything they can to undermine this assertion. 

The third act earns an incredibly loud cheer from James and Francis, as well as from the rather odd duo behind them of Goodsir (biology) and Collins (P.E). Lady Silence, as Blanky calls her, steps onto stage, and John is tickled to see she’s sporting period-accurate Shoshone clothing. Her act consists of more elaborate trick shots, all of which she does without uttering even a peep of fear while permitting a tarantula, then a scorpion, then a rattlesnake (“really a gopher snake” Francis mutters, only to be elbowed by James) to climb on her arms and hands.

When Lady Silence is done, she’s followed off stage by the loudest cheers so far, including a “Brava” from Goodsir. 

Act number four sets John's heart beating quicker; knife throwing has always struck him as one of the more dangerous endeavors one could pursue. It doesn’t help that Mr. Irving is back, looking a bit too convincingly terrified as one Mr. Hickey outlines his silhouette with knives. When both men exit in one piece, he relaxes and listens to Blanky introduce the final act. 

“And now, to close out our show, the amazing, whip-smart, hawk-eyed, Harry Peglar!”

John’s heart speeds up again. 

The man smiling out at the crowd with quiet showmanship and earnest excitement has the most handsome face he’s ever had the pleasure to see. 

Harry tips his hat and proceeds to shoot smaller and smaller targets from the air. The coin shot is so impressive that he even hands it to Crozier to inspect before and after the shot. As he straightens and tucks the coin into his pocket, his eyes fall onto John

“For this next trick, I need a charming assistant. How about you, sir?” 

John blushes, his instinct to demur, but both Franklin and James urge him forward, and so he allows Harry to pull him up onto the stage. Some of his students cheer, and he can tell without looking that many phones are pointed his way. 

“What’s your name, sir?”

God, does the man have to address him that way? He can only pass so much pink off as 

sunburn. 

“John.”

“Tell me, John, do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Good man.” Harry claps him once, friendly, on the shoulder, “you do, however, know what one of these are?” He produces a cigarette from his pocket. 

“Yes.” He smiles, “I said I don’t, not that I never.”

Audible shock from some of the students earns a laugh from the crowd. 

“Are you willing to hold this in your mouth for me? It won’t be there very long.”

John obligingly parts his lips only to realize, belatedly, that Harry meant for him to take it from his fingers. Without missing a beat, the trick shooter places it against his lower lip with a grin. 

“Now, John, I have another question. Do you know what this is?”

He holds a bullwhip up to the crowd to “oohs” and “ahhs.” John, slightly distracted wondering where the man had been hiding the implement, nods. He’s fairly certain James is cheering extra-excitedly; he did make John watch all four Indiana Jones films. 

“Here’s what I’m going to do, John. I’m going to light that cigarette for you. And before you even have a chance to inhale, I’m going to put it out from all the way over there.” He gestures eight feet to his right.

Harry looks over his shoulder, still audible to the crowd but with clear sincerity, “Do I have your permission, John?”

He nods again, trying not to imagine all the other things he’d grant Harry permission to do if he gave him that same look once more. 

“Wonderful! Let’s have some cheers for my brave volunteer!”

He uses the cacophony to huddle in close to John, who steadies the unlit cigarette steady with his fingers so the younger man can click a tarnished Zippo beneath it. Then, in a blink, he’s out of reach, unfurling the whip and testing it, bantering with the crowd but keeping his focus clearly on John. 

“Ready, John?”

Not knowing what else to do and feeling too tense to nod, he offers a thumbs up. 

“Hold still now, I’ll have that out for you in three, two, one.”

Crack

His ears ring, though the claps from the crown and the lack of any blood on his face tell him Harry managed his trick beautifully. He holds up the remainder of the cigarette, increasing the cheers. 

“Well done, John!” Harry practically bounds up to him, “let’s give him one more round of applause, folks!”

John means to leave the stage to the performers once more, but before he can, Harry grabs his hand and brings him down into a bow along with him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There’s an hour left to go on the field trip, and John is an extremely icy cold brew that Fitzjames treated him to. Most of the students are staying close to main street, finishing up their last purchases and taking endless pictures of each other.

“They were a fun crowd.”

He turns to find Harry leaning against a streetlight, still in his cowboy costume, ten times more handsome than anyone who ever played the role on screen “school groups can be hit or miss.”

“I’m glad as well; an excellent show deserves an appreciative audience.”

“Easy to put on a good show when you’ve got good help. I, um” he reaches into his pocket, “I have to go get ready for the show at two, but I meant to give you this before you hopped off stage. I always like to give it to my volunteer for that trick. This time I was a little flustered and forgot.”

Harry holds out the coin from his sharpshooting trick, dropping it into John’s palm. 

“Oh, I-” He’s not sure if he means to protest, or say thank you, but Harry cuts him off by closing his palm for him, keeping his own hand around it.

“Something to remember me by.”

A flash of a smile, followed by someone shouting his name from across the way, and then he’s gone. John stands, watching him walk toward the theater, and savoring the ghost of those fingers around his own. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Late June finds him back in a much hotter Virginia City, the sun refusing to drop behind the mountains quickly enough to provide a much needed respite from the glare. He hadn’t expected to visit again so soon, but Silna and Goodsir invited him to meet them for dinner; the Delta Saloon has begun serving a special, twice-monthly menu of period accurate fare and he’s very excited to see if it’s any good. 

Arriving early–there’s been bad traffic the last two days so he erred on the side of caution–leaves him ample time to ponder the historical artifacts tucked away in the corners of the saloon. He’s reading the plaque on the “suicide table” when a figure steps beside him. 

“Anticlimactic, I always thought.” 

Harry smiles when John looks his way, the undercurrent noticeably changing from friendliness to hope when John smiles back. He’s dressed in modern clothing; a black tank top, tan shorts, and ankle hiking boots (much better protection against the dust, pebbles, and sunburn than the sandals of most of the visitors). 

“The story” Harry continues, “that it’s named that when what happened is one or two people might have killed themselves because of losing money at it, not because someone used it in one, or died right on the wood. Besides, if that’s the bar for calling something a suicide table, I’d bet half the slot machines from here to Vegas need the same plaque.”

“Agreed. Though I do enjoy the thought of preserving some piece of the past, even if it’s to make salacious signs about it.”

“Did you come all the way back just to read our signs?” Harry says with a hint of cheek. 

“That depends on if there are any you think I’d like.” He turns full-on toward Harry, who aims for a subtle looking him over and fails.

When his phone buzzes, he considers dropping it in the nearest pitcher of water. 

“One moment, I’m meeting Silna and Harry, other Harry, that might be them.” 

H. Goodsir: Running late, courtesy of the majesty of nature.

Attached is a photo of a herd of mustangs, who seem utterly disinterested in moving from both lanes of Highway 50. He shows it to Harry, adding, “That’s not sarcasm; the man is delighted any time he sees the native wildlife. Which doesn’t always end well; we were driving to a conference in Tahoe once and he stopped to look at a large black bear. Still in the car, of course, but poor Mr. Collins was still rather stressed by the proximity.”

Harry laughs, then tilts his head towards the bar, “Sounds like we might have time for a drink?”

“I’d say so.”

John orders a gin and tonic, paying for Harry’s lager with a playful, “they don’t pay teachers that poorly” when the younger man tells him he doesn’t have to. 

“What do you teach? I didn’t get the chance to ask and I’d been wondering.”

“English, two classes of honors and the rest for seniors and a handful of juniors.”

“I hope they get on better with you than I did with mine; we got into an argument over Tess of the D’urbervilles and I’m not sure he ever got over it. The dyslexia didn’t help; he thought I wasn’t applying myself.”

“That’s a shame. There are lots of ways to assist students who struggle with reading, for any reason. And as a teacher, I’d argue it’s part of the job to make sure you do.” He sips his drink, “may I ask what the argument was?”

“I just thought it was worth talking about how Hardy has a lot of opinions on farming and morality for a man who probably never did any farm work. All well and good to talk about the evils of modernization taking us away from nature, but acting like the things that make running a farm ten times easier are evil because they don’t match your imagined idea of the life seemed…shallow. And I thought that might be an interesting angle to look at the book from. Mr. Thompson disagreed.”

“I happen to think it’s an excellent point.”

A shrug and a sweet smile, “Might have just come to me because I grew up on a farm. You grow up shoveling cow shit, you have some thoughts on the pastoral.” He flinches, “pardon my french.”

“Harry, I was in the navy for ten years, I’ve heard profanity that would make the devil faint.”

“That’s why you have tattoos. I noticed them during the show and, um” he takes another sip, licking his lips after in what’s either an automatic motion or a bid to drive John mad with desire, “I’ve been thinking about them ever since.”

He forces himself not to say that if he’s a very good boy, Harry might get to see the rest. This can just be a friendly drink. If Harry wants it to be more that’s for him to decide. John won’t push it. 

“None of your own?”

“Not yet. I want to get a line of poetry but I haven’t decided on which.”

John is very glad for this; if he’d managed to get Harry into bed only to find lines from one of the greats etched into his skin, he might have fainted. 

“Who are the contenders?”

A snicker, “Thomas Hardy, for one. I do love his poems about nature. I like Whitman too, but it’s so hard to choose…”

They spend a good half-hour discussing the merits, and ironies, or tattooing varies stanzas onto oneself. By the time Goodsir taps him on the shoulder, they’re leaning far enough towards each other that his glass nearly hits Harry’s jaw when he jolts in surprise. 

“I was starting to worry you’d be stuck there all night.”

“I’m sure.” Goodsir says with a smile and a glance at Harry that suggests he doesn’t fully believe him, “they eventually realized there were better places to rest their hooves. I got some wonderful pictures though.”

“You’re going to run out of memory at this rate. Again.” Silna keeps her amused look as she adds, “do you want to eat with us, Henry?”

“Oh no, I don’t want to intrude, I was just keeping John occupied while you got here. I ought to be going, it’s not the longest drive back to Dayton but I’ve got a mountain of chores to do. I’ll see you tomorrow, Silna. Nice to see you, Harry, and it was wonderful talking with you John.” He offers a final, parting smile. John watches him go once more, wondering if doing so makes him lecherous, or if he even cares if it does. At the door, Harry pauses, looking back, and his face brightens when he sees John is looking at him. Then he winks and steps into the finally cooling air.

“Your right pocket.” Goodsir murmurs as the waiter leads them to a table.

John ventures a hand into his shorts and finds a slip of saloon napkin next to the coin, the one he’s been carrying like a lucky charm for a month. 

Give me a call

It’s followed by a phone number. Harry didn’t have a chance to write it while they were talking, which means he must have done it the moment he saw John in the bar. 

Silna shakes her head, “I told him I could just give it to you for him.”

“You trick shooters, you do have a flair for the dramatic.” Goodsir pulls out her chair. 

“If we didn't, no one would watch.”

John lets them banter for the moment. After all, he has to attend to the pressing matter of asking if Harry would like to join him for coffee tomorrow.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Vale Fashion Award

Requested Here by @boozy-the-ghost!

Characters: Victor Vale, Eli Cardale/Ever, Angie Knight

Summary: Victor Vale cannot handle heat, and he accidentally shows Eli that weak spot during a heat wave at Lockland.

Warnings: just banter and a bit of comfort! 1.3k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Victor Vale Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest (what I imagine Victor wears daily)

The best part of Lockland’s gothic style, Victor thinks, is that the surrounding environment seems to bend to its darkened will. Dark and cool clouds often paint the sky behind the country club-esque architecture of the university, and the mature trees offer a cooling yet eerie breeze during the warmer spring days.

But, like Victor, Lockland has a mind of its own and doesn’t wait for permission to change. The clouds have disappeared overnight as if driven away by some unseen force aiming its burning intent directly at Victor Vale. With the sun shining brightly on the campus and a heat index that feels like it is nearing the boiling point, Victor wholly believes that some power is out to get him. That does not, however, stop him from dressing as usual: monochromatic, dark, Parisian, and perhaps most detrimental, layered. Which, though obviously a bad idea given the weather, is a staple of Victor’s carefully constructed appearance of his outward persona. Without it, who knows what the world may see.

“Maybe it’s a thyroid issue,” Eli muses over a cup of some iced caffeine-free monstrosity.

“Don’t listen to him,” Angie adds from her spot at the table. “You look good, Vic, you always do, but… isn’t it a bit hot for all that?”

Victor looks down at his outfit and then to the window. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’re wearing all black, you’re a walking heat absorber,” Eli scoffs. “Just lose a couple layers.”

“Or maybe just the jacket?” Angie suggests, her tone kinder and less demanding. “It’s intense out there, and I don’t want you to get dehydrated or overheat.”

“She dressed for the weather,” Eli points out, gesturing blindly to Angie’s skirt.

“And Eli dressed to be even more of a pain than usual,” Angie retorts. “He looks like the frat boy he dreams of being.”

Eli shakes his head as he flips a page in his textbook. “We’re going to be late, Victor, so change now or let’s go.”

Victor nods once, then tosses his jacket onto his bed. He’s still in long sleeves, pants, dress shoes, and far too much black for the triple-digit (Fahrenheit) heat he is preparing to enter. “Let’s go.”

“Finally,” Eli groans as he opens the door. “We’ll just walk to the restaurant because the buses with be awful today.”

“Not a fan of being packed in with the lesser humans, Eli?” Angie teases.

“He’s not a fan of humans at all,” Victor mumbles.

Angie laughs as she bumps her shoulder against Victor’s arm. His gaze softens as he watches her move, but after a few steps in the sunlight, he begins to feel the effect of the heat she warned him about.

“Can’t we go somewhere closer?” Victor asks.

“I told you to change!” Eli replies. “It’s not my fault you can’t take a little heat. House cats gotta house cat, right?”

Victor clenches his jaw at Eli’s teasing tone. He’s complaining because he can feel the heat sucking the energy from his body, not because he’s weak. If Eli can’t see that by now, he’s not as smart as Victor thought.

“Eli, we-“ Victor begins.

“Come on, stop whining! This is a tradition and we’re not going to break tradition because your cheeks are getting pink,” Eli interrupts.

Victor drops his chin; he can feel the sensitive skin of his face warming and beginning to sting, but knowing that there’s evidence of his misery is far worse than how the sunburn itself feels.

“I was just going to say,” Victor begins again, his voice firm, “that we should get ice cream on the way back. Since you seem caught up on the heat, too.”

“Ooh, that sounds good!” Angie cheers. “There’s a shop just past my dorm that has the best desserts, not just ice cream.”

“Sounds good,” Eli agrees, though his gaze is on Victor.

Victor’s cheeks are pink; that wasn’t just a jab to get under his skin. But as Eli watches him now, he notices that Victor’s gait shifts, as if he’s off balance, and his eyes seem unfocused on the sidewalk below him. He’d been watching Angie at first, but the last few minutes in the heat have affected Victor. Yet, Eli finds another opportunity to remind Victor of something heat and evil have in common.

“Do you think this is what it feels like in purgatory?” Eli asks.

“Eli!” Angie chides. “Don’t be so morbid.”

“I’d imagine it hurts a whole lot worse than some pink cheeks,” Victor replies. “But Angie’s right. We’re here to hang out, not talk about who wins.”

“Wins?” Angie repeats.

“Good versus evil,” Eli rushes to say. “Anyway, what are you getting at the dessert shop?”

“An ice bath,” Victor murmurs under his breath.

When Victor steps out of the air-conditioned restaurant, it feels as if every drop of moisture evaporates from his body. He’s dizzy, unfocused, having trouble breathing, and ready to collapse. There’s no reason to complain because Eli and Angie don’t understand. In their appropriate warm weather attire, they will never comprehend that Victor doesn’t dress like this only because he likes it but because it is a mirrored prison of his own creation. No matter how hot it gets, this is better than the alternative of showing his metaphorical soft side.

“You alright, Vic?” Angie asks as they near the dorm buildings. “You look a little flushed.”

“Overheated?” Eli guesses.

“Just a little warm,” Victor answers quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow, boys. Call me later if you need another break from the heat!” Angie calls as she waves.

Victor doesn’t linger to watch her disappear from sight like usual. Instead, he rushes inside, ignorant of Eli following closely behind. When Victor runs into a chair sitting in the same spot since Eli moved in, Eli knows something is wrong.

“Vic, you alright?” he inquires.

Victor turns toward Eli and nods. He grips the chair beside him tightly, and his cheeks are no longer pink but a bright red contrast to the paleness under his eyes. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and Victor grasps his head as he shakily lowers into the chair.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Eli says as he moves toward the small kitchen.

“I did!” Victor defends, though his speech is slowed. “I can feel my heartbeat in my brain. Is that telling you enough?”

“Take your shirt off.”

“Excuse me?”

Eli returns with a glass of water and several wet cloths.

“Stop being so… so Victor. You have more clothes on and it’s just us. You’re not going to feel better until you cool off.”

“How would you know?” Victor asks as he pulls the black button-down off his shoulders.

“Spotting heat exhaustion isn’t rocket science, Vic. Put this on your forehead and chill out. Figuratively and literally.”

Victor snatches the cool cloth from Eli’s hand and places it over his eyes and forehead. Nearly immediately, his headache eases, though it doesn’t go away.

“Sit still,” Eli requests as he places a touchless thermometer against Victor’s wrist. “Congratulations, Vale, your questionable fashion sense just got you heat stroke.”

“What is it?” Victor asks without moving.

“104 Fahrenheit,” Eli says. “So, you need to take off more clothes, keep those cool cloths on your skin and rehydrate.”

“Thanks,” Victor breathes out, hoping Eli doesn’t hear him. “I’ll go to my room.”

“Sure you will. And, hey, next time? Just listen to me.”

“Which part? The ‘take off your shirt’ or the ‘stop complaining’?”

“Both!” Eli yells as he enters his room. “Call me if you need anything.”

Victor mentally rolls his eyes as he sits up. The room spins around him momentarily, and then he carefully carries the water and two fresh washcloths into his room. His coat remains on his bed, seeming to laugh at his state.

He removes a few more layers of clothing in the privacy of his room, then reclines in his desk chair. Something hits the window, and Victor sees a cat licking its fur to cool in the shade.

“Rub it in,” Victor mumbles grumpily as he rocks back in his chair to feel the ceiling fan above him.

[thegettingbyp2]

Also continuing the last request of Musiccal theatre actress reader! Going to phantom, Austin and the cast of Elvis being invited to the final dress rehearsal! (Also maybe a special appearence of Ramin Karimloo playing the phantom. You don't have to add that my lovely!)

You Did This!

You spent your closing night in Les Mis with tears clouding your vision. It had been a dream come true that your first ever professional West End job had been your dream role in your dream show, so it was bitter sweet that you were leaving but you were leaving for a job you’d never thought you’d get; Christine in The Phantom of the Opera.

There wasn’t anyone prouder of you than your boyfriend, Austin; he spent the entire time you were having celebratory drinks with his arm around your waist, bragging to anyone and everyone about how you were moving from one big West End show to another West End show and that him and his cast mates from Elvis had been invited to watch your final dress rehearsal tomorrow before taking to the stage.

The next day you found yourself performing in front of the small crowd, knowing that this was going to be your last chance to get anything wrong before your run as Christine started. It seemed to be going well, you hadn’t messed up, but you were acutely aware of the excited smile that Austin was trying to keep down and it took everything you had to focus on what you were doing and not wonder what was going on with Austin.

It was going so well.

Until it wasn’t your co-star that came on for the title song.

Your breath caught in your throat as you heard an all-too familiar voice as the screen onstage drew back to reveal one of your Broadway heroes dressed as the Phanton; Ramin Karimloo. The song went by in a blur and the moment the song was over, the house lights came up to reveal your small audience on their feet applauding and you looked to the side to see Ramin applauding also.

‘What’s going on?’ you asked, a confused laugh coming from your lips as Austin made his way up onto the stage, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

‘It’s nice to meet you,’ Ramin stepped forward, and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand, ‘Austin’s told me great things.’

‘You did this?!’ You gasped, spinning back around to face Austin who was currently sporting a smug grin.

‘(Y/N), you watch the 25th Anniversary recording of the show at any possible opportunity, I think we’re almost in triple digits for how many times we’ve watched it,’ he teased, quickly stepping backwards when you lightly smacked his stomach, your cheeks turning bright red.

‘Austin messaged me a few weeks ago and told me you were going to be coming into the show so I thought that I’d come by and wish you luck.’

‘Yeah! And then I’ve got to go and do a couple of bits of press with this lot,’ Austin said, gesturing behind him to where his cast mates were talking amongst themselves, ‘so, Ramin had the idea that the two of you could go for coffee and you can pick his brain about anything you need before opening night and I can meet you guys at the coffee shop later?’

You looked between Austin and Ramin, in shock and awe of what was going on right now. You looked to Ramin to see him nodding along with what Austin said and you found yourself agreeing right away, still not quite believing that it was happening.

‘Yeah, that would be great! Thank you so much!’ you said before turning back to Austin, wrapping your arms around his waist and balancing your him on his chest, looking up at him. ‘And thank you for doing this, I love you,’ you said quietly, reaching up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, making Austin hum happily.

‘I love you too,’ he said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, ‘now, go,’ he said, pushing you away slightly, ‘I can’t wait to hear all about it.’ He pressed an over exaggerated kiss to your lips, pulling away with a loud smack, making you laugh as he watched you walk back offstage to get changed.

[amiableness]

closing my requests because we’re in triple digits now BUT they’re always opening for my anons or just to chat 🫶🏼

[daisyfluurwitchcraft]

Moon News Monday

Your girl is BACK (and ik i keep saying that, but sometimes my brain is kinda like “no we’re really not back”. So I hope I post more on here but it won’t be super structured like before. Like I’ll have the categories, just not on a rigid schedule. Your girl’s ADHD can’t do that.)

I also just realized that there’s so much more about witchcraft that I need to learn and have it in my memory fresh before I can continue to relay that information and tbh it’s been stressing me out. Now we’re almost to 100 people following this blog and I feel like a imposter of some sort because of that (the not knowing much about witchcraft, not having almost triple digit followers. thank you for that, btw! you guys are so amazing😭)

But anyway, wanted to let you know Moon News Monday might not just be strictly Moon News anymore (I’m in keeping the name for aesthetic purposes so take that).

But! Tomorrow is the first day of the Strawberry Moon. Peak illumination will be on Wednesday, but over the next three days, it’ll be a good time to collect moon water. I know I will!!

Anyway, thank you so much. Happy witching!!

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The hits just keep on coming with the Harris campaign. It’s almost hard to keep up with the good news.

With that, here we go:

Barack and Michelle Obama issued the following statement this morning:

“Earlier this week, we got a chance to catch up with a friend who we’ve known for more than 20 years. She’d had a pretty busy couple of days, to say the least. But we couldn’t be more excited for her -- or more thrilled to endorse Kamala Harris as the Democratic nominee for President of the United States.

“We agree with President Biden -- choosing Kamala was one of the best decisions he’s made. She has the resume to prove it: As a prosecutor, she defended the Constitution and fought for folks who deserve a fair shake. As California’s Attorney General, she worked hard to ensure everyone was treated fairly, no matter who they are or who they love. As a Senator, she was one of the strongest voices holding the Trump administration accountable. And, as Vice President, she helped lead the charge on expanding the Affordable Care Act, combating climate change, fighting for reproductive freedom, equality, and the rule of law.

“But Kamala has more than a resume. She has the vision, the character, and the strength that this critical moment demands. There is no doubt in our mind that Kamala Harris has exactly what it takes to win this election and deliver for the American people. At a time when the stakes have never been higher, she gives us all reason to hope.

“We know over the next few months, Kamala will continue to make her case directly to the American people -- Democrats, Republicans, and independents alike. As she does, she will have our full support -- and we look forward to watching her unite our party and our country around a vision for a brighter, fairer, more prosperous future.

“We’re going to do everything we can to elect Kamala Harris the next President of the United States. And we hope you’ll join us.”

Harris campaign “Breaks Zoom”:

From the HollywoodReporter - Hundreds of thousands of Kamala Harris supporters have rallied behind the presumptive Democratic nominee this week, with Zoom calls breaking records with six-digit attendance numbers.

The events started Sunday following President Joe Biden’s announcement he would not seek re-election. More than 44,000 Black women joined a call to galvanize supporters for the vice president’s historic run for president, drawing celebrity names — including Yvette Nicole Brown and Jenifer Lewis — and raising an estimated $1.5 million.

The trend continued with thousands of Black men on a call earlier this week (they raised $1.3 million), followed by Zooms for white women, LGBTQ supporters, South Asian supporters and more.

At the white women call Thursday night, there were more than 100,000 participants (officially now 150,000), a number so staggering it caused significant technical glitches that sent many to watch the livestream on YouTube, where more than 25,000 also joined the call. ($10 million was raised)

Hollywood was represented across the interest groups. Mindy Kaling joined the South Asian call, with George Takei, Zachary Quinto, Raven Simone, Sophia Bush, Ashlyn Harris, Brian Michael Smith and Justin Tranter attending the LGBTQ call. (Tranter, the co-writer of Chappell Roan’s “Good Luck Babe,” announced he would donate $20,000 to the cause.)

Katie McGrath, Connie Britton, Pink and more signed on to the white women’s call, with Pink reportedly joining right after leaving the stage of a performance in Sweden.

Another Zoom call, women for Harris, is scheduled for this weekend.

Grace outperforms ignorance:

JoeBiden’s farewell address drew 29 million viewers - nearly triple the number that watch Mushroom Donnie’s acceptsance speech.

Harris points to a different direction regarding Israel and Gaza:

After meetiongwith Netanyahu, Kamal Harris said the following:

"I have met with the families of these American hostages multiple times now, and I've told them each time they are not alone, and I stand with them. And President Biden and I are working every day to bring them home.

"With over 2 million people facing high levels of food insecurity, and half a million people facing catastrophic levels of acute food insecurity. What has happened in Gaza over the past nine months is devastating; the images of dead children and desperate, hungry people fleeing for safety, sometimes displaced for the second, third or fourth time.

"Let us all condemn terrorism and violence. Let us all do what we can to prevent the suffering of innocent civilians. And let us condemn antisemitism, Islamophobia and hate of any kind. And let us work to unite our country."

President Biden has made Val Demmings a Governor of the Postal Service. Can we now finally fire Louis De(no)Joy and restore thePost Office?

We knew Trump was rattled by Kamala’s arrival in the campaign, but we didn’t think he would actually wimp out of the debate. But that’s exactly what the orange chickenshit did yesterday. Making up some silly bullcrap about “Barack Hussein Obama” and flailing like the hopeless loser that he is, Trump has officially backed out of the scheduled debate in September. Vice President Harris is already calling him out and making sure the media knows she is ready to go.

All seven battleground states - AZ, GA, MI, NC, NV, PA, WI - are clearly competitive now and in play. New battleground state polls this week also showed Harris gaining and in a competitive position in all seven states. Polls of Maine and New Hampshire found Harris at Biden 2020 numbers, an election Biden won by 4.5 pts. Simon Rosenberg: “To be honest the movement we are seeing towards Harris this week has been a bit surprising to me. It usually takes a while for big events to work their way through the electorate. So that we are seeing meaningful movement this early is a good sign.”

I’ll end for now with across-post from Kareem Abdul Jabar. I think this has significance for all of us here:

Life is a long lesson in humility.

—James M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan

“Barrie should have added, “If we’re lucky.” By that I mean we’re lucky if our lives last long enough for it to be a “long lesson.” But I also mean we’re lucky to have constant reminders on how to be humble because that makes us empathetic to others and lays a foundation for being able to love and be worthy of being loved. In other words, humility breeds happiness.

“Arrogance is the enemy of humility. That need to feel like we matter beyond the confines of our little world means we can only feel important when validated by others—not by ourselves. Unfortunately, the need for that validation often leads to unhappiness. For many, the only way to feel significant is to chase after some sort of fame or popularity. This can be done through gathering “likes” on social media or by accumulating wealth to flaunt. The idea is that if others are envious, the person has proven they are more significant than those who envy them. This is the math of madness.

“For a happy few, fame is merely a by-product of pursuing personal greatness—not to flaunt but just out of curiosity about how far they can go. This is true of the athlete and the artist, the inventor and the innovator. Their joy comes from their reach exceeding their grasp. It comes from the trying more than the succeeding. This path is littered with failure and humility, which only makes them strive harder. The joy is in the striving, not in the accolades of others. Or as Janis Joplin said, “On stage, I make love to 25,000 different people, then I go home alone.”

For me, being a speck of dust is not an existential burden but a profound relief. It is the great equalizer that reminds us we all face the same challenges of wanting to feel useful, needed, and worthy. Humility teaches us that those challenges are overcome through compassion, kindness, and love for others rather than seeking power over others.

“There is nothing that teaches humility more than aging. The increasing frailties of the body remind me daily just how insignificant so much of what I once thought was important really is. I also am acutely aware of how many opinions I had in my youth and even later that embarrass me today. That humility taught me to form my opinions carefully using facts, experts, and research rather than my biased gut or peer pressure.

“The closing door of life just inspires me to make a positive difference in others’ lives while that door is still open, even if just a crack and I can see light. Humility lights the way.”

You can’t go wrong taking advice from Kareem.

Robert Hubbell has been ending his daily posts with astronomical photos he’s taken. To me, they’re humbling to think a small being on a small planet orbiting a small sun at the edge of a small galaxy can look out at creation and comprehend it. So of course the following is a perfect ending. (Thanks Kareem)

+

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Wincest Wednesdays

for @wincestwednesdays Sept 3rd prompt: Radio

on AO3

“You’re listening to KZSU Stanford at 90.1 FM. I’m Nicole and I’ll be your host for the next hour as we open the lines up for some dedications. This first one is going out to Brad from Angie…”

The coffee shop nearest to his dorm catered mainly to the college crowd and played the campus radio station at a volume that was loud enough to hear when the ambient clatter and hiss and chatter didn’t drown it out.

Sam had developed a habit of studying at a table in the corner, where he had the wall at his back and could see the entire place easily. His father’s voice was still too loud in his head to ignore, barking at him about situational awareness. 

But the noise, rather than being distracting, made it easier for him to focus. Like the act of filtering out the activity around him opened his mind up to remembering, cataloging, making connections in the information. Something about habits developed through childhood made them especially hard to shake, and even when he wasn’t trying to read or do school work in various cafes, diners, and restaurants, he would still need to tune out his brother. Dean who’d always had the tv or radio on, laughing or singing along, or sitting silent and brooding (which somehow was always louder to Sam than anything else).

“We’re dropping way back into the 70’s on this next song with Foghat’s I’ll Be Standing By for Samantha from an anonymous caller. Ooh, watch out Samantha, this one’s giving off creeper vibes.”

~~~

“It’s Tuesday again, so you know what that means! Got a special song for that special someone? Our phone line is open for the next hour, 855-723-9010.”

“Triple shot, soy, flat white!” the barista announced as he slid a cup onto the pick-up counter. 

Sam scooped it up and headed back to his regular table. Sitting down he pulled out his class notes and laptop. He popped the lid off his coffee, so it would cool faster, and got to work. Handwriting in class then transcribing later into a Word doc helped cement the information in his memory, and digital notes were so much easier to search when he was studying for tests. By the time he was finished, he slugged down the rest of his coffee, which had been room temperature for a while now, and started to pack up to go to his next class.

“For our final dedication today Samantha’s anonymous 70’s rock fan is back! This time he’s requested Zeppelin’s Out On the Tiles. So, Samantha, this one’s for you.”

The driving opening riff hit hard and familiar as Sam pushed through the door and strode out onto the sidewalk. A surge of nostalgia smacked a smile on his face as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and tried his best to look like he fit in.

~~~

“Third Tuesday in a row, we’ve got ourselves a regular caller. Samantha, if you’re out there, here’s Telegram Sam by T-Rex.”

~~~

“Oh, Samantha, we’re back in maudlin territory this week. Your anonymous friend requested Dylan’s If You See Her, Say Hello. Maybe check on the people you know, 10:15 in the morning seems a little early to be that drunk.”

Sam was taking both Latin and Greek this semester since he already had a solid grasp of basic Latin and he was taking it because it was a requirement for more advanced classes. He hadn’t been as well versed in Greek so he spent more time going over his notes and working on his translations. 

“Two requests in one show? I think I touched a nerve when I said he sounded drunk. Sam, Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd.”

~~~

“Another Tuesday, another dedication to Studious Samantha from your 70’s classic rock fanboy. So here’s Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Sam, your creeper’s got a nice voice but he seems to be going through a manic phase, watch out.”

~~~

“Okay, Samantha, this is the sixth week in a row and I gotta admit, I’m intrigued by your man’s musical choices. This week he’s dedicating Shame on the Moon by Bob Seger to you.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. It was the Seger song that finally made the pattern click. It had to be. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number he knew by heart. It rang twice.

“Heya, Sammy.”

“Your mix tapes? First and last song on each?”

“Took you long enough. Hey, that Nicole sounds hot, think it’s just her voice or…”

“Jesus, Dean. Did you need something or have you really been calling up a college radio station DJ for a month and a half just to get my attention?”

“Just trying to have a little fun, shoulda known you be pissy about it.”

Sam rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose while Dean was quiet on the other end of the line.

Finally, Sam heard an irritated huff and then, “Whatever, man. Get back to studying, wouldn’t want to bother you.” 

The call disconnected.

Sam sighed and looked at the phone, like he couldn’t believe that was it. He dialed again and it went right to voicemail.

At the beep Sam simply said, “Jerk.” and hung up.

[seldnei]

Taking stock of the writing: 2024

For any new followers: this is my annual post about my writing in the past year.  This is purely for my own mental health–the tag says “seldnei is tired of feeling like a slacker” for a reason.  Please feel free to skip.

2024 was an interesting year that feels like it lasted 2 months, and those 2 months were October and November. We had goal-changing for the kids (Z no longer wants to do theatre for a living, is considering library science, and is planning a gap year while he reassesses; Q has found that school just isn’t their thing right now and is job-hunting); the entire family has decided, between politics and hurricanes, that we’re moving out of Florida; we’re making major procedure changes at work; The Fucking Election … yeah.

But through it all, I wrote.

So, reflection and goals, here we go.

Stories/poems, etc.

“It’s Dangerous to Go Alone,” a short story monologue type deal about the contents of a shop that sells fantasy sidekicks, for FUCKIT. I am very pleased with the miniature boy band.

“The Innumerable Trunks and Thick Boughs O’erhead,” a weird little poem set in the same place as ‘The Forest Speaks of Secrets and the Dead,’ for FUCKIT. Not entirely sure how I feel about this one, but the framing poem about Mr. Brown was just going around and around in my head until I got it out on paper, so.

“The Modern Eurydice: Hecate’s Children,” also for FUCKIT. I love this one. Everything in it should be taken literally. I immortalized all our dogs, up to and including Miss Snoots.

Also wrote some TMA fanfic and had a ball doing so—I got to play a lot with structure and narrative and all that good stuff. Wrote some poetry in my notebook—I’m thinking about maybe doing a chapbook of poetry for the husband at some point.

I blogged about once a month, on average.

I did not get the podcast scripts done, nor did I write any other short fiction (see below for more on that).

Books!

I started self-publishing!

So I’m using Draft2Digital to make the files and handle distribution; so far they’ve been good! I have a hard time understanding the royalty statements? Not sure if that’s me or them, but I’ll be pulling all the reports together for taxes so we’ll see if it makes sense then.

I published a short story collection, The Stars; the Silence, and the first Teachout novel, Cobbler’s Hill.

Cool stuff: my book is in the local library, and not-local libraries have it in their e-collections! It’s in Hoopla! Someone on Goodreads gave the collection 4 stars!

I did not break triple digit sales, but I did sell more than just 3 copies to some friends, so for the first 9 months? I think that’s okay. I learned a lot.

I’m working on the sniper witch book—I think I’m going to break it into 3 novellas instead of one book with 3 wildly different tones. I made a plan to have this all done by June so that I could publish them over 6 months with an omnibus at the end of the year, but the more I consider that, the more I go Price, why are you trying to kill yourself? So that will likely be re-vamped. I would like to have the bulk of the writing and revising done by June, and have the first one, at least, out this year, but we’ll see.

In 2025, I want to do more promo for CH, possibly hire an editor for sniper witch, and enjoy this thing I’ve started doing rather than pushing myself to produce like the oligarchs want. And keep writing for FUCKIT so my short writing skills don't disappear.

Thoughts on 2024

It took me a while to really settle into the idea that the short things I’m writing are really going to be only for FUCKIT because novels take a lot of time and effort. It felt strange to realize that, even though novels have always been my goal.

I definitely had my moments this year of “Oh god, I’m a failure!” But just about every time I would get like that, there would be a story about trad publishing: AI, lack of promotion, lack of money, general crappy behavior. I am too old and too tired for that. For the first time ever I’m writing while knowing those words are going to be published, and it’s lovely. I am not too scattered to make it happen, even if my plans have changed three times since I first made them and will probably change three more as I go.

I am still not sure what it will do to my taxes, though. (Probably nothing, but a girl can hope.)

Goals for 2025

Promo for previous books

Finish sniper witch

Start outlining Teachout 2

Editor for SW?

Revise/publish vol 1 of SW?

(Some of this depends on how the whole "moving across the country" thing goes, as well.)

[art-of-manliness]

Odds & Ends: September 6, 2024

Macbeth. Ever since my podcast with Eliot Cohen on what Shakespeare can teach us about power and leadership, I’ve had a hankering to read more of the Bard. But I read somewhere that to really get the full effect of Shakespeare’s plays, it helps to hear the plays performed instead of merely reading them. So I downloaded a performance of Macbeth done by the Folgers Theatre on my Audible app and listened to it during my morning walks. It was great! So many good lessons on the dangers of unchecked ambition. I’ve already downloaded King Richard III, and it will be my next morning walk companion. If you’ve wanted to get more Shakespeare in your life, try listening to him instead of reading him.  Flint and Tinder Waxed Canvas Trucker Jacket. The summer heat broke here in Oklahoma this week, and we’re starting to get a faint whiff of fall. Which means I’ll soon be busting out my favorite piece of autumnal clothing: the Flint and Tinder Waxed Canvas Jacket. I’ve had mine since 2016, and it’s only gotten more handsome with time. The F&T Trucker Jacket is pricey, but it will give you years of use. I’ll probably still be wearing mine in another eight years. Read my full review of the Flint and Tinder Waxed Canvas Trucker Jacket here.  EA Sports NCAA College Football 25. Overall, I haven’t been a big fan of the changes that NIL (Name, Image, Likeness) has brought to college sports. But one bright spot is that it ushered in the return of one of my favorite video games from high school: EA Sports NCAA College Football. (The game had been on a decade-long hiatus because of legal disputes over the use of players’ likenesses in the game). Gus and I have been playing it together the past few weeks, and we both really enjoy it. It’s fun to see all the little traditions from each college that the designers have put into the game. The playbook is a lot of fun, too. Back in high school, our football team ran the triple option that Air Force runs, so I’ve been playing as the Falcons to digitally relive my Friday night lights glory days. It’s just been cool playing a video game that I enjoyed as a young man with my son who is now a young man.  The Natural. This Robert Redford baseball classic was my latest zone 2 cardio watch. I haven’t enjoyed a movie this much in a long time. First, the golden-hued cinematography bathes everything in a warm glow of nostalgia. It feels good just seeing the moving images on the screen. Second, the story is top-notch. It’s a baseball flick, but the movie makes obvious allusions to Greek epic poetry, particularly the Odyssey. Third, the acting is stellar: Robert Redford, Glenn Close, Wilford Brimley, Kim Basinger, Robert Duvall…such an all-star cast. I first watched this movie as a kid; it hit different watching it as a middle-aged man. Highly recommend.  Quote of the Week Nothing can lift the heart of man Like manhood in a fellow-man. The thought of heaven’s great King afar But humbles us—too weak to scan But manly greatness men can span, And feel the bonds that draw. —Herman Melville Help support independent publishing. Make a donation to The Art of Manliness! Thanks for the support! http://dlvr.it/TCwPtr

[ammg-old2]

The ocean off the coast of southern Florida is having a long, hot summer. For weeks, surface temperatures hovered around 90 degrees Fahrenheit, before dropping to the 80s last week. The world’s third-largest barrier reef is dying, and scientists are fishing out coral samples and bringing them to the cool safety of laboratory tanks. One spot along the coastline hit triple-digit temperatures last month, conditions you would expect inside a hot tub. Some coastal Floridians skipped their usual dips in the ocean because it didn’t seem appealing anymore.

Marine heat waves—periods of persistent and anomalously high temperatures of surface seawater—have materialized in other parts of the world too. The surface temperatures of about 44 percent of Earth’s oceans are currently experiencing extreme heat, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Some of that warming is to be expected, because 2023 is an El Niño year. But “all of these marine heat waves are made warmer because of climate change,” Dillon Amaya, a research scientist at NOAA’s Physical Sciences Laboratory, told me. June was already a record-breaking month for the world’s oceans, and then July came along and topped it. According to the experimental forecast system that Amaya and his colleagues run at NOAA, half of the world’s oceans may be in the throes of a heat wave by September.

Earth is an ocean planet, a water world. We have not observed anything like it yet in the universe, not even with our best telescopes, and so we cannot know exactly how rare—and thus, how difficult—it may be for the forces of cosmic nature to produce such a thing. And yet, here we are, simmering its oceans at our peril and changing the fundamental makeup of the ecosystem that defines Earth. Our oceans have absorbed most of the excess heat produced by greenhouse-gas emissions in recent decades, serving as a buffer that protects us from the worst effects of climate change. Humans may be sweltering on land this summer, but our planet’s future—and therefore ours—is intimately tied with the sea.

Astronomers have spent years searching for worlds beyond our solar system that might host oceans, in the hopes that they also host life. Of the more than 5,000 planets they’ve found, only a few are in the habitable zone—at the right distance from their star to be conducive to liquid, flowing water. And scientists have yet to confirm that any rocky, Earth-size planets are also wet. Part of the problem is that oceans are difficult to detect with the technology available to researchers today. Our planet may be slick with rolling seas, but “if we were to observe Earth as an exoplanet, from a different system, we could not measure that Earth has water,” Charles Cadieux, an astronomer at the University of Montreal, told me.

Other oceans exist in our very own solar system but are hidden beneath the surface of icy moons, their exact composition unknown to us. Krista Soderlund, a research scientist at the University of Texas at Austin, studies Europa, a moon of Jupiter with a salty subsurface ocean that could harbor microbial life; she spends her days marveling at this other ocean world, all while worrying about the one she lives on. “I don’t really have a way to reconcile that,” Soderlund told me. “You can see the short, rapid changes right now, and then I’m looking forward to how that’s going to affect my kids. How much worse is it going to be?”

Next year, NASA is scheduled to launch the mission that Soderlund is working on: a spacecraft that will reach Europa in 2030. The vessel will carry a plaque engraved with a poem written by the U.S. poet laureate, which reads in part, “O second moon, we, too, are made / of water, of vast and beckoning seas.” This idea of connection, a touch of intimacy in an unfamiliar cosmos, is lovely. Read another way, it sounds almost like an elegy. We are made of vast seas. But when those seas are superheated, dissolving the shells and skeletons of marine creatures and enabling toxic blooms of algae, they beg for relief more than they beckon.

Our planet did not start out with seas. They came later, after Earth had cooled down from its formative molten years. How Earth got its water remains an open question; some researchers believe that it arrived inside asteroids that bombarded Earth several billion years ago, while others suggest that it was locked within the planet since it first formed out of the mountain-size rocks whizzing around the early solar system. This September, a NASA spacecraft will bring home samples from an asteroid that has remained unchanged since that cosmic period, and the rocky bits and pieces could reveal crucial information about our very existence. Scientists hope to uncover clues about the forces that gave rise to Earth’s oceans and enriched them with the chemical compounds that eventually sparked life.

In the face of climate change, the thrill of discovery is tinged with melancholy; as we learn more about how our ocean planet came to be, we’re subjecting its waters to intense heat, and the entire planet is facing the consequences. Hot oceans are melting ice sheets, intensifying hurricanes, and devastating fishing industries. “The Earth has seen a lot of change in its life,” Karen St. Germain, the director of NASA’s Earth-science division, told me. “But we are driving it now in a way that it hasn’t been driven before.”

Astronomers refer to the habitable region around a star as the Goldilocks zone. There, conditions are not too hot and not too cold, but just right for water to lap on alien shores. Earth is squarely in our sun’s habitable zone, and will enjoy its pleasant perch for at least another few billion years, until the sun grows hot enough to truly boil the planet’s oceans away. But Earth may become unlivable long before that: floods, droughts, wildfires, days so hot that touching asphalt can severely burn your skin, hot-tub seas that can roil coral and humans alike.

Last week, the head of the United Nations said, “The era of global warming has ended; the era of global boiling has arrived.” Climate scientists have cautioned that global boiling is not a scientific term, and that our current spate of extreme weather has been predicted for years. This is global warming, they say, and it’s plenty dramatic. Still, boiling can help emphasize the visceral urgency of what’s happening in the water. Because it is getting more difficult each day to look around and feel that things here are just right.

[fieldofdaisiies]

I live in texas and we haven’t had rain since early may. It’s been in the triple digits for over a month straight now, everything is brown and crispy, my plants are dying and my cats can’t go outside, it’s literal hell. We’re literally considering moving up north before next summer because of this shit.

Oh and we just finally got our ac repaired after being broken for two months 🫠

I am so sorry, I only saw this now

This is so awful, I am so sorry to hear this….the weather is absolutely insane😫

Please stay safe!!!💛 and thank got at least your ac is repaired again