#carolina coop

[factcheckingthefords]

Richmond Farmhouse Exterior Inspiration for a large cottage white one-story wood gable roof remodel with a metal roof

[giftiaa]

Wood Exterior in Richmond Large country white one-story wood gable roof idea with a metal roof

[grif-hawaiian-rolls]

GAME NIGHT

Last week's loser has to pay for this week's pizza, this week's loser has to pay for next week's pizza

[alcnfr]

Some assorted feathered friends from the morning...

[tackrusso]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[forcednihilisticsuicide]

Hawks still managed to kill every last one in the coop

North Carolina

[crushpunky]

paparazzi catches actress!reader’s baby bump

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this is based off an ask that i thought was just too cute to pass up and takes place in the distant future lol. as far as fics go, this is probably the farthest i will write in the realm of pregnancy, ie i wont write about babies and stuff. warnings for pregnancy + nausea/vomiting

Y/n was beginning to feel cooped up, growing tired of staying in Drew and hers’ home. It wasn’t that she hated her company (Drew and Charleston), it was more that she was starting to get annoyed by the monotonous alternation between watching tv, reading over scripts, and scrolling through her phone. Maybe it was just pregnancy hormones, maybe it was just good old boredom. Either way, she needed to get out.

The first trimester of her pregnancy had been rough, y/n often waking up to waves of nausea that stranded her in the bathroom for hours, huddled over the toilet. The process of pregnancy was already stressful within itself, and adding the public’s opinions would only make it harder, so Drew and y/n decided to keep it between themselves for as long as possible. Once y/n was far enough along, they started telling their friends and family, the love reserved for their child that had previously been kept between just the two of them growing each and every day.

“Drew!” Y/n shouted as she stood from her spot on the couch with a groan. Drew came into the room quickly, a worried look on his face as he quickly looked her up and down. Now that she was well into her second semester, y/n’s bump had really begun to grow, making it a bit more difficult to hide with the baggy clothes she’d worn during the earliest stages of her pregnancy.

“What? Are you ok?” Drew quickly came to her side, a hand resting on her stomach. As much as she loved Drew, she had to admit that her pregnancy had turned him into even worse of a nervous wreck than he had been before. Every movement or sound that could even be construed as “weird” had Drew checking on her, a gentle hand roaming to her growing stomach.

“Yes,” y/n giggled as she tugged her cropped t-shirt down. “I’m gonna take Charleston out on a walk and stop at Claire’s.”

“Oh, just give me a second—” Drew scrambled back into their bedroom as y/n tugged on a light jacket, checking in the mirror that her exposed stomach was adequately covered despite the warmth outside.

“I’m fine, I can go by myself.” Y/n sighed, tugging on a baseball cap and grabbing Charleston’s leash, the dog excitedly trotting around her legs.

“Nope, I’m coming with you.” Drew emerged from the bedroom, taking Charleston's leash and pressing a quick kiss to y/n’s before reaching down to help her put on her shoes.

“Drew, I can do things by myself.” Y/n said, placing her hands on her hips as Drew tied her tennis shoes.

“I know. I’m just tryna treat my girls right.” Drew grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her growing bump before straightening up.

“You’re so convinced they’re gonna be a girl.” Y/n laughed lightly as Drew opened the front door, Charleston quickly jumping outside into the Carolina sun. Y/n stepped out next, Drew locking the door behind them as y/n stretched her legs with a groan, trying her best to minimize her pregnancy waddling as they began down the sidewalk.

The two of them walked side by side, Charleston trotting in front of them as they chatted. Once they reached down town, the streets grew more busy, filled with tourists and locals milling between the shops. Every so often they’d hear a giggle or see a wave, a fan noticing them but too afraid to approach, before carrying on with their walk. They continued down the sidewalk until they finally reached Claire’s, the two of them walking up to the window.

“Hey guys, long time no see!” The barista greeted, taking their orders and chatting with them as they waited. As they stood, y/n could feel herself growing warm from the unrelenting Carolina sun. Too engrossed in her conversation with Drew and the barista, as well as Charleston’s milling about, y/n didn’t even think anything as she unzipped the front of her jacket, the loose fabric billowing in the soft breeze. The fans who had been waiting in line behind them, however, let out small, shocked gasps before speaking excitedly to each other. Y/n turned at the noise, smiling lightly before turning back to Drew, who handed her her drink.

“Thank you so much, have a good rest of your day.” Y/n thanked the barista, Drew grabbing his drink. Y/n took a sip, a satisfied groan leaving her lips that caused the two of them to start laughing, Drew’s hand finding its spot around her waist. His fingers instantly met the warmth of her skin, Drew’s eyes widening as he looked down to see her exposed stomach. Y/n followed suit, looking down before hastily wrapping her jacket tightly around her body, only making her bump more prominent through the thin fabric.

“Shit, I wasn’t even thinking! I was hot and—” Y/n groaned, chewing at her lip as she looked around frantically, praying nobody had noticed.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Drew said, his hand soothing gently down her side before handing her his coffee. She took it, sighing deeply as he quickly reached down and zipped her jacket back up.

“No it isn’t! We were going to make this a whole reveal, surprise thing and I just fucking ruined it! Those girls in line definitely saw and—” y/n rambled, running her free hand through her hair messily.

“Hey, look at me.” Drew said, stopping the two of them in their tracks as he pulled her off to the side of the sidewalk. Charleston looked up between them curiously as y/n felt tears beginning to sting at her eyes, her mind racing at a million miles a minute.

“It’s ok, a’ight? I don’t care about that, I just care that you’re ok and that baby’s ok.” Drew whispered, his hands smoothing down her arms. 

“Are you ok?” Drew asked.

“Yes, but—-” y/n sighed.

“Is baby ok?” Drew said, his hands moving to rest on the sides of her stomach. Y/n looked at him, a small smile on her face.

“Yes.” Y/n nodded. Drew grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of her face before pulling her into his side.

“That’s all we need to worry about, ok baby?” Drew said, his words helping to calm down y/n’s pounding heart. She was ok, the baby was ok. That was all that mattered, not the whispers online or judgement of others.

“Thanks, Drew.” Y/n sighed, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder. He pressed one more kiss to her head before they continued their walk home, the secret they had been keeping now seeming to weigh a little less with each step.

Once they finally made it back to their house, y/n sat back down on the couch with a groan, her feet aching from all the walking and standing. Drew sat down next to her, taking her feet into his lap as he began to rub them gently. Y/n smiled, taking her phone out to countless notifications from friends, family, and her team on just about every possible platform.

“Well, shit.” Y/n sighed, opening one of the notifications and showing it to Drew.

Drew looked at her phone, nodding slowly before his eyes flicked back to y/n’s.

“At least you look hot in it.” Drew said with a shrug before returning his focus back to where he massaged y/n’s feet. Y/n laughed, kicking his leg lightly.

“Well at least I don’t have to worry about dressing like Adam Sandler to get coffee anymore.” Y/n grinned, Drew lifting his head and smiling back at her.

Later that afternoon, after talking with their publicists, the two of them decided it was finally time to make things official. With a final deep breath, they hit post:

[featherandferns]

daylight - eleven

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 11 of the daylight series | read part 10 here

content warnings: mentions of sex

word count: 1.8k.

blurb: reunited with your best friend from Canada, the two of you talk about Tyler and JJ, and you finally come to a decision.

“Mimsy?” 

When your best friend smiles at you, you wonder if you’re hallucinating. It’s only when she’s flying off the bed, squealing as she tackles you in a hug, that you’re sure she’s here. Here, in Kildare County, North Carolina, instead of Vancouver. As the shock subsides, your arms coil around her before squeezing like a python around prey. 

“Oh my God,” you mumble, nestling your face in her shoulder. She smells like home. Like childhood and make-believe. It makes your eyes water. “Mimsy.”

“Surprise, babes!” she sing-songs into your ear. 

Pulling back, you take her in. “How…When…How?”

“Darren, of course,” Mimsy replies with a cheeky grin. She parts from you and laps your bedroom leisurely, as if she’s as familiar with it as you. “I told him about your wacked out voicemail and he offered to buy me a plane ticket. All I had to do was let him put it up my butt.”

“Mimsy!” you screech. 

She turns to you, shrugging. “What? I wanted him to.”

Shaking your head, you begin to laugh. It’s easy to forget how much you miss someone until you have them back. Having Mimsy in your company again felt like how a child might when they rediscover their favourite teddy bear that had been missing for months. The Pogues had been great friends to you since moving to Kildare, but like a substituted cuddly toy, nobody had come close to matching Mimsy, let alone replacing her. Having her back felt like coming up for air after hours underwater. 

“So is Darren here too?” you ask. 

“Nah,” she says. “Left him in Vancouver.”

“Well, how long are you here for?”

“Just a week. I’m thinking that’ll be long enough to set you back on your path. Bestow some wisdom on you and all that,” Mimsy says. She makes her way back over to you. “I took your voicemail as an S.O.S type situation.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, ditching your bag. “I think I screwed things up pretty wonderfully.”

“Men are simple. He’ll come crawling back,” Mimsy assures, but you’re not so convinced.

Wandering over to your pinboard, your eyes land on JJ’s beaming face. “I don’t know,” you mumble. “I don’t think JJ’s like that.”

Mimsy hums thoughtfully. She joins you by your side, presumably following your gaze. “He’s cute.”

“I know,” you chuckle. 

“He a good kisser?” Shoving her shoulder jokingly, Mimsy lets out a laugh. “What!? I’m just asking the important questions here.”

Shaking your head, you head to your bedroom door. “Wanna go check out the area? It feels wrong wasting a good day cooped up in here.”

“Sure thing,” Mimsy easily agrees.

She follows you down the stairs and into your car, and chatters the entire drive to the harbour about all the gossip and drama you’d missed in Vancouver. It felt like a series recap that came at the start of ‘a very special’ episode. It also worked well as a distraction from thoughts about JJ. That boy had crossed through your mind so much recently, you wondered whether your brainwaves might be permanently altered. 

Your tour of Kildare starts with Heywards and the Wreck before venturing towards the stretches of beach. Once Mimsy has gawked at the surfer bros for about fifteen minutes, you manage to drag her to the marsh-land area. Point out some fishing spots that JJ had introduced you to. Provide vague directions to the Pogue’s houses. After a brief lap of Figure Eight, the two of you swing by a taco bell before pulling into a look over. 

“So,” Mimsy says as she chews a churro. “What the fuck happened?”

“With JJ?” you check. She nods. Your eyes drift over to the view. Green-leaved trees form rivers, and concrete roads and housing estates become the stones of the estuary that was Kildare County. “We got in this dumb fight when I was at his to watch a movie. After that incident a while back, I still haven’t let him go down on me or anything, and he got all confrontational about it. Took it personal and stuff and…I bolted.”

“The incident being the thing about your hoo-ha?” Mimsy checks. You visibly cringe. 

“Please, do not call it that,” you mumble. 

“If you get to wear a shirt about fishing, I get to call your vaj whatever I so please,” Mimsy shrugs. She offers you a churro after as if she didn’t just say the most heinous thing you’ve ever had uttered in your car. You accept. “But is it?”

“Mhm. I’m just scared that it’ll happen again,” you say. “It was embarrassing.”

“For like a minute,” Mimsy says. “But didn’t you say JJ was really chill with it.”

“The first time, yeah. But what if it’s a recurring thing? He’s gonna start thinking it’s because of him,” you explain, calming your worry with a chocolate-drenched doughnut stick. 

“And you’re sure it isn’t?”

“No!”

“Alright!”

Sighing, you shake your head. “Sorry. I’m just…I think it’s Tyler.”

“This again?” Mimsy's tone isn’t angry; it's more concerned. “Babes, when are you going to let that whole thing be in the past?”

“I think I’m starting to,” you assure. “Maybe I didn’t deal with it when it actually happened but I had this conversation the other day and sort of...ended up burning all of his old stuff.”

Mimsy quirks a brow, squinting with just the one eye. “Bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

“Shut up. It helped,” you reply, smiling smally. It fades away like the setting sun. “I think the whole thing has just made me nervous.”

“In what way, babes? Like you can’t trust another guy again?” Mimsy wonders. 

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, brows furrowing, and something dawns upon you.

“I don’t think it’s that I don’t trust others. I think it’s more that I don’t trust myself. I mean, I stayed around with Tyler for so long, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Even when everyone was telling me it was bad news. That it wasn’t normal to feel the way I was feeling in a relationship. I just let him bleed me dry, and went to all that effort to try and win his attention and his affection, just for it to all mean nothing. I don’t know,” you sigh, breaking away from your rant. “I guess I just don’t trust my judgement anymore. JJ’s fine now but so was Tyler, when I first met him.”

“Okay, not true,” Mimsy quickly disagrees. Your head darts up from your twiddling fingers. “Tyler was a prick from the start, you just didn’t want to see it.”

“As delicate as a sledgehammer, Mimsy,” you mutter. 

“Second,” she continues. “From the things you’ve told me about JJ: he’s nothing like Tyler.”

That was true. With Tyler, you begged to receive compliments and even then, they were few and far between. But JJ was generous with them. Casually commented on your outfits, or your photos, or yourself. Tyler seemingly needed alcohol to remember that you existed whereas JJ came to you sober, drunk or high. Whilst your ex teased you for your fears and hopes, JJ listened and understood. Knew just how far to push the line of joking without becoming mean. 

“Can I tell you a story?” Mimsy asks. It brings you from your mental comparison. Crossing your legs in your seat and pinching another churro, you nod. 

“Sure.”

“Okay, well, it’s not exactly a story but I think it applies to this situation,” Mimsy self-corrects. “You know that show BoJack that I watch?”

“Yeah?” you wonder, unsure as to where she might be going. 

“There’s this character, Wanda, who dates BoJack for a while. At first things are perfect. Sunshine, rainbows, that whole pile of crap. But after a while, his true colours show and she can’t keep moulding him into the guy she can see he could be. Eventually it all falls apart and she says something that I think encapsulates you with Tyler beautifully. She says, ‘it’s funny: when you look at someone through rose-coloured glasses, all the red flags, just look like flags’.”

The two of you sit in the quote for a moment, eyes locked. Mimsy starts to smile, sympathetic and sweet. 

“I don’t think you’re gonna make the same mistake you did with Tyler ‘cause he ripped those glasses right off you. I think you’ve learnt your lesson once and once was enough.”

Pursing your lips, you try to keep the brimming emotions at bay. It feels like lately all it takes is a pin to prick you and you begin to cry. 

“I think it’s hard 'cause I never got the closure that I wanted. Tyler never explained why or helped leave things amicable. Or apologise, even.: not properly”

Mimsy scoffs almost sadly. “Would you have even wanted him to, though? He was a fucking pro at saying sorry.”

“Mm, that’s true,” you muse. “Maybe it would have made me feel good for a minute, in the moment, but after…”

“Yeah,” Mimsy quietly agrees, somehow hearing your unspoken words. She picks out another churro whilst you pick yours apart. “I don’t think closure’s a real thing, though. Sometimes it is, sure, if you’re really lucky, but most things aren’t like the movies. You don’t get this picture-perfect coffee-date to clear the air and stuff. Most of the time, people just leave. Like my dad. I don’t even remember what the last thing I ever said to him was, and then he was gone for good. I guess not having closure at all is sometimes closure enough, if that makes sense.”

Her words make you take pause. Half-amused, half-smiling, you take in your wonderful best friend. “When the fuck did you get so wise?”

“Oh, after you left,” Mimsy jokingly replies. “I had to read some self-help books to get me through it.”

Snorting, you toss a piece of churro at her. Her advice melts into that of Barry’s, and the cathartic bonfire from the other night serves as a catalyst for your decision making. Maybe everybody’s right. Maybe it’s time for you to remember that all people are different people, and one man’s careless actions don’t emulate anothers. JJ can’t read your mind. He can’t understand the layers of emotion and history behind one small action, and he can’t decipher what you want through your wordless actions. You need to talk to him. You’ve kept your cards close to your chest for long enough. 

“Alright, enough about me,” you say, popping a piece of churro into your mouth. Your grin brightens up the car, lightening the mood. “Tell me about Darren.”

“Oh, baby, I thought you’d never ask,” Mimsy giggles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “So it all started at this house party…”

And just like that, you listen happily to Mimsy's rambling and allow yourself to enjoy life that tiny bit more once again, with a bookmarked thought to talk to JJ sooner rather than later.

read part twelve here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200 | @maybankskiss | @lillell467 | @belle101200 | @charchartumb-lr | @bootyjiggler | @dreamingofyeo | please tell me if any tags aren't working - I've never done taglists before!

[reepiblog]

"But the question is, Did John Brown fail? He certainly did fail to get out of Harpers Ferry before being beaten down by United States soldiers; he did fail to save his own life, and to lead a liberating army into the mountains of Virginia. But he did not go to Harpers Ferry to save his life. "The true question is, Did John Brown draw his sword against slavery and thereby lose his life in vain? And to this I answer ten thousand times, No! No man fails, or can fail, who so grandly gives himself and all he has to a righteous cause. No man, who in his hour of extremest need, when on his way to meet an ignominious death, could so forget himself as to stop and kiss a little child, one of the hated race for whom he was about to die, could by any possibility fail. "Did John Brown fail? Ask Henry A. Wise in whose house less than two years after, a school for the emancipated slaves was taught. "Did John Brown fail? Ask James M. Mason, the author of the inhuman fugitive slave bill, who was cooped up in Fort Warren, as a traitor less than two years from the time that he stood over the prostrate body of John Brown. "Did John Brown fail? Ask Clement C. Vallandingham, one other of the inquisitorial party; for he too went down in the tremendous whirlpool created by the powerful hand of this bold invader. If John Brown did not end the war that ended slavery, he did at least begin the war that ended slavery. If we look over the dates, places and men for which this honor is claimed, we shall find that not Carolina, but Virginia, not Fort Sumter, but Harpers Ferry, and the arsenal, not Col. Anderson, but John Brown, began the war that ended American slavery and made this a free Republic. Until this blow was struck, the prospect for freedom was dim, shadowy and uncertain. The irrepressible conflict was one of words, votes and compromises. "When John Brown stretched forth his arm the sky was cleared. The time for compromises was gone - the armed hosts of freedom stood face to face over the chasm of a broken Union - and the clash of arms was at hand. The South staked all upon getting possession of the Federal Government, and failing to do that, drew the sword of rebellion and thus made her own, and not Brown's, the lost cause of the century." -(May 30, 1881, Frederick Douglass, oration at the Fourteenth Anniversary of Storer College, May 30, 1881)

[kedreeva]

I have had a pretty terrible last three days. Saturday I finally made the decision to replace my car, which I am deeply attached to and have had for the past 19 years of my life, and found a replacement down in North Carolina near my family. I planned to take one last drive with him to go down, and turn him in at the dealership, only to be hit by a truck hard enough to total my car yesterday. I'm a little banged up on my shoulder and sporting a pretty tender bruise to the side of my head, but I'm otherwise fine.

After dealing with all of that and arranging a flight down instead, I got a bad feeling about the birds and the Cold after checking the weather report that said it would get to -30 wind-chill last night. I went out to check on the birds again, only to find Indie on the floor in cold shock. I brought him indoors and spent most of last night up and down checking on him and slogging out into the cold to check on the others. Thankfully my own birds are all very cold hardy and are doing fine, but Indie is a higher Spalding, and seems to be far less cold tolerant.

Thankfully, he survived the night and warmed up, and has gotten steadier all day. At 7:30, about when the lights go off in the coops, he promptly decided it was bedtime, turned around on the tray table and tucked himself into bed so completely in the way that I also went to bed a few minutes later.

After some discussion with his owners, I cancelled my flight and rented a car, and I'll be taking him back. They VERY kindly offered to let me bring the girls I was going to breed him to down with him, and they will do the breeding there instead. This is a relief that means I won't have to deal with any peachicks this year, but I'll still hopefully be able to get a bs split leucistic pair from him and my own birds, possibly a trio.

My brother drove out and helped me unload the stuff I'd gone to get yesterday, which was mostly supplies for the birds, extra bedding to keep them warm, and the few personal things I kept in the car. Since I'm moving three birds including one adult male to the south, I'm just going to condense the pens into the barn, where they'll have more room to be indoors through this cold, and have better insulation and be easier to access for me. Of course, that means Stan and co are boarding in Bug's pen and Bug's been relegated to her baby cage for when she must be contained if we leave the house (though that's mostly because it's Too Cold, less because there are birds in her house)

Still big enough to hold her! Thankfully it shouldn't have to hold her long.

She's also extremely jealous I'm paying attention to Indie and not just her. She's been alternating between guarding me and sulking all day.

Anyway. Send some good vibes this way, 2024 has not been treating me very kindly so far.

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

George Stinney: Youngest Execution in America at aged 11

In 1944, George Stinney stood 5 feet 1 inch (154 cm), and weighed 90-95 pounds. He lived in a small home with a chicken coop in his hometown of Alcolu, South Carolina. . Alcolu was a small, working-class mill town, where white and black neighborhoods were separated by railroad tracks. The town was typical of small Southern towns of the time. Given segregated schools and churches for white and black residents, there was limited interaction between them.

On March 23, 1944, the bodies of Betty June Binnicker and Mary Emma Thames were found in a ditch on the African-American side of Alcolu after the girls failed to return home the night before.  Stinney's father assisted in the search. The girls had been beaten with a weapon, variously reported as a piece of blunt metal or a railroad spike. Binnicker and Thames both suffered severe blunt force trauma, resulting in penetration of both girls' skulls. According to a report by the medical examiner, these wounds had been "inflicted by a blunt instrument with a round head, about the size of a hammer." The medical examiner reported no evidence of sexual assault to the younger girl, though the genitalia of the older girl were slightly bruised.

The girls were last seen riding their bicycles looking for flowers. As they passed the Stinneys' property, they had asked Stinney and his sister, Aimé, if they knew where to find "maypops", a local name for passionflowers. According to Aimé, she was with Stinney at the time the police later established the murders occurred. According to an article reported by the wire services on March 24, 1944, the sheriff announced the arrest of "George Junius" and stated that the boy had confessed and led officers to "a hidden piece of iron.

George and his older brother John were arrested on suspicion of murdering the girls. John was released by police, but George was held in custody. He was not allowed to see his parents until after his trial and conviction.

In 1995, Stinney's seventh-grade teacher, W.L. Hamilton— a black man— spoke in an interview with The Sumter Item about George. Hamilton stated, "I remember the day he killed those children, he got into a fight with a girl at school who was his neighbor. In those days you didn't have to worry about children carrying guns and knives to school, but George carried a little knife and he scratched this child with his knife. I took him outside and we went for a little walk, and I talked to him. We went back into the school, in a submissive way, he begged for the child's pardon." Stinney's sister, Aimé Ruffner, denied those allegations and contacted Hamilton after it was published. Aimé stated, "I asked him why he would say something like that," she said. "He told me someone paid him to say it. I don't know who paid him but his exact words were, 'because they paid me.'" Hamilton died shortly after his interview was published.

Following Stinney's arrest, his father was fired from his job at the local sawmill and the Stinney family had to immediately vacate their company housing. The family feared for their safety. Stinney's parents did not see him again before the trial. He had no support during his 81-day confinement and trial; he was detained at a jail in Columbia, 50 miles (80 km) from Alcolu, due to the risk of lynching. Stinney was questioned alone, without his parents or an attorney. 

Other than the testimony of the three police officers, at trial prosecutors called three witnesses: Reverend Francis Batson, who discovered the bodies of the two girls, and the two doctors who performed the post-mortem examination. The court allowed discussion of the "possibility" of rape due to bruising on Binnicker's genitalia. Stinney's counsel did not call any witnesses, did not cross-examine witnesses, and offered little or no defense. The trial presentation lasted two and a half hours. More than 1,000 white Americans crowded the courtroom, but no black Americans were allowed. As was typical at the time, Stinney was tried before an all-white jury. After deliberating for less than ten minutes, the jury found Stinney guilty of murder. Judge Philip H. Stoll sentenced Stinney to death by electrocution.

Stinney's family, churches, and the NAACP appealed to Governor Olin D. Johnston for clemency, given the age of the boy. Most of the pleas for clemency came from white women living in South Carolina. Some pleas from whites came with affirmations of white supremacy, but discomfort at the prospect of someone so young being executed.

An execution of a child as young as 14 was virtually unheard of in United States history, even for black children in the Jim Crow South who were convicted of murdering or raping white victims; many sources say that Stinney was the youngest person executed in the US in the 20th century.

Stinney was executed on Friday, June 16, 1944, at 7:30 a.m. He was prepared for execution by electric chair, using a Bible as a booster seat because Stinney was too small for the chair. He was then restrained by his arms, legs, and body to the chair. An officer asked George if he had any last words to say before the execution took place, but he only shook his head and said "No, sir." The executioner pulled a strap from the chair and placed it over George's mouth, causing him to break into tears, and he then placed the face mask over his face, which did not fit him as he continued sobbing. When the lethal electricity was applied, the mask covering slipped off, revealing tears streaming down Stinney's face. He was buried in an unmarked grave in Crowley

[kimberly40]

I know the feel of smooth bedrock beneath bare feet, and slimy green algae between toes in a gently flowing creek. I can still pick out the best crawdad holes, recognize a ginseng patch, and I’m not afraid to bait any kind of hook. I’m from a place where the whole family crams together at Grandma’s house for dinner. Golden fried chicken, dipped in puddles of gravy, with okra and fried cabbage, dripping with grease. The smell of morning dew, tobacco hanging in a barn, the foul and musty odor of a chicken coop and the way it feels to literally wash the mountains off your skin after a day in the hills, will all remain the perfume trigger points of my childhood.

We are people who are proud of our heritage, who have soft hearts for these mountains and sharp tongues for anyone who tries to belittle our homeland.

I’m proud to say Appalachia is my home, my heritage, my past, my present, and my future.

(Photo of Briar Rose Farm in Madison County, North Carolina

[shipwreckedwithcaptainmarrow]

Apologies for the absence over here on Tumblr, I've just been so insanely busy since the release of my book. It's odd how the writing process sees you cooped up and lackadaisical, and you have time for things, and book's progress just goes on and on. But after it comes out, things change. Since the book's launch in late September I've - - Setup Author booth at Cedar Key Pirate Invasion (Florida) - Setup Author booth for Launch Party in Goose Creek (South Carolina) - Setup Author booth at Old City Pirate Day in St. Augustine (Florida) - Setup Author booth at Colonial Faire and Muster at Wormsloe (Georgia) Now I've got my upcoming confirmed plans over the next 3 months: - Pirate Educational Display at Fort Dorchester (South Carolina) - Pirate Educational Display and Author booth at Wilmington (North Carolina) - Pirate Educational Display at Fort King George (Georgia) - Pirate Educational Display and Author booth at Powder Magazine (South Carolina) - Author booth at Penumbra renfair in St. Augustine (Florida) - Pirate Lecture and Book Signing at Museum of Coastal Carolinas (North Carolina) And my unconfirmed plans over the next three: - Author table at The Pirate Store, St. Augustine (Florida) - Author table at Starbucks, Mt. Pleasant (South Carolina) - Educational Display or Author booth at Ponce DeLeon Inlet Lighthouse (Florida) - Pirate Lecture at Wormsloe Plantation (Georgia) - Educational Display at McLarty Treasure Museum (Florida) Events confirmed for later in the year: - Author booth at Panama City Pirate Invasion (Florida) - Pirate Educational Display and Author table at Feast of the Pirates (North Carolina) ... So I've been busy, and all of this above is still yet to happen soon. My calendar is filling up. I still have more contacts to follow up on, and other events for the reenactment crew, like potentially Huntington Beach (South Carolina). Can't believe I'm a "professional pirate," and have made such a name for myself, but I'm definitely thankful for all the friends and notable contacts amid the educational fields I've made along the way that's making this possible with my book release. I know its already been a long post, but I just wanted to say that I wish I still had the time and umph to keep up with all of my various social medias. Both Instagram and Tumblr have fallen a bit to the wayside while Facebook has remained my primary - its just historic sites and museums all have Facebook pages, but not tumblrs for example. So I've had to prioritize what I've needed to do to get to this point. Still, I'll try and toss up a few more posts and not neglect the site here so much. Hope you guys understand.

[dreamsweet]

Help Carolina Waterfowl Rescue!

Hi everyone, I know a lot is going on right now, and there are plenty of people and organizations who are struggling and need help, so I'm only asking this of people who are really able to.

Carolina Waterfowl Rescue is a non-profit in my area that focuses on rehabilitating more than just waterfowl, honestly, pretty much any animal you can think of that's not a cat or dog can receive treatment or care there. They're one of very few places in the entire country that does the kind of work they do, and people drive from out of state to bring animals to them to receive care. You might have heard of them when a few years back, Jeffrey Dean Morgan adopted a donkey and emu from there!

Their ultimate goal is rehabilitating and releasing the animals back into their natural habitats, but CWR is the permanent home of various birds, snakes, lizards, you name it, with disabilities that wouldn't otherwise be able to survive in the wild.

Running the rescue is expensive, and CWR has experienced their lowest donations in years due to Amazon cancelling the Smile program and Facebook eliminating the ability to make monthly payments (and also withholding suspicious amounts of donations to nonprofits, apparently). Unfortunately, CWR is at risk of shutting down after over 20 years of helping animals in need.

If you're able to, please donate to CWR! I'm in no way personally affiliated with them through employment or volunteering, I just donate to their Patreon. CWR is a 501(c)3 nonprofit and all donations are tax-deductible. Please reblog if you see this!

Network for Good - Rebuild the Roost

A donation-matching campaign through the end of 11/28/23 to rebuild the chicken coop that CWR keeps for its chickens!

Network for Good - Haven for the Raven

A donation-matching campaign through the end of 11/28/23 to build a permanent habitat for the corvids that live at CWR!

Network for Good - Serenity for Swans

A donation-matching campign through the end of 11/28/23 to perform critical repairs and maintenance to the pond at CWR that their resident swans live in!

PayPal @waterfowlrescue

Venmo @cwrescue

Cashapp $cwrescue

Amazon Wishlist

[alcnfr]

Carolina Wren (Thryothorus ludovicianus) fledglings can look rather ungainly for a few days.

[dunne-ias]

Brightshroom Islands, mark 2, end of the second year (8 seasons in)

Under a cut, for your convenience!

Yeah, we're done with spring of year 2, which marks the second anniversary of the bacc. According to hood checker, the hood is still healthy, so I made the low effort of posing the households for some family photos.

The O'Hannigan family (1)

From the left, Cash O'Hannigan, mayor extraordinaire and very very angry man since his husband cheated on him and the BEAT HIM UP, so now he walks around causing scandals by hitting on his married friends. Get it together, Cash. His husband Kevin also beat up some other people and that child out of wedlock meant he had committed three strikes and has become the first sim to go prison, where he will spent the next season getting to do absolutely nothing including talking to people as punishment. Cash is also holding his granddaughter Noelle. Next to him, Veronica, his daughter, stay at home mom, and her wife Ester Buckolz, manager of Freya's Frocks. Ester has a child with Veronica's sister Lysette, who is the blonde teenager to the right. Her name is Lin, and she's holding her little brother Percival. Dee Dee I love you for the toddler posebox.

The Buckolz family (1)

Shania Buckolz, town electrician and Architect, and her wife Carolina. This is also their youngest daughter Nessa, who runs the electronics store, and her husband Valère Atterberry, and their newborn baby Cassandra. Valère is currently unemployed, but takes care of the baby until a job opens up. There is a big unemployment crisis at the moment, and he's not the top priority.

The Werther Family

The current state of the family, which literally just changed is about to change as soon as the round starts on their lot, but here we go:

Margareta Werther and her aging wife Chloe. Margareta is the town carpenter, and will be leaving her shop, Werther's Toys, to her son Ismael ( to the right), who is currently working at Freya's Frocks. Ismael is engaged to Diana Leighton, and also have triplets with Hamid Atterberry but despite my best efforts, they had no desires to get together as adults, so the kids will be moving back and forth every other season. Ernst (left) snagged a job in politics. He had a kid with mayor Cash's husband, so that's awkward, but little Britta is not pictured here. I have no current relationship plans for Ernst, but he doesn't seem very unhappy about that. In Chloe's lap is Chris, a kid Chloe and Margareta both had adoption wants for. Margareta is younger than the other founders due to having been dead and resurrected after her pregnancy didn't end well. Chloe was a chef for a while, but recently got fired. Oh well. The shop is doing well and she was needed during the toddler hell that was triplets.

The Atterberry family (1)

From the left, Jie Atterberry, former art store owner and current layabout, his husband Robert, who works in business, and then their daughter Niamh, with wife Cybelle O'Hannigan. Cybelle and Niamh were natural three bolters since their first day of teenhood, and together they have a daughter named Valeriana, not pictured because baby. Niamh runs the Art Store, and Cybelle has chosen a life of crime.

The Kohout family

I realized that while Freya should've aged up, I must have forgotten to do so, but here she is, the town seamstress and owner of Freya's Frocks, and her husband, crime lord Gordon. They have three children, Georgiana who has flown the coop, and their two boys, teenaged Abraham and little Erik.

I love Freya's face so much, and I regret not marrying here to a sim with a more interesting face.

The Leighton family

Indiana Leighton, seated, struggling artist and his wife, teacher Brenda, had four daughters. Blondie there is Diana who is engaged to Ismael Werther and will be getting married to him at the start of the next round. She's currently unemployed but is trying to work in the medical field. Jillian, the redhead, recently married childhood sweetheart Georgiana Kohout, chef. They have a teenaged daughter (sitting in her grandfather's lap) named Madge from a teen pregnancy, and recently added Eufemia to the family, but she is not pictured. Never work with animals or babies.

Those are the founding families, but there're more households of course because gen 2 is now adult and breeding on their own.

Buckolz 2

I didn't even question the choice not to pose the entire family here. Ivan Buckolz, blonde, is the manager of Werther's Toys. His husband, Nicholas, is a stay at home parent right now, which was 100% necessary after they had a set of quads. All girls: Anastazia, Corinne, Hilda, and Lynda. They're currently toddlers so you can imagine how much fun I have playing their house at the moment. Things will calm down in a day or two though.

O'Hannigan2

This group of sims are still staying together, somehow, but I could afford an addition to their house, so baring multiple births, they might stay that way. This is Alfred O'Hannigan, manager of Buckolz' Electronics. He is engaged to Livia Leighton, who also works at that shop, but since their engagement they've given me no signs that they're even into each other, so that might go nowhere. If it does, I'm letting Alfred cry out in the arms of Ernst Werther, his old boyfriend. Blonde on the right is Livia's little sister Shiobhan Leighton, and her wife, alien townie Diane, and their son Bob. As you can see Shiobhan is also pregnant again. Because Shiobhan married a townie, she only needs to have two kids, but Livia and Alfred, being both playables since birth, need at least three, for the hood to keep growing, so they need to get on with it, honestly.

Atterberry family (2)

Here is Hamid Atterberry, stay at home dad, and his recent wife Lysette O'Hannigan. Lysette also has a teenaged daughter named Lin, who lives with her other mom this coming round, and Hamid's three sons with Ismael Werther have moved in instead: Aiden, Valentine and Filémon. Lysette works as a teacher, and the couple recently welcomed twins Lena and Alaric into their family. I think that's enough kids, but being both family sims, they might have other plans.

SCORECARD

It's going pretty well. Three available lot points, and money to build a City hall, and renovate the school, as well as three available jobs (all three have individual requirements though so not anyone can take them). Sim multiplier is six, and lot multiplier is 2, with a current population of 312.