#pool vacuuming system

[mydecorative]

Essential Maintenance Tips For A Backyard Pool

Are you interested in installing a backyard pool? It's an investment that goes a long way in creating a fun play space for your family members and guests. Read on to discover some of the key maintenance tips.

[miraculous-metamorphosis]

MLB SIMULACRUMS OF LUCK

Prompt by @sillysiluriforme, full list here: 🦋

Death smells like roses. Pins and needles in her lungs, stabbing, poisoning her physical body as much as she poisons the emotions of the world around her. The ground of the hotel staircase is cold and in desperate need of a vacuum. Or in this case, several body bags. A girl in limbo, screams out, yet unheard, a sound that no one can physically hear. It’s like when trees fall in empty woods. No one is here to listen to the sound, nor is alive enough to hear it. Here they are useless to the world now. Limp bodies filled with purple perfumes of poison. However, far enough away, this deadly aroma smells like roses. Roses mixed with a metallic tone while rot waits its turn. Even if it is not the cause of death, blood still pools by her. But it is not her own blood. A fellow guest to the charity event was midway down the stairs when she inhaled the fatal fumes, before collapsing down the stairs and splitting her head on the cold and harsh ground. The princess has no need for these guests. To her, they would be such pitiful servants, unworthy to even worship her. Especially Chloé Bourgeois. The Queen is dead, all hail the Princess. However, death can be a joke in the face of a scélérat. Elsewhere outside, the heroes of Paris declare a “Miraculous”! After freeing the princess from the butterfly inside her, the small spirits of the bugs and felines fly and climb their way into this fatalistic hallway. The cats look down and enter into the lungs of the dead, and into their veins, pulling out the poison in their system. It was painless but they were still dead enough to not feel a thing, including Chloé Bourgeois. The ladybug spirits patiently wait for the cats to finish cleansing the bodies whose times haven’t truly come yet. And when they do, they switch in, returning the blood to their rightful veins, returning the oxygen to their lungs, reversing their visit into the afterlife. Chloé jolts awake, a gasp of stale hallway air entering her lungs, yet no longer feeling the pins and needles that scratched her throat in the seconds she felt before. Did she know she died today? Did she know she was like a zombie came back to life? It doesn’t seem like she does, lessons don’t tend to stick to her. After all; this scélérat’s driving emotions was her fault, still. This resuscitation was not be the first for the people of Paris, and it will not be the last either. The heroes at least quickly learned not to take this part of their recovery process for granted. But that doesn’t mean the citizens won’t. Even if she died, Chloé did not learn a thing today. What will it take for her to learn, then?

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {2}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando's new role of taking care of you is one he takes very seriously. Warnings: 18+ only, grief and loss, depression WC: 2.6k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

Lando felt useless as he watched you cry in your sleep, the quiet whimpers making him hate himself even more. He should have come by and checked in on you, he should have been a better friend. He had foolishly convinced himself that you were better off without his interference since all he did was remind you of what you lost. 

He remembered how hard it had been to get back into his race car for the first time after the funeral and not see René in the McLaren next to him. It had been a gut punch that was more shocking to his system than the weight of the casket he had carried on his shoulder. Whatever loss he was feeling could only be tenfold for you and he didn’t want to make it worse.

Now he wished he could go back in time and save you from yourself, but all he could do was plan to help you move forward.

He grabbed a blanket from inside the ottoman and draped it over you, the very same one he used countless times when it got too late and he would crash on the couch after a movie night or BBQ. It was like a mausoleum of memories and he could feel himself tearing up as he walked around the room opening the curtains and windows for some much needed fresh air. 

Stepping out onto the terrace he found the pool you had loved to swim in daily was ruddy brown and the once pristine garden that you had tended to was overgrown with vines creeping up the stonework of the house. Anger flooded him and he pulled his phone out. 

“Why the hell did no one invite Y/N?” he growled when his team principal answered the phone. “She didn’t even know about René's memorial.”

“Look, take a breath, I know it’s upsetting but the FIA didn’t feel comfortable having her there after her accusations last year.”

Lando laughed humorlessly as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Uncomfortable? Fucking unbelievable. Of course they are uncomfortable, they pretty much killed him.”

“Lando…” Andrea started to warn him.

“I know, I know.” Lando took a deep breath. “Is there really a ‘surviving spouse’ clause in our contracts?”

“It’s not exactly easy to get life insurance for you guys, too much risk,” Andrea confirmed. “Look, I’m not going to say stay away from her, but be discreet, we don’t need to be pissing off the FIA right now. Pictures of your car at her house is not discreet.”

Lando frowned as the call ended and he opened instagram to see he had been tagged in a photo.

Only moments later did his phone vibrate with a What’s App message from his old teammate, Daniel Riccardo.

It was still daytime when you woke up on the couch to find all the curtains and windows open wide. Your neck protested the movement of getting up but it was quickly overpowered by the pain shooting down your legs and you remembered why you drank so much in the first place.

“Lando?” you called out, wondering where he was as you stood up on shaky legs.

You searched the house and found the carpet in your bedroom covered in foam cleaner to try get the bloodstains out and all the glass had been vacuumed up too. Other than that, there was no sign of Lando at all so you walked outside and followed the sounds of quiet cursing in the backyard.

“Is that a good idea?” you asked as you sheltered your eyes from the harsh sun and looked up at a shirtless Lando scaling an unstable ladder.

“Probably not,” he shot back, leaning out with a pair of clippers to cut the vines climbing the house. “Will it stop me? No.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped into the garden bed and grabbed hold of the ladder to try stabilise while you looked around and saw he had already mowed the lawn. 

“You must still be single then I take it,” you said with a shake of your head. “You never had this much time to waste when you had a girlfriend.”

“First of all, it’s not a waste of my time. And secondly, well, yeah, okay, I am single. But that’s not the point and not why I’m doing this.” He nearly lost his balance as he hacked at a stubborn vine and scrambled to cling to the ladder. “Maybe I’ll call an arborist. And someone to clean the pool too.”

“Stop, please, you don’t need to do any of that.”

“I know,” he said as he jumped down and used his discarded shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. “I want to.” He nodded his head back to the house. “Food’s ready, I was waiting on a sleeping beauty to wake up.”

You self consciously touched your hair at the comment and stepped away before he followed but he easily caught your hand.

“Don’t do that,” he said with a shake of his head. “Don’t shy away. You still look beautiful, and I am almost decent at untangling curls so we will tackle that whole situation after you have eaten something.”

“Lando, Lan, La-”

He shoved the spoon into your mouth with a laugh before dunking it back into the soup bowl and starting the aeroplane sounds again. “Here comes another one.”

“I’m going to shove that spoon up your ars-” He took the opportunity to get it past your lips again and you thumped him on the arm. “I can fucking feed myself. Give me that.” 

You swiped the spoon out his hand as he doubled over laughing and before you knew it a foreign sound bubbled from your chest and your cheeks ached as a smile tugged at the forgotten muscles. Lando froze at the sound before a slow smile broke over his face as he sat back in his seat like he had witnessed a miracle. 

“Stop staring, you’re making it weird,” you murmured as you took another mouthful of the surprisingly good soup. 

“For a while I didn’t think I would hear that again.” He smiled to himself as he stirred his soup. “You couldn’t go a minute without laughing and joking over something stupid.”

“That’s because you and René were always doing something stupid.” His name slipped past without a thought but the moment it filled the room you felt the air leave and the spoon trembled in your fingers. 

Your chair clattered backwards as you rose swiftly and covered your lips as if you could take it back.

You spun on your heel almost tripping over the chair as you rushed down the hallway. The back door you passed offered an escape from the suffocating weight on your chest but instead you ran deeper into the house, your feet flying as you spiralled down the stairs to the converted basement. You slammed into the door and it flung open as you burst into the space you hadn’t dared open in a year. 

This place wasn’t just his, it was an extension of him. The shelves were lined with his helmets, his team shirts hung on the walls. The trophies in glass cases were dull and dust clung to every surface. 

But in the cold, still air you could smell his lingering scent from the hours he spent playing on the sim set up in the corner. You closed your eyes and felt the air shift around you, feeling his presence enveloping you and chasing away the bone-numbing chill you had endured for 365 days.

“It’s finally real, Lando,” you whispered, knowing he was standing in the doorway watching your back. “When the house was silent I could pretend he was down here, playing iRacing or Gran Turismo. I could fucking pretend…that I wasn’t alone. If I didn’t call his name then I could pretend that’s why he doesn't answer me.”

Your vision blurred and when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your body you could pretend one last time that it was him holding you. It was the closest to a goodbye you would have.

“He’s gone.” You sighed and swallowed the lump in your throat knowing what you needed to do but somehow no longer finding the thought as daunting as you once did. “No more pretending.”

“I’ll try be gentle,” Lando promised as he stood behind you, armed with a hairbrush. 

He had poured a bottle of conditioner onto the bird's nest on your head and let it absorb for almost an hour before working up the courage to try and detangle it. While the conditioner was hopefully working its magic, he had helped to dust and polish René’s trophies, doing most of the work while you silently mourned the fantasy you had lived in. 

“Just do it,” you ordered as you locked eyes with him in the bathroom mirror.

“Here goes nothing.”

Your neck ached and your scalp burned by the end, and there was a huge pile of hair balls he had pulled off the hairbrush, but finally he was able to drag the brush relatively cleanly through your hair. 

“See, who’s the man?” he grinned as he flipped the brush confidently in his hand.

You rewarded him with a small smile in the mirror before turning and wrapping your arms around his narrow waist. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he said as his own arms encased you and he pressed a friendly kiss to your hairline. “Ugh, it smells like coconut but doesn’t taste like it.”

You laughed and stepped back with a wave to the door. “Go on, let me wash it out.”

It took far longer than you expected for your hair to finally feel clean but eventually you were satisfied with it and got out of the shower, wrapping the towel around your body. Your fingers automatically reached for a shirt of René’s when you opened the closet but something had changed in the basement. 

You grabbed a handful of his clothes and pulled them from the closet, coathangers flinging off in all directions, before grabbing another and another. 

“Hey, woah!” Lando skidded into the room thinking you were having another meltdown. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“If I keep them,” you panted as the small effort already exhausted you, “it’s all I will wear again, I just know it. I have to get rid of them.”

“Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly.

You sent him a peeved glare before opening the drawers next and grabbing the stack of sweatpants he had amassed over the years. “Yes!”

“Look,” he said softly as he raised his hands with the universal sign of peace, “why don’t we go and get some boxes, pack them up, and then you sleep on it before doing anything drastic?”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Lan.”

You did change your mind. 

You woke up at 3am and sprinted through the house to the front door, tripping over Lando’s leg that hung off the couch and waking him up with one hell of a fright. He burst onto his feet after pulling himself off the ground and his wild curls swung as he looked around for some threat. 

Seeing it was just you looking equally dishevelled, he grabbed your shoulders and bent his knees so he was at the same height. “Are you alright?”

“Tell me you didn’t throw them,” you begged as your rapid breathing sent stars dancing around your vision. “Please, please, please.”

“What? René’s clothes?” he asked as he wiped the sleep from his eyes before pointing to the door on the other side of the living room. “Of course not, they’re in the garage.”

The relief was immediate and you sagged against his warm chest only to notice he had taken his shirt off to sleep. Clearing your throat, you straightened up stiffly and frowned. “But I asked you to dump them…”

“I know, and if you still wanted that in the morning I would have done it.” He sighed and took a seat on the makeshift bed he made on the couch despite there being plenty of spare bedrooms in the house. He patted the space beside him and you took a seat, the only warmth coming from his arm touching yours. “It’s going to take time, Y/N. Moving on doesn’t just happen overnight, even when you are ready to.”

“You sound like a shrink.”

His shoulders bounced with a small laugh and he fell back into the cushions, pulling you with him. “Mandatory counselling sessions, courtesy of Zak. Everyone got them, and I think it helped. Maybe you cou-”

“Don’t push it, just be proud you got me out of bed today.”

“Hmmm, but then I got you drunk.”

You looked up to see he wasn’t happy about that and you didn’t like seeing that look on his face. “But then you brushed my hair.”

A small sleepy smile grew on his face as he looked at your hair that was a little messy after sleeping on it but nothing compared to what it was before. “I always liked your hair.”

“I always liked yours,” you admitted as you eyed the curls that fell over his forehead. “I wondered if they were as soft as they looked.”

He tipped his head down for you and you reached up, running your fingers through them leaving ringlets twirling closed again. Even when you pulled one out straight, the moment you released the strands they bounced back into shape. 

“Huh,” you chuckled as you did it again. “I thought you used hairspray to keep them perfectly curled.”

“As if I have time for that kind of maintenance,” he muttered drowsily as he closed his eyes and let you play with his hair. “That feels nice.”

“You’re no better than a house cat.”

He cosied deeper into the couch to get comfortable as he stretched his long legs out in front of him, his head falling onto your shoulder while you continued massaging his head. Just when you thought he was asleep, he let out a quiet, “Meow.”

Laughter filled the still air of the night and he peeked an eye open to watch you find joy for the second time in one day, a proud grin written on his face. “I missed your laugh.”

“Me too,” you admitted after feeling how light it made your pain, if only for a moment.

“I would go to the zoo and visit the hyenas when I really missed the sound.”

More laughter grew in your belly and you punched him repeatedly on the arm as the loud bursts escaped. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he gasped between his own fit of laughter before catching your hands and holding them above his head to stop your pitiful attack. “I just wanted to hear it again.”

You froze as you realised how close you were to him, your face only inches from his and his full lips so close to yours. Your heart stammered as his tongue peeked out as he licked his lips and you cleared your throat as you pulled away, shattering the strange moment.

“I’m, uh, I’m going to go back to bed,” you muttered weakly as you stumbled off the couch. 

He looked like he was going to say something as he sat up straight but his lips closed again and he nodded, settling for a polite, “Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Lando. And thank you again, for being here.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said as he settled back into the blankets and covered his very distracting body. “I should have been here sooner.”

You could have sworn you heard him whisper something more as you walked back down the hall.

“And I’m not leaving you again.”

Click here for part three.

[mysticstronomy]

WHY DO PLANETS ROTATE??

Blog#410

Saturday, June 15th, 2024.

Welcome back,

To answer this question, it helps to picture a game of pool. Hit the cue ball, and sometimes it strikes only a glancing blow on your target, setting it into a spin instead of launching it across the table. Most experts believe planets probably acquired their spin in much the same way, when clumps of matter collided during the planets’ formation about 4.5 billion years ago.

But why do they spin in the same direction? When our solar system was nothing but a cloud of gas and dust, what was likely a shock wave from a nearby supernova bounced up against it and caused it to collapse.

As it collapsed, its own gravitational forces pulled it into a flat, spinning disk. And since everything in our solar system was formed from that same disk, its momentum sent nearly everything spinning in the same direction.

(Notable exceptions include Uranus and Venus, whose odd spins probably stem from subsequent collisions with asteroids.)

Our planets have continued spinning because of inertia. In the vacuum of space, spinning objects maintain their momentum and direction — their spin — because no external forces have been applied to stop them. And so, the world — and the rest of the planets in our solar system — keeps spinning.

Originally published on www.discovermagazine.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, June 19th, 2024)

"A MISSING PIECE IN THE BIG BANG THEORY HAS SURFACED??"

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Saturday's Specials

So I've been letting several specials pass me by so after giffing Wandee I decided to basically go on a specials marathon. Oh and if you truly enjoyed any of these just don't read. Because well, for the most part, I didn't.

Starting with The Sign

It was so boring. I'm sorry but a whole new case for an hour and 20 minutes special, why? It was nice to see Saint and we did clear up a few things from the show (just like you said @twig-tea). But I didn't care for the investigation bit of the actual show, why should I care now? The ending of them by the pool was entertaining and I honestly think if they were to give me an hour of fluff with all the couples I would've preferred it. Just go on a trip and catch a purse snatcher and go back to the pool. I guess they needed to justify the money they asked people for this.

After this were the VBL specials

They used that heart bokeh in all but VIP Only. Missed opportunity for matching screenshots. You Are Mine was a love fest with a proposal in the end. It was the show I liked least originally so I wasn't really very invested. There was A LOT of kissing. And I guess they make a nice pair. But also I was bored. VIP Only. Fluff, no substance and Liu Li annoyed me a little. Nothing much to see here. The double date was cute I guess. Stay By My Side. This was my favourite show originally. This one feels like a continuation, including the problems in communication so good to know somethings don't change. There was a bit of tying of loose ends so that was good. They are still very cute together. Anti Reset. Just pure fluff. Couple goes to the amusement park. Couple goes on several rides and are very cute during it. Couple finds another couple (the one from SBMS) and compete to see who is more in love. Couple kisses by the river with hearts in the background and declare eternal love. The massive elephant in the room gets to just hang out.

And the last one...

Scent of Memory. Look, was it great to see them together again? Yes. Did I missed them? Yes. Are they still great together? Yes. Was it worth the wait? Hell no. They are cute as hell, and I still adore them, but this was like the whole original show condensed in an hour and we once again had to see one of them disappear. Was it a dream? Was it reality? Does it really matter? It was funny to see Yai get scared of the robot vacuum and the sound system and get quickly addicted to vr gaming. It was nice seeing Jom in charge. But it was blip. A montage. Cute yes but ultimately kinda hollow.

End of specials.

[faytelumos]

Jason Todd

Give Me a Character

How I feel about Jason? I love him. He's my boy. He's a martyr. He's a cautionary tale. He's always been doomed since the day he was born. The very universe itself conspires against him because readers wanted him to die. So he dies. Again and again, in every universe, he dies, and he fights, and he tries to make the world a better place, and he wants to be kind, but he is doomed, always, every time, even when he comes back. It's tragic, and I hate what they've done to him, but without it, he wouldn't be the same person. He wouldn't be my blorbo.

JoyFire (Jason Todd x Roy Harper x Koriand'r) is my OTP for this guy. And I will say it out loud, I also enjoy JayTim and JayDick. I like JoyFire because it's like… the family you choose. Each of them has trauma about getting left behind in some sense. So they'll never leave each other. Even if Jason's a jerk sometimes, he will never, ever leave either of them hanging when it matters even a little. And they're the same for him. I like JayTim because Tim thinks Jason is so annoying, and Jason thinks Tim is so smart and capable, and so there's a little bit of pining in there? Especially in the opposite way one would expect by looking at them. But Tim knows that Jason's smart, and I kind of ignore a bunch of the ugliness that happened right around Under the Red Hood with them, to be honest. Not completely, but some of it. I think that Tim can admire Jason's ingenuity and persistence even when he's rolling his eyes at him, and I think that Jason thinks so highly of Tim, even when he refuses to ever say it out loud. And as for JayDick, maybe some of it is just me smashing my favorite dolls together. I freaking love Dick Grayson. Who doesn't? And I freaking love Jason, and they have a complicated relationship, but they love each other, whether you want it to be brotherly, friendly, or romantic. They love each other, and I'll take that in any flavor I can get it.

Non-romantic OTP is also Jason and Dick. You cannot tell me these two don't share the braincell when they're in a room together. But also, they can be hyper competent together. If they're both motivated and working together, they can do anything. Including building a heated roof pool out of cardboard, a carbon metallic alloy, and a "borrowed" shop vacuum.

(Also gotta mention that I adore father-son pair Bruce and Jason. The two of them are just so wonderful together, how Jason brings such joy into Bruce's life and Bruce just wants Jason to heal and realize his dreams, ah!)

Unpopular opinion about him? Willis was a good dad. [lifts a megaphone] Willis Todd was a good dad! He was a victim of a broken system and turned to crime because it was the only means he had to provide for his family! Any time he laid a hand on Jason or Catherine was still unjustified, but it was because Willis was a deeply frustrated and scared man who had no system or room to handle his negative emotions or feel accomplishment in his life! [puts down the megaphone] Domestic abuse is never okay, and that goes the same if a woman is the abuser. But Willis was not an asshole, he was a poverty-stricken petty criminal with the most minimal support system. He loved Jason, and he loved Catherine, and he tore himself up to do his best to provide for them all the way to the end. His story is a sad one, he was not the villain, and I hate it when people say Jason is better off without him and didn't mourn him or feel bad about his death.

There's a lot of things I wished hadn't happened to him in canon, but most of all, I hate what Zur En Arrh did to him.* It was absolutely terrible, and then the fact that nobody was left to give Jason any support at all after the fact because they were all chasing Zur really gets to me. The way that one panel just showed him trembling, so small, alone, asking anybody at all for help…. It breaks my heart. Because it's always like that for him. He ends up alone, on his own, because he's the black sheep and he's mad about it, and he defends people who others leave behind. And it breaks my heart in a way that actually very truly makes me sad. Because there are people who think he deserves it. Including the writers.

[1141520851813892291920]

I was told I should come here to tell you about a recent experience I’ve had. Something about how you’re looking for scary stories or whatever. Sure, I’ll tell you, but it’s not like it’s going to help or anything. I don’t think anyone can help me, really.

It happened last night at time of writing, so Monday night. I work as a pool cleaner (pool technician is what they call it, can’t help but roll my eyes every time I have to say it) and with the summer months rolling in, work’s been busier than usual. Everyone wants their pool chlorinated and clean, everyone wants their pool tiling redone, everyone’s looking for a special rate, etc. So many uppity folks believing they’re more important and their water should be cleaned first instead of finding another way to stay cool. Bit annoying if you ask me, but it’s a job, and I couldn’t care less what these people blow their money on

Boss sent me out to some address out in the boonies and I assumed it’d be the same ordeal as always. I show up, vacuum out all the gunk, scrub up a bit, explain basic maintenance to the customer, yadayadayada. Even being out in the middle of nowhere, you don’t really assume anything. Outside of clearly these people are loaded if they live out of the way AND they’re calling about a pool cleaning. The drive there took about half the day because they were very insistent on someone coming out that same day, and I was content with the idea of an easy day for once.

I was wrong.

Everything seemed okay upon arrival. Quaint little house a couple miles out from the nearest town, beautiful property if I’m honest. The grounds surrounding the cottage seemed to be cluttered in a bunch of water fountains and irrigation systems for a small garden the owners were tending to. All of the water sources seemed to snake back in onto themselves, seemingly entangled and intertwined, it was all rather impressive. Whoever owned this land was probably more savvy than I was about the basics of plumbing. Made me wonder for a second why they’d needed a pool cleaner, but I had a job to focus on and not much time to think about it for longer than a passing moment.

When I knocked on the door of the residence, I was met with the most breathtaking view of a gorgeous woman who’d answered the door. A real looker, made me almost envy the person who got to be with her, I’d never been charming enough to end up with someone like that. I couldn’t tell you what she looked like now, or what she sounded like, or all of what she said, but I remember her eyes. I remember that while the rest of her seemed inviting and warm, those eyes remained cold and dark, almost analytical. Scanning for something that I couldn’t quite be sure of.

She’d told me that her husband had just left for work but that the pool was in the back. She handed me the check for services, and initially I was taken aback since normally payment comes after, but it was one less thing for me to worry about. She told me I could get started and that she’d be outside after she’d changed. Wasn’t really sure what that meant at the time, but I wasn’t going to decline seeing more of her, and with a nod I started to head to the back area of the cottage where the pool was.

By far it must have been the filthiest pool I’ve ever laid eyes on. Overgrown moss, all manner of disgusting, vile muck, as if the pool itself hadn’t been cared for in years. I swore I’d seen the carcass of a less than lucky squirrel at one point, but tried not to think about it all. Popped my headphones in and started the process of vacuuming the mess out of there, and I was thankful for the drone of noise that made it impossible to think for too long. It wasn’t until I felt a tap on my shoulder that I stopped, and what I saw when I turned around wasn’t what I expected.

The wife had joined me in the backyard in what had to be one of the skimpiest swimsuits in existence. Strings that screamed at the tension they were put under, and while I tried not to look, I couldn’t help myself. If she noticed, she didn’t seem to make any mention of it, but the next words out of her mouth could have made me keel over from excitement if that were possible.

“Would you help me with some sunscreen?”

We ended up heading over to a lawn chair she’d setup and I enjoyed the feeling of her warm flesh beneath mine as I rubbed the ointment into her skin. I don’t think I would have in retrospect, but in that moment it felt like that was the only thing that mattered in the world. I remember the way she looked at me with those eyes, and how I could see myself reflected in her gaze; I remember how sure of myself she made me seem, and how good it felt to escape my own self-doubts for once. How it wasn’t so bad to be a pool technician after all if it meant I’d get to experience the joy of beautiful women like this more. How I’d be able to tell my mother to kick rocks for thinking I’d never amount to anything.

At some point, she’d requested that I undo the straps tied on her back so she could get an even tan before she could get in the pool. My stomach lurched, but I agreed, and after undoing the straps, she instructed me to go finish up while she enjoyed the view. With a newfound surge of confidence, I set to work, scrubbing away all of the disgusting bits of dirt and grime in a jiffy. Even added some extra cleaning chemicals besides the chlorine so she wouldn’t have to trouble herself with worrying about not being able to take a dip in the pool. If I had known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have been anywhere near as excited. Funny how your thoughts circle when you have time to reflect on things.

My job completed, I announced that the pool was once again open for swimming, and earned a delighted giggle in return. Something that sounded so ephemeral, as though it were not of this world, but I wished to hear it again and again. I’d started to pack up my tools and planned on enjoying the many daydreams I’d be thinking of on the way back of this scenario I’d found myself in when a sudden movement caught my eye. When I turned to look, I found her beckoning me to come closer, a smile playing on her lips while her gaze never left mine. If everything else had been a fantasy prior, her next spoken words were the cherry on top.

“Would you like to join me?”

I watched in amazement as she removed the fabric that barely covered anything and slowly walked back into the pool, her eyes fixed on me, that same come hither motion ever present. I didn’t even need time to think. Before I knew it, I was freed from my clothes and in the water beside her, and we locked into a brief moment of passion. It all felt surreal, as if it weren’t what was happening, but good. That’s when I felt the pull on my ankle. A pull that at first seemed like something I’d neglected to fish out of the pool before announcing that the waters were safe, but one that quickly became terrifying. I felt myself get pulled under, and despite how shallow the pool was, I couldn’t climb back to the surface.

I felt dozens of what felt like hands pulling me deeper and deeper down into the depths of a pool that was much too big for what I’d just cleaned. I swore I heard whispers telling me that things would be so much better if I gave in and joined them and how life could be so much more if I relished being worth something as part of their group. Sentences that still don’t make much sense to me now but they don’t become any less terrifying. I reemerged from the surface as my vision started to darken, and scrambled out of the pool back to dry land, heaving up water as I did. As I caught my breath, I heard a voice say something that made my blood run cold.

“Look. At. Me.”

When I turned back around, I found the source of the voice coming from the pool. I was met with the creeping gaze of someone who’d submerged themselves beneath the surface, only their eyes and the top of their head visible. Whoever was in the pool, it didn’t look like the woman who’d answered the door, and they began to rise from the waters that now appeared murky once again. It was a wretched, decrepit old woman, one who appeared to have become bloated and waterlogged as though they’d been submerged for far longer than the human body can handle.

I watched in horror as she began to cackle, her skin peeling away from her body as she attempted to exit the pool and head in my direction. I was frozen in place and watched as with every shift of the water, this pool began to change, and alter. Faces reflected in the ripples of the waves she was making, faces that I swore I recognized. Her eyes had locked onto me with what I swore was the same cold, dark gaze I’d felt earlier in the day. She was halfway between me and the pool when I was able to steel myself and begin running back to the car. The last words I heard echo from her still haunt me now.

“Get back into the water. Join us. Join your friends. We’re waiting for you.”

I don’t think I stopped the car again until I heard the second alarm go off warning me about low fuel. Quit my job after, I don’t need that kind of stress in my life, there are other things I can do in the meantime. Hopefully the next gig has buxom babes who aren’t completely mental. If not, I’ll be headed to the beach soon, and maybe I’ll get lucky there. Can’t say I’ll be looking to get into the water, though.

...well, I hate to say it but I am feeling physically better than I was prior to reading this statement. Though, I was perhaps remiss in...stalling on responding to this one for so long.

It stuck out to me due to the nature of the...reflection. It tastes similar to whatever has been trying to...consume? Capture? Reflect Tim.

It is a complicated situation, and one I do not yet understand completely. Reflections are...distortions of light, if viewed from a technical standpoint. But they are also imitations, unrealities of their own...there is no shortage of folklore about mirrors and reflections - do not get trapped between them, do not make eye contact with them, do not accept the invitation to step into the looking glass...

Which is to say...I am lost on this. I've come to accept that the powers of the world are...not exactly the same as the ones that I knew of Before, but are no less present. They seem to exist in their own right, though if Michael's door is anything to go by, they are still able to be influenced or at least...visited, by the familiar fears that I Know.

What do I know about the reflections so far... -They appear to feed off of...insecurity, and self doubt. -They can change their appearance (unsurprising) -They are ephemeral in nature, and do not have a fixed Place -They can communicate directly with their victims and targets. -They appear in opposition to predation and blood. I don't know if any of this will be helpful. Martin and Michael are insistent that I stay in the car while they take care of things with Tim. Oh yes, as if that is going to happen. I have more experience than both of them, at least now. That, and the poor pool boy's misfortune was a rather reinvigorating snack. I am feeling much better. Stay in the car, my arse.

[orangez3st]

Dream Currents

Captain Rex × OFC Force Goddess

— Chapter 13: Swim

Tags: teen & up, f/m, gen, hurt/comfort, childhood friends, romantic friendship, fluff, pre-star wars: the clone wars, clone cadets (training in kamino), very rex-centric, rex whump, the worst is probably sw curse words (tell me if I should add more tags!)

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“Somebody come chill my nerves and tell me that’s seawater.”

“What, you sodium deficit?”

“No you di’kut. Just saying that I’m hoping that’s part of Sho’cye. Y’know. Seawater.”

“That… I don’t know what to say. Why?”

“So we don’t drown! Sho’cye won’t let us drown, right?”

“Vod, that’s like, four meters deep.”

“And we’re six feet! Who says we ain’t drowning!?”

“That’s what the training is for, di’kut!”

Six-Seven shakes his head at the interaction, albeit a little amused. So much dependency to the deity. One may say too much to the point of being religiously devout.

The longnecks have been practically scribbling whatever happened down and interviewing around as well, and Six-Seven finds himself in the interrogation chamber every once in a while. Funny only after four years of pulling scientific research and whatever the kriff their endeavors are, they’ve given up and eventually labeled it as unexplainable mass supernatural phenomenon. Which is funny, since they think the clones are non-sentient, thus aren’t capable of experiencing supernatural phenomenon. Which is funny, because suddenly the decommission under the reason of defection wasn’t even presented, and still is. Financial waste much, that, eh?

They’ve studied brainwave patterns, and even went as far as monitored a number of volunteers as they slept despite the argument that this ocean deity dream occurs at random times. Sure, they did the probability math and whatnot, but no dice.

Hilarious.

What makes it even funnier is that Sho’cye was playing along. It’s becoming known that she deliberately avoided manifesting in the volunteers’ heads at that stretch of research period, while at least some forty thousand of their brothers had been dreaming at the same time. The Kaminoans look like they need a hell of a break from unexplainable mass supernatural phenomenon. Even a gracious little porg spread more incriminating gossip that it’s a thing that has to do with some pissed ancient deity their ancestors once worshipped. The command batch calls dibs on that. Six-Seven calls louder.

Combat water survival training involves several of those… water stuff. Now, Six-Seven and the other thirty-five cadets are to execute one of those today where they’ve got to swim about 25 meters across the pool with their kit on while trying to keep their sidearm out of the water. Get it watered and you’re gunned down, because your blaster won’t work after its little swimming recreation in the water. Simple as that. And the plastoid armor provided for battle itself weighs about forty kilograms – an additional forty kilograms to their average seventy-eight kilograms body weight. And they have to reach the edge of the swimming pool in record time – what a blast!

Kitted up, Six-Seven steps onto the ledge, the weight familiar on his skin. He’s got to be used to it, and he has. Though nearly labeled as a forty kilogram nuisance, he should be able to keep it in his head that that forty kilogram nuisance is equipped with life support systems. Black body glove – the others have been affectionately calling it just ‘blacks’ – clings like a second skin underneath the armor, supposedly held against extreme weather and pressurized to give them protection for a temporary stretch of time in the vacuum of space. I mean, it’s thoughtful as it’s beneficial, but seriously; let’s hope we don’t ever get to that scenario.

“Men! On my mark,” bellows the trainer, tapping away in his datapad. Not long after, the countdown begins.

“Three. Two. One.”

Six-Seven is very much aware of his built that’s slimmer than most, even though he’s pretty sure he spends as much working out solely for his muscle mass as the others do. That maybe you’re a defect just-joking talk sometimes starts getting into him, and the blond hair on top of his head ain’t helping – he’s starting to feel hyper-aware. It’s bad. It’s bad – for his mental health and stuff but hey, that’s what the enhanced stress inhibitor thing he’s got in his genetics for, right? He can always laugh along and brush it off so long not let it get into his head!

So, he’s slimmer, thus lighter in weight, and the forty kilogram nuisance isn’t dragging him further deep into the pool unlike the others who took the jump with him. He’s been through the sim a lot of times, just like the others. Six-Seven blinks – and allows his mind to snap into automatic focus.

He kicks his way up, arms flailing in a calculating rhythm to maintain his upper body above water surface, left arm raising the standard DC-15S high above the water. Still dry – good. Palm’s a little clammy from anticipation, but otherwise, all clear. Gaining vision through his HUD where surrounding terrain notifies him with Water – 23.4 meters to nearest dry land in big bold letters, Six-Seven wades forward in a steady breaststroke. As he goes, the weight of the kit drags him down the way it does compared to sans armor. Competitively, the others fall slightly behind – due, or more like thanks, to his accumulated lighter body weight – so he chooses a calmer approach, chasing his own speed without having to violently flail his limbs around and waste energy.

His helmet – this karking bucket. Dragging his upper body down like a damn bucket of pebbles. But this armor, he’s heard, is the good osik. Again; a forty kilogram nuisance with life support systems.

Water – seawater [32 ppt]  – 13.6 meters to nearest dry land.

Oh. It really is part of Sho’cye after all. Look at that salinity level reading. He didn’t know this helmet could do that.

Wizard.

One thing he less favors from this sim is how sore his arm with the blaster is going to be. Though, he relishes the nonstop stroke – a marvelous chance to exercise cardio without being on a treadmill, for one – and enjoys the good sore and exhaustion afterward.

He can’t resist it – the itching, gnawing need to check on the men. It’s not a squad sim, though, but… I’m actually gonna be assigned to that Captain position, right? Doubt chews part of his brain and grants anxiety in its place for that thought alone. With a grunt of dismissal and between raises of his head above the water, as much as his HUD can take, he tries to catch glimpses of the guys who jumped in with him. They’re okay. One or two are a tad behind, but they’re pushing through. All good. He huffs a breath of relief as he swiftly falls back into a steady rhythm of leg-kicking and arm-circling. If only there wouldn’t be a something something chasing us in the water and threatening our supposed retreat…

Water – seawater [32 ppt] – 3.0 meters to nearest dry land.

Great. He’s almost there.

Wonder if Sho’cye actually gains entertainment from this training. Must be a giggle. Everything is new and amusing to her – for a goddess Maker knows how many eons old.

Okay. Steady now.

Water – seawater [32 ppt] – 0.4 meters to nearest dry land.

Six-Seven exhales loudly in his helmet, the last ounce of energy propelling his legs forward for his elbows to finally prop himself up on the edge of the pool, blaster ready, and fires into the moving targets in his section. His own heartbeat thunders in his ears, the exhaustion getting into him as the heart rate monitor on the top left corner of his HUD shows 76 bpm – a strong, steady tempo that holds consistently in all his water training. As soon as all the dummies fall with bull’s eye blaster scorched marks, he shouts an enemy cleared! to mark the end of his part while scrambling onto his feet, the DC-15S still clutched close to his chest and the armor dripping with water.

The others do the same, falling just a couple of seconds behind him. When the timer completely stops as all get onto their feet, helmets are completely off, followed by heavy breathing of cardio exhaustion. Six-Seven allows himself a satisfied chuckle. Damn that always feels good. He’s been taking a little more liking to water. Maybe his time with Sho’cye does something in that regard?

The trainer clears his throat, his voice bellowing through the overhead speakers. “CT-7567. Top marks. Well done.”

“Again!” exclaims a cadet just two sections to his right. “Of course it’s Six-Seven again.”

“I think you’re just jealous, vod,” another pats him on the back, a grin stretched across his face.

What, because he’s slimmer? Lighter in weight? Agile? Capable to move faster and think faster than the others? A CC knockoff? Because he’s to be a Captain?

“Psshh, no,” the former waves off with a laugh, later approaching Six-Seven with an appreciative glint in their mirrored amber brown eyes. “Hey, vod, Sho’cye been giving you a boost to those lanky legs of yours?”

Six-Seven shrugs. “Try to maintain a steady rhythm and focus. That’s literally just it.”

Another walks by him and bumps his helmet into his. “Yeah, but you’re lighter than us. That’s gotta do something.”

Six-Seven merely shakes his head, swallowing his pride and preserving his humility. “Think so, too,” he mutters, joining the others who begin grouping to march away from the spot as another round is about to begin for their other brothers on the other side of the pool. “Good work, vode,” Six-Seven says a bit louder for the whole group to hear and gets tossed grunts of acknowledgment his way.

The one next to him tilts his head. “Eh. Not sure about being 3 seconds behind you as good work, but I’ll take compliments from a soon-to-be captain.”

“Hey now,” Six-Seven laughs.

“Yeah, vod, you’re that good. We’d be proud to see ya captain-ing your way outta this facility and into the battlefield,” someone behind him praises, “Sho’cye gotta bless ya with extras or something.” A few cadets laugh in admiration and jest.

He doesn’t know anything about blessing extras, but stars, even if Sho’cye would gift him a beach pebble she’d randomly pick up from the shoreline, he’d be grateful. And if it’d do something to his favor, he’d better hope it is the blessing extras.

[Content] [Start] [Prev] [Next] [AO3] [Spotify]

Word Count: 1,686

[dxrksong]

Blob ghosts and the Lazarus pits

May be subject to change as I just woke up.

So before I go into the study of Blob ghost's relation to the pits I should probably analyze the pits themselves.

Taking a note from various theories, I'm gonna go ahead and say the pits are natural portals to the GZ. But since these don't close I'm gonna do a step further and say these are the pores of the infinite realms!

Portals that open in the GZ but they close SLOWLY, making it seem like they don't close at all. And while they're closing, excess ectoplasm pools around it, making the pits we know today!

And of course, the longer the pits were exposed to negative emotions and various contaminants, the more dirty and corrupted it became.

The solution? Blob ghosts! The feeder fish of the ghost zone! There are dozens of them in every pit!

Now about the blob ghosts, is that they adore helping people and ghosts alike. Hungry ghosts? Free snack! Sick ghost? *vacuum noises*

So when this random human fell in, looking sickly? Free roomie!

And that's how Ra's al gul found 'immortality'. Although what the blob ghost really did was get rid of whatever was ailing him and replace anything that needed to be replaced.

The more Lazarus pit baths he has? The more parts get replaced by blob ghosts. He'd probably be 80% blob ghosts by the time he realizes this fact.

So what about Jason?

Well if my Intel is correct, TECHNICALLY it wasn't the pits that revived him at first. It was someone more or less punching someone with enough power to essentially revive Jason! (I think it was super boy??? I can't remember??)

But Jason was a zombie at that point. No core, no ghost. Until the dip into the pits where Johnny 13 got yeeted back into his old body.

And a body suddenly gaining a core? At least a year after death? The body would attempt to reject the core! And that's where the blob ghost comes in!

Making an ectoplasmic vein and nervous system, the blob ghost wraps around Jason's core and got comfortable! :)

[ddollfface]

𝐓𝐨 𝐌𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤!𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"Show me your thorns and I'll show you hands ready to bleed." ♡ Aaron O' Hanlon

Trigger Warnings; description of body mutilation, description of murder, mild panic, regret, angst (?), possessive behavior, toxic behavior, irrational behavior, reader is described as 'she' and 'her', reader is afab, bad writing.

If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡

It's 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤!𝐏𝐨𝐞𝐭's first murder! Poor reader doesn't know what's coming... :(((

In and out. In and out. Just keep breathing, that's what he told himself. He could feel the blood rush through his head. The world was going in and out. God, when did it get so hard to think? It was as if he was spun around to tumble and fumble around. Where was he? Why does he feel so warm, but cold at the same time?

His pupils were dilated, zooming in and out, causing a wave of adrenaline to cloud his brain. He could feel everything but nothing at the same time. He could feel his lungs expand and contract, creating a vacuum. It felt as if his heart was being stabbed, the squeeze he felt in his chest every second was like someone clawing at his flesh. Tearing and ripping him apart, from within. It was like he did something wrong, something very, very wrong. What had he done?

Suddenly, it felt as if the elephant in the room was right there, right on his shoulders. That dread he was feeling was looming over him like a disappointed parent. Like a father's warm hand squeezing his son's shoulder, as if he felt bad for what had been done.

That's when he saw it. The blood. It was everywhere. God, fuck. It was everywhere. It was fuckin' everywhere. What had he done?

"Shit. Fuck. Shitting, fucking, hell! What the hell!"

He mumbled, finally realizing where he was. The noises of the city blared in his ears, the drizzle of the rain, the patter of peoples' fancy shoes, the whooshing of cars passing by. This wasn't good, at all.

What had he fuckin' done!? He needed to do something.

"No shit!"

He cursed, looking down at his hands. Blood seeped through the seems, ingraining in the palm of his hands, a flashing reminder of what had occurred. This wasn't good. The adrenaline was dying, his rage was dwindling, and his regret was blaring.

He needed to dispose of it. The man looked over his shoulder, at it. It was sprawled out, arms laying out on his side, and guts spilling out. His eyes were wide. You could see the murder in his eyes, every stab and every hit that thing took. It was all there. A sliver of blood dribbled from the body's lips, which are crisped and chapped. A shiver ran up the man's spine as his gaze wandered down to the body's torsor, if you could call it that...

The pancreas ripped and torn, yellow fluid slipping out, and pooling on the stoned ground. The intestines slithered out, clumped together like a decapitated snake. Blood had painted everything, but the rain washed it out, though barely scratching the surface. There was so much blood that the rain did little to cleanse the sinful scene.

The fat from the body's gut was spilling out. It was tinted yellow and looked like honeycombs from a beehive, but more plastic-like. It could barely contain itself from within the man's body, as if it was desperate to escape the confines of it's mortal body. Of course, it too was covered in that thick, red, goo.

What's the saying? Bloods thicker than water? Yeah, that checks out. It felt as if the blood was choking him, clogging his airways, and making it difficult to think, to breathe, to do anything. The scarlet liquid seemed to entrance the man, causing him to lose thought and reality.

HONK

Shit, what the hell? The man jumped and spun around. Nothing. Just New York traffic, it's fine. He's fine. It's okay. He just has to dump the body. Yeah, that's it. He can do that.

He gets to work, ignoring the gut-wrenching feeling that flooded his system. The feeling practically screamed at him to run away, to not grip the man's side, to not look at the intestines that dragged behind the body as he picked up the man. Or to not look the body dead in the eyes. Don't.

He did. He regrets it. God, it was like the man's eyes were looking through him, at something behind him. This made him nervous, it was like the dead man knew something he didn't. As if he was being pranked like he was the fool.

He's not a fool.

If anything, this man is the dunce. He's the one who touched her, his sweet, sweet angel. He's the one who allowed you to be dirtied, his beautiful muse. He's not the fool, the sick bastard, instead, it's the man who's now dead.

Maybe, if he didn't mess with what's not his, then he'd be alive. Maybe, if he wasn't a fuckin' pig, then he'd live another day but no. He's not. He was gutted like a fish, and it was rightfully deserved.

This man had gotten in his way, in his darling's way. He made you uncomfortable. He inconvenienced you with just a few words, and suddenly you wanted to cry. He wouldn't let you feel that way. He has to preserve you, your natural beauty. He had to kill this man! Honestly, it isn't his fault!

Sweat began to pebble on his forehead, the mental load being too much. He sighed, exasperated from flinging the corpse into the nearest dumpster, surprisingly not catching anyone's attention. Then again, it was late in the night in the busy city of New York. People don't have time to worry about others, even if someone did see him, he doubts they'd care... Well, you would... you'd notice him...

He knows that. God, you're so loving and caring, looking out for others. It didn't matter if you were tired or in a rush, you'd always make time in your day to help someone in need. You're such a sweet angel, his little angel. You just need protection, you need to know that you can't help everyone. You're going to wear yourself out, don't you know? Just let him take care of you. You do too much. You need a break, just relax and let him do everything...

He can make you feel good. He knows he's not the most experienced man, but it's the thought that counts, yeah? He'll show you, all you need is some convincing! He's sure.

I mean, for what is he, a poet, without his muse?

If you or someone you know is in an abusive relationship, then please, please call this number. Relationships, like the one written above, aren't normal and should be left immediately. Please, take care of yourself and your loved ones. 800-799-7233 (National Abuse Hotline)

[charlesandmartine]

Wednesday 1st January 2025

NYD

It's odd making reference to 2025, and yet it seems to have been with us a while now because it has featured so much in our future planning.

We are still reeling from the events of our return journey after the fantastic, exciting, exhilarating celebrations of yesterday evening and just how quickly the transition was made to a potentially threatening environment. Reports are that we shared it with more than a million people. Crowd control must have been ultimately impossible. Lessons will have been learned, but it was a gruelling experience that you endure, not enjoy, but get to do it for as many times that you feel you still can, because for a time, the ends justify the difficulties experienced. The main problem we experienced was from the cordoned off areas surrounding the Circular Quays vicinity, with access along the vertical roadways towards all rail stations, and blocked horizontal roads towards main bus routes located in Wynyard. Manly is not served by any rail network, so we were dependent upon getting to a bus. The road blocks were guarded by security and police, but personnel stationed at each block did not necessarily know what was happening at the other blocks or where the alternative routes were. At one unfortunate and scary point, we reluctantly found ourselves in the forecourt to Wynyard metro station, and because police then shut off our route behind us leading back into George Street, our only possible option was forward in a direction we didn't want to go in. We then found ourselves below street level, deep within the bowels of the station itself, with no available route out and back to above ground. So, our only possibility was to retrace our steps and wait for the police to reopen the entrance to the station again. Therefore we had to work it out for ourselves, and along with thousands of others, milled, pushed, shoved, josseled, shuffled up George Street, desperately trying to work horizontally to York Street, and a possible bus in a homeward direction, amidst blaring music from party revelling. It was chaotic and really quite frightening, not knowing for sure that we could get to our destination, with absolutely no accurate direction and police extremely harassed trying to perform an impossible task in a vacuum that they themselves were ill-informed about, and not appearing to be able to give advice on. Once eventually achieving access to York Street, things clicked into place, and we made it to Wynyard and an awaiting 173x bus to take us home (not free).

As the moments ticked away, sitting by our pool several hours later and enjoying a quiet breakfast, grateful we were home safely, we made plans for Friday's excitement; the first opening day of the final cricket test match between Australia and India. Also, to plan is tomorrow's visit to the Rocks to see Susanah Place.

Danger is ever present in these shores. Things that crawl on the surface of the earth and things that swim in the sea. We went down to the beach to relax a bit, and as observers of human behaviour we can't help perhaps being a little cynical, but it does appear that the life guards have a tendency at around 3 pm to make an announcement that blue bottles have been sighted. This means a lot of people get out of the water, and anxiety levels drop. Now, the real trump card, if this tactic fails, is shark sighted! That one works pretty well. The main shoreline loudspeaker system squawked into action, with shark siron, and yellow shark signs appeared. And so it all worked very well this afternoon, and very fast too it was. Except for one foolish, amateur surfer. There he was, swimming away, on his board, falling off his board, and then pushing his board further out to sea to repeat the whole performance. This attracted the attention of orange and yellow clad life guards who stood and shrieked their whistles at him at a pitch that would dislodge teeth and send small dogs to look for cover. Still, he took no notice, so they brought in the man with the tannoy, and he shouted incoherent commands at him, and still he took no notice. So then they brought backup in the form of two yellow and orange personnel in a yellow and orange small boat, who also yelled at him. The lone swimmer perhaps did notice now the small crowd watching from the promenade. Maybe he saw he was alone out there and assumed he was attracting quite an audience, and clearly, what was pleasing the crowd most must be his prowess as a surfer. What else would explain the appreciation his efforts were giving. So, of course, he couldn't disappoint his public; the show must go on. More whistles, more shouting, but as we turned to go, more surfing and falling off.... We just hope he did not become another statistic.

Our entertainment over, we pursued a course for Coles and the procurement of yet another rubbery chicken.

Perhaps a tiring day, but a good start to a New Year.

ps. We were treated to a fine lone airshow display of loop the loops and general antics. All ended safely.

[such-a-random-rambler]

Happy MiniBang @jbarkerstargazer

I enjoyed scrolling though your blog for art, and a number caught my eye. I settled on this one because I don't think I've seen anything like it before, and loved the feeling of two people sitting side by side sharing a wonder. I couldn't find a reference to who this person was, so kept it vague and I hope it fits who you were drawing.

found in this post, for reference

The 2060’s are a decade of frontiers being brought to the forefront. Whether it’s in the depth of space, the deepness of the ocean, or the most remote mountain peaks, what was once a rare sight can be displayed on every holoprojector in every home in the world. Technological progress has pushed back the edge of exploration so it can be enjoyed by everyone, even if only the bravest – and luckiest – souls are actually leaving their footprints behind. 

There are, however, pockets of experiences left that are known by the very few. Some are not pleasant. Most are life-threatening. One of them John Tracy, and only John Tracy, sees on every trip to and from home: a unique commute even with the bustling traffic into orbit these days. 

Up is John’s favourite direction. Not just because he’s escaping the heavy shackles of unforgiving gravity or because he’s returning to the quiet he needs to focus and save lives. It’s this view.  

On most journey’s John spends the forty five or so minutes it takes for the space elevator to travel from island to station checking over system reports and pre-loading the holograms he needs into the control centre. Sometimes he puts that off, and lets himself enjoy the slow change from atmosphere to vacuum. The colours fade as pressure changes, and the curve of the planet emerges. There’s a precious few minutes when the Earth and the stars are in balance, before the glistening grains of sand painted on inky blackness creep across the whole sky.  

None of the other travelers into space have the time to see the gradual melting from Earth to Heavens, not at the breakneck pace they are catapulted though the atmosphere. This view is one reserved for John, and those special enough he invites to share it.  

“Do you want to see?” he asks her, one lazy afternoon, when the airwaves had been quiet and the pool had been inviting. Lunch in the sunshine had been followed by an afternoon of reading and napping. Now the breeze picks up as the sun begins to set, bringing with it the scent of cool sea and earth to accompany their conversation on the merits of unorthodox space travel. 

She’d been to Five before of course, but by the usual – quick, rocket-shaped – route. 

Her immediate smile is excited at the prospect and touched by the invitation to this most private view.  

He hustles her down to the elevator dock before anyone can interfere, leading her by the hand so fast she has to do a few little jogging steps to keep up. Intense focus on a goal tends to make him forget his long legs in a way she’s come to find endearing.  

The secondary seat is slightly more comfortable than most airplane seats -  even if it spends most of it’s life folded into the wall panels – though nothing in comparison to the bespoke fit of John’s chair, almost as form fitting as his suit. That primary seat shifts aside slightly to make room so they can sit together, the main viewing port on the opposite wall.  

Safety checks completed and harnesses secured, Five lifts them into the evening sky.  

Ever been so focused that no other part of the world can intrude into your bubble? That’s how it is for them this first time: the earth rising below, the atmosphere whispering goodbye and the sky wrapping them in stars. Just the two of them, hand in hand, and a glimpse of infinity. 

That’s how it is the first time, and many times after that.  

[mariacallous]

Olga Romanova says profit motives make Federal Penitentiary Service Russia’s most ‘anti-war’ agency

In an interview for The Insider, literary critic Nikolai Aleksnadrov spoke to Olga Romanova, the director of the civil rights organization Russia Behind Bars, about the past and present of Russia’s prisons. Romanova’s core argument is that private profits drive policy within the Federal Penitentiary Service, shaping attitudes and practices related to prisoner labor, troop recruitment, and trends in persecution and torture. The “merger” between Russia’s state authorities and the criminal world has established a transactional system that determines how prisons are administered. Romanova says this “interpenetration” ensures shared interests in how rights and privileges are extended (and denied) to inmates, particularly when it comes to forced labor and protections against abuse.

Thanks to these administrative linkages between officials and criminals, Russia’s shifting geopolitics reverberate in the prison system and trigger purges of the latest “public enemies” from inside the “crime committees” that share power at penitentiaries. Romanova says this happened to Georgian “thieves in law” after Russia’s brief war in 2008. She claims that radical Islamists seized the vacuum left by ousted Georgian criminal bosses. Romanova also argues that an ongoing campaign by prison officials against all Muslim inmates escalated further in the aftermath of the Moscow concert hall terrorist attack in March 2024.

According to Romanova, the Federal Penitentiary Service’s reliance on kickbacks and the embezzlement of profits derived from forced labor has — somewhat counterintuitively — made the agency the most anti-war in the federal government. The reason for this attitude is that the war has diluted prisons’ labor pool and diverted funding that might otherwise have maintained or even improved the industrial infrastructure at prison facilities. In other words, the recruitment of prisoners and redirected federal spending have reduced the income of corrupt prison officials (and cut earnings for all the other bureaucrats who collect their own rents in this chain). 

[koukouture]

Bullshitting Babylonia politics bc why not

Aka I’m trying to lay out a foundation for a fanfic I really want to write and also for reference for any other fics I might write.

Also this is grossly oversimplified and not based in any one voting system, I just cannot and will not go that deep making my parliament structure is far enough thank you and all my friends already think I’m fucking insane for being so invested in Babylonia politics.

There are four courts, four banners, and one more that represents Gestalt. The courts are: the Justice division (judicial branch) Control court, the Military Command bureau, and the Legislative court. No I will not explain their inner workings such as cabinet or whatever but all you need to know is that the president will come from one of those courts. Once they are elected, they will technically become a part of that iffy fifth court, the one representing Gestalt. (Parliament clearly doesn’t work in parties in the story)

Justice division: literally just the judicial branch I have no notes, they’re canon tho unless I fucked up the name.

Legislative court: just the legislative branch what more do you want

Control Court: I’m not actually sure what control court does but they’re canon (Hilda is a part of it) I have a theory that they’re some sort of enforcement which wouldn’t be far fetched considering Babylonia is technically a democratic military state.

Military command bureau: commanders, generals, etc, they plan out operations and make rules within the military. Very important for a population that is perpetually in wartime with the Punishing virus.

How the voting system works: within the four courts anyone is technically viable, but when time for election comes, Gestalt chooses a small pool of members from each court. From that pool the general public will vote on them. You get the idea, once ballots are counted the one with the highest number of votes wins. No parties and seats, as the president will technically not belong to a party anymore.

Idk if there’s like a limit or if there were even any presidents before Hassen but that’s not important Lmao. I believe that there might have been some sort of power vacuum after Dominik disappeared and that’s when Hassen rose to power but idk and i don’t care that is not relevant unless I actually write that fic

[beardedmrbean]

Wait wasn’t it the boomers that preach to us this “We need to save the world!” shit? I mean would could have better eco system if wasn’t for say

1. The US, USSR/China piss competition that was the Cold War

2. SEVERAL countries being fucked over thanks to the push of communism/US meddling/ etc and many of those countries are still recovering from it.

3. I mean in the west developed countries, people have fucking meltdowns over a Japan McDonald’s wholesome family tweet. So our family unit need some fixing

4. Manufactured nihilism, so a lot of people don’t give about themselves much less the environment.

5. Have corporations that being run by medically confirmed sociopaths.

I can say more, but Greta sweetie, I know you want to do good, but blaming the older generation thinking many were hellbent on destroying the earth isn’t so simple. Many do/did want to save the world, but we have to deal with the fallout of ww2, communist dumbasses, and so much more with humanity itself before we can do the ideal environmentalism.

Was confused for a moment till I remembered I'd scheduled that one, was gonna run it yesterday but I had to get around the subscription wall which is more complicated than a paywall.

In the end just archiving it works but the links in the article don't work if you do that, which is what I had to do.

It's not even the stuff you're mentioning up there either. I had a 1966 Plymouth Fury III there was this weird green plastic thing with a device inside it and a couple vacuum hoses attached to it, one in one out.

Primitive Smog control device, if you never worked on older cars that were manufactured for sale in California you'll never see one, but every vehicle sold in CA had a smog control device for the longest time, all changed when the auto industry realized it was cheaper to just do the same thing to every car, it's something that's been going on since before I was even born though, so current generation isn't the first to care or take action.

Been lots of missteps along the way, the shift from paper bags to plastic ones at grocery stores is a big one, people thought it would save the trees and it didn't do much there and now we've got a totally different problem.

Hole in the ozone layer on the other hand, we got that issue taken care of and it's on the mend, has been since long before gretta was born too.

National parks predate my grandparents, thanks Teddy, leaving large swaths of land alone for the purpose of conservation.

My grandparents when they got their pool installed in the early 80's had a big fat solar water heater installed so it could heat the water for that as well as the water for the house, weren't super common but they existed and were in use by people who wanted to both be nice to the earth and lower their gas bill at the same time.

Nearly all of the solutions being discussed by the young climate weekend warriors involve technology developed for the purpose they want it used for before they were born.

I'm just dandy with people wanting to save the earth, I've been trying to do my part for decades now, which I would appreciate it if gretta and co would acknowledge instead of acting like they're the first people ever to give a damn.

Several centuries of damage all culminating at the peak of the industrial revolution that we need to undo, that takes time and being a snobby, whiny, self important, twit who bashes everyone who came before her, who's shoulders she's standing on, doesn't do anything real.

And quite possibly does more harm than good.

Not going to totally blame her though, she did start out as a pawn on someone else's game and to some extent she still is.

[deadeyepools]

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