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#the perennial child
inbarfink · 7 months
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heebiebeebies · 2 years
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Infinity Pain. ♾💔 Screenshot redraw of one of my all-time favorite TV episodes.
I remember watching this episode three years ago and immediately thinking that I’d love to redraw that scene. You see pure joy that was taken away from them.
Okay, so I was actually going to post this drawing tomorrow, but on light of recent events, I’m doing it now. I’m so mad at what’s happening to the show. The episodes, the clips, the music, even the pilot, it’s so infuriating to see it all go away.
Anyways, go watch Infinity Train wherever you can because the legal platform doesn’t care about this amazing show or the wonderful crew.
Thanks for creating something so wonderful, Owen Dennis and crew. 🖤
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yahoo201027 · 8 months
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Day in Fandom History: August 8…
Tulip, One-One, and Atticus make their way through a ball pit car, full of slides and various ball pits, where the three encounter a strange new force that straight-up attacks them during the visit. “The Ball Pit Car” premiered on this day, 4 Years Ago.
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onepiexe · 1 year
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i havent done anything manual labor in so long
#logbook#woke up to my body aching like crazy#. .i miss this feeling. idk when i'll have time bc of work but man. i should exercise.#couldnt pull some plant carts right away in my first week 😭 also yesterday i couldnt lift a box.#i was too short to put it on the shelf is what i said but i was also tired at that point in the day. augh.#i loaded up 2 ladies cars. . .also moved and lifted pots.#plastic but big stacks and some bigger sizes.#today we have a fl+werw++d delivery. wonder what all it is. probably just more perennials.#i figured the ache would go away but i miss my old coworkers so much. . .#and then i remember how long it took for me to stop aching and missing ml while at nnl. . .so yeah. just on top of new work lol#ive had several emps say i look like a kid. which. thanks guys. sorry but when i was 15 i didnt look 25. .#i feel sorry to ppl who look at old when that young tbh. also it makes me go insane bc im p sure most of the younger emps#ARE in fact. younger than me. based on conversations. but nobody believes me 😭#tbf l+wes had a 18+ policy but this nursery is a gen family owned so they hire teens looking for work and work experience.#i dont personally see how anybody can think im -18 bc im working FULL not part time and i'm mon-fri but still.#regardless ive had a guy joke abt child labor laws bc i get in early. and some dude yesterday asked if i was doing hmwk. jesus christ guys.#ok i have to get ready for work 😭 gaia give me patience and reward me plsssssss
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lettucemakar · 1 year
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also Mikko being the middle sibling makes too much sense
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astraltrickster · 2 years
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Periodic reminder that you are not immune to reactionary radicalization through fandom.
We all know the "jokes" about how old bronies either came out as queer or became fascists - except they're not really jokes, and a lot of the queer ones admit to having been in the pipeline before they came out (some in a way that implies they never totally got out of said pipeline and don't understand the gravity of it),
GamerGate was an entire right-wing reactionary movement that was - and this is not hyperbole - partially responsible for turning fascism into a "legitimate" position by the American Overton window, composed entirely of people who feared losing their fan spaces,
We've had terfs right here on tumblr dot com BRAGGING about how useful fandom is as a recruiting space,
TJLC was a big pipeline for acephobia on this hellsite in particular, when people argued that headcanoning Sherlock as ace was inherently homophobic because it was denying a TOTALLY GONNA BE CANON (while the creators were promising that it wasn't going to be canon) gay pairing, and puritanical, and just HAVING that headcanon was saying that people COULDN'T ship Johnlock, all in the interest of a "fake" sexuality and "pretending to be oppressed" and oh whoops there you went,
We see people who all but center their fandom activity and identities around figuring out which people in predominantly queer fandom spaces are SECRETLY PEDOPHILES AND GROOMERS, acting consciously or otherwise under the assumption that predominantly queer fandom spaces are just massively infested with them in a way that other spaces are not for SOME reason, who twist the definition of "pedophilia" in these spaces until it covers shipping a 17-year old fictional character with an 18-year old fictional character, or a 30-year old with a 45-year old, or including an autistic character in a ship, and drawing two 17-year old characters kissing constitutes "child porn", and who unironically say we should bring back the Hays Code and Censorship Is Good Actually And Our Problem Is We Don't Do It Enough and this often becomes a pipeline to "sex ed is child abuse; people shouldn't even know what sex is until they turn 18; you need my consent to wear certain outfits in public if I see them as sexually charged, and Pride SHOULD be an assimilationist sideshow for our corporate overlords family-friendly party with no sadness or anger or ESPECIALLY acknowledgement of sex allowed",
We've seen otherwise progressive people defend literal hate symbols in fanart when pushback against the above brand of reactionaries gets corrupted into zero-nuance "it's us vs. them so anything they don't like is Good",
Even outside of those examples some of the most vicious, unapologetic, blatant queerphobic abuse I've seen in recent years hasn't come from right-wingers but from LGBT+ people, dressing their deep, violent, seething hatred for queer people who aren't exactly like them in a thin veneer of progressive language, who have become so convinced that they're the main character of the fucking universe that they think writing or enjoying a queer story that doesn't resonate with them is more queerphobic than sending a queer person who writes or enjoys such a story countless rape and death threats and denying their identity,
We've seen these examples again and again and again, and we keep seeing it again and again and again, so I am once again on my knees BEGGING people to recognize that this is not Something That Happens To Other, BAD People, or Something That Happens To People In BAD Fandoms, or Something That Happens To People On The OTHER Side Of Perennial Drama; this is something that CAN happen to you.
These things are the result of the fact that fandom is, by nature, a place of heightened emotion and if you don't know what to look out for that is very exploitable; you need to know the methods people use to do this, simply Being In The Right Fandoms or Liking The Right Ships is not enough.
So, if you see someone trying to convince you that you have the ONLY valid approach to any specific character, or ship, or show, or whatever, that your ship is activism and your fanfics are praxis, and liking something else or liking the same thing differently is Only For Bad People, that is the single biggest red flag that YOU NEED TO RUN, THEY'RE TRYING TO SELL YOU SOMETHING THAT YOU DO NOT WANT
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Sex isn't real, not in the ways you think.
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Sex is a spectrum and a social construct... The sex on peoples birth certificates are simply a bureaucratic formality of civil documentation, and are made by a brief visual sighting of external infant genitalia lasting seconds, and regardless the parent not a medical professional apply for the birth certificate in most jurisdictions.
This glance affects the trajectory of your entire life, one of many facets of social sex.
Then sometimes as an example, an infant assigned female at birth has testicles descend at 3-6 months, oh intersex baby... Out comes the scalpel because mum has already been showing her baby girl to the world, friends and family for half a year... The expense of infant surgery is often considered better than embarrassment.
For me, I had streak gonads, a superficial vagina, and a micropenis... Scalpels again, all to enforce a normative sex/gender binary.
You have never known anything about the sex of the majority of the people you have ever met, yet socially you assume that they and you yourself conform to these sex categories without even understanding the diversity of human sexual development. The number of consciously child free people who will never discover they are XX "male" or XY "female", or they have only one sex chromosome or they have three, or that they do not possess ovaries/testes at all, men who don't realise that their perennial abdominal pain is endometriosis, people with PCOS who have spent their lives since adolescence waxing that hair on their chest.
Humans are one thing, the species homo sapiens sapiens, and male and female are demographic cohorts (within the context of developmental biology) that we arrive at by taking the known sexual developments of our species and isolating the maximum number that do occur in one cohort and not the other... And the more we learn about human sexual development that space between the two of other developmental possibilities grows all the time.
Female and male in the sense it is understood in society is a social construct. Sex? in terms of a statistical representation of the known prevalence of sexual developments in the population as a bimodal histogram? That's real in as much as anything in demographic analysis is real.
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Example Of A Variety Of Histograms
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hero-israel · 5 months
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#4 sounds like white people at the end of slavery… “we didn’t want to end it because what if there’s retaliation? There have already been slave riots. Imagine what would happen if we gave them freedom or if we became the minority?” It’s not speculative it actually happened the fears had basis. That’s what number four sounds like. It also feels like you only care about one view point like you expect me to believe y’all are perfect victims that did one thing in retaliation?
#4 sounds like that to you because you are an American who thinks the whole world is America and all history must be the same as yours. So you should start by asking yourself what it is in your cultural upbringing, and what in the media you consume, that has you automatically believing the worst possible claims against Jews, to the point of seeing it as understandable for us to be mass murdered.
Jews did not - and do not - want to live in an Arab or Muslim majority society not because of any issues related to "slave uprisings" you are teleporting into this discussion, but rather because Jews had already been brutally oppressed, persecuted, and genocided by Arabs and Muslims for 1,000+ years before Israel or political Zionism were ever invented. Mohammed himself got his hands dirty with this, wiping out the Jews of Yathrib and renaming the gore-drenched rubble into something called "Medina." No less a source than Maimonides wrote in 1172 "God has entangled us with this people, the nation of Ishmael, who treat us so prejudicially and who legislate our harm and hatred…. No nation has ever arisen more harmful than they, nor has anyone done more to humiliate us, degrade us, and consolidate hatred against us... We bear the inhumane burden of their humiliation, lies and absurdities, being as the prophet said, ‘like a deaf man who does not hear or a dumb man who does not open his mouth’.... Our sages disciplined us to bear Ishmael’s lies and absurdities, listening in silence, and we have trained ourselves, old and young, to endure their humiliation, as Isaiah said, ‘I have given my back to the smiters, and my cheek to the beard pullers.’”
Because there is a long history of this, there is much you can read about it, if you care.
Some very random examples:
The "badge of shame" was invented in medieval Baghdad, only later migrating to Europe
Life for Jews in Yemen: The Jews of Yemen were treated as pariah, third-class citizens who needed to be perennially reminded of their submission to the ruling faith…The Jews were considered to be impure, and therefore forbidden to touch a Muslim or a Muslim’s food. They were obliged to humble themselves before a Muslim, to walk on his left side, and to greet him first. They were forbidden to raise their voices in front of a Muslim. They could not build their houses higher than the Muslims’ or ride a camel or horse, and when riding on a mule or donkey, they had to sit sideways. Upon entering a Muslim quarter, a Jew had to take off his footgear and walk barefoot. No Jewish man was permitted to wear a turban or carry the Jambiyyah (dagger), which was worn universally by the free tribesmen of Yemen. If attacked with stones or fist by Islamic youth, a Jew was not allowed to defend himself. Further, the Jews were forced to wear sidelocks or peots. The wearing of such long and dangling peots “was originally a source of great shame for the Yemenites. It was decreed by the imams to distinguish the Jews from the Muslims”. More degrading and insulting decrees to the Jews were the Atarot (Headgear) and Latrine Decrees. The former was a seventeenth-century decree forbidding the Jews to wear a headcovering or turbans. The Latrine Decree was a nineteenth-century edict in which the Jews were forced to clean out public toilets and remove animal dung and carcasses from the streets. Another discriminatory edict was the Orphan Decree which gave the Zaydis the right to convert to Islam any child under the age of thirteen whose father is dead. Further, evidence by a Jew against a Muslim was invalid and a “Jew was forbidden to pass a Muslim to his right, and whoever did so, even unwittingly, could be beaten without trial; the Jews were forbidden to make their purchases before the Muslims had completed theirs; a Jew entering the house of an Arab or the office of an official was only allowed to sit down in the place where the shoes were removed” . Tudor Parfitt summarizes some of these laws in the following: [the Jews] were required not to insult Islam, never strike a Muslim, or to impede him in his path. They were not to assist each other in any activity against a Muslim…They were not to build new places of worship or repair existing one…They were not to pray too noisily or hold public religious processions. They were not to wink. They were not to proselytize. They were not to bear arms. They were required to dress in a distinctive fashion in order not to be mistaken for a member of the Muslim occupying forces. In other words dhimmis had all the times to behave themselves in an unostentatious and unthreatening manner, one appropriate to a defeated and humbled subject people. They were to avoid the slightest show of triumphalism and they were forbidden any activity that could lead to proselytization. Yemenite Jews were “excluded as it almost always…from affairs of state, and from the great institutions of the country”
1941 Farhud pogrom (Iraq)
1929 Hebron Massacre ("They cut off hands, they cut off fingers, they held heads over a stove, they gouged out eyes. A rabbi stood immobile, commending the souls of his Jews to God – they scalped him. They made off with his brains. On Mrs. Sokolov’s lap, one after the other, they sat six students from the yeshiva and, with her still alive, slit their throats. They mutilated the men. They shoved thirteen-year-old girls, mothers, and grandmothers into the blood and raped them in unison....")
1921 Jaffa Riots
1920 Nebi Musa Riots
1910 Shiraz Blood Libel (Iran) ("In the middle of the 19th century, J. J. Benjamin wrote about the life of Persian Jews: "…they are obliged to live in a separate part of town…; for they are considered as unclean creatures… Under the pretext of their being unclean, they are treated with the greatest severity and should they enter a street, inhabited by Mussulmans, they are pelted by the boys and mobs with stones and dirt… For the same reason, they are prohibited to go out when it rains; for it is said the rain would wash dirt off them, which would sully the feet of the Mussulmans… If a Jew is recognized as such in the streets, he is subjected to the greatest insults. The passers-by spit in his face, and sometimes beat him… unmercifully… If a Jew enters a shop for anything, he is forbidden to inspect the goods… Should his hand incautiously touch the goods, he must take them at any price the seller chooses to ask for them... Sometimes the Iranians intrude into the dwellings of the Jews and take possession of whatever please them. Should the owner make the least opposition in defense of his property, he incurs the danger of atoning for it with his life... If... a Jew shows himself in the street during the three days of the Katel (the start of Muharram)…, he is sure to be murdered")
1840 Damascus Blood Libel (Syria)
1839 Allahdad Pogrom (Iran)
1834 Hebron Massacre
1834 Looting of Safed
1700 Jerusalem oppression / apartheid: ("Muslims are very hostile to Jews and inflict upon them vexations in the streets of the city… the common folk persecute the Jews, for we are forbidden to defend ourselves against the Turks or the Arabs. If an Arab strikes a Jew, he (the Jew) must appease him but dare not rebuke him, for fear that he may be struck even harder, which they (the Arabs) do without the slightest scruple...")
1679 Mawza Exile (Yemen)
1660 Destruction of Safed
1500s Iran: ("After the ascension of Shah ‘Abbas II the Jews of Isfahan faced a lot of persecution. Most communities were forced to convert to Islam. Furthermore those who refused to convert would have most of their inheritance taken away as the inheritance laws at the time allowed for those who converted to Shia Islam to inherit the property of non-Muslim family members. Some communities did not convert and were thus forced to wear a special badge to show that they were Jewish. The maltreatment of the Jews weakened their community ties and influence throughout the region. By 1889 there were only around four hundred Jewish families left in Isfahan and most very poor.... by the middle 20th century 80% of the Jews of Isfahan lived on the verge of poverty.")
There's so much more I really don't know where to start or where to end. Afghanistan revoked all Jewish citizenship in 1933. Turkey banned all Jewish names and held massive antisemitic pogroms in 1934. Iraq banned Hebrew schools and Hebrew names in 1936, pogroms throughout Libya 1945, Syria fired all Jewish government employees 1946. Tripoli pogrom 1785. Algiers 1805. Cairo 1844. Istanbul 1870. Safed 1517 and 1799. Jerusalem 1665 and 1720. Granada Massacre 1066. Fez Massacre 1033. How many Wiki links do you want, how many textbooks?
This is an old, old conflict, and the Americanized "colonizer / slave plantation" frame is off-topic.
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notroosterbradshaw · 6 months
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My Father's Eyes - prologue
about: Bradley comes to terms with growing up without a father to guide him while quickly adapting to become one himself… to a child who wants nothing more than not to have him in her life.
word count: 2.5k
warnings: nsfw 18+, language, angst, fluff, smut [...probably]. no posting schedule.
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You slipped your phone carefully into your backpack, cursing low. It hadn't stopped blowing up since you took the opportunity to unwind a little with a few after-work drinks. You were generally an automatic no, so giving the affirmative to a question perennially asked just to be polite was met with more confusion than excitement - you weren't sure how it made you feel. Your social skills felt like they were severely lacking (not to mention the pop culture references you were behind on unless it was, of course, Taylor Swift)... You simply weren't social anymore. 
You mostly tolerated your work associates, they were all friendly, smart, and considerate, but come Friday, you were on your time and couldn't wait to get home to start your weekend. You had wine, pizza and TV to catch up on and it would be perfect. Basic in its simplicity and you didn't care what anyone else thought.
"One more drink," your co-workers begged. 
"Let loose, we never get to hang out aside from work," they added.
And while you were having a pretty good night, you had other reasons to be home - 
But the revelry was about to end as hoots and hollers of patrons in the bar overcame a raucous Friday night crew as a group of sailors walked in. Grand in their whites, gleaming, broad grins, covers and sunglasses in the dim, overcrowded room. Your eyes scanned each one like they always did when moments like this materialised. 
Your heart rate elevated, and the hairs on your arm pricked up. Hands clammy - 
The warning signals in your brain were firing louder than an air raid siren. That face you never expected to see again among that crowd, and it was more handsome than you could even recall.
Bradley Bradshaw. Your first... everything. Young and dumb, you fell head over heels for that boy with his head in the clouds and that impish grin. He who dreamed big, much bigger than you ever could imagine.
Tall, broad, tanned, unassuming. He was surreal, it felt like a dream how he’d just returned your life without warning. This wasn’t his hometown, so you knew he was here for work. A nightmare occurred even as you rose from your place at the small cocktail table and started making your apologies for the drink just placed before you, reaching eagerly for your bag and other random belongings you’d whipped out. 
That you had to get home, "Oh, look at the time - " that you had to go - 
You had to just get the hell out of The Hard Deck. You knew better, even if the time to now had been on your side in previous ventures to the joint. 
The crowd swarmed them, and you took your opportunity to try and get out without being noticed. You knew Bradley had no idea you would be there. The beautiful man was immediately surrounded by striking women all vying for his attention, and although he appeared to enjoy it, he was keeping them all at bay. You could see that from your safe distance.
But that last tequila had done you in and you had to get to the bathroom before you got into the Uber - while you weren't feeling the effects of the alcohol, you felt could be ill at any moment. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hissed to yourself, slamming the cubicle door after you, the safety of the bathroom gave you small comfort but it relieved the feeling of someone standing on your chest in any way. 
Sitting, you had no choice but to overhear the gossip of the sudden arrival of the newly decorated squad who had just entered the place, sending the bar into a tizzy.
“ - Hangman is blonder - " 
" - suave Coyote was - "
"I don't know how Natasha can be around such sexy men all the time."
"Come on, she's as talented, and dear god, she as hot as them. Don't discount her rank because of some guys. I’m sure she deals with pissing contests 24/7.”
You silently cheered for the last person's comment, whoever this Natasha was. Good for her. 
But no mention of Bradley. 
"It's like the Navy put together the sexiest aviators they had - " this person was also right. They always grandstanded like they were in movies. And tonight, even Bradley.
Flushing, you pulled yourself together and made a hasty exit strategy in your brain as you furiously washed and dried your hands. The closest door from the bathroom was also the furthest from the pool table and you were in luck as you heard the roar and the familiar opening keys to Jerry Lee Lewis' Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On.
Come on over, baby, whole lotta shakin' goin' on, Yes, I said come on over, baby, baby, you can't go wrong...
And abruptly, you were young, dumb and 21 again. Falling for this schtick then and, by God, his voice deeper than it was and you could swear, better. Sexier. Older. Bolder. Not your shy, quiet reserved college boy on his summer vacation in San Diego... but look at you now, falling for this schtick again. The way he could sway people on full display as the crowd and his friends/teammates, how were you to know, tumbled over each other at the grubby old piano you’d never seen touched to now to spread the revelry with him.
"My old man listened to this album so much when I was a kid," Bradley said quietly, delicately handing the cover to you as he wandered over to the old turntable he'd mentioned was also his father's and you watched him intently. He could make you listen to white noise or nails on a blackboard and you’d be enthralled with it. "I don't have too much of his stuff," he explained, considerate as he dropped the pin on the record tenderly. "But this song," he laughed quietly as Great Balls of Fire filled his small room of the share house he stayed at that school break. "We sang this song a lot as a family. Please don’t hold it against me, I’m very aware Lewis was a fuckin’ creep of a dude,” and you couldn’t resist your smile as he offered you his hand and danced with him. 
And how often that summer that hand lead you down a garden path of trouble. 
You probably hadn't listened to Jerry Lee Lewis since it reminded you too much of him. And of course, the artist was controversial at best, just like Bradley said but you’d never, ever forgotten the words.
And as you headed towards the door, the need to see Bradley Bradshaw just one more time overwhelmed you. His jacket stripped and sleeves of his crisp, white shirt rolled to his thick golden forearms, the collar on his shirt strained around the thick ropes of muscles of his neck and throat as his cheeks pinked in the hot room. 
Aviators sliding down his strong nose in the exhilaration of being the centre of attention. He was thriving off it. 
He was as handsome as the day you met him. The way he captured your attention as he retrieved the football that landed near your beach bag that fateful day. His soft voice of apology as his buddies teased him down play. He apologised on their behalf and asked if he could make it up to you   The way he handled the room funny to you, your once shy, quiet boy now commanding the group at the bar, singing with him, vying for his attention... singing to just get that small piece of his time. 
Home soon kiddo. Hope you had a good night with Amelia, you texted quickly.
As the song ended and the place erupted again in enraptured applause, you slinked out as more sailors slipped in and took in a deep breath, the humid beach air filling your lungs and you called for the quickest car to get you home safely... to safety. 
"Hey," you heard the voice behind you. You were so fucking close to the car... so close to escaping without a trace... but just like the old days, his voice warming you to your bones. But you couldn't bring yourself to look at him, even as he gently took your wrist and guided your body towards his. "Holy shit," you heard the small flutter of laughter in a bubble against his lips. “It is you.” He was clearly as shocked as you were. 
The softness in his rough rasp. It had haunted the better part of the last 14, 15 or so years. Dreams, nightmares. 
You were so close to breaking free of the bar without him seeing you - but that was the thing about Bradley Bradshaw. In his quiet calm, he was always watching. 
...bringing yourself to raise your eyes to him was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do. To his warm, humoured honey ones, his grin just melted you like it always had. So much about him had changed, the moustache you were perplexed about. Some faint scars marred his handsome face that you didn’t recall but they certainly didn’t look new (even if new to you). They gave him a light ruggedness, maturing him. But you could only compare him to the senior in college, eagerly awaiting his acceptance into the Naval Academy. 
And he was big. Taller, broader, stronger. BIG. 
And white certainly was his shade. He chewed his lower lip, and you were reminded of the charming boy who left you all those years ago. The man now before you who didn’t even know he had changed the course of your life.
"Hello, Bradley," you finally said, and he stood to height, the recognition in your voice as you tried to keep his gaze. His tongue tracked his upper lip and he finally smiled, not the smug arrogance on display as he and his team ponied in earlier, but the sweet genuineness that was simply Bradley. 
"Hi," he swallowed. "Been a long time," he reckoned. 
"Yeah," you agreed. 
"Looks like time has been good to you," he said, low, appreciatively.
And you laughed as he visibly relaxed, the flirt enough to break you. You weren't sure if he was trying anything, but the air was finally making it to your lungs. 
"You still livin' around here?" 
You gave a soft nod. "Yeah." 
"I'm just in town a few days," he admitted as you nodded. "I - my team and I - were just promoted. Lieutenant Commander."
"This why you're all dressed up - or were?"
"My whites?" he asked.
"I saw you come in."
"And yet you tried to sneak out before you said hi," he teased.
"I'm sorry," you admitted. "But congrats on your promotion. Kind of a big deal?"
"Yeah," he said softly. "Kind of." 
Hearing the knocks on the glass, his attention was demanded back inside. Relief swept through you as he shooed them away with a swift flick of the bird and they howled inside but left him to his devices.
"How about coffee this weekend? It would be great to catch up," Bradley pressed. "Find out what you've been up to. Husband, family, work. All that stuff."
"Ha," your voice faltered. "I'm pretty sure it's nowhere near as exciting as yours," you forced a laugh, and he really didn't seem to take the hint. His pout at your near rejection only seemed to spur him on further.
"One coffee and I'll get back on the boat and be out of your life forever," his lips quirked, and you remembered how you felt when he made that face without the moustache. He could get away with a lot then, just like he was getting away with it now. "Look... here's my number," he urged, holding out this hand as you sighed and unlocked your phone to enter the digits. You saw how he'd saved it.
Bradley Bradshaw (a big deal?). You had to laugh as he winked, relieved for the smile that crossed your features but you weren't sure if he was offended or not when you didn't offer yours in reply. 
"Kind of a big deal," you confirmed with a giggle, those nerves bubbling under the surface rapidly now. He shrugged, the cheekiness of the boy you knew still evident in the man before you.
"Text me if you wanna catch up. I wanna hear about what you've been up to since graduation all those years ago. I fly back to Virginia Tuesday."
"Fleeting."
"Very much," he agreed. Sighing (with relief, but Bradley would never catch that), your Uber was right before you. He moved around you to open the passenger door. "Been a long time..."
"Longer than you know," you admitted, slipping into the car and he carefully closed the door behind you as the driver recalled your address and you left Bradley Bradshaw for what you hoped was the last time. 
Your fingers itched to delete his number, but all you had to do was get through the next few days without the temptation to text him and it would be fine. 
Life would go on and he's sail off into the sunset again like he promised.
Home ten or so minutes later, you made a beeline for upstairs. The bedroom door closed and silent from the other side. You pushed your way in quietly, the room dark, and you sat on the side of the bed, your hands drifting to the mess of dirty dark blonde curls splayed across your daughter's pillow as she read on her phone with her earphones on.
"Hi, sweetheart," you whispered, gently pushing back a tendril on your daughter's forehead. "Bedtime?" you suggested as she shrugged. Ahh, teens. You kissed her forehead before standing and leaving her room, your beautiful girl protected under the snuggly covers. 
You didn't know how you were going to tell her that you saw her father tonight. After all these years and radio silence, doing what you could to protect her from the hurt you knew you'd caused by keeping this very real secret from Bradley. 
"Shit," you muttered, wandering the hallway to your bedroom, your nerves shot, hot tears threatening and everything you'd done so well protecting to now... about to shatter into a million pieces with the return of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw.
masterlist.
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A/N: the tag list no longer exists. To keep up to date, give @notroosterbradshaw-library a follow x
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melociraptor · 1 year
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“For a child, most of cleaning is enduring the boredom and trudging tedium of a task that is not immediately rewarding. Cleaning is perennial; there is always more cleaning to be done and the things that you clean never stay clean, so it’s particularly loathsome to children.”
- Brennan Lee Mulligan in Worlds Beyond Number, accidentally taking about ADHD
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treeroutes · 4 months
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what's up ! non-exhaustive list of stories featuring weird plants :
The Day of the Triffids, John Wyndham
The Night of the Triffids, Simon Clark
In the Tall Grass, Stephen King and Joe Hill
The Boats of the 'Glen Carrig', William Hope Hodgson
The Man Whom the Trees Loved, Algernon Blackwood
The Red Tree, Caitlín R. Kiernan
Annihilation, Jeff VanderMeer
The Willows, Algernon Blackwood
The Nature of Balance, Tim Lebbon
'Bloom', John Langan
The Ruins, Scott Smith
The Wise Friend, Ramsey Campbell
'The Green Man of Freetown', The Envious Nothing : A Collection of Literary Ruins, Curtis M. Lawson
The Beauty, Aliya Whiteley
The Ash-Tree, M.R. James
Canavan's Backyard, J.P. Brennan
Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Jack Finney
The Hollow Places, T. Kingfisher
'Reaching for Ruins', Crow Shine, Alan Baxter
'Vortex of Horror', Gaylord Sabatini
Hothouse, Brian W. Aldiss
Vaster than Empires and More Slow, Ursula K. Le Guin
Odd Attachment, Ian M. Banks
Deathworld #1, Harry Harrison
The Bridge, John Skipp and Craig Spector
'The Garden of Paris', Eric Williams
Apartment Building E, Malachi King
The Seed from the Sepulchre, Clark Ashton Smith
Rappaccini's Daughter, Nathaniel Hawthorne
The Nursery, Lewis Mallory
The Other Side of the Mountain, Michel Bernanos
The Vegetarian, Han Kang
Sisyphean, Dempow Torishima
The Root Witch, Debra Castaneda
Semiosis, Sue Burke
The Wolf in Winter, Charlie Parker #12, John Connolly
Perennials, Bryce Gibson
Relic, Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
Gwen, in Green, Hugh Zachary
The Voice in the Night, William Hope Hodgson
Ordinary Horror, David Searcy
The Family Tree, Sheri S. Tepper
The Book of Koli, Rampart Trilogy #1, M.R. Carey
Seeders, A.J. Colucci
Concrete Jungle, Brett McBean
The Plant, Stephen King
Anthologies/collections :
The Roots of Evil: Weird Stories of Supernatural Plants, edited by Michel Parry
Chlorophobia: An Eco-Horror Anthology, edited by A.R. Ward
Roots of Evil: Beyond the Secret Life of Plants, edited by Carlos Cassaba
The Green Man: Tales from the Mythic Forest, edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling
Sylvan Dread: Tales of Pastoral Darkness, Richard Gavin
Evil Roots: Killer Tales of the Botanical Gothic, edited by Daisy Butcher
Weird Woods: Tales From the Haunted Forests of Britain, edited by John Miller
'But fungi aren't plants' :
The Fungus, Harry Adam Knight
Growing Things and Other Stories, Paul Tremblay
The Girl with All the Gifts, M.R. Carey
Mexican Gothic, Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Fruiting Bodies, and Other Fungi, Brian Lumley
'The Black Mould', The Age of Decayed Futurity, Mark Samuels
What Moves the Dead, T. Kingfisher
The House Without a Summer, DeAnna Knippling
Mungwort, James Noll
Fungi, edited by Orrin Grey and Silvia Moreno-Garcia
Trouble with Lichen, John Wyndham
Notes :
all links lead to the goodreads page of the book, mostly because i like to look at book cover art ;
list features authors/books that i love (T. Kingfisher, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Ursula K. Le Guin, the collections from the British Library Tales of the Weird, etc.), but also a few that i don't like and some that i have not yet read ;
if upon seeing that list the first novel you check out is by Stephen King's you have not understood the assignment ;
not all of those are strictly horror stories, some are 100% science fiction (Brian W. Aldiss' Hothouse for instance).
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puccadraws · 1 year
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The Perennial Child
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teyums · 1 year
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The Way He Loves You ✽ Neteyam
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Neteyam and the way he holds you when you’re upset. Pulling you close and caressing your back to ease your body’s shuddering while you cry into his awaiting shoulder. Stroking the backs of your hands with the pads of his thumbs as he listens with open ears and gentle eyes, even if the reason for your distress is the most ridiculous he’s ever heard. It’s the way he’s so validating of your feelings, urging you to express your troubles to him. Because to Neteyam, your problems are his problems. He never wants you to go through anything alone, constantly reassuring you that he’s here for the long haul, no matter what. “What is it, my love? Tell me, I want to help.” He says.
Neteyam and the way he traces slow circles over the soft skin of your hips with delicate fingers, while the two of you lay together, contently bundled up in each other’s arms. Chirping birds and perennial sounds of the verdant nature surround your hut, threatening to lull you into a brief afternoon nap. You pull away only slightly when you feel an unfamiliar pattern drawn onto your body, this one allowing his touch to linger longer than the others. His heart flutters when he hears your delicate voice question the intricate details of his artwork. “What did you write?” you ask, and he smiles. “I love you.” He says.
Neteyam and the way he can’t go a single moment of the day without thinking of you. His little flower, as he would call you. The thought of you embracing him in a tight, yet tender hug envelops his thoughts completely, and he often finds himself daydreaming of being in your arms. His peers poke fun at him for it. During target practice, it’s obvious that his mind is somewhere in the clouds when he fumbles with his bow for the first time since a child. “Thinking about her, huh?” They laugh, teasingly. And he grins, shaking his head with not an ounce of shame present in his demeanor. “Always.” He says.
Neteyam and the way he won’t return from a hunting trip without bringing back something special for you. Whether it be the rare lotus flowers that sit atop the highest mountain on Pandora— that he swears would look lovely woven between your braids— or the pearlescent crystals that hide in the deepest, darkest cave that many won’t even attempt to enter. He’ll stray from the group only for a moment. Squeezing himself through tight rocks as they graze and scrape at his skin, or eagerly climbing from tree to tree after a long day’s hunt, even though the branches are getting thinner and frighteningly less supportive on his way up. “Neteyam, come on man! Are you serious?” His group groans as they hunch from the weight of heavy catches slung over their shoulders, earning nothing but a chaste wave off from the dedicated man ahead of them. “Just give me a minute! I need to get these for her.” He says.
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a/n: the way this has been sitting in the drafts for like 3 weeks i’m a gatekeeper ik im sorry LOL
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yahoo201027 · 8 months
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Day in Fandom History: August 8…
Tulip, One-One, and Atticus come across a car where everything is chrome and can see their reflections on the surface with Tulip’s reflection switching places with her and gaining the attention of the police. “The Chrome Car” premiered on this day, 4 Years Ago.
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fruiitlins · 2 years
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the perennial child
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bat-cat-reader · 1 month
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How cute Alex Vlahos. His wife is a civilian like another man whit a perennial hat, but that does not prevent him from sharing a beautiful photo of the hands of the three of them, because in the birth of a child there must be two adults and in the photo of another birth, the baby could consider himself an orphan of a father :( :( :(
Estoy contigo anon, un trio de manos felices es mucho mas indicativo del amor hacia ese feliz acontecimiento, papá, mamá y el bebé. El que hubiese aparecido un pulgar o una mano mas en la otra foto no implicaba invadir ninguna privacidad pero si darle el sitio a esa segunda persona que se supone que tiene que tener en la vida de niño. Pero vamos a ser malpensadas, ciertos dedos y ciertos puños son demasiado conocidos del fandom así que mejor evitar comparaciones y que por esa misma regla de el trés podían haber sentenciado hacia un lado u otro.
Que ocasión mas desperdiciada👊
I'm with you anon, a trio of happy hands is much more indicative of the love towards that happy event, dad, mom and the baby. The fact that an extra thumb or hand had appeared in the other photo did not imply invading any privacy, but it did mean giving room to that second person that he is supposed to have in his life as a child. But we are going to be wrong, certain fingers and certain fists are too well known in the fandom so it is better to avoid comparisons and that by that same rule of three they could have sentenced one side or the other.
What a wasted opportunity.👊
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alexvlahosofficial y
jvanrhijn
So, we made a human. Welcome River Paul Vlahos to the world 💫
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caitrionabalfe
I’ve been off socials for a while as I was taking some time to enjoy cooking up this little human …. We are so grateful for this little soul ….that he chose us as his parents. I’m in awe of him already and can’t help stare and wonder at all the possibilities of who he will become, where he will go and what he’ll do on the big adventure of his life. Right now he seems so small and fragile and I constantly think how grateful I am that I live in a place, in a time where he is born into peace and safety and yet at the same time I see so many in the world right now that aren’t afforded that same privilege and opportunity … who are born into famine or war and how unjust it is that the same safety isn’t there for all children. Here in the west we have so much, we are so lucky and so if you’d like to join me in supporting any of the wonderful charities that need help trying to give those that are forgotten dignity and hope, we can give the gift of peace and safety and opportunity to a few more children … @wchildcancer @chooselove @unicef @refugees 💙
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