Here is a little bit of quotes, occasional book rants, and a lot of revolving of things I enjoy. It's the internet, theatre, movies, books, pop culture, tv, and social media. Welcome.
Gonna take this moment to be extremely grateful for the ao3 team behind the scenes, as much as I complain, please take your time, we are forever grateful to you 🫵🫡🫡🫡🫡
Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.
Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But she longed for children.
She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and followed all their advice, but no child came.
So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest, to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into the old well there, and she wished for a child.
“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice, a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”
She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may set conditions.”
“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”
“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”
“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate, plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You will have what you ask for.”
(Roombaverse, all the ladies. All of these ficlets will be tagged Sci's Fluffuary)
“All right, does everyone have their assignments?”
“If you try to give me an assignment, Lewis, I will see to it that you’re transferred to the legal office,” Maria said, the words gritted out from between clenched teeth.
“Noooooo,” Darcy said, her head falling to the side. “I’d hate it there. They know all the rules and actually expect you to follow them.”
“And the lawyers will hate having you there, but I swear to God, I’ll fake a paralegal degree for you myself and exile you,” Maria said. Beside her, Pepper started to giggle, and Maria gave her a look. “Do you want her?”
“I would take her in a New York minute,” Pepper said, tipping her oversized sunglasses forward to peek at Maria over the rims. Maria glanced in her direction, and Pepper smiled. “Don’t try to bluff me, Hill, I’ll raise every single time.”
Maria’s lips twitched. “Remind me not to play poker against you.” She checked her side mirror, and merged into traffic. “Why are you trying to hand out assignments?”
“We have a lot of ground to cover, and only like-” Darcy checked her phone. “Nine hours? We need to be efficient about this.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed in the rearview mirror. “Nine hours.”
“Right,” Jane said. She opened her massive shoulder bag, pulling out a meticulously organized set of folders. She flipped open the top one. “Do you think we should split up?”
“Booooo,” Bobbi said from the far back seat. “I am not here for the event, I am here for the girltime, I’m not doing this alone. I refuse.”
“I refuse to spend nine hours with Bobbi,” Natasha said, and Bobbi gave a melodramatic gasp.
Darcy twisted around in her seat. “Settle down back there, girls, or AD Hill will turn this minivan right around.”
“Nine hours,” Maria said again.
Pepper studied her, taking a long, audible sip from her cup. Finally, she put the cup down. “You don’t know where we’re going, do you?”
Maria’s hands tightened on the wheel, her shoulders shifting forward. “I know where we’re going, in case you missed it, I’m driving.”
Pepper tapped the dashboard. “You’re following an address Darcy put into the navigation system, I saw her put it in before you showed up, and you might be driving, but you have no idea where we’re going, do you?”
“She doesn’t,” Darcy said, fishing around on the floor for the paper bag that held their breakfast. “I didn’t invite her.”
Jane looked at Darcy. Her hair was jammed under a baseball hat, and Darcy was pretty sure she was wearing one of Thor’s sweatshirts. “What-”
“Doctor G said if we invited her, she’d say no,” Darcy said, offering Jane her box of French toast sticks. “But if we requisitioned a minivan and put down why, she’d show up and insist on coming.”
“What,” Maria said.
“You fell for that?” Natasha asked, glee spiking through her words. “A trap that glaringly obvious?”
“I did not-”
“No, she wouldn’t have fallen for that,” Ana said, her head back, one foot propped on the arm of Darcy’s seat. “That’s why I told Darcy to book the van under Jane’s name.”
“Wait, you can do that?” Jane asked Darcy.
Darcy stared at her. “Jane. I book your plane flights. Your hotels. Your speaking engagements. I submit your expense reports. Why do you think I can’t book SHIELD services for you? I’m the department admin, I could change your insurance info and your beneficiary on your insurance policy if I really wanted to be evil, and you’re worried about me putting in a request for the hagwagon?”
“The what now?” Bobbi asked. She was still in pajama pants.
Darcy fished her bagel sandwich out of the bag and passed it back. “The. Hag. Wagon.”
Maria held up a hand and everyone went silent. “It is five thirty in the goddamn morning. On a Sunday. I haven’t had a day off in three weeks. And I’m driving a minivan to New Jersey, and I am here because you need adult supervision-”
Ana sat up. “Bull. Shit,” she singsonged. “If we had asked, you would’ve said no. You would be at work for the 22nd day in a row. And if Darcy had booked the van, you would’ve known it was a trap. But we booked in Jane’s name, which set of an alarm you absolutely have, because now instead of trying to call your attention to it, we were trying to cover for what we were doing, and that double bluff is enough to get you into the driver’s seat of a late model minivan with a bunch of women you keep claiming are not your friends. Because blah, blah, blah.” Her head swung back and forth.”Lone wolf, girlboss, hardass, etc, etc.”
She leaned forward. “Next time, we will invite you. And you will say?”
“Fuck you,” Maria said, but she was smiling, just a little. “Where are we going?”
“The largest thrift and vintage sale on the eastern seaboard,” Darcy said.
“Huh.” Maria nodded. “That’s… Better than I expected.”
Darcy held out a croissantwich. “Egg, avocado and heirloom tomato?” Maria took it, and Darcy was pretty sure that meant that she wasn’t going to end this road trip shoved in a car compactor somewhere in Jersey. “So. Now that we’re all on the same page, what are we looking for?
Pepper didn’t look up from the notebook in her lap. “Vintage Coach, pre-2000, preferably crossbody and clutch bags, but I’m open to anything in reasonable condition.” She held up a hand, her fountain pen gleaming in the low light. “Dig up anything in a the lower green tones and I will pay you a finder’s fee.”
Darcy’s lips pursed. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Pepper has her assignments.”
“No, you all have my assignment.” Pepper twisted around in her seat, gesturing with the pen. “I want new purses.”
“I do love a good hunt,” Natasha mused, peeling back the foil on her breakfast sandwich. “I’m looking for Captain America memorabilia.”
There was a long moment of silence. Maria sighed. “Can you go five minutes without sowing chaos?”
Natasha took a big bite of her croissant, and chewed with a great deal of care. “No,” she said at last.
“For Clint or Phil?” Darcy asked.
Nat’s teeth flashed. “Depends on what I want.”
“If you’re going for money, Tony is the correct target,” Pepper said, sipping her coffee.
“Interesting,” Natasha said, licking her thumb. “The thought had occurred to me, but honestly? Cutting a deal with Stark is usually too much trouble.”
“Tell me about it,” Pepper said, adjusting her oversized sunglasses.
“Steve’s going to kill you,” Bobbi mumbled. She took a long draw from her iced coffee, her cheeks sucking in with the force. “I want a slinky dress.”
“Vintage? Modern? Colors?” Jane asked, scribbling in her folder.
“Fits my ass, everything else is negotiable,” Bobbi said, leaning over the back of Jane’s seat. “But red’s nice.”
“Medical equipment,” Ana said. “Pre-1900s preferred, I’ve been looking for a civil war era bone saw for forever.” She took a bite of her donuts. “Also ceramic unicorn figures.”
“I’d like to change seats now,” Bobbi said.
“I’ve found German produced turn of the century glassware,” Jane said to Ana. “And one time? A full centrifuge.”
“Goddamn, I would’ve done it, sterilizing equipment that could legitimately kill you? Who could resist?”
“Everyone. Everyone can resist,” Darcy said. “What about you, bosslady? What do you want to hunt for?”
“My sanity,” Maria said. Her fingertips drummed on the steering wheel. “And Pyrex.”
“Excellent choices.” Darcy held up the bakery box. “Who wants rugelach?”
A photographer for Getty isn't even a journalist so much as an archivist. ICE violently disrupted the apolitical documentation of what they were doing, violating any and all rights that might flimsily stand in their way. It would have been just as wrong had they done this to an MSNBC reporter hellbent on a spin, but now Abernathy's neutral action as a photographer has been rendered necessarily political by ICE's violence.
They know what they're doing is objectively evil. They have no intention of stopping.
they got way more on camera too. lookit this shit. source
they knock him down from behind, they're kneeling on him, and they've set off tear gas. his arms are pinned under him and he can't breathe. look at this photo of his face.
I'm gagging and literally thought I’m going to pass out. I couldn’t breathe. I was thinking I only have a couple of breaths left and I don’t know what’s going to happen after that. I had taken that last shot and I threw my camera. I lifted my head up and saw one photographer taking photos. I threw my camera and then I threw my phone.
this last picture is his camera on top of his citation.
but the insane thing? yk how he said
I had taken that last shot and I threw my camera.
THIS IS THE LAST SHOT
THIS is the photo he took before he threw his camera. how poignant.
check out the article source too, it's a really good read.
If you're wondering why I haven't been around much, surprise! | live in South Minneapolis where things have been pretty bad. BUT my South Minneapolis friends and neighbors have been wonderful. I love my neighborhood and my city. We keep us safe.
For Minnesota residents, Defend612 has some great resources in the links.
ALSO if you're a cartoonist or a comics person, I invite you to journal your experience of how ICE has impacted your life with your own four-panel comics! I'd love to connect with you.
If you're wondering why I haven't been around much, surprise! | live in South Minneapolis where things have been pretty bad. BUT my South Minneapolis friends and neighbors have been wonderful. I love my neighborhood and my city. We keep us safe.
For Minnesota residents, Defend612 has some great resources in the links.
ALSO if you're a cartoonist or a comics person, I invite you to journal your experience of how ICE has impacted your life with your own four-panel comics! I'd love to connect with you.
I understand why many are emphasizing that our neighbor Renee was a citizen, but I want to state that this blog believes that we must protect and defend ALL our neighbors from ICE here in Minnesota.
ICE cannot be allowed to murder anyone in our home. No one should be mourning their mother, their wife, their daughter, and their friend today.
Undocumented Minnesotans, I hope you’re safe today, I hope your community is stepping up to take care of you, your life is just as important.
An old woman will arrive at the station at 2:47 AM, she will not have enough money to pay the fare, let her in anyway. She will then board an unscheduled train at 3:00 AM. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO TURN HER AWAY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
It was either a joke or some train executive's wife, that's what I thought when my manager gave me those specific instructions.
He proceeded to stress them again three more times during orientation. No biggie, I figured, and set a reminder on my phone for 2:45 just to be safe. Other than that I was just shown how to work the ticketing machine and where to find the spare D Batteries for the ancient flashlight they provided me with.
At 11:50 PM the last scheduled train departed. By 00:20 AM all the disembarked passengers had milled off. There was only one other person at the platform, a young homeless man missing a leg. Probably a veteran of one war or the other, there had been so many recently. He was sleeping on one of the benches. My manager had said I was to politely urge any passengers remaining after midnight to leave. He did not seem like a passenger so I let him sleep. It is how I was raised.
At 2:45 AM my alarm went off. I put aside my book, made sure my booth was tidy in case the executive's wife or mother or whoever would come was going to inspect it.
At 2:47 AM she was there.
I did not hear a car, nor approaching footsteps. The Babusia was simply there when she had not been before. A heavily wrinkled old woman, with a crooked nose and a scarf tied around her brittle-looking grey hair. A knobbly wooden walking stick was held by an equally knobbly left hand. She did not seem like the mother of some rich rail tycoon. She reminded me of my grandmother.
But I had never met my grandmother.
"One ticket, please." she requested in a firm voice, placing a small handful of coins on the counter without looking up at me. Most of the coins were obsolete Kopeks, and even counting those it was not enough for half a ticket, but as I was told before I nodded my head and accepted her money. "Of course. "
It suddenly occured to me that I was not told how to print a ticket for this unscheduled train. Before I could remark about it, I saw that the ticket was already at the mouth of the machine. It was green, with red lettering, something the black-and-white printer should not have made. But yet it did. The printing seemed in cyrillic of some sort, but I could not read it.
"Your ticket." I presented, and without thinking added "Do you require assistance to climb the platform stairs, grandmother?" It is how I was raised.
"Yes. Assist me." she replied curtly, beginning to shuffle slowly through the dark station towards the platform. I locked up my booth, and caught up with her just before the stairs. I switched on my heavy flashlight with my right hand, and offered the woman my right to brace herself. Her grip was strong. She probably would have had no issue climbing by herself, but assisting a grandmother was always the right thing to do, even when her sharp fingernails dug painfully into my palm.
We arrived at the platform. The clock hanging from the ceiling read 2:56. She released my hand and took a few steps, then looked at the sleeping man on the bench. "A friend of yours?" she asked. I thought about lying; if she was truly an executive's family, perhaps hosting a friend would be a lighter offense than turning a blind eye?
"No, grandmother." I responded truthfully. "He is not breaking the rules, so I left him alone." It is how I was raised.
The woman hummed. She seemed taller than before. Taller than me. The night draped her shoulders like a shaul and my torch did not reach it. Her gray hair shone like woven starlight, and her eyes were the night sky. I could not look away.
"You are a well-mannered girl." she said, her voice echoing in my ears like silence. She placed something small and hard in my hand.
A train arrived. It had only one car. I think it had a steam engine. It may have walked on chicken legs. I could not look at it.
The Grandmother boarded her train without another word. I was alone in a perfectly dull train station. Almost. The homeless woman behind me mumbled and stretched her legs in her sleep.
Every time someone leaves kind words in the comments it makes my day! Even if I don't reply to each and every one (mostly because I can't think of something to say usually) I love it, so thank you all!
Today we released a statement opposing the Trump Administration’s newly proposed leasing plan for offshore oil and gas drilling. The plan would open up our backyard and the entire California coast for consideration for drilling that we and many communities have long fought.
Healthy, intact ecosystems support thriving wildlife, clean air, and stable weather—all essential for people and nature to flourish. Our ocean and our communities are better off without the threat of devastating oil spills from drilling activity lurking off of the California coast.
In the face of this challenge, our commitments remain clear:
💡Centering science in the fight against climate change. Preventing opportunities for new oil and gas development will help the U.S. limit greenhouse gas emissions, improving the health and resilience of humans and nature.
📢 Giving a voice to marine wildlife that depend on a clean, thriving ocean. On behalf of important ocean species—”NO” to offshore drilling!
🤝 Building on restoration efforts still underway after past oil spill catastrophes and keeping up the critical work to protect all of us and our communities in the future. We all have a right to a healthy ocean, and our ecosystems, coastal economy, and livelihoods depend on it.
Join our ocean action email list to stay up-to-date on this issue.
Hey i’m a fashion design student so i have tons and tons of pdfs and docs with basic sewing techniques, pattern how-tos, and resources for fabric and trims. I’ve compiled it all into a shareable folder for anyone who wants to look into sewing and making their own clothing. I’ll be adding to this folder whenever i come across new resources
Updated just now with new hand sewing resources (mainly buttonholes) and textbook pdfs on fashion history, fashion illustration, and thinking through designs!
discoholicmusic
ellievsbear
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
