#mid term entry

[radhaiinksap]

[silverhalla]

realizing that my warden rook backstory would make her a little older than I’d like to romance lucanis: :(

realizing that my warden rook backstory would make her the PERFECT age to romance emmrich: >:) >:) >:)

[clownattack]

The terror and disbelief when i realized most of my quality ar*ana art wips are from 2021 like???? HUH

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

please tell us more about your mad theory about the tories getting rid of Sunak?

So the Tories currently have two (2) major problems.

Problem the first: they are about to lose power as soon as the GE rolls around, which it must do by January 2025 at the absolute latest. And the country is baying for one sooner.

This is very much preoccupying their minds at the minute. The rich and powerful will never willingly let you vote away their wealth and power, and to put this into perspective, the Tory party has ruled this country either jointly or alone for over a decade at this point. One of David Cameron's strategies as leader was to focus on recruitment of young and exciting diverse Tories into the party, which is how we got such stellar entries as Liz Truss and Priti Patel and Suella Braverman. These are MPs, therefore, who have never known political life outside of being on the winning side. They are seeing the end of the gravy train in sight, and they are taking it as well as you'd expect.

This is why the infighting is so rife (partly; bear with). The main thing they care about right now is making the party electable again, and fast.

But...

Problem the second: like all good fascist dictators, when Boris Johnson came to power, he fired everyone who said anything bad about him for disloyalty, and promoted all his personal friends. This is how we got such stellar entries as Nadine Dorries and Jacob Rees Mogg and Michael Fabricant. But THAT'S an issue because saying bad things about BJ is basically what intelligent people did, because the man was a useless blundering oaf who killed horrifying numbers of his own electorate via the world's second worst mismanagement of a global pandemic. So removing anyone who criticised him meant, in very real terms, removing the only Tories with half a brain who were even a fraction capable of doing joined up thinking required to run a country. Like, fuck every Tory with a cactus, obviously, but they did at least used to have competent, high calibre politicians, however evil and grotesque they were. David Cameron should die in a cesspit, but he was capable of remembering to put the bins out (before wage cutting the refuse collectors).

And therein lies the real problem: okay, BJ is gone, the party is in ruin, they're staring down the barrel of the most humiliating election defeat in history. They need someone competent that they all like who can take the reins and make people like them again.

But who's left?

There's no one. There's no one left. Not just because the remaining Tories are too low calibre to lead; they're too low calibre to even be able to pick someone without shrieking like cliquey little harridans on the playground about how the wrong in-group got in. Half of them are still BJ loyalists who hate anyone who criticise The Great Brexit Leader. The other half hate BJ for managing to make everyone hate the Tories so much that they're in this mess. Both halves are willing to sabotage the chosen leader of the other, locked in a battle of mutually assured destruction.

So how does Sunak fit into this?

He's unpopular in the party to a truly staggering degree, and not much better in the eyes of the public. He's tried to take a centrist stance on BJ, but that's actually just pissed off both sides. He did manage to stabilise the economy somewhat after the appalling mess Liz Truss threw it into, but he hasn't actually fixed it - we're still mid-cost of living crisis, we're still inexplicably not rich after Brexit like Boris prommied, inflation is still at an all time high as public services crash. The public hates him.

And he hasn't made the public stop hating the Tories. That petition calling for a GE is great, because it won't happen - BUT, it does force the issue to be debated in Parliament with opposition parties getting to stick the boot in, which means the humiliation continues. The Tories are starting to get desperate again.

And because this lot of Tories are, as mentioned, utterly terrible low-calibre political idiots, their response to this pressure has for the last four years been to oust the leader and get another.

And the first letters of no confidence have been sent into the 1922 Committee already. The devil moves fast, but knuckle dragging Tories with a fifth of a braincell each move faster.

And thanks to the absolute fucking state of them all... I cannot believe I'm saying these words, but genuinely the best person they have left who could possibly do the job is, of all fucking people, Michael Fucking Gove, and it won't even be him because he was mean to Boris once.

So yeah. I reckon Sunak may be out in six months. Fuck knows who we get instead. Probably Penny Mordaunt.

[harrietvane]

So, in Busman’s Homeymoon, Lord Peter buys Harriet Vane a mink cloak worth 950 pounds (according to the Dowager Duchess’ journal entry), but he buys Tallboys for “only” 650 pounds.

Even bearing in mind that real estate really did used to be cheaper, do you understand how that is possible? Or how to find out more about relative purchasing power? I used an online calculator website which gave me some figures, but it still seems insane that one could buy an entire Elizabethan farmhouse for 2/3 the price of a garment! Very curious to learn from others who understand this better than I do.

Ah, I see my esteemed colleague @oldshrewsburyian has also had some interesting thoughts on this, so I'll link that here as well before I begin.

So, it's a legitmate question, and there's no catch-all simple answer (in the gotcha sense of 'why didn't i know that bit of cultural Truth'), but there are mitigating factors that take it from a ridiculous price comparison, to merely outlandish. Even taking into account that the coat is quoted in guineas, not pounds, and that PW says the bank valued Talboys at £800 via a mortgage (the paid price was a discount, for paying in cash quickly, which is Plot Relevant), it gets us to roughly the same place, value-wise. Or shall we say PRICE-wise, rather than value, as I'll get into below. There's several factors at play here - they mainly relate to class, and spending power:

-The house is Not That Great, in terms of the kind of property that PW would usually be buying. I mean it is still a large-ish house, big enough to have 2 adults and small children in, but it's not what would be on his radar normally. The only reason they know about it, it that it's near a place where HARRIET grew up as a child. It's not getting any high marks in particular Beauty, Convenience, or Quality - the main reason HV's drawn to it is sentiment, rather than anything else. They both know that they will have to significantly add to it, and alter it, in order for it to be a comfortable home. That would usually be out-of-budget for someone in Harriet's position, who would expect to buy something that meets her needs 'as-is'. Most people looking at buying that house would be Harriets not Peters, so it might be a tough sell.

-The house has no power, and limited plumbing: There's dark references to DRAINS by the dowager duchess, it's entirely possible that this house has no modern plumbing at all - they make the comparison that the huge palace the Wimseys grew up in wasn't plumbed until recently, but then again they do have about 800 servants, whereas Talboys is just a regular house: they will have Bunter alone (at first), with an assist from Mrs Ruddle. There's mention of "a cistern" with some basic valves, but the scullery is mentioned as having a copper, from which hot water is "scooped into a large bath-can" - a copper being, simply, a large metal basin over a fire, in effect. No running hot water, maybe no flushable loos - it's a factor. They also talk specifially about having to electrify Talboys themselves - it's candles and lamps until then. It's fancy camping. By the mid-1930s, a lot of middle-class buyers would expect a little more convenience in both water and wiring, unless they had significant support staff, which Talboys would not be expected to house.

-There's probably no farm! It's a farm house - not a wider land purchase. People like PW's brother the Duke are wealthy primarily because they own land, not because of the big palace they have (which eats money, rather than generates it). The land is what gives them spending power, because other people are paying them rent to live on it, farm on it, or both. PW's own personal 'younger sibling' wealth is also mentioned somewhere to be primarily in real estate (assumed to be in London) - sad to say: he's a landlord, and that's why he's rich. Talboys, on the other hand, as a purchase, would not, in almost any way, be expected to generate revenue through either farming, agriculture, or charging rent. Until they invent house flipping in 80 years, or until the motorway goes through in 40 years, there's not much expectation that Talboys would increase all that much in value.

-Lastly, there's a massive disparity in what The Market Will Bear when we compare a basic residence vs a luxury item (like a mink coat) in the mid-1930s. This is not particular to that time, though. Like any first-year economics student will tell you, the price of something is not it's intrinsic value, it's what someone is WILLING to pay for it. If someone is willing to pay such a price, that's the price it will be. So, we're not comapring Objects, we're comparing Buyers: the the main purchasers of a slightly run-down farmhouse located nowhere special are Harriets, and main purchasers of mink coats are Peters. Talboys is priced for Harriets. The mink coat is priced for Peters.

Compare for example, a contemporary parallel: the Hermes Birkin bag. It's a leather handbag with a starting retail price of about USD 11,400. Just for the bag. Then, you have fancier versions of the fancy bag, eg wikipedia tells me one version sold at auction for USD 380,000 in Hong Kong in 2017. Now, the Harriets of today are not buying a Hermes Birkin handbag, but they are probably trying to buy slightly run-down houses outside urban centers for (one hopes) slightly less than 380k. The Wimseys of the worlds are clearly buying Birkin bags. In that way, it's actually pretty easy to get to a place where Person A might buy a single luxury item for X pounds, and Person B might buy a whole residence for X pounds, and neither feel like they'd done something insane. The key here is in a Wimsey/Vane marriage, they run up against this concept immediately, and repeatedly.

There's a good reason the first epistolary section of the novel is almost entirely taken up with money chat - the ring, the purchase of shirts from Burlington Arcade, the marriage settlement, the gift from the bride to the groom, the mink coat, the bitchy exchange between Helen and Harriet about HV being allowed "six free copies of her book" to distribute. These people come from 2 fundamentally different experiences of the world. They might have gotten engaged using the word 'Magistra', specifically to emphasise their fundamental equality (in the context of learning and the mind, to begin with), but it can't be denied: there's gaps that need to be bridged. They both know parts of their married life will be spent in attempting to do that, hopefully to their mutual satisfaction. Mention of a mink coat for 950 guineas is a nice, neat shorthand for illustrating what's still at play between them here.

[najia-cooks]

[ID: Seven yoghurt balls on a plate drizzled with olive oil. The one in the center is plain; the others are covered in mint, toasted sesame seeds, ground sumac, za'tar, crushed red chili pepper, and nigella seeds. End ID]

لبنة نباتية / Labna nabatia (Vegan labna)

Labna (with diacritics: "لَبْنَة"; in Levantine pronunciation sometimes "لَبَنَة" "labanay") is a Levantine cow's, sheep's, or goat's milk yoghurt that has been strained to remove the whey and leave the curd, giving it a taste and texture in between those of a thick, tart sour cream and a soft cheese. The removal of whey, in addition to increasing the yoghurt's tanginess and pungency, makes it easier to preserve: it will keep in burlap or cheesecloth for some time without refrigeration, and may be preserved for even longer by rolling it into balls and submerging the balls in olive oil. Labna stored in this way is called "لبنة كُرَات" ("labna kurāt") or "لبنة طابات" ("labna ṭābāt"), "labna balls." Labna may be spread on a plate, topped with olive oil and herbs, and eaten as a dip for breakfast or an appetizer; or spread on kmaj bread alongside herbs, olives, and dates to make sandwiches.

The word "labna" comes from the Arabic root ل ب ن (l b n), which derives from a Proto-West-Semitic term meaning "white," and produces words relating to milk, yoghurt, nursing, and chewing. The related term "لَبَن" ("laban"; also transliterated "leban") refers to milk in Standard Arabic, but in Levantine Arabic is more likely to refer to yoghurt; a speaker may specify "لَبَن رَائِب‎" (laban rā'ib), "curdled milk," to avoid confusion.

Labna is a much-beloved food in Palestine, with some people asserting that no Palestinian home is without a jar. Making labna tabat is, for many, a necessary preparation for the winter season. However, by the mid-2010s, the continuation of Israel's blockade of the Gaza strip, as well as Israeli military violence, had severely weakened Gaza's dairy industry to the point where almost no labna was being produced. Most of the 11 dairy processors active in Gaza in 2017 (down from 15 in 2016) only produced white cheese—though Mustafa Eid's company Khalij had recently expanded production to other forms of dairy that could be made locally with limited equipment, such as labna, yoghurt, and buttermilk.

Dairy farmers and processors pushed for this kind of innovation and self-sufficiency against deep economic disadvantage. With large swathes of Gaza's arable land rendered unusable by Israeli border policing and land mines, about 90% of farmers were forced by scarce pasture land and low fodder production to feed their herds with increasingly expensive fodder imported from Israel—dairy farmers surveyed in 2017 spent an estimated 87% of their income on fodder, which had doubled in price since 2007. Cattle were thus fed with low quantities of, or low-quality, fodder, resulting in lower milk production and lower-quality milk.

Most dairy processors were also unable to access or afford the equipment necessary to maintain, upgrade, or diversify their factories. Since 2007, Israel has tightly restricted entry into Gaza of items which they consider to have a "dual use": i.e., a potential civilian and military function. This includes medical equipment, construction materials, and agricultural equipment and machinery, and impacts everything from laboratory equipment to ensure safe food supplies to packaging and labelling equipment. Of the dairy products that Gazan farmers and processors do manage to produce, Israel's control over their export can cause huge financial losses—as when Israel prohibited the export of Palestinian dairy and meat to East Jerusalem without warning in March of 2020, costing estimated annual losses of 300 million USD.

In addition to this kind of economic manipulation, direct military violence threatens Gaza's dairy industry. Mamoun Dalloul says that his factory was accused of holding rockets and subsequently bombed in 2008, 2010, 2012, and again in 2014, resulting in repeated moves and the loss of the capability to produce yellow cheese. The Israeli military partially or totally destroyed 10 dairy processing factories, and killed almost 2,000 cows, during its 2014 invasion of Gaza, resulting in an estimated 43 million USD of damage to the dairy sector alone. Damage to cow-breeding farms in 2014 reduced the number of dairy cows to 2,600, just over half their previous number. Damage to, or destruction of, wells, water reservoirs, water tanks, and the Gaza Power Plant's fuel tank exacerbated pre-existing problems with producing cattle feed and with the transportation, processing, and refrigeration of dairy products, leading to spoiled milk that had to be disposed of. Repeated offensives made dairy processors reluctant to re-invest in equipment that could be destroyed at any time.

Israeli industry profits by making Gazan self-sufficiency untenable. Israeli goods entering Palestine are not subject to import taxes, and Israeli dairy companies are not dealing with the contaminated water, limited electricity, high costs of feed, out-of-date and expensive-to-repair equipment, and scarce land (some companies, such as Tnuva, purchase milk from farms on illegal settlements in the West Bank) with which Gazan producers must contend. The result is that the local market in Gaza is flooded with imports that are cheaper, more diverse, and of higher quality than anything that local producers can offer. Many consumers believe that Israeli products are safer to eat.

Nevertheless, Gazans continue building and rebuilding. Despite significant decreases in ice cream factories' production after the imposition of Israel's blockade in 2007, Abu Mohammad noted in 2015 that locally produced ice cream was cheaper and more varied than Israeli imports. In 2017, the amount of dairy sold in 74 shops in Gaza that was sourced locally, rather than from Israel, had increased from 10% to 60%. Ayadi Tayyiba, the region's first factory with an all-woman staff, opened in 2022; it produced cheese, yoghurt, and labna with sheep's milk from affiliated farms. However, demand for sheep's milk products has decreased in Gaza due to its higher production costs, leading the factory to supplement its supply with purchased cow's milk.

The current Israeli genocidal offensive on Gaza has caused damage of the same kind as—though to a greater extent than—previous shellings and invasions. Lack of ability to sell milk that had already been produced to factories, as well as lack of access to electricity, caused an estimated 35,000 liters of milk to spoil daily in October of 2023.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord, donating to Palestine Legal's activist defense fund, and donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund.

Equipment:

A blender

A kettle or pot, to boil water

A cheesecloth or tea towel

Ingredients:

1 cup (130g) cashews (soaked, if your blender is not high-speed)

3/4 cup filtered or distilled water, boiled

1-3 vegetarian probiotic capsules (containing at least 10 billion cultures total)

A few pinches sea salt

More water, to boil

Arabic-language recipes for vegan labna use bulghur, almonds, or cashews as their base. This recipe uses cashew to achieve a smooth, creamy, non-crumbly texture, and a mild taste like that of cow's milk labna. You might try replacing half the cashews with blanched almonds for a flavor more similar to that of sheep's or goat's cheese.

Make sure your probiotic capsules contain no prebiotics, as they can interfere with the culture. The probiotic may be multi-strain, but should contain some of: Lactobacillus casei, Lactobacillus rhamnosus, Bifidobacterium bifidus, Lactobacillus acidophilus. The number of capsules you need will depend on how many cultures each capsule is guaranteed to contain.

Instead of probiotic capsules, you can use a speciality starter culture pack intended for use in culturing vegan dairy, many of which are available online. Note that starter cultures may be packaged with small amounts of powdered milk for the bacteria to feed on, and may not be truly vegan.

If you want a mustier, goat-ier taste to your labna, try replacing the water with rejuvelac made with wheat berries.

You can also start a culture by using any other product with active cultures, such as a spoonful of vegan cultured yoghurt. If you have a lot of cultured yoghurt, you can just skip to straining that directly (step 5) to make your labna—though you won't be able to control how tangy the labna is that way.

Instructions:

This recipe works by blending together cashews and water into a smooth, creamy spread, then culturing it into yoghurt, and then straining it (the way yoghurt is strained to make labna). It's possible that you could skip the straining step by adding more cashews, or less water, to the yoghurt to obtain a thicker texture, but I have not tested the recipe this way.

1. If your blender is not high-speed, you will need to soak your cashews to soften them. Soak in filtered or distilled water for 2-4 hours at room temperature, or overnight in the fridge. Rinse them off with just-boiled water.

2. Boil several cups of water and use the just-boiled water to rinse your blender, tamper, measuring cups, the bowl you will ferment your yoghurt in, and a wooden spoon or rubber spatula to stir. Your bowl and stirring implement should be in a non-reactive material such as wood, clay, glass, or silicone.

3. Make the yoghurt. Blend cashews with 3/4 cup just-boiled water for a couple of minutes until very smooth. Transfer to your bowl and allow to cool to about skin temperature (it should feel slightly warm if dabbed on the inside of your wrist). If the mixture is too hot, it may kill the bacteria.

4. Culture the yoghurt. Open the probiotic capsules and stir the powder into the cashew paste. Cover the bowl with a cheesecloth or tea towel. Ferment for 24 hours: on the countertop in summer, or in an oven with the light on in winter.

Taste the yoghurt with a clean implement (avoid double-dipping!). Continue fermenting for another 12-24 hours, depending on how tangy you want your labna to be. A skin forming on top of the yoghurt is no problem and can be mixed back in. Discard any yoghurt that grows mold of any kind.

5. Strain the yoghurt to make labna. Place a mesh strainer in a bowl, making sure there's enough room beneath the strainer for liquid to collect at the bottom of the bowl; line the strainer with cheesecloth or a tea towel, and scoop the cultured yoghurt in. Sprinkle salt over top of the yoghurt. Fold the towel or cheesecloth back over the yoghurt, and add a small weight, such as a ceramic plate or a can of beans, on top.

You can also tie the cheesecloth into a bag around a wooden spoon and place the wooden spoon across the rim of a pitcher or other tall container to collect the whey. The draining may occur less quickly without the weight, though.

Strain in the refrigerator for 24-48 hours, depending on the desired texture. I ended up draining about 2 Tbsp of whey.

6. If not making labna balls: Put in an airtight jar, and add just enough olive oil to cover the surface of the labna. Store in the fridge for up to two months.

7. To form balls (optional): Oil your hands to form the labna into small balls and place them on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. They may still be quite soft.

Optionally sprinkle with, or roll in, dried mint, za'tar, sesame seeds, nigella seeds (القزحة), ground sumac, or crushed red chili pepper, as desired.

Optionally, for firmer balls, lightly cover with another layer of parchment paper and then a kitchen towel, and leave in the refrigerator to dry for about a day.

Place labna balls in a clean glass jar and add olive oil to cover. Retrieve labna from the jar with a clean implement. They will last in the fridge for about a year.

[labete-du-gevaudan]

An Endling is the last known member of a species or subspecies. The death of an endling means the end of the species as a whole. The word was supposedly coined by Robert Webster in the mid 1990s. The term is used by museums and in writing, however, it still does not have an entry in The Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Robert Webster tried his best to get the word into the dictionary before his death in 2004.

One of the most famous endlings was Benjamin, the last known thylacine, who died in the Hobart Zoo on September 7th, 1936. It is actually not known if the animal's true name was Benjamin, but that is what is usually used. Some stories state that Benjamin died from neglect rather than old age, having been left in its outside enclosure in the cold overnight. While others disregard this, as the last known thylacine would have been incredibly valuable and important to the zoo.

Other notable endlings are:

- Martha, the last passenger pigeon, who died on September 1st, 1914.

- Lonesome George, the last Pinta Island tortoise, who died on June 24th, 2012.

- Booming Ben, the last Heath Hen, who was last seen on March 11th, 1932.

- Turgi, the last known Partula turgida, a type of Polynesian tree snail, who died on January 31st, 1996.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 𝐏𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 𝐏𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 𝐏𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 𝐏𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫

𝟏𝟗𝟔𝟗 𝐏𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝟑𝟖𝟑 𝐕𝟖 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 "𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬" 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫

This 1969 Plymouth Road Runner hardtop model failed to sell at auction recently with its owner refusing to part with it for just $37,440. The car has undergone two major refurbishments, one in the 1990s and another one more recently in July of this year.

The first-generation Plymouth Road Runner was cool right out of the gate. This was a performance vehicle, which is why all of its original engine options were extremely potent. You had the “entry-level” 383 ci V8 with its 335 horsepower and 425 lb-ft of torque, which as far as base engines go, was no pushover.

Then came the 426 Hemi V8 (chronologically), followed by the so-called 440 Six-Pack (or Six-Barrel) – bigger displacement, less power, same torque; compared to the Hemi. What stood out to most people was that the 440 Six-Pack was more affordable than the Hemi and it excelled in terms of mid-range and torque.

It produced its 490 lb-ft of torque at 3,200 rpm, whereas the Hemi wanted you to push all the way to 4,000 rpm for the same grunt. Now, the 440 unit was officially rated at 390 hp, but a lot of people believe that number to be underrated. It’s worth mentioning.

This particular Road Runner started off with a 383 ci V8 under the hood but would later receive the 440 ci V8 with a trio of two-barrel carburetors. Originally, it had a Limelight Metallic exterior with white longitudinal stripes but was repainted yellow during refurbishment.

Other current visual highlights include the black fiberglass lift-off hood, Road Runner graphics, chrome bumpers, dual side mirrors, chrome exhaust outlets, plus a set of black H-series-style 15” wheels with 235/60 front and 295/50 rear Diamond Back red-line tires.

Moving on to the interior, that’s where you’ll find the black vinyl front bucket seats and rear bench, a color-coordinated dashboard, the Hurst shift

[olderthannetfic]

Do you have a sense of where the concept of "comfort character" comes from, or when it originated? It seems like this particular coinage/concept showed up in fandom spaces somewhere in the mid to late aughts, but maybe it's older? When not used humorously, I've seen it function as a sort of proprietary claim and/or an awkward (and usually ineffective) effort at tone or representational policing, so now I'm wondering about its history.

--

The circles I ran in in the aughts would have chewed up and spat out anyone who tried to police a character in this particular way. I first heard of the concept in the last few years on tumblr.

One place I go when researching slang is Urban Dictionary. It's not just that there are definitions there but that the dates on the entries can be instructive. In this case, all of the definitions are from 2020-2022. That doesn't mean that nobody used it earlier. There could just have been limited overlap between the types who used it and the types who edit Urban Dictionary. It does match when I remember the term breaking containment and oozing all over places I was with all the butthurt entitlement that you'd expect.

A cursory search of Reddit reveals a bunch of people going "WTF is a comfort character?" around four years ago (so 2020).

Googling turns up a ton of discussions from during lockdown and basically nothing before that.

Fucking around on Dreamwidth, I see a lone mention in 2007 related to a final fantasy game. Unclear whether it's a common term or an ad hoc one.

Where are you seeing it in the aughts? I'm perfectly willing to believe it's old, but it would help to start from whatever you're looking at to trace what communities it was being used in.

[a-killer-obsession]

PITCHING TENTS ⛺️

Kid Pirates x AFAB Reader Modern AU Campground Series

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you went camping to spend time alone. At first, that had been the case, but you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger.

Masterlist || AO3

PART 1/6 - LAY OF THE LAND

CW: None for this chapter, just R18 mentions of sex.

WC: ~3k

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin

A/n: I'm vaguely setting this in my home country of NZ, based on a campsite I frequent, for entirely selfish purposes but also because it's easy to describe a place you've been to a million times. Anyway, when I mention forests those are the kinds I mean, no fear of a rogue bear or mountain lion ✌️

You pulled into the quiet campsite in the middle of nowhere as you did every year around this time. Set between large mountainous hills covered in dense forest, and boasting a pool heated naturally by nearby geothermal activity, the site was a popular, bustling location in the on season. You, however, enjoyed the off season, when it was quiet, almost entirely abandoned save for the grounds keeper and his dog, and a handful of long term residents, living out their retirements in quiet bliss in the RVs that lined the very back of the campgrounds. You parked your humble car in front of the office that was built alongside a small shop, usually selling entry and icecreams to locals who came here for the pools, but also held a selection of basics such as toilet paper and cup noodles for campers in desperate need of a grocery trip.

The gravel that lined the carpark crunched underfoot as you made your way to the wooden ramp that led to the office and store building, the whole complex no bigger than a shipping container. The eggy smell of sulphur from the nearby geothermal activity filled your nostrils, unpleasant at first but a smell you'd quickly get accustomed to as you always did. A bell rang as you opened the door, the older woman assigned to mind the store today hurrying out from out back, you could hear the TV she'd been watching as she came out front. This time of the year customers were nil to none, so the counters relied on bells for service, usually unmanned otherwise. The chances of someone stealing from the store while it was unoccupied were slim, but you could assume they had a camera set up to watch from a screen out back anyway.

“[Y/n]!” The old woman exclaimed, taking her seat behind the desk, “I was happy to see you on our books this morning”

“Can't miss my mid-year vacay, Marg,” you replied with a smile, pulling out your wallet and leaning against the desk. You'd been coming here for years, and Margie had worked here for just as long. “What do I owe ya?”

“Minus the deposit you already paid, that'll be $65 sweetheart,” she smiled, clicking a few buttons on the keyboard at a snail pace as she worked on printing a receipt. You handed her the cash and the til made a clunk as the drawer popped open, Marg replacing your four twenty dollar notes with a five and a ten and handing them back to you. You slipped them back into your wallet and she handed you a keycard for the gate that kept pool visitors and strangers out of the campgrounds. Well, their cars anyway, they could absolutely just walk around it.

“Usual spot sweetheart, I'm sure you don't need a map,” she stood to return to her back room. She was definitely getting older, and standing was clearly more difficult for her than it had been in previous years. You'd be sad the year you came to camp and weren't greeted by her friendly face

You thanked her and made your exit, getting back into your car and making sure to roll down your window. You slowly made the short distance to the card receiver, leaning out your window a little to hold the card against it. A small light flashed green and the metal arm creaked as it began to raise. Your car was small, so you didn't have to wait for it to raise completely before you were passing underneath it and navigating the familiar gravel roads to your favourite spot. There were no additional parking spots at each spot, you were expected to either park on them or leave your car in front of the office, so you pulled onto the grass alongside the road between the brick lines that marked the boundary of your spot.

Your usual spot was close to the middle of the grounds, directly across from the communal kitchen building, and just a thirty second walk from the main toilet and shower block. There were other, smaller toilet blocks scattered around the grounds, but this was the only one that featured showers and laundry. The kitchen building was also just a nice place to hang out, having a semi covered outdoor area framed by benches, one of the only places other than your own rented spot where you were allowed to drink alcohol, so it was a great place to meet other campers. At first glance, anyone would think a lone woman coming to a campground on the off season was here for peace and quiet. On the contrary, you found during the busy season there were usually far too many large families and happy couples. The off season was for singles, and you were here for one thing and one thing only: sex with strangers.

It wasn't something you'd ever admit to those who knew you, they all made the reasonable assumption that you were here to spend time alone, always turning down offers from friends to join you. At first, that had been the case. A spontaneous camping trip in the middle of the year to cool down after a particularly stressful project at work finally wrapped up. But you'd quickly come to learn that other single men your age were doing the same thing, and you found yourself loving the thrill of a romp with a stranger. The campsite being so empty also made for additional excitement, after many years here you'd had sex in or on most of the campground's amenities. The kitchen, the pool, the showers, on top of a laundry machine. It was an excitement you struggled to find in the big city you came from, without wasting money on a hotel room there was no good way to have sex with a stranger without being caught and without them knowing where you lived and getting attached, because like hell were you going to a strange man's house on your own.

You quickly set about working on your tent, pulling item after item from the back of your car and setting up with well practised speed. Soon you were closing the car boot and admiring your work. A decently sized, two chambered tent - the first chamber holding your cooler and a small fold down table for prepping a quick snack at night. The kitchens had multiple large fridges available for use, but you liked to keep your beer and soda in an ice bath in your tent for easy access. Every morning and evening you would go to the small camp store and buy a bag of ice, but for now the cooler was empty. The second chamber was larger and held most of your belongings, as well as a queen sized, double layered, inflatable mattress, already set with comfortable bedding. You even had a small fold down side table and camping lamp, which had a handle for late night toilet visits, and you'd run an extension cable from the site provided power you'd paid extra for, to your side table, so you could charge your phone and laptop from the bed. There was no internet here, and barely any phone signal, but you'd downloaded plenty of movies, tv shows and e-books before leaving home, as well as bringing a handful of actual novels, a switch console and drawing supplies. You weren't a fantastic artist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a hobby you enjoyed and liked to practise anyway.

Outside your tent you'd also set up a small gazebo, after your first few years you'd gotten sick of being trapped inside the tent whenever it rained, and it also provided shelter for a large trestle table and tabletop barbecue so you could grill regardless of the rain. There were also a few collapsible chairs under the gazebo, a larger reclining one where you spent most of your time, and a smaller more basic one in case you had a guest. Aka another camper you intended to, or hand already fucked.

Satisfied with your setup, you took a quick break to check your phone and let your friends know you'd made it safe and sound, before climbing back in your car and heading to the grocery store in the small nearby town. The town was about a twenty minute drive away, a small oceanside tourist town that was mostly a pass through for those heading to a nearby famous beach, or to board boats or small privately run helicopters for whale and dolphin watching. You'd never bothered with the tourist traps, but you had once or twice hit the beach when you'd come during the on season with friends.

Thriving on local tourism, the town was humble compared to the city you'd come from, but large enough to have two supermarkets and a decent size home goods store, as well as a long stretch of boutiques and cafes. You head to your favourite supermarket, pulling into the half full car park and heading inside. You pulled up your list on your phone as you approached the doors, grabbing a trolley and setting about your shopping. Food for several days, beer, condoms, all very important. A novel that caught your eye, some trashy magazines, snacks for late night movies. A comically large cucumber caught your eye, and you snapped a pic to send to your friends with the caption ‘finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦’

Everything on your list gathered, you headed for the checkouts. A big, noisy, red ute pulled into the carpark as you started loading your groceries into the reusable totes you kept in the back of your car. It parked nearby and four fucking massive men jumped out, shoving each other and laughing boisterously. Definitely not locals by the looks of it, the back of the ute loaded up with what looked like camping equipment, tied down with straps and a piece of blue tarpaulin that didn't cover everything. You wondered if they'd be staying at the same grounds as you, it was the most well known in the area given its pool that was free use for the campers and the nearby hiking trail that offered incredible views of the entire area all the way out to the ocean. You licked your lips at their beefy builds, a girl could certainly dream, any of them would make a fine target for your sexual escapades.

The red haired one among them wolf whistled as he passed by, as you bent over the boot of your car to reach an extra tote that had fallen under a seat. You turned back to him, a hand on your hip, and winked playfully. He blushed, clearly not having expected that reaction, and his friends whooped and smacked him playfully. The group followed behind the redhead who was fleeing as fast as he could, and you continued packing away your groceries and returned your trolley before heading back to camp.

When you got back you unpacked everything, putting your chillables in the provided fridges, your name written in clear black marker over each package, and filled your cooler with the bag of ice you'd grabbed from the camp store on your way in before putting your beer and soda in to chill. The food that didn't need refrigeration was stored in your tent in a small latchable plastic box to keep any rodents away. All done with your chores, you ate a quick lunch of some pre-made food you'd grabbed at the supermarket, and decided to hit up the pool.

You made your way back up the gravel path from the pool, slide on sandals on your feet and a towel wrapped around your body. You were still in your bikini, your wet hair sending droplets of fresh water from the rinsing shower down your body. You watched a bird native to the area fly overhead before the sound of boisterous laughter caught your attention. Usually, at this time of the year, campsite guests would pick locations far away from each other, most people came here this time of the year to be alone. The grounds were arranged in blocks, each block holding ten or twelve sites, split with half to one road and half to another. There were a good amount of blocks, the grounds could probably accommodate a good couple hundred people at its peak, though right now you could only see three other tents far from yours.

You could hear the group before you spotted their red ute, the same one from the grocery store, obscured by your own setup until you got closer. They'd rented what looked like multiple sites right next to yours. Usually, you would be annoyed, but being that they were all so delicious you were delighted. This was going to be a successful holiday indeed.

The group was made up of four large men. There was the redhead who had whistled at you, he looked to be the youngest of the group, as wide as he was tall with a thick scar that ran down his face, giving him a natural bad boy appearance. He was soft looking, but in a strong, could definitely throw you over his shoulder sort of way, like a boxer. You noticed now that he was missing his left arm, it must have been facing away from you at the store. He wore eyeliner, which you noticed now they all did, along with a vibrant red lipstick that matched his hair. He looked very punk in dark ripped jeans and a leather vest he wore open, showing the scar that ran over his torso, along with a big fuck-off belt buckle and multiple silver chains hanging from his belt. The nails on his one hand were painted a darker red, and he had a black fabric headband holding back his wild hair.

Next was the shortest of the group, though certainly not short by normal standards. Dressed in a simple blue t-shirt and jeans, his impressive blond hair went all the way to his hips. His sharp featured face was partially obscured by messy straight bangs and a fluffy goatee, his lips painted purple as he flashed a bright toothy smile at the redhead.

The other two both dressed in a punk aesthetic much like the redhead, two slightly older men with impressive heights, one of them towering above all four of them. The shorter man had pale blue hair set in dreads, his face covered in unusual scars and thorn like tattoos wrapping around his neck and down his arms. The taller hid his hair under a black hoodie, but you could see pointed sideburns peeking out under them. He looked deliciously muscular under the tight netting shirt he wore.

The four of them were going about their setup, four separate single chamber tents laid out on the ground to sort their positions while the blond and tall one carried an excessive amount of grocery bags to the shared kitchen. It was just as well there was hardly anyone at the camp, they'd need a whole fridge on their own with that much food. Deciding to make your intentions clear as soon as possible, you laid a towel over your reclining chair and grabbed a beer, relaxing in your bikini that showed off your fit body. The redhead was quick to notice, and you tilted your sunglasses to wink at him. He realised why he recognized you and you heard him swear and scurry away. Cute.

You watched their entire setup process hungrily, watching their muscles flex as they unloaded the ute and set things in place. The redhead was no help with the tents, so he worked on setting up smaller things like their large barbecue and chairs while the other three got the tents erected. You couldn't help but notice that they hadn't brought a gazebo, they must be newbies. Hopefully the weather would be fine for however long they were staying, you hoped for more than one day, and given the amount of food they had you would guess at least three.

All of them eventually took notice of you, catching sly glances where they could. The blond one seemed the most confident, openly flexing and showing off, flashing you wide grins that you eagerly returned. Oh you would definitely be climbing that tree. The redhead continued to act shy, doing things that were clearly to show of his strength but refusing to meet your eye. The bluenette gave you kind looking smiles, and the tall one looked at you with suspicion, which you always responded to by changing which leg was crossed over the other, giving him a full view of your barely clothed centre. It didn't seem to phase him though, curious.

Your phone pinged at some point and you checked it, starting a conversation with your bestie about your current view. She was the only person who knew the real reason you took these holidays. You snapped a quick, sneaky pic of the four men as they set up.

You: [one attachment] You: finally found a boyfriend 🥒💦 Bestie: LMAO finally a man that can satisfy You: might have found a few more of those Bestie: yeah? Good huntin? 👀 You: new neighbours You: [one attachment] Bestie: fuck me Bestie: or rather, fuck you, hopefully You: the blond one is giving me eyes for sure Bestie: yeah? You layin down that charm girlie You: lets just say i just got back from the pool, and im enjoying a nice beer on my recliner 👙 Bestie: yes queen! Give them a good look at that meal, they're gonna be eatin you up in no time! You: fingers crossed 🤞 you know im in dire need of a good fuck, heres hoping they're not all just a gay polycule, that'd be just my luck Bestie: well it sounds like at least the blond is dtf You: hes got a cute ass smile, cant wait to ride it 🤠 Bestie: girl you are nasty! 😂 Go get that dick queen 🍆 ttyl, ily! You: luv u!

You put down your phone and finished your beer, deciding you'd laid around for long enough and it was probably time to get started on dinner. It was already late in the day, if you were going to attract any of the boys it likely wouldn't be today, you needed the novelty of camping to wear off for them before they came sniffing around for more excitement. Not to mention you were tired from driving all morning and setting up. You pulled a few things from the kitchen, carrying them back on one of your plastic camping plates, and grilled yourself a steak while you scooped a few premade deli salads onto your plate. You enjoyed your meal while reading your new book, noting the smell of meat in the air and the sounds of sizzling and beer cans opening nearby as your neighbours settled in for their own dinner.

When it got too dark to read you took your dishes to the kitchen to wash them, grabbed your toiletries from your tent, and took a quick shower. The weather was warm enough to make the short walk in your nightie, so you strutted back to your tent with your legs and cleavage on proud display, your nipples pert under the satin night dress which was trimmed with thick lace, hanging from your shoulders by delicate spaghetti straps. You'd never have walked around in public like this if you had neighbours you weren't trying to fuck, but you were more than happy for the boys to look at you, and look they did. You gave them a short wave before you entered your tent, grabbing a new beer and your laptop and settling in to watch a movie.

[NEXT PART]

[miffyscreams]

**not cutesy sad girl blogging, feel free to scroll on if ur not interested !!

i know there are a lot of people on here who are in their young/mid teens and might be seeking help for the first time (or doing so soon) so i just wanted to put this out there- misdiagnosis is possible and extremely, extremely common. this is specifically tailored to bpd because i know most of us here have it

i completely understand wanting a diagnosis to understand why you do the things you do and feel the way that you do and that is 100% completely fine. but please, please be careful that you don’t become so desperate for answers that you end up accepting an inaccurate or unethical label. if you’re under 18 and early in therapy (less than a year) or not in inpatient care and receive a formal bpd diagnosis, please be careful. it’s often not a misdiagnosis and is likely to be correct but it goes against ethical standards and is a massive red flag of your provider. minors can have bpd (and do!! it starts developing super young) but the diagnostic process is very different to when you’re an adult and should only be made in an emergency or after long term observation. this doesn’t mean you don’t have bpd, it just means that your psych has not gone through the proper process and that can have implications for the rest of your care. being medically recognised is a completely different story and not a bad thing. but when your personality is technically still developing, your provider needs to be 100% sure without a doubt that it is disordered and not caused by anything else before putting a formal diagnosis on your file. not doing that is unethical even if the diagnosis is correct. the amount of teenage girls who have been misdiagnosed with bpd and ended up actually having autism, adhd or cptsd that goes untreated until their 30s is astounding. you probably do have bpd but you should not get a bpd diagnosis put on your record at fifteen years old after seeing your psychologist for three sessions.

in that same vein, if you receive a diagnosis (of any disorder, at any age) and it doesn’t feel right, PLEASE CHALLENGE IT. please seek a second opinion if you have concerns. being treated for the wrong diagnosis can make your condition worse. being viewed with the stigma of a disorder that you don’t have can make your condition worse. up until this year i spent seven years of my life receiving misdiagnosis after misdiagnosis. trust me when i say you’re better off getting no diagnosis at all than getting the wrong one. this is especially true if you think you have bpd but end up getting a bipolar diagnosis- most medications have an inverse effect on us and being prescribed a cocktail of atypicals because they think you’re just not responding to the meds will fuck you up.

there’s a lot of fearmongering online, especially on tiktok, about getting a formal bpd diagnosis so i also just wanted to clear up that no, you will not be rejected entry from countries, you will not be rejected for loans or home ownership and you will not be rejected from career opportunities. the only people who have access to your medical records without a subpoena are your doctors. you are not legally obligated to tell anybody and nobody outside of your care team is allowed to access or request your info outside of a court setting. being diagnosed does not ruin your life as long as you have good medical professionals around you.

if you want to seek help, PLEASE DO. but please advocate for yourself whenever necessary. you deserve help and you deserve a team who listens to your concerns and diagnoses you responsibly. most professionals will leave a diagnosis off your record if you request it (usually unless it’s schizophrenia or bipolar, literally only because it’s important for everybody providing you any form of treatment in any context to know). good psychs will allow you to question a diagnosis and a lot will let you reject it or ask for extra consideration.

[moonbearmeliox]

Basic Guide to Indy Car

I was going to wait to post this until there was actual confirmation that Logan is going to Indycar, but with the recent Williams news, a lot of people have been asking about Indycar and how to get into so here's the Basic Guide I made when rumors started circulating that Logan was going to be out by the end of the year. I started getting into Indycar this year, using it as the filler when there was no F1 on weekends. I'm still fairly new to the sport, and most of the information I got from my dad so if there's anything incorrect, feel free to let me know.

Teams: There are 10 teams currently racing in Indy Car with Prema being the newest team joining the grid in 2025. Some teams have two drivers, some have three, some even have 4. During a race you will not be able to tell who's on what team at first and who's driving which car since a lot of the cars look the same and the leader board shows the driver's numbers, not their team logos(Each team uses a different font for their drivers' numbers, but realistically it's always too small to properly identify what number belongs to which team or the fonts are too similar.) There is no Team Championship so realistically it is better to root for a driver than a whole team(Tho I will say I am an Andretti fan, but only because it's Andretti and 2 of my favorite drivers are on that team)

Drivers: There are 27 drivers each race, except for the Indy 500 which includes around 5 extra driver/team entries. Driver swapping happens more often in IndyCar, so just be prepared if a driver swap gets announced if a driver isn't doing well or if a team is racing at an oval track(teams will sometimes swap in drivers who are better at ovals). The driver's numbers are assigned by what car they are driving/what team they are on. A driver doesn't get to pick their number unless they win the championship(Current Champion is Will Power with his driver number being 12).

The Cars: IndyCar only has two Engine Manufacturers, Chevy and Hyundai and there is a championship between them(it's not very thrilling though when it's just two manufactures competing). The cars need to refuel during pit stops, as Indy races are longer. Also the liveries are sponsored based, not team based, and they can look very similar, as they change almost every race. Mid-way through the 2024 season, they switched to a hybrid engine system. From what I can understand, the cars now have the same battery system that Formula 1 has with drivers being able to charge the battery during the slow parts. The battery also seems to provide the power used for Push to Pass.

Push to Pass: DRS equivalent. Each driver starts a race with 200 seconds of Push to Pass they can use throughout the race that is activated after the 1st lap. Push to Pass uses fuel but gives the driver an extra push to try and overtake.

Tires: Two types of tires, Primary(Hard) and Alternates(Soft). Each driver needs to change to a different type of tire at least once during a race. The tires are provided by Firestone.

Races: Indycar races take place in various US States(and one race in Toronto). They run longer and have more laps than an Formula races, hence why the drivers need to refuel during the race. The only way a driver can be taken out of a race is if the car gets severely damaged or will not restart(unless they're racing ovals, no car restart on the ovals). If a driver spins out or crashes, the car will get restarted and they can get back in the race. Also cars that are a lap down do NOT need to unlap themselves, which can lead to some conflict with the leading cars. Every car that starts the race earns 5 points

There are three different types of tracks that IndyCar races are held on: Road Courses, Street Tracks, and Ovals(Oval and Street races are more about survival).

There will be at least 3 yellow flag every race. One of them will almost always be during the first lap of a race.

In terms of which races are the most important during the Indycar season: The Long Beach Grand Prix and The Indianapolis 500(Indy 500) are the most important. The Long Beach Grand Prix is like the Monaco of Indycar, besides the Indy 500 every driver wants to win this race. The Indianapolis 500 is the pinnacle of IndyCar and is one part of the Triple Crown of Motorsports. 200 laps around an oval circuit with 5 extra driver entries, this is the most important race in Indycar.

Where to Watch: Right now, Indycar is broadcasted on Peacock, NBC, and USA. Going into 2025 IndyCar will be broadcasted on Fox Sports. It is important to note that with Indycar being around a 3 hour races, there are a lot of commercial breaks. You'll get 7 minutes of racing before it cuts to a 2-3 minute commercial break and if a yellow flag happens, they will cut to commercial shortly after(this could just be an NBC thing, won't know until the 2025 season starts). In terms of commentators, going in to 2025 it's unknown who will be commentating for the 2025 IndyCar season since they will be switching from Peacock/USA to FoxSports and the commentators will probably change.

Other Stuff: Before each race there's an evocation, the leader board shows how many seconds behind a driver is from the leader of the race, and each driver has their own pit box so teams do not have to worry about double stacking. There are no subtitles for team radios so it may be hard to hear what is being said. Each driver has a spotter(or more depending on the track layout), which is someone that watches the race from a higher vantage point and keeps the drivers and their teams updated throughout the race. Also there is a driver named Sting Ray Robb

[creature-wizard]

What is the New Age to Alt Right Pipeline, and how do you stay out of it?

The term "New Age to Alt Right pipeline" refers to the way alternative spirituality and healthcare often serves as an entry point to far right radicalization. While many people are dismissive that such a thing could even exist, plenty of people in occult and witchcraft communities can confirm that it is very much a real thing. Having studied far right conspiracies myself for awhile now, I can personally confirm that a number of people involved in alternative spirituality, including ones who consider themselves progressive, are spouting off the very same conspiracy theories used to justify persecution of the Jews throughout the Middle Ages to the Nazi regime.

Even if you don't reckon yourself a New Ager, you are still likely to come across this stuff because there's no hard and fast place where New Age ends and witchcraft, neopaganism, or whatever begins. While the core and arguably most defining belief of New Age is that the Earth is on the cusp of entering a new cosmic cycle, there's a significant amount of overlap between things New Agers are into, and things that other people are into.

For example, someone interested in Wicca might start researching the Goddess, and from there very quickly encounter conspiracy theories claiming that everyone was monotheistic for the Great Goddess back before The Patriarchy Tee Em invented a male god for people to be monotheist for. From there, it's just a short matter of time before they start coming across materials claiming that the Jews are responsible for the creation of this god, and also responsible for the Catholic Church, and so on. (Pro tip, the Roman government was responsible for the Catholic Church.)

The best way to keep yourself safe from this isn't to simply avoid all material that might potentially contain far right ideas and conspiracy theories. Rather, it's to learn what they look like. Here's a few things to watch out for:

The grand conspiracy narrative: The exact details you'll hear will vary depending on who you're listening to - every conspiracy theorist tailors and re-tailors the grand conspiracy narrative to suit their own agendas and beliefs. The key details to watch out for are claims that there's this secret group that's been pulling the strings behind the scenes for a long while now, and that their agents are working everywhere to make sure the people stay deceived.

To be blunt about it, literally every conspiracy theory about a New World Order, a shadow government, generational satanists, satanic bloodlines, reptilian bloodlines, and so on is a riff on the material found within The Protocols of the Learned Elders of Zion, a czarist hoax used to justify violence against Russian Jews, and later on, the Holocaust. There are no exceptions.

During the Satanic Panic, many people claimed to have been part of such a conspiracy. Investigations failed to turn up any real evidence, and those pushing these claims always turned out to have a history of dishonest behavior, or had been subjected to hypnosis by someone with a history of dishonest behavior and/or a gross disregard for medical ethics.

If you see someone claiming to have been part of something like this today, your best assumption is that they are lying to you, or are extremely confused. End of story.

Great Goddess conspiracy theories: Back in the mid-19th century, Eduard Gerhard proposed that people all used to worship the Great Goddess, until patriarchy came along and replaced her with a god. There's literally no evidence for this whatsoever, but a lot of people who believe that patriarchy is part of a grand conspiracy still believe this one. You'll often see it in conjunction with stuff about the "divine feminine" and womb magic among those who believe that patriarchy is part of the grand conspiracy.

Claims of mass ritual abuse and murder: An allegation that goes back to blood libel and the witch trials, far right conspiracy theorists often claim that there is an underground network of cults practicing ritual abuse and human sacrifice. This was the kind of thing that people were put under hypnosis to try and remember during the Satanic Panic, based on incorrect beliefs about how memory worked. (In reality, going under hypnosis to try and recover lost memories mainly results in fabricating completely new ones, because hypnotic visions basically work just like dreams.)

Claims of mass mind control: Not many people realize this, but this one goes all the way back to the witch hunts, when alleged witches were accused of ensnaring people's minds with their diabolical spells. (Yes, the witch trials were fueled by conspiracy theories!) Today's conspiracy theorists claim that the conspiracy uses things like music, movies, implants, subliminal messages, drugs, medications, 5G, extreme tortures, and more to put people under total mind control. The whole Project Monarch conspiracy theory is part of this; and a number of people were also put under hypnosis to "remember" being part of Project Monarch during the Satanic Panic.

Anti-pharma/anti-vax conspiracy theories: During World War II, Nazis demonized pharmaceutical drugs as "Jewish science" so they could push cheaper herbal remedies, which were largely ineffective. If you see somebody claiming that pharmaceutical drugs or vaccines are created by the conspiracy to keep people sick or make them easier to control, know that it's a redux of this old bullshit. Today's anti-pharma and anti-vax conspiracy theories often go in conjunction with claims that stuff like crystals, energy healing, and quantum healing technology can replace conventional medical care.

Claims to know the real cause of your medical or psychological symptoms: During the early modern witch hunts, strange symptoms were often blamed on the curses of satanic witches. The Satanic Panic picked this one up and modernized it through a psychological lens, claiming that seemingly inexplicable symptoms were evidence of suppressed memories of ritual abuse. Meanwhile, believers in alien abductions claimed it was evidence of suppressed memories of alien-related trauma, and neopagans and New Agers claimed it was evidence of past life trauma. All of these people have used hypnosis to help people "remember" these supposedly lost memories, and due to the nature of hypnosis (again, hypnotic visions work like dreams), all of them found "evidence" to corroborate literally anything they wanted to find.

Other modernizations of this old witch hunters' canard include claims that your strange symptoms are caused by things like 5G, chemtrails, chemicals in the water, food additives, sound frequencies, or such. Now this isn't to say that there's never been toxic food additives, or that certain sound frequencies can never cause harm; the key element is when these people claim that this stuff is done as part of a grand conspiracy.

Meanwhile, New Agers claim that your strange symptoms might actually be "ascension symptoms." For the record, numerous dates that ascension was supposed to happen on have gone and went, and we're all still here in 3D. So I'd recommend not holding your breath for this one, either.

Claiming the conspiracy is responsible for everything bad or wrong in the world: Conspiracy theorists will blame the grand conspiracy for literally anything they find unpleasant or objectionable to the conspiracy. This can include claiming that movies they found confusing, emotionally difficult, or ideologically challenging were deliberately designed to harm people or put them under mind control. They might claim that things like long wait lines are intentionally engineered to frustrate and exhaust people in order to make them easier to control. They might claim that horrible accidents or disasters are actually "programming" to make people accept the lie.

This isn't to say that governments never do genuinely malicious shit, or that brainwashing doesn't exist. The thing here is that conspiracy theorists frequently attribute nearly everything they find strange, confusing, or unpleasant to the schemes of a grand conspiracy. They often act like if it wasn't for the grand conspiracy, we would be living in utopia.

Dehumanization of the Other: Conspiracy theorists often talk as if the masses aren't quite human, calling them "NPCs" or "sheeple." Sometimes they literally believe that other people aren't truly human. You'll find various conspiracy theories claiming that certain people are actually animal hybrids, AI-controlled clones, malicious aliens pretending to be humans, holographic projections, or something similar. The key thing to keep in mind here is that dehumanization is a crucial step toward genocide, and the far right wants to do genocide on anyone who doesn't do what they say, or doesn't fit their idea of what humanity ought to be like.

Individualist outlooks on life, metaphysics, etc: Today's far right is all about that Western individualism; they tend to be capitalists and libertarians, and think communism is an invention of the conspiracy. Their metaphysical views tend to reflect this, and they often subscribe to some form of worldview in which everything that happens to you is your fault, and expecting anyone else to take any kind of responsibility is just victim mentality.

With Christians, this presents as the belief that bad things happen to you because you're not right with God; if you got right with God, he would bless you with health and abundance.

With New Age and New Age-adjacent types, this often presents as stuff like the Law of Attraction and the Law of Assumption, where everything that happens to you is a consequence of the way you think. It can also present in the belief that if anything bad happens to you, it's your karma.

Stuff like the Law of Assumption is pitched as this super empowering way to get everything you want, but in reality it functions to make people feel responsible for the suffering they experience under capitalism and silence criticism of systemic issues.

So yeah, keep your eyes open for all this stuff, and if you see somebody out there pushing it - be wary!

Links for more info:

"How can I be a witch/pagan without falling for conspiracy theories/New Age cult stuff?" starter kit (I put a bunch of links to other posts and resources here earlier; no need to copy/paste them all here.)

Incomplete list of far right conspiracy theorists and con artists claiming to be occult experts and/or cult survivors

Hypnosis is unreliable for memory recovery, and this is one way we know.

False past life memories among the starseed movement

Hitler's Contribution to "Alternative Medicine"

[s-4pphics]

let the rain sing. 2 (a.a)

wc;cw: 4.1k, dadsbestfriend!abby, lawstudent!oc, large age gap (oc is 25, abby is mid 40s), abby is bi <3, SMUT MDNI, nipple play, eating out no bbq, strap ons, fingering, mating press😳, dirty talk, squirting, dumbification, slight dubcon, choking, mult. orgasms, abby’s so pussy drunk soo real, angst :(, mentions of grief and loss, dassit me finks

You were going to kill somebody. It’s been declared. 

Your latest lecture was, by far, the worst you’ve ever had, and you were feeling vengeful. On your instructor, your classmates, everyone.

You seethed in your seat, smoke nearly wafting off you and suffocating you in the tight space of your car. You prayed that you wouldn’t get a speeding ticket from how hard your foot pressed on the gas pedal. The familiar sluggishness that overtook your form was making you hunch over the steering wheel, your worn eyes burning from tears as you recollected the pure devastation you felt when you saw terms on the screen that you weren’t familiar with yet just an hour before.  

You’d brought the wrong notebook to your last class, making the lecture completely fucking useless because you had nothing to reference. There were so many systems listed that you hadn’t memorized, terminology you didn’t remember from your books. And you were going to fucking… kill somebody. 

You’d been so fucking embarrassed. Nobody around you even knew or cared about your slip up, but you still searched around the room, waiting for someone to ridicule you for fucking up this late in the game. You were about to graduate, and you still were behaving like a fucking rookie. A first year. Maybe you weren’t ready for your fucking degree. 

You’d scrambled to get as many notes down as you could without snapping your hand clean off your wrist, but it wasn’t enough to jog your memory. 

Your vehicle came to a halt when you reached the now all too familiar neighborhood, and you put your car in park in front of the residential mailbox. 

You hadn’t realized that you took the backwoods route that led to Abby’s neighborhood. You were parked right in front of her home, and you thanked god when you saw her car parked in the driveway. You never came to see her without warning, but you were so desperate for a distraction that you hadn’t bothered to text her. You need anything to ease the tension in your body from today, even just for a little bit. 

You exited and locked your car before booking it across the street and up the stairs to her porch, knocking on her front door with urgency; The pounding on the wood made your headache worse. 

It took only a minute for her door to pull open, and you were instantly swallowed up by the smell of flowers, her scent surrounding you and easing the tension in your shoulders. She looked so comfortable, only clad in sweats, a tank top, and slides, her soft hair framing her face. The tension in your shoulders eased a bit.

She smiled at the sight of you, the lines of her eyes creasing, but it dropped when she studied your expression, “Hi, you okay?” 

You shrugged. You don’t think you were. You weren’t sure anymore. 

Your breathing shuddered, your anger from earlier shifting into want when you saw her, “Um… sorry for coming without notice— “

She shook her head gently, “No, no, it’s alright. I was just reading, come in.”

She moved to the side and allowed you entry, shutting and locking the door behind you. 

Her angelic voice came from behind you as you threw your purse on her couch, “Would you like some tea? I just bought this new flavor! It’s mint and chamomile and it’s so good. I usually don’t drink mint things because my teeth are sensi— “

“Abby,” you cringed at the tone you used to cut her off. 

“Yes?”

You spun to look at her, “I don’t want tea.” 

“… Oh. Okay.” She looked around awkwardly, her eyes downcast. 

A moment of silence passed before she spoke, “Wanna go upstairs?” 

You're glad she understood. You nodded with persistence. 

“Please.” 

You trapped Abby against her bedroom door, slamming it shut as you shoved your tongue in her mouth. 

The kiss was eager and desperate, your hands grabbing everywhere they could on her body. You attacked her hair, tits, thighs, anywhere you could reach as you pressed up against her. Hers were on you just as much, but much more calculated, tightly grabbing at the plush on your hips, her nails digging through your sweater. She grabbed your ass through your jeans, spreading the cheeks as much as she could through the fabric. 

Your mouths were smacking together, spit coating the outside of your mouths as your teeth clanged together. It was wet and sloppy, and it made you drip in your underwear. Her strong arms came up to wrap around your hips, and she led you both over to her perfectly made bed. 

You detached your mouth from hers to yank her t-shirt off, her arms coming up so you could toss it somewhere. You eyed her bare chest before reconnecting your lips. You brought your hand up to her chest to squeeze her tits, tweaking her nipples with precision. She hummed in your mouth and kissed you deeper, her hands traveling to pull at the hem of your sweater. 

You raised your arms up so she could remove the fabric, but before you could pounce on her again, she pushed you onto her cloud-like mattress, looking down at your laid-out body from where she stood above you. 

But she didn’t move on you like she usually did; she just stared, her eyes wandering over your body. You watched her take in your bra-clad chest, wandering down to your stomach and belly button, only to come back up to eye your chest again. She was digesting you with such patience that it made you insecure, but you didn’t move from your position. Your heart matched the pounding pulse of your cunt. 

She brought her hands up to your torso, right under the hem of your bra, laying her palm flat against the bare skin. Your breath caught in your throat when her nails dug into you, and you arched into her touch; you needed her closer. Her hand slowly dragged down your body until she reached the button of your jeans. 

She didn’t undo them, dragging her hand back up your body until she reached your tits, grabbing at both with one hand before her other hand coming to join her massages. You watched her face shift as she touched you; her eyes were hungry but… fragile as her cheeks glowed in the dimly lit space. 

Her hands slipped under your bra, her fingers immediately playing with your nipples. Your core clenched with every pull she gave them, your body shuddering under her precise attacks. Your back arched into her touch as your eyes fluttered. 

And then you heard the ripping of fabric. 

You looked down in shock as she tore at your bra, completely ripping it to shreds and tossing the flimsy strands behind her and onto the floor. You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face at her desperation. She giggled when you shook your head at her. 

She leaned over you, her head ducking down to suck your nipples into her mouth; She moaned into the skin as her tongue swirled around you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch her lath at your chest, coating them in her spit as her tongue flicked on your buds.

Your hips twitched under her body, “Fuck me, Abby, please— “ 

“Needa get you wet first, baby,” she hummed around your nipple, her words shaking the sensitive skin. You jerked, your legs twitching next to her hips. 

“I’m so fuckin’ wet already, c’mon, gimme what I want— “

Your words were cut off by her soft lips as they molded against yours. You made a small noise, your eyes slowly fluttering shut at the feel of her pillowy mouth. She kissed you with so much care and affection, and it made you squirm, your thighs squeezing around her waist. 

You were pulled out of your trance when you felt her hand on your cheek, her thumb softly caressing your face. You instantly stiffened; She was so sweet, too fucking gentle, and it your heart pound at an alarming pace, anxiety suddenly swirling in your stomach as you cringed. 

You gently pushed at her shoulders and looked at her, her brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You alright?” She checked in softly. 

You nodded quickly, your pussy squeezing at her tone. “Um… yeah. Just— can we, like— “

She shuffled off you and stood at the side of bed, awkwardly grabbing at the back of her neck as she apologized, “Yeah! Um, I’m sorry. I kinda just— “

“Don’t apologize! I’m just in a,” Lie. Just fucking lie! You looked off to the side, “… kinda in a hurry.” 

You sounded like such an asshole. You had nowhere to fucking be, but you always felt terrible whenever you were forced to shut down her intimate gestures. You had no choice but to be stiff with her; She knew what this was between you two, and it could never go beyond that. 

You watched her back muscles flex as she rummaged through her drawer, pulling out her strap and some lube. She undressed quietly, only clad in her boy shorts as she stepped into and adjusted the thick dick on her waist, securing it before turning around to look at you, returning to her previous space between your legs. 

You shivered with want, moving to unbutton your jeans, but she slapped your hands away to do it herself. She moved hastily, ripping your pants and underwear down your legs, and tossing them to the floor.

Your bare pussy throbbed as you held your legs open so she could ease into your cunt, but she yanked you to the edge of the bed, your ass hanging off it and dropped to her knees. 

She shoved her tongue inside your pussy without warning, her wet muscle wiggling around, massaging your walls as your clit pulsed. Your head dropped onto her sheets as you sighed, her tongue swiping up from your entrance to your twitchy bud. She spat the wetness she collected from inside you onto your clit and you groaned. 

She sucked it into her mouth, and you cried out, your hands flying down to her soft hair to pull at it. 

She was licking into all of your spots with enthusiasm, and your hips bucked into her mouth as your orgasm quickly built in your stomach. She took time to learn your body in a way that no one else did and it always shocked you how fast she made you cum. You could already fucking feel it with every quick flick of her tongue on you. 

You bucked in shock when you felt two of her thick fingers slip past your entrance, curling up to hit that spot inside that made you see white. She was hitting it with obscene accuracy, your pussy practically melting around her fingers with every plunge into you. You were about to see god, she was going to make you squirt—

“Fuckin’—ah fuck!”

Your orgasm was going to be big; you felt it and it was so fucking close—

You need to cum, you need it you need it! “Abby, fuck, s’coming— “

Your hands shamelessly flew behind your knees to hold your legs up, your shouts of your orgasm increasing in pitch. You craned your neck and you forced your eyes open to look down at her, finding that she was already staring up at you, watching you lose it on her tongue. 

“Feels s’good, fuck— “

She grinned on your pussy, “Then cum in m’fucking mouth, baby, needa swallow it— “

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your walls crushed her fingers, your orgasm building and building and building—

You couldn’t even understand your loud babbles as her fingers dug into you, milking your spot and forcing your cum out of you and onto her tongue. Your eyes fell shut as your body wracked in pleasure. You shouted obscenities and her name and demands of fuck me harder! The splashes of your wetness coated your thighs and her blankets and her. 

You could hear her slurping at your cum as it poured out of you, her tongue shoving in alongside the grind of her fingers. She was moaning against your pussy like she was cumming, and it made you cum harder. 

You felt her pull away and out of you, the cap of a bottle opening and sloppy wet sounds filling your ears. You nearly screamed when her dick squeezed in between your still clenching walls. Pure pleasure and shock rushed through you, prolonging the last bits of your orgasm. 

You felt a soft hand grab your chin as she allowed you to recover, your eyes fluttering open to meet her serene ones. 

“Okay, honey?” She cooed at you. 

You blinked dazedly as your walls clenched harder on her, and she chuckled, slowly pushing deeper into you, “Yeah? Missed me, baby?”

Your pussy clenched in approval, and you nodded thoughtlessly. Her nails dug into your jaw as she grinded into you, “Missed this tight fucking pussy. Always thinkin’ about it.”

You brokenly moaned her name. She pulled out and fucked back into you harder, making you squeal. 

She released the soft grip she had on your face, tightly grasping the back of your knees, and pinning them to your chest. You gasped sharply as she slid deeper, hitting where you couldn’t reach, right where you needed her. You could already feel another orgasm building in your toes, your eyes watering from the quick snap of her hips. 

You couldn’t think or talk coherently as she used you, rendering you completely brainless every time her fat tip hit your g-spot. All you could do was grab at her hips, her thighs, her sheets, and wail at the top of your lungs how good it felt. The wet sounds of your pussy drenching her dick made your toes curl. 

You were going to sleep so fucking good. 

“You’re so fucking sexy, holy fuck— “

Your stomach was in tight knots as her skin slapped against yours. 

“Can’t think with this dick inside you? Huh?” She sounded so cocky with every sneer she sent you, your eyes shut tightly. It’s right there, right there right there—

“This is all you want from me? Need me t’take care of this nasty fucking cunt?” She spat at you. 

You hated it when she said things like that aloud, when she made your indifference towards her known; It crushed your heart, but how could you express your grievances when she was this deep in your guts? You were awful and selfish, and she didn’t deserve to be used like this, but you needed it. Needed her to do this for you. It made you feel sane, every thought in your head silenced and replaced with her her her—

You babbled nonsense warnings of how hard you were about to cum, and you felt her large hand clutch your throat. You wheezed out begs, pleading her to keep fucking you there, make you cry. Please, please, please, I need to sleep, Abby, please!

“Shhh, I gotchu, baby. Such a good girl.” 

Your orgasm shocked you and her. You couldn’t hold back the scream you let out when your eyes shut, —even with her choking you out—your brain rattling in your head as your body attempted to jerk away from the intense pleasure she gave you. 

But she held your legs down, keeping you still as she fucked you through it. You heard her moaning over your sobs and keens, only making out so fuckin’ hot and gonna make me cum so fucking good, and it threw you right into another orgasm. 

Your walls squeezed around her with such constriction that she could barely move, but she managed to pull out and you almost cried at the emptiness, your orgasm slowly dying. She grabbed your hips and eased you higher up the bed before climbing up, pressing against and looming over you. 

She hooked your knees into the crevice of her elbow, popping her tip into you with no hands, slowly pushing in so you could feel her. The details of her dick were catching on your walls and the feeling was making you tear up. She eventually sat fully inside you, grinding her entire length in so her tip nudged your spot, and you were about to fucking cum—

You were completely limp under her, relishing the kisses and sucks she gave your neck. She slid out slowly until just her tip was in you before dropping her hips, fucking her cock back into you. You thought you screamed but no noise left you as she pounded your cunt. She was hitting you so good, rotating between moving with her dick fully lodged in your guts and thrusting as pretty moans filled your ear. 

You came so fucking hard, only having strength to pull at her sheets and sob, squealing her name and trembling as she sent you to space. She was somehow louder than you were, and you knew she was cumming. You had no energy to move, to stop her, to do anything. You just laid there and took what she gave as your body melted into the memory foam, relaxing completely as she rode out her pleasure inside you. 

Your walls were still contracting around her dick, hugging like they never wanted her to leave, wanted to cling onto her forever. Her movements eventually came to a stop as she whined in satisfaction into your neck. She plopped against you, your sweaty, heaving chests pressed together. 

The last thing you remember before knocking out was her soft kisses on your skin. 

You woke up to blinding sunshine. You forgot to shut the fucking blinds again. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, shoving your face into the plush pillow under you. You inhaled deeply and immediately stiffened. 

Flowers. Fucking flowers, what the fuck—

You never left Abby’s last night. 

You quickly sat up as your head rushed, looking over to see the vacant, mussed spot on her bed. You could hear the shower running and quiet hums coming from the master bathroom, and it made your heart race. 

You threw the covers off you and stood quickly, walking over to where your clothes were neatly folded on her dresser. You saw the remaining strands of your bra balled up near her mirror. You hated how your pussy clenched.

You grabbed your clothes and dressed in urgency, nearly tripping over your stubborn pant leg. 

The clattering of your phone falling from your pocket shook you. You bent down to grab it, the bright screen reading 12:34 and showing six missed calls from your parents. Fuck, fuck, fuck—

The running water shut off and you tensed. 

You shoved your phone in your back pocket as your flight senses tingled. You would feel awful if you left her place without warning, and she would probably never talk to you again if you did. You were guarded around her enough as it is, and the last thing you were going to do was embarrass her further. 

You stood by the dresser, awkwardly playing with your fingers until the bathroom door opened.

A dripping Abby walked out, clad in a towel, her wet hair wrapped in another as steam left the bathroom. 

She shut the door gently before turning to face you. She looked bright, but it dimmed when she took in your frazzled appearance. You needed to leave. Now, now, now—

“H-Hey, um… are you leaving?” 

You nodded stiffly, voice monotone, “Yeah. I didn’t wanna leave without telling you, though.” 

Her hand on the doorknob dropped to her side as she sighed in exasperation. She scoffed, “That’s surprising. I thought you would’ve taken any opportunity to leave.”

Your eyes squinted at her suddenly snarky tone. You two never argued: there may be tension or words left unsaid after you leave her, but you never fought about your relationship, “What the hell are you talking about?” 

She looked at you in shock, “Really? You’ve been acting like being around me is a chore this entire time! We… We don’t even speak— “

“What is there to talk about?” Your voice rose to match hers, your arms flailing around. “We both know what we agreed to when we started this!”

“I know we did! But you…” she looked so hurt and her voice was cracking, and it was making you uncomfortable. “You just treat me like I’m— “

You didn’t want to hear this anymore. You interrupted her harshly, “I'm not treating you like anything! We’re behaving exactly how we’re supposed to be! If anyone were to find out about what we’re doing, we’re fucked! That’s… that’s just how it is now!” 

She took her bottom lip between her teeth and sniffled. She nodded and looked down at her bare feet before meeting your eyes again. Hers were teary, and it sent a painful jolt from your chest to your head, your heart filling with remorse. You needed to lay the fuck down. 

Her voice shook as she spoke, but it was stern. 

“Fine. You… you can let yourself out.” 

Your shoulders dropped and your tone softened, “Abby— “

She shook her head, hers spiteful. “You know where the key is. Enjoy the rest of your day.” 

You couldn’t get your apologies out before she pried the bathroom door open, walking inside and slamming it shut behind her. You flinched as it echoed in your skull. 

The ringing of your phone blared through her four walls. You resigned, leaving her bedroom and gently shutting the door. You walked over to her staircase, pulling your device out to answer your mother’s call. 

“Hey,” You leaned against the stair railing, trying to ignore Abby’s quiet sobs coming from her room. Your eyes shut, guiltily picking at the skin on your lip. 

Your mom’s angered tone blasted through the speakers, “What the hell do you mean hey! Where have you been!” 

You descended the stairs, sighing when you reached the bottom, “I… was at my friend's house! We got caught up, my bad.” 

“Yeah, well, when you get caught up, you better tell m— “ 

Your mom’s voice was suddenly cut off by your father’s distant laughter. You heard her shout gimme my phone before your dad’s cheery tone rang through the line. 

“Heyyy, sweetheart. Ignore your mom, when are you comin’ home?” 

You couldn’t help the tears that jerked in your eyes at his voice. 

What the fuck were you doing. 

You cleared your throat before speaking, “I’m, uh… I’m leaving my friend's place now. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, baby! Take your time,” You heard your mom yell out don’t tell her that!

“I love y’all,” You did, you loved them so much. 

“We love you so much more. Drive safe,” You heard your mom’s shout and your father’s laughter, and more tears jerked in your eyes. 

When the line went dead, you propped yourself over the back of Abby’s couch and cried in silence. You tried to keep your small breakdown short; You still had so much editing to do for your thesis. But you couldn’t stop your flowing tears. 

The drops slid down your face and onto her soft lounge pillows. You never cared enough to inspect her living space since she invited you in the first time, but you couldn’t help your wandering eyes as you digested her living room. The area was quaint and serene: there was a small fountain propped on a small table in the corner of the room, crème and black walls littered with framed artwork, decorative tables holding vases filled with fresh roses, her coffee table that still held the half filled, rose-littered mug with a tea bag string hanging out of it, her reading glasses. A framed photo of a smiling Abby carrying her just as happy baby girl on her back in front of a lake. 

And a marked book titled Working Through Grief right next to it. 

It forced a loud sob out of you, your hand flying over your mouth to hush any noise you might’ve made.

You fucked up. You fucked up so bad, and you still had the audacity to be in her safe space. You needed to go; you couldn’t fucking breathe. 

You snatched your purse off the couch and booked it for the front door, almost forgetting to retrieve the key to lock it behind you. You secured it and hid the key in its designated spot before rushing across the street to your car. 

You grabbed your keys from your purse and unlocked it, pulling the driver's door open before flinging yourself inside. You slammed the door and your heavy head dropped onto the steering wheel. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm the nausea that hit you out of nowhere. Sobs wracked through you as you shook in your seat. 

You were so fucking selfish. 

daaaamn wassup y’all 

writers block tried to get me omg y’all seen that shit😳😳 I FOUGHT BACK THO 

taglist y’all know wassup omg love y’all @saturnsellie @ohlawdthebirds @fibrogirlie @unangelic-thoughts @chrry1ovr @uraesthete @gravygranules @digit4lslut @machetegirl109 @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @macaroni676 @sillygooselit

kissies mwwwwAHHHHH

prologue. part one. part three. interlude. part four.

[ara-line]

Some myth busting about Israel's Eurovision participation

Do note that I use countries here when referring to participation. The term broadcasters would be more accurate since a national broadcaster chooses the entrant and the broadcaster is a member of the European Broadcasting Union, the organization behind Eurovision. But a lot of people use the term countries instead of broadcasters, hence why I'm using that word as well.

Myth 1. "Israel isn't even in Europe"

Well, any country that's part of the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), which Israel, Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Georgia are members of, can participate. Same goes for associate members like Australia, hence why Australia is allowed to participate. Lebanon and Morocco could also participate but choose not to because of Israel. In fact, Morocco's only participation was when Israel wasn't participating in the contest, and Lebanon planned to participate but didn't because of Israel's participation. There are rumours going around that this is also the case for Tunisia and Qatar.

Myth 2. "Eurovision banned Russia but not Israel."

Not completely true. Russia was initially going to participate in the 2022 contest, but several countries protested against Russia's participation and threatened to withdraw if Russia was allowed to participate, thus leading to them being kicked out. We will come back to this point about several countries threatening to leave.

Myth 3. "A lot of the artists speaking out about Israel could actually just withdraw from the contest to make a real statement."

You do realize the EBU actually will fine countries if they withdraw too late without good reason? I'm pretty sure a lot of these countries have contracts in place for their contestants, and since the contest is set to take place in mid May, withdrawing would mean possibly being blacklisted from the music industry and losing out on more opportunities. Not for being pro Palestine, but because they backed out on a contract they signed and left the many, many people who work behind the scenes high and dry on really short notice.

Technically not a myth but worth mentioning: 4. "Israel should be kicked out because her presence is a security risk."

Where do we even begin with this? If a country like Sweden, where the contest is being hosted, isn't able to protect its contestants from terrorist attacks, they shouldn't be hosting. It's that simple. I doubt anyone would've said this if Russia was allowed to participate in 2022.

Myth 5. "Eurovision lets Israel pinkwash its crimes."

@pauvrecamille really summed up how a lot of the discourse around pinkwashing can be boiled down to "country I hate gives their gays more rights than one I like." We could talk about how the only transgender winner is from Israel herself.

And if there is a case to be made for pinkwashing in Eurovision, I would argue that it applies more to Russia and Azerbaijan than it does to Israel. At least Israelis can criticize their government and not fear being arrested.

Speaking of Azerbaijan:

Myth 6. "If even one country withdraws from the contest, then that will send a statement to the contest."

Not true. Armenia withdrew from the 2021 contest because of the war with Azerbaijan, while Azerbaijan was allowed to participate in the contest. This is even after we already know they've cheated twice in the contest, on top of the human rights violations. And we could talk about how so many were forcibly displaced because of Azerbaijan hosting the competition in 2012.

We can also talk about how Ukraine withdrew from the contest in 2015 because of Russia's invasion. Russia was still allowed to participate and went on to place second that year.

In 2008, Russia invaded Georgia and in 2009, the Georgian entry was called "We Don't Wanna Put In" which contained veiled references to Putin's invasion. Because Russia was hosting the contest that year, the EBU tried to get Georgia to change their song. Georgia refused and ended up withdrawing.

Remember what I said about several countries threatening to withdraw if Russia was allowed to participate in 2022? It took a total of 10 countries expressing their concerns about Russia's participation and three or four threatening to withdraw if Russia was allowed to actually get the EBU to reverse course on their decision. So there's that.

EDIT: Myth 7: "People wouldn't be bullying the artists for participating in the contest if the EBU kicked Israel out."

Why am I even surprised this is a talking point?

Edit: Myth 8: "Eurovision is treating Israel differently because of the whole lyrics change situation."

I've seen this on both sides, and this is not true. I've mentioned Georgia earlier, but I also want to mention Armenia's 2015 entry, originally called Don't Deny. It was changed to Face the Shadow and allowed to compete. It's reportedly about the Armenian genocide. The point is, stuff like this happens all the time. In 2021, in the midst of protests and lack of freedom, Belarus sent a pro government band with a song containing veiled lyrics threatening to subjugate the protestors. The EBU allowed them to submit another song but ultimately, Belarus was kicked out after they still failed to follow the rules.

So no, this is not out of the norm. At least from what I know. I'm more than happy to edit this section out if I have been proven wrong. God knows I've edited this post many, many times.

Final thoughts:

A lot of the people who are all high and mighty about boycotting Eurovision would absolutely not be doing that if it was Russia participating. They certainly didn't when Azerbaijan did in 2021.

A lot of the misinformation around Eurovision this year can be chalked up to antisemitism and not understanding how contracts work. I think it's also really performative and virtue signaling at best. Yes, it's true that the postcards(clips for the broadcast while preparing for the next performer) for the 2019 contest, held in Israel, where filmed in disputed territories.

Actually, let's talk about the postcards.

You see, KAN, the Israeli broadcaster, chose not to film the postcards in territories like the West Bank. And they were criticized for it by the right wing Israeli government. So there is a true fact about something bad the Israeli government did that you can criticize them for.

Now back to the topic at hand.

Yes, it's true that Israel's lyrics were changed so they could go ahead and participate this year. It's just that now, it's really difficult to have a sane conversation about Israel in general. It's difficult to have a sane conversation about antisemitism with some people. Take this post here trying to combat antisemitism only to end up having to fight Islamophobia. Put a big F in the chat for the OP of that post, yikes.

If no one got called anti LGBT when the World Cup was held in Qatar and people still watched, I don't see why people who choose to watch Eurovision this year should be called pro genocide.

Last but not least, I want to end this on a more positive note, so this year's contest is looking really good. No one's completely sure who will take the win this year, but right now the song with the most bets to win the contest is Switzerland. It's not like 2023, where we all knew who was going to win weeks before the actual contest. So I'm interested in the outcome this year. You guys are more than welcome to throw in your own opinions on this year's caliber of songs if you want.