#container yard depot

[alcinvestmentgroup]

Shipping Container Storage

Website : https://alcinvestmentgroup.com

Address : 12523 Limonite Ave #440-279, Eastvale, CA 91752

Phone : +1 909-414-1772

ALC Investment Group is a shipping container storage yard/depot. We provide 24/7 storage for shipping containers that need to be stored, when the warehouse is not ready for delivery, and/or the containers need to be moved out of the ports.

[lotuscontainers]

Container depot services | LOTUS Containers

Without a container depot, shipping and logistics would be of no use. Container depots are crucial for the journey where goods are loaded and unloaded. Apart from this, there are transshipment ports that combine different modes of transport. LOTUS containers are partnered with around 300 ports that will provide you with the best services. So, get in touch with them with any kind of port services you need.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

title: in a feud with her neighbor

bonus scenes now available

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5621

summary:

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

author’s note: this is so self-indulgent. i hope you guys enjoy it! if you like this work, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment because they make my day 💕

special thanks to the angels who helped with ideas: @dreamingofdaddydin @jksprincess10 @mydailyhyperfixations @funnygirlthatgab

additional warnings/tags: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, story contains visual graphics, everyone pretend the 12 ft skeleton was available in 2003 and you could stream TV shows, no sarah, no outbreak, neighbor feuds, enemies to lovers, oral (explicit f receiving, non-explicit m receiving), semi-public sex, making out in a pool, reader is a menace and arguably the bad neighbor here, unprotected p in v, use of sex toys, praise kink, pet names, dirty talk. let me know if any are missing!

Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever. 

Your issues with him started on your first Halloween in the neighborhood. You had moved into your new home a few months prior, thrilled that you finally managed to escape the horrors of apartment living. You were now the proud owner of a little single story two bedroom craftsman style home, complete with fenced in backyard and a pool. 

You loved your little house and the neighborhood was ideal, quiet but tight knit. The neighbor to your left, an elderly woman named Betty, had invited you over for tea and cookies and given you the lowdown on the neighborhood gossip.

The neighbor to your right, Joel Miller, she said, was a wonderful man. Polite, kind, and not too hard on the eyes either. You hadn’t met him yet, but with a glowing review like that, you couldn’t wait until you did.

She had also mentioned that the neighborhood goes all out for Halloween. They even hosted a contest for the best decorated house. Your mind already raced with the possibilities.

You loved Halloween. In Texas, the stifling heat finally eased around that time, dropping to a slightly more tolerable range in the 80s with cooler nights. You loved seeing all the displays in the stores and how abandoned storefronts would be overtaken by whole companies dedicated to Halloween. You watched all the horror movies you could and on the weekends you’d seek out local fall festivals because you’re a sucker for candy apples and funnel cake.

No one ever decorated at the apartment complex you previously lived in, so you were extra excited to decorate your house and yard. You bought fake tombstones and plastic skeletons for the yard, spider webs and little ghosts to hang in the trees. You carved two pumpkins to set on either side of the steps leading up to your front door and made little ghost statues out of tomato cages, foam balls, and white fabric. You even strung purple lights through your hedges. 

You were totally going to win the decorating contest. You were confident that you would.

Until you woke up Halloween morning and Joel Miller had somehow decorated his entire home in the time that you had been sleeping, blissfully unaware.

The man had somehow managed to set up an entire army of skeletons, including a handmade wooden jail stuffed with ones trying to escape. There were some posed on the house itself, climbing up the sides and the roof. He had some coming out of the ground, red spotlights fixed on them for an eerie glow. But perhaps most impressive of all was the twelve foot skeleton with glowing red eyes that was posed near the makeshift jail, holding the door open like it was releasing the trapped undead soldiers.

Joel Miller had the motherfucking twelve foot skeleton. You wanted one of those so bad but it was always sold out. You checked every nearby Home Depot for months trying to find one and here Joel Miller has one, taunting you.

He won the decorating contest, sweeping the victory from right under your feet.

It may seem silly, but that was the moment you decided Joel Miller was the worst neighbor ever.

When you were buying your first home, you had been meticulous in calculating your finances in order to comfortably afford the purchase. You did not, however, account for having to repair your air conditioning system within less than a year of moving in. This made a significant dent in your savings, which led you to cut your expenses elsewhere.

One such expense was your internet. Why? Because it turns out Joel Miller, asshole neighbor, doesn’t password protect his router and you can just use his.

It’s not like he would notice.

_________________

Joel stares at his internet bill in confusion. This is the third month in a row that he’s been charged for going over his data allowance. That doesn’t even make sense. He’s the only person in his house and he only uses the internet on his phone to check the news and sometimes play Candy Crush. It’s why he got the lowest data plan in the first place.

He tries to think of what he could be doing differently, but comes up short. Hell, he’s not even home most of the day. He works long hours at different contracting jobs, so his free time is spent watching TV (cable, not connected to the internet), and sleeping.

But then it hits him. The overage charges never happened until you moved in. 

Joel powers up his ancient laptop and has to Google search what a router is. Turns out, he doesn’t have a password set on his. Which means, if his hunch is correct, you’ve just had free access to his internet this whole time.

He learns how to set a password and, more importantly, he learns how to change the name of his router. 

He needs to send a message, after all.

_________________

You’re about to start another episode of Grey’s Anatomy, courtesy of your friend generously sharing her Netflix password, when you receive an error message. 

No internet connectivity. Try again?

The little WiFi connection icon is missing from your toolbar. You investigate further, opening the list of options and scanning them for Joel’s, conveniently titled Miller.

But instead you find a new name.

GetYourOwnWiFi. And it’s password protected.

“Son of a bitch,” you hiss.

Joel Miller’s tree is always dropping debris in your yard. The limbs have grown over your shared fence line and on windy days you have to deal with extra pool clean up on top of the usual mess it makes of your yard, twigs and leaves ruining your perfectly manicured backyard oasis. 

You’ve asked him to trim the branches. Left him notes on his door and in his mailbox, but he still hasn’t done it.

Today you’re sending a new kind of message.

He’s going to wish he’d listened when you asked nicely. 

_________________

“What the fuck,” Joel growls when he gets home just after sunset. There’s piles of leaves and twigs littering his front porch, almost to the point that he can’t see the concrete slab beneath. 

There’s no way this just happened through the force of nature. It’s been a perfectly clear day in Austin and besides, there’s no trees at the front of his house for this kind of mess to fall from.

Which can only mean…

His eyes spot the bright pink Post-It note stuck to his door and he curses under his breath as he stomps up the porch steps and rips it down.

Here. Clean your own mess up for once. 

xoxo

Joel crumbles the note in his fist, taking deep breaths as he heads for the garage to grab a broom and a trash bag.

He’ll get you back.

He always does. 

You love animals, especially cats. Unfortunately, being allergic, you don’t have the option to have one of your own all the time. 

When you spot the first neighborhood stray, your heart lights up with excitement. It’s a little black and white cat with bright green eyes that walks right up to you while you’re getting your mail, winding its lithe body between your legs and purring against you. You stoop to pet it, mentally reminding yourself to wash your hands before you touch your face, otherwise your eyes would be itchy for hours.

“Hello, little baby,” you murmur, rubbing a hand down the length of its back. “How are you?” The cat gives a strong meow in response. “Oh, are you hungry? Let’s go see if I have anything I can give you as a treat.”

Back inside your house, you locate a can of tuna and dump it into a small plastic bowl. The cat sits patiently on the porch, tail flicking in anticipation. It hops down and shoves its little face into the bowl as soon as it’s within reach. 

“So cute,” you say, giving it one last pat on its back before returning inside.

_________________

There’s a cat sitting on Joel’s porch, watching him as he parks his truck. It’s the second time this week there’s been a cat lurking around his property. The first one he found out in the backyard, tearing up his flower beds.

The neighborhood had never had an issue with cats before, so he has a sneaking suspicion that you’re, once again, the root cause of his suffering. 

His suspicions are confirmed when he sees you on the porch one day, laying out a row of plastic bowls filled with what he assumes is cat food. At first he’s annoyed that he’s right, it is you feeding the cats, which is why they’ve been terrorizing his yard, but then you turn around and he’s struck by how utterly gorgeous you are. 

This is the first time Joel’s ever actually seen you. He’s usually out of the house before dawn and back after sunset, which must not coincide with your schedule since you’ve never run into each other. He remembers Betty, the older woman who lives to your left, telling him about meeting you.

“Gorgeous girl, that one. You two would probably hit it off,” she said as he hung a picture frame for her.

“Don’t go playin’ matchmaker, Betty,” he replied. 

But damn, seeing you now in a pair of little shorts that hug your hips and ass just right and a tight white t-shirt that shows off the tiniest bit of skin above the waist of your shorts is making him think he should have taken Betty up on her word.

Joel’s so distracted that he almost misses the way the cat on his porch hits one of his planters with his paw, knocking the ceramic over and spilling dirt all over the ground.

“Fuck!”

_________________

There’s a note on your door the next morning, a torn piece of paper with a familiar scrawl of messy handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Stop feeding the cats or you owe me new plants.

-Joel

The note actually makes you giggle. Betty sees you on your porch and beckons you over to hers.

“What’s got you gigglin’ like a schoolgirl?” The older woman asks.

“What? Nothing,” you reply too quickly.

“Wouldn’t happen to be a note from a certain tall, strong, and handsome young neighbor of yours?”

“No, definitely not.” 

She smirks at you. “You better quit terrorizin’ that poor man, honey.”

“Now, Betty, where would the fun be in that?” You say brightly as you head back to your house, the sound of her laughter following you through the door. 

There’s a package on Joel’s porch when he gets home from work. He doesn’t remember ordering anything, but he wouldn’t put it past himself.

He brings it inside without thinking twice or checking the label, chucking it on the counter with the rest of his mail as he searches for a box cutter in his junk drawer.

Joel cuts through the packing tape, lifting the flaps and rifling through the packing paper to pull out the contents.

It’s another box, light pink with the image of a hot pink u-shaped device on the top. The text across the top reads REMOTE VIBRATOR in black script.

He nearly drops the box in surprise, fumbling it in his hands. He’s certain he didn’t order this. 

Joel pulls the shipping box back towards him, keeping an eye on the vibrator like it might grow legs and run away. He flips the lid over to inspect the shipping label, his eyebrows rising as he reads your name and home address instead of his.

He looks at the toy again, mind whirling with images of you on your back, remote in hand as you bring yourself pleasure. He coughs, clearing his head and adjusts himself in his jeans.

He searches the junk drawer for a sheet of paper and a pen.

_________________

You’re staring at the delivery confirmation email from Lovelies, panic creeping down your spine. It says that your new toy has been delivered but there’s no package in your mailbox or on your porch. You’ve checked everywhere.

Which means it was either delivered to one of your neighbors or someone stole it.

If you’re being honest, you’d rather someone stole it than to have to go knock on Betty or, god forbid, Joel’s door to ask if they accidentally received your sex toy delivery. Your cheeks heat at even the thought of Joel knowing what you ordered. You head back inside empty handed.

Later, when you open your door to feed the cats, you’re surprised to find a box on your welcome mat. You set the bowls of food down and carry it inside, your excitement mounting. 

But when you open the box, you’re mortified to find a torn piece of paper on top of the packing material, Joel Miller’s familiar handwriting on the sheet.

Interesting choice

-Joel

“Fucking asshole,” you mumble, crumbling the note and tossing it to the side. You pull your new toy from its box and turn it on. “Huh. Fully charged.”

Your jerk of a neighbor won’t ruin your night if this little gadget has anything to say about it.

It’s Joel’s one day to sleep in and you’ve been blasting your music all fucking morning. He’s already got his head shoved under his pillow but the sound still filters through, ruining his chances of any extra hours of sleep to make up for his lack of it during the week.

He rolls out of bed with a heavy sigh, scrubbing a hand across his beard. He heads downstairs to make coffee, the heavy beat of your music chasing him through the house. He can feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing behind his eyes.

Joel tries to tune it out. Really. He does. As much as the two of you butt heads, he doesn’t mean anything by it, not really. He doesn’t want to be an asshole, nor is he trying to be one. 

But if you don’t turn your music down soon he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

He gives you another hour. He’s feeling generous. But when the music just keeps playing, he finally snaps. 

Joel shoves his feet into the work boots beside the door, paying little mind to the fact that he’s not wearing socks. In fact, he’s still in his sleep pants and ratty old t-shirt but he’s too far gone to care.

Once he’s in front of your door, he bangs on the wood with his fists. He waits for a response and when he doesn’t get one, probably since you can’t fucking hear him, he bangs again. There’s movement from the corner of his eye and he turns his head to find Betty watching him, lips tilted in a smirk.

“You okay with this?” Joel asks, gesturing vaguely to your house to indicate the noise level inside. 

“Don’t be such a party pooper,” she replies before shuffling inside. He turns back to the door to pummel it with his fists again but he’s surprised to find it open.

“Howdy, neighbor,” you say, eyebrow raised and arms crossed beneath your breasts.

Which were currently covered by the tiniest bikini top he’s ever seen. His eyes trail lower, over the expanse of your stomach to the matching bikini bottoms that peek out past the folded waist of your denim shorts.

“Uh,” he says, followed by a strained cough. “Hi.”

_________________

Joel Miller is standing on your porch dressed in a threadbare t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms that sit low on his hips, a strip of soft tan belly peeking out from above the waistband when he stretches an arm up to run his fingers through his dark, messy curls.

Christ, you think. The man is prettier than Betty gave him credit for.

“Can I help you?” You ask. His eyes snap from where they’d been lingering on your chest and you straighten your back just the slightest bit at the knowledge he’d been checking you out. 

Joel clears his throat. “Your music is way too loud.”

You roll your eyes. “Does it hurt?”

“Does…what hurt?”

“Always having a stick up your ass.” 

Betty barks a laugh from her porch and Joel’s head turns so fast you have whiplash just watching him. He throws his hands up.

“Who’s side are you on, Betty?!” He shouts. 

You’re bent over, laughing so hard your stomach hurts and tears form at the corners of your eyes. When you finally catch your breath and return your attention to Joel, he’s got his hands on his hips and an impressive furrow between his brows.

“Listen, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I’m about to go out by the pool and have a drink. Wanna join?” You ask. 

“I don’t have my suit with me.”

“Well good thing you’re just right next door, huh? Go get it. I’ll leave the door unlocked,” you tell him before shutting the door in his face.

_________________

Joel returns to your house thirty minutes later, showered and wearing his swim trunks and a new t-shirt. He wipes his sweaty hands against his chest, not entirely sure why he’s nervous. He’s just having a drink with his annoying neighbor to hash out all the issues. No big deal.

Your music is still playing when he enters your house, giving the door a courtesy knock before letting himself in. The front door opens directly into the main living space, a large sectional couch facing a TV mounted between two windows to his right and a dining nook to his left. Your kitchen is nestled in the corner, just past an opening to a hallway that he assumes leads to the bedrooms. Your place is bursting with colors and textures and patterns, from the floral blanket draped over your velvet couch to the leaf patterned wallpaper and natural stone backsplash in your kitchen. You have tea towels hanging from your stove that say “ANOTHER ONE BITES THE CRUST” with a picture of a pizza, and an impressive looking bar cart that houses a variety of liquor bottles and glassware.

There’s a splash from outside and Joel sees that the sliding glass door to your patio is open. He steps onto the concrete deck, surveying the backyard oasis you’ve created for yourself. The pool is on the smaller side but still, it’s a pool, and Joel’s a little jealous of it. You’ve got chaise loungers lined near the edge and matching chairs that surround a little fire pit further out in the yard. There’s string lights hung from the shade canopy that extends from your house. 

You pop up from beneath the surface, your hair slicked back from your face and little droplets of water clinging to your skin. Joel stands there, unsure of what to do, until you swim to the ledge closest to him and drape your arms over it, regarding him with keen eyes.

“Hi,” you say. He swallows, the nerves returning as he tries desperately to not let his gaze fall below your neck.

“Hey,” he replies. 

“There’s beer in the cooler. Grab me one?” You ask before ducking back beneath the surface. He can see you swim towards the edge of the pool that the loungers face. He grabs two beers as instructed, popping the tops with the bottle opener fixed to the lid of the cooler. You break the surface once more, swimming over to where he sits on the end of one loungers.

Joel passes you the beer and you tip it towards him in thanks before taking a deep pull, your lips wrapped around the lip of the bottle and distracting him monumentally. 

“So, you’re the Joel Miller, huh?” You ask. “Tell me about yourself.”

The two of you talk for what feels like ages. He learns that you’re a software engineer and you work a typical 9-5 schedule, which is why he’s never caught you around the neighborhood before. You don’t like to be outdoors much, preferring reading and catching up on your Netflix shows. You have two brothers, both of whom are older than you and live on the opposite side of the country, but you visit them around Christmas. You love animals, but have major allergies so you settle for fleeting moments with the neighborhood strays and occasionally watching your best friend’s dog when she goes out of town. 

He tells you about his work as a contractor, which he’s been doing since he was fresh out of high school and had no idea what to do with his life. He talks about his brother Tommy, how they work together on most projects and they want to start their own contracting business, but that’s a dream for another day. He mentions he’s more of a dog person than a cat person, especially because he has a grudge against the orange neighborhood cat that is still tearing up his flowerbeds. 

Joel loves the way you laugh, bright and full bodied as you toss your head back and bring a hand to your chest each time. You talk with your hands a lot, which is funny because you keep letting go of the pool ledge and scrambling to grab it again when gravity pulls you down in the water. If he doesn’t give enough detail in an answer, you’re not shy about asking him for more information, like when he said his favorite color was blue.

“Okay, but what shade of blue?” You asked.

“Just…blue?” Joel asked, clearly not understanding your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Men. I like lavender. Not just purple. Purple is a range of shades.”

“I guess…navy?”

“Now you’re getting somewhere, big guy!”

The conversation lulls as you share your drinks in companionable silence. The Texas sun bears down on his back, his t-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his sweat slick skin. He bites the bullet and reaches behind his head to tug the damp fabric off, leaving him in just his swim trunks. He doesn’t miss the appreciative once-over you give him.

You extend a hand to him. “Help me out?””

Joel grasps your hand in his, marveling for a moment how small it is in his broad palm. He’s distracted enough that he doesn’t notice the michievous look on your face, or the way you plant your feet to the pool wall for leverage.

You give a sharp tug with both hands and he goes toppling into the pool with a surprised shout.

_________________

You’re laughing so hard you can barely catch your breath. The look on Joel’s face as you tugged him into the pool will be burned into your memory for years to come. You’d been waiting all afternoon for the man to take his shirt off, not only because you were admittedly dying to see what was hiding beneath the fabric, but also because you wanted exact a little neighborly revenge for stomping over to your house to tell you your music was too loud.

You’re feeling mighty accomplished, right up until you feel a hand wrap around your ankle and you get pulled beneath the surface with no warning. 

You open your eyes, chlorine stinging them as you see Joel torpedo towards the shallow end of the pool. You give chase, breaking the surface with a gasp.

“You asshole–”

Joel cuts you off by wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you close and tipping his head down to capture your lips with his. He kisses like a man starved and he tastes like sunshine and chlorine and the beer he’d been drinking as his tongue slides hungrily against yours. He uses his arm to press your body to his, but it’s not close enough.

You wrap your arms around his neck and lift your legs to circle his waist, your center grinding against his rapidly hardening length. Joel trails his hands up and down your back, stopping to grab rough handfuls of your ass as he groans against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he curses. “This little fuckin’ bikini has been torturin’ me all day.”

“Why don’t you just take it off then?” You offer. He pulls back to watch your face as his fingers find the strings of your bottoms beneath the water, giving both sides a quick tug until you feel the material fall away. His hand creeps up your back, pulling at the strings holding your top together around your back and neck until they, too, fall away.

Joel walks the two of you forward until your back collides with the rough stone of the pool wall.  He presses a muscular thigh between your legs, boxing you in with his body. Your hips jerk at the sudden pressure and friction against your bare pussy, a moan slipping from your lips as Joel presses kisses to your jaw and neck, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth.

“You gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver dance down your spine despite the Texas heat. “Those sounds are just for me, isn’t that right?”

You nod your head quickly and he rewards you with another toe curling kiss. Your hips rock against his thigh and he swallows every little whimper as his hands explore your body.

“Joel,” you whine. His fingers pinch and pull your nipples before he soothes them with sweet circles of his calloused thumb.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He asks. One of his hands slides across your thigh and your breath hitches as he brings it dangerously close to your pussy before trailing it back down. “You need somethin’?”

“Need you to touch me.”

“That right? You want me to take care of that pretty little pussy?”

“Mhm,” you hum. “Please.”

“So polite. Where’s all that attitude from earlier, hm?” Joel asks, sarcasm dripping from every word. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I can be rude, Miller. You want that instead?”

“Trust me, I know, but I think I like you better when you’re beggin’ for me,” he replies with a grin. 

Joel’s hands grab onto your waist and he hoists you up onto the ledge. His broad shoulders press against the back of your thighs and his arms drape across your hips. He smiles at you, mouth tauntingly close to where you’re desperate for relief. You lean back on your elbows, the concrete warm against your bare skin and the sun washing over you.

“How about you show me those nice manners one more time?” He asks. 

You grit your teeth. “Joel, I swear to god I will go inside and lock you out–”

Your threats are cut off by your startled moan as he licks through your folds, broad swipes of his tongue from your fluttering entrance to your aching clit. His sweet brown eyes are sinful as he looks up at you from between your thighs, devouring your pussy like his last meal. His nose rubs against your clit each time his tongue dips inside of you and you’re quickly reduced to a writhing mess.

You shift your weight to one arm and reach down with the other to tangle your fingers into his hair. He moans appreciatively against your cunt, the vibrations making you keen. When your hips start to fight against his hold, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking and rolling it with his tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that,” you babble, trying to keep your voice down as you balance right on the edge of your orgasm. He hums again, tongue swirling over your clit until that final thread snaps and you free fall into oblivion, fingers curling tightly against his scalp and making him groan as he works you through your release.

Your limbs go boneless in the aftermath and you collapse against the ground, an arm over your eyes to block out the sun. You hear the sound of water sloshing before Joel lays beside you on his back, arms beneath his head. He turns to look at you, his bright smile making your heart flutter in your chest. 

And when he extends an arm out for you to snuggle up against him, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Joel Miller isn’t such a bad neighbor after all.

“What do you mean you thought I was the asshole?!” Joel asks indignantly as he leaves your bathroom. He’s got a towel held up around his waist and you’re finding it hard to concentrate on his words at this exact moment.

You’ve just finished showering together after your outdoor activities, where you returned his poolside favor with some attention of your own. Now, you’re laying on the bed in your own towel, tired from the sun and the sex. 

You’ve also just admitted that you thought he was the worst neighbor. An asshole even. And now he’s looking at you like you’re insane.

“You stole my internet!” He exclaims. 

“You can’t prove that,” you reply, maybe a bit too quickly. He raises an eyebrow at you, but you refuse to back down.

“Fine, but you put all those twigs and shit on my porch.”

“They were from your tree, I was simply…returning your property.”

“And the cats?” He crosses his arms. “Because of you, my flowerbeds look like shit and I’ve lost two planters.”

“Not my fault they can sense you’re the weak link. They’re asserting their dominance. Hiss at them or something,” you say with a shrug.

Joel gapes at you. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look, it’s water under the bridge now, right? What can I do to make it up to you?”

He’s silent for a moment before a mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Where’s that toy you bought, sweetheart?”

_________________

Joel’s got you on your back, your wireless vibrator placed snugly inside of your and against your clit. You’re glaring at him because he’s stopped you from another orgasm. He’s quickly becoming obsessed with that fire in your eyes and the curl of your lip when you’re mad at him.

He presses a trail of kisses from your ankle to the inside of your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin close to your pussy just to hear you gasp. He continues across your abdomen and your breasts, stopping to lavish attention to each sensitive nipple, your back arching against him for more.

“Joel,” you whine, squirming beneath him. He stretches up to capture your lips in a kiss, your lips dragging across his in the most addicting way. His cock slides against the smooth skin of your hip, making him groan. With a flick of his thumb, he turns the toy back on. “Oh, fuck!”

“Want you to come for me this time, baby,” Joel tells you. “Then I want you to come all over my cock, okay?”

You nod, back bowing and muscles straining as your writhe against the vibrations. Joel sits back on his heels to watch you, the way your mouth is dropped open in a silent shout and how your eyes find his at the exact moment you start to come undone.

“Oh my god,” you pant as Joel swiftly removes the toy, the pink silicone shiny with your release. He tosses it to the side and presses his cock to your fluttering hole, sinking inside of you with a deep groan. Your walls are still clenching with the aftershocks of your orgasm as he begins to thrust, slow and deep.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good,” he growls. He uses a hand to press one of your knees closer to your chest, his fingers wrapped tightly beneath your knee. 

The change in angle gets him deeper and his pace grows faster in response to your moans. He can feel you start to pulse around him, each drag of his cock out of your cunt getting harder as your walls squeeze, desperately trying to keep him inside. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel commands. “Wanna see you come for me again, pretty girl, come on.”

Your fingers find your clit, swirling through the mess of slick coating your folds. Your eyes are glued to him as you work yourself to the same rhythm of his thrusts. He knows you’re close when your eyes start to flutter, your head dropping back against the mattress and your thighs going tight against his hips.

“That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, just like that,” he growls as you come with a shout of his name. “Christ, you look so damn good.”

You blink at him, your eyes hazy and your smile languid as he chases his own release, using your sensitive cunt for his pleasure. When it gets to be too much, too close, he withdraws, fisting his cock with rough strokes until he comes in thick splashes against your belly.

He collapses on the bed beside you, both of your chests heaving with deep breaths. After a moment, he uses one of the towels to wipe you clean, tossing it to the floor. You glare at him. 

“You better put that in the hamper later,” you admonish. He pulls you into his side. 

“So, why exactly did you think I was an asshole neighbor?” He asks. To his surprise, you blush, mumbling something he can’t make out. “What?”

“I said because you beat me at the Halloween decorating contest.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes. You have the twelve foot skeleton and I’m jealous.”

“I’ll get you as many skeletons as you want,” Joel laughs. You smile at him.

“Sounds good to me, big guy.”

_________________

The following Halloween, there are two twelve foot skeletons in the neighborhood, and they live right next door to each other.

Joel Miller taglist: 

@huffle-punk @johnwatsn @hopelessromantic727  @whereasport @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfelll @thedeadsingwithdirtintheirmouths @mydailyhyperfixations @liati2000 @ghostofjoharvelle @cutesyscreenname @morgaussy @letsgroovetonighttt @endlessthxxghts @fake-bleach @brilliantopposite187 @mattmurdock1021 @str84pedro @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @kirsteng42 @caatheeriinee07 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @evyiione @leeeesahhh @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @loveliestofthoughts @theviewfromtheritz @brittmb115 @uncassettodiricordi @pedritosgfreal @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @casa-boiardi @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @decemberdolly @spookyemorockbabe @reader-without-a-story @katmoonz @simping-soldat @mswarriorbabe80 @orphanbird95 @shatteredbaby @tusk89 @gingersince97 @mssbridgerton @internetobsessed1234-blog @sloanexx @manazo @bigboiseason123 @bean-is-reading @darlingpedro @silkiers @pascals-cat @bbyanarchist @therealcap @pedrosgrogu @dreamingofdaddydin

Want more Joel Miller? Check out my masterlist.

[pfhwrittes]

i’m so deeply sad at the moment that i’m surrounding myself in fluffy fluffy fics and just hoping for a soft landing for myself but when i try to write it’s just either a) minimal effort or b) so fucking sad

like i’m trying to write a retail hell au with the tf141 boys but yeah. anyway have some notes under the cut about where i’ve stuck the boys so far.

so imagine with me that for whatever reason tf141 end up working in B&Q (home depot for those of you over the pond)

gaz works in the kitchens, bathrooms and bedroom department as a designer/consultant. why? because he’s pretty and can charm anyone into an upsell. oh you came in to get a quote on cheap sanitary ware (toilet, sink, bathtub/shower)? suddenly the customer (“client, they’re always clients. sounds better y’know?”) walking out with a £2000 order containing new tiles, a waterfall shower head, walk in shower array, £120 basin taps, a new towel warmer and a beautiful mirrored cabinet. you love watching him work because he’s just so charming and personable. always shoots you a wink from behind the computer too.

simon works stockflow. he’s in the warehouse or yard exclusively. smashes through deliveries and stock at a rapid pace and then stands in the yard smoking. no he doesn’t need any help, fuck off. leave it alone you’re going to fuck up his system. incredibly territorial over the yard/warehouse and only lets john, soap, gaz in. has a hand written sign pinned by the doors “NO ENTRY UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. ESPECIALLY FOR YOU.” the store a manager takes it down periodically. simon puts it back up. nods at you when you pass the entrance to the warehouse but doesn’t speak. coincidentally he seems to be by the entrance shuffling delivery notes or paperwork whenever you walk past.

soap technically works the interior decorating department. technically. he loves working on the paint mixing desk and flirting with all the women that come up looking for just the right shade of whatever trendy colour has been advertised in home and gardens this season but will absolutely wander off to go bother price/gaz/simon/you whenever he feels like it. constantly being called for on the tannoy system “this is a staff announcement could john mactavish please return to the paint desk, customers waiting. that’s john mactavish to the paint desk. thank you”. you’re positive he ignores the first tannoy call just so he can hear you get more exasperated on the second and third call you put out for him.

price is the hardware, electrical and plumbing supervisor and technically the stockflow supervisor. barely ever steps foot in the warehouse aside from a quick check in because he knows simon has it covered. hates management meetings and always finds himself something time critical/difficult to put down when he knows there’s one coming up. a constant presence on the shop floor. always the first supervisor to respond to the tannoy when a customer is kicking up a fuss at the customer service desk. always seems to know where you are, whether that’s on the customer service desk, serving customers on the checkouts or putting away go backs in various aisles. checks in frequently with a little smile and a “alright love?” before moving on to whatever task he can do to keep him out of the store manager’s sights. reminds everyone to take their breaks regardless of whether or not they’re technically part of his department.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This 1922 home in Los Angeles, California started out as a power substation. It closed down and was professionally remodeled in the 1990s. Since then, it was a home, an art gallery, and a show dog kennel. It has 3bd, 4ba, & is listed for $7M. It was also the backdrop for several horror films.

This entrance looks like it was an art gallery. It looks like it hasn't been painted or cleaned since then, and the look in this area is very industrial.

Looks like a a game room in this corner. There's a TV and chairs, but there's also a game table and pool table.

There's a catwalk above this area, and you can see through the two glass windows, the separate living quarters.

That glass structure is interesting. This is definitely still an art gallery.

Now, we're in the residence and this the living room. The style is modern and industrial. It's an interesting building.

It certainly is roomy. The dining room easily accommodates this large table with upholstered chairs. Display shelving is in the window, probably from the gallery.

The kitchen is very industrial. It even looks like a factory kitchen. It doesn't have a warm atmosphere.

Isn't this an interesting bedroom?

Look at the size of that counter. Why did they only give it one sink, though.

The main bedroom is a completely different and unique style.

There's a walk-in closet/dressing room.

Plus this very compact and sleek en-suite.

There are several patio areas behind the building.

Weird looking roof.

Even though it's in Los Angeles, this is a terrible area, so I don't think it's worth $7M. Can you imagine sitting all alone at night, lucky to have a few trees, next to a semi truck depot, a highway, across which, is a shipping container yard.

[scotianostra]

On November 16th 1956 the last of the original trams ran in Edinburgh.

Sixty five years ago this evening, thousands turned out to wave an emotional goodbye to the city’s original tram system before it was scrapped.

Trams had been falling out of favour across the country since the end of the Second World War. Cities were expanding, and the rail-and-wire-bound trams of yesteryear could not compete with the flexibility and cost-­effectiveness of the modern motor bus. Municipal tramways up and down the country faced the heavy axe of progress.

The decision to decommission Edinburgh’s tram network arose in 1952, its 47 miles taking just four years to dismantle.

In the last week, a special service painted handsomely in white and gold livery was laid on to tour what was left of the old network.

All ordinary tram passengers were issued with a bright yellow “Last Tram Week” ticket; a masterstroke by Edinburgh Corporation which did a “roaring trade” in the final seven days.

The last hurrah arrived on Friday, November 16; a suitably cold, grey and miserable day. That evening, a procession of tramcars made its way from the Braids terminus to Shrubhill depot, taking in much of the original 1871 route. Ten trams were laid on due to the demand – one car containing the very city councillors who had consigned the trams to the history books in the first place.

It seemed that the entire city was out in force that night; throngs of people lined the pavements and eager spectators hung out of tenement windows to catch a glimpse of the historic procession.

Motor cars and buses added to the atmosphere by tooting their horns.

At the Mound and Hanover Street, an enormous crowd reaching 60 or 70 yards up the road gathered to wave goodbye to the last cars.

Police, mounted and on foot, kept the mass of spectators from pressing against the vehicles. Souvenir-hungry “boys and youths” armed with screwdrivers were reported aboard the final convoy, keen to secure their own little bit of history from the inside of the cabins.

Regardless of whether you lamented their passing or were glad to see them vanish, it was certainly the end of an era. From the earliest horse-drawn trams and cable cars of the turn of the century, to the electric system implemented in the 1920s, tramcars had been present in the Capital, in one form or another, for generations.

Eighty-five years of municipal tram history, which at its height had carried around 200 million passengers a year on routes covering Corstorphine to Levenhall, and just about everywhere in between, had been consigned for good to the great catenary wire in the sky... or so we all thought.

[arbitrarycategories]

Hi! I was lurking through the reblogs on a post and you mentioned something about mosquito repellent plants? Can I pleeeeease hear you infodumb about that I'm so tired of them

This is all from memory so may be a little inaccurate and I will not be citing sources, but I have written a paper on this (in high school so it’s not in any databases) and all my sources had to be from peer reviewed journals so this IS academically informed.

Okay

SO first off: most mosquito-repellent plants work by releasing chemical agents that may smell good to US but smell very bad to the mosquitoes. The problem with this is that these oils tend to be released as globules that cling to the plants with fairly high surface tension, so unless the plants are disturbed somehow (wind or animals/humans) the oil isn’t released into the air and it does fuck all to actually repel mosquitoes.

That said, the best accessible mosquito-repelling plant is a plant called LEMONGRASS. If you live in the states then Home Depot sells this usually. If you don’t live in the states then idk, check your local garden center. I live in Texas and our lemongrass dies every winter but tends to come back on its own in the spring, and it smells really good to humans. You can also throw the dead grass into the yard and mow over it to release extra scent.

The most EFFECTIVE mosquito-repellent plant is something called lemon-eucalyptus which is a lab-created crossbreed produced somewhere in either Australia or New Zealand. I don’t remember which I just remember being super mad that I couldn’t get my hands on it for experiments. Anyway there’s a special compound in the oil this plant produces that lemongrass shares. I don’t remember the name of it but mosquitoes hate it. Plant lemongrass :)

If you can’t get your hands on lemongrass, rosemary will also repel mosquitoes, though there’s not much academic literature about this one and various mom-blogs all contradict each other about its effectiveness. It’s pretty smelly (good to humans bad to bugs!) and will repel a variety of insects.

Citronella contains a compound used in current commercial bug repellent, so it is also good to plant! I could never get mine to be very big though. You can also buy torches (like decorative tiki torches) with citronella oil in them which are designed to repel bugs by releasing the oil in the smoke.

Mint will also repel insects and mice though I could never narrow down if mosquitoes were among the list of insects that mint repels! Pro tip: PLANT MINT IN POTS. DO NOT PLANT MINT DIRECTLY IN THE GROUND. It will take over everything <3

Lastly, basil and thyme are reported to be insect repellents! I have not tested these myself (I tried but there were Circumstances) but a variety of home-blogs say that these work. I found basil in an academically sourced list but found no proof of thyme working. I despair at the lack of academic literature on this topic. Anyway.

Also, did you know you can purchase mosquito larvae on Amazon? It’s about $10 USD for 100 larvae.

If you choose to disturb your plants yourself to release the oils then be ready to have very strong smelling hands. Also, if you get your hands on cheesecloth (lightweight) you can see simple sleeves and boil one of these plants, then dip the cloth in the boiled water. The oil from the plant will soak in and the cloth will smell like it once dry. Idk how long these last because I never properly tested them, but I kept some in a drawer for a year and they were still pretty smelly. If you wore them out and about they would probably last about a month before the small wore off. Cheesecloth is extremely light so it shouldn’t be much of a bother in the summer, however idk how well they would hold the oil if you got sweat on them.

It’s also important to note that different hormones are capable of attracting or repelling bugs, so some plants may not be strong enough to get the job done if you’re particularly bug-attractive (I am rip). Also if you’ve ever noticed that you get a ton of bug bites but a friend doesn’t then may not be random. They may be repellent, and you may be attractive. This fact blew my mind when I learned it. Go forth and repel bugs!!!!

[leeltalk]

A More Complete History of America

Section 1 - When to Begin?

Folsom, Clovis and The First Debate

Part 2 - Clovis

There is some dispute on the true type site of the predecessor of Folsom. The Type Site, the first site to be formally described to a scientific audience, often dictates naming rights. This leads to some academic saltiness and state rivalry. In the interest of fairness, we’ll actually start in Colorado.

Along the South Platte River, southwest of the small town of Milliken, Colorado once stood the Dent Railroad Depot. In 1932, strong Spring rains exposed several very large bones in a sandstone gully west of the tracks.

The son of the Depot’s manager informed his geology professor, Jesuit priest Conrad Bilgery. He took some of his students to the site in September of that year, where Father Bilgery determined the bones were that of a mammoth and contacted Jesse D. Figgins.

Yes. The same Figgins that was the Director of the Colorado Museum of Natural History.

Figgens sent a museum staff member to excavate the remains, though Father Bilgery and his students were allowed to assist. In the end, 13 partial skeletons from 5 adult females and 8 young mammoths were sent to Denver, along with two intact stone points.

Figgins published the find in the Proceedings of the CMNH in 1933 - the museum bulletin essentially - describing the points as belonging to a Late Ice Age culture.

Sadly, internal museum publications don’t count. I don’t make the rules.

In 1929, EB Howard was part of Alden Mason’s Southwestern Expeditions as a representative of the University Museum of Philadelphia. They had come to the Guadalupe Mountains west of Carlsbad, NM to search for archaeological sites, and were quickly directed by local Bill Burnet to a cave locally known for its artifacts.

It's unclear how long the predominantly white local population had known about the cave. Burnet reported it had once been sealed, but he and his brother had busted through the stacked stone wall. At some point, they had dug 3 or 4 holes,each about a yard deep. Beads, pieces of sandals, hide, and several baskets, one containing charred bones (which may have been human remains as cremation was practiced in the region at various times in the past) were all removed.

Still, the site was relatively intact. The pits had been dug straight down, and, aside from stones and debris being moved at the surface, most of the ground appeared undisturbed.

Excavations began in 1930. As Howard and the team had hoped, by the time their trench hit that 3 ft deep mark, they were in undisturbed soils. Like most caves and rock shelters, Burnet had little stratigraphy, or distinct soil layers, to go off of and they were about 30 years from widespread radiometric dating, so they attempted to date the cave using the common method of the day: identifying Cultural Horizons.

This meant, quite simply, looking at whatever turned up in their trench and trying to identify the age of that layer by the artifacts it contained. More baskets, sandals and bags found in those between about 1.5 and 3ft down indicated a Basketmaker Culture (an uncreatively named Pueblo precursor). They found several burials, which were likely the reason the cave had been sealed.

Above the Basketmaker layers were no distinctive artifacts beyond what had been scattered near the surface by looting. Again, the fact that the cave had been closed off to all but pack rats and other rodents had stopped later people from using it.

It was about 2 feet below the burials, however, that EB Howard made a more unexpected discovery. Among the bones of bison and musk-ox, some of them charred, were thick lenses of ash and charcoal. Hearths. Along one of these rested a fluted stone point that Howard described as Folsom-like. Several bone awls for sewing hides or making beads were also recovered.

Howard was very careful in his initial report of the site in 1931. He made a point of describing the interior of the cave, its geology, condition, and included multiple sketches of the layout. He reiterated that the cave had been sealed, hiding it for generations. He discussed how pack rats could have gotten in and built nests and middens at the surface, but that there was no evidence of burrowing or middens near the remains or below them. It was doubtful, Howard expressed, that the stone point or awls could have been deposited so deep by rodents.

EB Howard took that point to the 1931 Pecos Conference. Among the people he showed it to was Frank Roberts of the Smithsonian.

Cannon AFB was once a small local airstrip. By the early 1930s, it had been named the Clovis Air Field and was expanding. Some of the gravel for the new road construction came from nearby Black Water Draw, a seasonally dry valley crossed by small channels from the infrequent rains located along the Llano Estacado Plateau. The Dustbowl had already stripped away some of the surface layers, and while quarrying workmen revealed, you guessed it, large animal bones. They also turned up a large tooth and a stone point.

In 1932, as he was finishing work at Burnet Cave, it came to the attention of EB Howard that points like those at Folsom had been found in the area. He and his team swung by Clovis to look around, guided by locals AW Anderson and George Roberts, who themselves had taken a keen interest in the site.

The first point had been found by a workman with the gravel company, along with a mammoth tooth, when they had first reached the blue-gray layer at the gravel pit. This was the point that George Roberts had notified Howard about. Roberts had secured the point from the workman and shown it to Howard when he arrived in Clovis.

“The workman, whose honesty I do not question, showed me the spot where he had ploughed up the tooth and this artifact, and there is no doubt in my own mind that they both came from the blue sand on the west side of the gravel pit.” EB Howard

The point itself had been broken long ago, before the workman had uncovered it, as evidenced by the lime crust and was similar to the points from Folsom and about 4 inches long and 2 ¼ in wide, and “extraordinarily thin - ⅛ in at its maximum thickness”.

The summer field season was almost over, but Howard had the opportunity to explore Black Water Draw and view some of the artifacts and bones that had been found. That fall, machinery uncovered another mass of bones in a layer of blue-gray sands below the gravel layers.

Like at Burnet Cave, Howard made detailed notes of the site and its surroundings. Black Water Draw as a whole was dotted by the remains of ancient lakes, ponds and channels. On its western edge and near the Texas border, there were still a few alkali spring ponds. Likely, the Draw had once been a tributary of the nearby Brazos River, or at least drained into it. Where the gravel pits had been dug revealed a clear view of the geologic layers or strata to well below the bone bearing layers.

The bone layers, blue-gray sandy clay, were near, but not at the top. These were water deposited and held many species of diatoms, tiny water dwelling animals, which still live in fresh and saline waters. These diatoms, and the bones of the mammoths and bison, allowed Howard and his team to determine that the blue-gray sands had been deposited in the late Pleistocene, near the end of the Ice Age.

Howard could not begin a full excavation until the summer field season of 1933 and spent the next 4 years in Clovis. On the east side of the gravel pit a flint scraper and charcoal, presumably from a campfire, were among the bones of extinct bison, the first in situ objects found. More scrapers and knives were uncovered near the pit. In a section of Blackwater Draw Howard named the Anderson Lakes, a thick lense-shaped layer of charcoal contained the charred bones of bison (found all over the Lakes), small mammals and birds and a selection of blades and shapers. None of the Anderson Lakes artifacts appeared to be of the “Folsom-type”, even though they came from the same deposits of blue-gray sands.

No mention of a new “Clovis-type” appears in Howard's 1935 report. Instead it included a great deal of discussion of the geology, such as the diatom studies, and theories of how such a site could have come to be. It's here that Howard relays a story from Prentiss Gray, who had studied bison and in 1887 had observed a herd of some 4000 attempt to cross the South Platte River when it was low. “Soon the leaders were stuck in the mud, those behind, pressed forward by the herd, trampled over their struggling companions until the whole bed of the river a half mile wide was filled with dead and dying buffalo. This habit of stampeding was a habit of the wild buffalo.” Howard also shared similar accounts of antelopes in the Congo and Guanacos in Patagonia who had trampled each other or become trapped in frozen mud.

Howard also devoted part of his report to explaining honestly that he, his team and even the other prominent scientists they had brought to Clovis or otherwise consulted, can't say for certain that there had been no mixing of artifacts and layers at the site. Firstly, at and near the windblown surface, were scattered Yuma style points. These were known to be old - no contemporary peoples were known to use points quite like them, but they were from long after the Ice Age. Other points, some Yuma, some of other styles but all of that same old but still recent manufacture, and some pot sherds had been recovered from layers above and within the blue-gray sands. While never found directly alongside the older, unidentified and Folsom-like tools, these finds cast a shadow of doubt as to the antiquity of the flints.

It was in 1937 that JL Cotter, Howard's primary partner on the excavation, published the final report on the The Occurrence of Flints and Extinct Animals in Pluvial Deposits near Clovis, NM (part IV). Though he did not formally classify the points as a new type, this is where they start being referred to as a distinct style that had only been reported before from the Dent Site and Burnet Cave.

By the 1950s, the fluted points had become called Clovis Points and their style and method of manufacture was known to be a precursor to Folsom technology. Radiometric dating, though it would need future calibration and refinement, would first be done in the 1950-60s, returning dates of nearly 10,000 years before present, well within the known range of the late Ice Age.

Hrdlicka died in 1943, and would never accept the findings at Folsom, Clovis or anywhere else.

Sources and further reading/listening:

“THE INITIAL RESEARCH AT CLOVIS, NEW MEXICO: 1932-1937.” Plains Anthropologist 35, no. 130 (1990): 1–20. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25668959.

Cotter J. L. 1937 The Occurrence of Flints and Extinct Animals in Pluvial Deposits near Clovis, New Mexico, Part IV: Report on the Excavations at the Gravel Pit in 1936, Proceedings of the Academy of Natural Sciences of Philadelphia, 89, pp. 1–16

Jesse D. Figgins, “A Further Contribution to the Antiquity of Man in America,” Proceedings of the Colorado Museum of Natural History 12, no. 2 (1933).

Brunswig, R. (2016) The Dent Site: A Late Ice Age Encounter on the South Platte River

for the online Colorado Encyclopedia

Steeves, P. F.C. (2022) The Indigenous Paleolithic of the Western Hemisphere University Press Audiobooks

Meltzer, D.J. (2011) First Peoples in A New World: Colonizing Ice Age America University Press Audiobooks

Adovadio, J.M., Page, J., (2022) The First Americans: In Pursuit of Archaeology’s Greatest Mystery Tantor Audio

Hamalainen, P. (2022) Indigenous Continent: The Epic Contest for North America

Howard, Edgar B.. "Burnet Cave." The Museum Journal XXIV, no. 2-3 (June, 1935): 62-79. Accessed March 13, 2024. https://www.penn.museum/sites/journal/9515/

[jackrabbitomniscient]

So my brother got these bacon gumballs at a yard sale that are from the year I was born. These ancient gumballs are all misshapen and stuck together like they've been trapped in a hot car for years. I tried one and it tastes like the smell of Home Depot times one thousand. They contain so much liquid smoke that they have the taste of a cremated pig. They also have a weird latexy-bean thing going on and I'm not here for it. They also have a weirdly familiar taste to them that could only be experienced in a sleep paralysis dream. Horrible.

[charlesandmartine]

Monday 10th July 2023

Kamloops wouldn't be our first choice for a holiday, but as a stopover location it is practical. Kamloops is a mining town; copper and gold, with the largest open cast mine operation in Canada just 30km out of town, and underground mining in town. Logging and sawmills seem popular here too. Kamloops is expanding apparently with people from Vancouver; now 115,000 population with many first nation folk living here. We were collected from our hotels yawningly early at 7.10am; required to leave suitcases in the room to be transferred by road to our hotels in Vancouver. Hopefully. A 22 coach train does not fit well into a standard station platform so we were delivered to the extended train parked in the Rocky Mountaineer depot at one side of the marshalling yards. Yards that are filling up with freight containers, stacking due to the freight operator strike. This eased our passage to Vancouver since we didn't need to pull into sidings so often to allow freight to pass. The journey began by crossing the Thompson River, through downtown with the smokestack of the pulp mill pluming upwards on the edge of town, moved by popular demand away from housing due to the smell.

The landscape was gradually changing to semi-arid desert like conditions, sun bleached hillsides and pastures: home to bald eagles, ospreys and long horn sheep. The temperature today was predicted to hit 35° which would be ideal for its growing wine industry. The baron landscape has been the setting for XFiles, The A Team, Battlestar Galactica and no doubt many more films and TV shows. As the train snaked its way along the course of the Thompson River we spotted bald eagle and osprey nests, some of the latter being up to 100 years old mainly built on manmade structures. Parent ospreys must from time to time have the conversation; one day son, all this will be yours! This is a big country, the home of ballads such as crooned by the likes of John Denver, Cowboy and Indian films, Luis Armstrong wafting over the sound system singing Wonderful World seemed to sum up the general feeling.

Thompson River soon merged with Fraser River just before lunch. The Fraser soon to be busy with salmon. The topography changing now reverting to pine forest and mountains as we headed south towards Hope and Vancouver.

It is a thing most strange that we have travelled hundreds of miles into the Rockies without meeting any English people until boarding the Rocky Mountaineer. Now all on our carriage are English or occasionally Scottish, all Radio 4 of an age. Is it only the Anglo Saxons that appreciate the permanent way? We are all practically on Christmas card terms by now, but of course all that will be forgotten by December.

The train seemed to pick up speed by the time we reached Hope where we were a fortnight ago. We were travelling a good 50mph towards Vancouver. I think the driver needed to be home by tea time. Then he really put his foot down.

And so it was we finally made it into Vancouver crossing the swing bridge. It was a very agreeable way of returning to the great metropolis of the city.

Remarkably, we were able to step off the train and onto a waiting coach which was able to take us directly to our hotel for the following two nights. What was even more remarkable, our suitcases actually made it to the coach!

We have a couple of days to enjoy ourselves in Vancouver before travelling home on Wednesday. Well didn't that go quickly.

[helions-lighthouse]

I mean... Yes. Build it.

But also, build low speed rail - specifically, build low speed freight rail, west to east, and maybe add an extra port or two on the West Coast.

So many of the supply chain problems that the US has faced in the last couple of years has been the consequence of 1)importing the majority of goods from Asia, 2)the majority of the population being on or near the east coast, 3) the relative paucity and truck reliance of container ports on the West coast and 4) the size of modern, high efficiency freighters making a transit of the Panama canal impossible.

Now, with global supply chains slowly breaking down for the long haul and reshoring of manufacturing being more in vogue, the ports may become kinda optional, however, the point remains that a lot of freight is still now and still going to be moving in diesel hungry trucks from one coast to the other.

Low speed (i.e. road speed) trains, running on electricity could take ever increasing quantities of those containers off the roads across the plains, and move it all far more efficiently than electric trucks ever will, in both energetic and economic terms.

However, it does require more rails, electrification of existing rails, a renovation and expansion of rail support infrastructure such as marshalling yards and maintenance depots and, most crucially of all, the containerised railheads to transfer the containers to trucks for the last 100 miles or so of their journeys.

[lotuscontainers]

Shipping container depot services | LOTUS Containers

Container depot services involve storing, maintaining, and handling shipping containers. These facilities offer temporary storage for empty containers, as well as services like stuffing/stripping, repair, cleaning, and inspection. They also facilitate freight consolidation, customs clearance, and documentation. Container depots play a crucial role in managing container logistics, serving as a link between ports and inland transportation. Contact LOTUS Containers for more information.

[enkisstories]

Walking past the droid depot, Finn noticec that the trash has gotten polished. That isstrange, the scraps and parts being, by definition, garbage. Why put in the effort of cleaning away pigeon droppings when the stuff was bound to get smelted anyway? In the time it must have taken to clean the objects, the shop keeper could just as well have carted the trash away.

The old imperial probe droid getting maintained Finn can understand. It is sort of the store's display sign, after all. But the rest isn't meant to get resold.

A few steps further into the yard, Finn spots a garpage heap in the exact same spot it had been the day before. The same composition of trash, too.

The day before yesterday someone had found a datapad with confidential information in this heap. Finn bends down...

...and indeed pulls a datapad out of the trash.

Once again it is chock-full of data. The Resistance has a mole in the Resistance, so this could easily be the place they are passing information back and forth. Checking the datapad's contents, however, Finn realizes that it contains the exact same set of data from two days ago.

I must be overthinking things...

[mikevaccaro]

Things to Do in Florida That Do Not Involve a Beach or Theme Park

Florida sits in the southeastern US, surrounded by miles and miles of beach and water, except for the Panhandle or northwestern part of the state. Thus, many Floridians enjoy going to the beach. They also enjoy visiting theme parks like Busch Gardens, Disney World, or Universal Studios. However, the Sunshine State offers more than beaches and amusement parks. Residents and tourists can also enjoy landmarks, national parks, and museums.

In Florida, individuals can visit Fort Pickens near Pensacola or the Northwestern part of the state. The Army built the fort in the 1800s to defend the state against enemies along the Gulf Coast. By 1821, the Army extended the fort to protect Pensacola Bay and surrounding areas. Four years later, in 1825, the military added a navy yard and a depot to protect the new territory, assets, and resources. The fort still contains cannons and other artifacts from the 1800s.

Moving out of the Panhandle and to Central Florida, visitors can stop by Everglades National Park. The park is the nation’s largest subtropical wilderness, extending from Lake Okeechobee in Central Florida to North Miami. The park is a diverse ecosystem with over 2,000 land and marine plant and animal species living in the park’s extensive wetlands. It offers visitors a first-hand opportunity to see a pristine, untouched natural habitat. In addition to nature, the park is the setting for other events. For instance, in April 2024, the national park hosted a dark sky event, where attendees stargazed without artificial light.

Visitors can explore other natural wonders in Florida, such as Devil’s Millhopper. This site is an enormous sinkhole in the college town of Gainesville, Florida, home of the Florida Gators. Florida sits on a water table, making it susceptible to sinkholes. Sinkholes occur when the ground collapses inward, causing everything to cave in. In the case of Devil’s Millhopper, the limestone collapsed, creating a crater in the ground. Visitors can hike down the sinkhole easily and challenge themselves on the way back up. Alternatively, it is a great spot to picnic.

Next, individuals can visit the Perez Museum of Art (PAMM). PAMM resides in Miami and houses an eclectic collection of international and modern art, especially from artists from the Caribbean and Latin America. In addition, the museum educates the community through its public and educational programs, exhibitions, and permanent collections. The museum offered PAMM Story Time: Fabric and Folklore, A Celebration of Haitian Heritage for children, Teen Takeover Masquerade, where teens create masquerade masks, and Art Date with Buen Provecho Collective, where attendees make art and music.

The last stop is in the southernmost part of the state, Key West. Follow US Highway 1 through the Florida Keys to reach Key West and Ernest Hemingway’s home. Visitors can tour the stately home built in the 1930s. At the time, the house with a pool and gardens was luxurious, costing the writer approximately $20,000. It also contained a boxing ring, where he boxed amateur fighters. A stroll into the home gives visitors, much less Hemmingway fans, a chance to glimpse the writer and his influences.

[disease-danger-darkness-silence]

My mom and brother have let the back yard go wild at their place.

They have their plants - some food, some noninvasive ornamental, some invasive that they don't realize - contained in planting barrels. My mom has a habit of rescuing dying plants from Walmart, Home Depot, and Lowes, or propagating clippings from those same stores, so she has a LOT of plants. Her living room, kitchen, and bedroom are insane.

Have a picture from 2022. It's only gotten more... Plant-y since then. The ceiling is covered.

Everything else in the backyard goes absolutely buckwild. They have an above-ground irritation system they set up with oxygen tubing they had left over when my dad died. They have water go EVERYWHERE 3x daily in lil spurts from holes poked with thumbtacks, so their plants and the other plants all get water - not a ton, but enough.

They fertilize the soil every year, alternating type - some years it's manuer of some sort, some years it's fish emulsion, etc. - in the barrels and buckets, AND on the ground. They throw seeds out randomly when they cut open plants for cooking. They throw organic garbage into a mulch/compost pile during spring, summer, and autumn, and scatter it around at the end so it really GETS IN THERE during the winter.

Their backyard is AMAZING. They have volunteer food plants and herbs, a ton of native flora, a bunch of "weeds" that are edible and wonderful pollinators, a huge amount of bees that hang out (unfortunately also wasps, but they pollinate too), birds, dragonflies, butterflies, etc. They have an outdoor hangout spot and the native and nonnative flora have gifted them with shade, cooler temps overall, food, herbs and spices, wonderful smells, lots of pollinators, and basically a tiny, green oasis in the desert.

We live in a desert. They water a TINY amount because of the tubing they use, but they give every plant enough to thrive because they do it 3x a day.

It is regularly getting to above 100° F (Roghly 38° C) here. Having a well-sustained, mostly-native and volunteer garden (of sorts) is amazing. I love their backyard. I go and just sit in it for a bit of serenity occasionally. It's got everything - shade, music (Mom has a speaker system out there), tables, chairs, a barbecue, bumblebees being cute as fuck, other beautiful and interesting bugs, giant sunflowers. It's like the Secret Garden except my mom and brother made it by not caring about "weeds". The trees have begun to propagate and the babies are now 12-foot-tall bushes (mostly aspen and cottenwood). They're supposed to cut them down but they're not doing it, because they're nice.

Anyway, let your goddamn yard go insane. Don't plant trees next to your house - plant them 6 - 10 feet away so they'll grow big and shade your place. Spread native wildflower and edible plant seeds in the space your shitty flowerbeds used to be in. Nix those things, they're vile. Use buckets/barrels/big-ass planters if you want to avoid "weeds" for specific plants.

Put out food for pollinators: sugarwater for hummingbirds (NO HONEY, NO BROWN SUGAR. JUST WHITE GRANULATED SUGAR AND WATER, 1/4 RATIO) and bees; nuts, seeds and honey-nut bars for squirrels, other birds, and lizards. Consider a birdbath, a beebath, a squirrelbath.

Plant native fruit and shade trees! Let that peach or apricot pit sprout and lovingly plant it. Drop those acorns into the ground. Get those gingko seeds and propagate the fuck out of them. Whatever's clever.

Eradicate invasive species like kudzu and (in Nevada) Virginia Creeper and make room for fucking magic. It will follow. I promise.

(Also if you plant mint near water and shade it will grow like a weed. You'll have a whole-ass mint bush. Same with rosemary. So those are good seeds to scatter near your hose outlet, regardless of where you live.)

Imagine if baking bread was a skill any person living independently in their own house needed to have at least a passing familiarity with, so there were endless books, blogs and websites about how to bake bread, but none of them seemed to contain the most basic facts about how bread actually works.

You would go online and find questions like "Help, I put my bread in the oven, and it GOT BIGGER!" and instead of saying anything about bread naturally rises when you put yeast in it, the results would be advertising some kind of $970 device that punches the bread while it's baking so it doesn't rise.

Even the most reliable, factually grounded sources available would have only the barest scraps of information on the particularities of ingredients, such as how different types of flour differ and produce different results, or how yeast affects the flavor profile of bread. Rice flour, barley flour, potato flour and amaranth flour would be just as common as wheat flour, but finding sources that didn't treat them as functionally identical would be near impossible. At the same time, websites and books would list specific brands of flour in bread recipes, often without specifying anything else.

An unreasonable amount of people would be hellbent on doing something like baking a full-sized loaf of bread in under 3 minutes, and would regularly bake bread to charred cinders at 700 degrees in an attempt to accomplish this, but instead of gently telling people that their goal is not realistic, books claiming to be general resources would be framed entirely around the goal of baking bread as fast as possible, with entire chapters devoted to making the charred bread taste like it isn't charred.

Anyway, this is what landscaping is like.

[littlestarwithoutsky16]

Tips for Growing a Thriving Garden in Small Spaces on a Budget

Expert gardener shares his secrets to cultivating plants in tight spaces

Growing a beautiful garden is no longer limited to those with expansive yards. With the right techniques, even small spaces can be transformed into lush green havens. Gardener and educator Timothy Hammond, also known as @bigcitygardener on Instagram, has shared his tips for cultivating a thriving garden in any size yard on a budget.

His expertise and innovative methods have garnered him a following of over 90,000 on social media. In this article, we will explore Hammond's advice for starting small, utilizing container gardening, maximizing space, and maintaining a flourishing garden.

Start Small and Be Resourceful

Hammond advises novice gardeners to start small and not feel pressured to grow everything in their first season. This approach allows beginners to learn and build their skills gradually. To grow a garden on a budget, he suggests container gardening.

Containers can often be found for free with a little resourcefulness. According to Hammond, almost anything that can hold soil and is water-resistant can be used as a container.

Utilize Space and Grow Upwards

Having a small outdoor space shouldn't limit your gardening ambitions. Hammond recommends utilizing all available space, including growing upwards. Trellising certain crops can significantly reduce the amount of space they take up in the garden.

Additionally, he suggests trying different planting styles such as intercropping and intensive planting, which allow for more plants in a smaller area.

Start with Easy Plants

For those just starting out, Hammond recommends beginning with easy-to-grow plants such as herbs and lettuce. Herbs can be harvested as early as a week after planting, once they have acclimated to their growing area. Lettuce requires minimal water, no fertilizer, and can be harvested just 30 days after planting.

Daily Upkeep for a Flourishing Garden

To maintain a thriving garden, Hammond emphasizes the importance of daily upkeep. Spending a little time each day tending to the garden is easier than leaving it all for one day's work. He also suggests using a cultivator-hoe, a versatile tool perfect for weeding and digging planting holes.

This combo tool can be found at retailers like Home Depot.

Growing a beautiful garden in a small space on a budget is achievable with the right techniques. Gardener and educator Timothy Hammond's advice on starting small, utilizing container gardening, maximizing space, and maintaining daily upkeep can help even novice gardeners create a thriving green oasis. Remember, there is no such thing as a perfect garden, so enjoy the process and the rewards it brings.

Happy gardening!