#CASH Initiation

[bookmarks-reviews]

Find the Word

Thank you @toribookworm22 for tagging me on this one!

I'll pass this on to @fall-out-books, @elizaellwrites, and @honeysoiair! See if you can find the words TRIO, STUBBLE, and BALL/BAUBLE in your works! Of course, as ever, no pressure!

I was challenged to find the words BLUE, SOCK(S), PLACE, HIDE, and FEAR. Here's what I came up with!

BLUE cropped up in Bad Luck, a story that's still in progress, about a world where you can influence fate by spending luck points to tip the scales in your direction.

Even from here, I could see the bright lines. Eight Marks. Peeling away from the raging fist, glowing electric BLUE in the early morning air, until they speckled away into nothing.

I found SOCKS in CASH: Initiation, in a battle simulation of all places.

Five blocks later, the deluge lessened enough for Carolina to orient herself. Slamming her rings together, she reappeared on a nearby rooftop, soaking wet. She wasn’t quite sure how, but Dr. Lang had found a way to perfectly mimic the feeling of soggy SOCKS in virtual reality.

PLACE was an easy enough word to find, so I looked in Stone in Love, a villain romance story! I was really happy for the chance to describe how Firearm's abilities work.

As the suited man stood over Patrick, debating where to strike first, the former SOMS agent clenched his fists tight. With this gesture, there was the uncomfortable, but familiar sensation of his fingers folding much further than fingers ever should. Bending almost 180 degrees, Patrick felt his hands retract backwards into his arms, and in their PLACE, twin cylindrical barrels slid forward with a click.

HIDE happened to be hiding out in my rough draft for CASH: Concurrence, where I still need to add some passages.

As it turned out, spackle wasn’t necessary to HIDE the damage from either of her two other housemates. Upon emerging from his room an hour later, Isaac only stopped by the kitchen briefly to grab a bagel and a banana before heading out. He apologized for rushing, but apparently a conversation from last night had made that morning’s agenda much more urgent. [Add conversation/text exchange with Michael about O’Malley’s kidnapping.]

I went back to CASH: initiation for FEAR, because I really need to go through that again, and hopefully writing about it here will incentivize me to do so!

“This way! Now!” Carolina ordered. She held open the door to the eighth floor, and Hailey bolted through. Her legs were burning, but FEAR and adrenaline kept her moving. Carolina followed her, slamming and locking the door behind them.

Thank you again for the tag, and the opportunity to share!

[morganbritton132]

Thank you for feeding us with the Steve Has Older Siblings AU. God tier level of characterization I gotta say.

How do the older siblings handle the “Eddie Munson Problem”? I would imagine they actually do try to get rid of him at first given Eddie’s reputation but then realize he treats Steve better than any of them ever have.

Well, there is cash incentive.

Richard Harrington still has aspirations of going into local politics one days and he is not going let Al Munson’s son kill that dream. Or kill their son. Richard waves a dismissive hand in his wife’s direction because, “Of course. Of course. Or that.”

Whoever makes that boy disappear gets five thousand dollars.

(1.)

Claire takes a direct approach. She corners Steve and tells him that Eddie is a drug dealer and a drug user. She tells him about all the scary things that showed up on his toxicology report in the hospital and Steve replied flatly with, “Wow. Crazy. I had no idea.”

“I’m serious,” She says. “You could get hurt with someone like that. Do you know how that would make us feel if something happened to you?

“I fractured my ankle at a track meet once and Dad made me walk to the car afterwards,” Steve replies. “I think you guys will be fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“You know, Claire,” Steve nods to himself because, yeah. Sure. Let’s do it. “How have you felt the last three years? Or, I don’t know. The last two concussions? You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with for years now and – and you’ve never cared so why now? What’s Dad giving you to ruin my life because-“

He shakes his head, “This is not worth it. Like how picking up the phone when the mall caught on fire with me inside it wasn’t worth the effort. Tell Dad you tried really hard, but no. I’m not going to get rid of one of the few people in my life that actually like me.”

(2.)

Jason takes a different – dumber – approach. He goes in with no plan and no intentions, just took the opportunity when he saw Eddie’s van pulled off on the side of a backroad. He bangs his fist against the side and is delighted that he caught Eddie and Steve.

He threatens to beat Eddie up which is bold to say to an accused murderer in the woods, but okay.

Then he turns around and threatens Steve that he’s going to tell their dad that he was getting high in the woods if he doesn’t keep away from trailer trash, but Jason is fucking idiot because they were decidedly not getting high in the woods. He leaves with an eighth of marijuana and  no closer to five thousand dollars because Steve had just shrugged like, “Okay? Go ahead. Tell him.”

(3.)

Richie does not participate in this because he actually wants to improve his relationship with his little brother and he was the first person Steve went to after they got Eddie, barely breathing, to the hospital. He saw how shaken up he was and he also saw the bruising around Steve’s neck.

He knows what the bruising looks like. He knows how people gets bruises like that. And he knows that he’s a coward because he could not bring himself to ask a question he did not want the answer to. And he knows Eddie Munson.

Eddie is harmless.

All you have to do is have one conversation with the kid and you’ll see that he couldn't hurt a fly. Richie, however, had many conversations with him when Harrington & Associates took his case on pro bono so he knows just how harmless Eddie is.

He also knows that Eddie spends a lot of time trying to make Steve laugh. Richie has spent enough time in his life making his brother miserable. He's not doing anymore.

[sunnysideoflondon]

this reminds me of that video where jere and bojan "kiss" but one of them drags the slovenia flag over their heads so we cant see but this time its tommy cash and a shower curtain

[lpsgirl109]

Im actually never forgiving Descendants: The Royal Wedding for being all silly goofy happy cartoon and then out of fucking NOWHERE just dropping "I really miss Carlos guys" HEY DISNEY WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

[citizenn]

EA canceling The Sims 5 because they don't want "players to have to restart a decade’s worth of gameplay after ‘THE SIMS 4’" is like if Rockstar said they're canceling GTA 6 because they don't want players to restart 11 years worth of gameplay after GTA 5

[agentartemus]

I thought today was a good one..

[knightinink]

rat bastard goat man.

[saltcherry]

type of guy so old it feels new discovered:

learned my brother voted third party for something called the american solidarity party. I went down the rabbit hole of their website and their platform can only be described as 19th century reformer imposed morality meets left-of-Dems socioeconomic policy. I mean it is basically socialism lite for liturgical-doctrinal Christians who are anti-abortion hardliners, a.k.a. European Christian Democrat-ism for the US, but reading their platform in this country is a trip. yeah we're the anti-choice, anti-gay rights, anti-trans, anti-no fault divorce, Patriarchy Unlimited Party, and we're also pro-worker, pro-environment, pro-reparations, pro-tribal sovereignty, anti-nuke, anti-imperialism, anti-drill, anti-IMF, anti-prison, anti-death penalty, and anti-corporate.

I mean I think there is a vicious insidiousness in a viewpoint where the implicit utopia is a post-racial society with open borders, no war, and women mostly stay at home with the kids, but it's at least internally consistent. and it's fucking embarrassing for Dems to be outflanked on the left by the Carrie Nation Moralizing Patriarchy Party.

[sxlphie]

Bought a very beautiful vintage dress which ended up being quite baggy in the back 💀 I think tomorrow I will have to accept my fate and take it to be altered (💸)

[spiritualityloves247]

Weren't allowed stuffies.

Mom called the psych unit AHEAD of time

[applesandbannas747]

Students will take my classroom economy and build a mafia, successfully control at least half of the class’s fake money with predatory loans and interest rates, then expect ME to deal with it when someone steals from them

Like little homies I am so sorry to tell you this because I am so sorry it’s true but I am the government in this situation. The Man, if you will. You make a mafia, you deal with running it

Anyway, they decided to threaten thieves with breaking their knee caps and I’m helping them build a spreadsheet to keep track of their finances

They have not, however, relocated the jankass box made out of roughly hacked apart pieces of cardboard glued together that’s always sitting in the middle of the class library and bursting with their dirty fake money nor seem to have any intention to make ‘the mafia’ more secure

[twodoorsnotone]

The curse of being a woman is my relatives give me I'm sure very valuable and high quality jewellery for a big birthday present and all I can think is woah I wish they gave me the fancy leather laptop bag they gave my twin brother lol

[alteredsilicone]

boss sent me an email asking if i got the uni PhD stipend and I remembered that I did not get it

[artificialcaretaker]

Ok hear me out dawg.

[amethystsoda]

today’s archive additions (I love you half price books 😙)