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"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

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Shrek 2 (2004) dir. Andrew Adamson, Conrad Vernon and Kelly Asbury

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15 year old monk whispering "do i lust for men?" and then flipping to a random page in the bible to see what it says = medieval equivalent of modern "am i gay quiz"

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one man, one lord, one faith, one baptism, two nunchucks

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My edo period samurai roommate keeps telling me how i’ll bring shame and dishonor to our apartment if I keep forgetting to wash the dishes. Like whatever dude, I’m not the one carrying on a passionate yet illicit affair with the daimyo’s daughter whose hand has already been promised to another.

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This is what I imagine happens every time they argue-

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July - Jamie Landing

Deep into the evening, Shelly's mother came knocking at her bedroom door. She didn't have the time to wipe the sleep from her eyes before her mother's anxious hiss split the darkness.

"Shelly," her mother had hissed from the doorway, "come look. Quick."

"Mom? What's going on?" The flood of adrenaline coursed through her muscles, a primitive alarm clock that roused her uncomfortably from her bed.

"There's something wrong. Come look outside."

So Shelly did. She followed her mother, a broad, strong-chinned woman in striped pajamas, to her sister's old bedroom turned storage space.

"Look, do you see him?"

"See who?" Shelly responded, peering through the second-story window.

"Look!" Her mother hissed again, padding the glass ferociously with her finger at the small, shadowy figure on the street. "Right there. Down the street. Just outside of the street light."

As the sleep cleared from her eyes, Shelly could see what her mother was talking about. It was unmistakable. Jamie Landing, the next-door neighbor stood... no, leaning in the dark street. "What the hell..."

Jamie Landing was one of many new neighbors that Shelly and her mother had come to know. In a tilt-a-whirl of revolving faces, Jamie and his family stood out. The Landings were a recent move to the town of Palmyra. Shelly could remember the kid from a conversation they had about model cars. He was in the sixth grade, and despite their brief interactions from between the fence, Shelly could easily recognize his slight frame. His posture was alien. Once, a slim boy full of energy now drooped like a garden scarecrow saturated with weather. His head was forced low against his collarbones, his thin arms swayed in front of him, jolting every few moments to check his balance.

"It's 11 at night, what the hell is he doing out there?" Shelly whispered back to her mother. Her mother squinted, watching the child closely as he swayed stiffly in the darkness.

"That's the Landing's boy right?" Her mother murmured, looking to Shelly for confirmation.

"It sure looks like him. How long has he been like that?"

Her mother made a noise of ambiguity. "I have been watching him for about fifteen minutes."

"He's been like that for fifteen minutes? Jesus, mom..."

"I knew that Paul Landings was an ass. Leaving his kid to wander down the damn street this late at night."

"Mom, you don't know that. Jamie might have just broken out or something."

Or into something. Shellys hometown had its own sweep of drug related problems. Just last week on the news there had been a huge drug bust at the Diner. Shelly bit her lip, hard, and pushed away the possibility of the worst.

"Twelve-year-olds don't break out of the house, Shelly. And they certainly don't break out in their pajamas." Shelly's mother tapped again on the glass at Jamie's dimly lit figure.

Shelly's stomach dropped as the details became clear. The child's long-john bottoms clung wet to his small frame, soaked and heavy against his body. His small feet appeared bare, but despite the hot July night, Jamie didn't move, only a gentle sway. Shelly knew these nights, full of gnats and mosquitos and mites that ravaged any uncovered skin. But he stood eerily still just beyond the street lamp's light. His head hanging low.

Shelly swallowed. "Do you think it's weird he's so still?"

Her mother thought for a long moment as the two watched from the window. The silence between them was dreadful, and Shelly desperately needed her mother to break it with something comforting.

Eventually, the anticipation was broken with movement. "I'm going to get my jacket."

"Mom don't go out there, it's late. Just call the cops or something."

"Shelly, I'm not going to call the cops on a sixth-grade boy."

"He's not our problem, let's just let the Landings deal with him or something." But it was a weak protest, as Shelly's mother began to move from the window.

"Stay here." Her mother responded curtly. Shelly knew that tone. She had known it for years. A tone of finality, a decision beyond discussion. A tone that reached into Shelly's DNA and commanded her into silence from the matriarch. Shelly hated that tone.

The familiar wooden creak echoed through the hall as her mother padded down the stairs. Shelly waited and watched, listening to the movement in the living room below. A pause to slide on a pair of sandals and a jacket. The jingle of keys. The front door creaked open and slammed shut, and the heavy footsteps of Shelly's mother marked her departure into the humid street below.

Shelly slid open the old window as she listened to her mother. The loud cry of Indiana cicadas greeted her, a reminder of the heavy summer heat that refused to die despite the night.

"Jamie!" Her mother called to him, still and unmoving in the glow. Shelly's breath caught as the soft, round form of her mother began to cross the street. "Jamie, are you alright?"

The stone of anxiety settled deep into Shelly's gut. She watched, wide-eyed, as her mother shuffled down the asphalt towards Jamie, her keys jingling loosely from the tips of her fingers. "It's really late Jamie, what are you doing outside?"

As if on cue, Shelly could see the small form of Jamie turn towards her mother. Despite the darkness, it was clear that Jamie was responsive, albeit stunted in his movement. It was as if his tendons had turned to wires, animatronic and unnatural. Shelly's mother froze beneath the street light, watching Jamie turn to face her. Her question was a breath, but Shelly could read her lips.

"... Jamie?"

Shelly watched as her mother's body shifted from maternal concern to fear. Her mother's brown eyes, wide with doe-like instinct, met Shelly's in the window.

Get the door.

It was as if Shelly's body froze with time as she broke from the bedroom window. Her toes clipped on the spare boxes and detritus of her sister's old life as she tracked her path through the bedroom. It didn't feel fast enough as she caught her balance, nearly falling as she slid down the stairs in her socks. Through the living room, towards the heavy door that separated her from her terrified mother. Her body slammed hard against the window of the foyer, as she twisted the lock of the door.

A gust of hot wind greeted her, the burn of the midwestern July night lapping up the air conditioning that spilled out into the muggy air. Shelly didn't have to search for her mother long, and she could barely register the movement as her mother sprinted through the front yard and up the porch stairs.

"Shut the door, shut the damn door!" Her mother cried, pushing Shelly back into the home and slamming the door behind her. It click of the lock should have meant safety, but the heavy slam of Jamie's body connected with the wood. The loudthump caused Shelly to freeze, while a heavier, louder thump followed. And another. And another. And another. And another.

Shelly stared down at her mother, who gasped for breath amidst the rhythmic, heavy thumps against the front door. The question was louder than the July cicadas, or the pounding of the door. Shelly knew she shouldn't, but the pounding was so loud, and her mother was so frightened. Slowly, she approached the door and rose on her toes to peer through the three, small windows at the top of the door.

The open maw of Jamie Landing greeted her with a horrible gurgle. Like a blind cat, his sclera glowed dull white, the rims of his eyes dark. Drool pooled from his mouth across his pajamas, and his hair matted to his forehead. Shelly felt sick as Jamie moaned, throwing his tiny body against the front door again. Again. Again. Again.

Shelly turned back to face her mother who was now off the floor and peering through the front window, the curtains pulled back so she could see into the front yard.

"Shelly..." Her mother whispered, "get the gun."

Numbly Shelly returned to peer through the door window, as two pairs of adults stumbled, sick and bleeding, into the light of the street lamp.

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Deadlifted 405. 3 reps 8 sets.

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I hope everyone understands, when I say “most endangered habitat on earth”, I mean temperate grasslands.

They’re more endangered than tropical rainforests, coral reefs, the arctic tundra, all of those go-to environments that get more of the spotlight.

Where I live, maybe 25% of the prairie remains in a natural state and that number is dropping. Even these fragments are mostly missing the keystone species that maintain their health, like bison, wolves, and prairie dogs. I know this is the case for other grasslands like the pampas and steppe as well. Vast lands empty of many species that used to call them home.

If you live on temperate grasslands, hold onto them tight, because they’ve been exploited like no other land and most people don’t even know how far the devastation goes.

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When people graffiti on buildings: Yes! Ha ha! Fuck yes!

When people graffiti on rockfaces and cliffsides on hiking trails: What the absolute fuck.

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*seeing a 6 year old in the wild* and skibidi greetings to you my young mr beast

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rice and beans and cheese and avocados and tortillas and cinnamon and vanilla and cocoa and coffee and bananas and corn and

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For some reason we were given access to custom emojis on teams and it took people less than 24 hours to add the logo of the local unemployment office and start using it as a reaction when something goes wrong or upper management announces another shit decision

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I’d best be seeing that anti JKR energy for this twilight show too bc Smeyer continuing to profit off the Quileute tribe is not cute