cornerofmadness: Angel in drag holding up cards (Default)
[personal profile] cornerofmadness posting in [community profile] halfamoon
Title: Flight

author: [personal profile] cornerofmadness

Fandom Hazbin Hotel

Characters/Pairings Emily, Molly (and Sir Pentious)

Summary: After her injury, Emily has to adjust to having a new wing. The prospect of using it turns out to be scarier than she expected. Luckily she has friends at her side.

Rating: teen

Warnings: mentions of injury, anxiety

Find the story here on AO3.

Happy February!

Feb. 1st, 2026 03:37 pm
stonepicnicking_okapi: heart shaped tree (hearttree)
[personal profile] stonepicnicking_okapi
Happy February!



What is going on in February? Black History Month, Groundhog Day (early spring, please!), Valentine's Day, Lunar New Year, Snow Moon, Mardi Gras, and Ash Wednesday and Lent, and in our household, the boys' father's birthday.

And I am going to attempt a February LOVE-FEST of prompts.

Safety

Feb. 1st, 2026 02:58 pm
ysabetwordsmith: Cats playing with goldfish (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
Middle age is becoming a breaking point in the U.S.

For many Americans, midlife is no longer a plateau—it’s a pressure point.

Middle age is becoming a tougher chapter for many Americans, especially those born in the 1960s and early 1970s. Compared with earlier generations, they report more loneliness and depression, along with weaker physical strength and declining memory. These troubling trends stand out internationally, as similar declines are largely absent in other wealthy nations, particularly in Nordic Europe, where midlife well-being has improved
.


The article actually said most of what I would've said regarding causes and solutions. One thing it missed: the sandwich effect. Middle-age adults, mostly but not exclusively women, often become responsible for aging parents as well as children. It's actually worse for the few male caregivers: almost all of the rare support programs serve only female caregivers.  Even if they're permitted in, being the only man in a group of women can feel more isolating than just staying home.
fox_in_me: fox.in.me (Default)
[personal profile] fox_in_me


📝 Оригинальный текст записи
В тот вечер мороз опустился до −10. Выпало много снега, а проблемы с энергетикой всё так же тяжело и безысходно висели над городом.
Во время воздушных тревог вызвать такси почти невозможно: большинство водителей приезжие, они работают по навигатору, а во время тревоги он просто не работает.
Я давно не видел, как люди останавливают машины, «голосуя рукой», как раньше - ещё в детстве. Сейчас, когда кто-то так делает, я почти всегда понимаю: что-то случилось. Или человеку очень срочно.
И я стараюсь остановиться.
Так было и в тот вечер.
В свете встречных фар - без уличных фонарей и светофоров - я увидел девушку на остановке. Она ловила машину рукой.
Время было не самым поздним: вечерний час пик почти закончился, а из-за гололёда дороги были непривычно свободны. Я остановился, открыл окно - но она сразу села в машину. Это удивило: она даже не спросила, по пути ли нам.
Так совпало, что я ехал именно в её сторону.
Только когда она села, я заметил: осенние сапоги, очень кроткая юбка, одежда совсем не для зимы.
Так одеваются не потому, что не думают.
Дороги никто не спешил расчищать, поэтому я ехал очень осторожно - боялся не столько машин, сколько внезапно появляющихся пешеходов, которые то и дело перебегали дорогу в темноте. Всё это - под тихую инструментальную музыку, как будто кто-то специально поставил фон для разговора, который ещё не начался.
Девушка быстро разговорилась. Она была взволнована: опаздывала на встречу, такси не приехало, она просто замёрзла, стоя на остановке и ожидая неизвестно чего. Тепло в машине быстро согрело её - и за пять минут я услышал огромный поток жизни: откуда она, где живёт, что у неё происходит и чего она на самом деле хочет.
Я верю, что такие встречи не случайны.
Иногда именно они дают начало движению - не внешнему, а внутреннему. Когда что-то внутри наконец сдвигается с места.
В тот момент я и сам был не в лучшей форме.
Я был в состоянии, когда слова даются тяжело, а мысли слишком громкие. Когда внутри холоднее, чем снаружи, и ты уже не очень понимаешь, зачем продолжаешь держаться ровно. Я почти не говорил о себе, мне не хотелось, да и нужды небыло.
Я слушал. А потом начал задавать ей самые простые вопросы - не поучая и не убеждая, а будто вслух думая вместе с ней:
- почему ты ищешь опору в ком-то, заранее делая себя зависимой?
- зачем тебе одобрение со стороны, если решение уже принято?
- если есть страх - значит, там, куда ты хочешь, есть опыт. Почему бы не попробовать?
- если есть цель, зачем сейчас думать о сложностях, до которых ещё далеко? Главное - начать. Дальше будет видно.
Ехать пришлось больше сорока минут - сквозь темноту, лёд, дымящиеся канализационные люки.
Она рассказывала, что хочет выехать с ребёнком за границу. Даже имея здесь неплохую работу, она понимает: можно дать больше - и себе, и ребёнку. В хорошем возрасте начать новую жизнь. Перестать сидеть в квартирах и подвалах без света и тепла. Нормально спать. И, в конце концов, почувствовать, что значит - когда уважают то, что ты человек.
Она преподаватель в частной школе. Я знаю один очень удачный пример - близкий мне человек уже больше трёх лет живёт в Эстонии с ребёнком, начав там практически с нуля и имея сегодня больше, чем за всю жизнь здесь.
Мне просто хотелось поддержать эту девушку / женщину.
Через полчаса мне казалось, будто мы знакомы давно: столько она успела рассказать о себе. Но сути это не меняло. Я продолжал задавать простые вопросы, иногда просто молчал и слушал, не ставя перед собой никакой цели.
Ближе к месту назначения она сказала, куда едет, и что ребёнок остался с соседями - в том самом одесском доме, где соседи как родные. Где могут прийти без приглашения на обед или ужин, принести еды, поддержать.
Она ехала вечером заработать немного денег, чтобы всё-таки воплотить своё стремление в реальность. Начать жизнь заново.
Я мог лишь поддержать её.
В ответ она сказала, что очень эмпатична, и хоть я почти ничего не говорил о себе, она почувствовала: у меня внутри погода намного хуже, чем на улице.
Глаза, сказала она, это выдают даже в темноте.
Иногда достаточно просто остановиться.
Когда я довёз её до нужного дома, она улыбалась. Просто поблагодарила за то, что я остановился - и за то, что помог ей поверить в себя и свои силы. Наверное, это и правда важно.
Мне самому очень не хватает таких разговоров.
Когда можно с кем-то, кроме котов, просто поговорить о том, что тревожит внутри.
Такие встречи появляются в самый нужный момент.
И, может быть, мой ещё впереди.

Note translated in assistance with AI.

That evening the temperature dropped to −10. A lot of snow fell, and the problems with energy supply were still hanging heavily and hopelessly over the city.
During air raid alerts it’s almost impossible to call a taxi: most drivers are from out of town, they work using navigation, and during an alert it simply doesn’t work.

I hadn’t seen people stopping cars by “raising a hand” for a long time — like before, back in childhood. Now, when someone does this, I almost always understand: something has happened. Or it’s very urgent for them.
And I try to stop.

That’s how it was that evening.

In the light of oncoming headlights — without streetlights or traffic signals — I saw a girl at a bus stop. She was trying to catch a car with her hand.

It wasn’t very late: the evening rush hour was almost over, and because of the ice the roads were unusually empty. I stopped and opened the window — but she got into the car right away. That surprised me: she didn’t even ask if we were going in the same direction.
It just so happened that I was heading exactly where she needed to go.

Only after she got in did I notice: autumn boots, a very short skirt, clothes completely unsuited for winter.
People dress like that not because they don’t think.

No one was in a hurry to clear the roads, so I drove very carefully — afraid not so much of cars as of pedestrians suddenly appearing and running across the road in the dark. All of this was accompanied by quiet instrumental music, as if someone had deliberately chosen a background for a conversation that hadn’t yet begun.

She started talking quickly. She was agitated: she was late for a meeting, the taxi didn’t arrive, she had simply frozen while standing at the bus stop and waiting for who knows what.
The warmth of the car quickly warmed her up — and within five minutes I heard a huge stream of life: where she was from, where she lived, what was happening in her life, and what she truly wanted.

I believe such meetings are not accidental.
Sometimes they are exactly what gives rise to movement — not external, but internal. When something inside finally shifts.

At that moment, I myself wasn’t in the best shape.
I was in a state where words come with difficulty and thoughts are too loud. When it’s colder inside than outside, and you no longer quite understand why you keep holding yourself together. I hardly talked about myself — I didn’t want to, and there was no need.

I listened. And then I began asking her the simplest questions — not teaching, not convincing, but as if thinking out loud together with her:

— why do you look for support in someone else, making yourself dependent in advance?
— why do you need approval from others if the decision has already been made?
— if there is fear, it means that where you want to go there is experience. Why not try?
— if there is a goal, why think now about the difficulties that are still far ahead? The main thing is to start. The rest will become clear.

The drive took more than forty minutes — through darkness, ice, and steaming manholes.

She talked about wanting to leave the country with her child. Even having a decent job here, she understands: it’s possible to give more — to herself and to the child. To start a new life at a good age. To stop sitting in apartments and basements without light and heat. To sleep properly. And finally, to feel what it means when being a human being is respected.

She is a teacher at a private school. I know a very successful example — someone close to me has been living in Estonia with a child for more than three years now, having started almost from zero there and today having more than in an entire lifetime here.

I simply wanted to support this girl / woman.

After half an hour it felt as if we had known each other for a long time — she had managed to tell me so much about herself. But that didn’t change the essence. I continued to ask simple questions, sometimes just silently listening, without setting any goal for myself.

Closer to the destination she told me where she was going, and that her child was staying with neighbors — in that very Odesa building where neighbors are like family. Where they can come over for lunch or dinner without an invitation, bring food, offer support.

She was going out that evening to earn a little money in order to finally turn her aspiration into reality. To start life anew.

All I could do was support her.

In response she said that she was very empathetic, and although I had almost said nothing about myself, she felt that the weather inside me was much worse than outside.
The eyes, she said, give it away even in the dark.

Sometimes it’s enough just to stop.

When I drove her to the right building, she was smiling. She simply thanked me for stopping — and for helping her believe in herself and her own strength. Maybe that really matters.

I myself really lack such conversations.
When you can talk to someone — other than cats — about what worries you inside.
Such meetings appear at exactly the right moment.
And maybe mine is still ahead.

Birdfeeding

Feb. 1st, 2026 01:49 pm
ysabetwordsmith: Cats playing with goldfish (Default)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
Today is partly cloudy and cold.

I fed the birds.  I've seen a large flock of sparrows, two starlings, a male cardinal, and a wren.  The sparrows are widely foraging on the ground under bushes. 

I put out water for the birds.

EDIT 2/1/26 -- I did a bit of work around the patio.

I refilled the hopper feeder.

EDIT 2/1/26 -- I did more work around the patio.

I put out more birdseed.

EDIT 2/1/26 -- I did more work around the patio.

I am done for the night.

January book bingo

Feb. 1st, 2026 07:26 pm
tellshannon815: (nadia)
[personal profile] tellshannon815


Graphic novel or comic: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/232479447-fate
No sex/romance: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/77661.The_Daughter_of_Time
Novella: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/201750645-queen-b

Substitution list:
*Over 300 Pages
*Book in Series
*LGBTQ+
*Recommended
*POC Author
*Multiple POVs - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/81307313-the-birthday-reunion
*Classic/Retelling
*Sci-fi/Fantasy
*Free Space
*Anthology/Collection
*Biography/Memoir
*Friendship
*Name in the Title
*Movie/TV Tie-in
*With a Woman Protagonist
*From the Library
*Thriller/Suspense
*Set Somewhere You've Been
*Non-Human POV
*Fairy Tale or Fairy Tale Retelling
*Under 100 Pages - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/230824619-death-row
*Romance Plot or Sub-plot
*Translated
*With a Blue Cover - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/213713209-the-wasp-trap
*Horror or Paranormal - https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/203578707-what-the-woods-took
*Colour in the Title
*Seasonal Read
*Number in title
*Three word title
*Craft, Hobby or Cookbook
*Written by an author from your state or country
*Animal on the cover
*Disability or Mental health
*Read a book from the year you were born
*Mythology
*Title begins with first letter of your name
*Dystopian
*Book mentioned in another book
*Diverse reads
*One word title
*Award Winning/Bestseller
*Disabled Author
*Non-western Setting
*Set in your state/country
*Title is at Least Five Words Long
*Indigenous author
*Has illustrations (but not a comic or graphic novel)
*Re-read

A cornucopia of crap

Feb. 1st, 2026 02:31 pm
somedayseattle: scared baby (Default)
[personal profile] somedayseattle
1-when I was in the hospital, I was pleasantly surprised by the number of people who reached out. A few of them came by to say hello in person, and a pile of them texted me. Either way it was more than I had hoped for. I left the hospital paralyzed in a wheelchair. That’s been two years now. In that time, the only people who have contacted me to ask about my recovery or my two dear friends, Dewey Bill (who has own battle to fight right now) and Da Bossman. Other people ask me when I speak to them, but no one has reached out and asked. I’m especially disappointed in Dr. Watson. He was extremely depressed due to his wife’s passing a year or two earlier so I got him a job at Da Park. He told me it changed his life ('my new normal") and it was the therapy he needed. Since I’ve been back From the hospital, he rarely texts me even though I text him often, sending memes and jokes. He never gives me updates about to Da Park. Most of the time now I feel lost and abandoned by everyone. When I was in the hospital, I was a rockstar, now I’m as irrelevant as those old farts who sang Macarena. This is not a call for sympathy....just a windbag venting.

2-I woke up this morning with huge blisters on both of my big toes. Being a guy I of course popped them. They’re quickly filling up with the second load of pus (also the name of my new band) Dr. Google says it may be an infections or perhaps a side product of diabetes. Goddamnit. It’s always something.

3-when I left the hospital, my legs were 100% dead. Eight or nine months later, one of my toes began to move. Then I was able to clench my butt cheeks. Bit by but each of the joints return. Everything below my waist is now functioning. I walk a little bit with the walker, but it’s hindered by the swelling at the bottom of my feet as well as Da 'Itis in my knees. If not for those two issues, I would be full-time using a walker. So it makes perfect sense that nowadays I’m suffering from Restless Leg Syndrome. My legs bounces uncontrollably every moment I’m awake. From dead to overactive. From 0 to 60. Just another float in Da Weirdness Parade.

4-On Thursday, the weather dummies predicted 9 inches of snow for Raleigh. The snow was to start Saturday morning and last all weekend. As the day progressed, the snow did not. Eventually, last night about an inch fell. A far cry from the 9 inches predicted. I saw a radar shot that showed the storm approaching Raleigh then splitting in half and going over around us. Once it got pass Raleigh, the two separate storms combined again into one. Even the weather hates Raleigh. It reminds me of me at a junior high school dance. Small groups of cute girls walk towards me, separate and get back together behind me with . Almost as if I was a girl repellent. At this point I am 1000% convinced the weather dummies are in cahoots with the grocery stores.
potentiality_26: (Default)
[personal profile] potentiality_26 posting in [community profile] halfamoon
Title: Red and Cold
Fandom: Frankenstein 2025
Pairing/Characters: Elizabeth Harlander, light Elizabeth/the Creature 
Rating: PG
Summary: More than a ghost.
A/N: I've been wanting to write something about Elizabeth since I saw the movie, and the prompt "The Innocent" really reminded me of her. Also fills my 100ships table prompt #09 (Arctic).

Red and Cold )
  

rebeccmeister: (Default)
[personal profile] rebeccmeister
I want to jot down a couple notes to myself about things before moving on to other projects.

As the subject line notes, this weekend's cooking is a bit different from the usual. For one thing, I am cooking up a bean soup from a mix given to me by a family member for Christmas. I don't usually cook things from mixes like this one, but on the other hand, since I have it, I might as well cook it up and eat it. I'm not going to be adding the "optional" ham hock, however. I'll also bake some cornbread from an accompanying cornbread mix. Good enough for dinner for the week.

I also prepared a batch of homemade mustard. I need to record some notes to myself about that. I have a recipe in my recipe files for "Spicy Beer Mustard," which I think I found and first tried out back when I was living in Texas. I can't remember how many times I used it then, but I do remember obtaining horseradish specifically for the recipe, and being underwhelmed by the result.

This time around, since I've already been experimenting with other homemade mustard recipes (albeit rather unsuccessfully so far), I know enough to know I can just go ahead and omit the horseradish. I also got partway through and realized I don't have any of the onion powder the recipe called for, either. Whoops. So I swapped in a quarter of an actual onion, even though the recipe maker noted they couldn't make a real onion work in mustard. (unfortunately I didn't save information on where I got this recipe to begin with; I guess I downloaded it before I got in that habit). I used a breakfast stout, which may very well wind up imparting an odd flavor, and I used black mustard seeds instead of brown, since that's what I had (I did have the called-for mustard powder and yellow mustard seeds). So, a multidimensional experiment.

I have to figure it can't be worse than some of my other recent attempts. All the better if it's actually better. And even if it's simply "different," I'll probably continue this long-term mustard-making experiment because I haven't found any storebought options around here that are good enough to make me quit my experiments. I should note my mustard experiments are motivated by a combination of cheaper cost, reduction of disposable container use/generation, and flavor.
The best mustard I've ever had was made by someone in Arizona, and it no longer exists.

For the next time, perhaps a brown ale, and perhaps I'll actually get some brown mustard seeds and onion powder going. I'll have to stock up again on yellow mustard seeds and mustard powder, too. People say the mustard powder itself can be a major determinant of the end result. I was mostly just using the black mustard seeds because I wound up with a crap-ton of them from a shopping trip to an Indian grocery store at one point.

Day 1 - Fic - Warrior Nun - Yasmine

Feb. 1st, 2026 07:13 pm
jacquelee: (WN: Yasmine thinking)
[personal profile] jacquelee posting in [community profile] halfamoon
Title: Finding Yourself in a New World – Chapter one: The Innocent
Day/Prompt: Day 1 / The Innocent
Fandom: Warrior Nun (TV)
Character/Pairing: Yasmine, Shannon, Mary, Camila, Lilith, Beatrice
Rating/Warning(s): non-graphic depictions of violence
Word Count: 4508
Summary: Yasmine, a librarian who used to be a nun, drives home one evening and suddenly finds herself in a new world. A world with spaceships and aliens, where she's expected to help her team fight monsters. After the initial shock, Yasmine finds that this world not only holds the adventures she had always dreamed about but that her team also becomes the family she had never had before.
Author's Notes: I decided to approach this year's Halfamoon a little unconventionally and am going to write an overarching fic for all the prompts, one chapter per prompt. The prompts really felt connected to me and it immediately brought an isekai to mind, which I then combined with a litrpg. It's my first time writing both and it's not following the rules for them very strictly, my goal is to have fun more than to follow the genre conventions meticulously.

Here on AO3
kingstoken: (Soft Crowley)
[personal profile] kingstoken posting in [community profile] fancake
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairings/Characters: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: T
Length: 5437 words
Creator Links: iamtheenemy (Steph)
Theme: Inept in love

Summary: Crowley gets orders to seduce Aziraphale to the dark side. It goes about as well as you might expect.

Reccer's Notes: Crowley gets orders from Hell to seduce Aziraphale, and Crowley can't really bring himself to try, despite some half-hearted  attempts.  That's the first half of the fic, the second half is the two of them after the almost apocalypse, and it's very sweet, even if Crowley's brain stops functioning a few times. 

Fanwork Links: AO3

The spree continues

Feb. 1st, 2026 09:13 am
christopher575: (Enterprise destroys Seattle)
[personal profile] christopher575
Since I'm in an archiving and deleting mood, I finally got around to an account that's been on my list for many years: my first YouTube account. It bore the name of my old hotmail account and might even be older than my original gmail account, which would account for the name. It's certainly from before a time when there was a full suite of Google apps integrated with a single sign-in. I just saved 61 of 63 videos from that channel, it was easy to see from the thumbnail that a couple could just go away forever.

Now I have two YouTube accounts. The oldest is linked to the aforementioned original gmail account and has no videos because I wasn't interested in putting videos on YouTube again until 2016, and by that time we had one for our home domain. In 2016 I taught myself how to edit video and returned to YouTube to unveil the video I'd dreamed of creating for years.



Funnily enough, that video has way more views on Facebook than on YouTube, and did pretty good numbers on Tumblr, too.

YouTube says I have "about 709" videos on my current account, and I can tell you from memory that the bulk of that is time lapses and walk route videos. I can't imagine getting rid of this account because, like with flickr, hundreds of blog posts have that content. And now, I do my water fitness playlists on that account as well.

The older account with no videos has almost no reason to exist at all. When we switched to YouTubeTV as our TV provider, you had to sign in with a gmail account, and it couldn't be a personal domain one. That was a frustrating time because I'd be signed in to YouTube on the home domain because that's where all my stuff was, but I had to switch over to the original one a lot for TV administration purposes. That led to a "Watch Later" list on the older account that hasn't been added to in four years. At some point I need to go look at that list to see if there's anything I actually want to watch, as I'm sure there are a few fun surprises in it.

But other than that, everything that matters to me on YouTube is now in one place, and just like with my TikTok, there's a folder of old videos on our server from an account that's now gone.

A silly thing I'll admit is that a big part of why I deleted it is because I got tired of seeing the account in the list to select from when we open YouTube on the TV. I haven't opened it yet, but now I should only see two. I never signed into that old one on the TV, but it was tied to one of the other accounts, probably the second oldest one. More on the TV part of the saga later because I don't want to wait to post.
lightbird: http://coelasquid.deviantart.com/ (Default)
[personal profile] lightbird posting in [community profile] halfamoon
Title/Link: A Kind of Rebirth
Fandom: Hey Arnold!
Character(s): Miriam Pataki, Helga Pataki, Olga Pataki
Rating: Teen and Up
Prompt: The Innocent
Summary: She wasn’t quite a whole new woman, but she was getting better.

Her day

Feb. 1st, 2026 11:59 am
tedwords: (Default)
[personal profile] tedwords
 




"There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Friday night martini post: 

Tonight is all about Krista, and let's just leave it at that.

I mentioned this morning that I have always felt a bond with Krista, right from the start. I meant it.

I remember, years ago, that there was a point very early in my relationship with Josie where we had a terrible fight. I mean, just awful. We were very closing to breaking up, and I was determined to move away to California and work in a shoe factory. What held me back? One major thing was the thought of never seeing Krista again. The thought of not being a part of her life, of not being there to support her, to help parent her, filled me with such sadness that I just could not endure.

And here we are, four decades later, and I can truly say I made the right choice all those years ago, and have been there, a great big old honking part of her life. Her father. What an honor and pleasure it's been. I've seen her grow older, graduate high school, get her MBA, have a child, and still be that sweet inquisitive child I loved from the day I met her.

So tonight, I raise a chocolate cherry martini and toast to my 40 year old daughter, who at heart is probably an older soul than I am. Here's to your 40s, dear girl. I love you to the moon and back.

Postscript now that the weekend is almost complete:

Friday was a lovely night, with all the family there to celebrate Krista's milestone. Perhaps unconsciously, Josie selected the location of our wedding reception for the party. It used to be a wedding venue, but now half of it is a pot facility and the other half is a restaurant. The food was good.

Ashes was there, the first time we have seen each other in person since we started the reconciliation process. It went went fine. I was a bit nervous, I am sure she was, too, but the conversation was free and easy. Light and unencumbered by two years of silence. Probably as it should be. She had texted me earlier that she was a bit nervous to see my parents and Corb's mom, but that went fine. Dad had just returned from a casino where he won $2,000 on an eighty cent bet, and he handed her a hundred dollar bill and asked her to promise to be there for Christmas this year. It was sweet.

Corb's mom was nice, as well. The last time Ashes saw her was at the wake for Josie's father and she deliberately snubbed Ashes, causing her (from what I learned later) to burst into tears and say "my grandfather died, too." I hadn't mentioned that to Diana because I didn't want her to feel bad, but I felt she needed to know, now. Glad I did. She turned on the charm and it seemed to go well.

It was a late night. After the party, a group of us went to Josie's house to play games. Josie thumbed through a scrapbook my mom had given Krista and called up old memories. She saw photos of Prince. She asked if we could get married again. I laughed and said no.

Last night Corb and I went to see his old work friends from APT, for their annual skanky swap. We had great conversations and talked about our hope for the end of a certain someone. Corb's friend Taylor is a passionate advocate for a better world. 

LJ's husband Bob retired last year. He seems bored but also recovering from a foot injury that resulted in AFib. I told him my news, He said to make sure you keep busy. I very much plan to.

On that note, ten weeks to go. I still cannot say anything until mid-February. It seems silly not to tell people. I plan to take advantage of the PTO days I will have accrued before April and plan to take the week of Presidents day off so we can go to Vermont. I guess that means I really have nine weeks to go. 

Today, Corb is super achy and hasn't felt well in three days. We are hoping it is not kidney stones. We will take it easy until we have to go out to be with his...gulp...family. Greg's birthday. Corb didn't want either Scott or Greg at his birthday. 

Another busy week has passed. I feel like I am in a slow/fast world right now. I want the next few weeks to speed up, but I don't want the world to speed up too quickly. I want to take it easier and really enjoy this wonderful place I am in.

Round 183: Inept in Love

Feb. 1st, 2026 08:45 am
runpunkrun: combat boot, pizza, camo pants = punk  (punk rock girl)
[personal profile] runpunkrun posting in [community profile] fancake
Photograph of two kingfishers perched on a branch. One is surrounded by a cloud of pink love hearts and the other has a single question mark over its head. Text: Inept in Love, at Fancake.
Bring out your failboats! Our theme for February is inept in love.

These fools are unlucky in love—whether it's due to inexperience, obliviousness, social anxiety, or their own terrible choices—or are so in love they can't function properly. This trope is sometimes called "Idiots in Love," but as "idiot" is an ableist term, I ask that you don't use it in your recs, and just as there are all kinds of love, this theme is for all kinds of relationships.

The tag for this round is: theme: inept in love

If you're just joining us, be sure to check out our policy on content notes. Content notes aren't required, but they're nice to include in your recs, especially if a fanwork has untagged content that readers may wish to know about in advance.

Rules! )

Posting Template! )

Promote this round! )

natalia_il_1992: (2021)
[personal profile] natalia_il_1992
Денис Драгунский спрашивает: "Что хорошего в демократии?"

"Вот, например, Трамп. Хороший ведь мужик, хорошего хочет, очень старается, но... с головой не совсем дружит. Логорея у него явная.
Но широкому избирателю, тем самым роковым 50,5% - это глубоко пофиг. Сам Т. сказал: "даже если я на глазах прохожих убью человека, количество моих избирателей не изменится!" - и это правда.
Потому что политические симпатии при демократии живут не в голове, не в коре или хотя бы в подкорке, а где-то чуть пониже диафрагмы. То, что в народе называется "нутром чую!"

Что же такое демократия? Сказать, что это диктатура озверевшего быдла - было бы неправдой, разумеется. Демократия - это диктатура циничной и алчной элиты, которая крепко оседлала и охмурила это озверевшее, хотя на самом деле глубоко несчастное, быдло.

Сказанное настолько ясно, что не требует комментариев.
==========================================================

И да, закрыл возможность комментирования.

Что скажете?
cmpax_u_pagocmb: (Default)
[personal profile] cmpax_u_pagocmb posting in [community profile] ru_strugackie
— Ты посмотри, что они нам дают, — сказал Гай. — Довоенные машины, хлам имперский, консервные банки… Слушай, Мак, мы что же, так и подохнем здесь? Ведь это же погибель верная…

Почему Гай Гракх называет имперскую технику "хламом", если она очевидно превосходит все современные ему аналоги?

Империя же, согласно сюжету, дошла до производства дронов (которых Огнемётные Творцы делать не умеют).

You probably haven't noticed it

Feb. 1st, 2026 05:03 pm
einbeistrich: Photo of William Beckett, singer from The Academy Is... He's wearing red glasses and posing by pulling a strand of hair (Default)
[personal profile] einbeistrich
You always say that you love me, yet here we are:
making plans in the front, while I freak out in the back.

You're patient and, at the same time, clueless - so clueless.
Maybe that's why you lick my wounds just to open new ones.

("What a match, I'm doomed and you're semi-sweet")

I want to be good for us, but I haven't even been good to myself.
I want to cherish us, but look where it has brought me.

The clock has been ticking louder and I'm already in debt to it.
What if I get it wrong? Or worse - what if I get it right?

I live in doubt so I don't risk living by desire.
I don't have it in me to live any other way.

Now I understand the role a woman plays in a relationship.
You don't even think about it.

1-Е /// Ждуны...

Feb. 1st, 2026 04:15 pm
shad_tkhom: (Бальтазар)
[personal profile] shad_tkhom

M1 c



Одни опять ждут перемен, другие Конца света, третьи - Светлого будущего, которое им обещали очень давно, в светлом прошлом... Думают, что будет как в любимых с детства сказках - прогнали Сеньора Помидора, сбросили Принца Лимона и вот оно - щастье! То, что разруха не в сараях, а головах, что это не старуха с клюкой - осознание этого факта приходит много позднее. Что, если в головах ничего не поправить, снова будет тоже самое, те же яйца - вид сбоку. У Евгения Шварца в "Драконе" всё заканчивается по сказочному - главный герой получает корону и девушку, главные злодеи отправляются в тюрьму. В "Убить дракона" финал более реалистичный - битва эта будет длиться до конца времён и главному герою нельзя успокаиваться. Он сам начал превращаться в Дракона, как в другой известной сказке - так легко начать решать, как другим жить. Естественно ради их же блага. Всё во имя добра и светлого будущего. Они сами виноваты - не понимают, гады, своего счастья и вобще - как известно, лес рубят... "Опять власть меняется!", а по сути - ничего не меняется: "Вдруг опять перевесили флаги." Опять за вас кто-то решил каким богам молиться и новый иконостас согласно предписанию от новой же власти. Избиратель - это всегда был статус, а теперь избирает кто угодно и кого угодно. Место демократии заняло охлократия и мало кто это заметил. Толпа диктует и не только моду. Сиюминутные капризы этого столайного чудища труднопредсказуемы. В итоге во власть проходят редкие плуты и проходимцы, чуящие, чего хочет толпа, плоть от плоти стада человечьего, жонглёры словами, гипнотизёры и факиры, зловещее шапито из произведений Рэя Брэдбери...


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