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keeksandgigz · 27 days

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Chapter 1: Les Usurpateurs

Part 1 of Words are Futile Devices- A Steddie x Reader Call Me By Your Name AU

Somewhere in Northern Italy, 1983

cw: ~3k words, no smut (yet), EVERYONE IS OF AGE!!!, a lot of unnecessary description for the vibes, reader is a bit of a cunt

notes: I'm back (I think)

Despite the lack of smut in this chapter, this and all my works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

There was something of a quiet intimacy in hearing the summer sparrows in the morning. Nothing but the gentle hum and chirp buried in the ripe peach trees. Thus marking the beginning of your yearly summer stay in Italy, of doing nothing but lounge around and savor the crickets at night, lying down on the couch of the villa your mother had inherited from her great grandparents.

What you liked about your summers in Italy was that time seemed to go slower, at your leisure, spending it between the lake with your friends, the town just a short bike ride away or staying home buried in the pile of books you had brought over just to keep in your room, a bit overgrown, but unable to make it “too yours” because of the guests you’d have to concede your room to a mere four weeks after your arrival at the villa.

Every summer, your father would host literature and art history students at the villa, aspiring professors, authors, archeologists, to help with their dissertations. They’d come with their american ways, obnoxiously disturbing the peace that you had created for yourself in the idyllic world you’d surrounded yourself into. Like that was a different astral plane you’d projected into, with the same friends as always, the same views, the same places to go. A different guest you’d have to surrender your room to for ten weeks, while you were banished to the communicating room, divided only by a shared bathroom. A small twin bed, an old desk and chair, a big enough window to let a good amount of light in, so you don’t suffocate and turn into a vampire. You despised that room.

They always arrived on the first day of July, when the weather seemed to turn from needing a light pair of jeans in the evening to clothes being unbearable. If you were in your room you’d limit yourself to a long enough shirt to keep you decent for the ghosts in the villa. There were no ghosts, but Giovanna, the housekeeper, would pop in from time to time to drop off your clothes– washed, ironed and folded. They smelled like citrus.

You were reading The Count of Monte Cristo when the guest arrived. The rippling sounds of the gravel under the heavy tires of the car sounding like an alarm. You placed your book face down on the page you had been reading and ran to the window. Curious to see what the tide had brought this year. Maybe someone whose English wasn’t very good. Or some lunatic who could only stay inside because of his pollen allergy. You wondered what they would have looked like. Tall? Ugly? Obnoxious in the sense where you could hear them play shuffle and slam and bang doors and cabinets and drawers in the morning when getting ready?

The car came to a stop in front of the door, right under the window of your room. The driver’s door opened, Giuseppe, the groundskeeper of the villa went around to open the trunk. Your heart thumped as you saw the passenger door open. It was a man. He was wearing a pair of white linen shorts, a blue flouncy short sleeve button- up shirt and gold- rimmed glasses. He pushed them up as he placed two hands on his hips, quickly removing one in favor of running his hands through his hair, styled and coiffed like he had not just come off an eight- hour flight.

“You must be…” You’d heard your father say, placing a finger on his bearded chin, the name of the boy must have slipped him.

“Steve. Piacere” the boy said, in an Americanized Italian, sounding like he had a hot potato in his mouth.

“Ah! Steve, Benvenuto” your father said, bidding his welcome and shaking the boy’s hand. Your mother extended a delicate hand as well, introducing herself with a bright smile. At the same time, the opposite passenger door opened. Another boy.

This one had long, frizzy hair. His face was framed by the bangs that stuck on his forehead. He was wearing a black t- shirt of a band you’d never heard of before tucked inside a pair of cutoff denim shorts held up by a belt, a chain clinking at the boy’s side as he stepped off the car. He wouldn’t let Giuseppe take his bags, insisting he could have done it himself.

Your father followed the boy with his eyes as he carried what appeared to be a duffel bag and a beat up suitcase towards your father.

“And this must be Eddie, then” your father said, as Eddie released his suitcase to shake your father’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you” the boy said, and from this new angle you could see that he sported three chunky rings on his left hand and a chain necklace around his neck. Your father saw you peeking out the window and motioned for you to come down.

“Shall we go inside? Show you around before dinner?” He motioned towards the boys as Eddie picked his stuff up once again and followed inside. You rolled your eyes. That was your cue to put on some pants and come downstairs.

Your father’s office was just on the right at the bottom of the stairs, as you hopped down the marble steps. You heard chatter.

“Oh there she is” you heard your father announce as you leaned against the doorframe of his office. You tended to dislike his theatrics “Boys, this is my daughter” the two guests turned around, reaching their hands to squeeze yours, as you firmly told them your name.

“Hey, I’m Steve,” he said, fixing his glasses with his other hand. He was soft, but his handshake was firm. Hands bigger than yours.

“You’re the archeology and history nerd” you quipped, a slight curl of your mouth followed it.

Steve didn’t seem to like the name, as he let go of your hand, mouth in a straight line. Embarrassed. Put off. You needed them to know that they weren’t welcome here.

“Hey, what’s up I’m Eddie” the other guy said. His hand was much more rougher and calloused than Steve’s, likely a guitarist.

“You’re the soon to be failed author?” you tilted your head at him,

you tilted your head at him, you heard your mother gasp, the indignation dripping from her mouth as she said your name. Eddie chuckled, a bit taken aback, but amused.

“How do you like daddy’s money, hm?” It was your turn to be indignant. You heard your father snicker behind the boy, followed by Steve. Your hand brusquely retracted from Eddie’s, as your mother poured springs of apologies on your behalf.

“She’s not like this, usually,” your mother said. Which was a lie. You were always like this. Rude, witty, sour.

You heard the disappointment in your dad’s tone “Go show them their room” he said, an intimation for you to leave.

“Make yourselves at home,” he said, before you guided them back upstairs.

Eddie huffed up the stairs. You didn’t offer to take his bags, as he seemed to not need nor want any help.

You opened the large pinewood door.

“You guys are gonna sleep in here. This is my room, but it’s gonna be yours for the rest of your stay. I’m gonna be in the next room over. Unfortunately we’ll have to share a bathroom” You could see sleep calling to them, as their eyes opened and closed slowly at the sight of a made bed.

Eddie dropped his bags and thumped on the bed, sleep immediately overtaking him.

“You have to excuse him, this is the first time he’s traveled outside of the States,” Steve said, sitting on the bed, leaning to take his shoes off.

“Nervous or what?” you asked, examining your bookcase in case you wanted to steal a book to take to your room.

“Just not as lucky as many” Steve shrugged, laying himself down on the mattress “this is his big shot. If your dad likes his stuff it’s all uphill from here” Steve groans, voice full of sleep “thanks for lending us your room, let us know when dinner is.”

And that was that. The boy fell into the arms of slumber.

And when Giovanna rang the bell to announce dinnertime, once again you peeled yourself away from The Count of Monte Cristo. You wondered if they were still sleeping.

You wandered into the bathroom and towards the door as you shot a quick look at the two sleeping bodies on the bed. Eddie was snoring. You were unsure if you should have woken them up.

You toyed with the bathroom door, swinging it between your hands. A grin decorated your face as you decided to slam it. Steve jumped awake, annoyed and scared.

“Dinner’s ready” you muttered, reaching for the handle of the door.

“I’ll pass, thanks” Steve said, shaking Eddie from his almost comatose state. The boy mumbled a semi- discernible “huh?”

“Dinner, Ed. ‘m not going, but you can feel free to” Steve said to the other, but he just turned around and sleepily muttered an “‘mgood, thanks.”

“He’s good. We’ll apologize to your mother in the morning” Steve said, laying back down, ignoring you completely.

Where’s my apology?

You were thankful for the lack of guests at dinner. That way you were able to silently eat and then slither back into your room. Back into your book. Lulled by the crickets, and the whisper of the trees in the weak evening breeze. You ended up falling asleep.

In the morning, Steve was already outside having breakfast with your parents. He looked like he had showered, but you didn’t recall the faint sound of the water running. He was wearing another pair of shorts, another flouncy shirt. Fumbling with a slice of toast, buttered with jam as he talked to your father about the morning paper.

“This is gorgeous by the way” Steve admitted, looking around “your orchard?” he looked at your mother, who was smiling proudly at the compliment.

“We grow a lot of fruit here, Giovanna makes apricot juice fresh every day” she smiled, biting into a slice of bread.

“You had a lot to say yesterday, now you’re a quiet little mouse?” your father teased, elbowing you lightly as you rolled your eyes.

“It’s okay, she apologized” Steve said, an assuring look in his eyes “she didn’t mean that stuff. She told me, it’s just her welcome wagon” he chuckled, and you felt yourself grow red. Why would he save you like that?

Eddie popped out from the door, hair in a bun, changed out of his shirt in favor for a new one.

“You should show them around some time, dear. Take them into town, maybe at the lake, I hope your father is not gonna keep them cooped up in his office for ten weeks” your mother giggled.

“Yeah, no we’d love that. Maybe I’ll get some inspiration for the book” Eddie sat down at the breakfast table, between you and Steve as he fumbled with a soft boiled egg Giovanna had to crack open for him. Embarrassment was veiled on his face.

You looked at his ringed hands, fumble with the small spoon. Did it always look so small?

“We’re not gonna start until the beginning of the week, but I might ask you to go get some supplies into town today and take these two with you. Eddie’s gonna need some nice paper for his typewriter, won’t you?” your father gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder, at which he smiled.

“Have another egg” your mother encouraged the boys. Eddie dug into the pot again, getting more confident with the way he spread the runny yolk on a slice of toast. Some of the runny egg dripped in between his fingers.

Just not as lucky as many.

Steve passed. “I know myself too well, if I have a second, I’ll just have a third and a fourth and a fifth and then I’m just gonna have to get rolled outta here” he joked. I know myself. Self- assured, cocky. You wondered what it felt like to really know yourself, to have everything figured out like he did.

You lent Steve Giuseppe’s old bike, Eddie got an old one of yours, the squeaky rusted tires alerting the two strangers’ presence. You were afraid you would have been pressured into giving one of them your own bike, seeing as you had already surrendered all of your possessions to them.

It was a pleasant day. Not too incredibly hot to be embarrassed if the two boys were to see you, face riddled with uncomfortable beads of sweat, breath heaving irregularly from the dry air of July. Instead, a nice breeze came through the mountains, as you debated on going for a swim later in the day.

That’s what you liked about your summers there. A swimsuit was always the wardrobe of choice under your summer clothes, the freedom to subsist in a plane of existence where your obligations began and ended within the span of a few miles of green grass and honeysuckle flowers.

The two boys followed you down the graveled road into town, which seemed to be deserted, families abandoning their houses in favor of driving to the beach for the weekend.

You asked them if they wanted to get a coffee, as you dismounted your bikes and parked them in front of a coffee place.

You sat outside as you sipped from your espresso cups.

“So” Steve broke the silence “What does one do around here?” you put down your book, the device you so desperately tried to ignore them with, trying to drown them out.

“Wait for the summer to end” you mumbled carelessly, going back to the words on the page.

“Ok and then in the winter you wait for the summer to start?” Eddie snickered.

“Seriously though, what do you do here the whole summer?” Steve interrupted, taking you away from your book again, as you tossed it on the table.

“I read, mostly. Play music, swim at the lake, go out” you huffed out annoyedly, reaching for the book. Eddie preceded you.

“Kafka? What happened to Monte Cristo?” he flicked through the yellowed pages.

“I finished it. How’d you know I was reading that?” you snatched the book back from his hands.

“It was on your bed before I slammed onto it. You should read something a bit more substantial,” he said “Kafka isn’t gonna teach you shit, why don’t you read Dorian Grey instead?” it annoyed you how patronizing his tone was.

“I read that last year, thanks for the help” you retorted, taking the book back from him with a roll of your eyes.

“Your dad seemed to make it abundantly clear that you need to be nice to us” Steve intervened, whining like a petulant child.

“Or what? You’ll snitch on me?” you snapped, the two boys looking at each other.

“Listen, sweetheart,” your nose curled at the nickname, “we’re not your enemies or whatever you think you’ve made us out to be. We really don’t want to be a nuisance to you” nothing about what he said seemed sincere. You rolled your eyes in response.

“Well,” Steve stood up from the metal chair with a violent noise, Eddie following suit “we’ll see you later,” as the both of them mounted their bikes and left. The creaking noises of the rusty old bikes followed in their pedaling.

They finally got the hint.

You spent the rest of your day at the lake, not really in a mood to interact with Chiara or Alessandro, two of your longtime friends. Instead, you made the slushing of the water current your friend, staring at the words on the page. Meaningless words. Kafka didn’t seem so enticing after all.

When you got home it went back on the dusty shelf. Your hand lingered on the spine of Dorian Grey for a moment. The cover was brown and worn, it was your mother’s before it became yours, your heart picked up at the words on the spine, gold lettering. You thought about what Eddie had said earlier.

You picked up Heart of Darkness instead.

tagging: @littlexdeaths, @xxbimbobunnyxx, @aphrogeneias, @rowanswriting, @stveharringtn, @impmunson, @strangerstilinski, @lavendermunson, @rebelfell, @bimbobaggins69, @cryingglightningg, @thornsnvultures, @jamdoughnutmagician, @take-everything-you-can, @eddiesxangel, @ali-r3n, @emxxblog, @corrodedcoffincumslut, @str4ngergirlw0rld, @yujyujj, @gregre369, @subconsciouscollapse, @aol19, @cooljadejacksonthings, @maeneedsabreak, @eddiesguitarskills, @freak-of-hawkins, @eddiesghxst

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saffronique · 11 months

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Was just struck by the overwhelming urge to rate Stormlight characters on their driving ability. I have no evidence I'm going off of vibes alone. Here they are in no particular order:

Dalinar- I think he's generally a fine driver now, though still prone to bouts of road rage when someone won't let him merge. Very bad driver in his youth. 5/10

Jasnah- I think she would be a shockingly bad driver. She seems like the kind of person that believes the rules of the road apply to everyone other than her. The type to run a red light because the meeting she's going to is important. Never uses her turn signals because if shes in the left lane it should be obvious shes making a left turn. Despite her lack of care she always arrives safely and without a ticket, somehow. Would fit right in in Northern Virginia. Also the worst backseat driver ever. 3/10

Sadeas- Good driver but employs bad practices. When traffic is heavy he uses the shoulder of the road as his own personal lane. Only person capable of surviving New York traffic. 6/10

Kaladin- Fantastic driver but kind of slow. Won't make a left turn unless there is literally no other car on the road. Always follows the speed limit and uses his turn indicators. Also the type to yell at everyone to shut the fuck up and let him drive when he's in heavy traffic. 8/10

Syl- Cannot be allowed to drive under any circumstances. Bridge 4 let her drive once and she backed the car into a mailbox. 0/10

Shallan- Shes a bad driver but better than Jasnah. Her following distance is atrocious and she frequently rear ends people, but she does at least try to follow the rules of the road. 4/10

Veil- Worse than Shallan but says she's better. Will take a turn at 60 to try and make the car drift. 2/10

Radiant- Fantastic driver who follows the ruled perfectly. Not great at responding to unexpected situations though. 8/10

Venli- Drives like a psychopath. Weaves in and out of lanes to get there 30 seconds faster. If traffic is bad she will dead ass make a U turn in the middle of the road over a double yellow to leave. 1/10

Rock- Great driver, but hates driving. Not much more to say. 8/10

Sigzil- Best driver in bridge 4, only slightly held back by the fact that he knows every obscure rule and expects everyone else driving does also. 9/10

Moash- Believes the rules of the road are stupid and there to hold him back. The kind of guy who will not let you merge in front of him like his life depends on it. Would go 100 in a school zone for fun. 2/10

The Lopen- The guy that tells you he's a great driver but starts playing pokemon go while behind the wheel because he can absolutely do both. 4/10

Szeth- Mediocre driver prone to shocking episodes of road rage. The kind of guy who would slam the brakes to make the car behind him rear end him out of spite if they were following too close. 5/10

Navani- Fantastic driver. Always has the newest lane correcting tech and such installed on her vehicle. 10/10

Adolin- Cannot stay focused on the road. Type of guy who will look over his shoulder for like 15 seconds to carry on a conversation until Shallan yells at him to look at the road. Horrible speeder. Usually manages to avoid crashing though. 3/10

Wit- Shockingly competent driver. I mean he had all that experience with Wax, so... 10/10

Gavilar- The kind of douche who lifts his truck and has his mufflers removed so he can rev his obnoxious engine whole going through neighborhoods. 1/10

Renarin- He's a good driver in small towns and on winding, narrow country roads, but cannot handle big city traffic. Luckily he knows and readily admits this. 7/10

BONUS:

Rlain- I feel like he's just a typical good driver. Follows the rules as best he can, goes a few miles over the speed limit on the freeway, but nothing crazy. 8/10

Kelsier- It's a miracle he's survived this long with the way he drives. He would make a left on red without hesitation. Vin screamed the first time she rode with him. 1/10

#stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #cosmere #the stormlight archive #stormlight #adolin kholin #dalinar kholin #torol sadeas #navani kholin #renarin kholin #shallan davar #kelsier

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estherdedlock · 2 years

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“As a matter of fact,” said Francis, “he was with you.” He glanced at Henry, and to my surprise the two of them began to laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” I said, alarmed. This sent them into fresh peals of laughter. “Nothing,” said Francis at last. “Really, it is nothing,” said Henry, with a bemused little sigh. “The oddest things make me laugh these days.”

I would give anything to know if Donna Tartt herself had any idea what these two jokers were laughing about. Did she know? Or did she just throw this into the scene as an example of how Richard is never really part of the group?

People are always talking about Richard as an unreliable narrator and a clueless idiot and a liar. But I don’t think you can underestimate how much Richard is lied to and manipulated by the rest of them. And they are so, so good at it.

In a passage not long after the one above, Richard accompanies the gang (minus Bunny) on a drive in the country and dinner at an out-of-the-way restaurant frequented only by locals. It’s an odd interlude that seems to go on longer than it should, and not have much impact on anything that comes after it. But it’s the perfect example of why you need to read TSH more than once. It’s only after you know what’s going to happen that a section like this makes sense.

The drive takes place the day after Henry has told Richard about the bacchanal. Camilla goes to Richard’s room and asks him to take a ride with the rest of them. Richard, still burning off some tranquilizer or other, follows Camilla to Commons and finds the other four waiting for him. “The configuration struck me as significant,” he says, “everyone except for Bunny...”

It’s not the absence of Bunny that’s important here, it’s the presence of Richard. They’re at a crucial moment with him. He’s only known about the bacchanal for a few hours, and they can’t take a chance on what he’s going to do next.

Henry has a very sharp understanding of Richard’s insecurity and need to belong...I know he sees Richard more clearly than Richard can see himself. Henry knows that the most vital thing right now is for Richard to feel like one of them, and to begin thinking of Bunny as the outsider.

It’s no coincidence that Camilla is the one who comes to collect Richard for this little jaunt. I’m sure that Henry deliberately sent her up to his room, or she thought of it herself. They know that Richard’s infatuated with her, and so what better way to get his guard down? He’ll follow her anywhere, the poor sap.

After that, everything is very friendly and cozy, even as the countryside they’re driving through grows increasingly ominous:

I found it difficult to get my bearings, and it seemed as if we were heading into strange and unmarked territory...It was dark now. Around us, the countryside lay veiled and mysterious, silent in the night and fog. This was remote, untraveled land, rocky and thickly wooded, with none of the quaint appeal of Hampden and its rolling hills, its ski chalets and antique shops, but high and perilous and primitive, everything black and desolate even of billboards.

I’ve lived in northern New England, and I can attest to the fact that an ordinary drive can go from quaint to creepy in the space of a few miles, especially at dusk in the winter. Donna Tartt uses this real-life regional phenomenon to great effect. She removes Richard from the familiar environs of the campus and casts him into such a foreboding and lonely wilderness that Henry’s car, and the little group of friends inside, feels like a refuge of warmth and fellowship.

For the rest of this scene, Richard sees his friends (at least he thinks they’re his friends) as almost magical. Their elegant appearance arouses curiosity at the rundown inn where they have dinner, but not disapproval. They make a great impression on a young waiter and Richard is awed by Henry’s “genuine knack” with “simple, country folk” and his ability to chat comfortably with the waiter as an equal. The passage closes with Richard realizing that he feels “curiously happy, and at ease with the world.”

It’s notable that immediately after this section, we get page after page of Richard suddenly attuned to Bunny’s faults and transgressions. Eight pages after that dinner at the Housatonic Inn, Richard flatly states that he has grown to “abhor” Bunny. So as far as that little road trip is concerned...mission accomplished.

I’m often relieved that Donna Tartt became a writer, and not just because I love her books. Without such a positive creative outlet, heaven only knows what a mind this diabolical might have gotten up to.

#the secret history #donna tartt #richard papen #henry winter #camilla macaulay #dark academia

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the-90s-music-colosseum · 7 months

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Round 2 Group A Match 4

expand for propaganda ↓ (major wall-of-text warning. don't say I didn't warn you) (nazi reference has been removed)

KD Lang:

"She's a lesbian (+100 points) and she was just really hot back then (+10000 points)"

"incredibly clear, sensual mezzo soprano voice -- kd lang's music literally transports you into the narrative of the song. they have a very charismatic appeal that makes them very attractive amazing bone structure and i love the short, choppy hair on top of that their fashion sense is peak, from the 1992 miss chatelaine ballroom dress to the suit on the august 1993 vanity fair cover to the shoulder-length hair and orange jacket on 1995's "all you can eat" i would literally give my life for kd lang i'm obsessed"

"VOTE KD LANG IF YOU LOVE LESBIANS. (AND YOU SHOULD LOVE LESBIANS)"

Jarvis Cocker:

"if jarvis wins I'm mailing him my underwear"

"I just want to tuck him in bed and read to him fairytales while he sips a cup of cocoa please is that to much"

"Jarvis Cocker and Jesus Christ share the same initials so that means that they are one flesh meaning that if you love Jesus you love Jarvis and vice versa"

"jarvision the best division 🫡"

"if jarvis wins I'll read The Hobbit in latin"

"I flew to London a couple of weeks ago and the first thing that I did was take the tube to waterstones picadilly and spend there about an hour looking for jarvis' book that they didn't have. Then I made my way (in the rain without an umbrella) to Foyles to see if they had it there and, again, they didn't have it."

"he's 6'3"

"I have never been more sexually attracted to a man than Jarvis cocker in the this is hardcore mv. I want to flatten him out with a rolling pin like pizza dough and then smack him against the wall. I am so horny I should be shot."

"Everytime I see jarvis cocker videos or pics I twirl my hair, kick my legs and giggle uncontrollably. Or I bite my arm and scream. I'm so mesmerised by his beautiful doe eyes and his weird dances that often lean very sexual. He's everything"

"the way jarvis' body is built is just extraordinary yknow like his spindly buglike legs"

"all I want in life is to take a shower with him and wash that greasy ass lice looking hair for once"

"Jarvis Cocker's last name is Cocker = he should win cuz cock haha"

"I want to spoon-feed him my grandma's chicken soup"

"I want to cock you jarvis <3333333"

"hottest most delicious looking man on earth"

"I didn't rant about him in English lang for him not to win"

"I love him a lot he looks like an insect ♥️"

"Jarvis cocker this is hardcore mv. No guillotine could take away the sloppy, disgusting, throbbing, dripping head I would give that man"

"never wanted a man so bad in my life, he looks like a pretty girl whilst having such a nice deep northern sheffield voice, i want him so bad i'm gonna be genuinely upset if my future bf doesn't look like him"

"apparently a girl he had slept with noted that he made sure that he satisfied all her needs in bed IM JUST GONNA LEAVE THIS INFO HERE AND YOU DO WHAT YOU WANT WITH THAT CUZ"

"need to have car sex with him whilst moving his greasy bangs out the way with my fingers"

"i went all the way to ireland to cure my hyperfixation but im still dreaming about the insect man 😍 i want to do the dishes with him"

"Jarvis is the kind of man that will tell you in explicit detail how much he likes to be pegged"

"currently smashing his sheffildian buttocks"

"I'd like to put my head on his shoulder right by his neck and just stay there, with his somewhat shaved beard making contact with my face and some strands of his hair coming loose and caressing me"

"is it zoophilic of me to say that I'm attracted to his insect looking way"

"Jarvis is everything! 90s Jarvis is a sarcastic smart bitter horny devil. 2000s Jarvis is a romantic fool. Current Jarvis? Lyrically, he is still both the horniest and most romantic and imho has the sexiest speaking voice of his generation. I used to listen to his BBC 6 radio show and when he said my name on air during their listener special I lost my goddamn mind. Celebrate the anniversary of it annually."

#most attractive 90s musician #polls #poll #90s music #90s #tournament #kd lang #jarvis cocker #pulp band

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girlactionfigure · 19 days

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🔅Wed evening - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

🔻ALERTS..

Rockets - from Hezbollah - at Kiryat Shmona, Tel Hai, Ma'ayan Baruch, Kfar Giladi, Kfar Yuval

Drones - from Hezbollah - at Beit Hillel, Kfar Giladi, Kfar Yuval, Metulla, Manara, Ma'ayan Baruch, Margaliot, Misgav Am, Kiryat Shmona, Tel Hai

▪️DEFENSE MINISTER SAYS.. “We will enter Rafah and enter the center camps. Hamas is defeated and in hiding.”

▪️GERMANY FINDS OUT.. Tens of millions of Euros from Germany for the sewer infrastructure of Gaza were diverted and used to build the terror tunnels of Hamas.

▪️FOLLOWING INFO THAT AN OCT. 7 TERRORIST WAS AT HADASSAH HOSPITAL.. Hostage and Soldier family members made their way to Hadassah Mount Scopus hospital following information that a terrorist from the Oct. 7 massacre was receiving medical treatment in the intensive care unit. Security officials quickly removed the terrorist and took him to an on-base medical facility.

▪️IDF WARNS.. via “sources”, "We will have difficulty meeting the commitment to create a buffer zone one kilometer from the Gaza border." At the same time, sources warn that Hamas is making an effort to restore its capabilities in preparation for a future attack, while Israel is promoting unprecedented humanitarian aid to the Gaza Strip. (Walla)

▪️HAMAS BANKER ASSASSINATED.. Muhammad Sarour, 57 years old, who has been under US sanctions since 2019 for transferring funds from the Iranian Revolutionary Guards to the military wing of Hamas, was found dead yesterday in a villa in the village of Beit Mary, east of Beirut. He was found in the villa when he was shot (6 bullets) and the 2 Glock pistols used to kill him were found in the kitchen of the villa while they were in a special cleaning agent to eliminate traces.

▪️HAMAS LEADERSHIP - SONS OF LEADER, ASSASSINATED.. Hazem, Amir and Mohammed, three of the sons of Ismail Haniya, chairman of the political bureau of Hamas, were killed in an airstrike on a car in the Shati camp in Gaza. Haniya says, “I thank allahaha for this honor he gave me. My sons died a martyr's death.”

▪️WAR PREP? .. Min. of Education instructs schools to instruct their students to take their books and supplies home for Passover - possibly allowing for remote teaching. Min. of Health has instructed hospitals to move primary operations to hardened operating rooms, particularly in the north. Wise basic prep, or?

▪️YEMEN WAR PREP? The Yemeni forces raised alert on all land fronts, the explanation, unusual military movements related to the United Arab Emirates.

▪️US WAR ACTIVITY.. Intensive flights of American spy planes in the Persian Gulf and over the airspace of Saada province in northern Yemen. 3 aerial refuelers were also observed over the bay.

▪️IRAN - DEFENSES UP.. “The joint defense base of Khatam al-Anbiya has put all missile units and radar systems on full alert throughout the country.”

🟠 CEASEFIRE TALKS.. Hamas: “The resistance informed the mediators that it is not ready to give up a mechanism for a complete end to the fighting and that it rejects the Israeli threats regarding military action in Rafah.” The Hamas delegation that left Cairo will not return soon.

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Gaza #Israel/HamasWar #Real Time Updates

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onenicebugperday · 1 year

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@ninecat submitted: Hello! I recently discovered you and really enjoy the informative and positive content. Here are some bugs I’ve hoarded photos of over the years! Knew I saved these photos for some reason after all, haha.

First is this guy I noticed in Puerto Rico. He or she was bigger than a quarter! Very impressive.

These two were in Virginia! The grasshopper (?) was at Shenandoah National Park and the Monarch (?) somewhere around mid-northern VA. It was a hot day so we tried to provide water on the spoon. Not sure if that helped or was a good idea. 😅

Last was this hitchhiker in North Dakota! Our friend here did not like me removing them from the car and left a present on my hand. I forgive them though XD.

All in all feel free to ID, but mostly I wanted to share my bugs! I admit though, I -am- curious about the Puerto Rico beetle (?) especially, if it’s not too much trouble. Either way thank you! Love this blog. :)

Hi! I’m glad you hoarded your old bug photos so we can all enjoy them. I’m assuming the first beetle is some type of scarab, but I’d need a clearer photo to tell you which.

The green leggy fellow is not a grasshopper but a katydid! The butterfly is a tiger swallowtail rather than a monarch. Offering a nectar-drinking bug plain water or putting them on/near a flower if they seem weak is fine, but if they’re moving normally I wouldn’t bother!

The last fellow is a two-striped grasshopper :)

#animals #insects #bugs #submission #beetle #scarab beetle #katydid #butterfly #tiger swallowtail #grasshopper #two striped grasshopper

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moral-terpitude · 6 days

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The Hearts Of Lonely People - Part II

Part I

Word Count: 2,628

A/N: these were supposed to be short blurbs and then I got carried away. Not proofread because there are no rules.

Warnings: discussion of assault, abortion, mention of cannibalism, drugs, cannon typical themes.

***

We don’t work today. Those of us with the less important jobs anyway. My father will still be at work, until the Reaping starts, which will be shown on every television through the building. Just like the coverage of the games will be once they begin.

They want us to take the day to prepare, to spend it with our families because it may be the last time we see them.

We are, despite everything, fortunate in 6. We don’t have the worries of the sparse electricity in places like District 12, where, so we’ve been told, their nights are sometimes only lit by candle light and they only have the coal they produce from their mines in order to make their dinners.

We make something important, so they make sure we always have power, and, of course, with all of our trees, we always have the kindling and bundles to make a fire.

On a regular day, I would get up and dress in a pair of dungarees and a shirt with stains of paint and thinner.

My job is one that surprises me even exists, which at the same time, with catering to the rich luxuries of the people in the Capitol, it shouldn’t be shocking.

I paint the cars in the factory that my father is in charge of. On some days, this is a simple task. A coat of one color, all the same.

On other days, I am allowed the small freedom of creativity when they request something different, because those that live in the Capitol don’t stop at just the modifications to their clothes and bodies. Of course it would extend to their cars, too.

Vehicles covered in flowers, feathers, sometimes tasteful stripes, and other times simple graduated colors from one end to the other.

I’m surprised someone as mundane as myself is allowed to do this. I am not important. I’m not anyone, really, and they trust me with this.

The work, once it’s set up, is easy, but the preparation can take some time. There is heavy lifting involved, the removal of the precious metal trims, and the time to sand down the vehicle are what I think has kept me from getting bored of the monotony of the single colors.

I look down at the cord around my neck as my mother stands behind me, brushing out the pale blonde hair, only lightened from the sun, days spent helping my father with tending the small garden that we are allowed to have has given it enough exposure to lighten it from the dirty blonde color it usually is.

In the necklace is a small piece of, what I’ve heard my father call it, Fordite. All it really is, is paint. Layers of paint that have dripped off the cars, thick and thin layers, that are dried, and then cut into different shapes.

The one I’m wearing is round, mainly greens and blues, with one spot having a faint purple streak, wrapped in wire and situated on a leather cord, tied in a knot around my neck. My father made it for my mother as a gift to wear on the day of their wedding.

I don’t remember any of my sisters wearing it, but, there’s something about the way it sits on my chest that makes me worry less, so I don’t ask questions.

We are 10th in line for the Reaping. The Capitol has them staggered in intervals throughout the day so that everyone can watch. I’m thankful we have most of our day to spend together. We have to be at the square by 1:00PM to watch for who of our District will be sent to fight for their lives.

My mother has been fighting with the small fire in the middle room and the set of hair irons for longer than I think is necessary. I shouldn’t complain. The people from the most inhabited northern part of our District, the ones that don’t have access to an old vehicle for some kind of transportation, would have had to start walking days ago or hope there was room for them on the busses that they shuttle the factory workers back and forth each day to make it here.

It sounds miserable, to travel that far just to turn around and go back after such a short time.

The thought makes me choke up as my mother parts out another chunk of my hair, wrapping it around the hot iron, freezing me in place.

Sometimes I enjoy that I forget that I’ve traveled to the uppermost part of our District. The people are fewer, less Peacekeepers stationed there, and, the tip that is covered by the peninsula from District 9 is claimed to be mostly uninhabited.

I dislike that I know differently. I, like the other women and girls that refuse to bring a child into the world we live in, know the truth.

It’s easy to stowaway on those buses. They don’t keep count, some people choose to sleep in the lots behind the factories in the warmer months, rather than make their way back home on the few hours journey, so, to blend in is easy.

I wasn’t scared to go somewhere new.

I was only scared of what would happen when I got there. To hope that the end result wouldn’t result in casualty.

I can hear chatter outside as people pass by the window in groups. We are the most inhabited part of the District, with most of our 700,000 plus people residing somewhere nearby.

She doesn’t burn me with the irons this year, thankfully. She never does it on purpose, but usually someone walks away with a burn or two. Between her shaky hands and tears in her eyes, I try not to get upset, it’s something that she thinks is important. It just feels foolish to me.

My mother rakes her fingers through the curls while my hair is still hot. She straightens the collar of tbe dress and necklace before we go out to join the rest of our guests.

Our television is on, but no one pays attention as my sisters, their husbands, and their children arrive, luckily young enough to not yet be faced with what the day truly means, what the Reaping really is.

There is food cooking, and the smell of all of the different dishes that my sisters have brought, as well as a few of our older neighbors, makes my stomach yearn for it to be time to eat.

I sneak outside of our red brick home, thankful for the silence amongst the bubbling of conversation that goes on inside.

There’s a hum of electricity in the air as I sneak through the alleys and side streets of our neighborhood, thankful that the regular lineup of Peacekeepers must be either distracted by the people that have already begun gathering in the square or are dealing with the morphlings that would be foolish enough to try and trade their smuggled contraband in the open.

We’re used to it, and most of us ignore them, but the northerners don’t take as kindly to their antics and are ready to report them the first chance that they get.

I take a deep breath, thankful that the sun is blocked once I reach The Mural.

The Mural stands mixed in with rubble and vines that try to grow and cover it, cracking through the ground and reaching for the sunlight.

Occasionally, myself, and, I assume, others, will clean it off, leaving the image exposed once again.

No one knows when it is from, but the images show the process of building a vehicle, just like we are known for here in 6.

Something about it fascinates me and brings me comfort. One of the things other than my family that I associate with home.

I’m not sure how long I stay there, long enough to feel the hunger setting in and urging me to return home.

Some people continue to stop by as they make their way to the square.

Dalton, my oldest and only friend, in truth, arrives just before we are ready to leave. Skinny, like most of us are (because although we are fortunate enough to live in the better part of 6 doesn’t mean that we’re that much better off, although some of the northerners and those who live on the outskirts seem to think so) with sandy hair and kind eyes, he’s the only person that has ever been able to see eye to eye with me, and for that I’m thankful.

“Are you worried?” He finally asks as we pass an alley where two Peacekeepers are stationed at the opening.

I play absentmindedly with the necklace.

“No,” I lie, everyone is worried today, but to say yes would just make me feel weak, “are you?”

He shakes his head, “No, we’ve made it this far, right, mouse?”

I shake my head at him. Dalton has called me mouse every since the first time I went to their home, feeling rude to eat anything off the table other than bread and cheese.

The Square is full. Cameras, brought in this morning from the Capitol, line the streets and buildings to televise the ordeal to the rest of our nation. The sun is just leaving its peak in the sky, thankfully behind us but the rising humidity makes a thin layer of sweat start to raise across my forehead.

Aster Greenleaf and Culver Paragon are the only two living Victors from District 6. Their cheeks are hallowed, their eyes large in contrast to their skulls, and their yellowing skin hangs off their bones in a way that makes me fear they may take flight if the breeze comes through wrong.

They look like they have done their best to look as presentable as they each can for the occasion, but they stare on as if they don’t truly see what is going on around them.

I shuffle to the side in our compartment of all the 18 year olds. Dalton stands beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and I know that if it were like other times where I’ve lied and said I’m not worried, just us, he would hold my hand, because we’re both scared, but looking soft at a moment like this is no use, so we both stare on with brave faces and wait.

Clementine Sterlingshire, the escort for District 6, with her peach colored hair, introduces our District Victors, waiting for some kind of response in applause, but it’s sparse through the crowd.

They both managed to make it far in their games, the 65th and 62nd, by using camouflage tactics instead of confrontation.

It surprises me that the Gamemakers didn’t try and write them off sooner like they did two years ago with Titus, the cannibal, that, even at his age was likely suffering Morphling withdraw, and began to eat the dead he had killed before they engineered an avalanche to kill him.

Compared to other victors I don’t think the Capitol would be overly entertained by someone winning by blending into their surroundings.

Behind Clementine, Aster and Culver sink into their seats, and Mayor Ankley settles beside them.

I can’t stand the thought of anything to do with their family. His son, Gerard, caused me the most grief I’d ever experienced in my 16 years, at the time.

He looked at me like he wished me dead when I told him I was going to travel north to find a healer that would help me terminate the life inside me that he had cursed me with. The result, was the same woman treating me for a black eye and a busted lip as well.

Sadly, she told me the occurrence wasn’t that uncommon.

Mayor Ankley recites his yearly speech, and I let my mind wander while Clementine steps aside and lets him speak.

The air doesn’t move. It just hangs around everyone packed tightly into the square. The mayor finishes his speech by talking about our four victors, saying he is thankful that two of them are here to join us today.

I feel bad for whoever has to be mentored by Aster and Culver. The thought of the lives of people from our district depending on their coaching isn’t really a reassuring one.

Clementine smiles, returning to the microphone, the feedback echoing through the square at the continued silence before she speaks.

“Thank you, Mayor Ankley! Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!”

I swallow hard as she echos the statement that every escort chirps before they stick their hand in the glass ball and choose two youth to send to their deaths.

In 68 years we have only had four victors in our district. It’s not a good average. Nothing like the careers from districts 1, 2, and 3, anyway.

“We’ll start with the girls,” Clementine smooths the fabric of her metallic dress, sleek and curved with metal accents just like the bodies of the cars we make before I paint them.

There’s silence as her hand grasps a piece of paper, keeping it folded before she speaks into the microphone.

“Quinn Meyer!”

Everyone else hears my name. All I hear is my heart causing my thoughts to swim.

The thudding in my ears doesn’t silence as my former classmates part to give me room to walk to the platform, Dalton giving my hand a firm squeeze that almost brings tears to my eyes as I drag my feet along.

They’re lead. My shoes must be filled with it now anyway, because it feels as if it takes me hours of walking through the hot air to stand next to Clementine on the stage.

She’s a bit taller than I am, which surprises me, because up on the stage she always seems so small and far away.

Clementine nods at me, a small smile and she continues with the ceremony.

This is procedure. This is routine. This is normal for her.

But not for me! I’ve stood for the last five years and always watched it be someone else. Someone who looks more suited to the task.

There’s no way I’ll make it out of this alive. Truly.

“And now for the boys!”

I’m not as strong as I think I am. So what, that I move some paint and sand down cars? I can’t climb, I can’t fight, and I don’t think I could kill someone even if I had to.

Clementine returns next to me with the slip, and there’s a pause, a beat, as she opens it, reading the name before speaking into the microphone clear as day.

“Gerard Ankley!”

I think my heart truly stops. I look through the crowd, and see, barely, Dalton start to move.

No.

No one in our district has ever volunteered to be tribute. Ever. I don’t think they would know the protocol even if someone did. It isn’t like we have careers that vye for the honor of being tribute.

I shake my head at him as subtly as possible, and he stops. I know what he thinks, that it would be less terrible if we could be there together instead of being sent to my death with someone who truly has already wanted to kill me, but the thought, if we both survive and one of us had to kill the other to be able to come back home, I couldn’t kill my best friend.

Gerard stands next to me on stage, and Clementine seems upset that I refuse to shake his hand, but looking at Gerard, I know, for sure, I won’t be returning home alive.

For that I am certain.

#thg fanfiction #thg #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #hunger games au #Quinn Meyer #the hunger games au #oc fanfic #peaky blinders #fanfic au #tw abortion #tw assault #tw cannibalism

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seecarrun · 2 years

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“Holy shit.”

Mike and Bill leaned forward to get a better look at the gift Eddie had just unwrapped. “What is it?” Mike asked.

“It’s…” Eddie started, pausing to fully remove the gift from the gift bag. “It’s a Broadway Limited Great Northern #2586.”

“Oh. Right, yeah. No one knows what that means, man,” Mike replied with a wry smile, making Bill snort next to him, but Eddie continued anyway.

“My dad collected these train cars,” he explained, turning the car over in his hands, reverently. “I told Richie about this one getting broken in the move from Derry, like, months ago. Fuck, this thing must have cost him a fortune. That’s why I never got it replaced in the first place.”

Mike whistled. “Damn. Didn’t realize ol’ Trashmouth had it in him.”

Bill scoffed. “C’mon Mikey, it’s Richie. Under that scruffy, borderline indecent exterior, he’s always been a hopeless romantic at heart. You know how he gets when it comes to Eddie.”

The room fell suddenly, devastatingly silent.

“Um,” Eddie squeaked, clearing his throat. “What was that?”

Bill’s eyes widened. “Uh,” he stammered. “Richie’s borderline indecency?”

“No, dumbass, the other thing. What do you mean he’s a romantic and ‘you know how he gets about Eddie’?”

Bill turned, still very wide-eyed to Mike, silently begging for help, so Mike sighed and rested a warm, comforting hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Eddie,” he began, almost apologetically, “you do know Richie is like, ridiculously in love with you, right?”

Eddie’s mouth fell open as his eyes widened comically. “…What?”

Well then. Guess that was a no.

#reddie #car’s fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #I was watching that episode of friends last night with Rachel’s birthday and got inspired lol

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northerncarremovalmelbourne · 1 year

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bluejaysandblackbats · 3 months

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Library of Ashes

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Jason takes an interest in the family business (Gotham’s oldest library) when he stumbles upon a secret collection of journals, photo albums, and a book written by his mother.

Chapters: 1/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Kate Kane, Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Lonnie Machin, Original Character(s)

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character(s)

Additional Tags: Library AU, No Capes AU, World Travel, Jason Todd-centric, Third Person POV, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has Issues, Angst, Mystery, Mentioned Catherine Todd, Mentioned Willis Todd, Mentioned Sheila Haywood, Claustrophobic Jason Todd

Chapter One: Fresh From Belize

The car hit a bump in the road, and Jason took a sharp inhale, removing his glasses. He ran a hand over his face, staring out the window at the foggy city. “How long ya visitin’ for?” the driver questioned.

“I live here,” Jason mumbled as he checked the time on his phone. “I’ve been abroad for the past five years.”

“Oh yeah?” the driver questioned. “Where’d you go?”

“Costa Rica, Madagascar, Italy… You name it,” Jason answered, “I fished for a few months in Iceland, worked in a restaurant in Northern Italy, and taught a salsa class in Japan.”

“Sounds like you lived a full life,” the driver replied. Jason nodded.

The air smelled the same. Piss, water, and chemicals. Jason wrinkled his nose. “You got a home to go to?” the driver questioned as he pulled in front of the Gotham library. It was a four-story building as ornate as it was tall. Its stained glass windows, large doorways, and a garden that seemed unphased by time itself.

“Unfortunately, yes… Thanks for the ride,” Jason replied as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “You mind popping the trunk for me?”

The driver popped the trunk, and Jason stepped out, grabbed his bag, and thanked the man for picking him up from the airport. Stretching his arms and legs as he entered the library, he took his glasses from his pocket, pushing them up the bridge of his nose. Jason hadn’t told anyone he was back in Gotham. Not that he expected a warm welcome. Bruce stood in the children’s area, mingling with parents over hot cocoa and cookies. He wore a turtleneck and almost looked like a family man. Almost… If he hadn’t been flirting with one of the single mothers in the group. Jason scoffed as he attempted to sneak past the front desk to the staircase. He nearly made it to the staircase before Bruce sped over. “Jason? Is that you?” Bruce questioned. Jason stopped in his tracks, his back turned to his father as he nodded solemnly.

“Can I get settled in upstairs before we fight?” Jason mumbled. Bruce grabbed his arm.

“I don’t wanna fight, Jason… Can we-? Do you wanna talk?” Bruce asked. “Where’ve you been?”

Jason sighed. “Can’t we skip the niceties and fight, so I could finish unpacking and get something to eat?” Jason questioned. Bruce held on. “Okay... We can talk, but I’m gonna unpack and order in.”

“Okay,” Bruce replied, following him to the fourth floor. “Nobody’s lived here in over a year… So, it might be a little-.” Jason knocked on the bricks in the wall until he found the loose one. He pulled it out and took the key to unlock the door.

“I bet you didn’t change anything… You even kept the key in the same-.” Jason turned the light on, and his heart dropped into his stomach. “What the fuck is this?”

Jason walked straight toward the pegboard in the center of the room. “Jason, I needed to know you weren’t-. I-.”

“I sent a postcard on your birthday,” Jason interrupted as he took the sticky notes off the board.

“Once,” Bruce replied through clenched teeth.

Jason took his backpack off and set his things nicely on the table. A silk cloth, a toothbrush, a bar of soap, a hairbrush, a new box of toothpaste, a pocket-sized journal, a pen, and a portable cassette player. “Cool, so are we fighting now?” Jason snapped. Bruce shook his head.

“I missed you… For half a decade, I agonized over your loss-.”

Jason pulled a single pair of pajamas from his bag. “I ran out on you… I didn’t die. Don’t think I could’ve made that clearer in the postcard,” Jason mumbled.

Bruce sat in the easy chair, staring at him. “You’re parting your hair there again,” Bruce whispered, “Like when you were a little boy-.”

“Uh-huh… Well… I’m not a little boy, Bruce. Does the phone up here still work?” Jason questioned. Bruce nodded. Jason stood up and grabbed the house phone from the kitchen. He stood at the kitchen island, dragging the numbers in the old rotary phone.

“Welcome to Pretty Pauletta’s, where the pizza’s always perfect and the party never stops. Can I take your order?” a woman answered.

“Uh, yeah… Can I get the special with everything on it, a side of fries and a Coke?” Jason replied.

“Diet? Cherry-?”

“Regular, thanks… Bruce, do you want something?” Jason asked casually without making eye contact.

“No, thank you, Jason,” Bruce whispered. Jason could hear the defeat in Bruce’s voice. It wouldn’t be long before Bruce walked out. Jason recited his payment information and thanked the woman before hanging up. “Where did you come from?”

“Belize. I was only there for a few months,” Jason replied.

Bruce nodded, staring intently at Jason. "You look good," Bruce complimented, "You've got color in your cheeks again…"

"Did I ever have any color in my cheeks here?" Jason asked. Bruce chewed his lip. "Are you gonna have a problem with me staying up here?"

"On the contrary, I want you to stay… On one condition," Bruce replied.

"I don't give a shit about this library, Bruce-."

"You work here, and I'll let you live here for free as long as you like. And I'll unfreeze your trust fund-."

"I don't give a shit about my trust fund," Jason interrupted as he hung his jacket up. "There's nothing you could say to convince me to work-."

"I won't call or visit unless you ask me to," Bruce replied. Jason screwed up his face. "Do we have a deal?"

"Not so much as a pleasant hello?" Jason asked. Bruce shook his head. "Fine." Bruce shook his hand. "Deal starts tomorrow. You look like you've got questions." It was his attempt at being cordial.

“Why’d you come back?” Bruce questioned.

“I don’t know… I got stabbed in Belize, and somewhere in between the two weeks I spent in some random hospital fighting infection and coming home to find out a water pipe burst in my apartment, and I was fired from my job while at the hospital,” Jason answered. “I don’t think I’ll stay, though.”

“How long were you in Belize?” Bruce asked.

Jason opened the cabinets. “A few months,” Jason replied, “Three. Maybe four…”

“TV works… Sometimes I come up here to watch the news,” Bruce mumbled. Jason turned the tv on.

Bruce leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair. Jason couldn’t relax to sit down, so he unpacked his suitcase. After ten minutes of uninterrupted silence, someone rang the doorbell. “Sure, you don’t want any pizza?” Jason questioned. Bruce shook his head. Jason tipped the delivery man and took his food to the coffee table.

“Why didn’t you call home when you got stabbed?” Bruce questioned.

Jason shrugged as he ate. “It wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to me in five years,” Jason replied, “I hope you don’t mind. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.” He devoured his pizza and fries before tidying up.

“I should let you get to sleep,” Bruce whispered. Jason nodded. Bruce stood up and reached to mess up Jason’s hair. Jason flinched away. “Right… Goodbye, Jason.”

“Bye, Bruce,” Jason replied. Bruce let himself out, and Jason hid his face in his hands. “I shouldn’t have come here...”

He allowed himself to breathe before unfolding a blanket from the linen closet and setting up a hammock in the corner of the living room. After his shower, he curled up in his hammock and let the gentle rocking of the hammock lull him to sleep.

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leeenuu · 2 years

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Photos from these past few days:

Removing the remains of a Russian tank turret on Tuesday, May 10, 2022 along a roadside near the town of Dmytrivka, where Ukrainian and Russian troops fought in March on the doorstep of the capital city. (David Guttenfelder/The New York Times)

A girl sits inside a subway car, parked in a metro station being used as a bomb shelter in Kharkiv, Ukraine, Thursday, May 12, 2022. (AP Photo/Mstyslav Chernov)

People gather to fill cans with water from a firefighters truck in Lysychansk, Luhansk region, Ukraine, Friday, May 13, 2022. (AP Photo/Leo Correa)

A girl with her grandparents from Lyman ride in the bus during evacuation near Lyman, Ukraine, Wednesday, May 11, 2022. (AP Photo/Evgeniy Maloletka)

Associate professor of Ukrainian literature Mykhailo Spodarets gives an online lesson from the basement of his house, used as a temporary shelter, in Kharkiv, Ukraine, Thursday, May 12, 2022. (AP Photo/Mstyslav Chernov)

Orthodox Sister Evdokia, right, helps Maxim to come up from the crater of an explosion, after Russian shelling next to the Orthodox Skete in honor of St. John of Shanghai in Adamivka, near Slovyansk, Donetsk region, Ukraine, Tuesday, May 10, 2022. (AP Photo/Andriy Andriyenko)

Soldiers with the Carpathian Sich Battalion reviewing drone footage of an attack against Russian forces near the front in the Kharkiv region on Wednesday, May 11, 2022. (Lynsey Addario/The New York Times)

An Ukrainian firefighter works near a destroyed building on the outskirts of Odesa, Ukraine, Tuesday, May 10, 2022. The Ukrainian military said Russian forces fired seven missiles a day earlier from the air at the crucial Black Sea port of Odesa, hitting a shopping center and a warehouse. (AP Photo/Max Pshybyshevsky)

Debris and barricades littering a road on the northern outskirts of the eastern Ukrainian city of Kharkiv on Thursday, May 12, 2022. (Finbarr O'Reilly/The New York Times)

Ukrainian children holding toy guns made from sticks and pretending to operate a checkpoint in a village in the Donetsk region on Thursday, May 12, 2022. (Lynsey Addario/The New York Times)

#war in ukraine #russian world #<- my tag for those photos #i keep looking at these pictures and my heart aches bc this should not be happening #but i also feel anger at russia for doing this and at the west for enabling it after 2014 #and also the fact that they did not punish russia for the crimes of the soviet union #bc russia was the successor of the soviet union or whatever tf those rushists kept shouting #and therefore the crimes of the union should go to russia as well #but no because they were the 'liberators of europe'#liberators my ass bithc the only thing they liberated us from was our life under freedom

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bestepisode · 2 months

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The top 8 episodes from each season will move on to the next round.

Vote on the second half of the season here!

Episode descriptions are under the cut.

A Breath of Fresh Air

Two weeks after Harmonic Convergence, portions of Republic City have become covered in spirit vines and after Korra cannot remove them, President Raiko expels her from the city. Around the world, people begin to spontaneously develop the ability to airbend, including Bumi. Tenzin, Korra, and her friends embark on an airship trip to attempt to recruit these people into a new Air Nomad nation. Meanwhile, the dangerous criminal Zaheer escapes from a remote prison thanks to his own new airbending skills.

Rebirth

Traveling across the Earth Kingdom with Team Avatar and Jinora, Tenzin finds that most of the new airbenders are not willing to uproot their lives to join the new Air Nation, although they find a first recruit in Kai, a sly young thief trying to escape Earth Kingdom authorities. Meanwhile, Zaheer liberates the earthbender Ghazan and the armless waterbender Ming-Hua from their respective prisons and is apparently intent on abducting or killing the Avatar. An elderly Zuko travels to the North Pole, where the last member of Zaheer's band is being kept.

The Earth Queen

Team Avatar arrive in Ba Sing Se as part of their search for new airbenders, and receive an ambivalent welcome from Hou-Ting, who is of the belief that Avatar Aang manipulated her father in his time on the throne. Korra reluctantly agrees to a tax collection effort on the Queen's behalf in order to gain her cooperation, fighting off bandits with Asami during the mission. But the queen claims that there are no airbenders in the city. Meanwhile, Kai absconds from the group to pickpocket, and while looking for him, Mako and Bolin meet the family of their late father. They learn that cities secret police, the Dai Li (who are now more firmly under the control of throne, but still sinister in nature) are capturing new airbenders, and indeed Kai is arrested and told he'll have to serve in the army. At the North Pole, Zuko, the new northern water tribe chiefs Desna and Eska, and Korra's father Tonraq visit Zaheer's last imprisoned comrade, his girlfriend P'Li, a dangerous firebender.

In Harm's Way

At the North Pole, Zaheer and his team free P'Li from her icy prison, and she is revealed to be a powerful combustion-bender. In Ba Sing Se, Lin Beifong arrives to warn Korra about the threat to her life. With Lin's aid, Team Avatar liberate the press-ganged airbenders. After escaping the Dai Li and the Earth Queen's wrath, Tenzin takes the airbenders to the Northern Air Temple, while Lin, Korra, and her friends search for more airbenders.

The Metal Clan

Team Avatar arrive in Zaofu, a metal city led by Suyin Beifong, Lin's estranged half-sister and the mother of Opal, a new airbender. Korra begins training Opal, but cannot convince Lin to mend the rift between herself and Suyin. In Republic City, Zaheer infiltrates Air Temple Island in an attempt to find Korra but escapes after he is identified and attacked by Kya.

Old Wounds

While Korra learns metalbending from Suyin, Lin confronts memories of her youth: as a young police officer, she was scarred by Suyin while apprehending her at a crime scene, and their mother Toph covered up the incident before sending Suyin away and resigning as police chief. After a violent confrontation, the sisters reconcile with one another. Meanwhile, Zaheer and his crew escape Republic City after a car chase with police and Zaheer, who proves capable of entering the spirit world, ascertains the Avatar's whereabouts.

#the legend of korra #tlok #tlok best episode

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naamahdarling · 2 years

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I have this bullshit condition called PMLE ("sun rash") which is where my body has a histamine ("allergic" ) reaction to sunlight so I develop this itchy burny rash on my arms and the backs of my hands if I am in too much sun. LONG before I will burn. It's bullshit, and it's surprisingly common, especially in white people of northern European descent.

Here are my tips if you have just learned you have it and want some help. Mine is mild (still infuriating) so my advice may not help if yours is severe, IDK.

Other people feel free to add advice!

Sunscreen! Use SPF 30% or 50% and reapply often. I sometimes have to use it just on longer car rides because the sun winds up falling over my arms.

Rubbing sunscreen over it can hurt, and the greasiness seems to irritate it, as does the vigorous washing needed to remove it. Spray sunscreen applies painlessly, and often washes off easier as it isn't as heavy.

Antihistamine gels like Benadryl help bring it down. I apply before bed, after a shower, and rinse gently in the morning to remove the light shiny film it leaves.

Cream/gel/spray pain relief helps. Cream is the most uncomfortable medium, spray is the least. Lidocaine or benzocaine are the most common, pramoxine is the next tier up, and dibucaine is THE SHIT if you can find it. It is super strong.

Hydrocortisone or another topical steroid often brings down the swelling a bit, if used regularly during a flare.

Dead serious but hemorrhoid products are a great source for both painkillers and steroids. You can get them separately, or a combination with both. They are cheap and OTC. Please don't use the same tube on your butthole and arms, though. Get a separate tube and mark it clearly.

These products can be found in all kinds of places at the store tho. Seriously, so many. Check the butthole section, the menstrual/vaginal health section ("for itching"), the sunburn section, the first aid section, the back and muscle pain relief section, and so on.

The pharmacist can be your friend and may know where to look for these products. Not always, some aren't helpful in big box stores, but if you are having trouble, ask.

Wash these things off with cold water after an hour if you don't want the residue on you. It can be an irritant.

Blue tape or electrical tape will cover the tube labeling if you hate looking at it. (I do not have "feminine itching", fuck off.)

Homeopathic remedies are useless and don't belong in pharmacies! Yet there they FUCKING are. Be vigilant, they are not always clearly marked.

Docs may recommend you use a moisturizing lotion but in my experience, no, bad, horrible, so bad, absolutely not, forget it. The problem is NOT driness, it actually makes things worse for me. Even sensitive skin stuff like CeraVe and Cetaphil may be irritants to you.

Hot water exacerbates histamine reactions of the skin. This is why doctors are always telling you to wash in lukewarm water. None of us wants to do that, it's joyless and dreadful, so I just flush my arms with cold water from the sink after a shower to help stop the reaction faster than on its own. Pat dry with a microfiber washcloth as regular towels can hurt.

Take your own condition seriously, and resist being pressured into an activity that will overexpose you to sun when you would rather sit it out. It's pretty common IME for people to not take PMLE tremendously seriously, which sucks. You are allowed to take action to prevent it, though, or decline completely if you don't want to deal with it.

Hope this helps!

#pmle

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girlactionfigure · 3 months

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*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

🔻ROCKETS & SUICIDE DRONES from Hezbollah - Lebanon, x3 - near border towns Gonen, Kfar Blum, Sir, Shomera, and others.

🔻ROCKETS from Hamas - Gaza, x2 - near Gaza towns Nachal Oz, Sderot, Nir Am and others.

▪️HEZBOLLAH ATTACK INJURES SOLDIERS.. one serious and two moderate from Hezbollah anti-tank missile strike from Lebanon.

▪️IDF TARGETED ASSASSINATION OF HEZBOLLAH.. drone strike on a car in Nabatia, Lebanon, killing 2. The Arab Network says a Hezbollah an area commander who helped build the Iranian air defense in Syria was targeted.

▪️GAZA - satellite maps (not included here) show 1/5 of Khan Yunis is now rubble.

▪️GAZA - IDF DESTROYS.. Palestinian channels: The IDF recently blew up a residential complex in the Qizan al-Najjar area in southern Khan Yunis. (( usually blowing up tunnels below, or destroying buildings that are used as military attack points ))

▪️RED SEA SHIPPING - Worlds largest shipping company Maersk: “The US Navy informed us they do not have the ability to guarantee safe passage in the Red Sea at this time.”

▪️RED SEA SHIPPING (2) - According to some reports in the Western media, shipping companies started hanging Putin's picture on their ships so that Ansar Allah (Houthis) will not attack them.

▪️HOUTHIS - FAKE SITES - The Houthis are showing on videos that they are setting up fake missile sites, with tin missile models and launchers, all painted and appearing eqiuvalent to the real thing - with the goal of fooling US satellites and drones to draw US attacks with no impact.

▪️US/UK ATTACKING YEMEN - Jets over several sites in Yemen, US claims to have destroyed missiles on the ground. (( Real ones? ))

▪️AID PROTESTS - overnight the aid protestors set up a tent camp to continue to block trucks from entering Kerem Shalom at all hours. Starting a short time ago the police began to forcefully remove the tents of the protestors.

▪️SAMARIA - SHECHEM COUNTER-TERROR - IDF forces operating in Shechem today.

▪️SAMARIA - QALQILYA COUNTER-TERROR - IDF forces operating in the Azon part of Qalqilya today.

▪️JUDEA - JERICHO COUNTER-TERROR - IDF forces operating in Jericho today.

▪️SHIA MILITIAS TO MOVE AGAINST U.S. BASES.. Iraqi sources: The Iranian Revolutionary Guards (IRGC) gave the green light to the militias of Al Shaabi and Al Najaba in Iraq to respond with heavy attacks on American bases, at the same time as the message that went out on their behalf to the US that they must immediately leave the territory of Iraq and Syria.

▪️IDF SHIFTING FORCES NORTH.. (N12) Division 36 recently fought against Hamas terrorists in the Gaza Strip, and has now been transferred to operational activity on the northern border. "We are after four months of fighting and we are not taking our foot off the gas," said the commander as the division was training prior to their move.

▪️ON CHANGES TO ARMY SERVICE… Minister Benny Gantz (war cabinet) on the conscription law: "On October 7th, masses of Israelis stood up and volunteered without asking questions. Among them were ultra-Orthodox who wanted to enlist in the IDF, helped the emergency organizations and saved lives in sacred service. Like them many from Arab society. The immediate security need requires us to increase the number of soldiers. In a long-term view, we are required to make historical corrections - a significant increase in the service of regular and reserve soldiers. Those who serve more must receive much more. And in the long term - an Israeli service law, which will also include ultra-Orthodox and Arab citizens in the circle of service. We must find a common way, which alone will make it possible to maintain the security of Israel and Israeli society.”

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Israel/Hamas War #Realtime Updates

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letsgofoletsgo · 11 months

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Pop The Question

The parks of Chicago were a scenic, tranquil place. In the middle of the urban sprawl, the lush sanctuary provided a space of serenity. In lieu of the ever-present hustle of city life, the soft breeze and eclectic chorus of birds replaced the cacophony of car horns and chatter present in the streets. A small pocket of quiet, a reminder of natural life within the urban jungle.

However, despite the park being unusually barren that particular night, the atmosphere would not be so still. The rip-roar of motor engines cut through the usual silence, racing through the heart of the park. Two cruisers rode along the stone path, one jet black and the other dark green. The bellows of the bikes flew over the fields, blades of grass whipping violently in their wake. Eventually, the two riders slowed as they turned a bend. To their right was a hill, an old elm adorning the top. Its leaves glistened under the setting sun, a golden sheen shining against deep green.

With a click of the clutch, the two steered onto the grass, nearing the base of the hill. Squeezing their brakes, they came to a stop. They cut their engines and tapped down their kickstands. The rider of the black cruiser dismounted, removing his helmet. Large, fluffy mouse ears spilled from the polymer, green specs glinting against the sunlight.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” The rider of the other bike spoke.

From xyr helmet, light green fur was revealed. Everest’s pointy, blue ears flopped as xe shook xyr head, xyr fur flowing in the fresh air. “You were right, its a ghost town out here.”

“See? I may not be a native Ev, but I know my way around chi-town well enough.” Throttle returned, subtle snark in his voice.

“That you do,” Everest chuckled, turning to the hill. “C’mon.”

Throttle followed, smiling behind xem. As the two crested the hill, they could see across the northern section of the park. Peaceful, grassy fields sprawled all around them, overlooked by the surrounding skyline. The centerpiece to the view was a lake, spanning about forty feet wide. The skyscrapers reflected in its calm ripples, mixing with the hues of the setting sun.

Everest sat down against the elm tree, sighing slightly. “Picked a nice day at least.”

“Yep, nice of Illinois to stop raining on us for a change, huh?”

“Indeed. Of course it rains buckets the day Limburger decides to launch a scheme of his.”

“I’ll admit, using rain to channel melted steel into the sewers was creative.”

“Not creative enough to succeed anyway.” Xe chided jokingly. “You think he’d come up with some better plans with how long he’s been at this.”

“Can’t say if the stink fish has any cognitive planning ability, but we’ll be here to put a stop to whatever he’s got up his sleeve.”

“Hey, it’s what we do.” Everest turned xyr gaze to the water as xe sighed “Gotta say though, I never expected to end up as a vigilante; especially on another planet.”

“What can I say, life comes at ya in unexpected ways.” Throttle shrugged.

“That’s certainly one way to put it. One minute I’m on Caynaris, living a normal life, then the next thing I know I’m a galaxy away.”

“Guess a change like that takes some getting used to.”

“Yeah.” Xe looked up to the sky. “Do… Do you ever miss Mars?”

Throttle’s tone turned solemn. “Of course I do. Everything I knew was there. Fought a war to defend it.” He tipped his head back, admiring the orangey sky. “But, I’ve found a lot of things to love on Earth. Found Chicago, Charley, people who accept us. And I found you.” He turned to xem.

Everest blushed. “When you put it like that, guess you’ve got a point.”

“Even the small things; like this lake for example. We don’t have large bodies of water on Mars, any water that’s not in the ice caps runs in underground veins. To the people of Earth, it's just a lake like any other, but it's kind of a wonder to me.”

Throttle then stood, starting to walk towards the lake. Everest rose quickly to follow him.

“I’m no brainiac, but I’ve learned to appreciate what makes ya happy, no matter your situation. Obviously it won’t solve all your problems, but they add up in the end.”

“I think that’s a very noble mindset to have.” Everest said. “You can’t control everything in your life, but you can choose to focus on what you love.”

Now standing at the edge of the lake, the two found themselves contemplating as they stared across the water.

“Though, if I’m honest, I’m most grateful that I met you.”

Xyr eyes widened. “Really?”

“That’s right. We both ended up on earth from less than favorable circumstances, but we made the best of it. You never let anything stop you, Ev. You’re one of the fiercest fighters I’ve ever seen, and can always find your way out of a tough spot. Even outside of battle, you don’t take shit and know what you want. You protect those you care about, and create a sense of stability. You’re just incredible overall, and I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

In a rare moment, Everest smiled sheepishly at his words. “Thank you, I’m flattered you think so highly of me.”

“‘Course. I would go on, but I do have a point to this.”

Xe raised a brow as Throttle cleared his throat.

“Everest, you’ve changed my life in so many ways. You’ve been there for me in my low points, and celebrated with me in my high points. No matter what’s been thrown at us, we’ve come out on top, together. I can’t predict the future, but I know I want you by my side when I turn to face it.”

He dropped to one knee, digging something out of his pocket. “Guess that leaves me with the question,”

He drew a small box from his pocket, and upon opening it, revealed a silver earring.

“Will you marry me?”

Everest stood in shock, mouth agape. Then, a smile spread across xyr face, tears welling as xe laughed.

“Yes.”

Throttle’s face lit up as he stood, wrapping his arms around xem and kissing xem deeply.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

“That makes two of us.” Xe giggled.

Throttle took the earring from the box. “On Mars, it's a tradition to propose with a silver earring. Figured I’d implement a part of my own culture, heh.”

Everest studied the earring, admiring it. “It’s beautiful, I love it.”

“Glad you do.” He raised his hand slightly, looking at xyr right ear. “May I?”

With a nod, Throttle gently clasped the earring onto xyr ear. After making sure it was secure, he stared in awe as it glinted in the sunlight.

“It looks perfect on you.”

Everest grinned widely as xe looked up at him. “I love you, Theno.”

“Love you too, Everest.”

The two kissed once again, fully engulfed in their happiness and the presence of each other. They remained in the embrace for what seemed like hours, time slowing as they basked in the moment. While neither wanted it to end, they both were excited to see what their future would hold,

Together.

#the stars as our highway

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