#riverton half

[mando-abs]

Do y’all want to see something that got past Disney’s censors (particularly Disney+’s censors)???? Honestly I’m surprised I’m just now finding this out. Just stick with me here, I promise it’s worth it. Go down to the second picture to read the actual scandal. The rest before it is otherwise fun facts

Okay so y’all might be aware that my first ever love was Inspector Gadget and the 90’s tie-in movie. Well, in a montage, they show a bunch of newspapers and magazines showing Gadget’s rise in popularity. But in the first newspaper, it’s full of references.

I’ve highlighted the important bits but I’ll write them down here too:

- “for trouble with a capital T, and that rhymes with C, and that letter’s in “school.” This is a reference to the song “Ya Got Trouble” from the musical The Music Man. Disney made their own version of the musical starring Matthew Broderick a few years after his stint in this movie. (And in my opinion, is the better movie version of the musical, but please still see it live, it’s not THAT good). Interesting they already had him in mind like 4 years before…

- “With apologies to Meredith Wilson, whose most famous musical is now in rehearsal…” Right below the first Easter egg is the half of the name of the writer and composer for The Music Man. Very sweet

- “the entire mood of both the students and faculty at Riverton Elementary has changed significantly since the days of Hall Monitor Bob, whose alcoholic antics amused many” this isn’t a reference but wtf lol😂😂😂

- “his studly sensitivity and charming clumsiness have the campus Heathers sighing and heaving their tight blouses” This is a reference to the movie “Heathers”

- “Not since Ferris Bueller himself has there been such school-wide kudos.” Broderick’s most memorable character from the 80’s

OKAY but the REAL Easter egg here is the cursing that got past their censors. I blew the picture up and highlighted it

the first letter of each row in this column spells out “fuck Disney” And yes, I checked for you and you could potentially see for yourself on Disney+ as of the date I posted this, May 20th 2024

Well played Disney employee youre my hero

[thekimspoblog]

This blog is mostly to demand a sequel series for Kim Wexler. I already have a treatment plan mapped out and have been trying to write an actual script.

See the pinned post on my page. Mostly I am making the controversial move of continuing Kim down a path of villainy. She tries to keep her head as the world devolves into chaos, but some people are just fated for violence. This season is going to focus more on themes of religion/mass media, feminism, and political radicalization.

New characters:

Caleb Dawson: Originally worked in Hollywood, now operates a megachurch in Riverton, Wyoming. Has no qualms with eliminating his competition.

Mary and Peter: A codependent brother and sister duo who Dawson uses to carry out his agenda.

Moe: Jimmy's cell mate. He doesn't quite fill Huell's shoes, but he tries.

Iris: Jimmy and Kim's child. Strong enough to endure the coming wars and droughts.

I have the first half of Episode 1 written but I hit a writer's block. Been looking for other fanfic writers to help me.

Yeah my whole deal IRL is that I want to be a mom, but first I have to overthrow the government just so my daughter can grow up free. And this is the path Kim is on, even if she doesn't realize it yet.

Before Season 6 aired, I was dead-set on the prediction that a pregnancy scare was going to send Kim spiraling into an existential crisis (and even wrote a pretty long fanfic about it). Obviously that didn't happen, but I like my canon better anyway, so I'm still assuming this part of her character arc happened offscreen. Anyway she decides to go back and confront that old nightmare, even if this is her last possible chance to do so.

[rclldamage]

Riverton Salvatore mood board aesthetic. Half-Elf. Bard. Nomad. Cottagecore whore.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"SHOT TO DEATH BEFORE CROWD," Kingston Whig-Standard. May 30, 1933. Page 10. ---- Former Montreal Convict Is Executed in N.Y. East Side ---- NEW YORK, May 30 - Joe Tropp, who served a prison term in Montreal two decades ago, and known more recently as "receiver" for the Whittemore gang of jewel thieves, was brazenly shot to death by four men on New York's East Side last night in the midst of a crowd of several hundred bystanders.

The victim was dumped unconscious into a street gutter of Allen Street, near Riverton Street, from a green sedan. The four occupants got out, with deliberation fired half a dozen bullets into his head and body. re-entered the automobile, and sped away.

Detectives Otto Ransberg and Martin Meyers, early on the scene, recognized Tropp, and said he served prison term in Montreal for a diamond switching swindle in 1916. Their identification was confirmed by papers in the dead man's clothing.

Beaten Unconscious Tropp had been beaten unconscious before he was tossed into the gutter. His eyes were blackened and his face bruised.

An excited crowd of several thousand gathered quickly, and a police emergency squad was called out to keep them in check.

Troop apparently had been robbed. No money was found in his pockets. Police said he was accustomed to carry a large amount of cash, for he traded in jewelry on New York streets. in addition to maintaining a stall on a narrow Bowery street.

Immediately after the fusillade barked death to the 220-pounder, fashionably dressed jewel-trader, police cars were summoned to the scene from all directions. They were too late, however, to pick up the trail of the green sedan and its killers.

[runnersnz]

"I got pretty fit while farming. It was quite a big farm, 1800 acres, so that's big enough. I also played rugby from primary school until I was about 28, I think. I played at high school, local clubs, and I played at Lincoln. I was quite quick over a 100 metre sprint at Lincoln, only one back could beat me. And then when I came back home to Fiordland I carried on playing rugby.

The Kepler Challenge didn't exist as a race at the time, but there was some conversation about it, and it was going to happen. So once we knew when, three months out, we basically ran around the farm to train. I did the Riverton Half Marathon as preparation too. I think that took me a bit over three hours. Then on the day of the first Kepler they almost didn't have the Kepler, because there was quite a bit of snow on the top. The ones that run it today wouldn't recognise it - there was a bit of a track up there but no stairs, so where the overhang is at Hanging Valley, you're actually down on hands and knees crawling through there. There was a track up top to the Luxmore Hut and then you just follow the poles the best you can. The downhill into Iris Burn was hard on your legs. You just had to aim at something out the corner, hit that and stop, and turn and go down the other way. So Ken Pierce and I, we stuck together and we walked pretty much most of it from there on. And none of this electrolytes or anything like that. Our sustenance was warm water and Moro Bars. The lakes had been high that year too so the boardwalk along the lake was all buckled and twisted and you couldn't use it. And that joker, Russel Prince, he won the first Kepler in I think about five hours. He actually finished and then came back to Rainbow Reach, which is 10k's before the end of the race. And I don't know how many people he convinced to do the last 10k's, but a lot of people wouldn't have finished if he hadn’t been there. It was bloody good.

I've still got my finishers t-shirt and some photos from that race. I'll dig them out.

I played a friendly rugby game the year after and I did a knee and ankle injury at the same time - so I did a good job - and I never got back to the Kepler. 

I still did a lot of work farming and I did a little bit of local team triathlon - where I did the running and somebody else kayaked and somebody biked. I've done quite a few Surf to City’s in Invercargill when we lived there. That's where Derek Turnbull was doing his thing, and he'd bounce ahead with his stick half a kilometre or so and then he'd come back and encourage some people. That was good.

And then I finished farming and I spent 20 years in IT just sitting at desks, so you sort of have to do something, and that was what it was all about then.

Now I walk this track here. It’s a cycle trail and it’s quite a nice walk, about 3kms from home and around. And then Avis started volunteering at parkrun recently, so that’s been fun and interesting to come along and run too. 

I’ll keep running - as much as I can."

Robin Peters (Fiordland) – Portraits of Runners + their stories @RunnersNZ

[landscapedesignfirm]

What You Need to Know About Japanese Beetles

As part of our ongoing series on invasive insects, this article focuses on Japanese beetles, a significant concern for homeowners and gardeners due to their destructive impact on over 300 species of ornamental plants. This article will discuss the characteristics, life cycle, and damage caused by Japanese beetles in Pennsylvania. We will also explore various control methods and offer tips for preventing infestations.

How Japanese Beetles Came to Pennsylvania

Japanese beetles (Popillia japonica) are invasive insects native to Japan, as the name implies. The Japanese beetle was introduced into the U.S. in 1916 near Riverton, New Jersey, and likely arrived in the United States on ornamental nursery stock. The pest soon spread throughout the eastern United States, being detected on the west coast as early as the 1940s. Since then, the pest has spread throughout much of North America, affecting most states and Canada.

Japanese Beetle Appearance

Adult Japanese beetles are about one-half of an inch long with a shiny metallic green body and copper-colored wing covers, and their neck, head, and legs are reddish-brown. The adult beetles also have two patches of white hairs at the tip of their abdomen and five tufts of white hairs on both sides of their abdomen. In addition, adult beetles often have orange wing tips, which show when they are flying to escape predators or when disturbed. The larvae, or grubs, are creamy-white with brown heads and three pairs of legs on the thorax region (where the wings and legs attach to the main body).

Beetle Life Cycle

The beetle’s life cycle is completed in approximately one year in Pennsylvania. Female beetles lay eggs in the soil under host plants in late June through mid-August. Then, the beetle larvae will hatch after two weeks and feed on grass roots until winter. Japanese beetles spend the winter buried in the ground, moving towards the surface as the spring season approaches and the weather gets warm. During this time, the larvae will continue to feed on grass roots until they mature, usually from late May through June.

From late June to July (around June 20 in the southern areas of Pennsylvania), the larvae will have matured into adult beetles and emerge from the ground. While Japanese beetles begin emerging from the soil around late June, the pests are most abundant during July. When mating, female beetles lay around 40-60 eggs in the soil, where the life cycle repeats.

As mentioned previously, the beetles feed on more than 300 species of host plants, from ornamental plants to even fruit and crops. The larvae only feed on grass roots, while the adult beetles feed on a much more extensive range of plants. Some common ornamental plants the pest feeds on include roses, flowering cherries, marigolds, and birch—adult beetles damage plants by “skeletonizing” the foliage. “Skeletonizing” means that the beetles consume only the leaf material between the veins. As a result, these leaves may turn brown and eventually fall off.

Adults feed during the day and tend to favor hot weather and plants growing with total exposure to the sun. The larvae, meanwhile, damage lawns by chewing grass roots, causing the turf to brown and die. The result is that the turf pulls up easily from the soil, or dead patches of grass form if the problem is severe.

Japanese Beetle Treatment & Management

Our plant health care specialists have a specific treatment program for managing the beetles and protecting your plants. For example, one pest management treatment method for Japanese beetle populations in a landscape is pesticide application.

Methods for controlling and eliminating Japanese beetles include:

Biological approaches: Introducing natural predators, such as parasitic wasps or flies, can help control beetle populations.

Chemical approaches: Pesticide applications by plant health care specialists can manage beetle infestations and protect plants.

Cultural approaches: Removing rotting tree fruit and maintaining a healthy lawn can help prevent beetle infestations.

Traps are also available, but the trapping method is used more as a monitoring tool to measure the extent of pest presence of the pest. Traps use floral lures or female pheromones to attract beetles, so the traps could attract more beetles to your landscape. Like the pesticides, these traps should be handled by a professional plant health care specialist to ensure that they are used correctly.

Contact Burkholder PHC for Japanese Beetle Treatment in Your Landscape

Japanese beetles can be a significant issue for homeowners, as the beetles negatively affect the appearance and health of their plants and lawn. If you have plants that show signs of the pest’s activity or want to keep your landscape safe from them, reach out to Burkholder PHC. Our team will conduct a plant health care evaluation and diagnosis of your landscape and inform you of your treatment options. We provide no-cost identification of the situation in addition to free testing, diagnostics, inspections, and evaluations. Contact us today for a free consultation.

Blog is originally published at: https://www.burkholderphc.com/what-you-need-to-know-about-japanese-beetles/

It is republished with the permission from the author.

[nopeferatu]

*slams table* anotha one

Each time a minute passes, the clock rolls over with a shuffling noise that has him wondering how he ever slept with that racket going on. He waits tensely for the row to roll over and then it’s midnight, the next day, it was now four years, one month, one week and one day, one day more than the yaw of time that stretched between Jack’s truck vanishing down the highway out of Signal and pulling up behind the Laundromat in Riverton, fourteen hundred and ninety-nine days later, now fifteen hundred days. Another minute and then the irrational thought, he can’t let me go this long, he has to show up, has to. The sun sets and his bed is empty, the moon rises and he is again at his side, dawn comes and he fades, each day takes him a little further away, blurs the image, no dread like the one of forgetting, none more terrible than that, the precise spacing of the cluster of moles by his right ear, the exact location of the patch where his hair grew crosscurrent. In a few hours he will begin the day just like yesterday, tomorrow, again. Come on, Jack, you’ve made your point, damn you. Hardly knowing what he’s doing, he dresses, goes out and starts the truck and points it south, drives and drives, where he doesn’t know, but of course he does, pulls into the service station four hours later. It’s still there, closed up for the night. He sits in the truck and stares across the highway as if staring could light the façade. The Siesta closed years ago but he could hop the fence, pry the boards off, others have, and that’s what makes him hesitate, the thought of broken bottles and graffiti left behind by vagrants and teenagers in that room. It wouldn’t have been the same anyway, there’d been a half-hearted remodeling attempt, white trellises and plastic ferns and the like, they’d passed it, him and Jack, on their way to the Gros Ventres, it had been summer and early days, the last trip less than three months earlier and the glow was still on them. Jack had paused, taken his foot off the gas and looked smiling at him, run a hand lightly up his thigh, gone mmmmm and he’d covered Jack’s hand with his but there was no thought of going back. Their time together then had no parenthesis, no period. They never went back. More practically, it would have been too close to home and Alma. Someone might have remembered the truck with Texas plates and passed a remark.

No need for caution now. Nothing for anyone to whisper about. His conscience was clear as air.

GOD. I knew Widower was gonna be everything I wanted in a fic and more, but I DIDNT REALIZE HOW MANY OF MY BOXES IT WOULD TICK 😭😭😭 WHAT THE FUCK!!! WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK

[phatjosh180]

RACE #144: Riverton Half Marathon

RACE #144: Riverton Half Marathon

Six years ago when I made the goal to run 180 races (half marathon or longer) before I turned 40, I had no idea that y age 36 I’d be nearly done with that goal. And, that really speaks volumes of how much running has changed and influenced my life these past half dozen years.

Up until about two years ago I had the IDEA of slowing down a bit and evening out the number of races so I could hit my…

[asettledsky]

Okay, some backstory musings for Inspector Gadget (1999).

Making this up from whole cloth because I feel like it. Also totally ignoring Matthew Broderick's actual age when he played the role.

John Brown was born and raised in rural Kansas, the younger of two boys. A late in life baby of his parents and like 10 years younger than his older brother (Penny's father).

I'm going to say his parents were old fashioned kind of religious and named their kids Matthew and John.

John absolutely idolized his big brother. Matthew was super smart and when John was 8 he went off to some law school in Ohio and became a public defender by the time he was 22. He married his college sweetheart and they were moved into their first house and had Penny really quickly.

John, just going into highschool, LOVED spending his summers in the comparatively big city with his brother and gladly babysat his niece in return.

Given that the age gap between him and Penny wasn’t much bigger than the one between him and Matthew he considered himself her defacto big brother. They were immediate best friends and Penny threw the biggest fits when John went back home every fall.

John, being not very smart but a hard worker, only got mediocre grades in highschool and had no clue what he wanted to do with his life. So instead of going to college right away he took a gap year (or two) and lived with his brother in Riverton.

He took a few part time jobs to save up money and was a little directionless. Confessed to his brother that he just wanted to help people, like he did. He knew he wasn't smart enough to be a lawyer or anything, but there had to be a lot of ways to help people in need that didn't require a degree right?

John went back to Kansas when he was 20 because his dad, who was in his 60s now, was in pretty poor health and he wanted to be there for his mother.

He enrolled in a local community college, but it didn't really work out well. A year later his father passed away and he dropped out and got a job at the local supermarket because his mother got conned into taking out a mortgage on the house to pay for her husband's medical debt and funeral costs.

His brother did not come back for the funeral. He would have but Penny, age 7, had chicken pox.

Penny comes visit Kansas during the summer during the following years.

Three years go by and John's mother passes in the middle of winter.

After a lot of discussion it's decided between Matthew and his wife that they won't take Penny with them to the funeral. She's only 10 and while she knows what death is they're overprotective.

Penny is upset because her grandmother is dead and they're leaving her alone with a sitter for a week, but they tell her that when they come back they'll have Uncle John with them and he'll be able to stay this time. This cheers her up considerably.

Their plane crashes in an ice storm on the way there.

This leaves everything in disarray. John ends up having to abandon everything in Kansas and let the house foreclose instead of trying to sell it like he planned. He rushes to Riverton instead.

He's Penny's godfather and his brother's next of kin, so at 24 he inherits the house there and Penny's guardianship.

It takes him a bit to get his feet under him. Within a year he lands the job as Security guard at Bradford Industries.

Which brings us to present day. He's been a security guard for about three years, has realized he'd love to be a cop one day but can't afford to go to the police academy because he owns a house he can barely afford on his salary and trying very hard to raise his niece, who is exactly half his age as of 1999. He's also totally smitten with his employer's daughter and has only just gotten to the point where he can kinda sorta talk to her.

And then he gets blown up by Scolex.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

24 Oct. Suptober: Movie Character Mischief

Halloweens came and went; prank revenge was forever.

au somewhere in the s11-12 era (no possessions or Amara): deancas

Note: There is a fake film mentioned in here that spoils a basic plot point of the real movie, Last Christmas (which I have not seen because life is so short). So heads up on that. :)

Waking up in a bed devoid of linens -- no sheets, pillowcases, blankets or mattress cover -- was the last straw. At this point, Dean declared total war.

Yes, he'd hidden Sam's toothbrush behind the toilet. And Sam had hidden Dean's favorite robe, the soft gray one, in a box that required a recitation of fives lines of Latin plus a splash of fresh sheep urine before it could be unlocked.

Yes, Dean had accidentally-in-scare-quotes dropped gum into Sam's hair, requiring an impromptu trim. And Sam had replaced the movie night DVD Dean thought was cued up; instead of the cold open pipe organ chords of the cult classic Cathedral of 10,000 Cadavers, the bunker TV started spewing Last Thanksgiving, the single stupidest film ever made about a woman causing turkey-related botulism at a family gathering while falling in love with her organ donor ghost.

(Did Dean watch it -- cough, again, cough -- anyway, because Cas vaguely indicated he wouldn't mind seeing it? Yes. It was very gratifying that Cas wound up hating it.)

And yes, yes, all right, Dean had texted a select few friends and well-wishers a recent photograph he'd taken of Sam snoring, three pieces of crispy bacon resting peacefully on his slack-jawed face. Sam had mailed every cassette tape Dean owned to Jody -- who was a dirty conspirator Dean would be dealing with separately one day, once he figured out how to do that in manner that wouldn't end up with her just straight up killing him -- and the one tape Sam did leave in Baby was Lawrence Welk and Myron Floren Present Polka Favorites, which was way more lit than it had any right to be.

How had Sam removed all of Dean's soft, clean, 600-thread or better bedclothes when Dean was sleeping on said bed? Who cares. The relevant fact was, Sam needed to be punished. The nuclear option was the only choice left. Dean spent the whole day driving from nearby little town to nearby little town, and the new purchases strewn out along his bare mattress proved the depth of his commitment.

He glanced at the clock on his bedroom wall. He, Sam, Eileen, and Cas were due at a hunters' Halloween costume party in three hours in Hastings. 

Plenty of time, then, for Dean to transform himself with pigtail wig, floppy shoes, oversized striped jumpsuit, four strategically placed wads of cotton balls, white gloves, pingpong nose, ten colors of grease paint, and one pair of yellow plastic fangs smeared with red lipstick into the most grotesque homage to Honky the Clown (of Honky the Clown Slays Again! infamy) the world had ever beheld.

Was Dean looking forward to chasing his baby brother through the bunker and wielding Honky's signature weapon, a pickaxe stained with the blood of orphans (or in this case, ketchup)? Yes, yes he was. 

Halloweens came and went; prank revenge was forever.

"Dean?" his treacherous lil snake of a bro called from the library. "Can you come out here for a sec?"

"I don't know what you did with my shit," Dean was saying, as he rounded the corner into the library. "I don't care what either, um. Wha. What?" He skidded to a halt in every way, using his one working brain cell to put a question mark on the end of the last syllable he was able to utter.

"Hey, so, Eileen needs to be picked in Riverton," Sam said, "so we'll need to skedaddle out of here maybe half an hour earlier than planned." Leaning against a pillar, he was dressed like a priest and his demeanor was Bored plus a dash of pure unmitigated evil.

Somewhere amidst Dean's fraying sanity, he took the opportunity to be petty about the lack of creativity that had gone into the priest costume. They already owned those freakin' cassocks, for pity's sake.

What Sam was wearing wasn't important. 

Dean tried to rally his strength. He looked at the other person in the room, who was just standing there in front of a bookshelf. 

Dean kept looking even as his mind unraveled further. "Cas," he finally said.

"Hello, Dean." Cas tipped his cowboy hat in his direction.

Sam coughed. 

Cas startled slightly and said, "Oh. I meant to say, Howdy, partner."

"Uh hmm," Dean said in as strangled a voice as possible.

Here was the thing. 

Dean could under extremely rare and specific circumstances -- say, during dreams or violent kidnappings (his own) -- admit, somewhere in the vicinity of out loud, that his old friend Cas was not difficult to, you know, perceive. Great arms, not that Dean had ever noticed because why would he. Cas was usually wearing at least as many layers as Dean himself was. Columbo and Constantine could have a fight to the death over Cas's wardrobe. 

Cas himself? Cas was just some guy. Shy! Nerdy. 

...Devastatingly handsome, Dean had once told someone in public. All right. Sure. Was Dean lying? No. Had Dean otherwise been the soul-- Nay, the master of discretion with regards to discussions of the physical attributes, pleasing or otherwise, of his best friend whomst he loved as, as, family, and certainly not in any other way?

Also no.

(Also no. Oh no.)

A dangerous smile was playing at the corner of Sam's mouth.

Cas shifted his weight, maybe 'cause he wasn't used to wearing cowboy boots. Nice ones, plain and sturdy, like a person'd wear to rope calves or bale hay. The blue of his long-sleeved shirt matched his eyes, made 'em seem more like a clear sky from 'neath the brim of a fine Stetson, and there were white patches on the shirt shoulders embroidered with little cacti. The shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, and around the collar Cas had chosen to wear a bolo silver medallion embossed with a bull head. 

Cowboy chic, Dean's brain dialed in for a moment to comment. 

Then there were the jeans. He'd seen Cas wear jeans before? Yes? This pair fit like Cas'd been sewn into them. Belt had a nice heavy buckle, and this...oh, this was where Dean started to stutter, silently, like a man having a stroke, because the belt -- obviously -- encircled Cas's waist. Cas had a waist. Hips. Hips. That one hip cocked just the smallest amount, to account for the way he stood.  

Eat your heart out, Urban Cowboy.

The smile Sam smiled matched his steady, lethal eyes.

KO, Dean thought. I have been murdered by my own brother. How dare.

Also, I have been standing here ogling my best friend for seven years.

"Dean?" Cas ventured, sounding, indeed, just the slightest bit shy. But his expression was open, bright, like, like…

Like he liked the way Dean was drinkin' him in like Cas was a cold canteen of water a man'd drink with the sun beating down on him and the trail hot 'n' dusty.

"Y'know, I think I might skip the party," Dean said, looking at Sam. He schooled his expression into one he hoped was not too humiliating, for all he was begging for a truce. "Feeling a little tired. Ran around all day, you know how it goes."

"Of course," Sam said, a portrait of generosity. "No problem. The gang'll miss you."

"Oh. If you're not going to the party, Dean -- Sam, do you mind if I stay home? I have no real investment in Halloween." Cas looked genuinely apologetic. "I appreciate the costume advice, though."

"Yeah, Halloween's not my favorite either." Sam narrowed his eyes at Dean. 

Dean narrowed his back. Then let it go.

Sam backed down. A kinder, much more genuine smile lit up his face. "Eileen likes the holiday for dressing up. We'll say hi to everyone for you." He patted Dean on the shoulder as he wafted by in ministerial serenity. "Have a nice quiet evening on the lonesome prairie, y'all."

"Well," Dean said to Cas when Sam was out of range. "Guess I'll fix some dinner later. Maybe tacos."

"I'll help you," Cas said, because he was generous like that even though he never ate more than one or two bites.

He was generous about a lot of things. Dean tried to breathe through a wave of longing for him, well aware the feeling was neither new nor temporary.  

"Do you happen to know why someone left a big stack of linens on my bed?" Cas asked. "I think I recognize your comforter in there."

Dean sighed. "It was a strategic maneuver." 

"Oh."

"Sam's."

"Okay."

"I lost," Dean said.

"So I gathered," Cas said. He smiled after saying it, then looked thoughtful again. "What was your costume going to be?"

"Homicidal clown."

"Was that going to require a change of clothes?"

"Hey," Dean said, scandalized and elated.

"Hmm." Cas shifted his eyes to Dean mischievously, and Dean was reminded of the sheer immensity of Cas, cowboy-sized currently or not.

They looked at each other for a while longer.

Eventually, willing his voice not to break like he was twelve, Dean said, "Gonna go deal with my linens and stuff."

Cas nodded. "I can help with that too." 

They went down the hall side by side.

Dinner never was managed, but thankfully, the prairie, subsequently to be known as Dean's bedroom, proved to be anything but lonesome.

[foolondahill17]

Top 10 SPN fanfic favs of 2021:

My top 10 2021 SPN fanfic recs (all but honorable mention updated/finished in 2021). Not pairing specific, but weighted toward Destiel. 

Pater by TaraxacumWine

Summary: Dean hasn't seen his father in ten years. And now, he and his partner Castiel have been invited to spend Christmas with John and his new family.

The invitation stirs up feelings and memories for both Castiel and Dean, of the good times, and the bad. A lot can change in ten years - and a lot can stay the same.

How did we end up here?

Commentary: Established Destiel. WIP. It’s been stuck at 9/10 chapters for the past six months, so I don’t know if it will ever be finished, but this is one of the most captivating “normal people” AUs I’ve ever read. Perfectly encapsulates our beloved SPN characters and their many traumas in a world without monsters.  

the remembered earth by a_good_soldier

Summary: 25 years later, Dean returns to Riverton, Wyoming.

Commentary: this is about a lot of things – personal and generational trauma among them. Sometimes all we can do is just bear witness. Startling and lovely and painful. Established Destiel, but that isn’t the focus. 

 if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee

Summary: After the Empty, Cas has to spend some time alone. Orpheus tries to convince Eurydice over the phone that it’s okay to turn around now.

Commentary: For once it’s Cas that leaves Dean waiting, instead of the other way around. Gutting angst and a beautiful ending. Destiel finale fix-it.

 Half Empty by sinnabonka

Summary: Raging storm, boundless cornfield surging, churning, like an angry ocean crashing its waves over steep shores. Dean comes to in the passenger seat of his car with no memory of what could have possibly brought him to the oddly named bar on the outskirts of the small town in the middle of nowhere.

Investigating what first looks like a regular, run-of-the-mill missing people case and trying to bring back memories he’s lost, Dean ends up discovering truth he’d rather remain hidden.

Welcome to Half Empty, where nothing is as it seems, and even shadows have secrets of their own.

Commentary: a painful and beautiful exploration of grief. Atmospheric and eerie. Technically Destiel but it takes a while to get there. 

 Strandlines by aeli_kindara

Summary: It’s September 18, 2008. Castiel is being deployed to rescue Dean Winchester from Hell.

He lands in Dean Winchester’s motel room in 2003. Things go from there.

Commentary: 2021 seemed like the year for Destiel time-travel fics, but Strandlines was my favorite, with heartfelt metaphor and a very clever canon-bending plot. 

 Plain Language by thalius

Summary: Charlie sets her beer down hard on the counter, making him flinch. “Are you trying to invent a problem?” she asks incredulously.

“What? No, dude, I’m telling you—”

“Your boyfriend turned down sex twice, once because you were concussed and your arm was broken, and once because he was about to drive out of state to help your brother,” Charlie summarises, brutal and unrelenting. “And you think that, what? You can never ask him for sex again because of that?”

Dean’s been playing catch-up his entire life, and he’s still figuring out the whole “asking for what I want” thing.

Commentary: Angst? Whump? Schmoop? Charlie??? What more can my little Destiel-heart crave?

 the cheapest room in the house by biggaybenny

Summary: what if instead of a very sincere and earnest love confession dean just found out cas was gay? no confession, no god-jack endgame. just post-s15 stupidity. just dean being deranged.

the dean downloads grindr for cas fic

Commentary: WIP (7/8 chapters, fairly consistent updates). It seems like this is THEE Destiel fic nowadays, and for good reason. Not only a beautiful exploration of a complicated relationship, but also a gut-wrenching depiction of Dean’s internal monologue and a haunting narrative about learning to let yourself love.

 Like They All Do by kalliel

Summary: When that cult thing down in Arizona goes bad, it goes real bad. What Dean wants now, showing up at Swayze's bar like a body from a grave--well. That's anyone's guess.

15x07 "Last Call" tag

Commentary: No pairing one-shot. Wait 'til you get to the end, kids, it's a line worth the read.

 Pillow Talk by HaganeNoMorals

Summary: Crowley gets personal. Just a quiet evening vignette from the infamous summer of love.

Commentary: Just some short and (bitter)sweet Deanmon Drowley angst in which Dean is even more of a dick than Crowley is.

 Mary Winchester, Working On It by alittleduck (amidsizedfrog), amidsizedfrog

Summary: "I thought, I dunno, that you might be,” Dean paused.

“A lesbian?” Sam suggested at the same time Mary said, “a sodomite?”

“Actually,” Jack piped up into the complete silence that followed Mary’s words, “sodomy refers to both oral and anal sex. Even though it’s used as an outdated term for homosexuality, it doesn’t actually mean homosexual. I learned that from Google,” he told them all proudly.

“Very good, son,” Cas said in a dazed voice.

Or, Dean comes out to Mary. But not without a few major misunderstandings along the way.

Commentary: Very funny and charming one-shot. We all deserve some laughs after the year we’ve had.

 Honorable mention:

Personal Space: The Final Frontier by oldmaker

Summary: "Captain's Log, Stardate 10918.8. Captain Ellen Harvelle reporting, First Officer… Castiel… attending. After a month of bargaining with the Gehennian government, efforts to permit a search party within the Rack facilities still proved unsuccessful. Although Starfleet’s orders dictated we tuck tail and leave, I elected to disregard this decision and beam a rescue operations team down for the recovery of Lieutenant Commander Dean Winchester.

The life of Commander Rufus Turner was lost in the efforts, but the hostage was recovered, severely injured but alive. Although I have not escaped unscathed for disobeying a direct order, Starfleet has redirected their attention to understanding the circumstances surrounding Winchester’s imprisonment and rescue..."

 In the middle of a milk run mission to retrieve powerful artifacts before they can fall into the hands of galactic terrorists, things go, as always, horribly wrong — and Dean and Castiel are mortified to discover their bond, if they even have one, is all that stands between the galaxy and its annihilation.

Something is rotten in the state of Starfleet.

Commentary: Star Trek Destiel AU. WIP with its 8/? chapters updated last on 12/30/2020, so I don’t know if this one will ever be completed, but its an exceedingly excellent AU. A crossover not in terms of borrowing Star Trek character, but in transplanting the SPN characters into TOS.

[railwayhistorical]

Palestine, Illinois

Here’s a view of the Illinois Central Gulf railroad yard in Palestine, Illinois. The view is toward the east from near where the yard office stood; the Wabash River is about two and a half miles down the way at a spot on the map called Riverton.

One image by Richard Koenig; taken in the winter of 1978-79.

[goodstuffhappenedtoday]

Rob Adams is a successful real estate agent in Utah. But when he was 11, he and his family experienced homelessness and lived in the back of a pickup truck.

Adams’s parents had only enough money for him and his siblings to stay in a motel room one night a week, he said, so for the better part of 1982, they spent the other six nights in the covered bed of their pickup truck in Porter, Tex., just outside Houston.

“My big meal of the day was school lunch, and many nights, there was no dinner,” recalled Adams, now 49.

But just before Christmas that year, a local family from their church offered up their house for two weeks while they headed out of town for the holidays. They left presents under the tree for Adams’s family and filled the fridge with food, including a turkey and homemade pies.

“I cried when I opened that fridge,” said Adams, who now lives in Riverton, south of Salt Lake City, with a family of his own.

“Unless you’ve been hungry, you can’t imagine how I felt,” he said. “I told myself, ‘Someday, if I have money, I’m going to do this for somebody else.’ ”

Adams made good on that promise and started Thanksgiving’s Heroes, a nonprofit that this year gave away 2,500 boxes — each filled with a Thanksgiving feast weighing 53 pounds — to homes in the Salt Lake Valley.

Weeks in advance of the Thanksgiving holiday, Adams accepts applications and nominations on his website for the free meal boxes. He buys the food himself every year from a local grocery distributor, then he recruits volunteers to help him load everything up and distribute the food the weekend before Thanksgiving.

“It makes my Thanksgiving,” said Sela Kauvaka, 41, who delivers boxes every year with her sister, Emma Lomu. “This year especially, a lot of people are hurting. To see their faces light up — there’s nothing like it.”

Another volunteer, Kallie Tueller, 23, said she was surprised last year to come home after her deliveries and find a Thanksgiving’s Heroes box sitting on her own front porch.

“I’d been having a hard time, but felt I didn’t deserve one because I have no children,” she said. “But somebody had nominated me for one. I felt such gratitude — that box fed me for a week and a half.”

[rolanberry-rebel]

Prompt #3: Scale

Set upon the nightstand, the copper plates and gilded chains on either side of the jittery balance gently, delicate shook as the physician weighed a handful of nondescript grey-flecked pills against a small 10-onze weight, the gold paint on its surface worn away from years of use. Hushed voices in the hall, shared from behind cupped hands and anxious glances, traded snakelike whispers as a dozen eyes watched from behind the glass panes of a half-opened french door. A blood-orange sunset painted across the La Noscean sky crept through windows, and complementary tones of flickering reds and yellows leapt across the dim bedchamber’s walls, pressing unease into every pore.

Upon the bed laid one of the most influential men in Hydaelyn’s business world, a titan who had forged from deception, bloodshed, bribery and dominance an agricultural and alcohol-soaked empire stretching from Eorzea’s shores to the gleaming streets of Kugane. Beneath a gold-laced comforter laid a man who had once been a giant, legs striding upon mountains of gilpieces and greed and the broken bodies of rivals and laborers alike, his once-strident frame reduced to a husk skeletal husk, skin drawn like taut leather over a frame ravaged by age and disease, a head of rich midnight-black hair wilted away, leaving his eyes sunken, his skull decorated only with wrinkles and age spots. Bony hands clutched the blanket atop him with what ghostly vestiges of vim remained in limbs barely able to lift even a tunic over the shoulders, and hoarse gasps vaguely resembling words crept ghoulishly through chapped lips blue and dry from visceral sick.

The physician quietly cursed as he placed another pill upon the gilded scales and tipped them, as if he’d lost some sort of silly balancing game. A dozen women stood just outside the door in stuffy gowns with dark shawls drawn across hair and long, black gloves pulled upon along arms; some wept, others gossiped. The men had all retired to the estate’s smoking lounge for the evening, leaving their wives to do the mourning for them. A throaty cough spewed spittle from the parched mouth of the desiccated titan, his throne of riches and souls traded for the silk sheets he now knew he would die in.

“Anny...” his voice wretched out.

Upon a creaking, elaborately-carved wooden chair painted in gold-fleck sat a girl no older than ten, a velvet dress trimmed in white frills hung loose around her, skin a milky-white, hair raven-black and braided meticulously, white stocks giving way to black-white shoes punctuated with a cute golden buckle. In that chair she’d sat since the early morning, and she’d begun to get antsy, though each time she went to the french doors to ask the congregation of women outside if she could go outside to play, her mother would arrive and admonish her, saying she needed to stay with grandpa.

She was his favorite.

That felt strange. Anny was old enough to get the feeling she’d never really be anyone’s favorite. Matthias was smart, Allure was pretty, Riverton was handsome, and the whole family would cheer watching Spaulding’s polo games with the other wealthy scions. No one cheered for Anny. But somewhere in the void deep in his chest where a virtuous soul would have a beating heart, Grandpa Martin had seen something so resonant in the little girl’s face; she’d been his pride and joy since before she began to walk.

Maybe in her innocence he saw a part of himself he’d slain and buried decades before.

“Anny, h-.. hold grandpa’s h-hand,” he stuttered out between hoarse gurgles. “Please, A...”

Hesitant, Anny grasped his clammy, bony digits; she felt him squeeze, though no strength remained within.

“Re.. remember, Anny, y.. you can do anyth.. anything, anything, you can b-become any person you w..” a bout of spastic coughing stole what little strength remained in the dying spectre’s grip; his body shuddered. Silence fell, save for the hoarse whimper of breaths wheezing down the old man’s throat. She held his hand, even if he couldn’t hold hers back. The breathing slowed into gulping gasps; Grandpa’s eyes began to drift shut, his increasingly-still body moving into brief shivers when he fought to take in slower and slower gasps of air; Anny looked away and closed her eyes.

A soft clatter interrupted the stillness; the physician’s hand slipped, knocking the 10-onze weight from one half of his alchemical balance, sending the neatly-stacked pills scattering across the nightstand. The gulping breaths stopped now. Even the faintest ghost of strength in Grandpa’s hand had disappeared.

Lissa never understood why she was Grandpa Martin’s favorite. Maybe she never would.

[sasheenka]

Sasheenka’s book club 2/?

For the past 5 months I have read and/or listened to over 40 gay romance books and I keep adding more and more to my collection. I will use my tumblr to do short reviews of the titles I go through. Number of stars ★ to ★★★★★ denote my level of enjoyment throughout.

Seven Summer Nights by Harper Fox (★★★★★)

It's 1946 and archeologist Rufus Denby is shellshocked and suffering from amnesia. While at a dig on one of the Greek isles he attacks a colleague during a fit and is forced to return to London, still in ruins after the war. With no better prospects he accepts the offer of a job in rural Sussex to investigate an ancient church in the sleepy village of Droyton Parva. He meets the local vicar, Archie Thorne, a generous, but lonely soul, with a lifetime of repressed desires. As he and Archie begin to unfold the archaeological mystery of Droyton, their growing friendship makes Rufus believe he might one day recapture his lost memories of the war, and find his way back from the edge of insanity to love.

I enjoyed this book a lot, though be warned it is very very angsty and heavy on homophobia. Rufus' shell-shock was very well done and I felt his pain during his struggle to keep hold on his sanity. It took me a while to warm up to Archie, but the way he stood up against his father figure in support of Rufus and their relationship as well as the subsequent part from his POV couldn't have left me in doubt! A beautiful love story sprinkled with a little bit of magic and an ancient mystery.Interestingly even though it is a mm romance, it is a very female centric book, with a large array of women of different ages and backgrounds and motivations, crucial to the plot (both to the mystery part and the romance part). 

Narrated by: Chris Clog (A well narrated book imo)

Length: 16 hrs and 10 mins (finished it in two days!)

Seducing Stephen by Bonnie Dee and Summer Devon (★★★)

Visiting a wealthy friend during university holiday, Stephen wakes to find his bed invaded by a late arriving, drunken houseguest stumbling into the wrong room.  At first Lord Peter Northrup is only interested in the young man as a lusty diversion. He tutors him in secret pleasures shared by men like them, intending to keep their special liaison brief, light, and temporary, while Stephen hopes for a lasting romantic bond. But even though Northrup leaves Stephen behind, he can't forget him. During their time apart, Peter and Stephen change, and when they meet again, their affair reignites on more equal foundations.

If you want an easy read with a LOT of sex (basically the first half of the book) and a splash of predictable plot, this would be a good choice. 

Narrated by: Cornell Collins (Mr. Collins is a superb narrator as always!)

Length: 5 hrs and 48 mins

Robby Riverton: Mail Order Bride by Eli Easton (★★★★)

In 1860 Robby Riverton is a rising star on the New York stage. But he witnesses a murder by a famous crime boss and is forced to go on the run - all the way to Santa Fe. When he still can't seem to ditch his pursuers, he disguises himself as a mail-order bride he met on the wagon train (the lady fell in love with another man on the journey and left with him). He might have intended to disappear when he reached his destination, but the family of his "intended" intercepted him before he could do so. Caught between gangsters who want to kill him and the crazy, uncouth family the mail order bride is supposed to marry into, Robby's only ally is a sheriff who knows who he really is. He urges Robby to stay undercover until the danger has passed. 

The premise might be ridiculous (as is the cover!), but it's actually a very well written book. I liked the protagonist, I came to like the family he was hiding with and the way Robby helped them become more functional as a family and happier as people was truly lovely. My only problem with it was that I just didn't care for the love interest at all. So I enjoyed it quite a lot, but not for the romance aspect.

Narrated by: Matthew Shaw (He did a good job on most of the characters, but I think the way he voiced the sheriff added to my dislike of the character. He tried for a “lazy drawl” that only served to grate on me.)

Length: 7 hrs and 34 mins

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

To kill a beast

Tw: U!Patton, mediveal au

So I was half through this piece on the 15th than Whoops Life. After this I'll continue with the Unsymptober stuff as it goes and go back when I have time... Honestly I find this fun enough that I'll probably continue using the prompts even after October ended. 

@unsympathetic-october-2020

Roman Goldstern took a deep breath as King Patton Riverton put a hand on his shoulder. Ever since he was little he'd been told stories about his destiny, to slay the mighty best that stole his brother. Now he was donned in armor and prepared to leave home.

"Remember, the snake has a silver tongue, ready to strike at your vulnerabilities at any second." Patton said, "He will try to convince you of his goodness, but remember, he is nothing but a terrifying beast."

Roman gave a hearty laugh, "You've told me a million times Pat-Pat. Trust me 

Patton rubbed his hands, " Yeah, I know. I'm just worried for you kiddo."

Roman's smile was as dazzling as a million suns, "You worry too much, by the wings of Pegasus I swear I will destroy that beast and protect our people!"

Patton kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Go get em tiger."

Roman rode his white horse to the tower, his sense of justice held his hand steady as he slowly crept up the rickety staircase, the wood was old and he gently pressed a toe against sections to make sure that he didn’t cause any of them to creek. Eventually he arrived in front of the beast. A snake wrapped its body around the frame of the room, its head sat in the center of its coiled body as it slept. Roman took out his sword and ran it through the closest big of flesh he could find.

The snake’s head tilted back as it gave a loud scream of pain, there was a bright yellow glow and the creature- no it wasn’t a creature anymore. It was a man? A man with a half-snake face clutching the bottom of his foot as he bled. That-that wasn’t supposed to happen. The man-beast was crying- he wasn’t supposed to do that!

The man looked at him with fire in his slit-pupils. “Did you come here to stab me in the foot and stare at my pathetic state?”

Roman stammered, “No, I-uh... You’re not a snake.”

The man snorted, “How observant of you.” He closed his eyes, “If you’re not going to kill me, can you get gauze or something. This kind of injury will get infected easily otherwise and it’s the least you can do.”

Roman nodded and took off his shirt, “Right, right, sorry- I didn’t...” What was he talking about, he did mean it. Destiny? Avenging his brother? What happened to that-

As if on cue a man walked into the room, “Hey, I heard a TON of noise up here. Either Jan-Jan’s fighting someone or someone’s dead. Either way I wanna join!”

Roman turned around, that voice, it was slightly lower but he’d recognize it anywhere. “Remus?” He shakes his head, “No, no you’re dead!”

Janus snorted, “Really? Someone should have told me. I would go back to making dinner for one.”

Remus blinked than cocked his head, thinking. He walked up to Roman, who was still slightly shocked by even seeing his brother. Remus bit his arm. 

“OW!”

Remus grinned cheerfully, “Yay! I’m not a ghost! But if J-anus keeps bleeding out he probably will be! I’m going to go wrap him up.” Roman rubbed his arm, he felt the small bumps that came with Remus’s bites. Hard enough to hurt a bit, but never hard enough to bleed. That was Remus all right.

“Why would Patton lie to me? He said you- you were a beast who killed Remus-”

Janus looked at him from behind Remus as he tied a gauze to his foot. 

“Maybe this will clear things up a bit.” Remus finished right on time for Janus to stand up.

“My name is Janus Riverton. I’m the rightful heir to the throne, cast out after meddling with,” he touched the side of his face, “Unconventional magic. The only threat currently to Patton’s throne.” He held out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Roman held out his hand, “Roman Goldstern. Former knight.” 

Destiny or no, Roman would not kill an innocent for his king.