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hedgehog-moss · 4 months

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I went to see the transhumance last week and it was an experience! I've lived here for five years and I'd never been to this event despite it being advertised in the library & town hall every year because I thought, it's just cows crossing a town on their way to their summer pastures, it's not that interesting—but I didn't realise that people turned it into a whole party, as people tend to do. When I arrived in town I found that a nearby field had been (temporarily) turned into a car park to accommodate the many, many visitors who came to see the spectacle—and I was like, maybe I've been missing out on something.

The town was festooned with tassels and garlands (some of the cows were also festooned, with big pompons on their horns) (festoon is a really great English word.) When I arrived there was a thriving little market with several cheese stands, because of course people would take this opportunity to sell their cheeses. They also sold bread, fruit, and cow milk-based desserts including ice-cream, so you were covered if you wanted lunch. (Unless you're lactose intolerant. I'm sorry.)

There were also folk dancers, and a contest going on where you had to guess the weight of an absolutely massive bull (see above). (My guess was way off, he weighed 1 200 kg!) There was a stand with a guy selling beautiful, framed photos of his cows. In one photo a cow was whispering something in her friend's ear. Nearby some prize cows were waiting to be paraded around and one of them was wearing a halter with a little heart <3

(I was invited for apéritif at a neighbour's house a few months ago, he's a retired farmer and he had old Kodak photos of his cows from the 1980s and 90s all over his house. He remembered their names and personalities.)

There was also a stand selling a dizzying variety of cow bells, and I've been resisting the temptation to buy a cow bell for five years now because, well, it's such a cliché tourist thing to buy, but I will probably end up buying one someday. It's hard to resist their allure. I'm not sure which of my animals will have to deal with the humiliation of wearing a bell for a few hours and being photographed cosplaying as a cow against his will.

(Definitely Pirlouit.)

I was buying an ice-cream and asking the vendor if the cows were fashionably late when finally, the herds started arriving. One herd would cross the town, with onlookers clapping and cheering (including from their balconies), then people went back to buying cheese and watching the dancers or the brass band, and commenting on the prize cows strutting on the plaza, then another herd would arrive half an hour later and children would run ahead to warn everyone "They're coming!" (kids love being sentinels) and people would eagerly gather again to clap and cheer as they walked past, and it went on like this all day. You'd think you might get tired of eating ice-cream and clapping for cows but no, people were still enthusiastic when the last herd came.

Imagine being a local cow, and every year when your owners take you to your summer pastures in the mountain you cross a town where people are eating cow milk ice-cream and clapping for you gratefully as you walk past, and buying cow merch (like bells) and admiring an exhibit of framed photos of you and your friends, and watching cow supermodels walking the catwalk on the plaza, and just as you think you've reached maximum levels of appreciation you reach the entrance of town and there's a lifesized statue in your honour in the middle of the roundabout. These cows must have such solid self-esteem.

#crawling along

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nyancrimew · 6 hours

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i got a pair of earrings from the local farmer's market that I later found out were functioning bootleg animal crossing amiibo cards. there was a pile of them in the tray & were just labeled as earrings. do they know? do they think the people buying them know? they were $10 which seems low for what they are. i found a really niche black market at the farmer's market

oh that's so cool

#confessions

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cathkaesque · 1 year

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Statement on Israel’s Use of Starvation as a Weapon of War in Gaza by the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, Palestine

For five days, Israel has attacked Gaza with the aim of total destruction, and the situation is at an unprecedented level of urgency. Israel’s actions have amounted to a humanitarian catastrophe of unfathomable proportions. At the time of publication, the Palestinian Ministry of Health reports 1,055 martyrs and approximately 5,184 injured.

Israel has declared a total warfare stance on Gaza, imposing a ruthless blockade that denies over two million Palestinian residents of Gaza access to electricity, water, food, fuel, medical supplies, and any humanitarian aid. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant explicitly stated this strategy on 9 October 2023, saying: “We are imposing a complete siege on [Gaza]. No electricity, no food, no water, no fuel – everything is closed. We are fighting human animals, and we act accordingly.”

Israel’s deliberate use of starvation as a weapon of war demands the international community immediately respond with unwavering urgency and resolve.

Israel is indiscriminately decimating hospitals, schools, mosques, markets, and entire neighborhoods. Further, Israel threatened Egypt that it would bomb humanitarian aid deliveries to Gaza, prompting Egypt to withdraw its aid convoys. The Rafah Crossing into Egypt, the sole international exit from Gaza, has been bombed by Israel three times in a 24-hour period. This calculated assault severs Gazans’ only means of escape from ceaseless bombings or access to essential humanitarian aid. With Israel cutting off Gaza’s source of electricity, the only source of power was the Gaza Power Plant, which has just run out of fuel. In the case that it receives more fuel, Israel has threatened to attack the plant.

Israel’s assault is deliberately destroying any infrastructure that allows Gazans to support themselves. Vital agricultural and fishing infrastructure, crucial for food production, have been mercilessly attacked. Fisher folk cannot access the sea, into which sewage is spilling. The seaport is damaged, and tools are obliterated. Farming areas, often near the fence, have become vulnerable targets in Israeli airstrikes, and farmers whose land has not been destroyed cannot access it for daily agricultural practices. The Ministry of Agriculture reports that the bombing has done immense damage to agricultural areas and poultry farms, but the conditions make it impossible to precisely assess the situation in the field. There is a catastrophic decrease in food stocks, with shops across Gaza reporting severe shortages. The land and sea will face unimaginable environmental damages following these attacks, further preventing efforts to rebuild livelihoods.

Israel’s strategy aims to ensure that those who survive the bombs are condemned to a future without sustenance.

OCHA reports that the assaults have disrupted the UNRWA food operation, impacting at least 112,759 families. The poultry and livestock sectors are on the brink of collapse due to the severe shortage of fodder, endangering the livelihoods of more than 1,000 herders and affecting over 10,000 producers. This jeopardizes the provision of animal protein and the availability of meat and fresh sources of protein for Gaza’s entire population. Transportation of poultry to markets has virtually halted, and dairy cattle milk cannot be refrigerated nor marketed to factories, resulting in an expected daily spoilage of 35,000 liters of milk. More than 4,000 fisheries are at risk due to the closure of the sea. Gaza’s agriculture, poultry, cattle, fish, and other products are suffering from a lack of refrigeration, irrigation, incubation, and other machinery due to electricity cuts, causing spoilage.

Israel’s use of these tactics is not new by any means. Before Saturday, around 65% of the Gazan population was food insecure. More than 46% of the agricultural land in Gaza was inaccessible, and the fishing industry was severely struggling since fishing off the coast of Gaza has been restricted by Israel to 3 to 6 nautical miles.

Food insecurity is a human-made crisis, and Israel is manufacturing a mass starvation of the Gazan people.

It is the moral and legal obligation of the international community to intervene and end this crisis immediately. Food, as a basic necessity, must be allowed to reach the people of Gaza, and the deliberate targeting of civilian infrastructure must cease without delay.

We call upon the international community to take immediate action to stop Israel’s massacre of the Gazan population, demand the lifting of the siege, and establish humanitarian corridors for entry of aid.

#palestine #la via campesina

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joe9cool · 11 months

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Invisible String- Collide

This takes place after the story and before the epilogues. Just a cute little story while listening to Invisible String by Taylor Swift

Mike Wozniak was in his attic, normally this was something his wife would be doing, but this was something that was driving him nuts since he discovered the tall young man that stole his youngest daughter's heart.

Justin looked familiar, but he couldn't put his place on it. Then the lightbulb went off in his head when he remembered Justin was from Oregon. He had never gotten a proper chance to mention it since everyone had been fussing over him the entire time he was visiting

After hours of searching through photo albums, he made an "Aha!" Noise as he grabbed the two photos he was looking for

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

"Dad, I thought you were taking this slow. You just had a medical emergency." Sara had decided to go home for a week to check on her dad before Justin's training camp started. She had just finished wrapping up promotional press for the shows new season premiere. Sara was cleaning her home when her dad surprised her with food and an envelope. "Where's mom?"

"Probably at her art class. Who knows?" Sara laughed and crossed her arms. "And how pissed would she be if she knew you were here with Chinese food?"

"Really pissed. But she will be gone for a few more hours and there's the farmers market on her way home. Plenty of time to hide the evidence." He set the food down as Sara got out the paper plates and plastic utensils. "What's in the envelope?"

He slid it across the dining room table as he began to plate some of the food. "Take a look for yourself."

Confused, she tucked a piece of her dark hair around her ear before opening the envelope. It was a series of photos. She studied the first one. It was a picture of her, Alyssa and their dad outside what looked like a stadium. She looked at the back, in her moms handwriting

7/12/2002

Autzen stadium, Eugene Oregon

"Oh my god. How do I not remember this?" Sara examined the photo. She and Alyssa were dressed in typical early 2000s kids clothes. Their hair in pigtails, and they looked like they would have rather been anywhere but there. "I told Justin I'd never been there before but I guess I'm a liar."

Mike laughed. Taking a bite of his food. "It was an overnight business trip and I took your girls at the last minute since you were upset about Katie and Brittany going to Florida with your cousins. I didn't know anything about the area, saw this massive football stadium with Duck gear everywhere and got you this since you cried." There was a bag that he reached in. He pulled out a small stuffed Duck with an old Oregon logo on it. "Maybe one day, you could give it to your baby."

Sara took the duck and smiled. "I don't even remember having this." Her dad smiled. "Well you kept it in your room for a few days until Brittany made fun of you for having too many stuffed animals and then you threw them in the basin. You're lucky your mother is a sentimental hoarder."

He picked up the envelope and took out another photo. "This was when I went to New York for work because my company was sponsoring the college football awards. In 2019 I attended the national college football awards banquet to see my buddy Steve present the William Campbell trophy to a young man. I didn't know much about him, but he was very smart and polite in the brief moment I shook his hand."

He flipped the photo over and there was a group photo. All of the big execs surrounding Justin, and sure enough her dad was all of the way at the end.

"Who would have thought I'd be meeting my future son-in-law." Mike smiled as his daughter rolled his eyes. "Dad please."

"I'm just saying." He held his hands up.

—

"Wow. Now I feel bad, I didn't even recognize your dad when I met him in the hospital." Justin smiled as she showed him the two photos and the stuffed Duck. Sara laughed. "How would you have known?"

"True." He smiled. "You're a liar though." She looked confused. "Huh?" He got up and walked towards her, cornering her, he spoke slowly. "You told me you've never been to Eugene" She smiled, catching on by his tone. "I guess technically I did lie. Does that mean I'm a bad girl and need to be punished?"

She squealed as his hand snaked around her to squeeze her ass hard. "Bad girls always get punished."

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

A week after she showed him the photos something else had happened. She was scrolling on her tiktok page when a photo she recognized came across her for you page.

It was an old photo that her college roommate Cameron had posted back in 2017 on instagram. Fans must have dug up the photo as the old friend's profile was open.It was a photo of them at a UCLA football game, one of the few she attended. They were on the field, her name starting to pick up as she gotten some guest star roles on tv shows and was gaining traction in movies. Her and Cameron were by the end zone. She captioned it

One day she will get into football.

The person who posted it had used the song 'invisible string' as the sound

Isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some invisible String, Tying you to me

Sliding over the person had zoomed in on the same photo. Sara gasped as she recognized the guy on the field throwing a few feet behind them

It was Justin, her Justin.

She smiled widely. She vaguely remembered that game. From what she did remember, she was bored and on her phone messaging a douche that she was dating while waiting for call backs.

How close she was to meeting him. His hair was buzzed short, and he paid no attention to the chaos around him as he was getting ready for the game. Typical Justin.

Smiling, she made a few calls.

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

A few weeks later, Justin was at camp as Sara had just gotten in from another day of protesting for the writers. She was cooking dinner when he walked in. "Hey babe." He kissed her. "Smells good, as usual. I'm going to change."

"Okay when you're done I have a surprise for you." He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?" His earlier task was forgotten. "Is it another workout?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"That's for later. I'm talking about an actual gift."

Justin sighed and Sara laughed, deciding to show him earlier, she grabbed the frame from one of the drawers. He took it and was confused for a second. "Who is the girl with you?"

"My roommate Cameron this was when we went to the UCLA Oregon game." She smiled as she saw the recognition on his face. "Hey that's me in the back!" Justin looked up and laughed. "This was in 2017. Oh my god."

She smiled. "Who would have known? It's too bad you had that shaved head otherwise I would have definitely tried to fuck you." He rolled his eyes. "You know I had a girlfriend at this time?"

“So was I, well kinda, we were seeing other people on the side.” He narrowed his eyes “Hey I was a hoe when I first got into the La/Hollywood scene”

“I don’t want to hear about that.” She laughed at his jealousy. “You know the chicken needs some time to cool off, I need to keep busy.” She dragged a finger down his chest. Catching on, he put her over his shoulder and immediately went into the room. Unbeknownst to them, the music playing in the background begun playing ‘invisible strings’

A.N. This was just something cute I thought of while listening to the song

#justin herbert #sara and justin canon #nfl imagine

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scarfacemarston · 1 month

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Hiii ☺️

I’ve never sent you anything before because I’m not great at trying to meet new people but one of the reasons I followed you was because of your love for RDR! It’s one of my favourite games of all time, I’m a sucker for Abigail thou 🤭

Do you have any headcannons with Abigail x Fem! Reader? (Totally okay if not!) & if not, is there anything you would like to share about her?

Hey! So good to hear from you! I've followed your blog for awhile! :) I'm a sucker for Abigail, too. It's a problem. I have actually lots written for Abigail! If you look at my Abigail Roberts x reader tab, you'll find a lot of things. There are some prompts that you'll have to scroll through to get to the writing, but it's there! So, I decided to do something I've never done before and go with Modern AU! Abigail. I've never done that before and I thought it would be fun to try out. If you would prefer I write new hc's with canon, Abigail, that's fine, too! (Note: Lauren Cohan is my fc for Abigail in rp, so that's why she's here.)

Background: She grew up in the foster system after her parents passed away. She was an overachiever in high school and wanted to claw her way past the girl she was in the foster system. However, her dreams for college were put on hold when she became pregnant with Jack, and even more so once she became a single mother. She did underwear modeling and worked in a dive bar for extra money. (It seemed more likely FOR HER than her becoming an escort or a cam girl, but those are valid hc's.)

Four years later, she is amicably co-parenting with John and has an associate's degree in agriculture and business. Now, she has a small farm with fresh organic produce, animal goods like milk and eggs, flowers, and the occasional candle. She is happily in a relationship with the F!reader.

* You insist on helping her at the farmers' markets on the weekends, which is her busiest time selling products. She always attempts to talk you out of it, but you find it rewarding. You watch in awe as the businesswoman in her truly blossoms and the passion she has for her work.

* You surprise her with wanting to visit other farmer's markets. Sometimes, it's "secret shopper" missions, but a lot of time, it's just holding hands, picking out products, and eating samples.

* Lots of baths together! She loves to cuddle and the intimacy it can bring.

* You help her cook and bake a lot. She has a huge passion for it, but she just can't get the hang of it. I think she is better with cooking and baking in the modern AU than in canon, but she could still use some help. However, she can make a great chili! It's canonically her favorite food besides chocolate.

* She can make a mean cocktail. She doesn't drink a lot anymore, but she loves wine, rum, and whisky. However, she worked at a bar while caring for Jack to help put her through school and learned a lot while waiting tables.

* She is always so thankful for any time you spend with Jack. Liking Jack is a requirement. He comes first in any relationship. However, she does NOT expect you to babysit him, but she is incredibly thankful and falls in love with you a bit more each time you do something with him.

* With you, she is used to being the big spoon, but she loves to be surprised with being the little spoon sometimes.

* Blankets everywhere! Big chunky ones are her favorite. Example here: Her goal is to make her own! She is not really into the pillow craze.

*She canonically loves chocolate. Bonus if the chocolate has a bit of liquor in it. It's her guilty pleasure, but she has to keep it far from Jack. * Don't play a card game against her; you WILL lose. Especially poker. She's also great at board games. It was the only type of games the foster homes had. However, she doesn't play as many video games. You've been slowly introducing her to games. Right now, she likes to relax with Stardew Valley and Animal Crossing. She'll also play with Jack or watch you play games.

#abigail marston #abigail roberts #rdr 2 #van der linde gang #red dead redemption 2 #abigail marston x reader #abigail roberts x reader #john marston #jack marston

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lazybutsmexy · 2 years

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Rotten Apple

Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap

A/N: This is set after the events in Bird Hunting, but is mostly centered around Canary (here [Name] due to her being in a civilian setting) and her parents. Just a lil' bit of lore for BH fans :)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, referenced past child neglect, narcissistic/abusive parents.

Summary: Sweetened apples turn sour when rotten apples are around.

Word count: 2100~

“...Yae think we should’ve brought a leash?” Johnny pondered, and Simon had no choice but to consider his opinion for the next time they went to the farmers’ market with [Name]. Only ten minutes had passed from the moment they arrived, and it only took her catching a whiff of sweetened apples for her to zoom away into the crowd.

And it was crowded today, with a congregation of people, alone, in couples, or entire families that had decided to brave the unusually sunny weather to stock up on organically harvested seasonal fruits and vegetables, animal products, and other produce made by the same people that sold them in cute little stands.

[Name] absolutely loved the farmers’ market - Simon wasn’t that keen on crowds, but both him and Johnny were easily swayed by her excitement. The initial plan was for them to stock up on groceries before spending a long-awaited long weekend at Johnny’s cabin in the north. But now she had disappeared to who-knows-where.

Her stealth had been an important skill during missions, but now it was a problem. Is this how their enemies felt, knowing that she was around there but being unable to find her?, Simon thought, his eyes scanning the crowd from above - luckily, there weren't many people even close to his size.

“There!” Johnny exclaimed, and took off in a random direction. Simon was hot behind his heels, refusing to lose another one of his partners today. Both men had to struggle to part the crows around them without shoving them aside, and not tripping into distracted kids that wandered around their parents.

Finally, Simon saw her, but there was something off about her. He couldn’t quite place it before Johnny got to her, his hand brushing her arm.

“[Na-]! Oh, sorry,” Johnny quickly retracted his hand with a sheepish grin, “I thought you were my girlfriend, you look a lot like her.”

The girl eyed him up and down and quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, “That’s the most awful pick-up line I’ve heard,” she sneered at him, and Johnny couldn’t help but notice that she really looked eerily similar to [Name], from the color of her hair, the shape of her lips, to the scrunch on her nose when she looked at him in displeasure. “And by the way,” she continued dismissively, crossing her arms over her chest, “I already have a fiance, and you can’t afford me anyway.”

Both Simon and Johnny blinked at the woman, who was looking at both of them up and down. Johnny was getting rightfully annoyed at her choice of tone, and was about to turn around when she saw the woman’s face shift into surprise as her eye caught something behind them. “...[Name]?”

[Name] had been about to grab Simon’s shoulder, excited to show him her newly purchased jars of jams while munching away at a caramel apple, but the moment she noticed who was speaking to them, she turned around and shifted through the crowds again.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and she felt her lungs constrict against her ribs for oxygen. The soles of her feet stung - although her burns were healed, the new skin was still sensitive. She had lost her treat somewhere, but she paid it no mind, eager to find the exit, and wait for Johnny and Simon by the truck.

However, and she should already know this by heart, Lady luck sometimes is a bitch.

“...[Name]? Is that you?” The voice made her freeze on the spot, right outside the parking lot, and she felt like a child all over again as she slowly turned around, her eyes meeting her mother’s.

“...Hi, mom,” she sighed dejectedly, resigning herself to her fate as she saw her father turn around to face her, regarding her with an unimpressed stare, “Hi, dad.”

“Haven’t seen you in years, darling,” the woman spoke sweetly and smiled politely, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never does when it’s for me, [Name] thought bitterly. It was no different than when she spoke to a stranger at the grocery store, definitely not how one would speak to a daughter.

“Have you finally come to your senses?” her father was less subtle, crossing his arms over his chest, “Are you finally coming back home?”

“Ah, no, I’m actually on medical leave,” she cleared her throat and straightened her back, finally remembering she was not a teenager anymore, “I have my own place, had it for a while now, actually.”

“Really now?” her mother cooed, “When are you going to get the rest of your stuff from home, then?”

[Name] blinked at her, tilting her head a little in confusion, “you told me you were getting rid of my things years ago, you said you were going to use my bedroom for an office for Trish or something.”

“Oh, we did repurpose your old bedroom, silly girl,” the woman laughed, then shrugged condescendingly, “what we couldn’t give away is in a couple of small boxes in the attic, mostly your childhood photos.” [Name] said nothing - she had already expected her parents to get rid of all traces of her the moment she joined the military, she was only mildly puzzled about them keeping anything. “I'm sure you’ll want those, at least.”

“...You don’t want them?” she asked, although she already had an inkling of what the answer would be.

“Well, it would be embarrassing to have people asking about you, you know?” her mother sighed, shaking her head, “What would we tell them? It was easier to pretend your sister was an only child.”

“You could tell them the truth,” [Name] retorted, and her father seemed to tense up at her answer.

“Tell people that we have a daughter who whores herself out for a living?” He grumbled, while her mother looked around to see if anyone heard, “what do they call them, barrack bunnies?”

[Name] bit her lip, her mind unhelpfully replaying the disastrous argument that resulted from her enlisting years prior. “I thought you didn’t care if I died, anyway.”

“But you’re alive, and you owe us,” her mother chastised, her pitch dropping a few tones, “we raised you-”

“Grandma and Grandpa raised me, you were too busy raising Trish.”

“We kept you fed and clothed even though you always rebelled against us,” her mother hissed, stepping closer, “you turned our family against us!”

“You did that yourself,” [Name] kept her voice down, calm, knowing from experience that getting herself fired up would only give them more power, “you’re the one who started pretending I didn’t exist when I turned ten, saying you wished Trish was your only daughter.”

Her mother huffed and turned her face away indignantly, “and I stand by that.”

“...I know, you find it easier to pretend I don’t exist than to check whether I’m alive or not.”

“We should’ve left you at the hospital when we had the chance.”

[Name] rolled her eyes at that. After so many years living away from her parents, the usual quips and threats from her mother hurt less than when she was a teenager. It was a small comfort, to know that she’d grown out of her parents' shadow. “Yeah, that wasn’t very smart of you-” she was stopped by a sound slap, her face turning from the impact. She slowly raised her hand to cup her stinging cheek, and eyed her father, whose hand was still raised.

“You will not speak to your mother in that manner, young lady,” he growled, and [Name] just blinked at him, unsure of how to react without getting herself arrested.

“And you will not raise your hand against my corporal again, unless you’re ready to lose it,” Simon’s voice was low, dangerously low, and it sent shivers down both [Name]’s and her parents’ spines, although for entirely different reasons. She glanced over her shoulder, finding herself eye-level with Simon’s chest. Johnny stood by his side with a severe expression in his face, one she had seldom seen before.

Her parents warily stepped back, taking in the two large men who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. “W-who are you?” Her father stammered - although he would later deny he did.

“Lieutenant Riley, and this is your last warning,” he grumbled, although he didn’t need to do anything else to intimidate them. They already looked as if they were trying to find somewhere to hide.

Knowing that her parents were - for once - the ones cowering in fear stirred a newfound sense of power in [Name]’s heart - what was it that Gaz called it? Ah, yeah, scary dog privilege. She found it easier to look at the people in front of them and realize that nothing had tied her to them for a long time.

The branches of the genealogy tree can also be snipped to one’s content, her Grandma had told her on her twelfth birthday, when she couldn’t grasp the concept of her parents choosing to celebrate one kid’s birthday and not the other’s.

She had found herself being dropped off at her Grandparents’ early in the morning, while her parents boasted about taking Trish to an amusement park for the day. Little [Name] was heartbroken, and had begged her mom to forgive her for whatever she had done to not deserve a birthday party. But alas, they were relentless, and a lot of screaming from her mom and a backhanded slap from her dad had broken her pleas and made her silent, just like many other times.

At that time, [Name] couldn’t grasp the meaning of her Grandma’s words, but now that she had grown up, and disappointment had settled in a long time ago, those words rang truer than ever in her mind.

Even when she was on the brink of death in the forest, seeing them again never crossed her mind, for she knew they wouldn’t care even to visit her grave.

Keep up with that attitude, and you will die alone, because no one will ever love you, her mother had told her at thirteen, when she started openly questioning the difference in treatment with her twin.

How wrong she was, she thought. She was far from alone, and she was very well loved. Although her Grandparents were long gone, she had Simon and Johnny right here with her, and Gaz was her chosen brother, and Price was a better father figure than the man in front of her had ever been.

“Burn those photos, for all I care,” she smiled at her mother. It was a calm, detached smile - a polite smile you give to a stranger at the grocery store, not to a parent. “Make it real, that I do not exist for you.”

And with that she turned around, tugging on Simon's long sleeve as discreetly as she could. Johnny did notice, however, and smirked to himself as he followed after them - Simon would’ve gladly squared up to those two for hours if needed, but he easily relented to her touch.

Simon opened the truck’s passenger door for [Name] and she sat in silence, still mulling over her thoughts. A warm hand rested on her knee and she looked up to see her favorite pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They looked at each other in silence - there was an unsaid question in his lips, but she could almost taste it.

“...Let’s go home, okay?” She whispered, her hand stroking his knuckles. He simply nodded and shut the door before climbing in himself. Johnny was already sitting behind her, his lips pressed in a pout as he caught her reflection on the side view mirror, staring out of the window at the pair of strangers that once held her heart in their hands.

After a few silent moments as they pulled out of the parking lot, Johnny reached over, presenting [Name] with a fresh candy apple with sprinkles on top. She took it from his fingers, chuckling to herself at how easy it was for them to draw a smile from here, even though her heart still stung a little.

"Thanks, love," she hummed, pressing a kiss to his wrist and knowing that Johnny was grinning proudly to himself. Simon's hand was warm on her thigh, a welcome weight that grounded her in the present.

She could grow her own tree, if she so wanted, with the people she loved the most.

A/N: poor bby Canary deserved better parents :(

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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months

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Cupid's Chokehold.

Yan Lucas x F Reader.

Synopsis: With your vision, lines are always blurred. But the one on your mind right now is the line where the basement is and where the warm, inviting stairs begin… and how little distance is too close to the woman shackled up.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, past not SFW implications (non-con), cannibalism, and depictions of violence/corpses.

Word Count: 1.2k.

a little fanwriting for the amazing @wri0thesley / @needleanddead's oc lucas! check them out if you haven't already! <333 (if you want me to take this down, please let me know!)

*~*~*~*

“Darling?”

The door Lucas had come through you had sworn you hadn’t seen before. It is like it came out of a fictional reality, in all senses of the words – the bricks seemed too gray, too monochrome to be real, the cracks so similar to each other it is like an animator gave up halfway through and scribbled straight lines downward, the dark brown stains of wet dirt on the carpet in front of it too large to be anything human.

“Yes?”

Lucas doesn’t like being ignored; he pulled your ear once because he thought you were. Despite your claims that you were not and simply just tired, which were all true, his pinching fingers continued to bite into you. He didn’t yell then, at least. Lucas never yelled at you, despite his temper and whomever he is screaming at when he sends you off to bed. His voice is the only voice you have heard for weeks.

You don’t hear even your own anymore after all your sobbing into your pillow that you do on the daily.

“Clean yourself up, alright?”

You don’t nod as quickly as you usually do.

Perhaps it is Stockholm Syndrome getting to you or the curious cat in you wondering where that door leads. Where either way leads you don’t like.

Just like the way the basement stairs lead you down and the stairs next to the kitchen lead you up.

After a raise of Lucas’ eyebrow and a cross of his arms, you hurriedly go on your merry way. It is almost like you are a child running after shutting off all the lights and returning to the safety net that is their room, except candles were still lit in lanterns and the fireplace still had enough wood to keep on burning.

You aren’t allowed to close your door. It is something you fought at first, weeks ago. But after some gripping on your hand that was far too tight to be anything less than a warning, you learned that sometimes things must be let go for better things.

Privileges you had before that you can still remember when you lived on your own and you were free and happy. Being able to change your clothes. Being able to walk to the farmer’s market by yourself. Being able to say no when someone touches you in ways you don’t want.

However, beggars can’t be choosers, especially ones that don’t exactly know what is in their kidnapper’s locked basement. Like the gates of hell, you want that door to remain shut despite wanting and wanting to know the horrors within. Isn’t that a human’s nature? To seek out things unbeknownst to them?

But it’s not like you don’t have a general idea. Lucas hasn’t come home as pissed off as of late – a sure sign that maybe less of the meat he cooked was a person’s arm or leg. You can’t be picky with your food either; you need energy and you need Lucas to not be mad and threaten to stick a feeding tube up your nose.

Lucas told you he didn’t have people down there, and for your sanity, you believed him. The steak tastes better when you don’t think about the cow being in the slaughterhouse. The waters keep calm when you don’t rummage around and throw yourself inside them.

A familiar hand sneaks around your neck, and your chest, and goes up to your mouth – but there is still enough distance for you to speak.

“I always liked that dress on you.”

You don’t scream and you don’t cover up your chest with your arms anymore – that would make him annoyed and, yes, not mad, but annoyed is still a bad emotion to feel when you are Lucas.

Instead, you continue to put on the pink frilly dress Lucas got you when he wanted to reward you for being good the previous night. You said you wanted him to go get something handmade and soft, he added the word ‘pretty’ to your request, and he came back with that. It isn’t the shortest thing in your admittedly full wardrobe, but it isn’t the longest either.

It still shows things you don’t want to show this man, this depraved killer.

But he’s here in this cottage with you and you can’t change when he wants to leave. You can’t change where you are when you are with him.

An idea pops into your head at that very moment.

You can change when he leaves sometimes, when you ask.

“Luke?” The nickname is forced out of your throat, yet echoes so naturally in Lucas’ ears.

“Yes, angel?” He sounds even more excited, most likely because your tone is filled with such saccharine affection.

“Can you make a small trip for me? Please?”

*~*~*~*

With the door shut, you cannot see the thirty or more steps you have to continue to take to get to the bottom. When you had gotten on the fifth or so though there was a dusty chain dancing on top of your hair. Against your better judgment, you pulled.

The light wasn’t the brightest and flickered with each blink of your eyes, but it was better than nothing. It seemed so filthy however that you presume Lucas doesn’t use it very much – either he has better vision than you or he uses one of the candlelit lanterns he fancies from the sitting room.

There is a creak on one of the floorboards. It almost makes you fall down the stairs because of how suddenly your heart jumps. No, the town is about an hour away. Lucas wouldn’t be here, it is only you making those sounds.

“Lucas?”

The voice is so raspy it is like another creak on the floorboard. It essentially reaches out to you like a snake, ready to swallow you whole.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

The second time the person speaks, you are better at identifying them. It sounds more feminine than Lucas’, although that didn’t say much. Perhaps a fellow woman.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I… I’m sorry I bit you… I’m sorry… I… I’m so sorry…”

“Lucas… is out…”

You’re not sure if you should have said that. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all before she took a look at you and she had the opportunity to ask any questions she had. From how she screams and cries and how you hear chains shake, she probably either thinks you’re a savior or an accomplice.

“Oh God!”

After you reach the final step, you stop. Your bare feet don’t touch the dirty floor – the stairs are cleaner, and the thought of getting too close scares you for some reason. The woman doesn’t care, you think, because what comes out of her mouth are inconsistent ramblings waiting to be answered by you and only you – about him, about you, about everything that has happened since she was locked up down here.

“Why are you here?” She asks.

The bucket beside her smells, and the boxes on the far end of the basement have flies going inside through little holes centipedes and cockroaches also use.

“He… He left the door unlocked. …Why?”

She screams again.

You almost scream too, but you don’t know what for. Yet.

#yandere #yandere x reader #author aya #other's ocs #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #self indulgent tuesday #but on wednesday

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cowboymeemaw · 3 months

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Why name your livestock?

Why do I, as a farmer who shows and raises terminal (market) stock name them?

I get this question frequently because naming these animals does make it easier to get attached, and harder to let go of. So why do I do it?

Well for a short answer first, they're animals I love. Doesn't matter if it's market or not to me, naming them make others realize they are more than just food.

Take Elton for example.

He is a market barrow, a blue butt light cross who is in my show string. His purpose to me is to show and then sell.

But he not just an object. He is a living breathing creature that I spend all my time caring for. I give him a name because I give him a life.

Before I see the profit I make off these animals, I see the animal itself. I see everything it does and how it acts. I see how giving it a name, in some sense, gives it respect. I respect my stock for living, for providing, and for listening to me (especially in show stock). So when I name them to myself I'm showing I respect this creature for living.

In a less, metaphorical sense I'll say, naming also easily allows for records to be taken. It's the same way others call their stock by tag numbers

#I started this knowing what I wanted to say and ended it just yapperin on #Farm #Farmable #Homestead #Farming #Pig #Pigs #Cute pigs #Livestock

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stardust-swan · 1 year

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Chic Cottagecore Plans for Autumn 🍂🍄🥀

🍄 Make: apple pie, fancy hot chocolates, different types of soup, homemade pumpkin spice mix, cinnamon rolls, mushroom risotto, root vegetable tarte tatin, pumpkin tagine, homemade tea blends, and preserves and syrups for winter

🍄 Crochet or knit

🍄 Embroider some mushrooms

🍄 Watch the Harry Potter series, Kiki's Delivery Service, Frankenweenie, Hocus Pocus, Coraline, the Addams Family, the Corpse Bride, the Nightmare Before Christmas, Twilight, Dead Poets Society, Labrynth, A Series of Unfortunate Events, the Love Witch, Jennifer's Body, Carrie, Rocky Horror Show Picture, the Witches, Maleficent, Monster House, and Paranorman.

🍄 Read Gothic novels, Jane Austen, The Little Book of Hygge, and Autumnal poetry

🍄 Go to Starbucks and Costa and try out some of the new drinks they have for Autumn

🍄 Take walks in nature and admire the trees changing colour

🍄 Play games like Animal Crossing and Stardew Valley

🍄 Curl up with a good book, blanket, fluffy socks, and cup of cinnamon tea when the weather is bad

🍄 Take Polaroids of the fall foliage

🍄 Light cinnamon scented candles

🍄 Put a pouch of whole cloves in the sweater drawer

🍄 Listen to the Taylor Swift Folklore and Evermore albums

🍄 Make an Autumn floral arrangement

🍄 Make pinecone bird seed feeder

🍄 Make Autumn terrarium

🍄 Visit the Farmers Market to find seasonal foods for Autumn like pumpkins, apple cider, and gourds

🍄 Plant bulbs for spring

🍄 Go to a candlelight concert

🍄 Look up art galleries and concert halls to see if there are any exhibitions or events on with Autumn themes

🍄 Wardrobe: soft sweaters, turtlenecks, high-waisted jeans, cardigans, flannels, plaid skirts, woollen dresses, opaque tights, trench coats, crocheted scarves, Doc Martins, chunky Mary Janes. Colour scheme: burgundy, forest green, tan, black, plum, mustard yellow, olive, terracotta, and burnt orange.

🍄 Makeup: copper eyeshadow, terracotta or berry lipstick, brown eyeliner, subtle gold highlight

#cottagecore inspo #cottagecore aesthetic #cottagecore #cottage aesthetic #cozy cottage #autumn #autumncore #autumn mood #chic #chic aesthetic #fall aesthetic #fallcore #halloween #halloweencore #autumn aesthetic #autumn ideas #girlblogging #stardust swan

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invisiblequeen · 5 months

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For @blvckentropy 's Double Shot At Love Challenge: Kierra Wright

Name: Kierra Wright Age: 28 Orientation: Straight Aspiration: Country Caretaker Traits: Cheerful, Music Lover, Animal Enthusiast

SKILLS: Baking: 3 Charisma: 6 Cleaning:4 Cooking: 5 Cross-Stick:5 Gardening:7 Piano:2 Handiness:5 Photography: 3

Hailing from Henford-On-Bagley, Kierra Wright is the living embodiment of Cottagecore. From her lush-green crops to her pampered farm animals, she is well-known and beloved in her community as the first one ready at the Farmer’s Market and the last one dancing at the bar.

You’d think she’d be content to settle with a nice fellow farmer, but to everyone’s surprise, Kierra seeks the exact opposite. As she so eloquently puts it, “What’s the point of having a partner if they’re just like you?” So when she saw the DS Challenge and took one look at Richie, a wild boy with hopes of settling down, our girl entered her name with no hesitation.

“I’m tired of being the first to come, last to leave. I want a good man coming and leaving with me.”

Could Richie be that good man?

PRIVATE DOWNLOAD

#sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims4 #simblr #n0bodysims #ts4 #the sims 4 bachelor challenge #sims 4 bachelor challenge #DSChallenge #BC Hopefuls #BC Challenge

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intergalactic-io · 1 year

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I’ve said this on other platforms, but nobody gives a shit or even really hears me, so I’m coming here to further scream into the void

You cannot be creative if you use AI

If you create AI art, you are not creative.

If you use AI to write, you are not creative.

To put it in simpler terms…

If you babysit a child, you are not the child’s parent.

If you buy vegetables at the market, you are not a farmer.

If you buy prepared food, you are not a chef.

AI creations are amalgamations of other people’s work. They are not your work.

“But I crafted the prompt, thus I created.”

No, you’re a fucking thief. You arranged the corpses of other people’s imaginations.

You’re less than a taxidermist who stuffs and molds the flesh animals to reflect what they were in life. A taxidermist is not God—you are not an artist.

AI writing has filled the internet to the brim. Every blog is loaded with AI-written clickbait that summarizes AI-written articles from other publications, leading to a whirlpool of bullshit online. It’s even worse on Amazon, a vile company that gleefully sells all sorts of scam shit. Amazon’s e-book and print-on-demand sections—once populated by writers earnestly trying to get their creations to see the light of day—are now filled with AI drek, both from AI-evangelist assholes and pure scum who don’t bother to actually read whatever the algorithm has spat out.

Worst of all are writers who are creative, but utilize AI art. These writers are human blood-traitors.

A mutual explained that some writers resort to AI art because they can’t afford a real artist to make a cover, and covers can sell books. And it’s a decent explanation… to a degree. But it doesn’t change the fact that they are still killing human creativity.

Look at these excuses:

I want a cover, but I can’t pay an artist

I want to make art but I don’t have the skills

I want to write but I have no time

Compare them to these excuses:

I want to drive a racecar but don’t know how to drive

I want to live in a mansion but have no money

I want to go to Mars but it’s literally impossible because I’m not an astronaut and rocketry isn’t advanced enough to get us there, especially the radiation shielding absolutely needed to cross the expanse of space beyond Earth’s magnetosphere that everyone forgets about because they don’t know shit about outer space

Brothers, Sisters, Everyone…

IF YOU CAN’T DO IT, YOU CAN’T DO IT

If you can’t afford an artist, then you save your fucking money until you can

If you can’t save your money, then you can’t get your “dream cover” without betraying your creativity

You are not owed the ability to do a thing if you have no gumption to actually do it

Guess what—

You get better at art by making art

You get better at writing by actually writing

People in wheelchairs who want to play basketball can play basketball. There are entire leagues for people in wheelchairs. But those people in wheelchairs practice basketball—that’s how they get good at it.

In closing

Fuck AI art

Fuck AI writing

And fuck you for thinking you “create” by stealing something

#writing #writerscommunity #writers strike #art #ai artwork #ai is not art #ai is theft #ai is a plague #ai is stupid #ai #rant #screaming into the tumblr void

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