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thankspete · 1 year

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The Kitchen (c.h.)

This work is part of a series, When Our Friend Isn’t Around. Part 1: The Patio / Part 2: The Kitchen / Part 3: The Living Room / Part 4: The Guest Bedroom

Word Count: 1.7k Rating: T Summary: Being part of the clean-up crew isn’t so bad, after all. | Also on Ao3! Warnings: ~recreational drug use~

The upbeat rock music from earlier has been switched to smooth R&B, quietly trickling from the living room through the rest of the house. The colorful LEDs are off and every light switch in the common space has been flicked on, exposing the spills and crumbs around you. You know it doesn’t make sense, since you’re literally cleaning, but the harsh fluorescence was jarring and your drunk brain wished they’d turn the overhead light off.

According to the digital clock on the microwave, it was 5:23 in the morning. Everyone had begun to file out of the party by 3-ish, with stragglers and close friends bidding their goodbyes closer to 4. It’s not like you were expecting to be in bed by one, but you were really starting to regret promising Ashton you’d help him clean up afterwards.

Calum stuck around, too, given they were hosting together. They were in the living room, chatting and picking up discarded cups and cans, which fell into the garbage bags with light swishes and clinks. You stack the cups strewn around the kitchen on the dining table, alongside the empty boxes of Stella and PBR before rummaging under the sink for Clorox wipes. The first cylinder you grab seems too thin and light to be what you were looking for and you pull it from shadow into your view. An empty can of Mike’s Hard.

“Huh?” Who the fuck threw this under the sink?

“Hey.” A voice startles you and you bump your shoulder on the edge of the cabinet as you exit. Calum’s boots come into your view first, then his flushed face.

“You good if I take these?” He points to the cups on the table.

You nod and toss the can in his direction. “This, too!”

He catches the can in the bag, then puts it down to start breaking down the boxes on the table. You reach back into the cabinet, finding what you were looking for.

“Need help with anything?” He’s shoving the final folded box into the black bag before tying it up. “We’re pretty much done picking shit up, Ash is sweeping right now.”

“Sure. I think I’ve got surfaces covered, wanna help with this sticky puddle I’ve been walking in for the last hour?”

So he does. While you’re wiping down the counters, cabinets, and microwave, Calum raids the storage closet for a Swiffer. It takes him a couple of tries to get the mopping wipe on the head, but he figures it out.

You boost yourself onto the counter, opening up more floor space for him.

“So did Joey end up breaking anything this time?”

A small laugh escapes from his nose. “No, not that I know of.” He glances up at you before returning his attention to the pink stain on the tile. “Not that you were of any help on that front.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You nudge his thigh with your shoe. Unexpectedly, he grabs your ankle, setting aside his mopping task for now.

“I was supposed to keep an eye on him tonight.” He moves closer, maintaining a soft grip on your leg. Sitting up on the counter, you’re practically his height, looking him straight in the face, anticipating his next move. “You kept me a bit distracted.” He moves his hand from your ankle onto the counter to the right of you. You don’t look, but you can sense that there are only millimeters between his thumb and your jeans.

You weren’t quite sure what he meant by that. After Ashton had come out to get you both from the patio around 1:30, you only spoke to him two or three other times. He and Ashton were great hosts, flittering around the room, making sure everyone felt welcome, telling them thank you for coming. It was hardly your fault it seemed he kept gravitating back to you. First it was at the drinks table, when you were pouring your final cup of juice. The second time, he guided you by the elbow to a small crowd hanging out by the speaker and introduced you to them. He stuck around for a few minutes, allowing you to acclimate to these strangers before leaving you to converse with a small tug on your shirt and a wink. You were certain you’d seen Joey leave before 3 anyway, leaning on a friend’s shoulder and stumbling on his way out.

“Seems like you were distracting yourself, Calum.” You motion to the discarded Swiffer, leaning on the cabinets across from you. He was needlessly concerning himself with you again. You couldn’t say you didn’t like it.

“Just wanted’a make sure you were having a good time.” He shrugs and in a moment of rare unbridled confidence (or stupidity), you move your right hand from your lap to resting on top of his.

“What’s your excuse right now?”

His expression remains unchanged, smiling with slightly raised brows, clearly amused by this interaction. You weren’t sure what you were hoping for, but some encouragement would be nice.

He leans in slightly, resting his left hand on the other side of you. “You’re funny, you know that?”

While you missed the blue and purple ambiance lighting, you couldn’t say you were upset about getting to really look at his face for the first time tonight. He is pretty, with full lips and deep brown eyes. His hair is tousled, curls messy from the beanie he had been wearing earlier.

It seems like he hears Ashton coming before you do and takes a quick step back, removing his hands from either side of you. The cold counter feels like it’s burning your skin compared to the warmth of his hand and for the first time, you feel disappointed that your mutual friend showed up. He clomps into the kitchen holding a grimy dustpan and dragging the broom behind him.

“Looks great in here, guys!” Ashton takes a look around the room after disposing of the dirt, dust, and crumbs into the trash. “Need help with anything before I head to bed? M’fuckin exhausted.”

Calum has picked the Swiffer back up by now, wiping the remaining stains from the floor. “No thanks bro,” he says, not even looking up. “I think we’ve got it handled.” You smile at Ashton, corroborating Calum’s statement.

“Fuck yeah. See y’all in the mornin’!” He turns and makes a bee-line to his room, down the hallway from the right side of the living room.

“M’almost done,” Calum says and you jump from the counter to the floor.

“I’m gonna get a reward ready for us.” You turn to leave the room.

“Reward?” He stops mopping for a moment, a little confused.

“For cleaning this man’s house,” you shrug.

You leave him with that and make your way to the coat closet by the front door. Off the top shelf, you pull your backpack from its hiding place. It had pajamas, deodorant, and most importantly, weed. On your way to sit, you turn off the overhead light and flip on a lamp in the corner of the room. You sink into the ratty green couch and pull the rolling tray from the coffee table to your lap. It takes a moment to rummage through your bag for papers, filters, and herbs, but you find them. When everything is laid out, filter folded and ready, you begin your process. First, a layer of marijuana, then a thinner layer of mullein. It’s supposed to be good for sleep, but it tastes like shit, so you cover it with a layer of lavender. Overtop, you place another layer of weed and pick up the paper in a U-shape to begin rolling it shut. Calum comes in from the kitchen while you’re licking the adhesive.

“I see what you mean by reward, now. Pass ‘er over.” He sits just a few inches to your right on the couch. You hand the unfinished joint to him and he flicks it to force the herbs to fall towards the filter before twisting the end shut. You pass him your lighter, a black Clipper, to start off your little smoke circle. He pumpkin-tops it again before lighting it, discarding the leftover paper onto the rolling tray.

“Lavender?” He asks.

“And mullein,” you say, placing the tray back on the coffee table. You turn to face him now, back leaning on the armrest, your bent knee on the couch between you.

“You’re getting me used to this fancy shit, baby. I don’t think I can go back to cutting my weed with straight tobacco.” He passes the joint to you. “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

You smoke before answering. “Online. Herb shops. Witchy stores. Probably farmers markets.” Your fingers brush together when you pass him the joint.

“Mm…think you’ll just be my plug, then. Seems like a lot of work.”

“Ordering from Amazon seems like a lot of work?” You’re a little flabbergasted.

He’s holding the jay between his thumb and forefinger and brings it to your lips to shut you up.

“I can stay out here tonight,” he changes the topic, referring to the pull-out couch you were currently sitting on.

You remove the joint from your mouth by pulling his wrist back, keeping your hand wrapped around his arm.

“You tired yet?”

“Are you?”

You think for a moment, and despite feeling the fatigue in your bones, shake your head. “Still gotta shower, anyway.” You weren’t sure if you were informing him or inviting him. You could tell from the way his clothes fit that his body is probably a sight to behold. See if he’s got any other tattoos obstructed by his shirt…and maybe his pants. No, definitely not inviting him, though the thought was enticing. You remembered the way he stepped back when you were face to face in the kitchen. What would Ash think?

You bring his hand back to your face, take a puff, and let go.

“And when were you thinking of doing that? 8am? We’re wasting moonlight!”

“Pfft.” You pull the joint from his mouth, mimicking his actions on the patio. “After our reward, silly.”

“And your plan after…?”

“Sleep.” You shrug and pass the jay back to him. “Unless you’ve got something else in mind.”

as promised, the next chapter will be spicy <3 i always appreciate feedback, likes, and reblogs! hope u enjoyed :)

#calum hood x reader #calum hood imagine #calum hood oneshot #5sos imagine #5sos blurb #calum hood smut #part 3 is COMPLETE and coming out soon <3

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songforeddiemunson · 2 years

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brb just obsessing over more little details in Eddie's room. Some details under the cut.

Exhibit A: A couple of PBR beer cans and what looks like maybe some cologne bottles. I thought the white one might be old spice but the bottles were a different shape in 1986

Exhibit B: needs no explanation but excuse me while I DIE over "This Machine Slays Dragons." Also, whose handwriting is that?

Exhibit C: looks like shaving cream and maybe a bottle of shampoo or some sort of cleaner. Hygiene; I love to see it.

Exhibit D: what the fuck Eddie??????

That's actually a really nice Fender amp; he would have had to save up for it, unless it used to be Wayne's or something.

Also spotted on the right side of the photo: looks like maybe a couple VHS tapes, MORE shaving cream, a yo-yo, and a random pepper shaker. I love that I'm staring at this photo for little Eddie kernels as if he's not a fictional character and this wasn't staged by a prop department. My mind is ruined.

#eddie munson #stranger things

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kennak · 2 months

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要約するとTOPIXを100万、残りをPER,PBRが低い個別グロース株を吟味して10万ずつ10銘柄程度買えということ。儲けたいなら至極真っ当なアドバイス

[B! 投資] 個人資産800億円超「伝説の日本人投資家」が明かした「200万円持っていたら、何に投資すべきか」（伊藤博敏） @gendai_biz

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 2 years

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New study reveals the effect of extended space flight on astronauts’ brains Long-duration space flight alters fluid-filled spaces along veins and arteries in the brain, according to new research from Oregon Health & Science University and scientists across the country. The study published today in the journal Scientific Reports. “These findings have important implications as we continue space exploration,” said senior author Juan Piantino, M.D., assistant professor of pediatrics (neurology) in the OHSU School of Medicine. “It also forces you to think about some basic fundamental questions of science and how life evolved here on Earth.” The research involved imaging the brains of 15 astronauts before and after extended tours of duty on the International Space Station. Researchers used magnetic resonance imaging to measure perivascular space — or the space around blood vessels — in the brains of astronauts prior to their launch and again immediately after their return. They also took MRI measurements again at one, three and six months after they had returned. Astronauts’ images were compared with those taken of the same perivascular space in the brains of 16 Earth-bound control subjects. Comparing before and after images, they found an increase in the perivascular spaces within the brains of first-time astronauts, but no difference among astronauts who previously served aboard the space station orbiting earth. “Experienced astronauts may have reached some kind of homeostasis,” Piantino said. In all cases, scientists found no problems with balance or visual memories that might suggest neurological deficits among astronauts, despite the differences measured in the perivascular spaces of their brains. In comparing a large group of deidentified astronauts, the study is the first to comparatively assess an important aspect of brain health in space. Brains in space Human physiology is based on the fact that life evolved over millions of years while tethered to Earth’s gravitational pull. Unbound by the forces of gravity, the normal flow of cerebrospinal fluid in the brain is altered in space. “We all adapted to use gravity in our favor,” Piantino said. “Nature didn’t put our brains in our feet — it put them high up. Once you remove gravity from the equation, what does that do to human physiology?” Researchers decided to find out by measuring perivascular spaces, where cerebrospinal fluid flows in the brain. These spaces are integral to a natural system of brain cleansing that occurs during sleep. Known as the glymphatic system, this brain-wide network clears metabolic proteins that would otherwise build up in the brain. Scientists say this system seems to perform optimally during deep sleep. The perivascular spaces measured in the brain amount to the underlying “hardware” of the glymphatic system. Enlargement of these spaces occurs in aging, and also has been associated with the development of dementia. Researchers used a technique developed in the laboratory of co-author Lisa C. Silbert, M.D., M.C.R., professor of neurology in the OHSU School of Medicine, to measure changes in these perivascular spaces through MRI scans. Piantino said the study could be valuable in helping to diagnose and treat Earth-bound disorders involving cerebrospinal fluid, such as hydrocephalus. “These findings not only help to understand fundamental changes that happen during space flight, but also for people on Earth who suffer from diseases that affect circulation of cerebrospinal fluid,” Piantino said. In addition to Piantino and Silbert, co-authors included first authors Kathleen E. Hupfeld and Sutton B. Richmond of the University of Florida; Heather R. McGregor and Rachael D. Seidler of the University of Florida; Daniel L. Schwartz and Madison N. Luther of OHSU; Nichole E. Beltran, Igor S. Kofman, Yiri E. De Dios and Ajitkumar P. Mulavara of PBR in Houston; Roy F. Riascos of the University of Texas Health Science Center; Scott J. Wood and Jacob J. Bloomberg of NASA; and Jeffrey J. Iliff of the University of Washington School of Medicine and the VA Puget Sound Health Care System. The research was supported by the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, grant NNX11AR02G; the National Space Biomedical Research Institute, award NCC 9-58; the National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship, grants DGE-1315138 and DGE-1842473; the National Institute of Neurological Disorders and Stroke, grant T32-NS082128; the National Institute on Aging fellowship 1F99AG068440 and grant awards R01AG056712, P30AG008017 and P30AG066518; and the National Heart Lung and Blood Institute, grant K23HL150217-01. The co-authors also thank all of the astronauts who volunteered their time, without whom this project would not have been possible.

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news #astronaut

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kadebronson · 1 year

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omg me and my friends went out for a few drinks last night and since everyone else was driving they told me to pick somewhere by me and like i’ve been in this neighborhood almost three years now and still haven’t gone to most of the places so i was doing some research and found this place

they were like we’re a late night bar and we have board games so i was like let’s check this place out it’s under a blue line station so it might be nosy but hey! games!

and they were awesome! cheesy B grade horror movies playing on the TVs, at one point they just put on a coheed and cambria album and let it play through, it wasn’t super packed probably because people thought it would be nosy being under a train station but you could barely tell, and their doorman was an older gay man who just kept coming over with new things to compliment me on he loved my hair and then when i turned around and he saw my jayne mansfield patch on my vest he almost died he was like “oh my god you are just so cool aren’t you”

we didn’t even end up playing any games just catching up on some stuff but i had such a great time so i think this will be my bar now

bonus: the chicago hand shake is with PBR instead of old style always a plus

#slice of life

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spilledreality · 1 year

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Outer Banks S1E1: Pilot

The first minute starts in media res, but if you pay close enough attention, you’re front-loaded with the basics. John B.—tan, sandy blonde surfer hair—is balancing on a roof in white All-Star high-top Converse. We see him standing at the structure’s very apex, one foot down, the other floating in empty space. He's framed by the sky and the ocean—it's just him, the roof, and the horizon, so that he resembles Caspar David Friedrich's Wanderer above the Sea of Fog. His arms are spread slightly, to help him balance, or like wings with which to fly, or like a crucifixion pose. He's all of these things this season: trying to keep the balance; trying to lift off and leave the ground behind; trying to be a martyr. It all gets set up here, PBR can in-hand, as his fellow Pogues try to keep the mood light-hearted while running damage control, talking him out of his insanities. "That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one in three chance of survival," says Pope, who's sheltered, but has the tightest-screwed head among this show’s regularly unhinged cast. John B. sticks an index finger in his mouth, wetting it with saliva and holding it up to the wind to see which way it blows. He's got a ragged blue bandana around his neck, his whole get-up matching the PBR can—they're laying the "working class" on thick—and asks rhetorically whether he should do it. J.J., backwards red cap, PBR can, some beaded bracelets, camo cut-offs with cargo pockets, raises his eyebrows, stays out of it on the sidelines while Pope, in his cardinal button-up—buttoned to the neck even the collars are fastened down—hoists an electric drill, revs it up, tries to keep the situation under control but casual through irony. "Yeah, you should jump; I'll shoot you on the way down," holding up the drill, as we put together that the gang’s snuck illegally into a construction site.

So that’s the boys. Warm beer and transgressed boundaries. Balanced on the brink of catastrophe and wondering if they should jump. Testing each other’s limits of caring under a mask of indifference. J.J. knows John B. best, which is why he's staying out of it; he's been through a suicidal shit-tests or two in his time, and knows instinctively, i how way recklessness is performed to get a rise. He’s been there before himself, and his old man didn’t give two shits, so why should he? Next we’re intro’d to Kiara, a girl in Boysland, so we immediately know three things: (1) She’s not like the other girls, i.e. she can hang (2) She’s in love with one of the boys, and one of the boys is in love with her (3) It’s not the same boy. But she's also way more than this; despite these tropeish reductions—which are really not about her, so much as they're about the structural dynamics of both real life and teenage drama—this show demonstrates an admirable Zoomer television trait, which is the ability to half-imagine men and women being friends in a way that isn’t inevitably undermined by sexuality. Mind you, it doesn’t fully manage this—teen drama is teen drama, teens want what teens want, and the show, post-S1, jumps its shark pretty thoroughly. But it half-manages, for a while.

Kiara—and this is more stereotype now, but an admiring stereotype, like "feminine intuition" or “Asian academic excellence”—cares a lot about the environment, about sea turtles and the great Pacific trash-island and global warming. She stalks out from the under-construction Kook infrastructure, emerging behind drywall and ducking under scaffolding. "They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers." J.J.: "Of course they are, why wouldn't they?" Kiara: "This used to be a turtle habitat." I like this from J.J.—it’s an underwhelming first line, in some sense; everyone from John B to Pope to Kiara has gotten their proper, character-defining intro, and J.J. has been apparently overlooked, but something important about his character is being relayed here. Kiara can still be surprised and disappointed by the world’s falling short of her personal ideals. J.J. is long, long past that.

Kiara, as the lone woman, is also the one comfortable with, you know, straight-forwardly expressing affection rather than cloaking it in indifference. Well, mostly. She looks up at John B.—"Can you please, not, kill yourself?" J.J., pragmatist-cynic, is mostly concerned that John's gonna drop his beer, which he does, and groans. "I'm not giving you another one." At that moment, hired security pulls up; Pope's first to notice and sounds the alarm. "Let's go boys," says Kiara, with a smile that shows how secure she feels, despite the apparent threat. It’s her, and her guys, against the world, and nothing can hurt them, and nothing can hurt her, and nothing will break them apart. Except time. But there’s no reason to think about that now, when high school feels eternal, when a summer is a lifetime. John and J.J. scramble down the scaffolding, dancing under the Tyvek logo, darting through a half-finished oversized living room. We get a Cops-style shaky action cam—the cinematography on this show can is one of its creative standouts—which follows the Pogues from a pit bull’s-eye-view, hopping fences and piling into their Mystery Van of a VW camper.

The security guard—a middle-aged, beer-bellied guy named Gary—chases after them on foot as the Pogue boys taunt him. "Check out Gary, gunning for a raise." "C'mon Gary, you're so close, you're so close," says J.J. before tossing him an empty PBR can. Kiara dutifully plays her role of both checking and amplifying the boys' bad behavior, as both the voice of conscience and their audience to shock. "You're gonna give him a heart attack," she protests; "Stop, stop." J.J. cools it, but balances the ledger through retort: "That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished."

And that’s our cast. We’ll get proper intros soon, but it’ll just unpack what we’ve already discovered, in their dress and digs and one-liners. The camper zooms past a sign which welcomes them to the Outer Banks, "Paradise on Earth." John B. narrates for us, because it’s really his story. "It's the sorta place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island." The haves and the have-nots. The set-up for a proper Romeo & Juliet arc, natch. The Pogues, of course, are the underdog have-nots, otherwise we couldn't root for them. Same reason punch-up jokes are more comfortable sources for laughs. Mind you, this whole “have-not” status does not, of course, entail anything so troublesome as our protagonists working two jobs—or even one job, for that matter. They'll have money troubles on this show, but mainly the sort that come from vandalizing thirty-thousand dollar boats, not everyday problems like paying for groceries and gas. Like all great teen dramas, the teens don’t actually go to school or work. The Pogues are on summer vacation, which is why we won’t see any of them in school this season. Not that they’re working summer jobs either. Actual working class lifestyles tend to be monotonous and uneventful, a dynamic incompatible with the Teen Drama’s quota of adventure and sex. A few transcendent cinematic works in our time have squared the difference, see e.g. Adventureland. But the rest make do with fantasy and freedom. Duty, obligation, and constraint regularly rear their head on this show, but only ever as threats. The authorities will keep knocking, threatening to institutionalize our heroes—to ground them, put them in foster care, throw them in jail. But bail is swift, like how broken bones heal overnight, and there is never any prolonged interruption to our characters’ agency.

As the camper van cruises along the Banks, we get introduced to its two cultures—first the privileged “Kooks," with their immaculate marinas, their columnade plantations, their rolling golf courses. (Expensive boats, the legacy of slavery, and the reputation of #45, DJT.) Then the bus crosses a bridge with a middle-aged black man fishing beside a no-fishing sign. (Our ost quintessentially coastal South scene yet, from bayou to pluff mud.) Over the railroad tracks, so to speak. We’re toured around the South Side, "The Cut," with its mobile homes and run-down shacks. Home of the Pogues, our crew in question, so named after "the throwaway fish, lowest member of the food chain." John B: "The downside of pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of pogue life is we're ignored or neglected. Which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want. The crew's hanging on John’s boat, the HMS Pogue: Pope is shirtless in a bucket hat, reading Kafka short stories, a huge black roach adorning the book's cover. Kiara's looking as fine as she ever will, in an olive bikini with African-Mediterranean ornaments and a rusty brown bandana, looking every inch a brown pirate goddess, notwithstanding the orange wired earbuds that pipe music from her smartphone. (What years is this? 2010?) John B., still with his trademark blue bandana and the addition of a baseball cap—backwards, natch—hauls a net full of sardine-sized fish—pogues, we must assume—onto the deck, where they spill out, squirming and suffocating in the closing scene of their short lives. J.J. says they’ll make good bait, a way to undermine the catch. Cycles of food chains: our kooks are “pogues” to kooks higher on the social pecking order—read, elites living anywhere that isn't the Carolinas. And our beloved pogues are kooks to these, more literal, pogues. And so on. That's how food chains work; power and identity are relative and relational concepts, never absolute ones; and there's always a bigger—or smaller—fish.

And now we get the proper introductions, the structure recapitulating the compressive first minute. The structure goes: "We're the Pogues; hear us roar; this here’s Loki; that there’s Thor." Name, role, origin story; difference recognized and ultimately subjugated to collective; everyone’s got a role in the micro-economy of the friend group. We see J.J. mowing the lawn, shirtless, with Calvin Klein abs—then surfing, then taking parts out of car engine. (John B: "Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.") The scene shifts to a kegger; Kiara's lecturing a long-hair with an acoustic guitar and a Solo cup: "Don't even get me started on microplastics..." We see her wearing rose-tinted hippy glasses, which she takes off and puts on J.J. in a little gesture we call "symbolic foreshadowing." "That's Kiara, or Key as we call her, and when she's not saving turtles, or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid actually, foot in both worlds." Rich kid here in context means her dad owns a small fish’n’chips restaurant, a proper mom’n’pop affair with a couple wait staff that brings in annual grosses in the lower six-digits. Finally Pope: "The brains of the operation, finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship, and the smartest person I know." Vanderhorst—like van der Woodsen, one of those names that breathes “Old Money,” Lucas no doubt being a descendent of good old Arnoldus, a South Carolina planter who commanded the local militia and served as state governor in the final years of the 18th century. Pope wants to be a coroner, apparently, and is a bit of an “oddball." "Doesn't matter. He was a Pogue." Once a Pogue, always a Pogue; we get a shot of the Pogues at sunset, staring into the horizon, Kiara the feminine energy that unites them, her spread arms bringing them together in a hug they would never initiate on their own. That's my crew, John B. tells us, shirtless as usual, blue bandana around his neck as usual, a kind of captain-on-shore, a stoic and troubled preacher on the pulpit, an Ahab after lost treasure. To recap: J.J.’s the brawler-cynic cum closet-sweetheart. Pope’s the bookworm and voice of civilization. Kiara’s the heart and conscience. John owns the boat and the hangout spot, provides the energy and narrative arc, and in most other ways is captain. He lives on an "old fish shack on the marsh"—the "Chateau," as his dad used to call it, before he "disappeared at sea." His mom bounced years ago, so it's just him right now, adolescent playing adult, which is another part of the Teen Drama fantasy, cf. Chuck Bass.

But there’s always a bigger fish, and Child Protective Services is threatening to toss him in foster care. They schedule an imminent home visit from authorities—but then John B catches a break. Hurricane Agatha, a maelstrom of disruption, is about to shake up the status quo of the Outer Banks. The power grid will be out for weeks. Authorities and the local PD will be busy handling a thousand other responsibilities. The momentum that was disrupted—as it tries to reassert itself—and the new momentums engineered by the disruption—which struggle to maintain themselves—will drive the story-arc of our show. Some things that were on the surface will be submerged. And some things that were lying submerged will be brought to the surface. And all the opportunities and threats which emerge, and bring us out of routine normalcy into a proper routine-breaking plot, emerge from this one great disruption, the high winds and back-breaking waves of Agatha’s sea-storm.

But all that comes later. For now, it’s just another routine storm, and no one’s sweating it too serious. Pope and John B head out to surf the storm waves; Pope has his reservations—those aren't surfable waves, he protests—but John B bites back "Says who?" and they paddle past the break. This dynamic—this asymmetry in care and concern—is fundamental to understanding the show and how it evolves. It isn’t just that Pope’s more anxious or easily worried; it’s that he literally has more to lose. Half the Pogues—that is, John and J.J.—have nothing to lose. They don’t have families or futures. J.J.’s dad is an abusive alcoholic, which depending on your perspective is only slightly better, or slightly worse, than not having a dad at all. Both moms are out of the picture. Both J.J. and J.B. are academically truant; J.J. has a criminal rap sheet and J.B.’s not far behind. Whereas Pope and Kiara are probably bound for good colleges and solid middle-class jobs. They’re about to be seniors in high school; in a little over a year, Kiara will no doubt be studying marine biology at USD, and Pope will be at Columbia or NYU, wearing black turtlenecks and sipping box wine with future N+1 contributors who will meet his “Metamorphosis” and raise him Amerika. Whereas John and J.J.… will still be here, in the Outer Banks. Catching waves and going to keggers and getting in fist-fights with polo shirts. At least, that’s what would have happened. The friendship will prove more powerful than these life-scripts, and it will be simultaneously beautiful and tragic. That comes later: For now, we’re with Pope and John B as they buck and roll in the waves, catching a few, tossed by others. And we’re with John B when, cresting on his board, he sees an apparition on the horizon, a ghost ship tossing in the wind as it heads out to sea, as the hurricane descends. A confused—even worried—look comes across his face. Title screen: Outer Banks.

#outer banks #jonas pate #chase stokes #rudy pankow #jonathan daviss #madison bailey

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heroes-fading · 1 year

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thank you for answering my question about Inordinary! I'm now imagining how confused some of the in-universe fans of The Last Of Us band would be if they suddenly heard a song ft Ellie Williams and had no idea who she was (I picture it to be like my surprise hearing Bon Iver's deep af voice when first listening to Exile, haha)

i've actually been thinking a lot about The Discourse of the national fans about taylor featuring on their album (their subreddit has been lowkey embarassing) and how tlou-band fans would respond to ellie. i've landed on their reaction as more of their response to phoebe bridgers of "oh that's still alternative enough" in terms of music.

plus i think in-universe there would have been A Lot of media around ellie's trial which would have been the most publicity joel has had in years for being such a present figure during. i imagine some degree of discourse around austin-jackson dropping ellie right after, which would be the point of david pushing it. and the dots would get put together after the article about david and all of the details come out.

overall i think a) ellie would probably bring in more teenagers to listen to the last of us, much to the fanbase's exasperation and eventual acceptance and b) i think the relationship between joel and ellie after that media circus would be so evident that fans would be like damn...less depressed dad!joel is back....this is actually really special.

also makes me think of the nine inch nails/trent reznor and atticus ross collab on halsey's if i can't have love, i want power. another older band in terms of demo + content but holy shit when it works, it really works. i'm a believer in the power of the middle-aged rock band/indie alt girl crossover. insert phoebe bridgers quote about the overlap between middle aged men and teenage girls' music and emotional vulnerability lmao.

also if they didn't get over it i'm pretty sure joel would just pelt them with a pbr, the beer of choice of lesbians and allies. i'm kidding. joel doesn't know what reddit is nor does he care.

#the legolas and gimli meme of "never thought i [alternative middle aged man band fan] would be fighting side by side with [fanbase of teen #alt indie star]#what about side by side with a friend #oh those crowds would be hilarious #it's sad dads #the lgbtq community #women with doc martens #sdkjfasklajdflk #oh the alliance #could be a whole voting block #ask #seriously this is so fun to chat about #fic talk

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casbooks · 1 year

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Books of 2023:

Book 13 of 2023

Title: Up-Close & Personal: In-Country, Chieu Hoi, Vietnam 1969-1970 Authors: Robert C Bogison ISBN: 9781097969142 Tags: AC-47 Spooky, EOD, FSB Dirk (Vietnam War), FSB Schroeder (Vietnam War), III Corps (Vietnam), KHM Cambodia, KHM Cambodian Incursion (1970) (Vietnam War), Military Police, THA RTA Royal Thai Army, UH-1 Huey, US CIA Central Intelligence Agency, US USA 159th Transportation Bn, US USA 159th Transportation Bn - 5th Transportation Co. (Heavy Boat), US USA 18th Military Police Brigade, US USA 1st ID, US USA 212th Military Police Sentry Dog Co, US USA 25th ID, US USA 284th Military Police Co., US USA 39th Infantry Regiment, US USA 39th Infantry Regiment - 2/39, US USA 458th Transportation Corps, US USA 504th Military Police Bn., US USA 504th Military Police Bn. - 188th Military Police Co., US USA 557th Military Police Co., US USA 615th Military Police Co., US USA 716th Military Police Bn., US USA 720th Military Police Bn., US USA 720th Military Police Bn. - B Co. (Bushwhackers), US USA 89th Military Police Group, US USA 90th Replacement Bn, US USA Army Tugboats, US USA Colonel Robert A. Rheault, US USA Combat Trackers - K9, US USA Fort Gordon GA, US USA Fort Leavenworth KS - USDB CTF Correctional Training Facility, US USA Fort Leavenworth KS - USDB United States Disciplinary Barracks, US USA Fort Riley KS, US USA Fort Riley KS - CTF Correctional Traning Facility, US USA PBR Patrol Boat River, US USA Sgt. Alvin Smith, US USA ST 2122 El Cid - Small Harbor Tugboat, US USA United States Army, US USMC United States Marine Corps, USA 5th SFG, USA 9th ID, USA Green Berets, USA Special Forces, VNM 1st ID, VNM An Hoa Hung Village, VNM Bearcat Base / Long Thanh North Airfield (Vietnam War), VNM Bien Hoa, VNM Bien Hoa Airbase (Vietnam War), VNM Camp David Long (Vietnam War), VNM CIA Phung Hoang / Phoenix Program (1965-1972) (Vietnam War), VNM Cu Chi, VNM Cu Lao Ba Xe Leper Colony, VNM Da Nang, VNM Dong Nai Province, VNM Dong Nai Province - Buffalo Shack, VNM Dong Nai Province - Cogido Bridge, VNM Dong Nai Province - Duck Farm, VNM Dong Nai Province - Finger of the Land, VNM Dong Nai Province - French Fort, VNM Dong Nai Province - French Pier, VNM Dong Nai Province - Heel of the Booth, VNM Dong Nai Province - Rabbit Ears, VNM Dong Nai Province - Rice Mill, VNM Dong Nai River, VNM DRV NVA Thai Khac Chuyen / Chu Van Thai Khac, VNM Green Beret Affair (Vietnam War), VNM Highway 1, VNM Hill 15, VNM Hill 85, VNM Lai Khe, VNM LBJ Long Binh Jail - USARVIS US Army Vietnam Installation Stockade (Vietnam War), VNM Long Binh, VNM Long Binh Post (Vietnam War), VNM Michelin Rubber Plantation, VNM Operation Corral (1967) (Vietnam War), VNM Operation Stabilize (1967-1970) (Vietnam War), VNM RVN ARVN Army of the Republic of Vietnam, VNM RVN ARVN MP Quan Canh Military Police, VNM RVN ARVN RF/PF Regional Forces/Popular Forces (Vietnam War), VNM RVN RVNP Can Sat National Police, VNM Song Buong - Black River, VNM Tan Hiep, VNM Tan Mai, VNM US Project Gamma - Det B-57 - E Co (Vietnam War), VNM US USA 24th Evacuation Hospital - Long Binh (Vietnam War), VNM US USA 93rd Evacuation Hospital - Long Binh (Vietnam War), VNM USA MRF Mobile Riverine Force (Vietnam War), VNM Vung Tao Rating: ★★★★★ Subject: Books.Military.20th-21st Century.Asia.Vietnam War.US Army.Military Police Description: The Vietnam War has tormented American consciousness for more than half a hundred years, and shows no sign of flagging. Up-Close & Personal is a signal contribution to understanding that drawn-out conflict from a soldier's point of view, informed by knowledge gained from being "up-close" at the basic, ground-pounding or river-patrolling combat level. The author pulls no punches. Detail is uncompromising, hard, often excruciating. All this amid the tumult of politicized youth on the home front shouting "Make love not War" and "Tune in drop out.

Review: I tend not to give 5 stars to books, as I like to reserve that for books that have a profound effect on me. This book qualifies and let me explain why. It's not a perfect book by any means. There are little errors here and there with spelling and such, plus the story isn't that captivating/page turning thrilling. It can even be a slog at times. So why 5 stars? Because Bogison does what few others can - he really conveys the emotional aspect of his thoughts, his feelings, his mental state, his wrestling with what to do, how to do it, what is right and what is wrong... in big decisions and small. He doesn't just tell the good, but also the bad, he explains the stuff he wrestles with and not everything gets wrapped up nice and clean and with a little bow. When I grabbed this book, I was expecting a story about a Military Police in Vietnam. I was expecting a lot of bar fights, investigations of murder and accidents, regular law enforcement stuff. By the title, I also expected discussion of the Chieu Hoi Program/Force 66 - Luc Luong 66. - Let me be clear, this book has 0 of that... none.. nada... zip zilch... NO. Instead it's a book about an MP who is assigned to correctional facilities in the US (Ft. Riley) and Vietnam (LBJ) and ends up in a very special unit of MP's that is called an Ambush and Recon unit made up of MP's instead of infantryman! Because of the location in the Delta, they also have a joint unit with PBR's and skimmers that he finds himself leading as well. It was fascinating to read, the people, the stories, the bureaucracy, and more was captivating and it left me really thinking about the choices he made and how his personality affected his life's course. His temperament is always to attack, to challenge, to push - even against those who are trying to help him. He either sits quietly or attacks ferociously even when confronted with cooler heads to learn from and imitate - he does neither. Whether it was the helicopter crash, the tug boat incident, or a handful of other stories included, one can't help but really feel what the author felt as he just did his best, and all too often memoirs like this one are more about snippets of stories, or tell you what happened but forget the human element. This one has a consistent narrative and does well to really put you in his boots, and look through his eyes.

#Books #Booklr #Bookblr #Ebooks #Vietnam War #Military Police #III Corps #NonFiction #History

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ashwwa · 2 years

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physicsmeetsphilosophy · 2 years

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Eighth workshop:

Foundations of quantum theory

Venue: Institute of Philosophy, Research Center for the Humanities, Budapest, 1097 Tóth Kálmán u. 4, Floor 7, Seminar room (B.7.16)

Date: September 22, 2022

Organizer: Philosophy of Physics Research Group, Institute of Philosophy

Contact: Gábor Hofer-Szabó and Péter Vecsernyés

The language of the workshop is Hungarian.

The slides of the talks can be found here.

Program:

9.45: Welcome and introduction

10.00: Gábor Hofer-Szabó: Is the quantum state real?

In the talk, I will overview the different arguments for and against the reality of the wave function and revisit the psi-ontic/psi-epistemic debate and the PBR theorem.

11.00: Coffee

11.15: Márton Gömöri: Classicality and Bell's Theorem

Many physicists are unimpressed by Bell's theorem. A widespread view is that Bell's reasoning rests upon assumptions—sometimes referred to as “classicality” or “classical realism”—that directly go against the fundamental principles of quantum mechanics. According to such an understanding, the violation of Bell’s inequalities poses no challenge to our causal picture of the world (locality, in particular), but simply reinforces the fact that quantum mechanics is not classical. The talk will offer a critical discussion of this common view.

12.15: Lunch

13.30: Szilárd Szalay: Quantum correlations

We survey the different kinds of bipartite correlation arising in discrete finite quantum systems: correlation, discord, entanglement, Schrödinger steering and Bell nonlocality. We discuss how these are related to each other, and illustrate them operationally, or at least mathematically.

14.30: Coffee

14.45: Tamás Kiss: Determinism, chaos, quantum mechanics

The great promise of natural sciences is that they can predict future events. Among natural sciences, physics is the one which assumes the existence of the least possible number of elementary things such that it can make experimentally verifiable predictions. (In sharp contrast e.g. to mathematics, which tries to avoid elementary things and use only relations and, of course, it would not like to experimentally test its statements.) This more or less explicit program has achieved great successes since the Renaissance: the idea of determinism pervaded European thought and even globally, diligent STEM teachers strive to put all pupils on the ground of micro-determinism. The idea of determinism, however, sprung a leak from two directions in the past century. First, it turned out that even deterministic, mechanical equations possess solutions which allow for predictions, but a slight change of the initial condition leads to fast increasing deviations in the solution. In other words, the system is practically unpredictable. Then came quantum mechanics, with its inherently probabilistic nature. Here, determinism could only have been saved by paying very high penalties, e.g. giving up localism, which most physicists reject. In this talk, we present a deterministically chaotic quantum protocol, based on measurement and postselection. Each step of our iterative scheme has a chance of not being successful, but in case of success, the pure state of the system remains pure and evolves deterministically. We also consider effects of noise in such a system.

16.15: Get-together at Bálna terasz

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