tielan
10 July 2026 @ 10:24 am
must be funny  
"Money were not an issue" is a bit of a tricksy phrase.

Do you mean I could buy anything and anyone in the world? Like, no amount too large, no cost beyond contemplating?

Or do you just mean I get all my basics provided? Bills paid, insurances, food, etc?

Because I'm talking about a situation where "if I need the money to buy anything, I have it" in which case, I'm not thinking about me, I'm thinking BIG SCALE.

--

1. What would you do right now, if money were not an issue?

Buy the Australian government. Everyone's for sale at the right price, and you said 'money not an issue'.

Actually, no, I would buy one of the major news/media companies networks. Straight up. Fire everyone, rehire a bunch of people, kill AI, the whole deal.

smaller scale

Oh, you mean personally?

Buy several properties. Townhouses to rent out to friends/people who are struggling. Do it up, solar, water tanks, garden beds, etc.

At least one land property up in the hills - probably about 2-3 acres. Same thing, although a little more intensive.

If we're not talking about the big broadscale kind of stuff, I'd get the roof replaced and the walls insulated, sort out some under-house storage spaces, and redo the garden.



2. What would you do for the next three years, if money were not an issue?

Sort out the house and the land.

Write that novel. (Yes, really. *sigh* I've been saying this for the last twenty-five years.)


3. What is bringing you the most joy right now that requires little or no money?

Fanfic writing.


4. What types of things do you find enjoyable that require no money?

Walking around the neighbourhood. Gardening (although a lot of that tends to cost money in inputs). Reading fanfic.


5. Is there anything you've been meaning to do for a long time, but put off because of money?

...I'm guessing getting the roof replaced and the walls insulated doesn't count?

Pay off my sister's mortgage? IDEK.


--

I was going to talk about jobness and the next stage of work, but not out in the open, I think.
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Trishelle
09 July 2026 @ 04:17 pm
WEC Polycule Angst like HEY BRAIN OUCH WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT  
(I still owe y'all a couple of AMA posts so I'll hopefully have those up this weekend!! This week has just been WILD to say the least xD)

Was randomly thinking about my Arknights Endfield polycule last night and for those who don't know, Wulfgard is a wolf, Camille is a vampire (and it's hinted that he's been alive for A WHILE), and if previous Arknights lore is any indication, it's HIGHLY likely that the Endministrator has also been alive for a WHILE.

With that out the way, I stumbled on a slowed version of one of my favorite songs and my brain immediately was like "What if Camille or the Endmin outlives the other two and the constant repeating of the "may you never forget me" is one singing to the graves of the other two?" and genuinely HEY BRAIN WHAT THE FUCK THAT HURTS JEEZUS CHRIST!!!!

The next video I come across immediately afterwards? THE GODDAMN CLIP FROM THE OLD DUCKMAN CARTOON WHERE HE TALKS TO HIS FUTURE SELF.

No like FORREAL THOUGH MY BRAIN HATES ME xD

But now I feel like I have fic to write b/c this applies to a few of my ships...🤭
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Capy
08 July 2026 @ 09:45 pm
 
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arimamary
09 July 2026 @ 05:31 pm
Random Ramblings about RDR2-Inspired Kageyama Fix-it Redemption  
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arimamary
09 July 2026 @ 03:42 pm
Fannish 50: Kageyama Reiji's Unfulfilled Revenge  
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Redbird
09 July 2026 @ 05:15 pm
storage unit  

Over the last few years, we have sorted and decluttered enough that we no longer need the large storage unit that Cattitude and I rented when we had to move into a small apartment on short notice, in 2019.

Adrian did a lot of the work, both mental and physical. We gave away a lot of books, and also things like an air conditioner and an exercise bike.

We now have a much smaller and less expensive storage unit, which we hope to have cleared in a couple of months (the units are rented by the month).

After Cattitude and Adrian got home last night, having moved things down the corridor and officially given up the old unit, we had the traditional post-moving pizza for dinner.

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Mad Scientess
09 July 2026 @ 10:06 pm
Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum  
Before we left Washington DC after our brief but packed visit, my colleague and I paid a visit to the Smithsonian’s National Air & Space Museum. We decided to walk from where we were staying, forgetting that the park around the capitol was completely blocked off for the fair. This turned what would have been a 13-minute walk in the sweltering heat into 35-minute walk in said heat. By the time we got to the museum queue, which stretched beyond the shade of the building, we were melting.

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At least we had an odd aerobatics display involving parachutes and upside-down flags to entertain us while we queued.

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Happy, happy nerds, who have successful achieved museum entry. And air conditioning. Blessed, blessed air conditioning.

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Lunar module LM-2 feet. Gold on the outer side, black on the inner side facing the main engine exhaust. Thermal management!

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Aforementioned LM-2 main engine.

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LM2 from above.

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Pioneer!

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CubeSats.

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The excellent little Sorato rover, developed by the Japanese company ispace, which sadly hasn’t flown.

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IceCube neutrino observatory.

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So many treasures in the space hall.

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This still blows my mind. These holes are where the debris impact craters were drilled out and studied when Hubble’s original Wide Field Camera was removed and replaced, and the flawed camera returned to Earth.

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Delighted colleague with Hubble’s backup mirror.

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Dava Newman’s spacesuit.

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The aftermath of 16 years in space.

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Telstar. Fantastic little spacecraft. Most excellent cat (RIP Telly).

Epilogue: I didn’t end up replacing my SR-71 blackbird hoodie, because I thought most of the designs in the shop were rather tacky. Everything’s gone to these big screen-printed images that take up the entire front or back (or both) of the item. My old hoodie just had an attractive sewn logo on the top left side on the front. I settled for a t-shirt that had a similar printed logo on the front.
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09 July 2026 @ 09:39 pm
Unobtainium  

The little plastic wallet I keep my travel pass, railcard, etc in -- which was a freebie from Sparkle last year -- has disintegrated. Like, I was worried about actually losing my bus pass when I was out on Tuesday.

My attempts to look online purchase a new version have taught me:

  1. this PVC trifold style I used to get given at train stations for free with tickets in it (or at pride) is
    a) impossible to find
    and
    b) necessary for me, bifold will not hold all my stuff
    and
  2. the two styles of travel pass holder are
    a) for old people (floral, offering personalization)
    or
    b) gifts for dads (again personalization, also football teams and things like cars or motorcycles)

I guess it makes sense, with most people who have these passes being old. But sheesh, here I thought I might be able to get something at least as okay as my rainbow Network Rail ticket wallet, with three clear windows for cards. And it turns out I can't even have three clear windows!

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stonepicnicking_okapi
09 July 2026 @ 04:32 pm
Happy ARMY day!  
Borahae to all the ARMY out there! 9 July is the day the BTS fandom was created (26 days after BTS debuted). And instead of a BTS clip, here's a clip of the Chilean ARMY in the streets a few days ago protesting the government's statement that the concerts (3 shows already sold out) were not confirmed yet and that the platform used by BTS were in danger of hurting the turf of the stadium and that the show would have to be moved to another venue.

It sounds like a shakedown for a bribe by the government. I hope they back down and approve the concert in the designated field and that ARMYs who have tickets go and enjoy. But see them protest peacefully. And ARMYs around the world stand with you!

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Linky
09 July 2026 @ 03:55 pm
Fannish Fifty #34: Ultraman Tiga Collection (So Far!)  
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Linky
09 July 2026 @ 03:48 pm
Community Thursday  
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and it makes me feel so fine
09 July 2026 @ 01:46 pm
Fannish 50 round 2, #27  
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badly_knitted
09 July 2026 @ 06:11 pm
The Fantastic Journey Fic: Imprisoned Again  
 


Title: Imprisoned Again
Fandom: The Fantastic Journey
Author: [personal profile] badly_knitted
Characters: Jonathan Willaway, Varian.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: General for the series.
Summary: Once again, two of the travellers find themselves taken prisoner…
Word Count: 1340
Written For: Prompt 273 – Bad Timing at [community profile] fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own The Fantastic Journey, or the characters. They belong to their creators.
 
 


( Imprisoned Again... )
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badly_knitted
09 July 2026 @ 06:01 pm
Fic: Mystifying  
 


Title: Mystifying
Author: [personal profile] badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, OC.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3120
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: There is a strange castle sitting beside a road in the Brecon Beacons… Even for Torchwood, that’s a bit weird.
Content Notes: None needed.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Global Grab Bag at [community profile] 1_million_words.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
 
 


 
“This,” said Ianto, “gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘abandoned castle’, don’t you think?”

 
“It’s certainly different.” Jack studied the castle. One thing was certain; it didn’t belong in the middle of the Brecon Beacons. To be fair, he wasn’t sure where it WOULD belong, with all its turrets, and minarets, battlements, bartizans, corbels, and watchtowers. It seemed to be an amalgam of every kind of castle built throughout earth’s history, with a few additional features that had probably never been imagined by human architects of any period.
 

How it had come to be where it was, sitting innocently in the middle of nowhere, beside the A470 was anyone’s guess. The Rift didn’t extend this far, or at least there’d never been any prior indication that it might, and anyway, the sorts of things that came through it were usually moderately sized at most, nothing bigger than a bus. Certainly nothing the size of a castle, and yet…
 

There it stood, solid as stone, nestling into the scenery as if it had always been there. Which, Ianto assured Jack, could not possibly be the case. There was no record of it, no one had ever reported seeing a stray castle up here, and there was no way in hell it could have escaped anyone’s notice. It would be extremely difficult for anyone to overlook a building more than a hundred feet in height and covering several acres, surrounded by a moat, especially one of such… unique design.
 

“I suspect this might be a little difficult to cover up.” Ianto stared gloomily at the castle. Now that the initial excitement was wearing off, all he could see was a massive problem, one that he and the rest of Torchwood would no doubt be expected to solve.

 
“Camouflage paint?” Jack suggested hopefully. Ianto didn’t reply, just turned a withering glare on his lover. Jack shrugged. “It was just an idea!”

 
Returning his attention to the inconvenient castle, Ianto stared at it hard, as if willing it to disappear as suddenly and inexplicably as it had appeared. “I had hoped it might be nothing more than a mirage,” he said, sounding defeated. “But no such luck.”
 

“It’s too solid for a mirage,” Jack agreed.
 

Ianto pulled out his pocket watch to check the time; it was barely five in the morning, although, with it being the height of summer, the sun had been up almost as long as he and Jack had. “We’re fortunate there isn’t much traffic this early in the morning, but it won’t be long before someone else sees our new landmark, and then tourists and locals alike will be flocking up here with phones and cameras at the ready…” Ianto trailed off. “It’s going to be a nightmare.”
 

“We’ll figure something out.”
 

“If that’s meant to be reassuring… it’s not.” Ianto strode towards the castle and tested the conveniently lowered drawbridge with the toe of one scruffy trainer. He’d learned some time ago that tailored three-piece suits and Italian leather dress shoes were not suitable attire for a jaunt out to the Beacons.
 

“Be careful,” Jack warned as Ianto ventured slowly out onto what appeared to be weather-worn wooden planks of considerable age.
 

Ianto paused to look back. “Are you just going to stand there and let me face whatever might be in there alone?”

 
“No, of course not! I just thought we should cross the drawbridge one at a time. We don’t know how much weight it can take.”
 

“A likely story.” Ianto, already a good twenty feet out across the drawbridge, stamped his foot on the boards with a reassuringly solid thud; he didn’t detect the slightest hint of vibration in the timbers. “We could probably drive the SUV across if it wasn’t for the fact there’s a roadside ditch in the way. What are you worried about anyway? We’re both immortal, so come on!”

 
“Fine, but if we wind up trapped in there, or if it suddenly goes back to wherever it came from, who’ll know where we went and come to our rescue?”

 
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jack! I left a message for the team before we set out, since there was no way of knowing what we’d find when we got here.” All that Torchwood’s automated alert systems had given them was a report of an unknown signal being detected, along with a set of coordinates. “It’s a good thing one of us can be relied on to use their brain.”
 

“That’s unfair!” Jack pouted. “I use mine too! Give me a second to take a couple of pictures and send them to the team’s phones.” He got his phone out. “Say cheese!”
 

“Jack!”
 

“Good enough.” Jack snapped off a few shots, attached them to a text, and sent it. “At least if we don’t come back, they’ll be forewarned.” Jack stepped gingerly onto the drawbridge.
 

“Since when have you been such a pessimist?”
 

“Since a gigantic castle appeared out of nowhere! Do we even know what’s usually here?”
 

“A nondescript patch of moorland. Grass, heather, bracken, the occasional rock. Nothing of particular interest, except perhaps to a botanist or a geologist.” With Jack trailing behind him, Webley in hand, Ianto stepped through the arched entrance into a courtyard.

 
For an ancient castle, it appeared surprisingly well-preserved. The flagstones, though worn, were free of weeds, and the whole place appeared well cared for. Maybe it wasn’t quite as abandoned as it had seemed from the outside. Ianto drew his own gun and moved forward more cautiously, sniffing the air.
 

“What?” said Jack, coming alongside him, but looking in the opposite direction, covering their left side while Ianto covered the right.
 

“Don’t you smell it? Freshly baked bread!” Ianto’s stomach growled hungrily; they’d skipped breakfast in the interests of checking out the anomaly as quickly as possible.

 
“Huh, now you mention it…” Jack took a deep sniff too, his mouth watering. “Where is that coming from? It smells delicious.”

 
“Probably the kitchens, and if there’s bread baking, that means there’s someone about, doing the baking. Probably close by.” He spared Jack a quick glance. “But that does NOT mean we can go and help ourselves. For all we know, no matter how good it smells, it might not be suitable for human consumption. Accidentally poisoning or drugging ourselves would not be helpful. Whoever this castle belongs to, they might be deliberately trying to trap us and drug us into revealing Torchwood’s secrets.”

 
“Now who’s being a pessimist?”

 
“I’m just saying we should exercise caution. Lord knows your caution could do with some exercise. You never use it; you just go blundering into dangerous situations without a thought.”
 

“I… would resent that if it wasn’t true.” Jack gave a sheepish grin. “I’m trying to do better.”
 

“You’re trying, I’ll give you that much.” Ianto pointed. “Kitchens are this way.”
 

Jack frowned. “How d’you know that?”
 

“I have a passing familiarity with castles; I’ve visited a fair few. Despite the unusual aspects of this one’s design, some things appear relatively standard.” Ianto led the way to the central building, around to one side and through an open doorway, into a kitchen with a slate floor, massive ovens in one wall, a fireplace, and a large wooden table in the middle, where two loaves of bread that looked fresh from the oven were cooling.
 

“Huh.” Jack’s attention automatically fixed on the baked goods. “All this space, those huge ovens, and only two loaves? Doesn’t that seem like a bit of a waste of effort?”
 

“Not all bakers are overachievers like you, Jack. Besides, two loaves, two of us… Remember what I said earlier? They could be the bait for a trap.”

 
“You really believe that?”

 
Ianto shook his head. “I don’t know what to believe. This whole situation is bizarre, even for us. Castles don’t just appear out of nowhere, like they just fell out of some giant’s pocket at the side of the road.” He walked past the table and its enticing fresh bread, making for the far doorway, checking carefully before stepping through into what looked like the banquet hall. A long table ran down the centre, with elaborately carved chairs along each side, space enough for at least forty people, although there were only two place settings, across from each other at the end closest to the kitchen.
 

“Curioser and curioser,” murmured Jack. “It’s almost like we were expected.

 
Ignoring Jack, Ianto bypassed the table, moving towards another door leading deeper into the castle. Following him, Jack cocked his head to one side, “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

 
“Hear what?” Ianto replied. Three thousand years of evolution had given Jack better hearing and eyesight than Ianto, no doubt helped by a certain amount of crossbreeding with various alien races.

 
“I don’t know, but I’m hearing something. This way.” Jack took the lead, heading for the far end of the passageway, passing by numerous doors, all of which were closed. He stopped at a narrow doorway, the only one that was open, beyond which was a steep flight of stone steps. “Whatever it is, it’s coming from down there.”
 

“You do know that’s probably the dungeons down there, right?” Ianto sounded apprehensive.
 

“We’re armed with guns,” Jack reminded his lover. “I think we have the upper hand here.”
 

“I hope you’re right. Okay, lead the way.”
 

“Why do I have to lead?”
 

“You see better in the dark than I do, and it might be best to avoid advertising our presence before we see whatever’s making that noise.”

 
Now they were closer to the source, they could hear better, although they still couldn’t identify the noise beyond the fact that it was made up of thumps, clangs, thuds, and the occasional whirring sound, interspersed with snorts and rumblings.
 

“Maybe it’s the prisoners in the dungeons, trying to get out,” Jack murmured.
 

“Maybe it’s the sound of torture devices being used on the prisoners.” Ianto shuddered, remembering an earlier visit to the Beacons, and the cannibals who’d been preying on travellers.

 
“No, if it was that, there’d be screaming.”
 

“Right, of course. What was I thinking?”
 

“Alright, let’s do this. Keep close, but don’t crowd me.”
 

“I do know what I’m doing, Jack. I’m not some wet behind the ears new recruit.”
 

“I never said you were.” Jack crept slowly down the steps, Webley steady in one hand, the other trailing along the stone wall beside him for balance, trying to tread as softly as he could. Not that anyone was likely to hear his footsteps over all the banging and clonking.
 

Ianto followed, keeping three stairs between himself and Jack so that he didn’t lose sight of his lover in the gloom. As it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. The staircase curved in a tight spiral, and almost before they lost the light filtering down from above, they began to see a glow from below that grew brighter the further down they went. When they reached the bottom, they peered cautiously around the edge of the doorframe.
 

What they saw there was neither dungeons nor a torture chamber, but a spacious, well-lit underground chamber lined with banks of machinery, most of which neither man could even begin to guess the purpose of. There were computers, certainly, with lots of flashing lights, but they only accounted for one relatively small area. The other things were completely unfamiliar, although they appeared to have been bodged together using components from dozens of different worlds.

 
Over by one wall was a hunched figure wielding what appeared to be an assortment of tools, one in each of its four hands. It was hitting the machinery quite vigorously, muttering a barely audible stream of highly inventive curses in several languages of both earth and extra-terrestrial origin. The gist of it was that the machinery was NOT working the way it should, and that was apparently causing the alien a serious problem.
 

The being paused in berating the machinery, and in hitting it, to glance back over what passed for its shoulder. “Well, it’s about time you got here! I sent out a signal hours ago! What kept you?”
 

“Excuse me?” Ianto frowned at the being, who was now speaking fluent English, albeit with a strong Welsh accent.

 
“Don’t just stand there gawping! Give me a hand with this stupid thing!”
 

“Don’t you have enough hands?” Ianto wasn’t sure why he’d said that; it had just slipped out.
 

“Obviously not! I thought Torchwood in this time period was supposed to help people from other planets who are experiencing difficulties!”
 

“We are, I mean we do, and we will.” Jack stumbled over his words. “It might help if you’d tell us what the problem is.”
 

“Damned perception filter’s gone on the blink, of course! Now everyone can see this place! Nineteen hundred years of observation and research, hidden in plain sight, and now the blasted thing’s jammed up and stopped working! I’d fire up the engines and move somewhere less conspicuous, except that they haven’t been used since we moved to this spot approximately five centuries ago. They’ll need a full service before I’d dare to even try, and besides, if we take to the air, that will attract even more unwanted attention! Nevertheless, my colleague is running checks on them, just in case we have to leave in a hurry.”

 
“Are you saying you’ve been right here for five hundred years, and no one’s ever noticed?” Ianto’s eyebrows went up so fast it looked like they were trying to reach escape velocity.

 
“Of course! Well, give or take a few decades. That’s what the perception filter technology is for. Don’t you know?”
 

“Yes, we use it ourselves,” Jack assured the alien. “But I’ve never heard of it being used on this scale.”
 

“Hmpf.” The alien glared at them from catlike silver eyes. “Well, now you have, so if you don’t mind, some help would be appreciated. You can ask any other questions you have while we’re fixing this stupid thing.”
 

“Of course.” Jack holstered the Webley, shrugged out of his coat, and tossed it over what looked like a workbench. “I’m Captain Jack Harkness, and this is Ianto Jones.”
 

“Yes, yes, I already know all that. I am called Immrikk. I come from a planet we call Arnusk, not that you’ll ever have heard of it. We won’t make contact with humans for another few millennia. Now, can we get on with this? It IS rather an emergency, you know.”

 
“What d’you need us to do?” Jack asked.
 

“You and the other one take that one.” Immrikk pointed at the neighbouring bank of machinery. “I’ll keep working on this one.”

 
Ianto hesitated for a moment longer, then put his own gun away. If the alien was telling the truth, and they had no reason not to believe… him, fixing the machinery would be in Torchwood’s best interests, since it would solve the problem of there being a strange castle where no castle should be.
 

“So,” Ianto said as he rolled up his sleeves and set to work assisting Jack, who knew more about perception filter technology than Ianto did, although perhaps less than their new acquaintance. “You’ve been here a long time then.”
 

“We have indeed,” Immrikk agreed. “Studying various aspects of earth’s history. We used to move around a lot, but then we decided to specialise in Welsh history, which hasn’t received as much attention as we feel it should have, especially considering it’s where the Rift and Torchwood are located.”
 

“And you parked yourself in the Beacons?”

 
“This area will remain undeveloped for a long while yet, and it’s not too far from Cardiff, and your base.”
 

“And you didn’t think to let Torchwood know you were here? We could have helped.” Jack sounded like he was pouting.
 

“We prefer to make our own observations, and our sensors collect data from across the entire country. We venture out from time to time, in disguise of course. There used to be more of us, but some were recalled to our home planet a few centuries back, and a few met with unfortunate accidents, and now there are only two of us left, but we intend to continue out studies for at least another thousand years.” Immrikk shrugged. “There’s so much to learn about the period before humanity begins to venture out among the stars, and the first few centuries of contact with other worlds.”
 

Jack was working busily at the console next to the one Immrikk was periodically hitting with one of his tools, and occasionally kicking with a hooflike foot. He removed a panel and peered into the machine’s interior, using his phone for illumination. “Ianto, give it a good thump about five inches to the left of that readout.”
 

“Ah, the time-honoured way of fixing machinery.” Ianto did as instructed, giving it a hefty whack with something resembling a lump hammer. The machine hiccupped, burped, rattled, and a series of lights abruptly winked on. One by one, they turned green.

 
“Aha!” The alien beamed at Jack. “That seems to have done the trick!”
 

“It’ll do for now, but I’ll be out again later with my tech expert,” Jack said. “We’ll take a closer look and see if we can deal find the root cause and deal with it. You may have some loose connections in the circuitry. We’ll help you service your engines as well; make sure they’re in working order.”

 
“Your assistance will be most appreciated. Machinery does tend to break down over time. For the moment, perhaps the two of you would care to join my partner and I for breakfast?”
 

“It would be our pleasure.”
 

“Excellent!” Immrikk was fairly radiating joy. “It’s so rare that we get to converse with anyone but each other. I’m sure it will be especially fascinating to talk with the two of you, who will have such a far-reaching impact on the future. Not that we can tell you anything of what lies ahead.”

 
“Of course not,” Ianto agreed. “You might accidentally change the future.”
 

“Indeed. But we can tell you of our world in exchange for your company, and your insights into past and present.”
 

Jack nodded. “That sounds fair.”
 

It was strange to think that the castle had been there all along, masquerading as the most boring stretch of moorland in the whole of Wales, with nothing even remotely interesting about it, ensuring that nobody passing by even gave it a first glance, never mind a second. Still, now that Torchwood knew it was there, they’d stop by now and then to check on the two aliens. They did bake exceedingly good bread.
 

 
The End
 
 



 
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ysabetwordsmith
09 July 2026 @ 11:12 am
Birdfeeding  
Today is partly cloudy and warm.

I fed the birds.  I haven't seen any activity yet.

I put out water for the birds.

EDIT 7/9/26 -- I did a bit of work around the patio.





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Reeby
09 July 2026 @ 12:00 pm
Wednesday What I'm...  
Reading
  • I started reading Sir Thursday by Garth Nix (Keys to the Kingdom #4). Curious why my friend thought I'd like this one in particular. It's fine so far but idk.
  • Officially DNFed Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo. I was 29% through and bored to death, and I just could not manage to make myself care about the characters or what was happening, not that it really seemed like anything was happening. We had our work book club meeting and discussed it, and it sounded like while everyone else did manage to finish, no one really enjoyed it. Seems like a book with a lot of potential, but Lo got caught up in the history and sense of place to the detriment of plot and characters.
  • Ficwise, I'm mostly still reading Love in the Air fic, though I have had a few quick detours for KinnPorsche and RPF.
Watching
  • The roommate and I started watching Fourever You season 2. I was so so looking forward to this, and it hasn't disappointed! It's divided into three parts for the three main couples this season, and we're a little into the second one. I was meh on the first couple, FahPhoon, at first, but I ended up really liking them by the end of their arc. The second couple, ArthitDao, is what I'm really here for. I've been excited for them since before watching the first season, and they didn't even end up meeting then!! It hasn't really started on the actual romance for them, but the ghost stuff has been very good and their dynamic even now is so my jam.
  • The roommate, best friend, and I watched the last episodes of Love of Silom. Really enjoyed seeing Wayu being so sweet and sad while Krit was in the hospital, and even winning over Krit's mom by just being himself. Of course it took being a top tier architecture student to win over Krit's dad, plus cute free grandchild, but who's surprised lol
  • The roommate, best friend, and I watched the last episodes of Enemies with Benefits. A sweet show, though I remain overall pretty meh on office romances. But I did love that Lal got to beat the shit out of Ken :)
  • The roommate, best friend, and I watched the last episodes of Wu. Kind of disappointing, ngl. I felt like this show was underwritten and had too much empty space. SkyNani's chemistry was not hitting for me either, which I think is a directorial problem since while I haven't seen any of their other shows together, I've always thought they were pretty good outside of shows. And while I knew going in it was a bromance not a romance, it honestly didn't feel like it made sense NOT being a romance.
  • The roommate, best friend, and I watched the latest episodes of A Dog and a Plane. Loving it so much! TotoKanit and AkkiVeha are both fantastic, and I'm excited to see more of the four of them together. Could do with more Tui though.
  • The roommate, best friend, and I started watching Knot. This is the first "real" omegaverse Thai BL. The first ep was ok, but the second ep was... well, it was bad lol The BoatOat scenes looked way more like someone smashing two floppy dolls together than anything, you know, sexy or erotic. I am not feeling their chemistry at all, the English subtitles are garbage, and honestly I feel like the show's explanations of omegaverse are severely lacking. I am at least excited for the secondary and especially tertiary pairs after seeing how cute they were together in the first ep reaction.
  • The roommate, best friend, and I started watching Don't Be Too Emotional. I'm having a really good time so far! It's gonna be so messy and fucked up, even if it's still unclear if there's anything supernatural going on. I love how ominous Big Jane is and how Little Jane is ignoring all of that. Like, the opening song has the banger line "you're a red flag but I'm color blind" lmao
Listening
  • Listened to some Happier with Gretchen Rubin.
  • I finally got my MP3 player going and have been using it on my commute. It's really nice to just listen to tpop on the bus, even if I've only got a few dozen songs on it so far!
Writing
  • Finished writing a Thundercloud Rainstorm fic I started back in January. I'd originally planned to include smut, but I think it's fine as is. I've been trying to not force fics to keep going when they've reached a good enough conclusion...
  • Speaking of, wrapped up another Thundercloud Rainstorm fic that's super tiny, but I decided it really didn't need all the fleshing out I'd been thinking (and dreading).
  • Wrote a little OhmLeng fic that's just pure smut lol
  • Started writing a Love in the Air fic finally. It's a "they meet at a BDSM club" fic, which is one of my favorite things to read in any fandom, but I've never written it. Hopefully I can do it justice!
Learning
  • Thai
    • I started over on Pimsleur's Thai since it's been quite a while. It was actually really nice to see how much easier the first lesson was now! I listened to it while doing random small tasks around the apartment, which I think was also really helpful.
    • Did some writing practice on Saturday when the roommate and I went to Starbucks to write and I discovered I'd forgotten to charge my laptop to do so. Whoops.
    • Also did... well, idk what to call it exactly. I'm trying to learn some of the lyrics to LYKN songs before the concert next month, so I watched a couple lyric videos on 75% speed and tried to follow along. It's so much harder than it seems like it should be lol
  • Designing Your Life
    • Nothing.
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petrea_mitchell
09 July 2026 @ 07:26 am
A UK perspective on heat waves  
Tom Gauld on how heat waves feel in a land where bright sunny days have traditionally been considered a good thing.

Meanwhile, the Pacific Northwest feels like the land that summer forgot this year. We're still struggling to get up to 80F most days right now.
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stardust_rifle
09 July 2026 @ 09:02 am
M Digs Through Jrockyaoi Archives And Pulls Out Interesting Shit Part 27  
Gotten to late May of 2007 and it's vaguely unsettling feeling the effects of Strikethrough without any actual mention of what we now know was Strikethrough. "Because of the rumors about journals getting deleted, I'm friendslocking all of my fic." "I wanted this fic to be fluffier, but because of the thing with LJ, it turned out kind of angsty, sorry." Seeing that the last captures made of one particular BNF's fics to the Wayback Machine were all made in late May/early June of 2007.

That last one kind of gets me, honestly. It's just this sort of uncanny feeling of like, being so close to another fan who also cares deeply about preserving the things they love, and being able to guess at what they were feeling and that their feelings were similar to mine in a way. I want to make sure that this is safe so that LiveJournal won't be able to take it away from me. I understand. I understand, my fellow Committer of RPF Crimes. I'm pressing my hand in your fossilized handprint right now, in my mind.


~*~



Sadly, the link is broken, but...

What if Kai owned a Hooters restaurant, with j-rockers as the employees?

Truly, this author was before their time.


~*~


Hella interesting post from August 2007 asking the comm a bunch of questions about their favorite pairings, including who the seme and uke are, why the seme and uke are the seme and uke, and if you could see them switching. The answers are fascinating.

Why do you think [the seme and uke are the seme and uke]? Reasoning?

"All depends on the personality. In short, as others have wrote, it should really be clear by that as to who's seme and who is uke."

"classic rules on yaoi; seme mention before uke, seme is older and taller than uke, and (usually) have darker hair than uke.>>> read it somewhere on mags ^.~"

(explaining why they ship switch) "Well they all have the same parts, and they're all men, therefore all with the same needs. It's a give-take relationship; sometimes one gives, sometimes takes."

"I don't believe in the seme/uke roles because it's not realistic that one would always top and one would always bottom. I only use Dominant/submissive roles when I write about BDSM relationships where it's natural."

"Well, generally I don't have an iron-set roles for people... Though, granted, some people just don't work as ukes/semes."

"I don't believe in strict uke/seme roles unless it's within the context of a BSDM relationship. In my fics they always switch, and I tend to prefer reading fids where they switch, too."

Is there a change [sic] for turning tables? Why shouldn't uke turn into seme for a while?

"They can, but they always seem to return to the original way afterwards. ^^"

"There are some I might take into consideration when playing with both roles however there are concrete pairings where I prefer one party be submissive throughout the relationship."

"honestly, personally, i dont like if uke turn into seme." [sic]

"I view 'uke' and 'seme' as simply a way to describe who's being fucked and who's fucking, not a concrete role."

"I prefer they do. I think in terms of a real relationship equality is a big part and not all men, especially in couples like KaoruxKyo, would want to bottom constantly. Even uke's [sic] need a power trip once in awhile."

"Honestly, I'd define any relationship in which the tables never turn as kind of abusive and think that the top was being pretty selfish."

"I love it when the "obvious" uke tops XD" (you and me both buster)

"Oh yes. I love when it's a fight for top. XD it's almost always amusing."
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stonepicnicking_okapi
09 July 2026 @ 06:47 am
Poet's Corner: Onions by William Matthews  
Onions By William Matthews

How easily happiness begins by
dicing onions. A lump of sweet butter
slithers and swirls across the floor
of the sauté pan, especially if its
errant path crosses a tiny slick
of olive oil. Then a tumble of onions.

This could mean soup or risotto
or chutney (from the Sanskrit
chatni, to lick). Slowly the onions
go limp and then nacreous
and then what cookbooks call clear,
though if they were eyes you could see
( Read more... )
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Melime
09 July 2026 @ 03:28 am
Fic: Rescue these ungrateful plants (Good Omens book, Aziraphale/Crowley)  
Title: Rescue these ungrateful plants
Fandom: Good Omens (book)
Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: T/Slash
Word count: 2008
Tags: Romantic Fluff, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, South Downs Cottage, I'm still here and will be forever
Summary: Crowley is having a bit of a talk with their garden, to ensure that their plants remain green and beautiful, but Aziraphale isn't entirely sure if he agrees with his tough love approach.
For [community profile] seasons_of_fandom's season 2, challenge #13, Earth Day.

Rescue these ungrateful plants
Aziraphale takes a glance out the window, to see the garden, or, more specifically, Crowley tending to the garden. Although tending to might not be the best way to put it, considering the way that Crowley does it. Aziraphale can't quite hear the words from there, since Crowley agreed to keep the shouting to a minimum, but he can still see the tense posture, the threatening demeanour, the wiggling finger. And of course, the trembling, terrified plants.

It's all posturing, really. He knows that Crowley isn't actually as tense as he pretends to be, or as stressed with his plants’ state. How had Crowley put it? He needed to keep up appearances for the plants, so that they would be properly motivated.

The reality is that he's quite proud of his garden, and will talk of his plants at length and to exhaustion - whether Aziraphale is actually paying attention to his words or not -, but only when he's out of earshot. In as much as one can be out of earshot of creatures that don't actually have anything resembling ears.

And he has every reason to be proud. Aziraphale hasn't seen such a lush garden since… well, they certainly don't need to talk about that. It's still the best garden in all of England, in his humble opinion. The judges of that pretentious magazine didn't agree to it, but Aziraphale suspects that they were biased towards flowers, while Crowley clearly prefers his greens.

Either that or they might have noticed the poor things trembling in terror. They had been quite afraid, even if I'm the end Crowley didn't make good on any of his many creative threats.

Aziraphale gives him a few more minutes, then takes pity on the poor plants. He does try not to undermine Crowley's authority with them, but it's hard not to feel a bit protective, even if Crowley insists that his tough love approach works. He grabs a bottle of white wine, not iced, of course, but miraculously kept at a perfect French wine cellar at the end of winter temperature, as well as two glasses, and goes outside.

Now that he's seeing them from up close, Aziraphale suspects that the plants are indeed greener than they had been this morning. They are also quite shaky, although they seem to calm down a bit when he approaches. It's possible that they already got used to how Crowley's lectures will soften when Aziraphale is listening.

“It's a bit warm outside today, isn't it, my dear boy? I brought you a little refreshment,” Aziraphale says, gesturing with the wine bottle.

Crowley gets up from where he had gotten down to inspect the roots. He wipes the dirty off his finger on his trousers, ignoring how that makes Aziraphale twist his nose at the mistreatment, although Crowley's clothes aren't human made, but miracled, so there isn't any need to extend them any excess care. Considering Crowley makes his own clothes from his imagination, it shouldn't be too hard for him to have something more appropriate than a suit, even in the state that they are in.

They don't know if it was a consequence of the way that Adam redid the world or something that their sides did in lieu of getting in contact with them for more drastic punitive measures after that whole ordeal. Aziraphale is certainly not going to try to investigate and remind Heaven that he exists and hasn't really been reprimanded for walking out of his job and later moving in with a demon. Besides, they can still have a fairly decent living in this way, and he's happier with the freedom of not having to report to Heaven.

They haven't lost their miracles completely. He suspects that Crowley wouldn't have the success that he has in making all of his plants grow so perfectly lush and green if he didn't push reality a little bit. And he would be naked, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad proposition, but the neighbours can already be insufferable as it is, so they don't need this sort of argument. Crowley can still make his clothes, and he did something to the kitchen that means that they can always have both ingredients if Aziraphale decides he wants to cook, and decent food if they want to stay in and have something ready to eat. Aziraphale was able to move all of his books to the cottage without making it too cramped, even though the entire cottage is smaller than his former bookshop and now all the books are properly on display rather than occasionally hidden to keep them safe from those rude people who walked in and tried to buy them. The Bentley seems to still be doing well with the one time that Crowley fuelled it, although it should have probably consumed that petrol by now. They don't need to sleep, but Crowley still likes to, and they don't need to eat, but also have no adverse effects when they do. Sobering up seems to have gotten harder, and sometimes they can no longer hit the mark when they are too drunk, and so have to wait it out. Very small miracles around them and their experiences work fine, as well as gentle pushes to reality, but anything bigger than that won't work.

It's no great loss, not when compared to what they gained.

“You can't trick me, angel, you're just trying to rescue these ungrateful, lazy plants who think that they can start slacking off just because I put them in the ground,” Crowley says, the second half of it towards the plants, pointing his finger at them and glaring.

He still accepts the glass that Aziraphale is offering him though. Now, Aziraphale could probably tell himself something along the lines that angels don't lie, but that's both not true and he might not be an angel anymore, so he sees no problem in lying now.

“Not at all, I just thought you might be tired working tirelessly under the relentless sun.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow high enough that Aziraphale can see it over the glasses.

“Were you reading one of those saucy novels again? Because if I'm supposed to be doing something I have to prepare,” Crowley says, more of a genuine question than teasing, although it's both.

Aziraphale huffs. He doesn't have any so called saucy novels. He has great works of literature, some of which happen to contain quality erotica, that's not the same.

“If you would rather question my choice of literature than share a bottle of wine, then I'll go back inside to drink it by myself, and you can go back to tormenting these poor beauties who are trying their best. Aren't you darlings? You are all doing such a good job of growing the greenest and most beautiful leaves that I've ever seen,” Aziraphale says, turning to them for the compliments.

It would be much easier to do this behind Crowley's back, but that would seem a bit disrespectful. Of course, not as bad as when Crowley decided to alphabetise Aziraphale’s books, and Aziraphale, absorbed as he was in his reading, only noticed it when he got to the G.

“Stop being nice to the plants, it makes them think I won't rip them off the ground and use them to start a bonfire to set as an example to the others. Dry and brown plants burn that much easier, and even if they don't, I can always toss in some alcohol,” Crowley says, determined to keep on tormenting the poor things.

Aziraphale happens to know that he very much won't do any of that, but they don't. Crowley can be surprisingly intimidating and convincing when the targets are plants and small critters, but once they get to the size of house cats the effect is greatly diminished. At least the plants seem to still listen to him regardless of their size. He's not entirely sure how long that's going to last though, since Crowley never fulfills any of the threats. Then again, the plants actually do grow beautifully so he has no cause to.

“You can terrorise them all you want, dearest, but I can still give them some positive reinforcement. And I happen to think that they look wonderfully green and lively, the envy of the entire neighbourhood,” Aziraphale says, tilting his empty glass towards a nearby leaf that looks particularly green.

Crowley takes his glasses off and hisses at the plants. “Don't listen to him, he can't save you from my wrath,” he says, and Aziraphale happens to think that he looks perfectly adorable trying to sound so mean and angry.

Of course, Aziraphale has long since thought that Crowley was a more adorable sort of evil than a proper threat. A menace, clearly, but of the endearing kind. Working collaboratively rather than against one another did wonders for his perspective of Crowley's work. And although he's retired now, that doesn't mean that he stopped being a menace. He actually talked one of their neighbours’ rose bushes into strategically withering until the remaining flowers were arranged in the shape of a particular piece of human anatomy that isn't generally shown in public. He didn't even cut them or use a miracle, he just talked to them, but that's the affinity that Crowley seems to have for plants.

As Aziraphale thinks that that particular neighbour can be best described with that piece of anatomy, he refrained from telling Crowley that he shouldn't do something like that. After all, Aziraphale is also retired and has no obligation to inspire good and push others away from evil. If Crowley wants to pester neighbours that annoy them both, he's free to do so.

“Oh, I don’t know they might have a guardian angel of sorts. Retired, of course,” Aziraphale says, giving the plants a wink.

They do seem a bit confused if they should be getting scared or not, and Crowley is the one who understands plants, so maybe Aziraphale should defer to his expertise, as he’s not sure if being confused is all that much better than being terrified.

“Alright, let's get you away from them before you start throwing blessings their way, I swear you are trying to undo all my hard work,” Crowley says, taking the bottle away from Aziraphale with the hand that already has the wine glass.

That happens to mean that both of them now have a free hand, and Crowley wastes no time in taking Aziraphale’s. He practically drags him away from the selection of plants that he has been taking specially good care of, and towards a corner of the garden that only has grass, left clear precisely so they can have a place to sit and have a picnic without being watched by Crowley's plants.

Aziraphale is sure that if they saw Crowley laying on his lap, practically melting over his touch as Aziraphale scratches his hair, then they would never fear him again. He might not be able to recover from that even if he could find it in his heart to burn a few of them to send a message, and he wouldn't do that.

Bringing a picnic towel there is still within the limits of miracles that they can perform, and Crowley opens the bottle for them, filling the glasses. Aziraphale had hoped to lure him back inside, as Crowley had spent quite enough time scolding his plants already, but he supposes that this is perfectly lovely. The sun is out, there is a nice breeze, and considering where they first met, gardens will always be a special place for them.

They share a bottle of white wine that might fill more glasses than one would assume looking at its volume, and laugh at old stories. For them, retirement is not the end of something, but a new beginning, a rebirth of sorts for both of them, where they can finally stop trying to be what is expected of them, and learn who they are together.
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