#farm recovery challenges

[farmerstrend]

The Struggles of Flood-Affected Farmers in Garissa: Ibrahim Buur's Story of Survival and Hope

Ibrahim Buur, a farmer in Sankuri, Garissa County, one of the few survivors of the April-May river floods, sits under a large mango tree staring at his two-acre farmland, once thriving but now showing little activity. A once flourishing farmer, Ibrahim, is concerned over how the floods ravaged his farm, creating deep ravines and depositing heavy silt across his land. He claims he can do less to…

[malusokay]

5 Classics for girly girls 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Emily of New Moon

The bittersweet process of growing up and finding where you truly belong... The perfect read for the start of a new school year. After her father’s death, Emily Starr is sent to live with her snobbish relatives at New Moon farm. Thrust into an unfamiliar and often cold environment, Emily faces numerous challenges. However, as time passes, she begins to adapt and discovers the beauty in her surroundings. With the support of her new friends—Teddy, Perry, and Ilse—Emily not only finds solace but also discovers her own creative talents, helping her carve out a place for herself in this new chapter of her life.

“If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.”

Jane Eyre

A true classic for all my fellow gothic-lit enthusiasts, Jane Eyre, reminds us that everyone deserves a love that consumes, challenges, and transforms the very core of your being, offering both profound joy and deep heartache (we love a good situationsship). Following Jane Eyre, an orphaned and mistreated girl who endures a harsh upbringing but grows into a strong, independent woman. As she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall, she encounters the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, sparking a profound and tumultuous romance. Their intense connection is marred by secrets and personal demons, revealing the complexities of their relationship.

“Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

The Secret Garden

Mary Lennox, a spoiled and neglected girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents. Initially ill-tempered and withdrawn, Mary’s curiosity is sparked by rumours of a hidden, abandoned garden on the estate. As she explores and begins to restore this secret garden, she experiences a beautiful shift (glow-up era). The once gloomy and sickly Mary starts to bloom alongside the garden, rediscovering happiness, vibrancy, and a sense of belonging, making the story a heartwarming tale of growth and recovery.

“At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done, and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.”

Pride and Prejudice

Truly a classic that has shaped my romantic expectations hahah... Elizabeth Bennet battles societal expectations and her own misjudgments in 19th-century England. When the aloof Mr Darcy (he'd totally be a ghoster in the 21st century just saying...) first crosses her path, their initial encounters are fraught with tension and misunderstanding. However, as Elizabeth delves deeper, she uncovers the complexities of Darcy’s character and her own heart.

“I could no longer help saying that I loved him. I loved him not only for his sake but for his own sake. I loved him because he was the only person who had ever really loved me for myself. I loved him because he had made me feel that I was worthy of being loved.”

The Little Prince

A young, otherworldly prince from a tiny planet travels across the universe, meeting various inhabitants and learning profound life lessons. His journey brings him to Earth, where he encounters a stranded pilot and shares his reflections on love, loss, and the essence of human connections. Through whimsical adventures and encounters, The Little Prince explores the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes and reminds us of the value of friendship and innocence.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched; they are felt with the heart.”

you guys asked for more academia/book stuff so I thought this might be a nice start, especially since I know that many of you are just getting into classics; these are all very much suitable for beginners!! <3

love ya ･:*₊‧✩

[growingstories]

La vie est belle

Thibault, a 35-year-old with a big chest, strong arms embodies the ex-jock look with his abs covered by the good French life. He lives in a quaint French countryside filled with wine farms that have been in his family for four generations. Thibault is a hard worker who has dedicated himself to weightlifting at his home gym and running the farm. However, he struggles with finding a romantic partner as there are no openly gay individuals in his small town, and he despises city life. Thankfully, his mother and his four loving sisters constantly pamper him.

Despite his weightlifting and because of his mother's delicious food he said goodbye to his abs when he returned home after his economics study. Home made pies, foie gras, cheese boards, stews, etc, all made it impossible to live on just chicken and broccoli. Thibault has always harbored an ambition to win prizes for his family's wines. However, the sudden death of his father left him unable to achieve this dream as his father didn’t get the chance to leave him the family’s wine blending secrets. As a means to gather feedback, Thibault starts dining at a restaurant that sells wines from the region and forms a bond with the owners who pamper him with delicious food. Unfortunately, indulging in these culinary delights leads to him gaining some weight. Mainly around his belly.

After a few years of trying out blends Thibault's fortunes change when he becomes the winner of a prestigious regional wine festival. Thrilled with this recognition, he takes his wines to various other festivals and attends big parties and tastings. However, as he immerses himself in this world, Thibault's belly continues to grow alongside his success.

Thibault's wines gain popularity, and upscale restaurants invite him to bring his wines for menu tastings. His mother, concerned about his well-being, packs snacks for him to enjoy during the long drives. These snacks, along with his indulgence in fatty breakfasts to combat hangovers, only contribute to his expanding waistline. Eventually, Thibault finds himself needing to buy a new wardrobe to accommodate his weight gain.

To combat the effects of his overeating, Thibault starts running. However, his fitness journey comes to an abrupt halt when he injures his ankle, rendering him unable to do anything but focus on exercises for his chest and arms. This setback only serves to bulk up these muscles, causing Thibault to outgrow his gym shirts.

His awarded wines give him to write about his passion in the culinary world. As a food and wine critic for a prominent international newspaper, Thibault finds himself in the perfect position to recover from his injury. His mother aids in his recovery by preparing delectable food pairings for his wine tastings, and farmers from the countryside send him their specialties to try. These days are filled with writing and indulging in delicious meals.

Unfortunately, Thibault's mother falls ill and entrusts her daughters with taking care of him. Each night, a different sister cooks for him, ensuring he has big portions of food to fuel his growing business and appetite. As a result, Thibault's belly expands exponentially, making simple tasks such as tying his shoes more challenging and leaving him out of breath quickly.

Due to his expertise in the wine industry, Thibault is appointed as the chairman of a prestigious wine qualification company. This honorable position brings him recognition from farmers who send him gifts, food, and wine. As Thibault visits various towns for his work, he finds himself surrounded by enticing food and never-ending parties, causing his weight to steadily increase.

Thibault's godson Bernard, the son of his closest friends and neighbors, came back from university in the US. The boy turned into a handsome and muscular young man, expresses a desire to work for his godfather. Thibault gladly accepts and tries not to fall in live with the young man. Wanting to keep his beloved godfather happy, Bernard takes charge of cooking their lunches. Bernard had learned to cook big American meals in dorm combining this with French taste. Thibault, trying to hide his crush, started to eat everything in sight. As Thibault becomes a charitable figure, he is invited to various events and wants Bernard to accompany him everywhere.

While Thibault sleeps off the hangovers from wine filled nights Bernard starts his days with a run and picks up breakfast for his godfather. One morning Thibault looked out of the window and sees his godson shirtless sweating and stretching after his run. The sight is amazing, the young man has sculpted abs and a big chest. Amazingly big legs and a round ass. He feels his dick getting hard, but when he looked down he couldn't even see his feet anymore. Bernard caught Thibault staring and waved and holds up a bag of pastries. Thibault is embarrassed. How can he be attracted to his godson, its just wrong he tells himself. Bernard brings up the breakfast to his room, still shirtless. He gives the bag to Thibault and tells him he bought som extra for the long roadtrip. The trip is tense, Thibault didnt dare to speak and ate all the pastries within in the first hour. Bernard thinks his godfather is just hungry and after pumping gas he returns to the car with more food.

This can’t continue Thibault thinks to himself as he looks down to his massive belly sitting in his lap. Looking at his reflexing in the car mirror, he suddenly realized what happened to him, he wekt from fit college jock to grey haired morbidly obese 43 years old single gay wine farmer.

Stay tuned for part 2

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

James Middleton: Kate, William and the dog that saved my life. The younger brother of the Princess of Wales was so depressed he came close to killing himself. Then Ella, his faithful cocker spaniel, stepped in — and even found him a wife. He tells Matt Rudd about his ‘waste of money’ education, family therapy and the help Prince William gave him. The Sunday Times, 22 Sep 2024.

I’m in a cottage on a farm with the brother of the Princess of Wales and his eyes are filling with tears. He has a cocker spaniel called Luna on his lap and I have a cocker spaniel called Inka on my lap. Both dogs are looking anxiously at their owner as he tries to tell me about the death of their mother, Ella. It could be a bit awkward when a man you’ve only just met starts getting very emotional about a dog that died nearly two years ago. Instead it’s the moment I realise James Middleton isn’t exaggerating. A dog really did save his life.

On a winter’s night in late 2017, Middleton climbed a ladder to the roof above his parents’ flat in Chelsea and contemplated suicide. Overwhelmed by feelings of failure, he had decided that the labour of living was no longer worth the effort. As his thoughts spiralled, it was only the sight of Ella, watching him carefully through the skylight, that gave him pause. How could he leave her, he wondered.

Over weeks and months Middleton had isolated himself from family and friends, ignoring increasingly desperate phone calls and texts. When his sister Pippa came to the door, he would hide in his room. When he tried to go to work, he got as far as the car park and then drove home again.

“I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep, I was constantly agitated,” he says. “If I sat down I had to stand up again immediately. I couldn’t eat because I felt constantly as if I were about to throw up. What was most challenging was that I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. It wasn’t living, it was just existing in this awful state of anxiety.”

As his mental health crisis deepened, it was only Ella and the routine of looking after her that kept him going. “I was never alone in a time when I felt very lonely,” he says, stroking Inka’s ears. “I’m surprised there weren’t marks on the carpet from the laps I was doing, but she would sort of get in the way. It was a silent interruption, but for a fraction of a second it would stop the spiralling. “Something was taking over my mind, but not knowing what it was made it very difficult to talk about. And I didn’t feel as though I had a right to be depressed because I’ve had everything, because I am privileged.”

We are meeting today, I should mention, at Bucklebury Farm Park, a genteel sheep-petting outfit plus farm shop (excellent organic pesto) at the more desirable end of Berkshire. It is owned by his sister Pippa Matthews née Middleton and her hedgie husband, James, who is, among other things, the next laird of Glen Affric. Carole and Michael Middleton, parents to James, Pippa and Catherine, live in a manor house a stone’s throw away and Middleton’s own farm, which he bought from the parents of a prep school friend mid-pandemic, is a mile over there. It’s quite the empire.

Now married to the French financier Alizée Thevenet and father to 11-month-old Inigo, Middleton is happy to talk about his annus horribilis and his dog-assisted recovery. He does so at book-length in Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life. But it’s a good question: what does someone born into such wealth and privilege have to be depressed about?

The roots of his 2017 crisis can be found, like most roots of crises, in childhood. Born in 1987, the same year his mother set up the mail-order company Party Pieces, he followed his two older sisters to Marlborough. If the prestigious boarding school demanded academic excellence and his parents expected it, both were to be disappointed. Diagnosed with dyslexia then, and with attention deficit disorder when he finally sought help in 2017, he struggled where his sisters had excelled.

“School is about comparing yourself to others,” he says, recalling how he would avoid friends phoning to compare exam results in the summer holidays. “I didn’t feel despair when I failed because it happened so often, but I was embarrassed. I felt let down because I didn’t think that those results properly represented me.”

In the early chapters of the book he charts his struggles with expectation — his mother is frequently in tears, his father just as frequently exasperated. Even without VAT, it must have taken a large chunk of the trust fund established by Michael’s grandmother, the heiress Olive Middleton, to put his son through Marlborough. When that son had to spend a gap year retaking his A-level chemistry four times, a “humiliating record” for the school, he tells him his education was “a waste of money”.

Although today Middleton studiously avoids criticising his school or his beloved parents — he learnt valuable survival skills at Marlborough, he tells me, and “Mum and Dad just wanted the best for me” — the pressure was clearly intense. He sought escape from that pressure in nature and in dogs. “I was an outcast … alienated from my classmates,” he writes. “But dogs never judged me. Mum asked repeatedly if I wanted to bring friends home to stay at weekends. But truthfully all I wanted to do was to see Tilly.”

Tilly was the family’s golden retriever, but from an early age Middleton was desperate for his own dog. His parents, on the other hand, continued to be desperate for him to succeed. And so, after that long summer of resits, he squeaked into Edinburgh University, choosing criminology, environmental studies and geography modules because he was “pretty certain they would all be multiple choice”. They weren’t, of course, and he failed his first-year exams. More crying from Mum, more exasperation from Dad, more solace from a dog, this time his own.

“For all my reservations, I shall be eternally grateful for the time I spent in Edinburgh because it is thanks to Ben, a university friend, that I find my adored dog Ella,” he writes, introducing us to the dog that saved his life. Despite his best efforts, puppies and student life are not compatible, and when he was banned from bringing Ella to lectures he finally abandoned his studies. “I knew that if I left university I’d be responsible for that decision,” he says. “It was a big step, but I had Ella with me, as my companion and my responsibility.”

Middleton’s story is not exactly Angela’s Ashes. When he announces that he is ditching his degree to become an entrepreneur in London, he is cut off, he tells us, from the Bank of Mum and Dad, but he can still move in with his sisters at the family’s flat in Chelsea. His uncle Gary Goldsmith, he of Celebrity Big Brother 2024 notoriety, is also on hand to invest in his cake kit start-up. Nobody in this story is going to find themselves on the street.

But cynics desist! Don’t underestimate the impact of parental expectation, nor of not conforming to the traditional model of success. Middleton, anxious and increasingly socially uncomfortable, had left his friends in Edinburgh and washed up in London with his dog.

“She was my shield,” he says. “Through her I could enjoy things. I could take her for a walk and see what she was seeing. I process a lot of things in my mind and that can be overwhelming, but she helped me open my eyes and realise everything was OK.”

There are, I’m sure, many advantages to being royal adjacent, but when his sister Catherine started dating Prince William in 2004, Middleton found the level of media interest “shocking”. A young man who used his dog as an excuse to leave parties early was not equipped for the spotlight, for stepping out of the flat into a sea of flashing cameras.

“I’d never seen a royal wedding,” he says, rather sweetly. “There hadn’t been one in my lifetime. Not a big one anyway. I wasn’t aware of the scale or the global interest. I just felt privileged that my sister was asking me to do it, and it meant something to her. I wanted to make sure I did it.”

His description of the intense amount of practice he put in to the reading is like a potted version of The King’s Speech — he stutters, he stumbles, he takes lessons with the voice coach Anthony Gordon Lennox, he reads nervously and then more confidently to an audience of one dog ­— Ella, of course — in Chelsea Old Church. And then it’s the big day. “Really, the build-up to Catherine’s wedding was no different to Pippa’s or other friends’ weddings,” he says, unbelievably. Just the family, 1,900 guests, Her Majesty, an archbishop and a few world leaders. Watching the recording back today, there’s no hint of nerves — Middleton, 24 at the time, gives a bravura performance. Afterwards an American production company wrote to ask if he’d like to star in his own film — their opening offer was $1 million.

“They even ventured,” he writes wryly, “that members of my wider family might like to take part.” Middleton is not unaware of how everything is distorted by his proximity to royalty.

On the surface the next few years of Middleton’s life read like a Hello! magazine special — parties, holidays on Mustique, holidays in the Alps, a blossoming relationship with a glamorous older woman (the actress Donna Air, about whom his parents were hesitant because of the eight-year age gap), weekends at Sandringham (“Did you get my message, James?” the Queen asked the first time he visited. “Ella is welcome to stay in your room.”) But then came the night of despair in pyjamas on a Chelsea rooftop. Long sessions of cognitive behavioural therapy followed with a psychiatrist who was happy for Ella to attend too. She was, Middleton says, the only reason he kept going.

In December 2017, his mental health still fragile, he left London without telling anyone and holed up in a remote cottage in the Lake District. While his family grew frantic with worry, much to his irritation (“I’m a grown man”), he describes three days of elemental existence — fetching firewood and water, heating soup, walking Ella and her two pups. For the first time in a year he enjoyed a deep sleep and, in front of the fire after a wild swim with his dogs, he felt fleetingly happy.

“Dogs are amazing,” he says and all five of the dogs in the cottage with us — three spaniels and two beautiful golden retrievers — look delighted. “They do just sense things. Ella had been with me in every therapy session, she was always with me. I think we can learn from dogs. They’re not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. They’re not even thinking about the next couple of hours. They’re thinking about right now. I’m here, they’re here, in the moment.”

As Middleton’s recovery continued, he says his sisters understood — they both had friends who had depression — but his parents struggled. “They were uncomfortable with the fact that I’d been labelled ‘clinically depressed’,” he writes. “To people of their generation, I can understand why it was concerning. Society was only just starting to break through the stigma.”

The solution, in the end, was to invite the family to the therapy sessions. “I felt guilty because I knew they were worried,” he says. “They felt guilty because it’s really hard if you’re not able to help the people you love the most. I was finally understanding how I felt but I got nervous trying to translate that to my family without the help of an interpreter. When they came into the sessions they had the opportunity to ask questions that I couldn’t necessarily answer.”

In the 13 years since Catherine’s wedding Middleton’s hair has receded a little, but he now has a beard for balance — a little twirl of his moustaches and he could be a not-too-distant cousin of Tsar Nicholas II. He probably is — this generation of Middletons is not the first to hang out with royalty. He looks less bright and bushy-tailed than he did in 2011, but that might be fatherhood or the weekend with friends he has just returned from in Norfolk. Or it might simply be the passing of enough eventful years.

Whatever it is, he tells me he is now happy, which, given the depths of his depression, he still finds extraordinary. His idea of what constitutes success has changed — he is no longer motivated by money but by the things in life about which he is passionate. He doesn’t even like the word entrepreneur any more.

Having stepped away from Boomf, a marshmallow delivery company (Boomf is the sound a marshmallow makes falling from a letterbox), he started James & Ella, a “premium freeze-dried raw dog food” company in 2020. He clearly finds it easier to be passionate about dogs than marshmallows. But it’s in his personal life that the change has been most dramatic.

“I remember sitting in the therapist’s chair with Ella’s head on my lap, wondering how long it was going to take to get better,” he says. “But within a year I had met my future wife. And we’re now here with an 11-month-old son, living on a farm with six dogs. If someone had told me that would happen, I’d have been annoyed. It would have just seemed so ridiculous.”

He met Thevenet, 34, at a members club in South Kensington, west London, in 2018. Ella, having actively disapproved of several previous girlfriends, broke the ice by going over to her table. They married in the south of France in 2021 (a Hello! magazine world exclusive, naturally) and Ella was a flower girl. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Except, alas, the dog. It is one of life’s cruelties that man’s best friend has a much shorter life expectancy than man. Just asking Middleton about the death of Ella, early one Saturday in January 2023, makes him emotional. Despite being given two weeks to live the previous September, she had made it through Christmas, perhaps buoyed by the thought of one final week in the Alps. Of course Middleton was with her when she took her last breath at 3am. The whole family, including William and Catherine, gathered in his parents’ garden for what sounds like an extensive memorial on the Sunday.

“Saying goodbye to Ella was not just saying goodbye to her as a dog,” Middleton says. “It was everything I’d been through with her. She had arrived just as I was starting out in my twenties and she was leaving as I’d finally figured things out in my mid-thirties. She put me on the right path and I didn’t want another day from her. I didn’t want another hour. I would have loved it but I didn’t need it. “She was sent to me before I even knew I needed her, but she chose me. She was able to transform my life better than any human could have done and then she put me in the capable hands of someone and together we’re now raising our own family.”

Eight days after Ella was buried in her favourite sheepskin, Alizée interrupted Middleton’s mourning to announce that she was pregnant. He is convinced Ella knew and that her death was a kind of passing of the torch. His son, Inigo, was born last autumn. “I hope there’s an Ella who will find Inigo, if there’s a time in his life when he needs it,” he says, as one of the golden retrievers has a long stretch.

If you’re not a dog person, you might find this cosmic canine intervention a bit much. Whether Ella was the ultimate therapist or a very effective placebo, it worked for Middleton. His sisters’ families are also fully invested in the joys of cocker spaniels — Pippa has one of Ella’s sons and Catherine, whose announcement of the end of her chemotherapy treatment comes a few days after this interview, now has one of Ella’s granddaughters — no corgis to date. Middleton himself now regards his mental health crisis as a blessing. “Although I would never wish it on anybody and I would never want to go through it again, I’m pleased it happened. It was an opportunity to recalibrate and to re-evaluate what matters.” Happiness, he says, is what matters. Happiness and lots of dogs. Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life by James Middleton (Radar £22). 

[zombiigrll]

JUST FRIENDS, RIGHT? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 998 ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ fluff, friends to lovers, use of y/n, reader is maggies sister, just cute wholesome moments<3 .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ thank you all SO MUCH for the love on lonely OH MY GODDD i was not expecting that much traction for my first story! it was literally my first ever tumblr post ever too thats insane o_O i literally have like 0 idea how tumblr works it took me forever to write lonely because i had NO CLUE WHAT I WAS DOINGG if you have any tips let me know im so desperate anyways thank you all so much for the support it means sososo much!! <333 ───────────────────────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

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you and carl had been best friends since the farm. after carl and his group arrived, the two of you had been just.. drawn to each other. you were there for him after he was shot in the side, despite not knowing him. ever since then, the two of you were inseparable. years had passed and you guys were now living in alexandria. after being in that safe space and finally feeling secure, you had more time to tend to your thoughts. one of those thoughts being the new feeling you were getting in your abdomen whenever you were around carl. he could be doing anything, smiling, laughing, whatever. it just made you feel something you had never felt before. something you couldn't describe. but that was challenged shortly after you guys settled into alexandria and carl had told you he had a crush on enid. "hey, can i tell you something?" carl asked, setting down his comic book and looking over at you. you looked up from your own comic and into his baby blue eyes. "yeah, 'course. what's up?" "i... i think i like enid." your heart dropped at his words. "oh." you softly responded, trying to hide how upset you were with a smile. "that's... nice." god, you wanted to explode right there. but you had to be supportive for your best friend, even if you had... some sort of feelings for him. ever since then, you tried your best to pretend you didn't like him. he never got with enid due to ron and her being together, but you didn't want to ruin his moment. you wanted to be there for him. you ignored the tightening feeling in your chest whenever he smiled at you and eventually, you were so caught up in this lie that part of you believed you were over him. sure, you still got those butterflies in your stomach whenever he hugged you, but it couldn't be love anymore, right? well, you were wrong. all of those feelings of love were confirmed after ron had shot him in the eye, which made you realize you couldn't lose him. he came so close to death, and you knew you couldn't live without him. you stayed with him throughout his recovery, and despite him being insecure, he let you stay. i mean, the two of you had been in this situation before back at the farm. you had to be there for him. after a while, carl had recovered, now rocking an eyepatch across his right eye and being able to function properly again through his physical therapy. and you were there with him throughout the entire thing. after carls recovery, the two of you had found an area in the woods for the two of you to have quiet alone time. as friends. just friends, right? today, you couldn't focus. you were so overwhelmed by the knot in your stomach as you watched him read his comics. your eyes went from his hat to his icy blue eye, then his hands, then back into his eye, which was now looking back at you. "are you okay?" he asked, causing you to come back to your senses.

"i.. yeah. i'm good." you awkwardly looked away.

"are you sure? you were staring at me." carl chuckles, setting down his comic book next to him and sitting up to look back at you properly.

"i'm good. perfect, even." you reassured him, but the blush on your face said otherwise.

carl moves closer to you, sitting right in front of you. now, your guys' faces are inches apart from each other.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" carl softly speaks, smiling down at you as you move your hands up to covered your tomato-like face. he moves his hands up to yours and moves your hands off of your face.

"why're you so nervous?" he rubbed his thumb over your hands as he waited for your answer. you cleared your throat and averted your eyes, which caused him to bring a hand up to your chin and move your face back towards him.

your faces had the slightest gap between each other.

he smirked down at you before closing the gap between you two, kissing you softly.

you were caught off guard, more surprised than ever. your stomach was doing flips as you leaned into the kiss, but after a bit, you moved away.

"wait, but..." your facial expression changed to confused as you processed everything. "you said you liked enid."

"wh.. oh." he averted his eyes. "...would you be mad if i told you i just kinda.. said that to say it?"

"are you serious?!" you yelled. you weren't really angry, and it was apparent in your voice. "theres no way. no. you told me you liked her so confidently. you only didn't get together because of ron, but ron's.. y'know."

"y/n." carl put one of his hands on your shoulder. "i said it because i knew you liked me. and.. i didn't want you to."

"what?"

"i don't like enid. i like you. i was just... i was just nervous that i'd hurt you somehow." he explained.

"i think it hurt more hearing you liked another girl than anything else." you scoffed with a smile.

"i meant, i didn't want to be a jerk or something. i've never dated anyone before, i didn't know what i was doing. i mean, i still don't know what i'm doing, but..."

you cut him off with another quick kiss, moving your hand up to his jawline. you pull away shortly after, smirking at his dumbfounded facial expression and reddened face.

"...did you kiss me just to make me shut up?" he rose his eyebrow with a laugh.

"ha, no..." you rolled your eyes, pulling him in for a tight hug, which he returned shortly after.

he rested his head in the crook of your neck. "i'm glad we don't have to pretend anymore."

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[deepestdelulu]

5 classics for my girlies

Emily of New Moon

The bittersweet process of growing up and finding where you truly belong... The perfect read for the start of a new school year. After her father’s death, Emily Starr is sent to live with her snobbish relatives at New Moon farm. Thrust into an unfamiliar and often cold environment, Emily faces numerous challenges. However, as time passes, she begins to adapt and discovers the beauty in her surroundings. With the support of her new friends—Teddy, Perry, and Ilse—Emily not only finds solace but also discovers her own creative talents, helping her carve out a place for herself in this new chapter of her life.

“If it's IN you to climb you must -- there are those who MUST lift their eyes to the hills -- they can't breathe properly in the valleys.”

Jane Eyre

A true classic for all my fellow gothic-lit enthusiasts, Jane Eyre, reminds us that everyone deserves a love that consumes, challenges, and transforms the very core of your being, offering both profound joy and deep heartache (we love a good situationsship). Following Jane Eyre, an orphaned and mistreated girl who endures a harsh upbringing but grows into a strong, independent woman. As she takes a position as a governess at Thornfield Hall, she encounters the enigmatic Mr. Rochester, sparking a profound and tumultuous romance. Their intense connection is marred by secrets and personal demons, revealing the complexities of their relationship.

“Jane, be still; don't struggle so like a wild, frantic bird, that is rending its own plumage in its desperation." "I am no bird, and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being, with an independent will; which I now exert to leave you.”

The Secret Garden

Mary Lennox, a spoiled and neglected girl, is sent to live with her uncle after the death of her parents. Initially ill-tempered and withdrawn, Mary’s curiosity is sparked by rumours of a hidden, abandoned garden on the estate. As she explores and begins to restore this secret garden, she experiences a beautiful shift (glow-up era). The once gloomy and sickly Mary starts to bloom alongside the garden, rediscovering happiness, vibrancy, and a sense of belonging, making the story a heartwarming tale of growth and recovery.

“At first, people refuse to believe that a strange new thing can be done, then they begin to hope it can be done, then they see it can be done--then it is done, and all the world wonders why it was not done centuries ago.”

Pride and Prejudice

Truly a classic that has shaped my romantic expectations hahah... Elizabeth Bennet battles societal expectations and her own misjudgments in 19th-century England. When the aloof Mr Darcy (he'd totally be a ghoster in the 21st century just saying...) first crosses her path, their initial encounters are fraught with tension and misunderstanding. However, as Elizabeth delves deeper, she uncovers the complexities of Darcy’s character and her own heart.

“I could no longer help saying that I loved him. I loved him not only for his sake but for his own sake. I loved him because he was the only person who had ever really loved me for myself. I loved him because he had made me feel that I was worthy of being loved.”

The Little Prince

A young, otherworldly prince from a tiny planet travels across the universe, meeting various inhabitants and learning profound life lessons. His journey brings him to Earth, where he encounters a stranded pilot and shares his reflections on love, loss, and the essence of human connections. Through whimsical adventures and encounters, The Little Prince explores the importance of seeing with the heart rather than the eyes and reminds us of the value of friendship and innocence.

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye. The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched; they are felt with the heart.”

You guys asked for more academia/book stuff so I thought this might be a nice start, especially since I know that many of you are just getting into classics; these are all very much suitable for beginners!! <3

Love yaa

[muiitoloko]

New beginning

Summary: It's a new beginning.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warning: Illness.

Author's Notes: Is it wrong that I'm sad this story is ending? I think I got more attached to this story than I should have. 😅

First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth Seventh, Eighth and Ninth part here.

As the days turned into months and then years, William grew up quickly, his laughter filling the halls of your grand mansion. You marveled at how time seemed to fly by, cherishing every moment spent watching your son grow and thrive.

But as William grew, so did your family. Soon, you found yourself pregnant again, the news of twins filling you with both excitement and trepidation. Turpin, though initially taken aback by the prospect of expanding your family, soon embraced the idea with his usual stoic resolve.

Months passed, and eventually, the day arrived when you welcomed your twin babies into the world. Turpin stood by your side, his expression a mixture of awe and apprehension as he witnessed the miracle of birth once again. Despite his typically stern demeanor, his heart melted at the sight of his newborn children, and he vowed to protect and cherish them with all his being.

As the years went by, Turpin's health began to decline, his once formidable strength weakened by illness. Forced to retire from his prestigious position as a judge, Turpin struggled to come to terms with his newfound vulnerability. You, ever the devoted wife, remained by his side, offering comfort and support as he navigated this challenging chapter of his life.

With Turpin's health deteriorating, you made the difficult decision to leave London behind and move to the farm you had always dreamed of. Turpin, though initially resistant to the idea, eventually acquiesced, recognizing the benefits of the fresh air and tranquility for his recovery.

The transition to farm life was not without its challenges, but together, you and Turpin faced them head-on, drawing strength from each other and the love that bound your family together. Turpin, though laid up since his illness, found solace in the simple pleasures of country living, while you reveled in the opportunity to nurture your growing family in the serene countryside.

As the years passed, the farm became a sanctuary for your family, a place where Turpin could find peace amidst the turmoil of his declining health. Surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love of his family, Turpin rediscovered a sense of purpose and contentment that he had long thought lost.

Though Turpin's illness presented its share of challenges, it also brought you closer together as a family, strengthening the bonds that held you all together. As you watched your children grow and thrive in the idyllic countryside, you couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude for the life you had built together, far away from the hustle and bustle of city life.

As the afternoon sun cast its golden rays over the sprawling fields surrounding your farm, you and Turpin sat together on a sturdy wooden chair placed in the entrance of your cozy farmhouse. The gentle breeze carried the sound of laughter and playful shouts from your children, William, Sophia, and Belladonna, who were engrossed in a game of tag in the yard.

Turpin, his once formidable frame now softened by age and illness, leaned back in his chair, a faint smile gracing his lips as he watched his children at play. His hooked nose and baritone voice still commanded authority, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he observed their antics.

His recently acquired cane rested on the arm of his chair, a symbol of his newfound reliance on assistance. Yet, despite his physical limitations, Turpin radiated a sense of contentment and pride as he basked in the joy of fatherhood.

You, seated beside him, couldn't help but smile as you watched the scene unfold before you. William, now a strapping young lad of ten, took on the role of protector, keeping a watchful eye on his younger sisters as they darted around the yard with reckless abandon.

But it was Sophia and Belladonna, aged seven, who truly stole the show. With their wild curls bouncing in the breeze and laughter bubbling from their lips, they embodied the innocence and exuberance of youth.

Suddenly, Sophia and Belladonna broke away from their game, sprinting towards you and Turpin with reckless abandon. "Father! Father!" they exclaimed in unison, their voices echoing with excitement.

You couldn't help but scold the girls gently for their lack of decorum, reminding them to behave like proper young ladies. Turpin, however, merely chuckled indulgently, his stern gaze softening as he watched his daughters clamor for his attention.

"Sophia, Belladonna, mind your manners," you chided gently, though there was a fondness in your tone. "You mustn't pester your father so."

Turpin's smile widened as he reached out to ruffle Sophia's hair affectionately, his touch gentle despite the playful glint in his eyes. "Indeed, my dears," he added with mock severity. "You must learn to comport yourselves with the dignity befitting young ladies of your station."

But the girls paid his admonishments no heed, too caught up in the excitement of the moment to care about propriety. They threw themselves at Turpin with abandon, their laughter filling the air as they clamored for his attention.

Turpin, unable to resist their infectious energy, wrapped his arms around his daughters, pulling them close in a tight embrace. "Very well, my little rascals," he conceded with a chuckle. "But remember, you mustn't forget your manners in the future."

You shook your head in amusement, unable to suppress a smile at the sight of Turpin indulging his daughters' antics. Despite his stern demeanor, there was a tenderness in his interactions with them that spoke volumes about the depth of his love for his children.

In that moment, surrounded by the ones you loved most in the world, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the life you had built together. As the laughter of your children echoed through the evening air, Turpin suddenly doubled over, a violent coughing fit seizing him. Concern etched across your features, you quickly rose from your seat and moved to his side.

"Richard, are you alright?" you asked, your voice filled with worry as you gently supported him.

Turpin waved off your concern with a dismissive gesture, though his coughs continued to wrack his frail frame. "I'm fine," he rasped between coughs, his baritone voice strained with effort, "just a minor inconvenience."

But you knew better than to ignore the signs of his declining health. With a firm hand, you helped him to his feet, guiding him back towards the house with gentle insistence.

"Let's get you back to the bedroom," you said firmly, your tone brooking no argument, "you need to rest."

Surprisingly, Turpin didn't protest, instead grasping his cane tightly as he leaned on you for support. Together, you made your way back into the house, calling out to the children as you passed through the doorway.

"William, Sophia, Belladonna," you called out, your voice carrying through the halls, "time to wash up for dinner."

The children, obedient as always, responded promptly, their footsteps echoing as they made their way inside. As they passed Turpin, who was already halfway up the stairs, he couldn't help but scold them for their reckless behavior.

"Mind your manners on the stairs, children," he admonished sternly, though the trio paid his warnings little heed as they dashed past him, eager to wash up before dinner.

Turpin sighed wearily as you reached his side, helping him up the stairs with careful steps. Once in the bedroom, you assisted him in laying down on the bed, his coughs gradually subsiding as he settled into a more comfortable position.

Watching him closely, you began to undress him, your hands moving with practiced ease as you removed his formal attire. Turpin watched you silently, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes.

"You're still so young," he commented softly, his voice tinged with regret, "you shouldn't have to take care of an old man like me."

You didn't respond to his words, instead focusing on the task at hand as you dressed him in comfortable clothes. With gentle hands, you tucked him in, ensuring he was warm and comfortable before turning to leave the room.

But Turpin's sudden grip on your wrist stopped you in your tracks. Startled, you met his gaze, only to find his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and resolve.

"Do you remember the sentence I gave you years ago?" he whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse murmur.

You nodded slowly, the memory of his possessive decree resurfacing with painful clarity. "Yes," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of his words, "I remember."

Turpin's nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression pained. "Forget that sentence," he said abruptly, surprising you with the suddenness of his request.

Confusion clouded your features as you looked at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. "What?" you asked incredulously, unable to comprehend his sudden change of heart.

"You are still young," Turpin continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "you deserve a man who will take care of you, who will love you as I never could."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, a mixture of sadness and disbelief washing over you. Turpin had always been possessive, demanding your unwavering loyalty with cruel insistence. And yet, here he was, urging you to forget his decree, to seek happiness beyond the confines of your marriage.

"You're crazy," you whispered hoarsely, your voice thick with emotion, "if you think I'll ever look for another man."

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "You deserve to live, to find happiness," he insisted, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, "even if it's not with me."

But you shook your head, unable to accept his words, unable to fathom a life without him by your side. "Shut up," you whispered brokenly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Just shut up."

For the first time in your life, you defied Turpin's orders, your heart rebelling against the notion of a future without him. Despite his cruelty, despite his flaws, you loved him with a fierceness that defied reason, that defied logic.

Turpin's expression softened momentarily, his gaze filled with a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "You silly, stupid woman," he muttered under his breath, his baritone voice tinged with anguish.

You looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his words heavy on your heart. With a trembling hand, you attempted to pull away from him, to distance yourself from the pain of his rejection.

But Turpin refused to let you go, his grip on your wrist tightening with unexpected strength. "No," he said firmly, his voice commanding despite its tremulous quality, "You will listen to me, damn it!"

Startled by the sudden change in his demeanor, you turned back to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. Turpin's hooked nose twitched slightly as he studied your face, his expression torn between anger and desperation.

"I may be cruel, I may be a monster," he began, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper, "but I cannot bear the thought of you suffering because of me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you listened to his words, the raw emotion in his voice cutting through the layers of resentment and anger that had built up between you. Despite his flaws, despite his cruelty, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man before you.

Turpin reached out to brush away your tears, his touch surprisingly gentle against your skin. "Listen to me," he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion, "if there are other lives, if there is a chance for redemption, I will find you."

You blinked in disbelief, unable to comprehend the magnitude of his promise. "What do you mean?" you whispered hoarsely, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Turpin's gaze bore into yours, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "If one day I am reborn, if one day I have the chance to make amends for my sins," he said solemnly, "I will look for you. In every life, in every world, I will look for you."

A sob caught in your throat as you listened to his words, the weight of his promise settling over you like a heavy blanket. Despite everything, despite the pain and the heartache, you couldn't deny the truth in his eyes, the sincerity in his voice.

"Because you are mine," Turpin continued, his voice filled with a quiet intensity, "and I am yours. And nothing, not even death itself, can change that."

"Richard..."

Suddenly, Lionel jolted awake from his bed, disoriented and slightly bewildered by the vividness of his dream. Running his hands through his hair, he looked around the dimly lit bedroom, the remnants of the dream still lingering in his mind.

With a groan, Lionel reached over and disarmed the alarm at the head of his bed, silencing its incessant beeping. Damn these crazy dreams, he thought to himself, shaking his head in frustration.

As he undressed and stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his tired body, Lionel tried to remember the details of the dream. It was always the same, a smile, but the specifics eluded him, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

Furrowing his brow in concentration, Lionel scrubbed at his skin, hoping to shake off the remnants of the dream that clung to him like a stubborn shadow. He had better things to think about, like the party he was hosting today and the Monet he planned to purchase.

But try as he might, the memory of the dream persisted, taunting him with its elusive details. Frustrated, Lionel leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, closing his eyes and willing the images to fade away.

As the steam filled the air around him, Lionel took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the water soothe his tired muscles. He had a busy day ahead of him, and he couldn't afford to dwell on a mere dream.

With renewed determination, Lionel finished his shower and stepped out into the cool air of the bathroom, the memory of the dream still lingering at the edges of his mind. But as he dried himself off and got dressed, he pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the tasks that lay ahead.

There would be time to ponder the meaning of his dreams later. For now, Lionel had a party to host and a painting to acquire, and nothing was going to stand in his way.

Lionel's brow furrowed in frustration as he examined the counterfeit Monet in front of him, the queen's face mocking him from the canvas. He sighed heavily as Harry Deane and PJ Puznowski walked away, his heart still racing with the realization of how close he had come to being tricked.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief at his own gullibility. He had almost fallen for their scheme, but he refused to let himself dwell on it any longer. There were more pressing matters at hand, and Lionel couldn't afford to waste time regretting his near-miss.

Straightening his bow tie with a determined gesture, Lionel plastered a smile on his face and made his way back to the party. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and he couldn't let a little setback ruin his evening.

As he mingled with the guests, exchanging pleasantries and discussing business deals, Lionel couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered at the back of his mind. It was as if something was tugging at his subconscious, pulling him towards a truth he couldn't quite grasp.

And then, he saw her.

She was standing across the room, surrounded by two other women, her sweet smile lighting up her face. Lionel felt his heart skip a beat as their eyes met, a sense of déjà vu washing over him like a tidal wave.

For a few precious seconds, the world seemed to fade away as he stared at her, captivated by the warmth and kindness in her eyes. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before, a feeling that defied explanation.

But before he could dwell on it any longer, she looked away, turning back to her friends and resuming her conversation. Lionel watched her with a mixture of longing and confusion, his mind racing with questions he couldn't begin to answer.

Who was she? And why did she stir something within him that he couldn't quite define?

With a shake of his head, Lionel forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He had a party to host and guests to entertain, and he couldn't afford to let his thoughts wander.

But as the evening wore on, he found himself stealing glances in her direction, unable to shake the feeling that he had found something he never knew he was searching for.

It was then that he noticed her uniform, the realization dawning on him with a sense of disbelief. She was a waitress, just another face in the crowd, and yet... there was something about her that stirred a sense of familiarity within him.

With a rueful laugh, Lionel shook his head, dismissing the notion as absurd. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had found something important, something worth holding onto amidst the chaos of his extravagant life.

And as he watched her move gracefully through the crowd, laughter dancing in her eyes, Lionel couldn't help but feel a sense of hope stir within him.

Perhaps, just perhaps, he had finally found what he had been looking for all along.

[scandistar]

Whipped together some portraits of my Tav’s family. I’m quite happy with how they turned out, but my favorite part was probably coming up with their designs. I love drawing families, especially siblings, because of the challenge of making them distinct from each other, but still similar enough that you can tell they’re related.

Anyhow! I’ll give you a ”short” introduction.

The Morensis family

Charrelin. Neurodivergent ranger/druid with a keen eye for nature and biology. Studied with a elderly druid for four years as a child, but had to return home when her family lost their farm. She had worked with mercenaries for two years, but her entire team was slaughtered by vengeful thieves that would snatch her and keep her chained in a basement for more than a tenday. She was freed when harpers had happened upon her during their raid of the bandit hideout. She suffered a punctured lung during her captivity, but despite being healed, she developed a chronic cough.

Neira. Charrelin’s little sister who struggles with body image issues because of her infernal features. She compensates by making herself more physically and socially appealing. Has scars on her horn from trying to saw it off in her childhood. Is a talented musician and works at her mother’s shop most days.

Tyra. She’s the oldest sibling and takes that role seriously. She joined her father when he moved to Elturel to find work to support his family. She stayed with him for the next 14 years while he worked as a carpenter. The both of them lived with an old friend of her father, under the condition that they pull their own weight. She did so effortlessly. She also started working as a butcher to add to their earnings. After Elturel had fallen, she had become one of the tiefling refugees traversing the perils on the road to get to Baldur’s gate.

Sedja. Mother of four and a farm girl since birth. She inherited her father’s yard after his passing and would raise a family there with a man from Elturel. She has a deep understanding of agriculture and after she lost her farm, she’d go on to establish a flowershop in the lower city of Baldur’s gate.

Orendal. Father and husband. Moved to Baldur’s gate when he fell for Sedja and joined her efforts of maintaining a farm and a family. He worked hard, was well liked by those not opposed to his existence, and took good care of his family. Until another farm brought competition, slimming down their profits. He would injure himself after an accident and was forced to give up their property. After he recovered, he was quick to depart for Elturel to find a new job, joined by his eldest daughter. After Charrelin’s abrupt dissappearance, he’d become a drunken mess out of worry for his family. It got worse over the years, until he stumbled and fell off a roof and injured himself again. Old as he was getting, he couldn’t return to work after his recovery. When Elturel fell, so did he, into Avernus.

Magnus. He’s the youngest of the four siblings. He was only seven when his father had left for Elturel. He grew into a silent young man, one to keep to the background while his sisters ate the attention. He did what he was told and never objected much. In his later teens, he had started working for fishermen to make some coin of his own. It was going well, aside from that one night he had been ordered by the captain to hoist a body off the boat. As usual, he did what he was told and never spoke of it to anyone.

There is so much more I’d like to say about them all, but for now I’ll just leave a little appetizer.

[askamydaily]

FINALLY ...

I don't have to care about gender reveal parties.

(The following column runs in newspapers across the country on May 24th, 2024)

Dear Readers: After 21 years writing the “Ask Amy” column, I’m announcing that I’m leaving this space. My final column will run at the end of June.

I’m healthy, happy, and 64-years-old. This is a decision I’ve been wrestling with for over a year.

When I was first hired by the Chicago Tribune to write an advice column after Ann Landers’ death, I was a middle-aged single mother. My daughter Emily and I moved from our long-time home in Washington DC and relocated to Chicago. 

[Emily and Amy, Freeville, NY. Photo by Chris Walker for the Chicago Tribune]

My welcome to Chicago was to deliver a solo performance of “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” in front of 35,000 baseball fans during the 7th inning stretch of a Cubs game at Wrigley Field.

This turned out to be a metaphor for my experience writing this column, which has been an exuberant and sometimes nerve-wracking effort of trying to hit the right notes before a huge audience. 

After several great years in Chicago, Emily left for college and I moved back to my tiny hometown of Freeville, NY (pop. 505), to spend time with my sisters, aunts and cousins, and to be with my mother at the end of her life. 

My experiences have mirrored those of many of my readers. For me, these last two decades have been about the intensity and consequences of both love and loss. 

After returning home, I promptly tumbled into a Hallmark Channel plotline, when I fell in love with and quickly married a man I’ve known since childhood (we grew up on neighboring dairy farms). My husband Bruno and I then blundered into the oftentimes awkward blending of our family of five daughters. 

[2008, Freeville, NY]

I became a stepmother, and then a grandmother, all before I believed I was ready. 

My mother and her three wonderful sisters are gone, now. A niece and nephew died, tragically, while in their teens. Much of my recent life has been absorbed by caregiving, mourning, and recovery.

Day in, day out -- over the last two decades – readers have generously shared their own vulnerabilities about many of our common experiences. I’m grateful that we’ve been able to help each other.

I’ve burned through eight laptops, opened bushels of postal mail, written columns in the car, on board planes, in hospital waiting rooms, on my honeymoon, and at my mother’s bedside. During this time, I’ve also written two books, a screenplay, and scores of essays. 

Doing this work has sent me into therapy. It has inspired me to explore the teachings of world religions, and to seek the insight of thinkers like Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung. I’ve quoted the wisdom of Maya Angelou, Joni Mitchell and Fred Rogers -- as well as dozens of poets, social scientists and psychologists. 

I’ve made my share of mistakes, been well-pranked – at least twice (that I know of), and learned how to apologize, ask for forgiveness, and to forgive other people for their own mistakes. Inspired by readers’ dilemmas, I’ve also worked hard to mend fractured family relationships and to be a better friend.

My personal experiences are a reminder that we humans can’t really control what happened before or what happens next. Joy, like grief, comes at you in such unexpected ways. That’s why it is so important to pay attention. I’ve learned to do that.

Being an advice-giver has challenged me to be aware of cultural, social, and relationship trends -- and to appreciate the quirks of human behavior.

When readers get frustrated by my lengthy answers to sometimes petty problems, they will often suggest that I should just tell people to “get a life!,” but I think that wrestling with our questions – from the quotidian to the profound – is living.

For the next month, I’ll continue to publish fresh columns and rerun some favorites. After that, my fantasy is to drive an RV across the country, visiting people I’ve met through this work who have challenged me and tantalized readers with their anonymous requests for advice.

In my hometown, I’m opening a little lending library. You can find me on social media, through my Asking Amy newsletter, at amydickinson.com, or at the Freeville Literary Society on Main Street – talking books with kids and offering advice to anyone who asks.

Love,

Amy

[someonebeatyoutothisuser]

Please, your support was actually needed.

I’m reaching out to you today with a heartbreaking plea on behalf of Joseph Reynolds, a beloved member of our community who is currently fighting for his life after contracting a flesh-eating bacteria. What started as a minor infection on his left arm quickly escalated into a life-threatening emergency. Joseph now faces a grueling medical journey that includes several surgeries, ongoing treatments, and the possibility of losing more than just his health.

Joseph’s battle began with a painful infection that required multiple surgeries. Initially, he had to endure these procedures without anesthesia—a trauma that has deeply affected him both physically and emotionally. As the infection worsened, Joseph was transported to a specialized hospital five hours away from home, where he has undergone three more surgeries. However, his fight is far from over.

Currently, Joseph is waiting for skin grafts, which are critical to his recovery. But the road ahead is long and difficult. After the grafts, he will need two months of daily outpatient care in a hospital that is far from his home, adding not only to the physical toll but also a crippling financial burden. The total estimated cost of his treatment is a staggering $35,000—a sum that is simply beyond his ability to cover.

Joseph has always been someone who gives back to his community. As the founder of IVAFMS and Hilltop Moringa Farms in the Philippines, he has worked tirelessly to uplift those around him, supporting local agriculture and sustainability efforts. Now, it’s our turn to support him in his greatest time of need.

Please I want you to check his GoFundMe page:

We humbly ask for your generosity and support to help Joseph overcome this unimaginable challenge. No donation is too small, and every bit helps cover his medical expenses and ongoing care. Your kindness will help alleviate some of the overwhelming costs he is facing, giving him the time and peace of mind to focus on what matters most—his recovery.

I deeply appreciate your compassion, generosity, and support during this difficult time. Thank you for standing by Joseph as he fights to heal and rebuild his life.

[southernprideyall2]

“Ten Hills Farm tells the powerful saga of five generations of slave owners in colonial New England. Settled in 1630 by John Winthrop, governor of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, Ten Hills Farm, a six-hundred-acre estate just north of Boston, passed from the Winthrops to the Ushers, to the Royalls―all prominent dynasties tied to the Native American and Atlantic slave trades. In this mesmerizing narrative, C. S. Manegold exposes how the fortunes of these families―and the fate of Ten Hills Farm―were bound to America’s most tragic and tainted legacy.

Manegold follows the compelling tale from the early seventeenth to the early twenty-first century, from New England, through the South, to the sprawling slave plantations of the Caribbean. John Winthrop, famous for envisioning his "city on the hill" and lauded as a paragon of justice, owned slaves on that ground and passed the first law in North America condoning slavery. Each successive owner of Ten Hills Farm―from John Usher, who was born into money, to Isaac Royall, who began as a humble carpenter’s son and made his fortune in Antigua―would depend upon slavery’s profits until the 1780s, when Massachusetts abolished the practice. In time, the land became a city, its questionable past discreetly buried, until now.

Challenging received ideas about America and the Atlantic world, Ten Hills Farm digs deep to bring the story of slavery in the North full circle―from concealment to recovery.”

[yuckydraws]

(Click for better quality)

Teddy Bear is here!

(CW: Mentions of Horrortale underground & PTSD)

Few Word Characteristics

Quiet

Generous

Gentle (most of the time)

Resourceful

Protective

Introverted

Loyal

Forgetful

Slow to Trust

Inattentive

Information on his design (+ not shown, but still important info)

His time during the famine without food, eating non-magical food, and his head injury caused his magic to be unstable - which led to his body having a sort of forced magical growth spurt. He's 7'3" (221 cm), and has a big-boned, sturdy build.

This drastic change in his body as well as years of fights and repeated minor injuries, has left him with chronic pain. It usually flares up in his head and knees, but he's dealt with it almost everywhere.

His magic is still unstable, but his ecto-body has mostly recovered from the famine. He's even developed a bit of a belly in his joyful enjoyment of food on the surface.

His notebook is always on hand. His injury has caused him to have all sorts of issues, but mostly with his speech and memory. He uses his notes in his notebook to remember things. It's helped him a lot in his recovery, but he still has to reference it often.

His PTSD mixed with the effects of his head injury, leads him to have episodes in moments of high stress, being met with a trigger, or when having a painful migraine. These episodes vary from him being quiet and completely spaced out, to him being violent and angry. No matter which type, he's always exhausted and feeling guilty afterwards. Tilly is the one who is consistently able to pull him out of them.

Mentally he's made lots of progress as well - but he still, and likely always will, have his struggles.

The decaying atmosphere, dust-filled air & living conditions of the underground left his bones an off-white grey sort of color.

In times of stress or during an episode, he often picks at his socket in an attempt to ground himself - the bone there is chipped and sensitive.

He's amazing with animals, they seem to be naturally drawn to him. This, and his want to have his own self-sufficient farm drew him to try out raising chickens. They're more his pets now, than anything, but the household uses their eggs. They're named Nugget, Henrietta, Cluck, Chicken, and Peep. He would like to raise goats as well, but hasn't gotten Tilly and Sans to agree to the idea.

Speaking of animals, he's got an adorable rescue pup, named Dog. She absolutely adores Bear and he spoils her rotten.

He hates the stares he gets in public. So, he often wears a beanie in public to hide his injury. He still gets stares because of his large stature, but at least he's not inviting unwanted interactions or constantly feeling judged.

His eye-light often gives away what he's feeling, and tends to be more expressive than he is.

He's still Sans, deep down. You will never catch him in uncomfortable clothes.

He's got an impressive garden, that he tends to everyday of the season. He likes to challenge himself with difficult-to-grow plants, and enjoys having an abundance of fresh food on hand. He also tends to the grounds of the large skele-house. It keeps him busy since he can't work, and helps him feel like he's contributing to the household.

He's got a short, stubby tail, that has been deemed a weapon by some housemates of his who have gotten in the way of it's wagging before.

He's not much of a gamer, but he discovered Nintendogs and became hooked. You can occasionally find him grinning down at his borrowed DS as he plays it.

[aheckinmess]

Per Contra

(Snippet from a fic in progress called, Cold as Charity)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Enji Todoroki, Endeavor, Female OC, Princess Arya, Royalty Alternate Universe, Royalty AU, King!Enji, Princess!OC, Arranged Marriage, Quirks Still Kind of a Thing?, I Haven't Worked Out All the Details, But Let's Just Say Yes

Word Count: 1,158 words

Summary: King Enji of Boreas is rumored to be benevolent and kind to all, slow to anger and abundant in patience. Princess Arya of Notus, contrarily, is rumored to be cold and callous to her subjects, lacking empathy or a conscience. It takes a proffered marriage proposal for both of them to learn the truth.

Author's Note: This is based off of a challenge from a Discord server I'm in. The mood board for the challenge is pictured below.

“Look at me, Princess.”

King Enji of Boreas sits across from me with a menacing aura that has settled nations without lifting a single sword. The countries around him herald his nature as benevolent and warm like the fiery power he possesses just as they curse me to be malevolent and cold like the icy magic trickling through my veins.

Ironically, neither proposition rings with much truth from my observations.

“You have given me a week to court you and convince you of a marriage alliance with Notus.” I begin, setting down my teacup. “What if I were to tell you I’ll give you a week to sell the grandeur of Boreas to me?”

“I’d say you’re a fool.” Enji captures me in a heated gaze. “Why propose a marriage with me if you weren’t already placated with the kingdom you seek to become a part of?”

“Frankly, Your Highness, information about neighboring kingdoms offer little to satisfy me. Your scholars have surely told you of my country’s most recent war with Erebus, surely?” “Yes. And how your family is the direct cause.” He growls out.

“Of course, you’d know that.” I nod, lacing my fingers together on the table. “But what your scholars can’t tell you is that right now the kingdom of Notus thrives with recovery efforts despite the despicable actions caused by my parents – they can’t tell you that our farms flourish with people banded together for good, or that the only reason my parents have sent me to marry you is because they intend to banish me with the hope it’ll cripple our land.”

“Lady Lachlan has told me about their motives, as you’ve asked.” Enji nods to the woman sitting under a Pagoda tree in the distance. “But that does little to convince me of seeing you as a suitable candidate given your reputation.”

“Ah, and that is another reason I do not trust common knowledge regarding the information related to your kingdom.” I sigh, forcing my facial expressions into submission.

He catches the irritation that flutters across my face before I can stop it, however.

“Is that so? A princess who is said to be cold and cruel. It would fit the preceding mold of your parents, who started a war for their own gain, don’t you think?” Enji leans closer over the table. “How can I trust that your offer isn’t just an attempt to elicit my sympathy and take my life? Is that why you won’t call off your guard dog? When you kill me, you’ll need a witness of your innocence, right?”

I’ve all but forgotten Toshinori’s presence behind me. Ever since I can remember he’s been charged with keeping me safe. He is my perfect protector, a shadow trailing after me wherever I go who has proven himself a symbol of peace and prosperity.

Across from me, the king of Boreas intends to intimidate, but only succeeds in making my blood buzz with a challenge. His cold blue eyes burn with passion that I find myself yearning to fuel.

“Were those rumors to be believed, that must mean you are a king benevolent and kind to all. A king slow to anger and quick to patience. Yet, here you sit, subtly accusing me of plotting your assassination as we sit for a cup of tea.” I chuckle, waving Toshinori off. “Leave us, Toshinori.”

He stiffens behind you.

“My princess–”

“That’s an order.” I ground out. “Give Lady Lachlan some company if you desire, or stand at the perimeter. But leave us.”

It takes a moment or two, but with a set jaw and a curt bow, he takes his leave.

“Does that offer you more comfort?” I raise a brow.

“Walk with me and I’ll decide.” Enji demands, rising abruptly.

I ignore the way Toshinori snaps his head in my direction when we walk by him and onto a trail into the nearby garden outside the courtyard. When he takes a step in my direction, I halt him with my hand.

“You’ll have to forgive Toshinori; he has protected me since I was a babe.” I observe the dying rose bushes and revive them with a wave of my hand.

Silence answers me as Enji walks straight ahead, leading me into a gazebo where he takes a seat and offers me the spot beside him. His warmth seeps into my skin as he crosses his ankles and pulls me against his side by the shoulders.

“You are fearless, I’ll give you that, Princess.” He holds me captive in his gaze – his demeanor relaxes for a breath – before his features crinkle with disdain. “But many princesses before have tried courting me and all have failed. Let’s say your story is true and your parents really are seeking to banish you to my kingdom, what’s the benefit of a marriage? Why shouldn’t I just send you back to Notus?”

A sharp breath skates past my nostrils as I let my hair hide an amused smile. Why shouldn’t you send me back? Well, I’d surely die. Of course, that means little to you. 

Memories swirl in my mind like smoke as death reminds me of Grandpa. Of Grandpa squeezing my hand on his own deathbed – You will be a wise ruler one day and they will hate you for it, but if you remember nothing else, remember this: trust yourself. You are smarter than you think, my heart.

“You are free to do as you wish, for you are a king.” I shrug, shocked when his fingers link in mine. My heart drops to my toes while pink paints my cheeks. “But if you send me away you lose insider information on a neighboring kingdom that you’ve already discerned has rulers capable of foul play. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but sending me back to Notus will be my death sentence. With me by your side, regardless of if you trust me, I have information you will not find elsewhere at your disposal.”

An autumn breeze combs my hair and threatens to topple my crown, but I’m much too distracted with drawing fanciful shapes into the calloused skin of Enji’s palm.

I shiver and his hand comes under my chin. The rough, frigid edges of his glare dissolve into soft sunshine. Sunshine that sparkles and sprouts in my stomach until it encroaches around my lungs, making it impossible to breathe while in his radius.

“You are nothing like the rumors claim, Princess Arya.” He leans down.

“Neither are you, Your Highness.”

His lips brush against mine with enough pressure to please despite the brevity. My eyes close to help me reorient as he spins my world on its axis. When he withdraws, my mouth follows him with parted lips.

I swallow, blink, and straighten my back as he peers down at me.

“It is settled. I will take you as my bride.”

“You will?” I gasp.

“I will.”

[davidaugust]

“You heard that right: This Republican is declaring that Trump’s threatened actions could leave factories _sitting empty_.

One of Trump’s central campaign claims was that Biden’s green energy investments will cause enormous job losses in manufacturing sectors like the traditional auto industry. In reality, the IRA is spurring an outpouring of private investment that’s creating hundreds of thousands of new jobs, many in advanced manufacturing and well suited for people without college degrees—in the very areas that in MAGA folklore were abandoned by liberal and Democratic elites.

Notably, GOP Representative John Duarte, who just lost his seat in the elections, explicitly tells Reuters that farming interests in his California district depend on undocumented immigrants—and that Trump should exempt many from removal. Duarte and industry representatives want more avenues created for migrants to work here legally—the precise opposite of what Trump promised.

As Paul Krugman puts it, in all these ways, migrant laborers are ‘complements’ to U.S. workers. Importantly, that’s the argument that these Republicans and industries in GOP areas are really making when they lament mass deportations: Migrant labor isn’t displacing U.S. workers; it’s helping drive our post-Covid [sic] recovery and growth. This directly challenges Trump’s zero-sum worldview.

At the most basic level, Trump-MAGA ��American carnage’ mythology holds that reversing the elite-engineered energy transition and purging the nation of millions of undesirable migrants are key to rescuing left-behind areas from stagnation—and rebuilding the foundations of virtuous, long-term working-class flourishing. In reality, the green transition and immigration are potential keys to revitalization. It’s striking to see Republicans already more or less confirming this themselves.”

https://newrepublic.com/article/189054/trump-immigration-threats-republican-resistance

[pixelly-sims]

On January 14th, 1301, Elianora gave birth at home to a baby girl named Edyth Harkins. The birth went well, and both mother and baby were initially healthy.

A few days after the birth, Elianora began to feel unwell and suffered from a postpartum hemorrhage. The local physician intervened and successfully saved her life. Elianora had to stay in bed at the physician's home with baby Edyth for the next two months to ensure her recovery. And then, in September, Elianora started suffering from anemia, impacting her strength and energy levels.

In October, Elianora discovered she was pregnant for a second time, adding both excitement and concern to the family's dynamic.

The garden flourished, providing a steady supply of vegetables and herbs. The family expanded their livestock, purchasing chickens and a cow, which contributed to their sustenance and income.

The year 1301 was a tumultuous yet eventful year for the Harkins family. The joy of Edyth's birth was followed by a serious health scare for Elianora, who endured a postpartum hemorrhage but thankfully recovered with the physician's help. The family faced further challenges with Elianora's anemia diagnosis and the news of her second pregnancy. Despite these hardships, the farm continued to grow, with a thriving garden and the addition of chickens and a cow, setting a foundation for future stability and growth.

Beginning | Previous | Next

[darkmaga-returns]

The UK Environmental Improvement Plan (“EIP”), launched by Thérèse Coffey, the then Secretary of State for the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs’ (“Defra”), was published in January 2023.  It builds on the vision set out in the 25 Year Environment Plan and incorporates new powers and duties from the Environment Act, Agriculture Act, and Fisheries Act.

The EIP aims to halt and reverse nature decline by creating and restoring at least 500,000 hectares of new wildlife habitats; launching the Species Survival Fund to create, enhance and restore habitats, protecting 30% of land and sea for nature through the Nature Recovery Network and enhanced marine protected areas.

The plan challenges councils to improve air quality more quickly and tackle key hotspots.

It also aims to enhance the environment by upgrading wastewater treatment works, restore wildlife habitats and promote “nature-friendly” farming practices and implementing Biodiversity Net Gain, requiring developers to provide 10% more or better-quality natural habitat than before development.

To increase prosperity, the plan proposes promoting sustainable agriculture and forestry practices and supporting eco-tourism and sustainable economic growth.

The plans are far-reaching. In an update “one year on” published in January 2024, Deputy Chief Executive of Natural England, the government’s adviser for the natural environment, Alan Law said, “From the depths of the North Sea to our iconic national landscapes and in the heart of our towns and cities, the EIP goals are driving Nature recovery. There’s a lot to do in four years, but we’re rising to the challenge.”

The controversial Bovaer, a methane-supressing food additive, is part of this plan.