#for fewer than eight hours probably

[thebroccolination]

I used to humble-brag that I can spend over eight consecutive hours writing and forget to eat.

"That's really cool," said many people in the United States.

I felt good about this, so one day, I decided to impress my brand new therapist.

#the early months of therapy were great fun #especially because my therapist also has #adhd #hyperfocus: the one brain thing i appreciate most #on the other hand #when i got into stardew valley #it was almost physically painful to stop playing #especially since i was on vacation at the time and actually had multiple consecutive hours to commit #this is why i hardly play video games #i will end up one of Those Cautionary Tales #i texted my sister a line of thoughts once and she responded #'this has been a fascinating dive into the way your thoughts work' #anyway off to write #for fewer than eight hours probably #it's always difficult to tell really #sometimes i don't write all day and then i start at six and then it's two in the morning #i'll last as long as the pringles do

[andavs]

It seems like there's some common misconceptions about Eddie's time in the army, which is understandable because the show is very vague about it. And I think there’s still a bit of this outdated idea of the pregnant wife waving her handkerchief from the porch as her husband goes off to the front lines, and then he comes back years later to their six year old child he’s never met.

Which is very much not the case.

So some quick definitions: Enlistment is not the same as deployment.

Enlistment: The eight year contract during which a person is employed as a servicemember of the armed forces. The clock starts after basic training. The minimum is two years active duty, followed by six as a reservist. Four years active would be followed by four years as a reservist, six active would mean two in the reserves.

Deployment (tour): a time period where personnel are sent from the base where they’re stationed to a theater of operations (not always warzones). Most deployments in the US Army are about a year or less, with time at home between to decompress and reintegrate into everyday life.

Not everyone who enlists gets deployed or even leaves the US. Even fewer see combat. This depends entirely on what’s needed and also on units; individual soldiers don’t get deployed, their units do.

Now, Eddie.

The show tends to make it sound like Eddie was in Afghanistan for like five years straight, but he was not. There's a minimum period of time between deployments during which he would’ve been working regular hours at the base where he was stationed, presumably in El Paso. It’s possible he was stationed outside of Texas while Shannon stayed behind with his parents, but he’s never mentioned living anywhere else.

Eddie was enlisted active duty from at least 2011 (possibly 2010) until sometime in 2015 when he was injured and discharged. During that time period, he did "multiple" tours—the exact number is never said, but presumably more than two.

Eddie enlisted when they found out Shannon was pregnant. He went off to basic training (10 weeks) and then additional medic training (16 weeks) after that, and then he was deployed to Afghanistan for his first tour very shortly after. He was home on leave when Chris was born; Shannon said he was going back the following week.

After his first tour ended, he would’ve returned to his home base. If he was stationed at Fort Bliss in El Paso (again, he’s never mentioned living elsewhere), he would’ve been working fairly regular hours on base and going home to Shannon and Chris every night. 

The reenlistment argument is hard to pin down, timeline-wise. Eddie said he reenlisted at the end of a tour, and the argument we see says it was in 2015. That would mean Eddie signed up for four years of active duty and probably did two or three shorter tours in that time, but Chris doesn’t look like a three or four year old, and they have a different and much older kid playing him later that same year..

If it was supposed to be around 2013 and he only signed up for two years active duty, that would mean he probably did a couple shorter tours.

Reenlisting wouldn’t guarantee he’d be deployed again, but the uncertainty and not knowing how long he’d be home would put a ton of strain and stress on his family, especially with Chris having recently been diagnosed with CP. Long term planning is especially difficult.

He got deployed again in 2015, which is when the helicopter went down. I tend to think this was his third deployment, but it could’ve been his fourth. His welcome home party is three months after the crash, and Shannon seems to leave very shortly after.

#911 #911 abc #911 meta #eddie diaz

[galkyrie]

Jaytim arranged marriage? :3c

Tim wakes up in the most comfortable bed he's ever been in, feeling the most well-rested he has in months. It's the first sign that something is very, deeply wrong.

Something is wrong because last night he went to sleep in the batcave's medbay to the sound of a heart monitor, and the sheets around him are definitely not the sterilized hospital grade ones he'd internally griped about. 

He keeps his breathing even and continues to feign sleep as he tries to take in as much information for his surroundings as possible. One- most immediately notable, his side doesn't hurt- which narrowed down the list of abductors to ones with healing magic. Two- whatever fabric he was dressed in was easily the finest he'd ever touched- which definitely narrowed it down further. Three- he's pretty sure he wasn't drugged. His mouth isn't dry, his head doesn't hurt, and he certainly didn't feel any disconnect from his senses or body. So. Likely not drugged. And finally- probably most importantly- there was a source of warmth beside him. 

No- most importantly is that the source of that warmth definitely has arms, because they are wrapped around him. 

He takes a slow, deep breath. If he opens his eyes and sees green and gold he is going to freak out. Seriously. He'd been studying how to actually permanently kill the bastard, if this ever came to pass- and sure, he didn't have any weapons on him- but he was creative. And patient. And has no fewer than four friends who would launch his remains into space if he asks. 

He gathers his courage with this in mind and cracks open his eyes, immediately going lax at the sight of fine pink linens and ornately carved marble. The style alone is definitely not Ra's.

The person at his back makes a grumbling noise and he freezes again- right. Just because it wasn't Ra's didn't mean this was a good situation. 

Carefully, slowly, he shifts in place on the bed and takes a peek. 

Oh, it’s just Jason. He relaxes into the hold the sleeping man has on him, shifting to lie on his back. Jason looks young when he’s asleep, every sign of tension usually on his face melted away. Tim touches his jaw, lightly, tracing along the bone with his fingertips. He’s greeted with the fluttering of dark lashes and bright teal eyes opening to meet his. Jason tenses, too- then immediately relaxes when he recognizes him. 

“Tim?” He murmurs, sounding half asleep still. It doesn’t stop him from tugging him closer, his own hand raising to cup his cheek as he stares down at him. 

Tim simply hums in affirmation, going easily and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. It feels good- right, actually- the scrape of stubble against his lips electrifying. Jason tilts to bring their lips together, hand sliding around his back to slip into his hair. 

Some part of him recognizes, even as his lips open in a silent invitation, that this shouldn’t be happening. He was- right, he was in the infirmary because he got stabbed not forty eight hours ago- definitely not in what had to be the fanciest honeymoon suite in Vegas or wherever they were. 

Jason’s tongue flicks across his lower lip before his teeth press into the plush flesh, and Tim briefly forgets the larger issue with his last thought. Jason’s good at kissing- gentler than he would’ve thought, if he’d ever given it any before- 

Right.. Another issue with what was happening was that he hasn’t ever given this any thought.

They don’t know where they are. 

And he’s in bed with Jason fucking Todd. 

And he has no idea how that happened or how either of them ended up wherever this was. 

He pulls back, wrenching himself from his arms and rushing to get out of the bed with an urgency that’s got him tumbling off of the thing and landing on the cold marble floor, but-

“What the fuck?!”  

"I was gonna ask you that." Tim says as he scrambles to his feet, grabbing the fine sheet when he realizes he's totally naked- 

Which only makes it clear that it was mutual, oh god. He covers his eyes with his hand and hopes his face isn't turning the same color as the sheet he's clutching around himself. 

“Where the fuck are we?" Jason sounds as lost as he is, which- 

Okay, yeah. He knows Jason's not the kind of guy to kidnap anyone for this purpose, so. That makes sense. It also does not help him figure out what's going on. 

When he cracks an eye open, Jason has a pillow placed over his lap and is looking as embarrassed and confused as he feels. It makes it marginally easier to drop his hand and start to talk.

"Yep, and no, I don't remember how we got here or where here is-" and on that note, he turns to survey the room. "And I have no clue why I woke up being the little spoon." 

"Size disadvantage, probably." Jason immediately takes the bait. So- good, he's not freaking out too bad if he's still going for the low hanging fruit. Tim wishes he could say the same.

"Hilarious." Tim shoots back dryly before returning to look at the walls. Maybe there was some kind of clue he could find on the what and the who  of this whole mess- waking up with Jason holding him and immediately thinking it was fine to go in for a kiss has him wary of the why for the moment. 

It's all finely carved marble, immaculate to the point of gleaming. The entire chamber looks like it was carved by a single piece- the columns, the floor, the ceiling-

"Hmm," Tim murmurs, paying entirely too much attention to the features on the columns in the room around them as he hears Jason shift behind him. "These are Corinthian in style, but I've never seen it done so seamlessly." He reaches out, running a hand over the transition from column to floor and can't even feel a seam.

"Incredible." He breathes. He wishes he had a camera- Cassie might have more insight on this place. Dr. Sandsmark would probably kill to see a place like this in all its glory. 

"Still doesn't fuckin' explain why we woke up naked together in a bed-" 

"Yeah, see, I'm trying to go for the possible part to solve, here." Tim mutters, "like where to find clothes, if we somehow ended up on Themyscira or something without being murdered. How to get out." 

"Though," Tim adds before Jason can open his mouth to butt in, "pretty sure even Themyscira wasn't carved out of a single piece of marble." He stands up from his crouch and turns to look at Jason again. The man has grabbed the bottom sheet and fashioned it around himself in a facsimile of a toga. 

"So, conclusion- you have no idea where we are." Jason sounds about as thrilled as he is by the prospect. 

"We have no idea where we are.” Tim corrects with a smile, “and there are no clothes set out and no immediately obvious doors. So." Tim sets out to fashion his own robe out of the sheet he had, noticing that Jason takes a turn to lift his gaze far and away from him as he does so. He appreciates the courtesy.

"You thinking magic?" Jason, once they are both as dressed as it was apparent they are going to be able to get, asks.

"Pretty high level stuff to even make this room, but- maybe? Come see if you recognize any of the inscriptions in here-" Tim waves him over to look at the intricately carved marble. 

"Huh," Jason scans the scenes carved around them- intricate battles and tender love scenes, violence and passion in equal measure. "This looks like it's from one of the epics. Haven't read that shit in years, but- this scene looks familiar." 

Tim blinks up at it and wishes, again, he'd listened better to either his parents' speculation about the classics or Cassie's wild stories about the pantheon she heard second and third hand from the Amazons. The woman is beautiful, chiton gown pulled up to her knees as she sits beside the bank of a river, holding a man in her arms. Her face is the picture of sorrow as she stares down at him during his last moments, if the blood seeping into the ground beside him the sculptor put in is any indication. 

"This is familiar." Tim agrees, eyes tracing the trail of blood as it gives way to blooms of wildflowers. Cassie was gonna give him so much shit for not knowing this. 

Or she would, if he ever told her about this. He has absolutely no intention of doing so.

He turns away, instead moving to inspect the bed. There were no seams there either, and the pedestal upon which that insanely comfortable mattress rested was also carved from the same source. 

It also has symbols carved into it, and one in particular had some things clicking in place for him. The pinks and reds that composed of the fine fabrics in the room- the gleaming white marble, polished and nearly pearlescent in the light, Corinthian style columns. the carved roses and seashells full of pearls-

"Aphrodite," he breathes, stepping back from the bed as if he'd discovered it was made of asbestos, "Jason- we woke up on an altar of Aphrodite." 

"Oh, shit. Then that's Adonis-" Jason snaps his fingers and points at the dying man carved into the wall, startling when the whole thing seems to split at a seam that definitely wasn't there and a woman walks in. 

"What are you two doing?" She doesn't waste time with niceties, the beautiful- and he's suspecting literal- goddess simply purses her perfect lips into a pout and stares at them. 

It hurts to look at her directly for too long, her beauty radiant in what might be a very literal sense. Her hair falls in a perfect cascade of waves and her eyes have the magnetism of a black hole- inevitable and endless. She is every inch the pure definition of beauty, turned up to a degree that simply made it undeniable that she was anything but a deity. 

Fear is not an improper response to being in her presence. Hopefully. Because Tim, well- this is scary. 

"You two awakened together upon the altar of Aphrodite- in my temple in Mount Olympus- and this is how you choose to use such a boon? Have the mortals gotten so blind to us as to have forgotten the meaning of our blessings?" She sounds disappointed and confused, and Tim very much wishes to fix that asap. How, is the question. Which- okay, he woke up naked on a bed with Jason Todd wrapped around him. He's pretty sure he knows the answer. How else is probably a better question.

Wasn't she supposed to be good at this? She's the goddess of love, right? How could she mess it up this much? 

"Uh," Tim says instead of any of that, shooting Jason a bewildered look. Were they supposed to wake up naked together and just go with it? "I'm so sorry, your Goddessness-" ugh, he really should've paid better attention when Cassie complained about the myriad and convoluted structure that was the pantheon and how they liked to be addressed- didn't they just turn people into swans when they angered them? Oh god- gods, whoops- between his and Jason's mouth they are definitely not getting out of here without one of them getting cursed. 

"But we're not lovers." Which feels ludicrous to even have to explain, much less to a literal goddess, but. This is apparently what his life has come to. He'll still take this over Ra's.

She shoots him an exasperated look, turning her gaze to Jason soon after. "I am aware of your history, mortals. As you seem to be- albeit somewhat- aware of mine." 

"Sure. But if you know ours then you've gotta know it's not a good history. No kinda foundation for whatever this is." Jason says, because apparently he can't stop being contrarian for one second to flatter a God that could curse them. Or- smite them, the right phrase was smite when done by a god, right?. 

They were totally gonna get smote. 

"New life blooms after the earth is scorched in flame, no matter how hot the fire." She answers easily, as if that solved everything. And- okay, she was a member of the pantheon, maybe it was that easy for them. Or maybe she couldn't admit when she made a mistake- she was a member of the pantheon, after all. 

"But it- it takes time and-" Tim realizes he's the one arguing now, looking at Jason instead of her with wide eyes. There is guilt there, on his face as he looks back at him and he has to turn his gaze back to the deity, her painful beauty less intense than the ache Jason's expression causes. "We haven't had nearly enough to be- to even be friends." 

In all honesty, he's pretty sure Jason still hates him. Sure, he'd slowly allowed the Bats to reach out without it ending literally explosively, but-

Jason avoided him pretty much all the time, and when they were forced together he was both prickly and quiet in a way he wasn't with the others. And look, Tim gets it- but he doesn't have to like that Jason still resents him for something he's not sorry for doing. It's the literal definition of an impasse. And a terrible foundation for much of anything beyond a begrudgingly allyship. 

"My husband is the god of war, I know how close mere passion and true love lie in the hearts of men." She waves her hand dismissively, "what you both feel for one another is certainly not neutrality, nor is it as far from love as you may believe." 

"So what?" Jason says with a glare, apparently eager to step into first place running for being smote. "You did this because you see potential here? Where does what we want factor into this?" 

It doesn't hurt, the acknowledgement that Jason would literally rather taunt a god into finding out what her specific brand of wrath looks like than even think of this as possible. Tim happens to share the sentiment, so it'd be really dumb to get his feelings hurt over the idea. 

Aphrodite regards Jason with an arched brow, somehow both radiating amusement and annoyance in the silent gesture. 

"You're being cruel, sister. That's my job." A thin woman interrupts as she saunters in the room, body wrapped in tight, tattered black fabric and head shaved. She's heavily ringed her eyes in kohl and is wearing an eternal smirk. 

Tim does recognize her almost immediately- the sheer amount of weird plots she's been linked to made it impossible not to. 

"Eris." He acknowledges with a neutral expression.  They were so, so, so utterly screwed. 

She sends him a grin that looks almost entirely like a sneer. "Dear sister, don't you think you should tell them why you believe in them so fiercely?" Eris continues as if he hadn't addressed her, looking over at her sister with that same smirk. 

"You know, Eris-" Aphrodite starts, looking between both of them with a slowly growing smile, "now that I've seen them together, I think this is going to be easier than you thought." 

Eris scowled, waving her hand between them to illustrate her point. "They woke up and immediately tried to escape this as if it were a trap. You're going to lose, sister. Best you accept it now." 

"I suppose we will see," Aphrodite answers easily, "much can change in a month, sister. You of all people should understand that." 

Tim balks, "lose?" He looks between the three entities in the room, horror dawning on his face. "Is this some game?" 

"Wait- and what's at the end of the month?" Jason pipes up as well, suspicion lining his features. 

"Why, your wedding, of course." Aphrodite answers. 

"Our-" Jason begins to sputter, eyes widening to saucers. Tim steps back, sitting heavily on the impossibly comfortable bed. 

"Yes," Aphrodite interrupts, looking between the both of them with a sternness her features have a difficult time pulling off. "I have not blessed a pair of mortals in quite some time, and we will celebrate the success of your anointed love in one month's time with the assembled gods of Mount Olympus-" 

"-or watch my dear sister crash and burn," Eris chimes in with a slightly manic glee, "and have to admit some things are impossible even to her." 

"-or I will be displeased with my chosen mortals." Aphrodite finishes the threat with a winning smile, gliding over Eris' interruption with ease. 

"So- let me get this straight," Jason starts, fingers rubbing at his temples as he does, "you abducted us, put us here together, and have chosen us for one another- to prove you can make even people who hate each other fall in love-" 

"-in a month's time-" Tim adds, resisting the urge to flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling until his bones crumble to dust. 

"-after which we will be kidnapped again to get married-" 

"-if you can truthfully say you love one another." Eris added, sing-songy tone clearly indicating her thoughts on the odds of that happening, "those are the terms." 

"What if we can't?" Tim asks- blurts, really- because this was absolutely insane. He couldn't- with Jason in a month? 

"Then Eris will have six months to affect my domain without my interference." Aphrodite admits, staring hard at the both of them. 

Calling a god an idiot would be a mistake- Tim knows this, that these powerful beings are as temperamental as any human who grows up rarely hearing the word no, but- 

God, they were totally gonna lose. They were gonna lose and their entire world was going to be thrown into romantic chaos akin to what they were currently dealing with. 

"You've gotta be fuckin-" 

"-what do you get if you win?" Tim interrupts, shooting Jason what is probably a panicked look. 

"Eris must remove herself and her influence from the earthly plane for a year." Aphrodite grins, "her price for getting to choose the mortals I must bestow this gift upon." 

A year without strife. Huh. Tim looks Jason's way, who's fallen silent with a huge scowl on his features. 

Tim opens his mouth. Closes it. Sighs. He doesn't really know what to say, honestly. It's rare that there isn't something coming to him to say, even if it's incredibly stupid and deserves to stay in his brain where it belongs. 

"We will leave you two alone to discuss," Eris says, looping her arm around her sister's with the most smug grin. 

"You will be here until someone on your plane notices your absence," Aphrodite says, as if she's being gracious for roping them into this whole thing over ego. 

They leave as swiftly as they came, the room sealing itself off and the marble smoothing out any trace of their passage. 

Tim crawls into the bed, and, upon reaching a pillow, covers his face and screams into it. 

What the fuck were they supposed to do, now? 

#galkyrie writes #jaytim fanfic #prompt response #jaytim

[illumeew]

wits' end | k.alberich (chapter two)

Summary: Kaeya was never in love, but he could admit he felt loved.

Tags: Mentions of flings and romance, Slight angst, Hurt/Comfort, Is this a bit ooc? (please tell me if it is or not!)

A/N: ohhh i love kaeya so much he's so sweet and cool !! but sometimes he gets a lil mischaracterized, so i hope i've done him some justice in this one !

< chapter one | chapter three >

“There are two types of ‘tired’, I suppose. One is a dire need of sleep, the other is a dire need of peace. He needed both.”

Kaeya was never in love, but he could admit he felt loved.

No, it wasn’t romantic—he has never exploited the title of being the renowned candidate for grandson-in-law to most of the elders roundabout in Mondstadt, who experienced his selfless determination to protect the city and the nation whole.

To Kaeya, the concept of love has never been an easy topic. Love is complicated, similar to attempting to sit on your own shoulders: you can try, but it’ll leave you hurting and confused wondering why it didn’t work.

“Flings” were another thing he couldn’t understand, but whatever meaning it stood as, it most definitely wasn’t a category in Kaeya Alberich’s dictionary. One thing’s for sure that he’s received enough “complementary hugs” from the people of Mondstadt to know how it feels to be within love’s reach.

Though, despite the number of praise he gets on the daily, never was he once content encaptured in another’s arms.

To Kaeya,

Love is complicated.

Love is an anomaly.

Love is… something someone like him will never understand.

But he tries to be the right person and change, which is why he pays and leaves Angel’s Share as soon as he finishes his drink, the range of how many being between four to even less than two, unlike his past indulgences.

He wanted to become better, knowing a world like this wouldn’t accept and love someone like him. A sinner who has the world against himself.

Tonight, he had two different drinks, both without a single ounce of alcohol mixed into it. This has been a daily thing that servers, Charles and Diluc, would experience with the Cavalry Captain.

At seven-forty-five in the morning, quarter to eight—the usual time for the Knights to come to work—Kaeya enters Angel’s Share and asks for one Moonlit Alley: a mixture of coffee, milk, and cocoa paste. “Just something to get himself ready for a new day” is what he says to the current server of the bar, whether it be Charles or Diluc, to tell him of another day’s order of the same drink.

Both of them probably had it memorized by hand due to his consistency, because recently, as soon as Kaeya enters, the drink has been already made and set out on the counter, still hot and fresh, as if just finished and waiting for his arrival.

He’d reach for his wallet, grab the needed mora, give it to the server, then walk out taking a small sip of the drink before heading for the Knights of Favonius headquarters.

His schedule cycled every single day; wake up, get ready, grab a Moonlit Alley, go to work, then go back home, and restart.

At one point in his life—or maybe not just one point but a few, he felt lonely doing it all by himself. To tell the truth, he has no one to come home to, so how could he change his life? Someone can’t just walk in and tell him with all their honest joy, “Welcome home, Kaeya.”

Though, he wished he had someone to greet him by the door. Anyone.

He sighed and dropped the feathered pen, letting it roll across the papers scattered in front of him as his elbows slammed gently onto his desk, and he let his fingers run through his already tousled hair from how many times he’s done this. It was thirty minutes before midnight, and the pile of paperwork didn’t seem to look any fewer than it was four hours ago.

The Acting Grandmaster and the Librarian, Jean Gunnhildr and Lisa Minci, just clocked out just from the sound of the Mondstadt Library doors clicking shut, following suit by multiple footsteps that, Kaeya assumed, belonged to the two and the knights that guarded the doors to the library. His office was just above the library, and hearing the main doors close made him want to have agreed to Jean’s request to clock out with her and Lisa.

His stubbornness outweighs his sense of self.

Outrider Amber and Eula Lawrence ended their shifts an hour before they did, as did Chief Alchemist Albedo an hour earlier than them, rambling on about to himself how he has his own research to finish back at his camp in Dragonspine. He came to pick up Klee just before and walked her to the house her mother, Alice, had rented for her. He waited for her to sleep, which took a whole three hours, and then he went to the snowy mountain after tucking her to bed and kissing her good night.

He told her, “Another day has yet to come, for both you and me” as he stared at her sleeping form like she was the younger sister he could have ever wished for. That was something Kaeya only ever experienced when he was a kid, when his father would tuck him and his brother into bed, whisper the great things they’d done today, and kiss their foreheads good night before, too, tucking himself into his own bed a room across theirs.

The memories of whatever it was he felt genuine love was lost in time.

He grabbed each of the scattered paper and brought them together, grounding them on the table before setting them aside. He put the feathered pen on top of the stack, and deciding that he was too exhausted to even lift another finger, he crossed his arms on his desk and laid his head on top, and he sighed.

Though the large window behind him had curtains to shade him from the moonlight, he could still feel the wind blowing strands of his hair onto his eyepatch. But with the black cloth obscuring his right eye’s vision, he had no problem with the wind’s disturbance to the odious side of his two-faced artifice.

He soon drifted asleep, just without the praising whispers and kisses good night.

#genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin scenarios #genshin kaeya #kaeya headcanons #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya imagines #fiction #illumeew's works #genshin #writing #writers on tumblr

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Your turn, Captain Hands: 🌄, 👀, 🧸

Dude.

You know I am super fucking indecisive and you are gonna make me choose *a* favorite scene in BL?!

ONE?!?!

When there's every crying scene in The Eclipse? When there is the Alan, Wen, Jim fight scene or the Heart confrontation scene in Moonlight Chicken, when there is the four minute continuous shot in Old Fashioned Cupcake, or the eight minute continuous shot in My Tooth, Your Love?! When there is the Bad Buddy rooftop scene, and the He's Coming to Me rooftop scene? When there is fight scene after fight scene in 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us? The gay boy cuddle pile in I Promised You The Moon? When there's the "i'm hungry" scene in KinnPorsche? The cigarette kiss in Only Friends, the "I know you're hurting" scene or the "are you half-assing the homosexual lifestyle?" scene in What Did You Eat Yesterday? When there is the Christmas episode of Our Dining Table?

You want me...to pick...ONE?!

Fine.

🌄

Favorite Scene in a BL

I Told Sunset About You, Episode 3. The smelling scene, (I am assuming like the other one that this gif is misattributed to Nini and is actually from @liyazaki)

This scene short-circuited my brain, changed my DNA, altered me at a cellular level. You got my messages about this scene, Benjamin. You know it made me tear at the curtains and eat the wallpaper. You know I spent hours just staring up at the ceiling. I watched this scene four times in a row and cried every time. I was transfixed. I barely breathed. The power, the magnetism, the pull. The way the tension builds, the lack of music, silence only interrupted by the sound of their breathing. The promised of how this could have progressed, if Teh didn't feel for breasts that weren't there. If Teh didn't slam a door down on his desire. You know I eat that shit for breakfast, that type of internal fight. That fight against what you want, what you need, what you crave. Teh can't accept quite yet what his feelings for Oh are, even as he is so clearly intrigued, drunk on Oh's scent, in love. Talk about power.

👀

What do you think about love triangles in BLs?

I think to be a love-triangle there has to be a level of uncertainty as to who the main character is going to end up with. As such, I think there are honestly very few love triangles in BL, and even fewer that are well executed. I think the majority of "love triangles" I see in BLs tend to be unrequited loves rather than a love triangle. I feel like usually the main couple is never really interested in the side character that is pursuing them. I think I can probably count on one hand the number of actual love triangles in BL.

Oh, Bas, Teh

Neo, Miw, Shin

Tony, Jean, Kat

and let me throw in a non-traditional one: Wang, Sawsimol, and Inthawut.

While I do think that Bas is kind of a victim of the narrative, and I didn't see a relationship between Bas and Oh going anywhere, based very much on how much Teh and Oh were both drawn to each other and capable of hurting each other. But Oh tried it, and I think Oh would have continued to try with Bas for quite some time.

Tony, Jean, and Kat was not a love triangle I particularly cared about, but I appreciated that there was just a casual inclusion of a character being attracted to multiple people, and engaging in physical intimacy with both people, having that attraction be confirmed by both people but still being rejected by Jean and then pursuing Kat.

I think Jojo knows what the fuck he is doing with love triangles #neohastwohands

🧸

Friends to Lovers or Enemies to Lovers?

Enemies to lovers all day, every day.

It's about the sexual tension! It's about the endless pursuit of one another! It's about the emotional complexity! It's about being doomed by the narrative, or rebelling against the narrative, or being changed for the better or the worse! It's about the seeing the worst parts, the broken parts, the angry, and hurt, and monstrous parts of people and loving them anyway. Enemies to lovers feels so queer to me, in the same way that loving Halloween feels so queer to me, in the same way that stories about monsters feels queer to me. It's something about being seen as inherently bad, irredeemable, villainous, or sinful, and being gifted love despite.

BL ask box game

#ask game #bl ask game #i told sunset about you #3wbf #kinnporsche #what did you eat yesterday #my tooth your love #itsay #180 degree longitude passes through us #the eclipse #moonlight chicken #our dining table

[silli---lilli]

Good Woman

Captain John Price x Female OC

Old habits die hard.

The captain is back on base with a woman from his past, and they seek comfort from each other after a tough loss.

CW: Smut, Language

Arabella Sloane had tossed and turned a lot that night, uncomfortable with the silence entombing the base. Almost everyone was out, believing they could finally intercept a weapon’s drop a few hours away. They had a forty-eight hour window to intercept and it had already started. They weren’t planning on a return to base until the day after.

She had been a medic for special forces for a while, seen some truly horrible things, and the anticipation of a conflict like this kept her up. If it went wrong, it was a lot of hand to hand, a lot of close range gunfire. A lot for two medics to handle. She had real quarters, she had paid a lot of dues, but her second slept in the infirmary most nights, always on call.

She tossed and turned for other reasons, too. Before this deployment, she had been sleeping better, handling her PTSD, but since she had arrived in Urzikstan, the nightmares were back. She usually felt comfortable having a drink or taking something to help her sleep but not that night. She had a feeling she needed to be alert.

She was right.

She rolled over onto her back, holding her breath to listen as a door somewhere slammed. She sat up when she heard voices.

She got out of bed and slid on pants, tucking her pistol into the waistband. One could never be too careful, not when they were fully off grid like this. It could have been anyone that slammed that door, and there were only a few left on the base. Protecting them was her duty.

She cracked her door, listening. She could hear hushed voices in the common area down the hall. They were conversational, some were familiar. One in particular.

She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and walked out.

In the common area stood a few men, much fewer than had left. Her heart dropped. If there had been any serious injuries, she would have been paged. That likely meant there were families to notify. James, the other medic was nowhere to be found, and maybe he needed help. From the shadows, she laid eyes on British operative Kyle Garrick, her commanding officer Alex Keller on the phone with someone, Laswell she guessed, and Captain John Price. He stood with his hand on the shoulder of Farrah, the leader that Alex was aiding, offering her some kind of comfort she guessed, by the way the woman nodded and looked down.

He looked up, turning to meet Arabella’s eyes. She dipped her chin as a hello, and turned to make her way to the infirmary but Price held up his hand, motioning for her to wait. So she did, at attention as he said something else to Farrah, she nodded, and he walked to meet her.

“Sloane.” He greeted her. He looked tired.

“Price.” She stepped closer to him as they walked, making sure he was alright.

He seemed fine. “Sorry to wake you.”

“What happened?” She asked, unsure if he could even tell her.

He slowed and she stopped beside him. She could see the infirmary door at the end of the hall.

“Their scouts caught us.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “A sniper took out Farrah’s guards so we retreated.” He nodded to the bright fluorescents beckoning her up ahead. “They probably won’t need you. A few cuts and scratches.”

She looked him up and down for any cuts and scratches she might have missed. “I should still make sure James is alright.” He nodded. “Are you alright?”

That small smile that she liked so much appeared, just to be dampened by stress and sadness. “I’m alright.” He stepped a little closer. He smelled like sweat and dirt. She breathed him in. “Where can I find you?”

She acted like the question didn’t affect her. Like he didn’t affect her. “I’ll go back to my room.”

He nodded once, his eyes lingering on hers for a second longer than the meeting called for, and made his way back down the hall.

--

Price had been right, she hadn’t been needed. Her second, also a US Army medic, was cleaning up when she entered. He waved her off, told her to go back to bed. She offered him a thank you, despite knowing she wouldn’t be sleeping.

Her heart went out to the nationals they were assisting, knowing it was Alex’s intention that this kind of thing didn’t happen. But this kind of thing did happen, plenty, that’s why they were there. To keep this kind of death from spreading.

It was a short walk back to her room and she stood by her bed, wondering whether she should undress. She was interrupted by booted feet outside her door and a soft knock. She smiled to herself. He always knocked, as if she would ever deny him.

She opened the door. He stood in the dark hall, leaning against the door frame, but without his usual swagger. He just seemed worn.

“How long has it been since you slept?” She asked softly, fisting the front of his t-shirt and pulling him inside.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, letting the door close behind him. She laid her head against his chest.

His hand landed on the gun still tucked into the back of her pants. “Planning on some action, Sloane?”

“Always be prepared, Captain.”

“Good woman.” He said in a very captain-like voice. But the way he pulled it out, released the clip, and laid it on her bedside table was just John.

“You look rather prepared yourself.” She stated, nodding to his booted feet and stepping past him to slip out of her own shoes.

They had known each other a long time, having worked together on her first joint task force mission ever nearly a decade ago. He had been more seasoned and quite a rugged young man back then. She had been entirely infatuated by him but mostly invisible until he took a knife to the leg at the very end of the mission.

He had called her a few months later to tell her what a beautiful job she’d done, that he barely had a scar to speak of. Strange, that he had happened to call her while he was in DC for a meeting, across town from where she lived. It had been a long, sleepy weekend, with lots of red wine and takeout. They had learned each other. Connected. But it hadn’t carried forward, across oceans and jobs and years of having to focus elsewhere.

They had stayed in touch, sure, emails, happy birthdays, and a handful of clandestine meetings if they happened to end up on the same continent with any spare time to speak of. Far too few, in her opinion.

So it wasn’t new, the immediate physical need, the easy closeness. When she had found out he would be joining their mission, she had been full to the brim of mixed emotions. Maybe it was finally time for them to act on whatever it was, or maybe it would see them fully separated. It was a climax of sorts.

 These nights weren’t so clandestine. Or climactic. They had slept in the same bed a few times since he arrived a couple of weeks prior but always like this, middle of the night, he returns from some outing and seeks her warmth beside him, too tired to do much else.

He bent and unlaced his boots. “Don’t know when they’ll call me back out.”

She nodded. “I know.”

She hadn’t turned on a light, which was fine, she couldn’t see how his eyes followed every move she made. He had known he was in deep shit the first time he saw her, long before he let her know that he noticed her and that tight blond bun and big, blue eyes. He had aged since then, he was far from the scrappy dark headed soldier he had been, but she looked the same. Except for her eyes, they had obviously seen enough since then to darken them a bit, keep them more serious and unreadable. Maybe that was her draw, that she was a perfect mystery, hardened by delivering hard news and keeping dying men calm. He couldn’t read her except when she let her mask fall, like she had when he walked in.

“I had a bad feeling this time, when you left.” She said, her voice quiet. Like she was nervous to reveal it.

“Why’s that?” He kept his just as gentle.

She unbuckled her belt and let her pants pool at her feet. He stayed rooted in his spot, fighting the urge to mark those thighs as his own. He would, after he heard her out. That’s what he needed really, her voice and logical thoughts, they always calmed him.

“I don’t know, really.” She shook her head. “I just did. And I don’t like the thought of you not coming back.”

He went to where she stood then, slipping his hands under the hem of her shirt and resting them on her waist. “I have a perfect track record.”

She looked up to argue, but found his hand gripping her chin and pulling her into a kiss, muffling the words. He tasted clean, a hint of whatever he had smoked since they last spoke sweet across her tongue. Familiar and intoxicating. And he smelled clean too, freshly showered, in clean clothes and she didn’t care if he never left again. And she didn’t care if they fucked or not. His warmth could just melt her into the floor beneath her feet and she could stay there, content.

He had a good bit of height on her, but not too much for her to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. Down to her level.

“Do you know how much I missed you?” He pulled away just far enough to speak.

She knew he didn’t mean since he left three days ago. He meant since last time they had seen each other, years ago. They hadn’t had much chance to talk. She guessed they weren’t about to do it now.

“Tell me.” She whispered against his cheek, enjoying the way his beard felt against her face. She kissed her way down his neck to the collar of his shirt.

His hands gripped her, pulling her closer, pressing his body against hers. She let out a sharp breath at the feeling of him. She needed to set him free, feel him for real. It had been far too long. He pushed her backward, her legs hit the edge of the bed and she sat, reaching for his belt. He let her, pulling his shirt off over his head. She unzipped his pants but before she could reach his cock, he pushed her back by her shoulders. She let out a little noise of protest that made him grin.

“Stop it.” He said. “I’m trying to tell you something, remember?”

He still stood, straddling her legs where they hung off the bed. He pushed her shirt up over her breasts, almost absentmindedly, frowning at the bra that still stood in his way. He slid his arm beneath her lower back, arching it upward so he could kiss a burning line from her navel to her sternum.

“I missed you, Belle.” The nickname was sweet in her ears. Intimate.

He looked up at her, sliding his arm behind her shoulders and lifting her further onto the bed so he could hover over her. The way his tags brushed against her flushed skin when he moved sent a chill down her spine, it ended white hot, pooling beneath her stomach. He kissed her again from there and she was patient, running her hands slowly across his broad chest. After a moment, he reached for one of her hands and guided it back to his open zipper. She slipped her hand into his pants, cupping him over his boxers. She squeezed suddenly and he gave her the slightest moan.

She took the break in his control to pull her hand from him and twist out from beneath him. He let her, lying beneath her as she straddled his hips, grinding against his still restrained erection.

“I missed you, too.” She kissed his neck again, and along his collar bone. “John.”

He reached up and pulled the elastic from around her ponytail, fisting her now free hair and pulling her back to his lips. She tasted like every good memory they had ever made, just with less wine. He wished they had a bottle. Something she would really like, something to warm her up.

Hands still in her hair, he rolled them over again, laying his weight against her this time. She wrapped one leg around him, holding him close. They kissed slower, sweeter, at least for a moment. He was always sweet, always a giver, always more than she felt she deserved. It was no different now, as he pulled her shirt the rest of the way off and unclasped the plain bra she wore. Discarding it. Wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, keeping his mouth on hers as he ran his thumb over one painfully hard nipple, forcing her to release a sharp breath into his mouth. It made him smile again.

He left to kiss her back down the middle of her chest, over her dog tags, back to her navel where he had started. She kept still. He pushed back and gripped those pretty legs, digging his fingers in and spreading them open to kiss from the inside of her knee to her soft inner thigh, marking it like he had vowed to before.

She flexed beneath his hands, moving to get closer, to lessen the space between them. She had taken other lovers in the years since they’d met. So had he. Short lived relationships, pulled taught by long, undercover missions and trauma induced exhaustion. An inability to slow down, to settle. Few wanted that.

This was more their speed, on the edge of danger, one taking lives and the other fighting to save them. A perfect dichotomy, complimentary horrors. And somewhere in the middle of it, a sweet release. A different dichotomy, like his teeth sunk into her skin followed by a gentle kiss. Her nails dug into his bicep just before tenderly brushing his hair back from his forehead as he looked up to catch her eyes. It was dark, but they were easy to find, glinting in what little light they had.

He held her gaze, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties and peeling them off slowly, her raising her hips to let him. He liked to go slow and it drove her crazy. He would kiss and tease and play until she begged for him. That’s what he liked.

She hadn’t been with anyone in a while. Sex had exited her self-care itemized list a long time ago, becoming something she could sometimes accept versus something she sought. She was lonely and too old to ignore the fakeness of hookups and play-toys. And that meant that this had her soaking wet already, knowing it would take close to nothing to push her over the edge. Knowing she had been wanting and waiting for him specifically for days.

John settled onto his stomach, slowly sliding one arm under her leg and wrapping it to rest his hand on her hip. He could lay there a long time, well aware that he wouldn’t last long if he took to her too fast. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, casually laying a hand over her chest as it rose and fell rather fast.

That was the Arabella he was looking for. A little undone, bent to his will. She was always so perfectly put together; he was constantly dying to see her like this.

He put two fingers in his mouth, wetting them, although from what he could tell, it wasn’t really necessary. He pushed them against her pussy and spread it slightly, testing her. Her leg tensed against his shoulder and he held it still, holding her open and pressing his tongue flat against her wet skin. Her hand went from her chest to her eyes, a perfect command for him to keep going.

He ran his tongue slowly up the length of her, landing on her clit. He closed his lips in a kiss and she squirmed. She tasted warm and so full of life and he knew he had total control of her in that moment. He wet the same two fingers again and carefully inserted them. It definitely wasn’t necessary that time.

“Mm, so wet, Arabella.”

“John.” She pressed her hand harder over her eyes.

He kept both fingers inside of her, turning them so he could run his thumb over her clit. She bucked against him at the contact, tightening.

“You want to cum for me?” His voice was low and full of heat. She felt she might melt again.

“Yeah.” Her voice wasn’t a voice, just a breath.

He kissed her again, right where she wanted it, his beard rough against her sensitive skin. “Already, huh?”

The smile she heard in his voice as he immediately pressed his tongue against her nearly did her in.

“Fuck.” She said under her breath.

He let his tongue play slowly across her sensitive clit, slowly moving his fingers in and out of her until she was loose again. Malleable, putty in his hands. He tightened his grip on the thigh he held, digging his hand into her soft skin, thrusting his fingers deep and curling them upward. He ran his teeth lightly over her before closing his lips and sucking.

Her hand went from her eyes to her mouth, just as tight as she bucked her hips against him again. It was over embarrassingly fast, release slamming into her like the touch-starved workaholic that she was. But her hand remained over her mouth stifling quiet moans. He held her through it, slowly pulling away from her and cleaning his hand with his tongue like a fucking animal. Or maybe she was the animal, she felt inclined to climb him like a fucking tree after that.

He was on top of her in a second, not allowing her to move as he crawled to kiss her, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He kissed her lips and cheeks and jaw and eyelids before he leaned to whisper in her ear.

“Someday I’ll make you scream my name.”

“Get inside me.” She demanded, gripping him by the back of the neck and kissing him again. “Right now.”

He had rarely been one to disobey orders. He raised up onto his knees, pulling his pants down past his hips, letting her watch as he pulled himself free. He was a large man. Every bit of him. The way he ran his hand from base to tip once before bending back over him was lewd and confident, and for a brief second she was upset that she couldn’t lick that bead of precum off the tip herself. But that would mean she would have to move, and she wasn’t about to give up the feeling of him staring down at her, pushing her legs open again as he slowly pushed into her body.

He paused, letting her adjust, and she took the moment to run her hand down his abs, over the soft hair just below them. He was all man, and she had never quite lost that schoolgirl crush he had left her with all those years ago. He was perfect.

And she, she was like heaven. Like Cinderella’s slipper. No one on earth fit him better, felt better. She was made for him. He pushed a little further, leaning forward and bracing his hands beside her. He moved in and out slowly a few times, coming to accept that he had very little left in him. Belle laid her hand over his on the mattress, drawing his eyes back to her face. He leaned to kiss her and it was tender this time, not demanding. It expressed what she had said when he walked in, that she didn’t like the thought of him not coming back.

He kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he fucked her slowly, hoping that she understood what it meant. That he would always come back. That he had no intention of leaving her like that. She hooked her leg around his, pushing him deeper. He picked up his pace, pulling back to look at her face as he pulled out, finishing against her stomach, between their bodies.

He let out a long sigh, going slack against her for a moment before standing. He didn’t need a light to find the towel hanging by her shower, pulling it off the hook and standing beside the bed as he gently wiped her clean. He dropped it on the floor. She moved to make space for him beside her.

He slipped his arm under her shoulder, pulling her close. “You’re perfect.”

“I missed you, John. I really did.” She placed her hand over his heart. She wasn’t used to his praise, she was glad he couldn’t see her flushed face.

“I hoped you might.”

They lay in silence for a while. She broke it when she saw him blink, still awake. “Why didn’t we run off together? After Russia.”

“Hmm.” He squeezed her arm. “You had to take care of your mom, I think.”

He was right. That was all she had known back then. Her dying mother had been the only thing she could focus on. He had called her after the funeral, from a base somewhere in southeast Asia, before dawn, his time, to apologize for missing it. She hadn’t resented his absence, not at all, but she had needed him. She had needed someone.

“I suppose you’re right.” She kept her voice light. No need to dig at that scar.

“What about now? Not too late to run off now.” He sounded so tired.

“You need to sleep, Captain.” She ignored his flirting. While they were there, there was no outside world. They had to focus.

“I’d rather not face tomorrow.” The thought that anything could weigh so heavily on a man like him made her heart ache.

She reached her hand to cradle his face. “You won’t be alone.”

He took her hand, kissed her palm, and laid it back against his chest where she could feel his breathing slow and even out as he finally rested.

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw #cod modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #cod oc #task force 141 #captain price #john price #oc #ocs #one shot

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Guys. Guys. You’re not going to believe this. And I am honestly, so sorry. Anyone who found it strange and annoying that I filled up this website with a sudden focus on some shit that happened to a very specific group of comedians in the early 2000s and something about a cow, but then I found the answer to my question about what the name “Chocolate Milk Gang” meant so they were hoping I’d move on, and then just last night I finished going through the last of all the Daniel Kitson material I could possibly find online, so after that surely I would have to stop. I thought this had run its course and I could get back to other things. But you’re going to believe this. There’s another video.

Actually there are several other videos. A YouTube channel that is clearly just run by someone who went to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and filmed bits of the Late ‘n Live show and put them up online, and hasn’t posted a video in the last ten years, and don’t worry about how I found this. I was pretty deep in the rabbit hole, where I’d been for long enough so I thought I’d already found it all, but then I came across these YouTube videos.

Okay, so. To start with, here’s one from 2005. Early on it gave me cause to Google when Stephen K. Amos officially came out, which was apparently 2006, so the year after this. But... I guess was a bit of a glass closet situation for some time before that? Or just a coincidence. It was 2005, and everyone did spend that entire year calling each other gay at every single opportunity. They were bound to be right at some point.

The title made me think this would be a rap battle like Daniel Kitson did with David O’Doherty in that other video, and like I have reason to believe may have happened multiple times. But it turned out to be not that, and the “v” for “versus” in the title means something more literal. So... click on this one if you want to see Daniel Kitson summarize The Karate Kid and then literally beat up Stephen K. Amos, predicting the events of 21 Jump Street eight years before that movie came out. That was not the direction I thought that was going. It’s really funny to watch this fewer than 24 hours after watching his 2005 theatre show for the first time, which is in fact about a boy who is lonely and how there’s optimism in that loneliness. He’s completely correct about that. Correct about the subtext of The Karate Kid, too.

Also, the disembodied voice of Russell Howard comes in unexpectedly at 7:24, and it’s so close to the camera that for a split second I thought Russell must be the one recording it. Obviously he wasn’t, I guess he was just in the crowd and happened to be standing near the person with the camera? I’m not really clear on where he was. His laugh just comes through like a ghost in the walls. Tim Minchin, meanwhile, is visible the entire time as he provides music, off in the corner of the stage in the way that it feels like he always is in YouTube videos, even when he’s the main star of the video.

This isn’t at all important and it’s definitely not a sentence I thought I’d ever type, but that was genuinely good technique at the end there when Stephen K. Amos picked up Daniel Kitson and threw him on the ground. He knew how to do it properly. Good job dude.

I’m going to be honest, I haven’t even watched the other videos yet. Aside from the video before this, which is a guy I think I’ve sort of heard of singing a song in which he makes fun of Oasis while using a term that I would not use for Inuit people but 2005, right? I watched this far and then had to stop and write this post. There are a few more so this will probably get updated. Anyone who was looking forward to me calming down about what some chocolate milk people may have been doing in the 00s will have to wait slightly longer to have that stop being all over this website.

Edit: I just thought of something, ran it back, and confirmed that that was Mark Olver running out at 1:16. I would like to apologize for not noticing that right away; I’m normally quite good at the game “spot Mark Olver”, as I play it every time I watch The Last Leg.

[floridaboiler]

The CSS Alabama was the most successful and notorious of the Confederate commerce raiders. Built secretly in Liverpool England in 1862, the vessel was commissioned in August of that year, under the command of Captain Raphael Semmes. Semmes was a native of Maryland who was living in Mobile, Alabama when the war broke out. At the beginning of hostilities, he resigned his commission in the U.S. Navy and joined the Confederate navy. A few of his officers aboard the Alabama were Southerners, but the rest (and all the crew) were British volunteers. For two years the Alabama sailed across the globe, capturing or destroying 65 U.S. merchant ships and taking over 2,000 prisoners. In June 1864 Semmes sailed his ship into Cherbourg France, for much needed resupply and repairs. The USS Kearsarge had been pursuing and searching for the Alabama for months. Captain John Winslow, a North Carolina born Unionist, was delighted when he sailed the Kearsage into Cherbourg and finally found his elusive prey. Because France was neutral, he could not attack the Alabama in port. Instead, he sailed the Kearsarge out to the mouth of the harbor and dropped anchor, daring Semmes to come out and fight. After a few days of preparation, the Alabama hoisted her sails and headed out to the waiting Kearsarge, while hundreds of Cherbourg citizens lined the shore to watch the fight. To the probable dismay of the spectators, the fight was decidedly one-sided. The Alabama fired first, missing wildly, and continued to fire as rapidly as her guns could be loaded, as the two ships slowly sailed in a circle around each other. The Kearsarge gunners were much more deliberate, firing more slowly—and more accurately. Of the almost 400 shots fired by the Alabama, only two struck the Kearsarge and they did little damage. Meanwhile, the Kearsarge fired fewer than half that many shots, but the Alabama was riddled with shells and badly crippled. About an hour after the fight had begun, with his ship sinking, Semmes struck his flag and surrendered. After Captain Semmes and the surviving crew abandoned their sinking ship, a private British steam yacht raced in, picked up Semmes and 40 other survivors, and carried them off the England. Winslow was infuriated but resisted the temptation to fire on the yacht. Following his escape, Semmes made it back to the Confederacy, where he was promoted to admiral and given command of the flotilla on the James River. After the war he was a professor of philosophy and literature at Louisiana State University. He died in 1877 at age 67. Winslow’s victory made him a hero in the North and won him a promotion to Commodore. After the war he commanded the U.S. Pacific Squadron. He died in 1873 at age 61. The battle between the CSS Alabama and the USS Kearsarge occurred off Cherbourg France on June 19, 1864, one hundred fifty-eight years ago today. The painting is Edouard Manet’s “The Battle of the Kearsarge and the Alabama” (1864) which today hangs in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

#Civil War #CSS Alabama #uss kearsarge #June 19 #1864

[lionheartslowstart]

You Don’t Know

People always say things like “be kind, you don’t know what someone is going through.” It’s a great philosophy to live by. Yet, too often, I see people make assumptions about the lives of others, based on very little information, if any at all.

Unfortunately, it is something of which I have been on the receiving end many, many times.

I will not lie, there are parts of my life that are extremely blessed. I have a close-knit family, and I grew up pretty much wanting for nothing from a material standpoint. These are two big things that a LOT of people, especially neurodivergent people, don’t have. And please do not think for a single moment that I am not appreciative of those things. I am thankful every day, because my life could be a fuck ton worse.

Still, these very significant blessings do not mean I don’t have problems, and that those problems aren’t valid, or important. I currently have EIGHT diagnosed mental illnesses, accumulated over the course of about a decade. (A ninth is also suspected, but I’m refraining from discussing it further until a diagnosis is given, if one exists.) Life is very challenging for me in general, as I have a whole host of symptoms I have to deal with on an almost daily basis. As a result, day-to-day functioning can be difficult for me. On some days, normal life feels impossible.

I will not sit here and list all of my symptoms. Not just because it would take me several hours, for which I do not have the spoons, but also because I shouldn’t have to “prove” how neurodivergent I am.

Don’t get me wrong, the ways in which I am lucky alleviate a lot. If it weren’t for my family, I’d probably be homeless. I might not even be alive right now. I have said for years that, if this were the 1960′s, I would be living my life in an asylum. I stand by that assertion.

Most people have no idea what I deal with. Most people have no idea what the inside of my brain looks or feels like. Most people have no idea how much I struggle to connect with others, make friends, control my emotions, and mitigate my reactions. Most people have no idea how, more days than not, my mind feels like a dangerous place that I cannot escape from.

And most people probably never will, because fuck, am I good masking.

The masking, while it makes me feel safer and less vulnerable, only ever makes the situation worse. Because I’m so good at projecting stability, it’s all most people see. So from their perspective, their assumptions about my life are confirmed.

In short, people decide that I’m fine, based on certain aspects of my life. So when I complain about my mental health, or try to discuss the ways in which my life is difficult and painful, all they see is someone who has it pretty good whining about how bad they have it. And since I don’t fall to pieces in front of them, or reveal the most sensitive parts of my existence, those people feel justified in their resentment.

And that fucking sucks.

I have lost friends over this. I have had quite a handful of people in my life get “fed up” with me and walk out of it, because they think I’m just whining over nothing. Some of these “friends” actually made comments to me about having the “audacity” to “complain” about my life. I’ve also had acquaintances decide they’re no longer interested in getting to know me because of these kinds of assumptions. And of course, as a result of these experiences, I feel even more isolated and mistrustful, and so clam up even more! I let far fewer people in and keep most of my pain and suffering to myself, because my fears of rejection and judgment are continuously reinforced. How am I supposed to feel safe opening up to people when they don’t believe me?

Again, I am well aware that I am lucky in many ways. I am also unlucky in many ways. My life is far from perfect. In fact, I have tried to end it many times. And while I am in a much better place mentally, and have made no other attempts or have plans to do so, I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it.

Still, this isn’t a pity party. I’m not looking to garner sympathy, and I’m certainly not declaring that I have the worst life in existence. I guess I’m just trying to say, practice what you preach. Don’t say you can’t judge a book by its cover, or that you should treat people with kindness because you don’t know their story, and then turn around and make snap judgments based on snippets of information and your own biased assumptions. Being blessed in a few ways does not equal being blessed in every way. Anyone can struggle. Anyone can drag pain and trauma around with them. Anyone.

#personal #trauma #recovery #healing #mental health #mental illness #mentally ill #neurodiverse #neurodivergent #ptsd #post traumatic stress disorder #cptsd #complex ptsd #complex post traumatic stress disorder #bpd #borderline #borderline personality disorder #bipolar #bipolar disorder #anxiety

[broussardhald69]

Is Delta-8-THC Authorized?

Pre-stuffed delta 8 THC cartridges are among the most desired types of this cannabinoid. Cannabis plants have a number of “isomers” - a sure kind of molecule - with most often referring to the delta-9 THC. As a result of delta-8 THC has fewer psychoactive properties, it comes with a wider therapeutic window. Primarily you are adding complexity in results and flavors, including one other degree of intensity that both your tongue and physique are going to appreciate. Koi Delta 8 Gummies are devoted to high quality and transparency with their customers. Best Labs even has a subscribe and save program where you may get their products delivered monthly. The savings attain as excessive as 7.5% on bulk orders.

Keep in mind that if you choose the 2-pack choice, you can save 5% on your order, whereas for those who choose the three-pack possibility it can save you 7.5%. But when you’re just making an attempt out delta 8 THC products for the primary time, we advocate going for the one-pack, so you’re not caught with several carts that aren’t to your liking. Bush says Delta-8 affords a “quiet mind and relaxed body”-key elements for falling and staying asleep. How do delta 8 gummies make you are feeling? We love reading product evaluations, especially when folks find that a certain product relieves their anxiety, their PTSD symptoms, and helps them sleep higher by the night. These who're new to the world of cannabis have been inquisitive about the results of Delta 8 THC. You simply unscrew the cap from the bottle, fill the dropper to the desired quantity, squeeze the dropper under your tongue, after which hold it for about 60-90 seconds earlier than swallowing. Now, there are numerous tips about how to start out your delta-8 edibles journey.

The DELTA Pro is outfitted with Wi-Fi and Bluetooth choices to monitor its battery degree and consider and control numerous unit functions by way of your cellphone. Obtainable in virtually every state throughout the United States, BudPop’s delta-eight flower appears to be probably the most potent, tested, and pure cannabinoid pressure on the market. The Back-to-Normal Index created by CNN Business and Moody's Analytics fell back to 89% as of Sept. CBD oils could be flavorless or flavored, and if made right into a tincture, they are often consumed alone or blended into your favourite meals and drinks. Much of its medical uses have been anecdotal reviews on social media posts, forums, weblog posts, and more.

Whereas there is no such thing as a specific research on Delta 8 THC products’ detectability on drug tests, it can be assumed that using the products will yield a positive result on drug checks on condition that Delta 8 and Delta 9 have similar molecular constructions, and the truth that modern drug tests are typically slightly sensitive. Marijuana is known for its vital concentrations of delta 9 THC, ranging between 5% and 30%. These quantities is not going to only get you greater than hemp-derived delta 8 THC, but they also make such merchandise federally illegal. Getting a reliable 510 thread battery would better swimsuit delta-8 carts. We particularly offer two different sorts of delta-8 vape carts, which can be utilized with the vape battery that we additionally provide. They’re utilizing dangerous chemicals (various heavy metals and acids) to transform CBD into delta 8 THC. Because of delta 8 thc user reviews ’s gaining a lot attention within the media and with lawmakers. A gummy or capsule could take wherever between forty five minutes and a few hours to kick in, depending on whenever you last ate and the velocity of your digestive system. We don’t know. What we know for positive is that there are many opportunists on the market making the worst D8 merchandise attainable just to make a fast buck. For shoppers starting from cannabis corporations at all steps of the enterprise and product life-cycle to financiers and financial institutions concerned with the business and ancillary service providers, McGlinchey attorneys are the experienced counsel you want in your corner.

#delta thc 8

[casspurrjoybell-29]

Healing Ties - Chapter 30

*Warning: Adult Content*  

It took Fanner a long time to get to sleep that night, but once he did he slept through until dawn.

That was still probably fewer hours than he needed and certainly not enough to make up for everything he'd been through in the last few days but at this point just getting several hours of solid sleep felt like a blessing.

Danya had brought him some supplies, so Fanner found a comb in the bag and combed and braided his hair and then dressed in a fresh shirt and pants.

The werewolves who lived here shifted so often and freely that half the time they didn't even bother with clothes and when they did they were quite minimal.

Maybe he would fit in better if he went around without his shoes or shirt on but somehow it felt improper when it was him.

Yore had made it clear that Fanner was free to move around on his own but he decided to wait for Slone anyway.

No one had been aggressive towards him or threatened him in any way but they weren't exactly welcoming, either.

The way they looked at him or refused to look at him at all, made him feel like they'd rather he wasn't there at all.

Slone seemed to be a bit of a night owl, though, so Fanner suspected he'd be waiting for a while.

He set himself the task of cleaning the guest cabin he was staying in while he waited.

There were eight beds in the room, though Fanner was the only one staying here at the moment.

To anyone else the room probably would have looked to be clean and in good repair but a Companion had an exacting eye.

Fanner noticed every dusty corner, every gouge in the wood of a bedframe, every smudge on the wall.

Maybe nobody would notice the difference when he was done but at least it made Fanner feel useful.

At least it kept him busy so that the dark thoughts couldn't sink in too deep.

It was midmorning by the time Fanner finally heard a knock on the door.

He went to answer it and was relieved to find Slone waiting for him.

"Ah, good, you look ready to go. Got breakfast."

He held up a cloth wrapped bundle.

"Put your shoes on. I'll take you to eat someplace nice outside."

Fanner grabbed the boots Lucas had given him, sat down on his bed and started to put them on.

Slone stepped inside, his head slowly turning as he looked around.

"You clean in here?"

"Oh, um... Yes, I... yes."

Slone nodded.

"Smells different."

"Oh. Ah... that's not bad, is it? You don't, ah. I think scent based animals sometimes like things smelling a certain way and..."

Slone waved the concern away.

"It's fine, Fanner. Just smelled of everyone else who'd stayed here a bit. Nobody'll miss that."

"Oh, okay. Good."

Fanner finished lacing his boots and stood.

"I just don't want to accidentally do something wrong. I'm sure I will, though. I did constantly when I lived at Milaine House and there weren't that many rules and I knew them all, I just... I'd get distracted and forget what I was supposed to be doing and I'd mess even the simplest of things up."

"Eh, well, places like that have a lot of snooty rules, right? You gotta stand just right or... I dunno. Guarantee you I wouldn't do too well at that either but I'm fine here. Very different thing, right?"

Fanner nodded.

"Yes. I'm sorry. I don't mean to complain or dump all my anxieties on you."

"Ah, nah, go ahead. It's what I'm here for, really. Anyway, you ready to go?"

Fanner nodded.

"Hope you're up for a bit of a morning hike," Slone said as he led the way out of the cabin.

"Gotta admit, I get a bit restless sitting around at home."

"Me too."

Slone led them towards a trail leading up a hill, away from the village.

"Yeah, I reckon we're a bit alike, only I grew up doing whatever I wanted and you grew up being told you couldn't be all like that. But you can. You can be all sorts of things."

"You seem happy."

"Yeah, I'm happy."

"Calm."

"I've been told I'm pretty laid back, yeah."

"I don't feel calm. I feel like I have all this buzzing inside my head and I'm anxious all the time and I can't focus on anything. I'm useless."

"Well, there's your problem. You're all focussed on having a use. Me, I help out when I can but mostly I'm just living, y'know? When you got a mind like a wild animal, it don't work so great when you try to keep it in a cage."

Fanner stared at the ground, listening to leaves crunch under his boots.

"I don't know how to be any other way. I don't know how to be free."

"Well, how long you been free for? A week? Can't say I'm surprised you ain't mastered it yet."

"I guess it sounds silly when you put it like that."

Slone shook his head.

"Nah. Just unrealistic, right? People think of skills as being things like hunting or building things or I dunno, reading but all kinds of things are skills. Being happy is a skill. Making friends is a skill. Not letting anxiety get all up in your head is a skill. Sometimes those things are way harder than anything anyone tries to sit you down and teach you when you're a kid, too."

"I had a lot of practise trying to be what they wanted me to be at Milaine House but I was never good at it."

"Because you weren't what they wanted you to be. Some things you can learn, some things you just ain't and can't ever be. Forget about being what anyone wants you to be. Get good at being what you are."

"But... what am I?"

Slone shrugged.

"Don't know but I sure hope to find out."

The path got steeper and less clearly cut through the woods from there but Slone was there to help whenever Fanner struggled or stumbled.

Eventually the ground flattened out again and Slone led him to the edge of a ledge overlooking the woods.

Slone sat down on a boulder.

"We can eat up here."

"Wow," Fanner said as he sat down next to him.

"Like it?" Fanner nodded.

"I've never seen anything like this before."

"What you can see is just a tiny bit of the world. Barely any of it. If you ever feel like you don't fit in or you're not good at whatever, I want you to remember that the world is fuckin' huge. There's always new people to meet and places to go and things to try. It's not like bein' a Companion where you have to be liked by a particular person, good at particular things, gotta go wherever you're sent. Y'know?"

Fanner nodded again.

"Yes. I understand. I just... don't know what I'm good at or where I belong."

"You'll figure it out."

"Hmm..." Fanner dipped his head.

"Do you think I could belong here or is this just not for me because I'm not a werewolf?"

"Tricky question, that. Do you want this to be a place for you?"

"I don't really know much about it, I suppose. I've only met a few people."

"This about Yore?"

Fanner looked back out at the view.

He was silent for a long moment.

"I know everyone's just going to think it's because I'm a Companion and this is what Companions do. I don't know. Maybe that is why. But... I don't know. It's not like he feels like a master to me. Not at all. He cuts through all of that and makes it go away."

"That sure don't make things any less complicated."

"I know. I know he's already given me time he can't spare and I can't expect him to... I don't know. I can't ask anything more of him."

"Yeah, I dunno. It's tough."

"I like you, too. You're easy to talk to. And Morren. But Yore..."

"Nah, I get that. Bit more going on there than him just bein' easy to talk to."

"Hmm..."

"You're gonna wanna be careful who you share those thoughts with, 'cause most are gonna think the best thing is to just get you away from Yore before things get more complicated. I think... I dunno. I think you gotta just have feelings and follow them sometimes, and if you get your heart broken, that's just what happens. Even if it hurts, that's life, right? Better that than havin' everyone try to control you for your own protection."

"I know he's not going to..." Fanner fell silent and shrugged.

"I just want to stay near him, if I can. I mean, I also need to stay here because I don't think it's safe for me to be around the mages. I promise I wasn't lying about that, I just..."

"Nah, makes sense. There can be more than one thing going on at a time. Usually is the case, really. Anyway, I brought breakfast."

Slone untied the string binding his cloth bundle and unwrapped it to reveal some kind of cooked meat with green beans on the side.

"Had Morren cook up some of the beans Danya brought with some venison. I figured maybe mages don't usually eat just meat for breakfast."

"Oh. Um... thank you."

At Milaine House they'd normally had bread, sometimes with some jam or honey but they also hadn't gone on morning hikes so perhaps a more filling breakfast was called for in this situation.

It felt odd eating meat with his bare hands but Slone hadn't brought any utensils, so Fanner tried not to let it bother him.

Table manners had been hammered into him since he was old enough to feed himself and now he was sitting on a rock in the woods, eating meat with his bare hands with a werewolf.

They shared the meal, so at least this time Fanner didn't have to worry about not being able to finish it all.

"So," Slone said in between licking his fingers clean.

"You know how to tell directions? Like north, south and all that?"

"Uhh..."

Fanner looked around himself.

"The sun rises in the east, doesn't it?"

"Yup."

"So, um."

Fanner glanced up at the sun but it was already quite high in the sky and he wasn't sure which direction it had risen from.

"No. I guess I don't really know how."

"Don't worry. It ain't as easy as you'd think."

Slone pulled a small, cylindrical metal object out of his pocket and handed it to Fanner.

"Know what this is?"

Fanner turned the object in his hand and a little pointer bobbled around inside, keeping its direction constant.

"Is it a compass?"

"Oh, huh? You actually do know what it is. I sure fuckin' didn't when they first gave it to me when I was in the human military for a bit. Anyway, you should have that. I don't use it."

"Oh. Um, thank you. Why do I...?"

"Oh, right. Well, see, you're the only one of two people in your evac group who can't shift. Only one who can't follow a scent and all sorts of other wolf things. You gotta know how to find your way to the rally point all on your own. Just in case, y'know."

"Okay," Fanner said. "Um. Where's the rally point?"

"Hmm..."

Slone stood up and walked closer to the edge of the ledge.

"See way off in the distance, that little glimmer? That tall, light blue thing?"

"No. Wait, yes. I think so?"

"That's the Spire. Sits right in the middle of the Capital. That's where Yore is right now, actually. Something bad happens, you head straight for that. What direction you think that's in?"

Fanner held up the compass and watched the little bobbling arrow.

"It's, uhh... "

He turned the compass in his hand but that didn't help him any.

"Um..."

"It's east," Slone said.

"Look, this pointy fucker here always points north and then if you line it up with the little 'N' it makes it easy to see where the other directions are."

"Oh," Fanner said. "Okay, yes. I understand. But, um... how long do you think it would take me to get there?"

Slone looked out towards the distant Spire and frowned.

"I can get there on four legs in a few hours but you on two, havin' to make sure you're going the right way all the time, maybe getting slowed down or havin' to detour if there's danger and 'course you'd have to stop at night... Least a few days, I'd say."

"I don't think I'd survive that. When I was with Yore, I felt like there was danger everywhere. I ran off briefly, and if he hadn't caught up with me..."

"It ain't too safe," Slone admitted. "But it ain't all just danger everywhere. Lotta weird things out here but a good majority of 'em ain't lookin' to hurt you. Lot of them are just like most normal animals, just mindin' their own business and some of 'em will help you if they can."

"Like Cookie. Or... or even like Yore, I suppose. He was just someone who happened to come across me when he found me."

"Right. Exactly."

"But... how do I know who wants to help me and who wants to kill me? Cookie looks like a monster and there was a creature in the water that tried to drown me that looked like a child."

"Guess that's always the question, ain't it? Who can you trust? Can't say I always know the answer to that one myself."

"I think... I think trust isn't a binary thing, either. Sometimes you can trust someone quite a bit but... not completely. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, 'course."

"I find it hard to trust people completely. Even when they probably deserve it."

"Don't think any smart person would in your situation. You gotta give yourself time, Fanner. Stop beating yourself up for not bein' like people who've had years or whole lifetimes to figure this shit out."

"I wish I didn't have so many feelings, so many thoughts in my head. I'm tired."

"C'mon," Slone said as he hopped off the rock.

"Best thing for that is to get moving, take that energy out of your head and put it into your body."

Fanner spent the rest of the day outside with Slone.

He tried to teach Fanner how to catch fish without a rod or net, how to start a fire without proper tools or magic and how to track a deer.

Fanner wasn't sure he'd learned any of it by the time they headed back but Slone didn't seem to mind.

He seemed to care more about having fun splashing around in the river than whether or not Fanner could wrestle out one of the fish that were hiding under the edge of the bank.

Sleep came more easily that night.

[newsworld-nw]

TikToker 'so bored' with 9-to-5 job 'I don't have time for anything.'

A TikTok user has obtained practically 2 million views on a video he posted expressing frustration about how little time he had left after his conventional, in-person 9-to-5 job with an extended commute and an eight-hour workday. "I do know I am in all probability being too dramatic and boring; however, that is my first job," stated TikTok person Brielle, who solely wished to make use of her first title as a result of privateness issues. video. "I haven't got time for something!" Brielle, a 21-year-old current school graduate who works in advertising, defined that after working days and commuting two hours every means between her house in New Jersey and her workplace in New York, she was shocked and “very upset” by how little time she had and that he had the power to train, meet his associates, and even cook dinner. "How's your pal? How's your time for courting?" he stated within the video, posted on October 17. “There is not any means I can afford to stay within the metropolis proper now... I want to stroll to work; however, I am not.” The video obtained practically 15,000 pieces of feedback, with many from customers expressing sympathy for Brielle's sentiments and their very own criticism of the standard workplace schedule. "The 40-hour work week is outdated and your emotions are completely legitimate," learns the highest remark, with more than 39,000 likes. "The 40-hour work week was designed with a housekeeper to care for the home tasks," one other person wrote in regards to the conventional work week. "There isn't a time for something." One other commenter was extra blunt: “That is so repetitive and irritating. I feel you are a lady."

People are questioning the standard work week

The response to the video signifies how rapidly people have turned in opposition to the five-day commute to the workplace that was as soon as thought about as the default mode of labor. For instance: 81% of People who work full-time would favor a four-day workweek, according to a survey from Aug. Bankrate It was discovered that almost all of the respondents stated they might sacrifice something to make this small hour an actuality. A study of 61 firms within the UK that attempted a shorter working week discovered that these firms reported greater revenues and fewer worker turnover, whereas most staff within the trial experienced much less burnout and more satisfaction with their work-life steadiness. Commuting remains an enormous downside for commuters. In 2023, research discovered that workers who earn a living from home save an extra 72 minutes a day. Non-commuters devoted 40% of that additional time to their jobs, 34% to leisure, and 11% to caring for their kids or others. New York Federal Reserve researchers additionally discovered that individuals who work remotely and do not commute have extra time for leisure and sleep. However, some people see nothing unsuitable with the standard means of handling issues. An article about Brielle's video revealed by Insider obtained dozens of comments on Facebook. -4.17%, Lots of the customers joked in regards to the declining work ethic of the youthful era. One person wrote, “Welcome to the true world.

'I can not think about working dad and mom on the market.'

Brielle instructed MarketWatch that the protection and commenters appeared fast to criticize him, as an alternative to inspecting the difficulty he was attempting to boost within the unique video. "A whole lot of the information proper now could be about portraying me as a spoiled member of Gen Z, slightly more than calling for a reevaluation of insurance policies," he instructed MarketWatch by way of email. And responding to the Insider article in a video Tuesday, Brielle stated she's grateful to be employed in any respect—and that she's not the one employee fighting the inflexible construction of a conventional workplace job. "I cannot even think about working dad and mom on the market," she stated. "I give them loads of credit scores because, in America, it is extremely tough to be emotionally and mentally steady when your days are structured like this." "What I am saying is sure: America's 9-to-5 schedule must be reformed," he continued. "It isn't truthful that the ones benefiting are those that both run firms... or who're extraordinarily rich or influential and do not work on an everyday schedule." See extra: Why does TikTok hate the 401(okay) a lot? #TikToker #bored #9to5 #job #dont #time Read the full article

[robortharryy]

The Adventures Of Cowboy Mike And Winston – What Makes It The Ideal Children’s Read?

The adorable banter between Winston and Cowboy Mike is not just fun to read but also teaches you some great lessons.

Nowadays, children are more occupied with their phones than with learning materials. Instead of going out to play in the park, most are cooped up in their beds, playing games or watching videos.

The first eight years of life are crucial for a child’s brain development. It’s not the time for handing them gadgets and extended screen time. It is the time for gentle parenting, bedtime stories, and picture books.

Picture books are the best learning medium to instill healthy habits in your child. They serve as a window to another realm, where they can fly, fight some bad guys and save the day. They also learn the differences between good and evil, love and hurt, and also the importance of friendships and emotions.

Cowboy Mike and Winston also want to teach children something important. Micheal D. Eastwood’s A Day in the Life of Cowboy Mike and Winston is an adventure-logue of Cowboy Mike and his pony, Winston. Although they are always busy having fun and working to care for each other, there are hidden lessons in their story that parents and children should know.

It Teaches Time Management

Time management is the first thing that paves the road to success.

A person who knows how to spend their day productively tends to achieve more and miss fewer opportunities. Time management is not an easy skill to master for young ones, especially when they have shorter attention spans and so much to explore around them. However, you can make them realize its value through Cowboy Mike’s devotion to caring for Winston, his pony.

A Day in the Life of Cowboy Mike and Winston can teach children how to tell time on a clock, the difference between minutes, hours, days, and nights in a playful way. It also teaches them how to divide this time to work more in less time.

Sense of Responsibility

Why do you think Cowboy Mike takes care of Winston so much?

Because he loves him and is responsible for him. Owning a pet is a significant responsibility; as an owner, you have to provide them with food and shelter and keep them clean to avoid the spread of germs. As owners, you must keep them safe and protected as a sign of your love and affection for them.

Cowboy Mike also does the same for Winston. He feeds, cleans, and protects him, giving him a home to live in. Why? Because as Winston’s Owner, Cowboy Mike is responsible for him.

Self-Care Before Others

How can you care for your pet if you cannot care for yourself? Not at all.

Suppose you’re sleepy because you stayed up all night. Can you take your pet out for a walk or give it a bath when you are tired? You will probably nap in the park rather than walk your pet.

Therefore, taking care of your needs is vital to becoming a strong owner of your animals, just Like Cowboy Mike, who always goes to bed early and completes his hours of sleep to wake up all fresh and cheery for another exciting and cheerful day with his favorite pony.

Cowboy Mike Can Teach You a Lot About Ponies!

Did you know that Ponies need a lot of water to stay hydrated all day? You can learn more amazing things like these in Michael D. Eastwood’s pet log, A Day in the Life of Cowboy Mike and Winston. This children’s author hopes to spread awareness among kids about ponies and how to care for them. From bright, eye-catching illustrations to easy-to-read writing, the adventures of Cowboy Mike and Winston are an ode to the beautiful bond between Micheal D. Eastwood and his pet pony.

Delve into the world of friendly smiles and cheerful neighs with A Day in the Life of Cowboy Mike and Winston to teach your child meaningful life lessons.

#animals #friendship #animal lover #lifestyle

[angelholme]

V, V, V — Day 9 : Snowglobe

Imagine, if you will, a library.

It is infinitely big — there are an infinite number of floors, and on each floor there are an infinite number of bookcases, and on each bookcase there are an infinite number of shelves.

And on every shelf there are an infinite number of snowglobes.

And in each snowglobe there is an alternate version of our universe.

One of them contains our universe — the one that you live in right now — but all the others contain alternate versions.

And with every second, new snowglobes, new shelves, new bookcases, new floors appear — the library gets bigger.

You can walk through the library, and look at each snowglobe. You can touch them and they will project what is going on in that universe at the current moment.

Or you can press the button in front of them and leap into that universe — either to just have a look around (as a ghostly/holographic entity) or as someone who can interfere with the universe. But if you interfere with the universe, you will create a new one at the point you start interfering — another snowglobe will appear in the library.

So there is a chance you are wondering where I am going with this. Or if I am just writing a random story because I have no clue.

Well I do have somewhere I am going, I promise.

When I was younger I was introduced to the idea that for every decision that is made, the opposite choice is made in another version of our universe. And because I was younger I just accepted that as a workable idea.

However once you start thinking about it, you realise how ridiculous it is.

Right now the world population is around eight billion people. Which — you know — is quite a lot of people. And while some of those people are new borns and so probably make fewer decisions than most, but for the most part eight billion people are making decisions every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year of their life.

And it is not just the eight billion people who are alive now — this would apply to every person who has ever lived. Ever. Since the dawn of time. Which is a very long time.

And I haven’t included the idea that animals and so forth make choices and decisions — mostly because if you start including the choices animals make then……. yeah, lets not go down that route.

So if we have trillions or quadrillions of people making quintillions, maybe decillions, of decisions since the dawn of time and if alternate versions of these decisions get played out in other universes then even if these decisions are only binary choices — left or right, true or false, yes or no — then there would be an infinite number of alternate universes.

Which — to me — would beg the question……… where are they? I know they are supposed to exist in parallel space with us, but can an infinite number of universes exist in the same space? Wouldn’t the available amount of space eventually run out?

Plus we all make new decisions all the time, so the number of universes would be increasing every single moment. Even as I am writing this I would be responsible for hundreds of new universes all on my own.

So what if the all powerful Judge — the neutral being who runs the library and looks after the snowglobes — has the ability to see the outcome of the choices we make, and whether or not they would spawn a new universe.

Whether you take three or four steps to reach the end of your street probably isn’t that important. So doing that won’t create a new universe.

However it could be that if you take three steps you get there faster, and so reach the end of the street in time to get hit by a car, but taking four steps would ensure you don’t get hit by the car. And given that you won’t be around to make any new decisions, it would almost certain to create a new universe — maybe several dozen.

So you can see how complicated it could be.

(An episode of “Babylon 5” touches on this — “Learning Curve” talks about getting a flower from a mountain top and if it is worth dying for. But there is more about that than I can cover here).

So making choices can create a new universe, or might just leave things alone. The Judge would manage all of this and so the number of universes would be kept to less than infinite (although it would be quite large — quadrillions of of people making decillions of choices is still a large number)

But it is going into the universes to change the past that would be most interesting. Especially our universe.

I am not a fan of changing the past. Because we are a sum of our memories, and all our experiences have brought us here. Even the big events — the world changing, shattering the whole of history days that rewrote the world — are ones that I wouldn’t change because they would change some of the better things we have today.

World War Two lead to the formation of the UN, to the creation of the Geneva Conventions, to a number of other important changes in the world.

World War One lead to a large number of social changes that made the world an infinitely better place. It also lead to World War Two.

Riots, massacres…….. they all lead to social change.

In short — there are any number of truly bad, dark, horrific events that some people might consider going back to change, given the choice.

But if they did, they would remove some of the better parts of the world — remove The Geneva Conventions, remove The UN and the good it has done, strip women of the right to vote, delay socialised medicine for years, maybe decades…….

The world has been a truly horrible place at times, but without the horror then I think there would be far less light — that there would be far more darkness.

I can only think of one thing I would go back to change. Because so far I haven’t seen any light come of it. One thing that changed the world — the whole world — for the worse for what will be for decades to come.

And given the chance, I would definitely go back and ensure it never happens. And I think if you think about it for long enough, you will figure it out.

#v v v #may myself and i #day 9 #snowglobe #library #decision #alternate universe #history

[tuesday7econlive]

The Trade-offs in my Life

At this very moment, it is 7 PM on March 16, 2023, if I’m being honest I have done everything possible to try to push off this EconLive assignment. Back around week six after the midterm, I told myself I’d focus on getting this project done to avoid being stressed out with finals coming but the reality is I’ve just now begun. I told myself I’d visit during office hours to understand the concept of the project. It’s now week ten but at least I can say I did the project right. Because I pushed off the assignment to the very end I have fewer study hours for my finals this coming week. I tend to procrastinate and wait till something is mandatory to turn in. Now my next dilemma is figuring out when I have time to study and when I’m open to taking the Econ final exam. I carry on stress being a full-time student while also working. I work all weekend from Friday to Sunday all being eight-hour shifts and you’re probably wondering why I didn’t call off or request the days off if I knew I had finals to study for… but it isn’t so simple for me. I’M A WORKAHOLIC. Ever since the day I turned eighteen and was able to be employed in a nonfast food workplace I’ve taken it upon myself to keep busy. In the beginning, it began as a quick shift to make enough money to cover my senior year expenses as well as my needs/wants. My mother has been raising three children including myself for the past ten years. Money was a struggle growing up, every time it was payday more than 80% of her check would go to bills. Neither my sisters nor I even bothered asking for $5 when the ice cream man would come around because we knew there were other worries. Now that I’ve been employed for around three years I have a well understanding of what it takes to make a dollar, although getting my first job making minimum wage I remember thinking, “$14 FOR AN HOUR OF MY LIFE!” Even after I came to terms with the wage I didn’t mind helping out my mom with bills and making her life not so full of stress. 

Since I started working in high school while COVID-19 hit and school was virtual I didn’t mind working because it at least allowed me to go out and get out of the house. In this economy, it’s impossible to be a full-time student without an income. Once I started college I realized I wouldn’t be able to work as much meaning my income would drastically decrease. All my friends who are taken care of by their parents tell me I work too hard not knowing I’m in charge of all my finances. I’ve always been super independent, coming into college my mom told me, “If you want to go to college you have to figure it out yourself”. Therefore I figured out how loans work, how to apply to FAFSA, my way of transportation, etc. I became so accustomed to getting my check and sending $100 to my little sister to make my mom’s life easier but now I can only do that every so often. I had to learn to balance out being a student while also taking on a job. Believe me, it was a challenge. Last year as a freshman I made my class schedule around my work schedule and everyone told me it should be the other way around. I was so focused on making money and being able to take care of myself that I lacked academics. In this situation, the tradeoff was cutting off work hours to have more time to put toward my academics. Once I noticed my grades started dropping I quickly made the change. For example,  instead of working on this project, I could be at work but the outcome of the decision would be an F in the grade book. Below I’ve attached a graph which shows the average amount of hours a student works while also being a full-time/part-time student throughout the years. 

https://nces.ed.gov/programs/coe/indicator/ssa/college-student-employment

Daisy Reyes - 82929106

[mattresszone]

Significance of a good mattress for your health | Repose Showroom Chennai

It is well known that acquiring sufficient bedtime is connected to benefitting your complete health. From enhancing your memory to helping weight loss and even strengthening your immune system, there are a bunch of positives to reaching your complete eight hours. But can your mattress be hampering your prospects of soft sleep and better fitness?

Most mattresses must last between 7 and 10 years. On the other hand, many variables can affect mattress lifespan. The actual shape grade of the mattress, the materials utilized, and even the weight and sleeping types of the sleepers can all affect a bed's longevity.

The mattress you rest on can greatly affect your power to get a good night’s sleep, yet its importance is often overseen. Below are some of the key health advantages of a top-quality mattress.

Exemplary spinal alignment

Your mattress must help each component of your body equally. Without this even weight allocation, your inferior back will not be adequately backed, meaning your spine will not be in a neutral position. Obscene spinal alignment can drive a complete host of issues over time, such as chronic pain. Visit the Repose showroom chennai to buy a mattress at your comfort and cost affordable.

If you are not obtaining the right level of help, it is probably because your mattress is too soft. Spring mattresses can drive the importance to rest too laboriously on your shoulders and hips, resulting in muscle strain in your unsubstantiated lumbar part. To stop this, select a mattress that helps the natural curve of your spine.

Prevent pain

If you are all too famous with back or joint pain, then there is a fine possibility your mattress is the fugitive. Proper alignment is important for pain-free sleep – your mattress must keep your spine in a straight line throughout the night. It must also reduce stress points and keep your posture, which will assist stop the pain.

Tackle snoring

Snoring happens when your airway is partially obstructed during sleep. It is often linked with sleeping on your back, but your mattress can also be somewhat reliable. If it wilts too much when you are lying on it, your head and neck will not be adequately helped this forces your throat to constrict, and the snoring to begin. If you wish for a snore-free slumber, select a medium-firm mattress.

Quit tossing and turning

All of us understand the sense of an interrupted night’s sleep. Frequent tossing and turning heavily impact your grade of sleep, especially if sleeping next to a partner. This is because the movement of moving over creates ‘motion waves’ which are transferred through your mattress. A firm, good-quality mattress will soak these waves, so even if your mate turns over or gets out of the mattress, you are less likely to be disturbed.

Decrease stress levels

A growth in sleep quality can result in decreased stress levels. When you are sleep deficient, your body delivers more stress hormones, which in turn develops your blood pressure – not ideal for feeling relaxed. Regular, deep sleep (inspired by a good mattress) allows you to keep your blood stress low and your mood relaxed.

Decrease allergy signs

Dust pittances like to set up home in mattresses, are inevitable, but they are also the top reason for indoor allergies. A mattress that has a thicker structure allows to prevent these mites; there is simply not as much room for them to live. This implies you may see a decrease in hay fever-like signs – fewer sneezes and more snoozing.

A fine quality mattress is about much more than convenience. With the proper mattress, you are likely to have a worth of advantages to your general health

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