#Suspends Operator

[essenceofarda]

The Three Eowyns from my 1920s Middle Earth au, "A Dance at the Palantiri"!! The White Lady of Rohan, Dernhelm, and a flapper dancer!

aka the three personas of Eowyn that Faramir falls in love with simultaneously without realizing that they are all, in fact, the same person LOL

Fic Summary: It's the 1920s in Middle Earth, and Éowyn just wants to get away. Just for a week, to be able to truly be herself, not just an esteemed Princess of the Riddermark. When she escapes under the disguise of a man named Dernhelm to Osgiliath, by fate she crosses paths with Lord Faramir, an infamous playboy and partygoer, who manages to rope her into becoming a bartender at his equally, if not more, infamous club and bar, The Palantiri. The Palantiri is more than meets the eye, same as its owner, however. Éowyn quickly realizes that the club is not just for people to lose themselves, but to lose their secrets too. There's more than meets the eye of Faramir, too, she finds. Suddenly, Éowyn finds herself neck deep in a years old secret operation in the war effort, and must do so while keeping up the guise of a man.

Trying out and having fun with a different to my usual style "very stylized" style :D

Also should I update this fic?

[strawberrystepmom]

ceasing lover girl activities until further notice

[play-my-game]

[not100gays]

I just found out about lovetown the video game or visual novel or whatever and like I get what it's going for but it is a prime example of nitpicky questions absolutely horribly undermining What you're going for. Cuz like a big part is apparently that that doesn't have to happen first class gets to sit and stasis for the 2000 years. Surely surely surely it is cheaper to just put everyone in stasis than having to uncronenberg every passenger every single time somebody takes the train. That's a lot of man hours uncronenberging everybody.

[scftrebellion]

pink camellias, white chrysanthemums, yellow daffodils

𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀; 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝖲𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈.

rated M for Mature themes, drinking & heavy petting towards the end. nothing explicit, but to be safe, mdni.

╭────༺ 𓄼 ❀ 𓄹 ༻────╮

they say music from Tillman’s juke joint could be heard all the way in the Capitol on a Saturday night. Seeder never much cared for the implications of that, not even when she was a young girl and the Capitol was more of a shadow that went bump in the night than a real tangible threat. she cared for it even less these days now that she knew intimately that it was the second. but even she couldn’t deny there might be some truth to it.

she can hear Bud Tillman fiddling his heart out when she leaves the Vineyard. the sound of good music and the smell of folks cooking good food carries her through the district. kids zip by her laughing, promises of the one day off from the fields lifting the collective spirit in the atmosphere.

tomorrow her District will be casket quiet, and she’ll likely be tending to the aftereffects of drink ﹠ merriment by her lonesome. tomorrow, she’ll be a Victor from one of the Big Houses again. the omen of bad times that every winner of the Games inadvertently became to their people.

tonight, she will be Seeder Howell. with her red lipstick and her red organdy dress and her shiny red heels. going to see her gal and drink until she’s warm in the cheeks. tonight, she can have the luxury to pretend to be fourteen ﹠ young again.

there’s a group of men throwing dice outside the juke when she approaches. a few of them tip their hats to her politely, sidle out of the way of the door so that she can slip through. Lia seems to have been waiting on her to come and gotten into the shine while she did—she’s bombarded with gangly long arms and the stench of peach moonshine. it’s heavy on her breath and in her clothes—a sign that it’s one of those nights where she’ll be hitting the bottle hard ﹠ lamenting it for days after. for once Seeder can hardly blame her.

“Seeder! you came!” her younger sister effuses, eyes sparkling. the tip of her nose is blush red already, bright against her pale skin. during winter days, her sister could blend right in with those dark-haired folks that worked in the justice building from District Two. but in the summer her tan would come back full force, all warm taupe shining in the sun, and they’d look nigh identical again. Seeder ducks out of her younger sister's grip, though she accepts the offering of gin from her. Lia barely notices—appraising the semi-sheer red frills on her dress. “you look damn fine, girl.”

“watch your mouth,” she chastises absently, eyes scanning the room. searching for someone, for—

—she spots her behind the bar. her short cropped curls sticking to her face with sweat, stains in the pits and the collar of her cotton button-up. one of her suspenders must’ve snapped recently, because the leathers are mismatched colors but still holding up her favorite charcoal gray pants.

Tully Tillman is the only Tillman girl that always insisted on wearing pants. since they were kids. on reaping day, when their Mama’s forced them to go to a repast, on birthdays and New Years too. there she’d be, with her short curls cut by her ears, wearing a pair of her fathers hand-me-down shirts and suspenders. Seeder remembers thinking she was odd for it when they were kids. but now her face splits with the joy that is found in familiarity, and she carefully picks her way through the crowd—promising Lia that she’ll catch up later.

she drops the gin on a random table as she nears the ramshackle counter and pin-cushion stools they call a bar. Tully notices and laughs at her—high and pretty like the music from her Daddy’s fiddle. it sets Seeder’s heart to fluttering in a funny way; beating fast, sounding something like those big ceremonial drums from the Capitol.

“i need a drink,” she shouts over the din of dancing and music and her own heartbeat pulsating in her ears. Tully glances to the abandoned gin, now being happily sipped on by what Seeder believes is one of the field-calls.

“you had a drink.”

“i wanted one from you,” Seeder responds, leaning on the bar. Tully carts her eyes over her, smiles big and broad like she always did when she caught her being slick. already, the apples of her cheeks look swollen with her affection. she has dimples when she smiles, and they make her look cute ﹠ youthful again. Seeder can feel herself grinning just as wide. “hi, by the way.”

“hey yourself,” she responds, before reaching over to pour up something white and cheap and eye-watering. she spills a bit of syrup from some jarred cherries in it before sliding it over. “i’m happy you came.”

a scoff from Seeder, her index finger tracing lazily around the sticky rim of the glass. the drink is more of a formality—it was well known that Seeder Howell didn’t come out to the Tillman juke just to drink. she got plenty high off of this right here; talking to the handsome woman that served the liquor. “aw, c’mon. y’all act like i don’t never go nowhere.”

“‘cause you don’t,” Tully responds, turning to mix another drink for a waiting patron. she can hardly keep her gaze off of Seeder though, leaning every so often to catch a glimpse of her thighs through that translucent red fabric in her skirts, and it burns her chest up something fierce—blazing hotter than any gin or shine could ever be. “you stay cooped up in that big ol’ house, making other folks' problems your own.”

“well, it’s the least i could do.” whether she means keeping a safe distance from those she cares about, or sacrificing all of her free time to the people of the district goes unsaid. Tully gives her a sympathetic look nonetheless. “i’m glad to see you, too.”

“nothing else could’ve made me happier. and you’re looking fine as frog hair—you gonna dance with me tonight, Miss Howell?”

“oh, come on now. you know better than that,” Seeder dismisses, taking another sip of her drink to busy her mouth from speaking unnecessary platitudes. they were something of an open secret, she and Tully. folks didn’t give them too much grief because the Howell’s and the Tillman’s served the District well in their own ways. but she knew better than to go inviting disdain by broadcasting it. besides, she couldn’t be sure that there was never anyone looking. her sister and her predilection to keep having babies was bad enough. she didn’t need to worry about her girl, too.

being at the juke was already a terrible idea. but at least she could pretend she was there for her sister, and she ﹠ Tully were less close in theory than in reality. taking her partner to the dance floor—no matter how much she wants to—is practically begging for problems. “i got two left feet, and they’re both ‘bout as heavy as stones. i’d stomp all over those pretty toes of yours.”

“girl like you stepping on my toes? don’t threaten me with a good time,” Tully teases, finally finishing up the drink for the man that’d been waiting. he gives them each a scornful look and then spits at Seeder’s feet—having obviously overheard their conversation, and not liked it a wit. the yellow spittle lands on her shiny red heels, thick and viscid on the patent leather. Tully’s face wrenches up with fury, but he’s already backing up towards the crowd of people dancing. “hey now! show some damn respect to the lady!”

“T, don’t,” Seeder hisses, grabbing her arm to keep her from coming around to the other side of the bar. the two women exchange a loaded look—one pleading, the other enraged. the last thing she needs is for a fight to kick off over a pair of shoes, especially not ones she could quickly wipe off with a wet rag anyhow. she’d come out tonight to steal joy for herself, and she wouldn’t have her one night cut short behind Tully’s pride. there’s an entire conversation had in just that one glance, and eventually the other woman settles down—leaning on the sticky wooden bar to get closer to her.

“you don’t have to keep taking that.”

“please, not tonight,” she responds instantly, taking sips from her drink. it’s strong, and it waters her eyes with every mouthful. but its effects are instantaneous, and she can feel the liquid heat pooling in her belly. dark eyes flit over to the stage, where Tully’s father is working the fiddle. he’s accompanied by her older sister on a janky old piano, and the two of them have the whole joint up on the floor. sensing an opportunity to change the subject, she gestures towards the pair with her jar. “Bud ain’t losing his touch, is he?”

“nope. still sounds as good as he always has. that man might just fiddle himself clean off Death’s roster,” Tully agrees, which earns her a derisive snort and a side-eye. “what? you don’t think he could?”

“girl, what are you talking about? can’t nobody swindle themselves out of death—you sound silly even joking about it,” giggles Seeder, tearing her eyes away from the stage. the shine must be loosening her lips in a dangerous way, because she adds, “death and the reaping. two things that're gonna come around every time, whether we want them to or not.”

“maybe not.”

“Tully, what did i just say?” groans Seeder. “i don’t even know why i said that. forget i brought it up.”

if it wasn’t one thing, it was another. that was the problem with loving a woman like Tully Tillman. she had a strong sense of justice, big ideas of right and wrong, and nowhere to put all the rage she felt when things were unfair. whether that be misplaced disgust at something innocent like their love, or the injustice of children being used as fodder to be slaughtered year by year. she couldn’t help herself but to talk crazy. the only miracle was that when Tully got to talking, folks were usually too drunk to pay her any mind. perks of being a barkeep. she had just enough good sense to wait until she was behind that bar on Saturday nights—but that was usually where her sense ran out.

and it didn’t make it any less dangerous. didn’t change the way cold dread would wrap its spindly fingers around Seeder’s lungs and squeeze every time she heard her talking like that.

she’d seen people swing in the orchard for days for offenses far less severe. if they found out Tully was talking about treason, Seeder can’t imagine what torment they’d dream up. she still saw Pearla’s headless body when she went to sleep some nights. the way her sister's legs had twitched uselessly in the air before they’d drawn the rope up again and butchered her.

it takes a few moments to pull herself from those macabre memories and recognize that the muffled buzzing in her ears is Tully; she’s still talking, voice going all pitchy on the ends like it does when she’s excited. Seeder blinks herself back to the present. “—some man came by couple of nights ago, said there was a Peacekeeper getting folks out of the District on the supply trains—”

“Tulip,” Seeder hisses, grabbing the older woman’s forearm and pulling her clean across the bar. their faces are so close their lips could touch, and a few nearby tables make faces of derision at what looks to the drunken eye to be a display of affection. but all of that is whited out with fear. talk like that didn’t just get folks hanged anymore, either. especially not if they were seen with Seeder. it got them tortured, it got them arrested, it got them—

—her eyes are welling up before she realizes it, and Tully places a hand over the one Seeder is gripping her with.

“hey, hey,” she whispers. “i’m sorry—i’m talking crazy. i won’t mention it again. i promise.”

“you’d better not. not to anyone. not ever.”

“not ever, you have my word.”

the grip Seeder has on her eases up, and she sets down her glass too. “you have something good here—with your daddy, with your sisters, running the juke. good enough. don’t mess it up being stupid ﹠ chasing trouble.”

Tully’s voice is churlish and petulant when she looks up at Seeder through her eyelashes. “you chase trouble.”

“you know what,” Seeder suddenly exhales, pushing herself away from the bar. there’s something bitter welling up in her throat, tastes sour like homemade wine and waters up the back of her tongue like she wants to vomit. “do what you please. i ain’t your mama. but leave me ﹠ mine out of it. i got enough to worry about.” the real contention of the night. why Lia was knee-deep in the shine already, why Seeder had wanted to see Tully ﹠ take her mind off of things. and likely why the reaping had been so heavy on her mind that just a little liquor had brought the words tumbling forth.

Althea had turned twelve that year. Seeder had stayed in the house with drawn blinds while her sister and her family celebrated in their home away from her. her face too stark an omen of what a twelfth birthday meant to the Howell family now. Seeder had attempted to spare them any dour reminders by staying away.

yet still a brand new dress, a pretty shade of apple red with a basket-weave bodice, had arrived in the post to her sister’s door for their niece. Seeder hadn’t ordered it, but they all knew well enough who had.

that man had just taken that girl’s mother from her last year, and was making the threat to take her, too, if Seeder wasn’t on her best behavior. a cruel ﹠ merciless god threatening destruction for the barest hint of sin.

and she would be pious to appease him, because there was someone else within touching reach, now. Seeder had not a single rebellious bone in her body. her night terrors had already been tinted apple red, familial oak-brown eyes blinking back at her from the dark. she hated the games as much as anyone else, but there was no room for brash mistakes this year or five years down. and Tully, love her as she does, is a big bright blood-red mistake waiting to happen.

there’s been enough bloodshed on her behalf. she can’t bear the idea of another, even less than she can bear the thought of never seeing Tully again for her foolishness. she knows she doesn’t mean the ultimatum the second she says it. but she needs to make the point.

while trying to slide off of the barstool, Seeder stumbles a bit in her heels. she’d drank more of that moonshine than she’d thought judging by the half-full jar, and it seems like the alcohol had settled in quick. she didn’t drink much as it was, and the Tillman’s served paint-thinner in a glass. despite how furious she is at her, Seeder leans into it when Tully wraps a steadying arm around her waist. life was lonely enough, and oftentimes just as short. there is no room for stewing in anger. at any rate, Tully seems to have been rightfully chastened by Seeder’s menacing to course-correct her behavior.

warm calloused hands slip around her waist—too intimate for friends, too public for safety. despite the contempt thrown their way in curled lips and furrowed brows, nobody is as brash with their displeasure as the man from earlier. it doesn’t change the anxiety she feels humming quietly under the blanket of liquor in her system. had she been a little more sober, she might’ve shooed the woman away. instead Tully safely guides Seeder out to the back entrance where wild bushels of dropseed grow unkempt off the porch, and she lets her. the two women manage to stay upright long enough to get down the steps, but then Tully gives one impatient tug at the hem of Seeder’s skirt and they go tumbling down in a heap of limbs ﹠ laughs. tall grass and black willow trees act as cover enough in the nightfall. satin-soft laughter leaves Seeder’s chest despite her earlier indignation. her rage at Tully’s recklessness is curtailed by the feeling of those hands traveling up under her skirts.

she swats her hands away, rolling her head lazily over to look at the woman beside her. in the moonlight, Tully’s dark skin glows with undertones of midnight blue. she looks iridescent and beautiful and timeless and the rest of her anger slips out of reach when they lock eyes.

an amused grin, her voice soft ﹠ low so as not to be overheard by anyone that might be stepping out for fresh air. “you trying to feel me up?”

“nobody can see us through the grass,” Tully murmurs, leaning in to sip a kiss. Seeder obliges just the one—because she knows that it’s true, they’ve done this enough times before—and then jerks back. “oh, come on now. don’t be like that. i said sorry, and i meant it.”

“you’re feeling mighty reckless tonight,” responds Seeder, rolling over onto her stomach. the grass tickles at her exposed clavicles and her ankles and her thighs, too. but she doesn’t lift up from it. instead she folds her arms over Tully’s breasts, rests her chin on her wrists. “i can’t afford to lose nothing else. i ain’t strong enough for that.”

“you’re not going to lose me. i’ll be on my best behavior,” Tully whispers back, plucking a blade of grass from her hair. “you still love me?”

“i still love you.” she leans up and presses her lips against Tully’s, and steals more than a sip of a kiss. her lipstick makes their lips stick together, slows their kisses down until they can barely separate their lips. moments like this can make it all feel worth it, sometimes. the meticulous distance she kept, the way she worked so hard to sneak around. they could never marry, or raise babies, or live together in that big empty house she had in the Vineyard. but they could keep what they had as theirs. real, untouched by the Capitol or any judgmental gazes, reserved only for themselves.

when Seeder pulls away, and Tully looks up at her with those big, oil-dark eyes, she knows the way her heart hammers is her sign that it’s worth it. “no more man with the trains. you hear me?”

Tully leans up. presses a kiss to her exposed shoulder. “yes ma’am. crystal clear.”

a sigh escapes red lips. she turns her head, her girl kisses a path up her neckline. the feather-light feel of chapped lips on her jaw, of warm rough hands resting on her hips—Seeder melts right down into a puddle. she can’t believe she ever thought she’d play at being angry with this divine, magical woman. “and no more of that crazy talk. i won’t see you swing in this lifetime or the next.”

“no, you won’t,” rumbles Tully, the bass of her voice humming against her cheek.

“i’m serious,” she pulls away to insist, and that earlier indignation flares up. the idea that she’s having their sensuality turned into a distraction sours the moment in her stomach. but her girl knows her too well, because the sincerity in her next words ease her back down into the embrace.

“i know you are.” brawny arms snake around her middle. she mouths another kiss into her neck. “you look mighty pretty while you’re doing it though. stay the night?”

“i can’t.” too long of an absence would raise alarm bells. even tipsy, she thinks about every variable. being escorted out to cool down by a friend was one thing, disappearing for the evening and turning up at sunrise was another.

not even Tully’s sweet kisses ﹠ reassurances can turn off the side of her that worries. that desperately scrambles to carve something nice out for herself in this world of evil and keep it close. even if it means she only gets it in tastes, in fleeting moments with itchy grass pressing into her knees.

“stay the hour?” proposes Tully, hope coloring her voice. Seeder smiles down at her, presses the flat of her palm against one of those dimpled cheeks.

“… nothing else could make me happier.”

[dmvvehicleregistration]

No more long waits at the DMV! Come to Master Vehicle for all your DMV needs. We offer the following services, Title Transfer, non resident/ out of state titles, Vin verification, Change of address on registration, clear a suspended registration, duplicate titles/plates, planned non-operation, replacement plates/ stickers and ore. Text or email any questions and we can advise you before you walk in our door. ¡No más esperas largas en el DMV! Venga a Master Vehicle Registration para todas sus necesidades del DMV. Ofrecemos los siguientes servicios: transferencia de título, títulos de no residente, de fuera del estado, verificación de Vin, cambio de dirección en el registro del automóvil, limpieza de un registro. *not a licensed attorney*

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[townpostin]

Tragic Accident Claims Nurse's Life Outside Jamshedpur Sadar Hospital

Staff demands compensation; hospital operations halted in protest A 38-year-old nurse died tragically in a road accident outside Sadar Hospital, prompting staff to cease operations pending compensation. JAMSHEDPUR – A 38-year-old nurse, Shashi Kala Singh, lost her life in a tragic accident involving a 407 vehicle outside Khas Mahal Sadar Hospital in Parsudih, Jamshedpur. The incident occurred as…

[rightnewshindi]

नौहराधार को-आप्रेटिव बैंक में करोड़ों के घोटाले के मामले में सीबीआई करेगी जांच, सात कर्मचारी सस्पेंड

Sirmaur News: सिरमौर जिले के नौहराधार को-आप्रेटिव बैंक में करोड़ों रुपए के घोटाले मामले में अब को-आप्रेटिव बैंक मुख्यालय शिमला ने सीबीआई जांच करवाने का निर्णय लिया है। ऐेसे में इस मामले में जो भी कर्मचारी संलिप्त पाए जाएंगे, उनके खिलाफ सख्त कार्रवाई होगी। प्रबंधन ने मामला सीबीआई को भेज दिया है। मामले में फिलहाल प्रबंधन ने 7 कर्मचारियों को सस्पैंड कर दिया है। इसके साथ ही 10 कर्मचारियों के विरुद्ध…

[remindertoclick]

Here's your daily reminder to click for Palestine!!!

U.S. residents, take 5 minutes and use this link to pressure your members of Congress to stop sending weapons to the Israeli military!!

(Letter variants you can copy/paste under the cut!!)

Original letter written by Jewish Voice for Peace:

I am writing as your constituent to ask that you do everything in your power to press the Biden administration to suspend all weapons shipments to the Israeli military, and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah, even though President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line." On May 7, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and ordered 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to evacuate. The 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere to flee should a full invasion commence. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Slight variations I created (so that emails don't get marked as spam for being identical to each other)

Variation 1:

I'm writing to you as your constituent to ask you to do everything you can to pressure the Biden administration into suspending all weapons shipments to the Israeli military and opposing any and all future military funding to Israel! The Israeli government is pushing forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah. President Biden has repeatedly said such an operation would be a "red line," yet his administration is still supporting this operation. On May 7th 2024, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians in eastern Rafah to abandon their homes. 1.3 million Palestinians have been displaced. Those sheltering in Rafah have nowhere to flee during a full invasion. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. Their fate lies in the hands on Congress, in your hands. I urge you to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late. Thank you.

Variation 2:

I'm writing you today to ask that you do everything in your power to convince the Biden administration to stop funding Israel. We have to telk them to stop all shipments of weapons to the Israeli military and oppose all future military funding to Israel. The Israeli government has vowed to push forward with a large-scale military operation in Rafah... President Biden made it clear that such an operation would be a "red line," and yet he continues to fund them. On May 7th of this year, the Israeli military seized the Rafah border crossing, a crucial passage for humanitarian aid, and forced 100,000 Palestinians to flee their own home of Eastern Rafah. Should a full invasion commence, 1.3 million displaced Palestinians sheltering in Rafah will have nowhere safe to go. Millions of Palestinian lives now hang in the balance. I am begging you now, as your constituent, to do everything in your power to stop this unfolding catastrophe before it's too late... Thank you

[godbirdart]

Reminder for those shipping mail within, or to, Canada: Canada Post has been on strike since November 15 and is still on strike. No mail is being delivered or processed.

The United States Postal Service has suspended mail to Canada, meaning packages are either being returned to sender or are stuck in limbo at USPS facilities.

UPS and Purolator are struggling with the backlog and halting some mail processing.

It seems DHL and Fedex are still operational, at least at the time of this post, but ofc they're going to be vastly busier than usual.

[dailyworldecho]

[santners]

Yes calling someone a slur should be at minimum a 5 week ban. Yes the bans for what's basically assault should also be increased from the 1-2 weeks at current. These thoughts can co-exist

[prokopetz]

The first time I ever rode a roller coaster was the old wooden coaster at the Pacific National Exhibition grounds in Vancouver. This was back in the mid 1980s, before the big renovation, so it still had shitty plywood cars where the only thing preventing you from being thrown bodily from the track was your own weight and a single metal cross-bar to hang onto. I just barely cleared the "you must be this tall to ride" sign, but I was abnormally tall for my age and the operators either didn't notice or didn't care how skinny I was, so I was well below the minimum safe weight; when my car hit the big drop I was lifted from my seat by the sudden acceleration, and hung suspended in mid air for the full duration of the drop, held in place by my grip on the safety bar. It was the most magical experience of my life, and one I look back on with fond nostalgia, which probably explains a thing or two.

[michaelgabrill]

NASAs Swift Temporarily Suspends Science Operations

On March 15, NASA’s Neil Gehrels Swift Observatory entered into safe mode, temporarily suspending science operations due to degrading performance from one of its three gyroscopes (gyros), which are used to point the observatory for making observations. The rest of the spacecraft remains in good health. Swift is designed to successfully operate without one of […] from NASA https://ift.tt/VCyvtXi

[owlpuddle]

update: OBSESSED

The muddy sound mixing of the tonys did no favor to Operation Mincemeat's dense lyricism. It's better now that I'm listening on headphones. And I love wordy musicals, I think I'll like this one.