#tuesday farm box

[alex51324]

Another Tuesday, another farm box! This is week 16.

My fruits are Another Giant Watermelon, 5 peaches, and some blackberries! All good stuff, but TBH I was expecting a little more variety on the fruit side of things.

For vegetables I have carrots, kale, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, eggplants, yellow squash, garlic, and cucumbers.

I don't quite have a plan yet. Anyone have ideas about the eggplant? I've already done ratatouille, stir fry, and eggplant parmesan, which is about 3 times the number of eggplant recipes I make in a normal year.

I'm also pretty much out of ideas about squash, too.

For the rest, I guess I'll buy some spinach and make salad again, IDK. Unless someone has a suggestion?

The garlic I don't have to worry about, and I can always do kale chips if I need to get rid of kale. I also still have beets, red cabbage, and potatoes from earlier weeks. Oh, and a pepper I missed earlier; that's getting pretty old.

[impala-dreamer]

Tourniquet - Chapter Seven

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works ~ Get A Custom Story

Summon All Hope

It was hard to stay away from him too long, but there was always something to do and Y/N never quite felt that she was really a part of their story. It was Sam and Dean, not Sam, Dean, and Y/N. Anyway, she had her own adventures, her own scenes to play out. Sure, she’d never brought anyone back to life or, apparently, triggered the Apocalypse, but she had some important episodes under her belt. 

In 2008, she’d helped to successfully take out a conglomerate of vampires who were kidnapping and draining virgins from across the country and selling their blood around the world to hungry monsters with deep pockets. Sometimes, they even sold the young girls fresh and alive, more of a farm to table operation. Y/N and her father put an end to that. Took a few months, but they did it, and Y/N had a few new scars to prove it. 

The end of 2009 was rough. 

After a fight with her father, Y/N had gone off on her own, driving until her old truck finally gave out in a little town outside of New Orleans. Finding the weather terrible but warm, she settled in, got a crappy little apartment, and even met someone. He had green eyes that reminded her of Dean, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was too soft, too kind. Not that Dean was unkind to her, ever, but he never showed it until the lights were out and pillows were warm. No, Travis was unlike anyone else in her life and perhaps that’s why she grew so attached. He played guitar and read books and cooked breakfast for her every morning. 

While she still hunted, the monsters seemed to be leaving her alone; that life faded into the background. She was happy, mostly. 

At night when the moon was full and the wind warm, she liked to sit in the courtyard behind her apartment building and look up at the sky. Just like in that old movie with the mice in New York City, she often wondered if Dean was looking up at the moon along with her. She wondered where he was, wondered if he was alright. Most nights she would fall asleep out there, arms wrapped around herself, mind far away with The Boy with the Green Eyes.

At the end of April, Travis vanished mysteriously right out of their bed one Tuesday night. Knowing he wouldn’t just up and leave without a word, Y/N panicked and called her father to help her search for him. 

The leads were as cold as the bed she refused to sleep in again. After a week, his body washed up in the mud along Honey Island. The coroner’s report listed the cause of death as drowning and noted the apparent exsanguination from an alligator attack, but she knew better. Those weren’t animal bites, they were retaliation.

Guilt racked her insides. If she had only been more careful, if she’d taught him about the dark side of the universe, if she’d only loved him as much as she loved-

It didn’t matter. Travis was gone and she was back on the road with her father. 

Another town, another tragedy. That was life. 

The Winchesters were never too far from her mind. In fact, her phone would often ring with a random text from Sam just checking in, or a call from Dean late at night. 

She always answered. No matter how tired, no matter how beaten down. She always took his call, always answered his texts, emails, letters. 

The letters were a little harder to deal with as they came months and sometimes years apart. She kept a P.O. Box in Lansing, Michigan, but could only check it while swinging by on jobs. At times, the box would be empty, and others, full to the brim with postcards or letters stuffed into dingy white envelopes sporting random motel names. 

She always smiled when she saw the big, heavy block letters spelling her name. 

He mostly wrote to her when he was bored, the letters full of musings about the future or weaving tales about cases they had closed. They were a tiny peek into the script of his life, and Y/N loved every one. 

The calls were less enjoyable. 

While she lived to hear his voice, ached to hear him whisper her name, the calls were never good ones. 

He called when he was at the end of his rope, when the world had beaten him so far down that the only thing he could do was crawl on his belly through the muck and bleed himself dry. He called when he was sure he was dying, when he needed to hear a voice from the past, something constant that he could rely on never leaving him like so much in his life had. He called when he was drunk and lonely, when he was laid up with a broken bone, when he was horny and no one was interested in a bruised face and ripped jeans.

Y/N was always interested, always there to listen, to hold his hand across the miles. She gave him everything she could and never asked for anything in return but to hear him laugh by the end of a call. She needed to know that he could still smile, that it wasn’t too late for him. 

It was May when he called. 

Y/N had just cleaned up after an exorcism that left her a little bit bloody and a whole lot aching. 

The phone rang while she was in the shower and she should have ignored it, but she knew who it was. Something about that ring always told her it was Dean. 

Water dripped from her hair as she answered. 

“Hey, Y/N/N.” 

His voice was deep and heavy; traces of tears lingered on his slow tongue. 

She closed her eyes, gripped the phone tight. “Dean? Hey, what’s going on?” 

“Where are you?” 

Her stomach flipped. He hadn’t asked to see her in years, hadn’t had a chance to. 

“Little motel outside of Pinecreek, Minnesota.” 

He cleared his throat and Y/N could see him in her head; the crease between his eyes deepening, the tightness of his jaw. 

“Can you meet me? I’m- uh- I’m leaving Chicago now. Headed back to Bobby’s.” 

Bobby. It’d been too long away from him as well. 

Y/N swallowed down her nerves. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Tell me where…” 

The neon diner lights were ridiculously bright, bouncing not only out into the night, but back into the booth. Their faces were bathed in pink; half-eaten burgers glowing on their plates.

“So…” Y/N was still reeling from all the information he’d given. She believed every word, it was just hard to believe that the fate of everything laid squarely on the shoulders of that little boy with his nose in a book. 

Dean nodded solemnly. “Yeah.” 

“Wow.” 

He hummed in agreement and set his elbows on the table, hung his head between his hands. 

She didn’t know what to say, the words were still processing in her head, trying to filter their way down to her lips, but it was too much. 

“What are you gonna do?” she asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. 

Green eyes shot up through the cave of his hands. 

“What can I do? I either end the fucking world or lose my brother.” 

Her chest ached. 

“This isn’t fair, Dean. Fuck. This isn’t fair at all.” 

He laughed under his breath. “Yeah, well, when has my life ever been fair?” 

Suddenly freezing, Y/N closed her arms around herself, shrank down into the ugly brown vinyl seat. The springs creaked and Dean lifted his head, just watching her, staring hard. 

“I know what I have to do,” he said in a gruff whisper. “But… Y/N, what if I can’t do it? What if I can’t stand there and watch him die again?”

“Again.” She laughed because it was absurd. Tears welled because it was horrifying. 

Dean smiled. 

“You know what I mean.” 

And she did, better than anyone. 

Y/N took a breath and looked away, eyeing the empty dessert display on the counter. They should have gone somewhere with pie. Damnit. 

“I know,” she said sadly. “I also know you. And I know that no matter what it takes from you, how much it kills you… You always do what you think is best. And what you think is best, is usually the right thing to do.” 

Dean sucked in a breath and sat upright, but it didn’t stop a single tear from dragging down his cheek. He swatted it away and bit his lip, clearly struggling but sure. “I know. It fucking sucks but I know.” 

Silence fell and the pair sat in the nearly empty diner, food growing cold on their plates. Y/N picked up a french fry just to have something to do but the smell of it close to her mouth made her gut churn. 

It fell back down onto the pile. Discarded, abandoned. 

Dean cleared his throat, done with the pain. 

“Wanna see something cool?” he asked, reaching into his jacket pocket. 

Y/N raised a brow. “If it’s what I’m thinking, I’ve already seen it. Also, put it away, we’re in public.” 

His cheeks glowed with a smile and a wave of relief washed over her. He would be OK. Eventually. 

“It’s not that,” he confessed. “Not yet, anyway.” 

Onto the table, he placed three ornate antique rings down in a wide triangle configuration. A fourth he kept tight in his hand. 

“What’s all this?” she asked, leaning in. 

“Rings from the Four Horsemen,” he said softly, gaze locked on the rings. 

“Of the Apocalypse?” she laughed. 

He did not. 

“Yeah. And this one belongs to Death.” He held out the ring and then placed it on the table top. “Watch.” 

He pushed the fourth ring towards the others and as if by magic, they moved on their own, coming together with a clink of metal and fusing into one piece. 

Y/N’s eyes were wide, her lips agape. “That is cool.” 

A half smile turned his mouth. “Told ya.” 

“Can I?” She reached for the rings and he nodded. They were heavy, solid, and she held it up to the pink light, examining the markings. “This is weird. What do you do with it? I assume it’s something major if you had to steal it from Death Himself.”

Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Actually, he gave it to me.” 

Her breath stopped. “Death? You just casually met Death and he gave you his ring like you’re old buddies…” 

“We kinda are. Ish. I don’t know. He ate a lot of pizza. And he’s creepy looking.” 

She laughed. She had to. “Wow. I missed a lot.” 

Gently, he took the rings from her. He didn’t ignore, but didn’t draw attention to the spark he felt as their fingers touched. 

“This… thing… opens Lucifer’s cage. And Sam is going to jump into it, with Lucifer locked inside him.”

Y/N stayed quiet, unable to come up with anything to say. She couldn’t claim she was close to Sam, but he had always been there, a little brother on the edges of her life. It didn’t matter how deeply she felt for Sam, what mattered was how it was killing Dean to say it all out loud. How it was ripping him apart inside to have to do what he had to do. 

“Dean, I-” 

He cut her off, jamming the rings back into his pocket. He took a breath and smiled. 

“You wanna get outta here?” 

The backseat wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was familiar. Dean laid down a blanket and then Y/N, carefully undressing her with wet kisses and calloused hands. 

She fell back against the seat, naked and chilled, waiting for him. 

The old lug nut pendant hung down between her breasts and Dean looked down in awe. 

“You still wear this old thing?” he asked, ghosting his fingers over the top of the metal.

She looked up with a loving gaze and nodded. “Of course. You gave it to me.” 

He licked his lip and shook his head. “It’s junk.” 

Her hand closed around his wrist and she tugged him down to kiss the lie out of his mouth. 

“It’s my lucky charm…” 

Morning broke with golden light and Dean stirred, smiling when he realized Y/N was snoring in his lap. Carefully, he prodded at her shoulder and she sucked in a heavy breath, waking. 

“Hey…” 

“Mornin’.” 

Y/N sat up and rubbed at her eyes. “We shoulda gotten a room.”

He chuckled softly. “Ain’t nothing we haven’t done before. Besides, my baby’s more comfy than some old germy motel bed.” 

She shrugged and cracked her neck. “Yeah. I guess so.” 

Dean swallowed hard and chewed his lip, trying to muddle through his emotions. 

Y/N peeked through her shirt as she tugged it on. “What’s wrong?” 

“I feel like an asshole sayin’ this, but… I really gotta get going. I wasn’t planning on staying the night and-”

Her heart sank just a little bit but she braved through it. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. 

“No…” She waved him off. “I get it. Places to go, worlds to save.” 

He stared off, past her, past the window, past the sky. Thinking, worrying, dying inside. 

Y/N took a chance. “I can come with you. I don’t know what the whole plan is, but you’re gonna need… I don’t know, support? Moral or otherwise.”

He shook his head, pursed his lips. “No.” 

She lay a hand on his knee. “Dean, you don’t have to do this alone.” 

He took a breath, closed his eyes, covered her hand with his. “I do. Don’t want to, but I have to.” 

Defeat and worry spread through her like branches. 

“Will you… will you call me when it’s done? I just… Promise you’ll call me.” 

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Of course I will.” 

His smile was short and soft, his eyes wet and dark. 

He never called. 

Tourniquet Tags:@prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303   @cookiechipdough @ladysparkles78

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05   

[steddieas-shegoes]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers.

Ahhhhh!!!!

Okay actually so many things make me happy. I’m gonna say the five things that have made me happy this week:

1. Tuesday's Gone With the Wind by @thisapplepielife. I had the tab open for 8 months. I'm not kidding that's how long I kept going past this one and reading shorter things. And then @wormdebut and @wynnyfryd were like "FUCKING READ IT!!!!" and I do listen to them and trust them unless. Anyways, this is my favorite fic of all fucking time now. Like, of any ship and fandom I have ever read. I cannot be more serious than I am right now.

2. Tissues with lotion. Do you know how many boxes of tissues I have used in the last two weeks? Do you know when a person can possibly run out of snot? Please let me know if you know the answer to the second one. Until then, I am continuously happy for tissues with lotion so my nose doesn't get rubbed right off.

3. The rink bartender. She's been having a rough time lately, but she is always so lovely. I've been fighting pneumonia for...too long now...and because I'm on a lot of meds, I've been skipping my mixed drinks, but she's still made me some VERY yummy mocktails and only rings them up as regular sodas because not all heroes wear capes.

4. Writing for @corrodedcoffinfest! I finished all the warm up rounds and got started on the real challenge drabbles. You guys are gonna be so sick of seeing me write about Gareth by the end of it, but I am thriving.

5. Getting to go to the farm soon! I am not an outdoors person here because it's miserable. But I do love the peace of being able to go to the farm with just me and Liam and pretend we are actually existing in our own world for a bit. Plus, it helps me write to have complete silence for a bit.

Thank you!!!

[shizucheese]

So I realized that whatever Stuff I had set up for my blog to promote myself seems to have vanished into the aether, so I guess it's time for me to do the whole Pinned Post thing. Hello everyone! I'm a vtuber on Twitch who recently also started streaming on Youtube, now that Twitch allows for simulcasting. I primarily stream Final Fantasy and other JRPGs, and as of this year I plan on doing unplanned streams playing Synth Riders and maybe a few other games (assuming I can get certain ducks into a row). I am currently streaming FFXIV, replaying the whole game on a fresh character doing all content at minimum item level (except the Coils, because fuck that).

I'm also a writer, but I've been out of the writing game for a while because Life has been kicking my ass for the past few years, but keep an eye out, for both fanfiction and original work, because I'm working on things and when they're ready for public consumption I will be posting about it here. Other things I will likely post about: The Magnus Arcives, The Magnus Protocol, and other horror podcasts. Baldur's Gate 3. Eventually once I get my shit together (I just moved last year and things are still in boxes), cosplay, dice making and other crafting stuff. Politics. (I'll try to keep that last one to a minimum but fucking Vote you guys, and fact check literally everything you see and hear on social media.) Make sure to follow, like and subscribe! ;D

--Streaming Sechdule--

Tuesdays starting at 7:30 pm

Wednesdays starting t 7:30 pm

Sundays staring at 4:30 pm

--Where to find me--

[lady-jane-asher]

Jane Asher and Gawn Grainger as Juliet Capulet and Romeo in “Romeo and Juliet” presentation while being on tour in the USA, 1967. Part 2. 🩶

Previously posted pictures with my old username, updating it with the new one.

Old Vic Brings First Spoken Drama to The Music Center. By Cecil Smith. Los Angeles times— March 5th, 1967.

It seems a curious bit of scheduling to have the Bristol Old Vic in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion of The Music Center, opening a three-week season of Shakespeare Tuesday night.The company is doing the first spoken drama ever performed in the new complex and it arrives on the threshold, the very eve, of the twin openings of the new theaters designed primarily for drama next month. Not that the spoken word is a stranger to the Pavilion. Some of the more interesting musical plays produced there, notably "Fiddler on the Roof," have been as dependent on their dramatic as on their musical structure. And if the Pavilion is fundamentally a music hall, still the verbal music of Shakespeare can be as stirring and compelling as any instrumental or vocal music ever devised. No one plays this music better than a British ensemble and among the great companies of England the Bristol Old Vic is considered one of the best. No less an authority than Sir Tyrone Guthrie says it is among the world's finest acting companies and that its managing director, Val May, is an immensely vital force in the English-speaking theater.

Suited the Action

Sir Tyrone suited the action to the word by staging the production of "Measure for Measure" that opens the BOV season here. May directed the production of "Hamlet" that enters the repertory Thursday and the "Romeo and Juliet" that will open next week. The three plays will rotate through March 25. The Bristol Old Vic was initially formed in 1946 as an offshoot, a sort of farm club for London's justly celebrated Old Vic. When the latter was melded into the British National Theater three years ago, the BOV became an independent entity.

It is supported by an annual grant of 40,000 pounds from the Federal Arts Council, plus a grant from the city of Bristol and its thriving box offices in two theaters-the legendary Theater Royal and its new Little Theater. But even in its days as m the outpost of the London company, the Bristol Old Vic had an individuality and a spirit all its own. I remember when the parent organization was in the Philharmonic on one of its tours some years ago, I asked John Neville, who was playing Hamlet, what his plans were after the tour, and he said he was leaving the London company to return to Bristol. I asked him why. "It's more adventurous, more experimental, more daring and," he smiled, "more fun."

Although the BOV is only doing Shakespeare on this first American tour under the sponsorship of S. Hurok, the Bard is not its primary product in England. The company is known as an innovator, launching new plays and new playwrights, trying new areas of stagecraft, new methods and new approaches. It was in the vanguard of the new wave of British drama that spawned Pinter, Shaffer, Osborne, Arden, Wesker, and others. It was the first company to produce an English version of Erwin Piscator's "War and Peace" (later staged with immense success in this country by the APA) and it first provided a stage for such plays as "A Severed Head" and "The Killing of Sister George." ⠀⠀⠀

The company has a vigorous acting school and training program that has a spawned a legendary crop of stars, among them Rosemary Harris, Peter O'Toole, Dorothy Tutin and Paul Rogers. m Although the concentration is on youth, many an established star has played at Bristol, including Wendy Hiller, Moira Shearer, Pamela Brown and Neville.

The Hamlet of the current company is one of England's brightest young stars, Richard Pasco. He's little known in this country, though he was in the movie "Room at the Top" and played Broadway with Laurence Olivier in

"The Entertainer." Pasco, who also plays the key role of Angelo in "Measure for Measure," told a Times correspondent in Bristol recently that he sees Hamlet as "a fish out of water." "He's plunked right in the middle of all this political intrigue and violence and that's what he hates most— violence," Pasco said.

He approves director May's decision to set the play in the Napoleonic era-"lots of conspiracy and blood around in those days." Pasco said his first West End job as an actor was in "Hamlet"-playing Fortinbras to the prince of Paul Scofield. He feels Scofield saw the character as "an angry young man." "Yet," said Pasco, "he's really pretty cool. He likes to think about things-in a world that likes to act. Not that he's unable to take care of himself—he learned that as a soldier. But he's a scholar who knows that violence only leads to more violence. It's not in his nature to do the things that have to be done.

That's the terrible part." Pasco was the original angry young man—he played Jimmy Porter in the English Stage Company's famous production of "Look Back in Anger" in 1956, which launched the new wave of British drama. Most of his career has been in classical repertory though he's also starred in British television and movies. He joined the Bristol Old Vic in 1964 for its first tour of Europe, which extended as far as Israel.

Famous member⠀⠀⠀

Actually, the most famous member of the current troupe is its Juliet, 20-year old Jane Asher-particularly with the miniskirt set. The fame that preceded her had nothing to do with her acting but her fan magazine reputation as the girl friend of Beatle Paul McCartney, which has brought out swarms of teenagers on the cross-country tour. In proper repertory fashion, she balances Juliet with the tiny role of Julietta in "Measure for Measure." There are other players quite celebrated in Britain among them, John Franklyn Robbins, Frank Barrie, Madge Ryan, Frank Middlemass, Gwan Granger, Barbara Leigh-Hunt. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

But as in the National Theater, the Comedie Francaise, the Moscow Art Theater, one goes to see an ensemble, not an individual. This is a new wrinkle in this country but with the success of such ensembles as the APA, ACT and others, it's gaining momentum. There's an immense sense of pride in the Bristol company and in its homebase theater, the 200-year-old Theater Royal in cred Eritain on a heater where Sarah Siddons played and Edmund Kean, William Charles Macready, Jenny Lind, Henry Irving and Ellen, Terry-the ghost of Mrs. Siddons is said to stalk its stage.

Some feel it prophetic that the Blitz, which levered much of Bristol, spared the theater. Val May accompanied his players to this country and stayed with them through their highly acclaimed New York openings, then returned to Bristol to prepare his spring season, which includes such varied offerings as "The Hostage," "The Taming of the Shrew," Galsworthy's "Strife" and Pinter's "The Homecoming."

Among three new plays to be produced is one by American author Robert Rich, "Message from the Grassroots," a play about Malcolm X with an all-white cast.

Dr. Guthrie met the troupe in Philadelphia to brush up his initial staging of "Measure for Measure," that blackest of black comedies, which was much condemned in Victorian England for its outspoken attitudes on sex and morals and its cynicism. Dr. Guthrie told me later he was quite pleased with the production and it was greeted in Philadelphia, Boston and New York with warmth and a goodly share of critical hosannas.

The play is out of Shakespeare's middle period when he was at the height of his powers, written at about the time he wrote "Othello," after "Hamlet" and prior to "Lear." Although labeled a comedy, it is quite a serious work and tragedy is narrowly averted and then only through good fortune. It's easy to see how it shocked the Victorians, dealing with the stern enforcer of a Viennese law holding fornication illegal and punishable by death.

When a young man gets his girl with child, he is sentenced to die, and his sister, a novice in a nunnery, offers her own chastity in exchange for her brother's life. What particularly upset the Victorians was Shakespeare's straightforward appraisal of humanity, as when he has the wry Pompey ask the young governor if, to enforce the law, he plans "to geld and spay all the youth of the city?" Eras change. The candor that delights one age shocks another and can delight a third. But what endures is the essential truth in the poet in his evaluation of man for all his vice and folly.

When he has Angelo say: "They say best men are moulded out of faults, and, for the most part, become much the better for being a little bad," it's downright comforting.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

#20yrsago Waldrop: 1954 was a GREAT time to be a kid http://www.infinitematrix.net/columns/waldrop/waldrop13.html

#15yrsago Seder for liberated robots https://web.archive.org/web/20090816092953/https://papersky.livejournal.com/443771.html

#15yrsago Adobe: Once you license software in France, you can only use it in French https://web.archive.org/web/20090814174633/http://www.mcelhearn.com/?p=670

#15yrsago Visualizing a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure book https://flowingdata.com/2009/08/11/choose-your-own-adventure-most-likely-youll-die/

#15yrsago EVE Online creates exotic financial instrument to combat gold-farming https://web.archive.org/web/20090813113841/http://www.massively.com/2009/08/11/the-fight-against-rmt-in-eve-online/

#15yrsago Anti-health-care loon says Stephen Hawking wouldn’t stand a chance under British health care system https://web.archive.org/web/20090806222911/https://www.ibdeditorials.com/IBDArticles.aspx?id=333933006516877

#5yrsago Imagineering In a Box: free instructional video series from Disney and Khan Academy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dv7sBCHvBEA

#5yrsago Brazil’s highest court rules that Bolsonaro cannot use criminal investigations to harass Glenn Greenwald and The Intercept https://www.commondreams.org/news/2019/08/09/huge-victory-press-freedom-brazil-supreme-court-bars-bolsonaro-investigating-glenn

#5yrsago Donor maps show just how widespread Sanders’ support is https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/08/02/us/politics/2020-democratic-fundraising.html

#5yrsago Big Pharma’s origin: how the Chicago School and private equity shifted medicine’s focus from health to wealth https://newrepublic.com/article/149438/big-pharma-captured-one-percent

#5yrsago Adversarial Fashion: clothes designed to confuse license-plate readers https://adversarialfashion.com/collections/all

#1yrago The Sacklers woulda gotten away with it if it wasn't for those darned meddling feds https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/11/justice-delayed/#justice-redeemed

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

[kazumahashimoto]

He held off the two biggest, baddest war machines BY HIMSELF that one time as if it was a regular Tuesday.

He's a giant hypocrite and a goofy dad.

He's the only one who looks at himself becoming a monster and goes "someone should stop me" instead of going psycho.

He's Angeal Hewley.

Uh anyway, um, an ask...

How many times can his farm boy muscles bench press Sephiroth before he gets tired?

well firstly i'd like to apologize for the wall of text i'm about to give you but unfortunately you HAVE just activated my trap card by calling angeal a dad. i feel strongly about this o7

angeal is, plain and simple, not old enough to be zack's dad and i truly feel like that is an important distinction. angeal is 25. he should be at the club joke. but literally like, he is far too young and zack is too old for this to work.

besides that point, i feel like slapping the Dad label onto angeal is reductive not only of his character but also of his relationship with zack. "dadgeal" is a quick and simple, small quirky way to describe their relationship to one another. not saying you constantly have to wax poetic about them (the way i like to LOL) but it gives them a certain flavor they simply do not have.

the relationship between zack and angeal is a complicated one. and it's not that i can't see the paternal aspects of the way angeal treats him, but at the same time it's so much more than that. like i think i said this somewhere a few months ago but to me the paternal aspects of angeal are more like, accidentally calling your teacher "mom" because as a kid at school a teacher fills a similar role in that space, or a teacher referring to their students as Their kids, because at school they might as well be. but kids don't generally Really see their teachers as their parents, or teachers viewing students as their actual kids. there's nuance. and with angeal, especially from zack's perspective, they have more than just a student and teacher or mentor and mentee relationship. they also have something different from a father and son relationship.

even for me as someone who enjoys viewing them in a brotherly fashion, i think one of the most important pieces to understanding their relationship is when zack is knocked out after falling through the church's roof, imagining talking to his mom, when he says, "i want to help out a friend."

a friend. not something vague like "someone important to me", or even something more distant like "my mentor", what he calls angeal is a friend. despite the fact that angeal is nine years older than him, is higher ranked than him, and is in a direct position of authority over him, zack first and foremost views him as his friend. this shows his innocence he still has, it shows how deeply he cares for angeal in such a simple yet important way. zack sees angeal as his friend before anything else.

this is where i think the paternal aspects really reduce their relationship, trying to fit it into an easier box to make cheeky jokes about, rather than acknowledging how, especially on zack's end, he does not view angeal in that way.

and i don't think angeal views zack as being his son either, at least not seriously. like, i can envision him referring to zack and others as "son" that way older men do with boys just cos he feels like the type to try and Act beyond his years, but he's still just 25. he's not gonna see a sixteen year old as being his kid like that.

it's kind of late rn so i feel like i'm losing my train of thought here a bit but the bottom line for me is that zack and angeal just don't ever treat each other like father and son. they're obsessed with each other and thinking about each other constantly and angeal wants to protect him and zack looks up to him, but that doesn't make them father and son, even in a cute quick jokey way. they are friends. zack does not just see angeal as a figure of authority over him, he sees him as his friend. no need to replace that with a different type of authority figure.

anyway, to answer your question, theoretically if sephiroth were to allow himself to be bench pressed, i think angeal could do it long enough to have me staring gayly at his arms the whole time

[beingharsh]

General Mills, Inc. P.O. Box 9452 Minneapolis, Minnesota 55440 United States Dear Old El Paso, I am also old and was born thumbless. (And I have been to the cacti plains and stockyards of El Paso while SHOPPING alone.) Haggard. Lines on my face like a roadmap although no one these days knows how to read a roadmap, do they? Or how to name a bird, build a low tire fire, eat a charred cow with pocketknife, smell the stars, run a trotline, play a spoon, bang a gong, get it on, wrestle a wounded coyote to the ground, and so on. When I was a kid no one even gave us schoolbooks. You had to write your own book, at home, bind it yourself (mine was mostly sestinas about farm animals and made of cornstalks and barbed wire), and walk to school through THE DREADFUL VALLEY while pushing your books in a wheelbarrow. But I digress.   As most know by now, my wife was hit by lightning while skinny-dipping. I am RESPONSIBLE for numerous kids! Eight are mine but we HELP out others round these parts (over by the White River Bridge, eastside, respect). Weary is my forehead. Like everyone decent and good I know, we lost the farm. A corporation took it and gave it to Japan. I moved to Indiana and now commute to work outside Memphis, Tennessee as a janitor for a chemical company. Poorly paid and dangerous as TETRAHYDRAFURFURAN. Brimstone and greed. Starlings fly over and drop dead. One day my Camry exploded. We have an inside guy with OSHA and we get tips if they are coming for inspection, I'm sorry. I've seen a forklift take flight off a building and crush a secretary. We don't get BBQ, iced tea, or medical, not free. I could name the chemical company, but I will not. It rhymes with Poo Font. And HOW do I FEED all those kids? I'm glad you asked. Carp tacos. Five days a week. (We eat cattail reeds pulled from the marshy shoulder of highway 40 on weekends.) Each kid gets HALF a taco. This is how we survive, no, thrive. We are a happy family. We don't need money. Or TIME. We dwell within the prickly embrace, the bayonet and hammock, of love. It takes a village. Last Tuesday I got off work and briefly visited the burlesque shows of the greater Mississippi delta and the Tunica casinos for my WELLNESS and then drove to Indiana and called to the kids and opened the usual box of OLD EL PASO ESTABLISHED 1938 SOFT AND HARD TACO DINNER KIT. And for what? Despair. FIVE hard tacos, not the PROMISED 6! FIVE! (I am enclosing visual evidence.) Please disclose yourself. Please tell Brody why she had no dinner at all. Hold her tiny hand as her stomach guffaws in agony. I request an explanation and at LEAST one hard taco shell. Fair is fair. Unfair is unfair. I had to explain MENDACITY to Brody, not fun. She's only three and cries at the flick of a Bic lighter or the creak of kudzu in the night breeze or even the persistent odor of gasoline (or at missing meals). Honestly, I feel like I've lost my family. And my farm. Once again. Sincerely, S Lovelace 13497 W River Valley Road Yorktown IN 47396 United States

"Complaint: Old El Paso", Sean Lovelace

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 8.27

Holidays

Anti-Rent Insurrection Anniversary Day (Delaware)

The Duchess Who Wasn't Day

Film and Movies Day (Russia)

First Kiss Day

Good Sex Day

Harvest’s End (Elder Scrolls)

Hydrogen Balloon Flight Anniversary Day

International Boobs Day (Italy)

International Boxing Day

International Gamecock Day

International Lottery Day

Just Because Day

Karam Puja (Assam, India)

Kiss Me Day

Krakatoa Day

Ladder Day (French Republic)

Lyndon Baines Johnson Day (Texas)

Motorist Consideration Day

National Radio Day (Argentina)

Nativity of Isis (Egyptian Goddess of Fertility)

Oil & Gas Industry Appreciation Day

Petroleum Day

Pharmacy Day (Iran)

Russian Cinema Day

Senior Race Day (Isle of Man)

Tarzan Day

Three-Thousandth Thnork of the Year (Fairy)

World Rock Paper Scissors Day

Food & Drink Celebrations

Crab Soup Day

National Banana Lovers Day

National Peach Day

National Pots de Creme Day

Salo Day (Ukraine)

Independence & Related Days

Declaration of the Rights of Man (Adopted by French Assembly; 1789)

Moldova (a.k.a. Ziua Republicii); from USSR, 1991)

Yungtaria (Declared; 2016) [unrecognized]

4th & Last Tuesday in August

Lammas Fair Day (Ballycastle, Ireland) [Last Tuesday]

Prophetic Prayer Day [4th Tuesday]

Taco Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Target Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Tater Tot Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Tell the Truth Tuesday [4th Tuesday of Each Month]

Teriyaki Tuesday [Last Tuesday of Each Month]

Thai Tuesday [4th Tuesday of Each Month]

Touch-A-Heart Tuesday [Tuesday of Be Kind to Humankind Week]

Transformation Tuesday [Last Tuesday of Each Month]

Trivia Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Two For Tuesday [Every Tuesday]

Festivals Beginning August 27, 2024

Farm Progress Show (Boone, Iowa) [thru 8.29]

Free Earth Festival (Asprovalta, Greece) [thru 9.2]

Van Wert County Fair (Van Wert, Ohio) [thru 9.2]

Feast Days

Alexandra Nechita (Artology)

Baculus of Sorrento (Christian; Saint)

Caesarius of Arles (Christian; Saint)

Calasanetius (Christian; Saint)

Day Sacred to Consus (God of Graineries; Ancient Rome)

Decuman (Christian; Saint)

Devaki Day (Indian Mother-Goddess; Everyday Wicca)

Euthalia (Christian; Saint)

Feast Day of Pan (Ancient Greece)

Feast of Incandescent Rebellion

Funella Furchester (Muppetism)

Gebhard of Constance (Christian; Saint)

Harris Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Hugh if Lincoln (Christian; Saint)

Inspiration Day (Starza Pagan Book of Days)

Jeanette Winterson (Writerism)

John of Pavia (Christian; Saint)

Joseph Calasanctius (Christian; Saint)

Juan Fernando Cobo (Artology)

Klebold Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Little St.Hugh of Lincoln (Christian; Saint)

Lycerius (a.k.a. Glycerius, Lizier; Christian; Saint)

Máel Ruba (a.k.a. Rufus, Malrubius) of Scotland (Christian; Saint)

Man Ray (Artology)

Marcellus and His Companions (Christian; Martyrs)

Margaret the Barefooted (Christian; Saint)

Monica of Hippo (mother of Augustine of Hippo; Christian; Saint) [Alcoholics]

Murray Matisse (Muppetism)

Narnus (Christian; Saint)

Phallogia (Pagan)

Phanourios of Rhodes (Christian; Saint)

Poëmen (a.k.a. Pastor; Christian; Saint)

Rufus and Carpophorus (Christian; Saints)

Stevin (Positivist; Saint)

Syagrius of Autun (Christian; Saint)

Theodore Dreiser (Writerism)

Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle (Episcopal Church)

The Threethousandth Thnork of the Year (Shamanism)

Tithi of Sri Sri Madhabdeva (Assam, India)

Udon Day (Pastafarian)

Usuki Stone Buddhas Fire Festival (Japan)

Volturnalia (Festival to the God of Waters & Fountains; Ancient Rome)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Prime Number Day: 239 [52 of 72]

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

The African Queen, by C.S. Forester (Novel; 1935)

A-Lad-In Bagdad (WB MM Cartoon; 1938)

Bill & Ted Face the Music (Film; 2020)

Camouflage (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1943)

A Cat, a Man, and Two Women, by Jun'ichirō Tanizaki (Novella; 1937)

Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Film; 1958)

The Centaur, by John Updike (Novel; 1963)

Cheaper by the Dozen, by Frank B. Gilbreth Jr. (Novel; 1948)

Cherish, by The Association (Song; 1966)

Circus (Ub Iwerks MGM Cartoon; 1932)

The Dippy Diplomat (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1945)

Dizzy Newsreel (Phantasies Cartoon; 1943)

Dudley Do-Right (Film; 1999)

Egyptian Melodies (Silly Symphony Disney Cartoon; 1931)

El Salón México, by Aaron Copland (Symphonic Composition; 1937)

Fright to the Finish (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1954)

Games People Play, by Eric Berne (Psychology Book; 1963)

A Ham in a Role (WB LT Cartoon; 1949)

Hamlet 2 (Film; 2008)

Hollywood Graduation (Color Rhapsody Cartoon; 1938)

Hyde and Hare (WB LT Cartoon; 1955)

I’m Gonna Send Your Vote to College (America Rock Cartoon; Schoolhouse Rock; 2002)

In the Heat if the Night, by Pat Benatar (Album; 1979)

Martin (TV Series; 1992)

Mary Poppins (Film; 1964)

Niagara Fools (Woody Woodpecker Cartoon; 1956)

No Code, by Pearl Jam (Album; 1996)

Old Blackout Joe (Phantasies Cartoon; 1942)

Pigmalion, by Jean-Philippe Rameau (Opera/Ballet; 1748)

Presidential Minute, a.k.a. The Campaign Trail (America Rock Cartoon; Schoolhouse Rock; 2002)

Prométhée, by Gabriel Fauré (Tragédie Lyrique (Grand Cantata); 1900)

Rabbit Redux, by John Updike (Novel: 1971) [Rabbit #2]

Roman Holiday (Film; 1953)

The Shepherds Crown, by Terry Pratchet (Novel; 2015) [Discworld #41]

The Simulacra, by Philip K. Dick (Novel; 1964)

South Pole Pals (Chilly Willy Cartoon; 1966)

Spinach vs. Hamburgers (Fleischer/Famous Popeye Cartoon; 1948)

Swing Time (Film; 1936)

Tarzan of the Apes (Novel; 1912)

Ten, by Pearl Jam (Album; 1991)

Toomorrow (Film; 1970)

Vacation Friends (Film; 2021)

Wet Blanket Policy (Andy Panda Cartoon; 1948)

Wholly Smoke (WB LT Cartoon; 1938)

Today’s Name Days

Gebhard, Margareta, Monika, Vivian (Austria)

Anđelka, Bogoljub, Monika (Croatia)

Otakar (Czech Republic)

Gebhardus (Denmark)

Maime, Maimi, Maimo, Maimu (Estonia)

Rauli (Finland)

Monique (France)

Gebhard, Monika, Vivian (Germany)

Arcadia, Arcadios, Fanourios, Liberios, Osios (Greece)

Gáspár (Hungary)

Cesario, Monica, Rocco (Italy)

Jorens, Ragnars, Valdmiers, Žanis (Latvia)

Aušrinė, Cezarijus, Cezaris, Tolvydas (Lithuania)

Roald, Rolf (Norway)

Angel, Angelus, Cezary, Gebhard, Józef, Kalasanty, Małgorzata, Przybymir, Rufus, Teodor (Poland)

Silvia (Slovakia)

Mónica (Spain)

Raoul, Rolf (Sweden)

Caesar, Cesar, King, Kingsley, Lyndon, Sheri, Sherri, Sherry, Sheryl (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 240 of 2024; 126 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 2 of Week 35 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Coll (Hazel) [Day 25 of 28]

Chinese: Month 7 (Ren-Shen), Day 24 (Guy-Hai)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 23 Av 5784

Islamic: 21 Safar 1446

J Cal: 30 Purple; Lastday [30 of 30]

Julian: 14 August 2024

Moon: 37%: Waning Crescent

Positivist: 14 Gutenberg (9th Month) [Vaucanson]

Runic Half Month: Rad (Motion) [Day 5 of 15]

Season: Summer (Day 69 of 94)

Week: 4th Full Week of August

Zodiac: Virgo (Day 6 of 32)

[alex51324]

Week 4 Farm Box!

Today we begin with a round of "What's That Vegetable?"

Here's our contestant:

I got it out of the swap box, in exchange for a lettuce the size a toddler. Here's the base of one of the bunches:

I haven't even started on last week's lettuce yet, and I still have some from Week 2. So I took this because it's A) Not Lettuce, and B) smaller.

Here's a sample leaf:

My best guess is Baby Bok Choy, but in the pictures I'm finding, the stems are wider and whiter than this. So I'm not sure if this is More Baby Than Usual Bok Choy, a different variety, or something else entirely.

On a related note, does anyone have recipes for baby bok choy/similar greens? I know it's good in stir fries, but they didn't give me anything else stir-fryable, and I hesitate to go out and buy more vegetables in order to use up the vegetables to whom I have already made a commitment.

Anyway, here's the rest of this week--we have a special guest star!

From top left, we have:

?? Possibly baby bok choy

Dandelion greens

A thankfully Smallish bunch of kale

Green garlic

Scallions

Asparagus

Thyme

Jerusalem Artichokes, and

--drumroll, please!

Strawberries!!!!

The strawberries are a surprise treat! The "what to expect" email from the weekend didn't include them, and then the "what you're getting" email from this morning said that they were out of dandelion greens and scallions, so we were getting strawberries instead.

I would 100% have taken that deal, but the more eagle-eyed reader may have noticed that I did get dandelion greens and scallions. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, my fruit subscription doesn't start for a few weeks yet, and I'd heard that strawberries were coming ripe early this year in my area, so I was worried I'd miss them.

For this week my plans include

A big dish of strawberries with sugar on them

Roasted jerusalem artichokes and asparagus, probably with whatever fish I've got in the freezer (will use some of the scallions, garlic, and thyme)

Salad using last week's radishes and lettuce, I guess

??? Something using the bok choy/whatever, and ideally the dandelion greens and kale too--suggestions welcome!

I guess I could buy just some carrots and peppers, and then use those in both the salad and a stir-fry? And then the stir-fry could have a couple of radishes in it, too, along with greens, garlic, and scallions, and maybe some shrimp or something. Then I'd just need a sauce of some kind.

[believemetheodore]

Blue Christmas

Ted Lasso x GN!Reader

I had an idea, and I cranked it out in like an hour, and now it's here! He’s with his son for Christmas, and that’s what matters most. But, while the reminder helps to settle self-disdain, it doesn’t keep the loneliness at bay. It doesn’t offer any protection from the things that go bump in the night or offer a hand to hold on the walk to work in the morning.  Warnings: mildly angsty feelings, happy ending, Henry (lmk if you want me to add anything)

The flat is dead silent without him. No shared laughter. No hooting or hollering. No real excitement. It feels selfish to want to complain about the lonely feeling that’s begun to settle in; creeping into every nook and cranny, making itself comfortable in the gaps in the floorboards, chilling the empty side of the bed. He’s back home in Kansas on a well-deserved break, visiting Henry for the holidays. 

How could anyone blame the man for wanting to spend time with his son? What’s a few weeks alone when it means that he’s happy? 

He calls every day, sometimes more than once; his voice-over speakerphone makes it possible to pretend that he’s in the room.  

He left some of his sweaters behind, and the scent of his cologne lingers. It’s tough but curled up in his clothes, it’s possible to masquerade normalcy, falling into a routine. Familiar comfort stays preserved within the apartment walls, but it’s just not home without movie nights or breakfast-for-dinner Fridays. 

He left notes scattered in the most peculiar places; in the pockets of coats, boxes of cereal, and the sock drawer. Each note it’s own kind of bittersweet; a reminder of his favourite way to spend Tuesday afternoons, a thoughtful piece of trivia, a poem he found, a terrible joke, a rambling expression of his love and gratitude. Each scrap of paper is a tug on the heartstrings, bringing on a bright smile and highlighting the void left since his departure. 

Life’s metaphorical glass feels half-full without him. Each morning is more melancholy than the last. Each night is just a tally, crossing off another day on the calendar before he returns. 

His eyes crinkle when he smiles over FaceTime. Beaming, he recounts the day he spent with Henry at a tree farm, hunting down the perfect Christmas tree to put up at mama Lasso’s house. He talks about trying to make a popcorn garland, ultimately unsuccessfully, as he and Henry did more snacking on than stringing the kernels.

It’s easy to get caught up in his joy. His enthusiasm is as infectious as ever, and when Henry joins the call, it’s clear he’s inherited his father’s natural charisma. But secondhand excitement trades places with a dreaded feeling of neediness and unwanted jealousy. A desire to be with him, to go where he goes. Together.

It’s love, but it stings in a way that only feels like guilt. He’s with his son for Christmas, and that’s what matters most. But, while the reminder helps to settle self-disdain, it doesn’t keep the loneliness at bay. It doesn’t offer any protection from the things that go bump in the night or offer a hand to hold on the walk to work in the morning. 

The holiday comes with parties, too much champagne, and opening gifts, wondering if a laptop screen can accurately display such strong and deep feelings of love in a person’s eyes. Yearning.

Henry’s gifts postmarked from London arrive shortly after the presents from his parents and Santa. He’s the sweetest boy, with the biggest heart, and it’s impossible to remain unmoved by his genuine curiosity, wonder, and his shout “thank you, thank you, thank you!” through the speaker. There’s no hesitation when it comes to agreeing that Henry should spend a few weeks in London over the summer. 

The conversation slows, with Henry running off to enjoy his new gifts and gadgets. Ted has lots to share and a lot of time to listen. It’s peaceful, But, hot chocolate doesn’t taste as sweet when there are no kisses to follow. His voice is like honey, warm and soothing when the room feels so cold. For a moment, it’s hard to believe he’s an ocean away. He’s calmer than usual, subdued and subtle. Can the crackle of a slow internet connection explain how he sounds like he’s yearning, too? 

There are no more notes to be found by the time midnight of the New Year rolls in. Marked by the sound of firecrackers and the banging of pots and pans in the street. 

Ted’s flight landed at 11:45, but it’ll be well passed 2 am by the time he makes it home. But even the desire to be awake when Ted finally walks back through the door is no match for deep-seated exhaustion. 

His hand is warm, shaking the shoulder of the one he loves. “Good morning. Happy New Year,” he’s quiet when he speaks. 

Blinking brings him into focus. “I missed you,” the confession slips out with embarrassing ease. “I missed you too”. 

Simple. Easy. Honest. “I have something to show you,” He speaks again, head tilting to gesture towards the door. He stands from his crouched position next to the bed, offering up his hand to hold.

Old floorboard creak and the walk down to the living room is punctuated by two sets of footsteps for the first time in more than a month. The room is bathed in a pale yellow glow of candlelight. The miniature Christmas tree in the corner of the room is strung with tiny string lights, blinking from red to green. A deep breath in smells like sugar and spice, and leads dazzled eyes to the plate of fresh cinnamon rolls on the coffee table. 

It feels like all of the holidays rolled into one, a display of all the devotion he hadn’t been able to paraphrase in his notes or convey through longing looks. Perfect. 

 Hair mused from travel; he’s still nothing but a heartstopper. His voice, his touch, his thoughts, his jokes, he’s just so much better in person. Every bit of him was so well missed. Laughter sounds magical when it’s shared. And kisses taste like icing sugar and cocoa. It’s all like pieces fitting back into place. Tenderness seeps back in, love filling the rooms of the flat once more. This is what home feels like. 

[3llisarts]

Wip Tuesday (bc I honestly couldn’t wait)

The ghost cat. The mountain lion. Just two of the many names used to describe the same creature. The Widow. The boogeyman. Just two of the many names used to describe the same killer. Rhys Thompson.

The mountain lion crept through the woods with her head low and her ears perked. Her muzzle was coated with blood, illuminated by the moon’s glow. She stopped and raised her head, listening for any sign that she wasn’t alone. Fortunately for her, she was. Then again it wasn’t surprising, shifters were not entirely known to the world. And that was Rhys Thompson’s very cover, even if she hated shifting in the first place. Nothing against the cat, but she preferred to work in human form.

Though being a shifter came with its perks. The human authorities dismissed her kills as a regular mountain lion attack, and she’d been banking heavily on that continuing. As far as she knew, the Rochester Police Department officers were all human.

Rhys peered over her shoulder in the direction she’d came. She’d killed her recent target, a man with former military ties, having jumped him as soon as he stepped outside for a quick smoke break. Though Rhys took off before his wife had a chance to come outside and investigate the scene. Rhys yawned softly and licked her lips, now looking ahead. She knew it was only a matter of time before Dylan realized she was gone, so she bounded down the hill and disappeared into the dark.

When Rhys finally got to Dylan’s estate, she cleared the walls with ease. Even if she took a moment to lounge at the top and enjoy the view, her tail swishing back and forth. The mountain lion jumped down, trotted through the garden and then nudged open the back door. Rhys paused in the foyer before she padded up the stairs and down the long hallway. The mountain lion’s shadow cast along the wall, by the faint bit of moonlight coming in through the windows. She froze when she heard Dylan stir, though she quickly continued when she realized he was fast asleep. Rhys fidgeted with the door handle before she finally got her bedroom door open. She sprang up onto the bed and flopped down with a content sigh. After a long night of work, she’d rest first, and deal with any consequences later.

A little shifters AU of Rhys and Dylan here-

————————-

Hope County, Montana

2018

The move to Hope County had been long, and tiring. Then again, ex-FBI agent Orion Barys had been looking forward to it. He’d seen too much in the city, in his career, even to bother with staying. Lux Barys, his teenage son, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic, though he still enjoyed it.

Just as Orion opened the last moving box, his ex K9, Bear, sauntered into the kitchen. The big Rottweiler had ridden in the back seat during the move, though he had just enough room to where he could lay down and stretch out. Orion smiled faintly, reaching down and scratching Bear under his chin, “yeah yeah, ah see ya, bud,” he murmured. Bear responded with a huff before he went to explore the rest of the house, the sound of his nails on the kitchen tile gradually fading into background noise.

Orion, Lux and Bear had found the farm house abandoned, despite the large ‘For Sale’ sign posted out in the front yard. It was as if the previous owners had been in the middle of listing their house, when they’d up and left everything behind. Furniture, decorations, everything. Orion had even swept the whole house top to bottom with Bear, the two of them catching a fleeting feeling of being back on the job. And still, Orion didn’t find anything that’d indicated any sign of a struggle. No blood splatters, no bullet holes, nothing out of order.

The people of Falls End, the nearby town, had even welcomed them with open arms. Though still, Orion had a hunch something was off. There was just a hint of tension, hanging in the air like a fat cloud before a thunderstorm. Orion attempted to chalk it up to a result of his former career, though he knew something was off. The strange white pickup trucks cruising down the dirt roads only attested to his little theory.

“Dad!” Lux shouted, his voice coming from somewhere outside. Orion perked up, stopped what he was doing and all but booked it outside with Bear hard on his heels. The two got outside, seeing Lux standing in front of a mostly rundown barn. The younger man had lifted off an old piece of plywood that held the two double doors closed.

“What? What is it? Are ya okay?” Orion asked quickly, his whiskey brown eyes scanning over Lux, searching his son’s form for any sign of injury. “I’m fine,” Lux said quickly, and his lips broke out into a grin. He gestured inside the barn, and Orion followed, only to see a red, mint condition ‘71 Dodge Challenger. Orion shared a look with Lux, and his grin mirrored his son’s, “well would ya look at that.”

And of course, some Orion x John

———

Was tagged by @cassietrn and @noodlecupcakes and in turn I tag @josephseedismyfather @reyl0ct @fingersinmyhair @disney-dream @la-grosse-patate

[nadiaparkappreciationweek]

WIP: "The Disappeared" by @dcbbw

--

A submission by @dcbbw! WIP of a story that explores Nadia's thoughts, emotions and heartbreak, set during Steve's disappearance after the "breakup" at Ceder Rest (PM1 Ch6). Can't wait to see the full piece! 💖💖💖

Tagging @sazanes and @lizzybeth1986 for NPAD 2023!

--

An unshowered, scowling Nadia Park greeted the Door Dasher wearing an oversized pink tee shirt that read: “Bitch, I AM the secret ingredient”, a pair of baggy sweatpants, and a huge purple chenille robe. A Captain America cape was tied around her waist and competed with the robe when it came to dragging the floor. She snatched the bags from his hands, pressed a $20 bill into his palm, and slammed the door.

The delivery guy stared stupidly at the closed door before muttering, “Yeah, fuck you too!” as he turned on his heel, headed for the elevator.

Nadia swung her front door open, bags of food still hooked onto her curled fingers. “DON’T MAKE ME RAGE PANDA YOUR ASS!” she threatened in a half-snarl, half-yell.

Before entering the waiting elevator car, the gangly guy half turned so she could see him flip her the bird. Nadia bit her lip, exhaled angrily, and slammed her door shut again.

Freakin’ people!

She set the bags of greasy goodness onto her coffee table, careful to move her newly opened bottle of Boones Farm strawberry wine out of harm’s way before flopping onto the sofa, her dark hair splayed against pastel-colored cushions. Her eyes stared around the normally bright and cheerful domicile; now all the lights and lamps were off, and the venetian blinds were closed, curtains pulled tightly against them despite it being 2pm on a Tuesday.

The condo was in complete disarray: Two weeks’ worth of everything was everywhere. Dirty laundry sat in piles in the living room, the kitchen, the hallway leading to the bedroom. The kitchen sink was piled high with dirty dishes; she would put them in the dishwasher, but that was full as well. Carryout boxes, empty wine bottles, and crumpled bags that once held potato chips threatened to spill out of the kitchen trash can.

A few of her earlier paintings, which had decorated the dining room accent wall two weeks ago, sat haphazardly on the floor; a large corkboard she had titled The Steve Tennyson Timeline hung there now, filled with photos, charts, and the letter.

For all of her charisma, competence, and creative talents, Nadia Park was, without fail, a hot mess in three instances: when she was drunk, in love, or grieving. And right now, she was all three.

Because of Steve.

The one who swore he would never hurt her. Hell, he was the first and only man who had actually read The Care and Keeping of Nadia Park, making annotations and highlighting what he considered to be the important parts.

--

[rockislandadultreads]

New Title Tuesday: Horror Picks

The Militia House by John Milas

It’s 2010, and the recently promoted Corporal Loyette and his unit are finishing up their deployment at a new base in Kajaki, Afghanistan. Their duties here are straightforward―loading and unloading cargo into and out of helicopters―and their days are a mix of boredom and dread. The Brits they’re replacing delight in telling them the history of the old barracks just off base, a Soviet-era militia house they claim is haunted, and Loyette and his men don’t need much convincing to make a clandestine trip outside the wire to explore it.

It’s a short, middle-of-the-day adventure, but the men experience a mounting agitation after their visit to the militia house. In the days that follow they try to forget about the strange, unsettling sights and sounds from the house, but things are increasingly . . . not right. Loyette becomes determined to ignore his and his marines’ growing unease, convinced that it’s just the strain of war playing tricks on them. But something about the militia house will not let them go.

Jackal, Jackal by Tobi Ogundiran

From Shirley Jackson award-nominated author Tobi Ogundiran, comes a highly anticipated debut collection of stories full of magic and wonder and breathtaking imagination.

In "The Lady of the Yellow-Painted Library" - featured in Levar Burton Reads - a hapless salesman flees the otherworldly librarian hell-bent on retrieving her lost library book.

"The Tale of Jaja and Canti" sees Ogundiran riffing off of Pinocchio. But this wooden boy doesn't seek to become real. Wanting to be loved, he journeys the world in search of his mother - an ancient and powerful entity who is best not sought out.

"The Goatkeeper's Harvest" contains echoes of Lovecraft, where a young mother living on a farm finds that goats have broken into her barn and are devouring all her tubers. As she chases them off with a rake, a woman appears claiming the goats are her children, and that the young woman has killed one of them and must pay the price: a goat for a goat.

These and other tales of the dark and fantastic await.

Burn the Negative by Josh Winning

Arriving in L.A. to visit the set of a new streaming horror series, journalist Laura Warren witnesses a man jumping from a bridge, landing right behind her car. Here we go, she thinks. It’s started. Because the series she’s reporting on is a remake of a ’90s horror flick. A cursed ’90s horror flick, which she starred in as a child—and has been running from her whole life.

In The Guesthouse, Laura played the little girl with the terrifying gift to tell people how the Needle Man would kill them. When eight of the cast and crew died in ways that eerily mirrored the movie’s on-screen deaths, the film became a cult classic—and ruined her life. Leaving it behind, Laura changed her name and her accent, dyed her hair, and moved across the Atlantic. But some scripts don’t want to stay buried.

Now, as the body count rises again, Laura finds herself on the run with her aspiring actress sister and a jaded psychic, hoping to end the curse once and for all—and to stay out of the Needle Man’s lethal reach.

The Beast You Are by Paul Tremblay

Paul Tremblay has won widespread acclaim for illuminating the dark horrors of the mind in novels and stories that push the boundaries of storytelling itself. The fifteen pieces in this brilliant collection, The Beast You Are, are all monsters of a kind, ready to loudly (and lovingly) smash through your head and into your heart.

In “The Dead Thing,” a middle-schooler struggles to deal with the aftermath of her parents’ substance addictions and split. One day, her little brother claims he found a shoebox with “the dead thing” inside. He won’t show it to her and he won’t let the box out of his sight.

In “The Last Conversation,” a person wakes in a sterile, white room and begins to receive instructions via intercom from a woman named Anne. When they are finally allowed to leave the room to complete a task, what they find is as shocking as it is heartbreaking.

The title novella, “The Beast You Are,” is a mini epic in which the destinies and secrets of a village, a dog, and a cat are intertwined with a giant monster that returns to wreak havoc every thirty years.

[melophobia2013]

[mysticstarlightduck]

Its Blursday! You hand the OC of your choice $1 million dollars (or the equivalent in your/their world!), what do they spend it on?

Happy Blorbo Blursday! Thank you for the Ask @writernopal!

You hand the OC of your choice $1 million dollars (or the equivalent in your/their world!), what do they spend it on?

Raelen - She'd likely spend at least some of her newfound money on chocolate snacks, but only some of it. Afterward, she'd probably save most of it, and use her money to fund the reconstruction of the Ancient Archives for the Mageborn scrolls.

Azra - He'd pamper his dragon with a saddle made of diamonds and pearls because Mystral (his dragon) likes to look majestic. Then, Azra would probably use the rest of the money to help Kestrall rebuild in the aftermath of the Siege and the wars.

Julyan - That boy would hoard that money with his life, "my precious" (from LOTR) style. Not because he is selfish, but because he is very self-conscious and anxious about money, and probably hasn't seen that amount of money in his wildest dreams. He'd continue living his life as he always had because he'd be scared to spend the money.

Vallerius - Continent-wide trip across Agrannor, here he comes, baby! He'd spend a year traveling across the continent in the finest places it could offer. He'd end up penniless shortly after his trip is done - that boy was born noble and never really learned how to handle money (much less the concept of savings) - but he'd say it was worth it.

Luciya - The most chaotic shopping spree in the world. I'm talking full-on deranged impulse buying. She'd come home with a cart of the weirdest candy known to man, the tackiest clothes in existence, and the most useless dagger set ever - no money, no purse, and no sanity in sight. Of course, she'd also rescue some animals from crooked merchants, but not normal ones, I'm talking about a giant winged serpent from the Scarp and a suspiciously looking Hook-Eye mountain cat from Ergyre, and be like "Hey, Fabian! Meet our new pets! Aren't they the cutest? They bite". Fabian promptly transcends onto the great beyond once he realizes how she spent their money so quickly.

Innara - Buys some of the most dangerous alchemical elixirs and potions in the world, chooses the sharpest gold-plated dagger (just out of spite), and beelines it back to her home kingdom. Once she is there, she bribes the nobility who betrayed her to be by her side, like "Hey, Great-Uncle! I'm back, thought I was dead huh? Maybe stop poisoning my dad by any chance? No? Okay then", and kills the bastard (her corrupt Great Uncle) by blowing him up to smithereens with the potions she brought. Then she gives the rest of the money to the kingdom and enjoys the chance of spending a month as a pampered princess in her own court before she gets bored and goes to find some adventure.

Lukan - Promptly loses it all on a betting game at a shady tavern, gets blackout drunk, passes out, and wakes up at home with zero recollection of how he got there or how he lost the money in the first place. Mourns the loss of his 1M bounty for two seconds before moving on with his life like its just another Tuesday.

Tanwin - Buys books, lots of books, endless books, and locks himself up in his room for a month to read them all, then emerges from the experience with still almost 500.000 gold to spare.

How Tanwin's interaction at the library would likely go: Book Store Clerk: Okay, how many books do you want? Tanwin (dead serious): Yes. Book Store Clerk: But how many? Tanwin (pulls a dagger): Just Yes. Book Store Clerk (filling up boxes and boxes of books immediately): Okay then! (Silently to themselves:) Why did I get this job, should've stayed on the farm, but nooo... Now I got to deal with this fucking guy.

Bryn: STRAWBERRY SMOOTHIES. Strawberry cupcakes, strawberry pies, everything strawberry that 1M can buy. Also, he'd take Cirien on a tour of a florist shop because Cirien likes to see the exotic flowers and carnivorous plants.

Sybil: Would get Morwan to join her in the most unhinged drinking game and tavern crawl in history. Two hours in, they'd be at least halfway through 1M, without even realizing it, because Sybil likes gambling and so does Morwan.

Emryc: Would get a puppy. He wouldn't even buy the puppy, he'd just pick up a random stray dog from the street and use the fact that he is now a millionaire as a bargaining chip to get his friends to let him keep a random - likely magical or cursed - dog in the fortress. And it's not even a cute regular dog either, it's the most mutated, weird, cursed dog-like thing ever. No one is sure it's even really a dog, or a cat, or anything for that matter. Lilo & Stitch style.

(Emryc) "I have 1M gold, I can do whatever I want." (Ansell) "That... dog, has three heads. And I think another head is spawning, oh my gods -" (Emryc) "I know! Isn't he the goodest boy?" (Ansell) "He bit me!" (Emryc) "As he should." (Ansell, walking away) "That's it. Hey, Ellinor, get Yuna, we're moving back to your Dad's place, come on."

Nethen: Would be the most obnoxiously meticulous person ever. He'd awaken his inner accountant, and be proud of it. He'd know exactly how much each coin weighs and costs and how much it is worth in each province of the kingdom. And end up not spending a dime.

Nadinne: Would spend her 1M creating an exact, working replica ship of The Fearless (her aunt's ship which was sunk by pirate Captain Vulfric when Nadinne was a kid), and get a talented crew, so that she can finally sail the seas on her own terms like she always dreamed of.