#weston family brew

[evilminji]

Ooooh~ Drink mix up? >.>

Because! Wes DID, in fact, get that dream job. HAS learned... after many, many hours of "beat about the head and shoulders with an ethics pamphlet by his great aunt", to keep his mouth shut! Family curse of Sight? WHAT family curse?

He doesn't see shit! Mind your business.

What're you? A cop?

Look, he sent Fenton a gift basket. He was a shitty, shitty "I have to be RIGHT and nothing else matters!" Stubborn lil asshole of a kid. He got better. Grew up. No one is there best Self during puberty. He DOES, in fact, regret it.

Which is WHY, he is deliberately ignoring Kent's terrible, awful, paper-thin, "who meee~?" Aw shucks BULLSHIT excuse of a disguise, like it isn't blatantly obvious he's Superman. Yep. Nothing to see here! Nothing but us chickens! Mmmmm, morning coffee! Delicious.

But see, here's the THING.

The Itty, bitty, teeny lil PROBLEM...

Wes grew up in Amity "Totally Not Supernatural Hotspot For Centuries" Park. He is... to put it mildly, genetically? A freak. His biology is ALL fucked up. Everyone's is. And it WAS NOT made better by the Fenton's playing fast and loose with their hell basement. The Ectoplasmic NUKE that was that portal.

There is a REASON his morning coffee? Is COVERED. Contained. Fenton brand, LEAD LINED, specialty cups. The sort that can't be EATEN from the inside out. Eroded after a few uses. They're ugly as sin, but they work. He even ordered a few covers from Star's etsy shop. (Apparently he wasn't the only one who hated how ugly they looked. Good for her though, he heard it was doing well.)

He SAYS this? 'Cause his morning brew is less... straight COFFEE... and more... how to put this? A blend? Brew? Potion, really. Like an energy drink. From hell. Or, partially at least, the Zone. It's the combination of roots, seeds, and a few dried berries. Kinda like a tea, actually!

Tasty. Adds this nice fruity, warmth. A zing. Goes GREAT with the coffee. And it really perks you up... if you are Limnal. If you AREN'T? It'll desolve your esophagus like swallowing straight acid. And that's not TOUCHING the... witch-y, more Seer specific bit of the blend.

That stuff is medicinal. You know, "calm the mind" and "mental clarity". That sorta thing. With a good ol helping of "don't blurt out everyone's secrets, you spacey bitch! For the love of God, those are our INSIDE THOUGHTS!". Which? Really helpful! Infinitely less likely to get decked. It's a family staple.

Poisonous, though.

They're fine cause they've basically developed an immunity to that part, but like? Wouldn't recommend. It's why he NEVER shares his drinks. Food? On occasion. If he PLANS it and knows not to add and interesting spices. But DRINKS? Never. Weston family brews are basically NEVER safe.

Which? Begs the Very Important Question ™!

Who's Coffee Is This?

Cause it SURE AS FUCK AINT HIS!

You never realize quite how fast you can go from "completely calm and kinda sleepy" to "bomb strapped to my chest, primal panic AWAKE" until it happens to you. His coffee was ON HIS DESK. People have passed by. He talked to them. Cups put down and picked up. Lazy early morning. He doesn't even register, really, as his chair crashes to the ground.

He's shouting.

People confused. They don't realize yet. His head whips around, looking for that distinct cover. Before it's too late. Before someone takes that fatal sip. He spots it. Bolting from his desk. Crashing through coworkers, over desks. Chaos and outrage. "It's 'just' coffee!" They cry.

Kent turns, confused. Pretending. Raises his (HIS! Oh god!) cup to his lips, unknowing. Wes SCREAMS a warning. But he doesn't listen. "It's 'just' coffee" They never listen. Curse of Cassandra. God's damn it. This is why his family fucking CONVERTED!

He TACKLES the man of steel.

RIPS his cup away from him, knows his eyes are frantic. How much have you had?! Spit it out! Wes voice ECHOES in the sudden silence. I'm a META, Kent! It could KILL YOU!

And oh, Oh NOW they get it. Or perhaps it is the burn in his mouth that finally registers. He rolls, spits oil slick nebulae that eat away the floor. There is blood mixed within it. It took mere moments. Superman stares, transfixed and horrified, as Wes shakes. He... he should probably get off of him.

He'll move in a moment.

When his legs no longer feel weak from terror.

The news room is in chaos. Lane kneeling by her husband, Perry trying to do damage control. He... he's probably gonna lose his job, isn't he? Wes wants to cry. Protection laws only go so far, after all. And warning his boss about his dietary needs means jack shit, after an incident like this. Beloved as Kent is. Not that anyone likely believed him.

They never do.

And now he's nearly killed Superman.

@hypewinter @hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @lolottes @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @dcxdpdabbles

[buggywiththefolkmagic]

Hello!! I was wondering if you have any book recommendations for Appalachian folk magic? Especially for a beginner, I’m familiar with our local “old wive’s tales” but I’d love to learn more!!

Hello there! I have answered this question before but I have some new resources so I'll list them here!

It really depends on which part of Appalachia you are looking at! And if you want to dig deeper the ancestral roots of the family you are looking at. For example my family has a lot of Welsh and British influence because that was our family source so a lot of those beliefs lingered and changed throughout the years!

Someone from Pennsylvania would likely have a lot more German roots for their practice. But despite the root differences for the folklore these practices stem from they do still share a lot of connecting points!

But having babbled all of that here are my favorite books on AFM specifically. (Mind you Christianity takes a super huge part in the practice so a lot of bible and doing things in threes for the Trinity is involved!)

Authors to check out:

H. Byron Ballard- A pagan who also practices AFM, from the NC side of Appalachia, a lot of people hate her writing style which is a bit ramble-y. I also dislike the term she uses for her own practice but that is a super simple and small complaint honestly. I own all of her books on the subject, which should say something.

A NOTE ON H. BYRON BALLARD: I no longer support her work after discovering she is a TERF. I will no longer be suggesting her as an author to follow.

Jake Richards - From Eastern TN like me! A lot of what he talks about are things I have seen before, and he breaks down complex concepts like burn blowing into something relatively easily understood. HOWEVER HAVING SAID THAT the author is partially Melungeon, so he does have some Hoodoo mixed in from his grandmother's side iirc? He does label these things in his works and explains that they are not for everyone which I do appreciate.

Rebecca Beyer - While vaguely Wiccan toned, which I attribute to her publishers/raising, she's a transplant to Appalachia and if you're looking for herbal information on Appalachia and to wax poetic about how even with a ton of people settling there SO MUCH of the natural herbs and plantlife still survive, read her work! Her work on foraging safely and environmentally is so SOOOOO good.

Brandon Weston - For Ozark Mountain range/German/Dutch Appalachian work! He has written quite a few books on the subject and all of them are a treat!

Roger J. Horne - For how to dig into folklore and apply it to your own practice! This author is pagan and does blend in some traditional work with the Appalachian but I do enjoy his work and how he applies folklore. This author is also FROM Appalachia which is nice to see.

INDIVIDUAL BOOKS TO READ:

Appalachian Folk Healing by Jake Richards - A republication of a very old book on remedies and 'spells', while kitschy and stupidly worded, after all it was a popular book created just for sales reasons, some of these remedies are things I remember having done to me! Good for both a giggle and actual information. TW for mentions of animal parts, hunting, illnesses, the G slur, period specific phobias and racism.

Albertus Magnus - These books all supposedly written by an ancient guy, were actually mildly common on traveling salesmen's trucks and wagons. So as a result a lot of people in Appalachia had access. Like the book above it is very stupidly worded and definitely of their time. Same TW as above.

Pow-Wows or Long Lost Friend - Another Pennsylvania Dutch book! Very good and very clear.

Southern Folk Medicine - A book that breaks down a lot of common medicinal beliefs in the South which does include Appalachia! Sadly not just Appalachia but a very good book regardless. THIS BOOK MADE ME UNDERSTAND THE THEORY BEHIND BLOOD ISSUES MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE EVER HAS.

Moon Eyed People - A collection of Welsh folktales that brewed within Appalachia from Welsh immigrants. Very good book imo!

Granny Buck's Dibs and Dabs - This book is so worth the price tag! One of the more expensive books in my collection, but I'm fine with that. Granny Buck covers a lot of topics and I can feel the accent through the wording!

Signs, Cures, & Witchery - More German Appalachian stuff! This book and it's interviewees are from the Kentucky side of the mountains!

Witches, Ghost, and Signs - This book is based more in the Southern Appalachian area! Georgia, SC, NC, and TN specifically! Lots of folklore here, but does mention some not so great bits of the lore, but that is expected.

The Foxfire Books - What began as a school project exploded into a collection of true to life stories and idioms from Georgia elders within the mountains. SO SO GOOD OKAY? For everything. How to plant, hunt, make musical instruments, anything from the mountains? They cover.

[luvhards]

 application :

✧˚  ༘  ⋆｡˚  well,  well…  it  appears  that  aria  eden-west  will  be  a  part  of  new  york's  social  season  once  more  !  according  to  guildsource,  the  twenty  -  seven  year  old  is  most  known  for  being  an  heir  to  a  jewelry  empire  /  youtube  show  host  &  magazine  editor  ,  and  is  constantly  spotted  hanging  around  the  brew  club  —  seems  as  if  you've  heard  of  them,  too.  they  initially  made  a  splash  on  the  gossip  site  after  falling  down  the  steps  at  the  met  gala  ,  and  they've  been  the  center  of  attention  ever  since.  the  public  tends  to  view  them  as  being  nosey  and  critical,  but  people  close  to  them  say  they're  actually  captivating  and  thoughtful…  i'll  believe  it  when  i  see  it.  they  tend  to  remind  me  of  the  glossy  coat  on  the  pages  of  a  magazine  ,  the  blinding  sparkle  of  a  jewel  when  it  hits  that  perfect  spot  of  sunlight  ,  the  warmth  of  tequila  as  it  slides  down  your  throat  &  the  comfort  of  throwing  on  your  favorite  youtube  video  while  eating  a  meal  .  which  says  the  most  about  them.  i  wonder  if  they'll  be  seen  wearing  their  tiffany  &  co.  elsa  peretti  open  heart  necklace  to  the  social  events  this  year,  but  nevermind  all  that.  the  social  season  is  upon  us,  and  guildsource  is  always  watching.

statistics :

faceclaim  :  dua  lipa  name  :  aria  catherine  eden  -  west  birthday  :  april  eighteenth   birthplace  :  london  ,  england   age  :  twenty  -  seven   occupation  :  magazine  editor  ,  interviewer  &  youtube  show  host   education : bachelor’s in film and media studies from columbia. height  :  five  feet  ,  eight  inches   scent  :  dolce  &  gabanna  light  blue 

family heritage :

aria eden west is the newest carat in her family’s gold lineage, next in line to the throne of her family’s crown jewel , weston co.  founded by catherine west , weston co. was risen from the ground up , determined to give the ‘ every day woman ‘ access to jewelry that was both stylish and durable , allowing them to pay no mind to the usual wear and tear that came with being a twentieth century housewife . j.c penney was the first to invest , lining their accessories sections with their first ( and what would soon become their most famous ) cuff bracelet , an indisputable hit during the holiday season which made penney’s rich and catherine even richer . weston co. only blossomed from there , over the next hundred years she’d break the glass ceiling of the j.c penney’s jewelry section , open her own boutiques , little by little inching closer to the edge of rodeo drive where the weston co. now resides with the rest of the world’s greatest designers . weston co. prides itself on being made for women , by women — though , now it’s certainly popular and amongst anyone who enjoys fine jewelry — so the company now rests in the hands of eleanor eden - west , and eventually , it will become aria’s too .  ( weston co. is equivalent to a brand like cartier or tiffany & co. )

some lore about aria’s signature jewelry : the weston co. ( hehe ) open heart necklace in silver and gold is now an archival piece , released for a limited time in the late mid 2000s as an ode and celebration of the re-marriage of eleanor west and thomas eden .  west women are notorious for wearing almost exclusively gold jewelry , so the heart in gold is meant to represent both aria and her mother while the heart in silver symbolizes thomas , the two welded together in ( almost ) perfect matrimony . along with the necklace , she can almost always be seen wearing a random assortment of rings on her fingers , never so many to the point where it gets cluttered but there’s always at least one on her hands at all times . 

past :

you grow up with the world at your fingertips . everything you want is given to you before you have to so much as ask . it’s the typical life that’s afforded to a child like you , educated in the nation’s best private schools , never without the newest toys or latest book in whatever series you were obsessed with at any given time ( some even before they were released to the public ) . it’s comfortable , you’re comfortable , but why does that make you feel so guilty ?

technically the first “ true “ nepotism baby in your family considering that your mother didn’t get to reap the benefits of weston co.’s success until she was well in her 40s and your father built his entire career from the ground up . not that you’re complaining , people would kill for this life and you know that you’re lucky to live it . you don’t resent it , in fact you cherish it , but you can’t help from asking yourself one thing : what have you done to deserve this ?  a question both you and the tabloids seem to keep asking .

you want more out of life , as grateful as you are for your parent’s support you feel terrible taking it from them — is it true what everyone says ? would you really be nothing without your family name ? going to college feels like the only way to get away from it all , to silence that voice in your head that tells you the only thing you’ll ever have to show for yourself is a company you don’t even really own . you go to columbia , but not without scrutiny . impossible not to overhear the whispers of your peers that swear they have you pieced together , that are completely certain your family’s name ( or perhaps their generous donation ) is the only reason you’ve made it this far . they put a chip on your shoulder , and it’s only up to you to figure out how to get it off . 

you make two friends while you’re in college , it’s all you can really afford as someone who spends as much time in the library as you — one on occasion they quite literally had to drag you out of there kicking and screaming . you spend your first two years completely immersed in your studies , trying to prove to everyone ( read : yourself ) that there’s more to you than what your parents have given you , that you’re smart , independent , worth something on even your own .

it’s not until your senior year that you find the thing that would eventually become your life’s purpose . céline was meant to be nothing more than your final project , a theoretical magazine complete with three articles on art , entertainment and current events that was supposed to be for your professors eyes only . but you’ve never found yourself work so hard at something in your life , not only determined to make your final project your best one yet but actually interested in the process at hand . you found yourself excited to go home to write an research , so many nights spent watching the sun rise while you fooled around indesign tweaking the smallest details until they sat just right on the page . 

you’re not quite ready to own a company yet , the thought of inheriting the one that’s had your name signed on it sign the day you were born still sometimes makes you feel sick , so you’ll have to find another way to turn this into something more sustainable for the person you are right now .

you reach out to a couple of friends who reach out to a couple of friends and before you know it you’re being asked to pitch an idea for a youtube series , one that puts a new edge on the predictable world of celebrity interviews — and thus , pub crawl is born . it’s probably not the best idea , inviting celebrities for a day of recorded and publicized drinking all while asking them questions about their lives and careers , but maybe that’s exactly the point . pub crawl becomes an instant success , rising to viral fame after tom holland came to the show and completely spoiled the upcoming avengers movie after he’d gotten tripped up by one of your tricky questions . 

it’s been a hit ever since , each season only growing bigger and bigger until you find yourself being invited to interview celebrities at the red carpet of some of entertainment’s biggest events . people love you , they find your interviewing insightful yet playful , flirtatious yet elegant , captivating in every way as is obvious by the millions of views garnered by your interviews at the grammy’s , oscars and of course , the met gala .

you get three seasons deep into pub crawl before you realize that though hosting this show makes you happy , it doesn’t make you feel complete . sure , it’s fun picking your guests brains about their most recent projects but it doesn’t feel like enough . you want to talk about what’s really going on in the world , about art , history , fashion , design , and give voice to the people who do it best . so  , céline is pulled back out from the depths of your google drive , an dream you’re now determined to make into a reality especially now that you have all of the resources to do it on your own . for the next year , any time that isn’t spent filming pub crawl is dedicated to turning cèline into the publication it’s meant to be , gathering a team of writers , editors and designers to make certain that it lives up to the potential you’ve always known it had .

it’s been a year since it’s official launch , and while most of the reception has been positive you definitely won’t be winning a pulitzer any time soon . the critics sound like a broken record , dubbing céline as yet another passion project by an out of touch product of nepotism baby funded by money that was never yours in the first place . you’re tired of feeling like you have to prove yourself to people , trying to make them see that your worth is in more than just who you are, but what you can do — so , you stop trying to .

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

🎉🎉COMING SOON!🎉🎉

SHIELDING MAYA is coming from PJ Fiala December 21st! Check out the small town protector romance and be sure to pre-order today!

Pre-Order: https://geni.us/ShieldingMaya-All

~*~

USAT author PJ Fiala, brings you the next generation of GHOST operatives set in the small-town of Glen Hollow, Kentucky, where a long-standing rivalry is brewing into an all out war, and love comes calling even in the worst of times.

GHOST: Government Hidden Ops Specialty Team. They eliminate the threat when no one else can.

She’s a tough as nails GHOST operative.

He’s next in line to lead his people into the future.

Life turns deadly for both of them after they witness a murder.

Maya Sager is far from being a girlie girl. She grew up preferring combat boots and tactical gear to shiny shoes and frilly dresses, much to her proper grandmother’s chagrin. Maya loved and admired her mama and daddy, and wanted to follow in their honorable footsteps. Moving to Glen Hollow, Kentucky with her family of GHOST operatives gave Maya the chance to make her parents proud while fulfilling her childhood dream. Then she witnesses something she shouldn’t and her world is turned upside down.

Jasiah Weston was born and raised on the Hill overlooking Glen Hollow, Kentucky. With his father on his deathbed, Jasiah is next in line to be President of his people. To solidify his place as leader, he must guide them through a peaceful merger with the residents of the small town below. When he and a tough yet gorgeous, GHOST operative towny, witness a murder, they are targeted for death.

Jasiah is determined to peacefully resolve old conflicts and bring the two towns together. But can he succeed while Shielding Maya from hostilefactions with enough power to destroy the United States?

***

Entire series complete!

USA Today bestselling author PJ Fiala brings you the full and complete GHOST Legacy series—heroes willing to sacrifice everything in service to their country, and for the women they love. Full length novel with no cliffhanger, no cheating, and a happily-ever-after guaranteed.

[barkskins]

before they knew it, they were back to how they were when they first met. out on the open road, with only each other for company. the difference there was that the pair of them were now married, and had plans brewing in the backs of their minds; steal what they needed, skip town, and continue to the coast. west felt invincible—he had grown that way, like a twisted vine. with the influence and money that his father held, he would flash his billfold and, in and instant, west was let free from a night in jail with little more than a slap on the back of the wrist. why would today be any different? his father wasn't there, but that didn't make weston any less of a graves. such a thought brought a palpable sickness to his mouth. "i don't know all that much about guns either, but as long as it shoots and goes boom i can't complain. its not like we're going to be using it. i'd buy one from the kids aisle if we could get away with it being bright green." but they needed their gun to be believable, to threaten the staff enough to give up the beautiful rings and necklaces made bespoke for the richest families of the midwest. after an hour or so on the road, america as americans did best, west slowed as he saw a large, handmade cardboard sign: guns here! "wait in the car." he spoke, leaning to kiss naomi as he disappeared into the building. a few moments later, he was striding back to the vehicle with a plastic bag wrapped around something cold, hard, shiny. @daringsunflowers

naomi felt like she was living in some fantasy. none of it felt real, the way west had loved her and  the way she loved him and they hadnt even been together long.. now married, and their nights after the wedding in the hotel for their honeymoon was nothing short but amazing. most of it had been spent getting to know each others bodies. by now naomi was confident she knew where the very last freckle on his nude body was.   naomi knew from this moment on she would follow him to edge of the earth.. to hell and back. it didnt matter how dangerous or out right ridiculous his plans were she would be right there beside him hand in hand. sure him having a ring seemed a little silly to rob for one but not to naomi. she wanted the world to know that he was hers and he deserved the best.  

when he had reassured her that everything would be fine and nothing bad could happen how could she not believe him? she kissed him back. she hadnt wanted to leave the bed, this was a perfect enough life for her. just him and her in a bad for the rest of her life. as she moved off the bed, “yeah of course.i trust you. whatever we need to do..” she had slipped off for one last shower while he loaded up and returned the key. she needed one last hot shower and then she dressed meeting him in the passenger side of the truck. “i know nothing about gun.” naomi confessed to him. “so really it is whatever you think is best… i think i want a necklace.  “ she touched her bare neck. “with someone shiny that hangs a little between here.” her fingers trailing down her chest before putting them back in her lap. “like a diamond or something.” she looked his way. “we just look for the most expensive pieces, will bring the most money.”

[tiny-maus-boots]

Queen of Hearts pt 13

A/N: Always and first thank you to my bestie @chloes-yellow-cup for always doing the thing. and to @kimmania who always gives each chapter a thoughtful review. 

13.  

“Oh, my dear it’s so lovely of you to come to brunch. I was starting to feel a little put off you know. All those invitations you so politely refused. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Stacie smiled and sipped her cool iced tea to give herself a moment. It was true, she had ignored all of Edith’s requests to have lunch. And yes, she had been avoiding the older woman. It was a matter of self-preservation really. Keeping up the appearance of normality around someone as observant as Edith Roussard-Ford was never easy. She had a keen eye and open ear to everything that happened to the biggest families in society.

“Well…I suppose I can be frank with you. Now…that things are…resolved.”

The old woman across from her nodded encouragement and leaned forward eager for any tidbit she could glean from Stacie. It was necessary even she’d rather not talk about life with Weston. When dealing with Edith you had to give some to get some.

“Of course, my dear. Dreadful business…”

“It was hard to get away…often times my only haven was my work. Weston was…” Stacie trailed off and cleared her throat. It wasn’t acting, the rush of anxiety she experienced just thinking about that time robbed her of speech. “Weston Whitman was a very controlling man. Controlling and more often than not…violent.”

It never got any easier admitting the truth of things but she raised her chin defiantly. Edith’s eyes widened slightly but her surprise was more about Stacie admitting it than the confirmation itself. She waited a beat for the other woman to ask what she knew was coming.

“Oh, dreadful. Just dreadful. And still…you never knew? There wasn’t a hint of suspicion about his true character?”

“Of his character, yes. Of his actual coming and goings and affairs…no. I had no knowledge of those terrible things. I shudder to think of him, under my roof, sleeping next to me self-satisfied with the blood of innocent women on his hands. What a joke I must have been to him with my work at the shelter, helping him keep up the façade unknowingly.”

“To think nothing of the scandal about the money.”

Of course, the money was far more important a topic than her public humiliation and shame. Stacie let her gaze drop demurely. Money was everything in this world, who had it, who needed it, and who stole it…

“I’ll admit Edith, I had some concerns about Weston’s business. He seemed edgy and evasive and he asked me to empty my personal safe…spending cash. Some jewelry. It was nothing that would ever pay back his investors.”

“I heard the federal agents seized everything. It’s a wonder you have a roof over your head, my dear.”

Stacie’s smile was brief and coy. “Much like oil and water, money and love simply do not mix. When you’re a Conrad you learn that at quite a young age.”

Edith leaned back to watch her carefully. Weighing all that she had learned and the earnestness in which Stacie had conveyed it. She could see the respect dawn in Edith’s gaze and when the woman leaned forward again it was with eager confidence.

“You may be a Conrad in name but you are Helene’s daughter in more than appearance. Your father barely had a nickel to his name when she ran off with him. Now there’s a scandal for you!”

It was surprising and Edith laughed gleefully when it showed on her face. She’d been raised her whole life on the presumption that her mother hand done what she had been expected to do. Money marries into money.

“Didn’t know that did you? She might have run off with August but she was no fool. Van der Berg family lawyers ensured he couldn’t take a dime of it.” Interesting. Stacie made a soft thoughtful sound and Edith continued unprompted. “You have to hand it to August. He made a name for himself. All that money is his by right…I suppose.”

Stacie’s brows came up and she tipped her head to the side. “You sound doubtful of that Edith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of speaking ill of your father, dear. I know you’re not close but there are some bonds that can’t be broken. Family bonds. You understand. I wouldn’t want you to have different opinions of your father. He’s done well by your mother.”

It was there, below the surface, begging to brought into the open. Stacie could feel it between them, brewing like a great storm. One little flicker of interest and it would come out. And then things would change forever between Stacie and August Conrad. And with that she was sure the tentative and fragile bridge she and her mother were building.

But if she were really like her mother, Helene would understand why she was doing this. At least that is what she hoped if this all ever came to light. Stacie let out a soft sigh and leaned back. She couldn’t out right ask about it, it had to be done delicately. Edith watched her work through the knowledge that there was something going on that she hadn’t been aware of. It was a careful dance baiting the woman to reveal more than what Stacie herself had given.

“Well, whatever my father is or is not doing, it’s nothing I know about. He and Weston shared that in common.”

“Ah yes. Thick as thieves those two…”

There it was. The hook Edith thought she was dropping in the water. Stacie batted her eyes in mild confusion, ignoring the slightly predatory smile on the old woman’s face. Her lip pouted out just enough to give the impression that she wasn’t making the leap entirely. Stacie smiled inwardly as Edith swallowed her own lure.

“Mind you, I’m not saying August is a thief, he’s merely an opportunist you see. He’s very good at knowing who to know. It’s how he made his fortune through the years. Nothing illegal in it exactly. Most would say it’s a shrewd bit of business.”

“But I don’t see how that could help him benefit from Weston’s…activities. Of course, he knows everyone, he’s a politician.”

“Hm indeed, indeed. Of course, he wouldn’t be involved in any such thing. Strike it from your thoughts, my dear.” The woman brushed a hand over her knuckles, and not for the first time during the conversation. Aubrey probably would have called the tell earlier but Stacie was proud of herself for picking it up now. “In any case I am quite sure Senator Grant and Warren Randall would lean very heavily on your father if they felt he was in any way responsible for Weston stealing their money.”

Stacie’s heart beat double time but she rolled her shoulders casually in a shrug. Jackson Grant and Warren Randall were her father’s closest confidants, present at every family function since as far back as she could remember. Uncle Jack had even gifted her the first horse she had ever owned. They were, in a fashion, family.

“I haven’t seen Uncle Jack in a few years. Not since his son Kodie and I went to Senior Prom together.”

It hadn’t been her choice of date, and the argument that had raged in the Conrad home had lasted three intolerable days, she and her mother butting heads on everything from the color of her dress to the way she wore her hair. Kodie wasn’t a bad guy and truthfully, he hadn’t wanted to go the dance with her any more than she had with them. But it had been arranged years before the event was even due to take place. In the end they both dutifully took their places next to each other for pictures in the foyer before escaping to the limo to get happily drunk on the well-stocked wet bar.

“I had almost forgotten about the blush of young love. I was worried about that boy for a while. You heard they caught him awhile back in a house full of street whores and enough cocaine to give that Tony Montana character a seizure.”

Her brows came up at that. It seemed unlike the boy she had known but people changed and it took more strength to keep from breaking under the family pressure than perhaps Kodie had. She let her curiosity at the topic glimmer to the surface.

“A house full of…he was the perfect gentleman at prom. I can hardly imagine that scene.”

“Who can say what’s gotten into that young man. If Jackson hadn’t gotten him a job at the Port of Los Angeles, he’d probably be in an out of rehab facilities I imagine.”

She could tell by the way Edith waved a hand dismissively that Kodie wasn’t worth the energy to think on. Stacie lifted a shoulder casually giving it the appropriate gesture of disinterest that was expected. There wasn’t much more to gain from digging further. Eventually Edith would wonder why she was so eager to gossip about the families. It was better to go on to something everyone knew.

“Speaking of rehab, did you know Tristaan has a new line coming out now that he’s clean and sober? He plans to call it Clarity. I saw a sneak peek of some of the pieces and they are just gorgeous. You’d just adore the mother of pearl pin collection…”

The conversation shifted easily and she spent another hour enjoying the afternoon with Edith. She kept the tone of their topics light but her mind was turning over the information she’d gleaned. Stacie was willing to bet even money that Uncle Jack and Warren Randall were in on whatever Weston was into. Whatever business they had together scared Weston, enough to demand she empty her safe, liquidate assets…it was big. Big enough to ignore Weston’s predilection to torturing and murdering women. Stacie knew there was a bigger play on the table, she could feel it even if she couldn’t see it yet. They needed more information and she knew just which card to play. She waved one last time to Edith as she slid into the backseat of the SUV.

“Home?”

She gave Happy a distracted nod that the blonde smiled at before turning to put the car in gear. “Who do we know in drugs?”

Happy’s bright eyes cut to her quickly in the rearview mirror with curiosity. She was weighing the request to see if Stacie was joking or not. After a second she gave a delicate grunt and focused on the road.

“Depends on how much of what you’re looking for.”

“Enough cocaine to make Tony Montana have a seizure.”

This time the eyes panned up in a slow disbelieving arc. Stacie smiled widely and gestured to the street to remind the other woman to keep her focus where it needed to be.

“We might know a guy…”

“Good. Aubrey’s going to want to talk to him.”

“I’ll make it happen, boss.”

[midnightsimmmer]

I decided I’m posting spoilers

In my creative writing class, I decided to take season 2, episode 4 of Bite The Bullet and make it into a short-story-esque read. Scattered scenes from the episode will be below ;) Would love feedback!!!!

“Well, have you tried… maybe like-”

“Give it up, Kiyami.” Beatrix fumbled to get her fingers untangled from her curls. Kiyami slumped onto the table and placed her cheek in her hand.

“Bee… he’s not going to stop bugging you until you tell him to stop.”

“He’s never going to stop.” Beatrix's hand flung free, nearly knocking her tea off the table. Kiyami helplessly opens her phone after a slight ding emerges, and she lets out a sigh.

“Are you still answering his calls?” Beatrix freezes, and without a word Kiyami knew the answer. She was disappointed, but not surprised. The room suddenly grew colder, Kiyami rubbing her arms for warmth, looking to see if the air conditioning kicked back on. It didn’t. She watched Beatrix pick at her nail polish for what felt like hours.

“You don’t understand.” Beatrix’s voice choked under the pressure, barely finishing the last word. 

“What do you mean I don’t understand? I thought I knew you better than anyone ever has.”

“Well, clearly you don’t.” her stare lingered from her nails to the painting Kiyami hung up above their table. It was a piece of Japan Kiyami spent an entire night telling Beatrix about when she couldn’t sleep. Kiyami practiced tai chi there every day after school as a child, she loved the way the cherry blossoms fell onto her as she swiftly moved her limbs. It was one of the only places Kiyami could be at peace, and Beatrix wanted her to always have a way to be there.

“It’s been 7 months. You need to let him go or-”

“Or you’re going to leave me, right?” The cracks in Beatrix’s voice echoed the pain she was feeling. “If you loved me you wouldn’t make me choose.”

“If you really loved me, there wouldn’t be a choice.” Beatrix’s face grew red, for the first time since she got home, she finally made eye contact. Kiyami could see the pain, the overwhelming amount of confusion, anger, frustration, sadness, everything.

“He was the first person I ever loved and trusted, I told you he wasn’t going to let me go.”

“He murdered people, Beatrix!” Kiyami’s hand slammed onto the table and the deep voice of her past crept up. Frustration overpowered the estrogen Kiyami had been on for years, and hearing her old voice broke her heart even more.

“He did it to protect me.” Beatrix’s teeth began to grind, she continued to pick at her polish without breaking from the stare.

“You’re so stuck on a man that you’re going to make excuses for the murder of your own father? What kind of hold does he have on you?” Kiyami pulled her hand off the table and rested it on Beatrix’s hands. “It wasn’t this bad when we got together, Bee. What happened?”

That’s when she broke. 7 months of tears all came out at once, causing every spec of black eyeliner to smear down her cheeks. She wanted to tell her everything, help her understand, but how? How do you explain the way you’ve been once again manipulated, when you don’t even know it? Weston’s smooth words through the scratchy connection of a prison phone echoed through her mind, and she couldn’t let him go. There’s no way it could ever be possible. Kiyami wrapped her arms around Beatrix, but she pushed her away.

“Hey, let me help you.” Kiyami was back to her soft and light-hearted voice, caring more about Beatrix’s emotions than whatever hold Weston still had on her. “This is part of my job.”

“A relationship isn’t a job, Kiyami!” She hid her frustrations through anger, unknowingly burying every ounce of progress she’s made with Kiyami. “I never felt like work to him.”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Kiyami’s hand frantically flew to cover her stomach, the other smearing her makeup to the side of her face rather than down her cheeks.

“I need to go.” Beatrix struggled to stand, overrun with emotion that she couldn’t control. She practically ran out the door as Kiyami turned, thinking of following her. Instead she leaned out the door to ask Beatrix to call her, but she was long gone.

Calista opened the door to find Beatrix, who had wiped all of her makeup away on the walk to her place. Her eyes were red and glossy, but Beatrix refused to let another tear fall. With an instant gasp, Calista’s girlfriend, Aia, joined by her side to welcome Beatrix in with a warm hug. Beatrix politely asked not to be touched, and they both backed up, allowing her to sit down wherever she pleased.

“What happened?” Calista sat by Beatrix as Aia began to brew black tea, something that Calista hated but kept around just for Beatrix.

“I don’t think Kiyami wants to be with me anymore.” Beatrix mumbled as she tried to steady her hand.

“Kiyami wants to be with you, Beatrix. Don’t let your insecurity take over the situation at hand.” Aia handed the cup to Beatrix, who only responded with a dirty look. “Too straight forward… right.” Aia stood there for a few moments, and realized that there was no way she was going to help. Kiyami may be her sister, but Aia still hasn’t figured out how to talk to Beatrix. Calista turned and locked eyes with Aia, the pair communicated almost telepathically.

It’s okay, I got it. Aia read from Calista’s soft nod. I think I’m gonna go. Aia said through sucking in her lips and looking down to her right.

“Just know that Kiyami loves you, I hear the way she talks about you every day. She wants you.” Aia picked up her phone from the glass coffee table and left into Calista’s room, hardly making a noise.

“Beatrix, you have to tell me the truth.” Calista put a hand on her knee, which was cold despite Beatrix wearing thick black tights. “Is this about Weston?” the tightening grip on the mug of tea told Calista all she needed to know, and she let out a sigh. “I told you to stop taking his calls.”

“He offered to pay for me to go to art school.”

“And you’re going to take it?!” 

“What? No! I-”

“I told you to stop taking money from him! I told you to stop taking calls from him!” Calista moved a cushion away from Beatrix, eyebrows furrowing.

“I did! But then I-”

“But then you decided to take the call! You know how he affects you, and you know how his affect on you hurts Kiyami! For fucks sake, Bee, do you even care about her feelings?”

“I do!” Beatrix’s unsteadiness hurled out in her words, slowly growing more and more exasperated.

“Then why take his call?”

“I-”

“He’s manipulated you. Again.”

“No he hasn’t! I have everything under control!”

“Then why are you crying?!” Beatrix paused to touch her cheeks, she can’t hide her feelings as easily as she used to. Calista’s shoulders dropped. “I can’t keep supporting this.”

“What?”

“I could understand if you weren’t taking his calls anymore, but that’s not the case. You’re letting him do this to you because part of you still wants him to.” Beatrix croaked, trying to say I know, but she couldn’t. There was nothing she could do. The purgatory of emotion, trampled between anger and despair. Calista was exhausted, and Beatrix knew it was over. Not just with her friends, but with Kiyami as well. She’s let him ruin everything for her. Her family, her friends, and any potential romance she could ever have. Beatrix accepted her fate with her best friend and left, trying her best not to slam the door behind her and failing. Aia poked her head out into the hallway to see Calista turn to look back at her.

“I don’t think you should have done that, Cal.” Aia sat next to Calista, her head barely able to lean on her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what else to do, she’s stuck.”

“Not everyone needs to hit rock bottom in order to get better. This isn’t a movie.”

“Then what do you suppose I do?” Calista rested her head on Aia’s, letting out a sigh that drew on for what felt like forever. Silence echoed through Calista’s apartment, doubt filling in any cracks left over.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three days had passed since Beatrix called Kiyami from the corner of Arcadia Way and Charles Lane. She sulked on the bench painted blue in front of Mike’s Cornerstore, slowly typing in Kiyami’s phone number. The skips between words weren’t because of poor cell service. Beatrix crashed on Malachi’s couch, which only bugged his parent’s a little bit. As long as she paid a little rent for their troubles, everything would be alright… right?

“Beatrix…” Malachi shook her awake, no light shone in through the curtains yet. “You were sleep-talking again, my baba asked me to take you into my room.”

“I’m sorry.” she wiped the mixture of drool and tears from her chin and strained her eyes to see the clock on the wall. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He stood from his knees and went into his room, opening his dresser drawer for a t-shirt. Beatrix awkwardly followed in, hesitating to sit on his bed at first. 

“You’re sure they don’t mind I’m in here?” 

“Just as long as we’re fully clothed, not sharing a blanket, and the door is wide open.” He closed his dresser with his hip as a white v-neck was pulled down to cover his thin but toned waist; Beatrix failed to notice. Instead of laying back in bed to sleep, he leaned against the wall parallel to Beatrix. “Why did you come here?”

“Because I have nowhere else to go.” she bit her lip, eyes avoiding his.

“I know that’s not true. You came to me before your brother.” A wall of awkward silence built brick by brick as the clock ticked on. 

“I don’t want to explain everything to him.”

“Don’t you think your own twin would understand what’s going on in your head more than your eh- uh, whatever I am to you.”

“I think you count as an ex.”

“Cool, so you ghosting me hurts a little bit more now.”

“Aren’t you happy I came to you?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I am. I just... don’t get why. You haven’t talked to me since you left.” His arms crossed with defense, preparing himself to say something that could set off what he knows to be a ticking time bomb. “You haven’t even apologized yet.” 

“I know.” She looked at all the baseball trophies Malachi’s parents demanded be kept on the shelves. “That’s because I’m not sorry.”

“What the hell kind of response is that?” Malachi’s arms fell in dumbfoundedness.

“It’s my response. It’s the truth.” She bit her lip, the taste of blood spilling onto the side of her tongue. Malachi was perplexed, there was no way he could possibly respond to that. The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Malachi muscled the ability to ask the question that’s been lingering for months.

“Why’d you do it?”

“There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about.”

“With Weston?”

“With… Weston…” Malachi could see she was ready to open up, and maybe give him the answer he’s been longing for. She explained everything. How she fell fast and hard for Kiyami, simply because Kiyami made her feel like Weston didn’t exist anymore. Malachi had a lot of qualities Weston had, and whenever he said something Weston had said before, it threw Beatrix off guard and she felt reminded of everything he’d done for her. Even though everything Weston did was monstrous, it was still for Beatrix; The deep-set manipulation was making Beatrix feel that maybe, just maybe, murdering 6 people wasn’t so bad in the end. Beatrix told Malachi about Weston paying for her rent up until she moved in with Kiyami, and how Weston offered to pay for art school on top of that.

“Wow…” Malachi looked out to the sun rising through his window, suddenly sitting next to Beatrix on his bed. “That’s… a lot.”

“I know.”

“I really liked you, Beatrix.”

“Do you still?”

“No, not the same way.”

“Good.” The sound of an alarm buzzed through the walls, Malachi’s mother was getting up for work.

“Coffee?” Beatrix shook her head. “Oh, that’s right. Tea only.” She failed to hold back her smile. They sat there for a while, enjoying each other's aura in the silence. Malachi turned to see the bags under Beatrix’s eyes, the restless nights were really beginning to show, especially since she hasn’t had the chance to put makeup on since the last time she cried it all off.

“What do I say?”

“What?”

“In my sleep.” Beatrix looked to the ground, twiddling her thumbs.

“Oh.” Malachi pondered for a moment, wondering whether he thought she was ready to hear the truth or not. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

“Maybe you’ll tell me now.” a stern tone rode over her voice.

“Maybe I’ll tell you never.” A cheesy smirk made Malachi’s left dimple show, and he got up to grab his towel. “I’m gonna shower.” Beatrix kept her eyebrows low until the door was completely closed before letting her face relax as she flopped backwards onto the bed.

The way Malachi’s hair fell into his deep brown eyes when it was wet could weaken the knees of any girl, or guy for that matter. Droplets of Old Spice scented water drizzled down his jawline, which was the perfect mix of smooth and angular. He shook his head as water flung everywhere, annoying Beatrix, but causing the group of teen girls at their bus-stop to melt in the 40-degree cold.

“Can you fucking not?” Beatrix wiped droplets off her cheeks as she glared upwards. “You’re practically giving me a shower over here.”

“Oh come on,” Malachi pulled his hood up before opening his car door “It’s not like you didn’t need one anyway.” Beatrix reached out to him from the other side of the car, only for him to poke fun at the fact that she’s far too short to reach across his car. 

“You’re lucky it’s cold.” she grimaced.

“You’re lucky I’m letting you come to work with me, again.” her eyes rolled so hard she could see her brain, if there was any light.

“I don’t want to sit at home all day with your father watching a jewish priest read the Torah. I’m sorry.” Malachi let out a laugh.

“Me neither. That shit’s awful.” He pressed a cigarette between his lips before turning the corner, the teen girls once again gushing over him.

“Looks like you’ve got groupies.”

“They flunked classes so bad they need to go to summer school.” He lit his cigarette and drove off from the girls, who were still looking at him and waving to his car. “They’re also sophomores.”

“And for a moment you had me thinking bad grades were the only thing holding you back.” Beatrix joked, but he didn’t seem to take light to it.

“I’m not going to fuck a 15 year old.”

“It’s a joke, dude. I know you’re not like that.”

“Kay well that doesn’t make it funny.”

“I’m sorry, holy shit.” A few seconds of silence were cut off with Beatrix awkwardly turning on the radio, alternative music blasting through the speakers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kenji looked over to Cedric, both of them with concerned looks on their faces.

“You’re allowed to ask her what happened, you know.” Cedric rolled his eyes.

“She doesn’t respond when I do that, she has to tell me herself.”

“Maybe she’s doing that thing where she wants someone to reach out to her, but she’s too scared to ask.” Cedric looked over to Kenji, telepathically asking: are you sure about that one?  “Yeah no, you’re right. It’s Beatrix we’re talking about here.” Kenji’s british accent stumbled over her name, as it always has. Seeing Cedric worry about his sister made Kenji frustrated, he can’t solve problems that have to do with Beatrix because of her stubbornness. A slight knock on the open door revealed Kenji’s dad, with slicked back blonde hair and a dark 5 o’clock shadow.

“You lads all set for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry.” Cedric spit out, Kenji’s muscles tightened.

“Well, your mother and I are going out for lunch with your sister. I assume you boys can make your own once your appetite comes back.” He stepped back to head down the stairs before facing them again. “I hope everything gets sorted, Ced.” Cedric rubbed his temples as the footsteps down the stairs echoed into the room.

“He’s trying to father me.”

“It’s not like it makes me any more comfortable than you.” Kenji sighed, trying to think of any possible way to make Cedric feel better. “How’s chocolate chip waffles sound for lunch?”

“Extra chocolate chips?”

“Extra chocolate chips.” Kenji smiled before the two of them rushed down to the kitchen, pulling the waffle maker from the cupboards. Once they noticed the van pull out from the driveway, Kenji turned on the radio to its highest setting. Cedric’s awkward and lanky dancing paired with off-pitch singing brought warmth to Kenji’s heart, who sang along in perfect pitch as he put the waffle mix together. To Kenji’s surprise, Cedric’s elbow wacked against the bag of flour. White powder filled the air, sticking to Cedric’s black jeans and Kenji’s dark green pullover. They stood in silence, Cedric’s large brown eyes widened and staring right into Kenji’s hazel deep-set eyes, before breaking out into laughter, hugging the flour even deeper into their clothes.

[parf-fan]

Unsolicited and incomplete list of highlights from Improv Technology’s May 23rd show

In little-to-no particular order.

“I thought we weren’t doing a musical”

Alexis transforming herself into Don Alonso.

Davis Handle

Michael Stahler doing a live Animal Planet special with Hoagie and Milo.

“Which Brady Bunch am I??”

Jonathan's entire hotel experience.

“I wanna be entirely clear, visible, vulnerable, perhaps supple, and maybe even emotionally contemplative with the press.”

Alex's face immediately after Chat Roulette.

Alexis loudly bursting into a vaguely Scottishy-piratey accent.

Michael getting to do a quick science talk during Objection.

Jonathan's ASMR persona stabbing themself in the eye with their glasses.

Joe's genuinely brilliant hosting.

“Who among us has not slapped through Jonathan before?”

Most likely to start an improv show eight minutes late.

“What number show is this for you guys?”

“I can hear you as clearly as I can hear your sins!”

“We doin' a show y'all?”

“I will say that my dog just leaped off of an— anyway.”

“Holy bananas.”

“No. This is just a personal Alexis-to-Jonathan threat.”

Michael trying to start a joke three times in One-Eighty-Five before managing it.

Michael's video freezing in the middle of the joke.

Michael patterspeaking to make up for it.

Alex in Press Conference as Batman changing his superhero name to Bearman.

Everybody's reactions to hearing that prompt.

This is the second time Alex has been Batman in an Improv Technology show.

the crimes that you kermitted

“You the bitch Satan lookin' for.” “I am the bitch Satan's looking for!”

Katelyn tapping on Weston

“Yo, you were just possessed there for a moment, that was beautiful.”

The gross Zoom incompetency of this show.  Literally, I was crying from laughter.  This must be what Disasterpiece is like in-universe.

“...facebook dot com, you know, the website?”

“Not you, though.  You are the worst child I've ever read to.”

Joe's description of Alexis completely fitting Michael, too.

“ComPLaINtS??? WE've gotten WRitTeN COmpLAiNts!!!!”

“Church had gotten boring.”

“In honor of Adam Shepley:” *dramatically opens carbonated drink*

“I have to stop a disaster, one second, my dog's about to jump on my cat, one second.”

Everybody's faces at that.

“Yeah, I can make up some references to a show I haven't seen.”

Alexis's little grin when Haley brings up otters.

Michael quietly threatening the audience to coerce them into donating.

“Mike, stop talking to them.” “I—I– I wasn't! I wasn't.”

Michael continuing to quietly threaten.

“Is the dog back? Are you okay?” “No, my family's at the door.”

“Christians are weird.”

The false start on Michael’s press conference

“What I sound like doesn't matter at all, and I've forgotten the accent since the last time I saw you.”

“Good Cop, Bad Cop; otherwise known as Here's A Glass Of Milk, Gimme That Glass Of Milk.”

Their faces at that.

An objection being called at that alternate name.

Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.

“I'm.....Walt?”

grrrrounded

Arc Hamm

“Oh. Shocker.  Another play where half the cast is dead before the end of Act One.”

The beard reveal ™.

Jonathan's reaction.

Michael putting sunglasses atop his regular glasses to be the bad cop.

“Get the heckin' heck out of here!”

Michael's nyooming onscreen entrance as bad cop.

Ailey Karlson

Weston and Hoagie helping close out the show

“Uhh, guys?”

“Oh, huntey, you bein' hunted?”

nocableinmychildhood.com

Michael: *foghorn sounds* “Correct the record.”

“I am insulted at the idea that I am three times the size of Shrek.”

Alexis slipping up and dropping the f-bomb.

Michael Stahler (Horace Tanningrove) unveiling a beer.

Once Michael realizes that he's meant to be marketing beer, he starts sounding like a middle schooler writing an essay on a book he didn't read, and I think that's beautiful.

“I guess Jeff is definitely gonna have to control this game.”

“Let's see what Christian Mingle in this part of Georgia has to offer.”

Michael pulling a hairbrush out of nowhere as a visual aid

“Remember CD-roms?”

Michael: “You [Haley and Alexis] are better at facial hair than I am!”

“So you hiding from Satan and looking for vampires?” “Yes.” “Girl, you need help.”

Alex breaking the fourth wall to tell all men to get rid of cargo pants, and Michael promptly standing up and grabbing a pair of cargo pants from off camera to throw them somewhere else off camera.

Joe's absurdly beautiful origin story.

“ 'Aye aye Captain' is damn right.”

Michael quickly starting to analyze everybody's facial/skeletal structures before remembering that Alex literally played a snake.

Michael himself then briefly becoming a snek.

Alex saying his address over the internet while Alexis hastily tries to prevent it.

Jonathan apparently not having writing implements at the beach?

“I could honestly watch this for the full hour.” “I could not. Please.”

“That would've been a good one, but no.”

“Are you colourblind?” “Yes.”

“Can I let my cat out of the room?”

“Please donate to our Venmo so we can take improv classes.”

“Children can't drink beer.” “Not with that attitude, they can't.”

Porous Tanningrove

“Thought has occurred.”

“Well at least I can drink my name-brand soda without having to hide it.”

“Also here, my little sister, in some cases, not really, she's not adopted, we just say things sometimes.”

“Objection! As long as your cells are able to metastasize[?], you have a life.”

“Sshould I write any of that down?”

“I'm a sexy boi.” –Alexis, quite rightly

“How did you know how moist I was?”

Katelyn deadass namedropping her persona in Press Conference and not realizing that's who she is.

“Oh my god I almost lost my mother's place in a book!”

“I'm ready to get crusty with it. I regret saying that.”

“Why do you get so close to the screen”

“We stan David.”

Michael petting his dog while everyone else discusses the prompt.

“Are you a specific pirate?” “What?” “Are you specific?  Or AtlanticHAHAHA!”

Everybody hivemindedly putting on cockney accents of various degrees of dreadfulness upon hearing the phrase “a new brew” and just. not stopping.

Seriously, what was up with that, it was insane.

Hilarious, but insane.

Michael correcting Jonathan's misuse of “objective” vs. “subjective”.

Everybody's faces immediately after.

“Objection! I sent you a foot pic a mere two weeks ago.” “That's true.”

“Ah swear, Ah'll goe out an' find yer entire family and gut ye liyke a fish!”

Hoagie waving goodbye.

“Oh, if you look upon these, they're not just simply rubber ducks: one of them is wearing a leather harness.”

[onlywaynews]

Канцлер Риши Сунак и его жена Акшата Мурти впервые попали в список Sunday Times Rich List самых богатых людей - 250 человек Великобритании. Их общее состояние в 730 миллионов фунтов стерлингов, Риши Сунак и Акшата Мурти на 222 место в годовом списке газеты. Последний рейтинг 250 богатейших людей Великобритании также выявил рекордные 177 миллиардеров в Великобритании в этом году, сообщает Sunday Times. В целом, самые богатые люди и семьи в Великобритании в этом году стоят 711 миллиардов фунтов стерлингов, что на 8% больше, чем в прошлом году в 658 миллиардов фунтов стерлингов. Шри и Гопи Хиндуджа, которые управляют индийским конгломератом Hinduja Group, возглавили список со своим состоянием в 28,47 млрд фунтов стерлингов - рост более чем на 11 млрд фунтов стерлингов за год. Предприниматель сэр Джеймс Дайсон и его семья заняли второе место в списке богатых после увеличения на 6,7 млрд фунтов стерлингов до 23 млрд фунтов стерлингов. [caption id="attachment_16244" align="alignnone" width="730"] The Sunday Times Rich List 2022[/caption] 10 самых богатых семей и людей в Великобритании, оценочная стоимость их состояний и основной источник их богатства являются: Шри и Гопи Хиндуджа и семья - £28,47 млрд (промышленность и финансы) Сэр Джеймс Дайсон и семья - £23 млрд (товары для дома и технологии) Дэвид и Саймон Рубен и семья - £22,26 млрд (недвижимость и интернет) Сэр Леонард Блаватник - £20 млрд (инвестиции, музыка и СМИ) Гийом Пуза - £19,259 млрд (онлайн-платежи) Лакшми Миттал и семья - £17 млрд (сталь) Кристоф Хенкель и семья - £15 млрд (химикаты) Гай, Джордж, Аланна и Гален Уэстон и семья - £13,5 млрд (розничная торговля) Кирстен и Йорн Раузинг - £12 млрд (наследство и инвестиции) Шарлин де Карвалью-Хейнекен и Мишель де Карвалью — £11,42 млрд (наследство, пивоварение и банковское дело) Растущее состояние самых богатых людей Великобритании происходит на фоне растущего кризиса стоимости жизни, когда инфляция в Великобритании резко выросла до 9% в год до апреля, что означает, что цены растут самыми быстрыми темпами за последние 40 лет. ONLYWAY.NEWS | Chancellor Rishi Sunak and his wife Akshata Murty have made the Sunday Times Rich List of the UK's wealthiest 250 people for the first time. Their joint £730m fortune ranks them at 222 of the paper's annual list. The expanding fortunes of Britain's wealthiest people comes amid a growing cost of living crisis, with UK inflation rising sharply to 9% in the year to April - meaning prices are rising at their fastest rate for 40 years. According to the Sunday Times, the 10 richest families and individuals in the UK, the estimated value of their fortunes and the primary source of their wealth are: Sri and Gopi Hinduja and family - £28.47bn (industry and finance) Sir James Dyson and family - £23bn (household goods and technology) David and Simon Reuben and family- £22.26bn (property and internet) Sir Leonard Blavatnik - £20bn (investment, music and media) Guillaume Pousaz- £19.259bn (online payments) Lakshmi Mittal and family - £17bn (steel) Christoph Henkel and family - £15bn (chemicals) Guy, George, Alannah and Galen Weston and family - £13.5bn (retailing) Kirsten and Jorn Rausing - £12bn (inheritance and investment) Charlene de Carvalho-Heineken and Michel de Carvalho - £11.42bn (inheritance, brewing and banking)

[bamboomusiclist]

5/8  Pinky Winters / Let's Be Buddies jr0116  等更新しました。

おはようございます、更新完了しました。https://bamboo-music.net

Curtis Counce / Carl's Blues m3574 Barney Kessel / Reflections in Rome Lisp34012 Al Haig / Invitation ah4 Dusko Goykovich / It's About Blues Time eny48 John Coltrane / Blue Train bst81577 Cannonball Adderley / & Coltrane Ls86009/mg20449 Randy Weston / Little Niles bnla598h2 Pinky Winters / Let's Be Buddies jr0116 Eddie Jefferson / the Live Liest mr5127 Kenny Burrell / Handcrafted Mr5144 Gil Evans / st a10102 Earl & Carl Grubbs Visitors / Rebirth mr5047 Joe Hicks / Mighty Joe Hicks ens1028 Miles Davis / Bitches Brew Gq30997 Kraftwerk / Rolf & Florian vel2006 Jackie Moore / Sweet Charlie Babe sd7285 Sly and Family Stone / Stand bn26456 Steely Dan / Aja ab1006 Talking Heads / House in Motion - Air wbn17820 Ultravox / Dangerous Rhythm - My Sex wip6375

~bamboo music~ https://bamboo-music.net  info@bamboo-music.net   530-0028 大阪市北区万歳町3-41 シロノビル104号 06-6363-2700

[thestoriesincoffeestains]

Vivienne Adler | Unlock and Key

Main FC: Beth Riesgraf Younger FC: ? Older FC: Rebecca Romijn Main Verse: Seattle Sexuality: Pansexual Occupation: Private Investigator

Born on April Fool’s Day, Viv grew up thinking life was all fun and games. Every year, she sets up a more intricate prank than the last, celebrating her birthday her way. Even during serious, intense, stressful moments, Viv knows how to liven up a somber mood. Sometimes, her pranks get her into trouble, but everyone always laughs it off, knowing it’s all for fun. Whenever one of Vivienne’s friends feels down, she knows how to get them to smile.

Vivienne grew up with the best parents ever. Her dad, Dagmar, got her into swimming, turning Vivienne into a complete fish out of water. Her mother, Yvonne, got her into video games, teaching Vivienne at a young age that woman can kickass, too. 

Unfortunately, Vivienne has a tendency to lose things, especially her house keys. From the time she was in second grade, she’d lost seven keys, which inspired her how to pick locks. Whenever one of her dad’s tenants gets locked out of their apartments, Vivienne volunteers to help if her dad is busy. 

Vivienne and her childhood best friend, Dylan, first met on the school’s cheerleading squad. They have a reputation for planning and hosting the best Christmas party every year; an all-inclusive event that every member of their school dies to go to. Viv and Dylan spend all November planning it. Vivienne even has Christmas accessory for every day of December, though her elf costume is by far her favorite. She loves Halloween and, of course, April Fool’s, too. 

One day, someone broke into the spare apartment in their building her mother kept as her work office. The thief stole 16-years-worth of video games, hardware, collector’s items, and memorabilia. The police officer that arrived on the scene admitted that without evidence or leads, the case would likely go cold within 48 hours. Viv’s mom contacted a family friend, Devarshi Mili, who investigated and found the thief in less than 24 hours. After that, Viv knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. Instead of wasting money on a college degree, she shadowed Dev and earned her PI’s license.

Despite her playful demeanor, Vivienne always gives her clients the compassion and attention they deserve. One of the first cases she takes solo involves a kidnapped child. Viv learned the hard way that there’s a time and place for her child-like tendencies.

Vivienne loves peppermint, white chocolate, and gingerbread flavors. She thinks it’s ridiculous that she has to wait for the holidays for her favorite snacks and dishes, though. She usually stocks up on peppermint or chocolate-covered popcorn in December; enough to last her the year. Dev forces Viv to drink tea during their shadowing sessions (and often complained that Viv was the last person who needed caffeine), turning Viv on to loose-leaf teas. Her favorite brews are watermelon-peppermint during the summer or white chocolate peppermint during the winter. She has a Christmas music, TV show, and movie playlist she works her way through every year, too.

Vivienne gets defensive when people claim she can’t do something. She obsesses until she gets the opportunity to prove them wrong. She can’t stand bad music remixes or movie remakes. When she’s stuck on a case, Viv jumps rope instead of pacing when she can’t make it to the pool. Dev gave her a taser after she earned her PI’s license, which Viv keeps on herself at all times. She hates boy bands, bubblegum-flavored anything, and handling raw meat (especially after growing up with a vegan mom). 

Vivienne sometimes partners with Dev or Callum, another PI, as well as Detective Darcy Weston or bounty hunter Shahrzad Gahan.

[legatumrpg]

full name: greta catchlove

age: twenty-four

gender and pronouns: ciswoman and she/her/hers

blood status: muggleborn

occupation: pastry chef

affiliation: neutral

i n t r o d u c t i o n »

You struggled to fit in with the wizarding world. You always felt like you didn’t belong in this world, but the truth is, you didn’t belong in the Muggle world either. It has taken some time to find a place where you truly fit in and you still don’t know which world you fit in better. You are in your twenties, still figuring out who you are. And with the war brewing, one part of you hopes the circumstance shows your true colours, but the other part of you just wants to survive. But how can you fight a war, when the enemy seems almost impossible to identify.

b i o g r a p h y »

The night of Greta’s birth briefly set a record for coldest on record in the small town of Weston-super-Mare. She was born at home with only a midwife and her parents, Addison and Megan, in attendance. She was swaddled and placed in her mother’s arms; that night, the three of them keeping vigil in front of the fire, should have been the start of many evenings spent the same way. Tragically, only nine months after Greta’s birth, Megan was killed in an automobile accident. Growing up, her father was her world, moon, and stars. He owned a bookshop just off main street, and her earliest memories were of curling up in the children’s corner with her favorite picture books, visiting far off places and distant times. After starting primary school, she relished this ability even more; she found her classes boring and classmates boorish. Her afternoons and weekends were split between reading in the shop and cooking with her father. His ability to make his passion–the written word–his livelihood inspired her to do the same. After discovering her love of food at the age of three, she decided that she’d open her own restaurant someday and never looked back.

Besides books and her father, the other constant in her childhood was Septima. Beatriz and Addison had been childhood friends, and she was instrumental in helping him grieve after Megan’s death. He returned the favor when Septima’s father walked out seven years later. The two girls were inseparable from the start; their parents often remarked that they seemed to have their own language. Every day after primary school, they would walk down the block to Addison’s shop and spend their afternoons in the children’s nook. Magi and fantasy always had a special place in their hearts; when they were eight, they became obsessed with the Chronicles of Narnia and knocked on the back of every wardrobe they came across. Two years later, Lord of the Rings had its turn.

The summer she was eleven, Greta’s world was flipped upside down when Professor Dumbledore showed up at her door with the news she was a witch. Greta doesn’t remember much about the meeting itself, her memories lost to shock. She couldn’t imagine leaving her village, her dad, or Septima. Greta was numb after the wizard left, unable to process what she had been told. She sat on her front stoop and thought. That’s where she was when, an hour later, Septima came running around the corner to tell her the most amazing news.

Septima made finding out she was a witch worthwhile. Greta had survived eleven years without magic and didn’t see much merit in welcoming it into her life now. After all, she loved her familiar, quiet existence in the seaside village; why did things have to change? Having her best friend with her was the only way she’d agree to leave home for school. Being placed in different houses was a blow; another was learning that this world of spells and potions wasn’t so magical after all, and that some of its inhabitants treated her like a second-class citizen. She coped with the toxic rhetoric by throwing herself into her studies. For the first time in her young life, her classes actually challenged her. In primary school, she had often already learned what was being taught from the books that permeated her childhood.This wasn’t the case at Hogwarts and she thrived in the new environment. Much like the recipes she loves, magic simply takes following the instructions and executing steps well.

Socializing comes less naturally to Greta, although she enjoys getting to know people. Growing up in a small village where her father’s family had lived for generations, everyone knew everything about her before they met. She’d barely had to meet someone new in her whole life, and she was unpracticed. She saw the ability to practice one of the biggest positives of coming to Hogwarts. While not incredibly social–the result of her fairly isolated upbringing, her deep friendship with Septima, and her quiet, observant nature–that didn’t mean she disliked people. In her time at school, she had the opportunity to meet people from backgrounds entirely foreign to her. Hogwarts also provided endless opportunities for people-watching, something Greta cherishes about her post-university life in London.

After leaving Hogwarts, Greta had no idea what she wanted to do. While she had enjoyed much of her magical classes, she hadn’t found anything she could see herself doing for the rest of her life. However, the idea of returning to Weston-super-Mare no longer held much appeal for her. She decided to split the difference and enroll at the Le Cordon Bleu in London. It was a way to return to her muggle roots without completely leaving the world she had inhabited for the previous seven years. She didn’t want to entirely remove herself from the magical world, and she was hired as a pastry chef at the Leaky Cauldron after receiving her culinary diploma. It’s a job she loves in a place that she’s always felt an affinity with; like her, the pub has a foot in both muggle and magical worlds.

Always hardworking, Greta already has her eyes on the next goal. She is testing recipes and scouting locations for her own bakery in Diagon Alley. Ideally, she’d like to establish the business by the time she’s thirty.

c o n n e c t i o n s »

rita skeeter » Since they have started, you never miss a single article that they write in the Daily Prophet. You live for the drama though you never want to get involved in any of that yourself. There is a sense of admiration you have for them and maybe they will be up to giving you some writing tips down the road.

septima vector » You once asked your parents if they could adopt them but all you got was a laugh. They are far more than just a best friend to you. They know your flaws and you know their own. They are the person you apparate to at four in the morning, knowing very well that they are awake waiting for you. No one may understand the bond you have with the other and that is fine with you.

fabian prewett » In all honestly, you had thought they were their twin when you spent that night with them. It was a grave mistake that you have yet to get out of your mind. While you may want to make things right, you know that there was no going back from that. Instead, you find that the best way to solve the problem is to ignore it.

Greta Catchlove is played by MEDALION RAHIMI and is TAKEN

[emeryweston-blog]

( ALICIA VIKANDER, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) — EMERY WESTON is a TWENTY-NINE year old living in Boston. SHE has been here for FOUR YEARS as a WRITER. Though PESSIMISTIC, SHE is also SPONTANEOUS. Their morning drink is an ICED QUAD SHOT AMERICANO.

guten tag, boys. i’m luna and i’ll be playing this sarcastic little grump, emery. i don’t have a connections page yet because i’m lazy, but if you’ve got one, link me or we can brainstorm a connection! anyway, read more about emery under the cut (while i go dive into the intro tag like scrooge mcduck): 

CHILDHOOD

emery grew up in sunny las vegas, nevada, far enough from the strip to avoid the constant throng of drunken tourists, but close enough to its unmistakable glare of bright lights. as a child, she was precocious, always wanting to learn more about the people and things around her. she babbled frequently, always trying to piece words and sentences together, long before she could fully make sense of them.

her childhood was normal enough, but quickly became complicated when her father was injured in a workplace accident when she was 14 years old. the repercussions resulted in hefty medical and rehabilitation bills, as well as familial tensions.

eager to escape the angst at home, her older brother enrolled in the army a year later and shipped out on active duty. and the blows kept coming. her mother lost her job to a factory closure and, along with it, the sole income for their family, apart from the disability checks they received from the government and what was left of her father’s insurance settlement.

unable to pay the mortgage on the family home, they moved into a smaller place. emery’s mother would go on to win the lottery the next year — a cool (and impressively timed) $500,000, which she blew in a matter of months after bills and loans were paid. soon the family was back to square one.

ADULTHOOD

emery worked odd jobs, from walking dogs to handing out flyers on the strip to flipping burgers to help out. she earned herself a criminal record when she was 17 with a petty theft charge after she was caught shoplifting, which cut her job options down considerably. her juvenile record was sealed by the courts when she was 21, around the time she wound up working at a motel off the strip as a housekeeper.

over the course of her time working at the motel, she saw far too much to even be phased by anything anymore. bodily fluids? check. drug deals? check. hoarders? check. the odd dead body? check. her experience working at the motel helped to shape the work that would become her first novel, which she worked on, on and off, for several years.

on a whim, emery did some research and contacted numerous literary agents and never heard back. dejected, she gave up on the process for a while, choosing to focus her energy on her day job and just getting by. it would be eight months before an agent would reach out and she would grow a partnership with them.

her brother returned home from his tour and went to work off the coast of louisiana on an oil rig and sending money home to help with the care of their father. seeing an opportunity, emery made the decision to move to boston to increase her prospects of being published, and to stay with an old friend from high school.

BOSTON

emery slept on her friend’s couch for a few months as she worked on fixing up her first draft of her novel, and went back to the old practice of taking whatever jobs came her way to keep her afloat: dog walking, bartending, temping. 

her first novel, into the void, a psychosexual thriller about a hotel maid that spies on guests, was published three years ago. her publishing house sent her on a regional book tour around northeastern states to promote it. 

the book sold well, despite its mixed reviews. it was nominated for an edgar award but lost out.

emery is currently at work with her agent to come up with something for her second novel. the publisher wants to capitalize on the fifty shades craze, and is pushing her to go in that direction, wanting something a bit more salacious to sell.

PERSONALITY

emery is a pessimistic garbage can who is just trying to get through life. she's determined not to squander her chances with her publisher, so she’s regularly posted up at the library or boston brew shotgunning coffee and trying her best to get some writing done. her foray into writing started in a coffee shop back in vegas, and so she finds that she can’t write in silence, preferring the cozy, bustling environment of a cafe.

it’s generally a good idea to keep out of her swinging distance. there’s a lot of rage in her little 5′2″ frame, especially when provoked. she has some soft spots, though ⏤ you just have to search for them. she’s spontaneous, has a sharp tongue, and doesn’t shy away from going after what (or who) she wants.

[justnotcricket]

Match Report: 25/11/17 WASTCA One-Day Div 2

Fremantle (8/241) def Subi Marist (9/163)

Mann Oval is a cricket ground in miniature. A tiny oval, a small man’s oval. An oval for small men… and for some, this was the first homecoming since the horrific ‘Mann Oval Massacre’…

When I arrived at the venue the last surviving veterans were at the Mosman Park Bowling Club, emotional wounds still so raw as to suggest they were drinking to forget…

Legend has it, in the first meeting between the recently estranged Fremantle Mosman Park One Day team and it’s previous fraternal masters, Sub Marist, tensions were at an all time high.

The rebellious FMPCC were looking to make a point of their desertion, and SMCC still hurt and reeling from the betrayal of their brothers, were determined to see them put in their place.

With plenty of pregame banter, the Pirates won the toss, elected to bat, and after all manner of failure, proceeded to shuffle like they had ne’er shuffled before. Subi’s opening bowler took 4 wickets and they were all out for 71.

It must have been mortifying.

Matty Angus, then captain of Subi Marist [!!!], smelled blood, promoted himself to number 3, [wasn’t required], and the opening batsmen made the runs in less than 5 overs.

Retribution. Merciless, and swift in its brutal execution. No wonder it still smarts, and is spoken of in hushed tones to this day…

Ray on the other hand, spared the indignity, wistfully reminisced about the time he won the Fred Mann Medal in under 12’s back in the 1930’s, and you felt like his was a different sort of homecoming; a washed out sky, the spires of Norfolk Pines piercing the lilac haze of Jacaranda, littered with mid twentieth century apartments where the poor people used to live. He was home, this was his country...

He then went on to joke about how Liz had some One Day International tickets, and was excited to be finally seeing some ‘real cricket’…

I’m not sure what she means by that.

What does she mean by that!?!

Sure, in second division no one ever really gives LBW, or stumpings for example, but for us the game is played with as much passion and rivalry as any Ashes Series.

Smith had just made a game-changing ton for Australia in Brisbane, and in our minds, we were there with him, facing every ball, grinding it out, warding off defeat, and sharing the triumph… 

Well, Dave Barratt was anyway. Still smarting from the slight of alleged boringness, strode out to the crease with the kind of steely determination that was ultimately even more boring.

We had won the toss and were batting.

Quinny at the other end, couldn’t help but entertain. Everyone loves a clown, but spare a thought for the sad man, whose heart and soul goes to making other men laugh.  

It’s a tough gig, and he does all his own slapstick…

Dubois opened the bowling with a haircut that would have looked quite handsome on a middle-aged woman from Claremont. Quinny blanched.

Elliot from the other, pranced in a merry dance from side on of the wicket. It was a fancy action; with a one, two, three, arms into 5th position, skip, hop, slide… and bowl. In my mind, I even see the tu-tu.

It was so distracting and Quinny had no option than to hit him down the ground. 

Dave Barratt turned 4’s into twos, and 2’s into 1’s and scintillating cricket into an afternoon nap. Quin farmed himself the strike to stay alert.

Broad shouldered Jonny came on to bowl, carrying the ball with a forward wrist that hung before his groin like a pendulous seedpod. It was kind of erotic in a way I can’t quite put my finger in.

Quinny rocked back and cut his first delivery, and followed it with a later cut, two balls later in fact.

Dave Barratt kept it sensible, head down, nothing silly, and was about as much fun as senior public servant ever really can be.

He did bring up the 50 off 10 overs but was caught for 18, closing a 63 run opening partnership.

Meanwhile, Australia approached the English total… in no small part due to Dave’s empathetic connection with the Australian captain.

I came in at number 3, and was feeling good. I saw the ball well, played some nice shots and some even more beautiful leaves, until Wynne came on and served a selection of fruity mince pies: my weakness at this time of year.

Our thinking was it was better to have Joe umpiring out in the middle annoying the opposition, than in the shed annoying us. It proved to be an oversight.

He gave me LBW with my back leg in the air to a high bouncing ball still in its way up!?! I think he fired me before it even connected…

Does he know I’m on our selection committee? Does he know I write the match report? Is the guy A COMPLETE IDIOT!?!

In the moment, I may have said a few harsh words that I will come to regret, but now that I have taken some time to think reasonably about this and let my emotions cool, I think it is time we fucked him off all together. 

It wasn’t the incorrectness of the decision, [Quinny said it was plumb, and I was playing across the line…again], but it was the sheer enjoyment of giving me out. Like he vicariously took the wicket!?! ‘How is that?’ he grinned!

You can get away with being a shit bloke like Darrell if we are really short of bowlers but not when you are in the team as part of the clubs ‘new member drive’.

I was out on 13. Unlucky for some...

Joe Dirt specifically.

He’ll be going for some long walks out of the nets on Tuesday, which will do us both good, I need to vent and he needs the exercise.

JL came in looking as relaxed as a man three beers in by midday, and set about constructing an innings. At drinks, we were two for 93. Quinny was on 49 and Australia lead by 29 runs.

Darrell made a great brew, only lacking rum and a can of Emu Export, [according to Quinny], who brought up his 50 with a couple of boundaries over mid wicket and one down the ground to take 17 runs from an over by Cranley.

Their bowling stocks largely turned to laughing stocks as Jonny fatigued and started bowling wides, or short and outside off; easy to cut, or rock back and square drive, and the boys made hay while the sun shone.

Joe, fixating on the edge of the skinny little pitch, called no ball after no ball, until the opposing Captain started to complain about the stultifying level of officiation…

‘Sorry mate, we know...’

Harley came on to bowl and Quinny was uncharacteristically patient. He was in his nervous 70’s and maybe this would be the day to convert a healthy start into a milestone century.

Harley also looked like he was in his 70’s, with even less chance of making it to 100, especially after dropping a caught and bowled attempt that could probably kill a man of his age.

JL hit one over the fence, which on a backyard ground such as this, and with calls of ‘lost ball’, surely must be 6 and out. Once the ball had been recovered, play resumed and he brought up with the 150 with a 4 that very nearly landed in a passing pram.

I’m not an expert, but surely this kind of behaviour deviates from the standard INTJ on the MBTI, and clearly indicates psychopathic tendencies.

You can imagine careers day back in high school: ‘Has he considered corporate law, Mrs Little?’

Don’t get me wrong; he also played some beautiful cut shots and fine glances off his legs. But he would then tease the fielders spooning it just in front of them, while calling, ‘Yes!’

Like the kind of kid that pulls the wings off flies...

Quinny hit a big six, fell over, was nearly stumped, fell out of a building, ducked under plank, and was run over by a little red car giggling with midgets.

Or at least that’s how I remember his innings.

JL brought up his 50 with a pull shot square of the wicket, and raised his bat, almost in remorse and embarrassment for the bowlers, almost as if remorse was in his emotional range. He then hit a six into someone’s front yard, narrowly missing their new car.

They brought up a 100 run partnership before Joe gave Quinny out, stumped on 92. I mean seriously…

Did the other team give stumpings, or run outs? No they did not.

Gobsmacked at this turn of events, we quickly lost three wickets in an over. Shrugger skied it for a golden duck. Darrell got in on the action and fired JLBW:

Justin Little Before Wicket.

New batsmen, Nav and Matty made running between wickets look like a choreographed WWE fight sequence; ducks, feints, a mid pitch clothes-lining and direct hit from the deep to remove Angus.

Ray was caught and Harley got a 5 for!

The old man can die happy. His life’s work complete…

The collapse only slowed when Weston smashed an edge to the keeper that JL signaled wide.  Sheepishly, he went on to hit two sixes to finish.

And that… is how umpiring is done in this competition.

Darrell padded up and walked out to the middle, watched Leon hit the maximums, and walked back without contribution, and was as graceful and humble about it, as you can imagine…

Other non-contributors included Joe, who was preparing to bat by doing throw downs with his son... AND DOING THE THROWING!?!

At least he was wearing actual pads, I suppose. To throw in.

We finished with a mighty 8 for 241 off the full 35 overs. What a difference 20 years makes. How the tides had turned! With the pirate flag flying from the shelter, tea was more like a family picnic if you were raised by bikie gang or an Islamic death cult. Quinny recounted the negotiations required to acquire the flag from an 8-year-old girl’s tree house.

‘Please just take the flag. And promise you will never try to make contact with our mother again…’

It was always going to be a difficult chase, and we gave them as many chances in the field as is sporting, but they lost wickets regularly and never really looked like a chance.

Darrell opened the bowling and had spat the dummy by his second over. Ray attempted to talk him down from mid on, counseling him between bursts of expletives, but it was to no avail.

He bowled 6 overs before refusing to bowl any more, frustratingly, with half decent figures of 1 for 25. 

Mind you, the only reason he still gets selected is because he’s a carrying member of a gun club, and no one has the courage to tell him otherwise.

Ray opened with a spell from the other end bowling 7 overs 1 for 34, and really should bowl more. Matt bowled 7 overs and 2 for 42 before he did a hammy and was forced to limp the plank.

Joe bowled a 20-ball two over spell. His first 11 ball over for went 10 runs, and the second; a tidy 6 by comparison, to finish with 0 for 16. Another couple of overs and he would have bowled the standard 42 balls.

I suppose if you are not going to get another over, you might as well make it last. Number 2 bowled both kinds of music: Leon, and Weston to finish with 1 for 4 off 1. Another under utilised resource.

Pedestrian Dave bowled 5 overs and took 2 for 13 at the death, [6 of those being wides] and closed out the game bowling to Lowther.

I couldn’t help myself: I was rooting for underdog, even if he had done a little poo in his pants.

He carried his bat as they ran out of overs with only 161 on the board and we won by nearly 80 runs.

The Crownies came out in the golden light of the setting sun, and the fines session was like a roll call of dropped sitters on the boundary:

Matty Angus [present], JL [present], Nav [present], Darrell?

Darrell had gone home…

Alex Quin won the ‘Hot for 12 Cold for 24’ award for his massive knock and in a move that can only be described as Jack Sparrow-esque, then spun the wheel back at the club to win the meat raffle.

It was truly his day… and a convincing win to seal 4 in a row. With as many wins as losses behind us, we have leapt from the bottom of the ladder, and into the 4.  

Our focus will now have to shift from ‘access and inclusivity’, to qualifying our best players for finals.

Which leaves two questions on everybody’s lips...

Is this curtains for Joe Dirt?

And how many holes in a straw?

[kansascityhappenings]

Zip Trip: Four places you have to stop at during a trip to Weston

WESTON, Mo. — If you are looking for a fun day trip in the Kansas City area to take with your family, look no further than Weston, Missouri.

This historic town dates back to Lewis and Clark, who came through the area in 1804. Weston used to be the final town many pioneers would stop in to gather supplies before heading out into the country “West-On”.

It’s thrived all these years to become a fun bed-and-breakfast community with unique bars, plenty of wine and lots of music.

If you visit, there are four places you must-see. The first is the Holladay Distillery. It’s right outside of town.

The first must-see stop is the Holladay Distillery

Ben Holladay founded the distillery in 1856. At that same time, he owned the largest stagecoach company in the United States.

He and his brother discovered some the limestone springs in the area were perfect for making whiskey – whiskey better than that made in Kentucky.

“We have over 160 years of history,” Holladay Distillery employee Jordan Germano said. “We’ve actually been recognized by the Kansas City business journal as the oldest continually operating business in the Kansas City area. There is so, so much to see out here. anything from our water source all the way to how we make our product to where we bottle it.”

They recently opened an event space on the grounds for free liquor tasting, and they give tours of their facility. They stopped making bourbon years ago but recently resumed the process with the original recipe, hoping to begin sell bottles of it real soon.

Stop number two is Weston’s Red Barn Farm

Another must-see is Weston’s Red Barn Farm. For thirty years families have been going there to learn about agriculture and farm animals. They have horses, cows, chickens, pigs and other animals, and they harvest apples and pumpkins in the fall.

“Kids don’t get a lot of information about agriculture this generation, and it’s fun to share it with folks,” owner Steve Frey said. “There aren’t a lot of grandma type farms you can go visit, and so this gives them a chance to put what they’re learning to read with what’s here, so we have a lot of families come out to the farm.”

The third must-see stop on the list the Green Dirt Farm.

Many families also love visiting the Green Dirt Farm . For the last eleven years, the owners have been milking sheep on a farm in Weston. It’s one of the only farms in the United States that milks sheep, and they make cheese with it.

That type of sheep cheese is very popular in Europe but is very rare in the United States.

A tour of the creamery costs $15, and it includes tasting the eight different types of sheep cheese they make at their creamery. They also have a restaurant where you can swing by for a bite to eat.

The fourth must-see stop is O’Malley’s underground pub.

And one of the most unique places to visit is O’Malley’s Pub. Connected to the Weston Brewing Company, O’Malley’s is one of the only underground pubs in the entire nation. Back in 1842 they fermented beer in the underground limestone cave because the temperature stayed a constant 55-degrees. Today, they use it as a pub, and musicians from all over the world come here to play. The owner says he loves living in Weston.

“Weston is one of those towns where there just aren’t many places left that are like it,” Michael Coakley said. “Small town. Bucolic. We have our nice little main street. A great place to raise kids. We’ve kind of stopped in time in some ways and it’s really hard to get that back, so a super special place.”

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/05/17/zip-trip-four-places-you-have-to-stop-at-during-a-trip-to-weston/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/05/17/zip-trip-four-places-you-have-to-stop-at-during-a-trip-to-weston/

[runawayforthesummer]

Chapter 29: Tortoise and Hare

AND WE’RE BACK.

Where were we?

Let me tell you, I did not miss this boring book at all! 

Hamilton is at his meeting in Amboy, where the German general won’t meet with just an aide.

These aristocrats! Alex thought with some annoyance.  Their infatuation with rank and face make their own lives ridiculously difficult!  And even worse, they don’t recognize how it inconveniences the lives of the rest of us.

Yeah, uh-huh, says the dude OBSESSED with this stuff.

Ham is mad his meeting on trading prisoners is such a wash, especially because it means troops will suffer longer.

But what made everything worse was that now he had no excuse to stay away from Morristown, which meant that he would be in town when Eliza married that Livingston bounder.

Ah, yes, your romantic problems are much worse than being a prisoner of war! 

Larpent, of course, is excited because it means he’ll get to attend Henry’s bachelor party. They ride back to Morristown through the rain and find the Ford mansion empty, without any fires lit.

Ham is pissed and collapses on his bed, making Larpent start a fire for him. I bet Larpent is pissed about his rank and having to do everything you say, Hamilton!

Alex hardly noticed him.  He had shucked off his wet coat and rolled himself in his blanket like a caterpillar wrapping itself in silk, his head buried beneath his pillow.  With one half-open eye he watched as Larpent knelt before the grate, expertly arranging wood shavings and splinter into a neat cone, then striking the flint against steel in steady streams of sparks.

Why don’t you help him so it goes faster????

[Alex] had failed at today’s mission, had failed at securing a command, had failed at winning the hand of the girl he loved.

1. Well that was sort of your fault, I guess.

2. You got the command but something else came up.

3. You got the girl but her family got in the way.  I mean, I guess you don’t know this part but you could probably figure it out if you thought about it for two seconds.

….I can’t believe I’m trying to bolster Alexander Hamilton’s self-confidence.

Me @ me: STOP

Larpent changes and goes to find them something to eat but comes up empty.  Of course. 

And like I think we all know they’re at Henry’s party.  But I HIGH KEY do not believe George Washington would be there or that the house would be empty.  Whatever.

“I say, sir, why don’t you come along to the party?  There’ll be food there and wine and good cheer, and you look as thought you could use all three.”

Alex couldn’t help but laugh.  “Go to my rival’s pre-wedding celebration.  Yes, that does sound like a fine time.”

Yeah, that was pretty dumb to suggest, Larpent.

“You wouldn’t have to see him, Colonel.  The party’s in the barn by Gareth’s Field.  It’s a huge building.  You can keep as far from him as you like.”

Hamilton, of course, remembers that’s where the Infirmary was and gets very upset when Larpent tells him the wards were moved to a brothel. 

Hamilton decides the correct thing to do is…

“I’ll call him out!”  Alex hurriedly pulled at his pistol.  “I’ll change him to a duel.  Don’t you see, if he’s dead he can’t marry Eliza!”

JFC.

You know how some people think the Hamilton-Burr duel was over a woman?  Guess Melissa de la Cruz heard about that and decided to use it here.

Larpent tells Hamilton that’s a shitty idea and Ham agrees, except that what he’ll do instead is make Livingston challenge him to a duel instead of the other way around.

“You know those milquetoast aristocrats!  They cannot bear to lose face in front of their peers, but even less so in front of their inferiors!”

….sounds like two guys I know in 1804.

Do you ever wish someone had been at the duel and yelled at Burr and Hamilton about fighting like when Big and Aiden got into that fight on Sex and the City and Carrie was like “YOU’RE MIDDLE AGED!”? 

I do!

Larpent is still like: nah, bro.  Your girl chose him.  Suck it up.

Larpent was right; Eliza had accepted Livingston’s proposal, while he, Alex, had never even proposed.

The moron then realizes that’s the problem!  He let Angelica talk him out of it.

Who was he to think he could be worthy of such a girl as Eliza Schuyler?  An American princess.

But the thought of that bright, wonderful girl marrying that slug filled him with an intoxicating brew of anger and hope that he picked up his pace, grabbing his damp hat from the tree in the hall and dashing out the front door.

Maybe it wasn’t too late.  Maybe he could still do something about it.  Call the man out, duel him for her honor.

It was his last chance to save Eliza.  To save himself.

Ok, see, why does he still think he needs to duel?  Why doesn’t he just go and at least talk to Eliza.  So much has changed in the story, they might as well go elope too!

Also, my god, can he not white knight like this?  Let Eliza save herself.  Damn.

Hamilton and Larpent arrive at the barn but he cannot find Henry Livingston.

BTW there are strippers at this party.  Everyone is drunk and he runs into Corporal Weston and finds out Livingston is gone.

“Gone!  But isn’t he to be married to Miss Schuyler tomorrow?” Alex demanded, his frustration rising.

Stop taking it out on innocent drunks, Hamilton!

But then Weston tells him some dreadful news: Eliza has eloped.  Alex tries to correct him that it was Angelica, but Weston is certain.

“Miss Elizabeth Schuy’er, and I know she eloped.  Gone since yes’erday mor’ing.”