#buyer woes
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I've spent so much money this last month (got an ipad, went on a trip, have to get a better cover for the ipad... bought some clothes... books... helped with bills etc) so I'm gonna have to be strong and be frugal for another month or so. That small chuck of money I had saved up is. Mostly gone 🥺
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I was expecting to hear something from my real estate agent on Monday, cause that was the official closing date, but I didn't, and alternated between worrying that something had gone Horribly Wrong and believing that if something HAD then someone would definitely have been in touch, and so I didn't bother contacting her to ask.
Today I finally got over my various anxieties and texted her and she said she -did- text me Monday, but she was out of town and her service may not have been all that great (Monday I was also in the process of setting up my new phone, so it's possible the problem was on my end), and everything is fine.
Which is certainly great! everything is fine! but I was also expecting her to tell me about the last important step: how to pick up the keys. I feel like I shouldn't need to um ask this, you know?? Especially since it's been known for about 2 months that the sellers would be staying in the house for 10 days past closing so the usual "sign and get the keys on the spot" process wasn't going to be possible.
#god dammit#angst and woe#she has not been the greatest buyer's agent#not terrible but#there've been a number of things where i read something online and thought#shouldn't my agent have informed me of this?
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_ 𝐀 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 _
‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader
‣ requested by anon ‣ 4,2k words
‣ After the ruthless pirate Captain Connor kidnapped you; a mermaid, your situation seems hopeless. Until another outlaw appears who has a score to settle with Connor and ends up freeing you along the way. Destiny or not - there is a connection quickly forming between you...
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ yn got kidnapped and treated badly, violence, mention of injuries/blood, language
Slowly, the distant gunshots faded to peaceful twitter and rustling of an insular rainforest. The Sinister Lady was lost to the firepower of another ship; a huge vessel with imposing black sails.
Captain Connor was cursing a pirate named Jack Sparrow when less and less of his prized possession was seen above the water surface.
The reason for the crew's obvious fear of this man, whoever he was, was beyond you. However, you overheard two men whispering about a chart Connor had stolen some months ago.
Much to your chagrin your abductor's new plan was to shake off Jack Sparrow in the uncharted part of this island. By foot.
The men who had been holding you hostage for over two months after your violent abduction in Whitecap Bay didn't care in the slightest that you were used to a tail, not legs.
A faint sigh of destiny told you that there was no use in running from the man who was coming for the crew of miscreants around you.
But could dying today really be worse than constantly awaiting death?
You raked your neck to get a last glimpse of the unfamiliar ship before the path would be peppered with bushes and Ramón trees.
“You! Sea whore!“ the first mate suddenly barked at you, yanking at the rough metal chain that was locked around your wrists.
Blood was smeared on your skin from how sharp the metal was. Your legs hurt from how far they had already made you walk.
Not daring to look him in the eye, you simply lowered your head. The consequences for misbehaving were ugly.
“Not tha' hard“ he muttered in a disgusting slur. “Ne'er slow down, or else I put a bullet in ye pre'y head“.
Resilience was weighing down on you like a barely comforting blanket. But you knew there was no use of resistance.
You had tried.
Another filthy pirate caught up with the first mate, exchanging glances of egotism with him.
“Ye know, I'll get meself a whole lotta wenches with all tha coins from sellin'er“ he growled, showing off his rotting, black teeth in the process.
A cold sensation of repulsion and woe cascaded down your spine, reminding you that your buyer could be even worse. Vertebra by vertebra.
Your skin began to burn with every minute you spent separated from the sea. Any water.
Oh, how you missed surging through the vast ocean.
But, frankly, you did not miss any of your sisters after they had left you behind with Connor. Most likely they thought you were dead by now.
That is if they were still thinking about you at all.
Every step was exhausting as you were still getting used to walking on your legs, let alone climbing. A painful hiss of surprise escaped your lips as a sharp stone pierced your right foot.
Immediately, the Captain stormed towards you, fury and annoyance written all over his wrinkly face.
“Wha' a sissy, you are. Pull in them hideous fangs and shut it!“ the man growled, spitting on the moist ground only a few inches from where you stood.
You were already tensing, awaiting a rough, painful pull on the chains but your legs were fast enough to keep up.
Coercion seemed to have been a potent teacher after all.
Finally, the seemingly endless topical forest around you broke apart and revealed a small glade with a lake. You could't help but allow a wistful sigh at the sight.
Your home.
“Now we hope Sparrow drops followin' us in 'ere and we can continue head south for Port Felice on tha morrow“ Captain Connor announced earning a collective “Aye“ from his crew.
“I shall spare you the trouble of hopin' then, eh?“ a foreign, male voice echoed from behind a tall bush.
Connor's men rapidly drew their pistols and swords, eyes frantically searching for the voice's source.
Must be Jack Sparrow, you concluded, unsure of what to expect before a strange yet handsome looking man emerged from the greens.
His dark eyes, underlined in black, were trained on Connor and his first mate. He overlooked you sitting on the mossy ground.
“Sparrow“ Captain Connor growled through gnashing teeth.
You were sure there was unease sparkling through his bitter gaze. After Sparrow just sunk his ship the default hostility of Connor's gaze wouldn't suffice.
“I'd tell yer men to stop threatenin' me, if I were you“ the man with brown dreadlocks and a tricorn hat suggested, leaning closer to Connor in a provocative way.
With so many weapons pointed at him, he did not seem to feel threatened in the slightest. Fearless, even.
If you were to die, maybe you would at least be able to watch this disgusting men around you bite the stranger pirate's bullet first.
Sparrow backed up again, now circling the two men in charge of the Sinister Lady's crew instead. “Luckily and conveniently, I happen to be me. Not you“ he added with a finger pointing at Connor then to himself, the perilous tone gone.
You fought the urge to giggle at the asynchrony of his words and gesture. After two months stripped of any joy, you felt an instant connection to the airy pirate.
“Lower yer weapons, damnit“. Connor finally gave the order, his honor clearly at stake.
A satisfied grin spread on Sparrow's handsome face when he clapped his hands together and rubbed them.
Weirdly, he was oozing pure dominance in the loose and relaxed way he composed himself. He was almost comfortable in this precarious situation.
Connor squinted his eyes at the man who had many colorful beads and silver charms woven within his braids.
“C'mon, what 'bout an accord? What do ye want?“.
You cocked your head slightly, confused by the way the usually so frigid and irreverent Captain acted in Sparrow's presence.
It pained you to know that he was somehow tamable and you had failed to do so all this time.
On the other hand, a shiver spread on your human thighs at the thought of what this Jack Sparrow must be capable of if a man like Connor obeyed him.
“The real question is; what do I not want? Right, Master Gibbs?“ Jack purred.
Another man, a little smaller with grey hair and chops, stepped out of the opaque ticket of the rainforest.
He scrutinized the crowd and eventually spotted you on the ground.
Your pupils widened at the unexpected eye contact before you tore them off him in a demure way - reluctant submissiveness that slaps, rusty chains and nights in the brig had taught you.
“Aye, cap'n“ the man, Master Gibbs, verbally agreed before you could feel his narrowed gaze on you once again.
“And wha' be it you don' want?“ Connor shot back, clearly growing impatient while his opponent seemed to revel in it even more.
“Me charts in the hands of another, you cowardly scallywag“ Jack finally dropped the playful façade again, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.
Connor swallowed behind a stone-like expression.
So all this was indeed about a chart... It must lead to some kind of fortune or riches, you thought, recalling the many treasures you were familiar with.
Only you would never tell a man about them. It was sister's law that a mermaid was to die rather than reveal the mysteries of the sea.
But were you still to obey their laws now that you were on your own?
“Tough! Went down with our ship ye sunk“ the first mate interfered, hatred dripping from his words like spit.
Jack just raised a brow, looking the man up and down like he was a bleating goat.
Once again you caught yourself at the brink of smiling.
“Who be you?“ he inquired, nodding in his direction with no urge to actually approach him.
Connor's head quickly turned to his first mate who was now overridden by his own boldness and approaching Jack with a bad idea.
“Tha one to tell ye bilge-sucking self that we don't have what ye want“ he began, a slur in his drunken voice “Send us to Davy Jones' locka or leave“.
Jack cocked his head, fingers twisting his mustache, as if considering what the man had just proposed.
“Meh... Am not leavin' just like that, says I-ahh“ the pirate Captain noted but his declaration ended in a huff when the first mate lunged at him.
You flinched, squeezing your eyes shut. Such kind of scenario wasn't new to you by now.
“Mother's love, Jack!“ Gibbs produced a pistol from his belt and didn't hesitate a second to shoot the wanton first mate.
Another shot rumbled through the rainforest, men were shouting and grunting.
At this point you were covering your ears with your hands, keeping your knees close to your chest. Chained and weakened outside your element, there was nothing you could do about the chaos anyway.
However, when the chains around your wrists began to rattle and draw blood again, you finally dared to look up.
Connor glared at you with painful defeat in his eyes. “Get up, beastie“ he snapped, his arm extending, ready to slap you across the face if you didn't obey fast enough.
But his arm got pulled down by Jack who appeared on Connor's side and was looking at you with what seemed like mesmerization.
And sorrow.
“I said release her not beat 'er“ Sparrow whispered in the Captain's ear, his deep tone an unmistakable threat. It set Connor's mouth in a hard line.
You stayed silent, not knowing if you were expected to say something while stunned by the prospect of the foreign pirate's words.
Did he mean it?
But why?
Mister Gibbs emerged from behind Jack, a rusty key ring in his rough hands.
“Human trafficking, the worst of sins it be“ he muttered when gently taking your wrists and sinking a big, black key in the lock of your chains.
Connor's face was twisted by many emotions, most of them shades of disarray and disgust. “She a monster. A whore of tha seas. No human“ he spat.
Gibbs frowned at the man's cruel words, their nature fueling his doing.
*click*
You couldn't suppress the beam of relief that spread on your face when the heavy chains slid from your hurt wrists for good.
“Ahhh“ Jack cooed, leaning down to catch your lowered gaze and giving you an equally gleeful smirk beneath raised brows “I tell ye what she is, mate“ he straightened his spine again, dragging your invested gaze up with him.
All the fear in your system evaporated.
“A gorgeous creature. And not deserving of yer wheelin' and dealin', savvy?“.
“Thank you, Mister Sparrow“ were the first cautious words you addressed to the mercurial yet friendly-looking pirate.
His smile became a crunched grimace, his pointer raised. “It's Captain, if you please“.
A silent 'oh' fled from your lips.
You didn't know what to do or say. But his gravelly chuckle at your confusion signaled that he had not taken any insult.
To your right Connor spread his arms, sighing.
“I did wha' ye asked. Now let us go“ he complained, his authority crumbling before the eyes of his crew.
Gibbs nudged Jack's side, his eyes mentioning to the trail where they initially came from.
“Actually, I don’t. And settin' her free was just what the high-up people call common courtesy“ Jack sauntered past Connor, his head high, savoring his honorable, non-piratey act.
But you didn't fail to see a hint of pain in his extravagant display.
Was he hurt? The smell of blood told you yes.
“You, missy“ he suddenly called out to you, his dark eyes crawling all over your human body, squinting at the many bruises “Remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow saved a mermaid“.
The charming pirate winked before gesturing to the lake. An invitation to take your freedom back.
At first, your steps were hesitant as you weaved past the crew members that had treated you like shit for the past two months. Nevertheless, enthusiasm was quick to infiltrate your veins when the sparkling water surface came closer.
You looked back one last time, seeing how Jack Sparrow offered you a warm smile of farewell before resigning to deal with Connor.
“What'r ye waitin' for, lass? The lake leads to the ocean through tunnels beneath“ Gibbs ripped your attention from the man whose husky voice would linger in your mind.
“You have my eternal gratitude“.
And with a quick dive you were gone.
The water felt like heaven's sweetest redemption engulfing your dried out body. Replaced by your tail, the unfamiliar sensation of having legs vanished.
It wasn't that you disliked them, but the circumstance of learning to walk could have been more pleasant.
Eventually, you got yourself back; your essence and courage.
What Jack did to those men didn't bother you in the least. Whether he killed them or let them live to return to your furious buyer without a mermaid...
They were pure evil. So were your sisters but never you.
Gibbs was right.
You ended up in a coral reef after swimming through narrow underwater tunnels that were carved in the islands volcanic landmass.
With your tail flailing and pushing your upper body above the surface, you looked around only to spot the ship with black sails half a mile away.
The sight of your bold rescuer and Master Gibbs in a dinghy made you smile. Him and his crew were returning to their ship.
You wondered where they would head next... what adventures this mysterious man had lived and was yet to have.
Curiosity got the better of you so you dived down, rapidly making your way to the longboat.
At least you would like to thank him one last time. It was more than in order after only hell knew what tribulations he had saved you from.
“Captain Sparrow?“ you gingerly called out for him, not wanting to startle the men to death.
“Aye?“ you heard his taken-aback question, seeing him turn and twist his upper body to find you; the source of this dulcet mermaid voice.
It made you laugh. Freely, now that no one would harm you again.
A member of his crew, missing one eye, poked Jack's arm and pointed out to where you floated in between gentle waves.
The pirate Captain's handsome face lit up with the same wide grin as it did after he had told Gibbs to unchain you.
“I see, haven't returned to yer sisters yet. Why's that?“ he queried, gold teeth reflecting the Caribbean sun's evening light.
“Have not“ you smiled, swimming closer and gripping the rim of the dinghy to keep yourself steady “I wanted to thank you again. Properly. For saving my life“.
The pirate gave a quick chuckle, waving off as if it was nothing.
To you it was everything.
Jack gently lifted your right hand from the wood, hoisting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to your wet skin. His lips were surprisingly soft and the beard tickled.
You giggled, enjoying his playful chivalry.
“Me, I'm a bad man, Missy. But a monster I'd be if I let an innocent, pretty woman suffer“.
Your giggle became a genuine beam. Fleeting was the worry what he might think of your fangs.
Master Gibbs cleared his throat, earning a slightly annoyed look of 'not now' by his Captain, whose gaze flickered back to you.
Another man, chubby with a few long, thin hair pushed Gibbs to the side as he spoke up “Don't let yerself be charmed by 'er, Cap'n. She's a mermaid!“.
The worried man's voice was filled with scepsis, still he awkwardly tried to shoot you a polite smile across the lines. It reminded you that no matter Jack's behavior, you were still to earn the crew's trust.
“Is there a way I could return the favor of saving me?“ you asked the Captain, your face twisted in guilt.
Jack disliked the way this emotion weighed heavy on your stunning face. But he couldn't think of something, so he remained silent.
A rare thing to happen for the witty Captain, as Gibbs realized.
Carefully, your tail began to flap and you pushed the dinghy towards the imposing, dark pirate vessel.
“Whoa! What's that?!“ it blurted out of one of the crewman, whose grip around the edges of the boat clawed.
It only spared them a bit of muscle power but it was the first 'helpful' thing your nervous mind came up with.
The Captain, who had his fingers playing with his braided beard, thinking, now pointed at the chubby man, calling him out.
“See?“ he began with a victorious shrug of his shoulders “Not vicious at all“.
Another quiet chuckle left your lips at his quirky nature.
Jack Sparrow seemed anything but a bad man.
As you arrived at the stern of the ship where the lines were cast for the crew to climb back up, Jack signaled them to go on.
“All hands, weigh anchor!! Get 'er ready to make way“ his commandeering tone sent an interesting ripple down your scales.
He turned his attention back to you, naturally making you smile again.
“Ye know, lass, there ain't no debt to be paid or anything. Mark me words“ he noted, his dark, mysterious eyes dwelling on your soft gaze.
Your mouth opened, but closed again as you reconsidered.
The Captain watched you intently, the corners of his eyes crinkled more and more with every second of looking at your face framed by wet, wavy hair.
“What about the chart you so desired?“ you ended up asking, the idea of you searching the wreck for him spreading in your keen mind.
But Jack shook his head, the charms and pearls in his dreadlocks jingling.
“Lassie, the ship exploded when we attacked. The chart's burnt to nothin' but ashes“.
The excitement of doing him a favor sunk at his words, dragging the corners of your mouth along.
Suddenly, you felt the back of Jack's hand grazing your cheek. Your eyes shot up. The memories of being mistreated were too fresh for your instincts not to be alerted.
However, the rough hand stilled, an unspoken ask for consent in the pirate Captain's underlined eyes.
You granted him a smile, weirdly relishing in the sensation of his touch. So different to what you were used to by now.
So... good.
“Believe you me, it be satisfaction enough to know that this rat Connor will be returnin' to Blackbeard empty-handed, savvy?“ he snickered, ignoring the stinging in his hand.
Not really listening to his words, you slowly found yourself the one who was enchanted.
But then there was this smell again...
Your nostrils flared as you realized it was his hand that had been cut by Connor's nasty first mate. Bastard. It reminded you of the times he had slapped or yanked you like a doll.
Without Sparrow you would have just given up any hope someday.
Just speaking what was on your mind at that moment, you softly took his hand in yours.
“It would mean the world to me if I could return the favor of saving me“ you explained, eyes trained on the deep, bleeding cut in Sparrow's palm.
“You've proven I can trust you with my live even though I am, -was, no one to you“.
The pirate let you examine his wound, not feeling the slightest urge to pull away.
On the surface of his mind it vexed him how vulnerable he allowed himself to be with you, given he barely knew anything about you other than what you were.
But deep down he felt a blooming connection; trust as you said.
“Aye? Ye think me trusty?".
Slowly, giving him time to adjust to the burn of salt water in an open wound, you guided his hand to dip into the ocean.
With brows furrowed, mouth agape, Jack watched what you did as if spellbound.
“Yes...“ you affirmed, joy dancing across your heart when Jack's eyes sparkled at the sight of his wound now gone. “I have nowhere to go anyway. My sisters have betrayed me so they surely won't miss me“.
As you set his hand free, the pirate's pupils quickly narrowed on his wet palm, twisted it in the rays of sunlight as if the wound could be hidden by an inconvenient shadow.
“Wha' ?“.
“It's truly gone, Jack“ you giggled, not realizing how you had impulsively addressed him.
But he did, guiding his attention back to you and wearing a flirty smirk.
Maybe it was the right thing to give in to your request, he thought, admiring the way the entire beauty of the ocean laid within your smile.
“Well...“ he began to propose, standing up on the somewhat rickety dinghy to offer you his healed hand “if yer so keen on squarin', bonny, what say you to joinin' me crew for a while?“.
Almost reflexively, you accepted his hand.
The allure of a new, fresh start spread in your system when the Captain intertwined your fingers with his.
“I owe you after all, Captain Sparrow“ you grinned.
He gave a light-hearted chuckle before throwing his head back and shouting for his crew to haul the lines.
You let out an unbridled cry of joy as Jack pulled you in his arms and the crew hauled the two of you on board in a swift, fast move.
When the absence of water began to take it's toll on your body, you panicked in realization of your impending state of undress.
“I got ye, wait“ the Captain murmured when he set you down and slid his brown jacket off, revealing a loose white shirt that complimented his tanned torso.
The jacket was long enough to cover you all the way to your knees and had golden buttons to close it with. So very unlike the mere rags Connor had given you.
“Thank you“.
“Anytime. We still need to fetch ye a dress or somethin'. Master Gibbs?“ he called out only to be startled by his first mate already lingering close.
A conflicted look settled on his face as he stared at you through squinted eyes.
Then, he leaned over to Jack, voice lowered “Cap'n, ye know it's frightful bad-“
“Nonsense!“ the Captain promptly cut him off, patting his back with vigor.
“It's only bad luck if ye believe in trifles such as luck, and see bad in the lass in question but, as things look, firstly, am not enough a fool to buy into luck and, secondly-“ he interrupted his wordy excuse and gestured to you with a wink “don't tell me yer eyesight has worsened 'cause she's just a darlin'.“
Although, his winding, quick speech prompted confusion, you couldn't stop your lips from smiling.
This man was unlike anyone you had ever encountered; witty, affectionate and yet erratic.
You were already enraptured by his nature.
Out of the blue, the Captain turned on his heels to face you anew, eyes narrowed. “Missy, do you have a name?“ he queried in a low tone to which you hesitantly shook your head.
Names were uncommon among your sisters.
However, before shame could overtake your expression, Jack's face lit up with an idea.
“Oi! You lousy landlubbers-“ he called out to his crew, the authority infusing his voice with a rasp “Welcome Bonny as she'll be sailin' with us for a while“.
“AYE“ the crew quickly echoed back.
Many pairs of excited eyes rested on you, heads nodding appreciatively what you returned with a shy but positive smile.
Absentmindedly stepping back, you felt Jack's warm hand ghosting the small of your back, the other one already tight on the wheel.
With a sigh of relief and the bright feeling of security, you leaned in, accepting his gentle grip on your waist. His protectiveness was incredibly pacifying.
Looking back it the extraordinary Captain, you saw his gold teeth flash in a proud grin before he spoke up again.
“And no one's touchin' her. She's mine, savvy?“.
Feeling hot blood rush into your cheeks, you instinctively let your weight shift backwards until your back rested against his chest.
“We shall see about that, Captain“ you snickered, already feeling the ocean breeze blow your hair as the Black Pearl gained speed.
Unbeknownst to you, a playful pout reigned over Jack's face before it got replaced with the pure thrill of anticipation.
Hunger for the yet-to-be-found and yet-to-be-done.
It was even more intense this time with you by his side; a wondrous, genuine soul who trusted him just so.
After all the bad and lawless he had done, he was still a good man.
After all the bad and dull you had endured, a spirit of adventure was still in you.
A spirit you never thought you carried but there you were, settling a debt with Captain Jack Sparrow.
You began to hope it would take you a lifetime.
The many charms in his hair chimed when he leant down to your level, his mouth a mere inch from your ear. “Ever heard of the Amulet of Ponce de Léon's wife?“ his husky voice asked, eyes shifting from the horizon to you.
Sliding him a knowing, lively glance, you curled your lips up before they parted and whispered “I have, Captain. What do you want to know?“.
“First, I wan' ye to know that for you, it's just Jack...“
Off to stranger tides... Thank you for reading my hearties ❤︎
tags: @holdmytesseract @mochie85 @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus @groovyqueer
#jack sparrow x reader#potc#potc x reader#jack sparrow fic#jack sparrow x y/n#jack sparrow#pirates of the caribbean#captain jack sparrow#fanfiction#18+#thank you so much💗
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Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Snippet - A Smuggler's Tale of Woe
Silco shares a bedtime story with Mel.
Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO
Snippet:
Mel’s eyes search him, the gold edging into dark. "You've gone terribly quiet."
"I'm curious."
"Yes?"
"How often do you do this?"
"Take a Chancellor down to the Sumps, and have him until his legs give out?" She tips him a smile, artfully deceptive. "Not more than once a week."
"Oh, I don't doubt your ingenuity. But I do wonder if risk has become its own reward."
"What do you mean?"
"You remind me of a smuggler I once knew," Silco muses. "Brilliant fellow. A real head for business. Could steal a loaf from a miser's mouth, with not a crumb leftover.”
“Hmm,” she purrs. “He does sound familiar.”
“He knew he was clever, too. So, of course, he made his livelihood doing the undoable." Mel's hand is still in Silco’s hair, an idle caress. The rest of her concentration is on the thrum of his words against her belly: a whisper-song of warning. "His specialty was hefty hauls—jewels, spices, silks—that were too hot to handle. So hot, in fact, that they'd need a cooling-off period before they hit the market. Our smuggler had no patience for such tactics. His favorite game was to transport his goods at high noon—when the markets were at full bustle. A great risk, but one he relished. And why not? He was so canny that nobody ever suspected him."
"How did he manage it?"
"Covered every angle, didn't he? Smugglers are masters of timing. Like astrologers, really. They've a whole calendar of sunsets, half-moons, low tides, stars. All the celestial cues to plot their maneuvers. So our smuggler wasn't fazed by the hour. He knew when the buyers would be out in full force. Where the ships would dock. How the Patrolmen would change shifts. He'd plot every second in his mind. He'd unload his haul, in plain sight. He'd wait as the market crowds surged and the buyers closed deals. At the critical juncture, he'd whip into a blind corner—a blink of an eye—then slip back out. Then off the goods would go, still hot as sin, and yet so cold, the buyers didn't know the difference. And off he'd go, with coins in his pockets, and a grin as wide as the Sun Gates."
Mel tweaks a brow. "Diabolical."
"Sly as a fox, he'd say. The gods are on my side."
"Was he right?"
"There's a time and place for every god." Silco's scarred cheek nuzzles her belly. "But mortals do not share their calendars."
She is quiet for a moment. Then: "So what happened to him?"
"He took a risk," he says. "A foolish one, by his reckoning. He did the job the old-fashioned way: all by hand, no charts. When the Patrolmen showed up, they spotted the goods. Our smuggler was quick as lightning: he threw the crates back in the hold and gunned the engines. But one of the Patrolmen managed to clamber on board. A younger lad, new to the job. He saw the smuggler—tangled in the netting, dangling by a rope from the open hatch—and took a shot."
"And hit him?"
"Straight through the heart." Silco's breath is hot on her navel. "He dropped into the sea like a stone."
Mel's silence turns pensive. "Is there a moral to the story?"
"No moral. Only an ending."
"A smuggler's tale of woe."
"A smuggler's love of risk. They can't resist it. They make their living by defying common sense. They see danger, and they dive right into it."
"And that's us now?"
"Our game has high stakes. And it's in full public view. That's enough thrill to addle the sanest man."
Mel's eyelids flicker, a fracture in the sultry veneer. "Or woman."
"Quite."
#arcane#arcane league of legends#arcane silco#silco#arcane mel#mel#mel medarda#melco#silco x mel#forward (never forget)/xoxo#forward but never forget/xoxo#snippet
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Apple-y Ever After | Najimi Osana
Word Count: 2256
Setting: Najimi Osana x gn!reader, pining
Content Warnings: SFW, fluff, short, little angst
Summary: The draw of an Autumn Festival always brings out the playful nature of Najimi, and this year, drawn by the tale of soulmates determined by apples, you find yourself into a plot to tease Tadano and Komi.
[image is not mine]
The tender warm scent of orange osmanthus met the sweet smell of yakiimo. The cool of smoke caught by light breezes, dragged into the walkways. The nostalgic scent teasing the noses of wouldbe buyers, drawing them to food stalls. Sweet potato vendors greeting them eagerly, the warmth of their product a satisfying relief from the chill of the season.
The occasional savory skewer of matsutake mushrooms, accompanied by delectable grilled meats. Candy venders mixed into the food stalls, all eager to peddle their snacks. Festival goers enthralled by the scenery. Elders warmed by their teas; families snuggled into their children as they appraised the venders. Knit closely together in an attempt not to lose one another amongst the crowd. Their close quarters drawing warmth to their features. Toy makers providing a variety of novelties, dragonflies, vibrant lanterns, coveted kites and sparklers. Small fingers that grasped eagerly for a prize, the call of games dragging older siblings to stalls. School age kids charmed by their peers, playful as the weaved through the crowds; their laughter harmonious amongst the masses. Warm hues of chestnuts touched by the smoke of the grills, a welcomed cozy greeting from the chill of the season. The touch of fall settling into the fading of the day, drawing not only the glow of lit festival lanterns overhead, but the small chill at your fingertips. Waves of oranges envied of persimmons, reds of rouge drawn from Japanese maple leaves, and the touch of golden leaves that settled to the ground. Touched the limited space between festival goer. The edging of ribbons dancing upon the autumn breeze. Bearing the wishes of inscribers, colorful in the dwindling hours. Edged together, pressed into one another. The draw of your nose, pink and chilled despite the awning of the stall. The touch of fabric, and waves offering only a small shelter of warmth.
The heat upon your cheeks not elicited by the warmth of the stall. The touch of playful banter ringing in your ears. The joy vibrant upon their cheeks, touched at the corner of gingerbread kissed eyes. Long eyelashes teased as their wide mouth released their series of chuckles. Mischievous as the pull of the back of their hand meeting the touch of their lips, feigning a hushed laugh. Not contained amongst the jovial atmosphere. The edges of their hair touched upon the high of their cheeks, the lavender drawing the growing rise of your blush. Najimi’s frisky behavior having drawn you out, guided by their own intentions. At the time, you had little understanding of why they would bring up *that* memory, threatened to expose you to classmates—it certainly seemed an unnecessary blackmail. You could think of a number of individuals who would seize the opportunity to accompany them on a date. So upon being coerced so roughly, the mention of childhood woes exposed to the light, you hadn’t fought tangle of Najimi’s overly familiar small hand that had nabbed your own. Dragged you to your bedroom, greeted your parents as though they were home themselves before plunging into your closet. Raided the contents of our wardrobe. Shameless remarks of how little style your selection offered. The touch of their overall short shorts lacking modesty, the twirl of their hips revealing that as always, their own clothing selection had been intentional. The light color complementary, the edge of their turtle neck long sleeve tucked underneath flirting at the draw of their neck. Their fashion choices drawing melancholy as their words inflicted invisible wounds. All well-meaning, hurtful regardless as they selected specific items. Long pants, touched upon ankle boots, and the relaxed touch of plaid. Comfortable, and breezy, Najimi’s teasing grin all too aware of how the chill often touched upon you. They insisted, they needed you dolled up—you were so pretty, but today, they needed you. So much so, that they had threatened blackmail—and outward confusion as to the way you had thrown them from your room to change.
You should have known better, this was Najimi Osana you were considering. Once again. Toyed against compliments, shuttering at thoughts of an rare outing together. Hinted about the intimacy implication, how they had assured you that they had no interludes—this time was secured for the two of you. You. Fool.
No, at the time, the decision had certainly seemed spontaenous as it often did when Osana was involved. The warm of their invitaiton touching your cheeks. They complimented you. Considered how much of you must be a masochist to bend to their will at a moment’s notice, or allow them to drag you to the festival. Fingers interlaced. The melancholy at your heart as you pressed a smile, all too aware that this was just the nature of your childhood friend. Playful. Familiar. Even if it elicited the blush upon your cheeks, or left your heart longing for inedible rejection. Yet, as you stood here now. The touch of Najimi’s hands upon your shoulders. Your knees collapsed to your chest. Their energy radiating as they shook your bones eagerly. The chill of the season fading from your view, as the brow drew upon your face. Face to face with the class queen, the beauty of her long eyelashes. Hair as black as the night sky, delicate features that would shame any doll, Komi’s eyes revealing her resolve. The touch of pink nothing compared to the horror Tadano’s expression revealed. The draw of his fingers to his mouth, shooing Najimi. Demanding they stop torturing Komi, insisting the apple tale had been nothing more than folk lore, and Najimi was just… well, being Najimi.
Your invitation settled into disappointment… You were not invited on a tryst. Of course not. It’s Najimi. Rather, you had been a pawn in their game, pitted against the class beauty the flicker of apple carvings revealing names as the floated in the barrel. Rolled upon the gentle shake of the water, the way Najimi shook your shoulders as though you were a ragdoll, your hands had leaned upon the wooden barrel for support. The stall keeper laughing joyously offering his support for Komi’s desires. The names, characters that had been etched into the skin of the apple upon Najimi dragging you to the stall. His warm voice detailing the apple folk lore. One born of European beliefs, secured amongst the orchard’s produce. His aged hands gently carving into the flesh of the fruit, the names he had been provided. Najimi quick to offer their own as well as Tadano’s, the man shared the tale of bobbing apples. To secure the apple upon your lips, the name revealed to reflect your soulmates. Najimi and Tadano’s own attempts having landed an apple prior to your own, thus eliciting Najimi’s challenge whether Komi’s apple would match. Your childhood friend’s prodding having pitted you against Komi despite the oblivious way Tadano tried to defer the showdown. You had fallen for Osana’s games, again. The touch of the wood between your fingertips. The ripple of the water beneath your grasp buzzing with the energy of the companion at your side, as well as the intimidating light of Komi’s eyes. Her eyelashes long and luminious as she willed herself to breath. The stall keeper beginning the countdown. You had been had. Again. Next time, you would urge your mother to reject their advances, regardless of what sweet compliments they paid her. Never again, you told yourself before sucking the cold air between your nostrils, the plunge of water shattered and cooled into your hair. As though the dropping temperatures of the season had been revealed beneath the surface of the water, faintly aware that Komi had targeted her apple. The snip of apple flesh between your teeth. The jerk of your head compulsory flinging water into the air as you grasped for breath. The fruit bruised and skewered by your bite. The chill of th temperature drawn at the ends of your hair. The droplets touched upon your bangs, hitting the high of your cheeks. Shuttered against your eyelashes. The praise of the shop keeper teasing and warm, edged his elbows against your short companion. The heat of the stall having touched upon Najimi’s complexion. Their eyes wide, revealing the warmth of caramel that they hiddened, their tongue just as sweet upon the way they averted their eyes from meeting with their own. Quick to push upon Tadano, demanding he pay the determined fee—“T-Tadano, you owe [FN] takoyaki,” they exclaimed. Quick to divert their attention. Pushing Tadano from the stall, the urge of their movements lost upon you. Whether Komi had procured the apple of her desires, you weren’t sure. Your eyes left to gaze upon the gentle flesh, the touch of golden yellow that had begun to set into the rose petal hue of the apple. The luster of the fruit caught between the lanterns, appraised between your fingertips. The melancholy that settled at your heart, the bashful retreat procured by the name carved into the apple.
Najimi.
The fall of your shoulders as your eyes traced the characters. The tremble of your lip. Stupid you told yourself with a sigh, all too aware of how flighty Najimi’s heart could be. Playful, and teasing, despite the care you had long since cultivated towards your childhood friend, you had been all too aware that the way in which they regarded you was of little significance. As familiar and embracing to others, you were just their friend. Reprimanded your daydreams aware of the way Komi’s eyes peeked at you through her bangs. The rise of panic settling in her chest, nearly vibrating in the way she regarded you. The splutter of vowels you could not comprehend. Shattered and anxious, her fingers fumbling. Rattled against keys, the realization of unease you had drawn in her, anxious and shattered. “Are you okay?,” typed against the phone keys.
“Y-yes,” you reassured her, delicate to regard her. What it was you were feeling--- you shouldn’t let it ruin Komi’s night. The small bit of pride in which she had faced the masses to join your excursion. It wasn’t fair to allow your disappointment to drag her down.
Forcing an uneasy smile. Told yourself to submerge the ache of your heart until you were home. Until you were in bed.. then you would allow yourself to cry. Ah, not that you had even been rejected, really to have been rejected would have meant that you had padded out of the friend zone if only for a moment… in which you had not. Nor did you suspect that anyone had ever done so with Osana, or if they in fact, had a zone outside of friends… did they even have enemies? Shaking the thoughts from your head, the touch of your bend of yoru back, attempting to bid the shop keeper farewell. His words reassuring, barely offered the time to express you ha—what you did not hear. The draw of fingers that interlaced between your own. Tugged backwards. Loud and expressive, demanding your attention as though a jealous child. “Say AAAAAAh!” Najimi demanded. The tray of Takoyaki decorated with hearts, over filled with toppings and sloshed upon the toothpick. Piping hot in the way they pressed the octopus to your lips. Dragging you fro the premises, enthusiastic to explore the festival.
The smile upon the shop keeper’s lips warm and knowing. The touch of age that had marked his whiskers. Many years spent sharing the tales of soulmates decided by the passing of the autumn fall. Etched into tradition, as well as the apples of the season. The passing of time having gifted him to witnessing a variety of relationships, and how they had progressed as time went on. Some couples clearly smitten in their early years, intertwine long before they had visited his stand. Others, bitter and snip at each other in their formative years, bound together and combative in their age, their children reflecting the same competitive nature. The passage of time had been the very reason he set up his festival stall every year. The growth of relationships, warmed and playful had provided him comfort over the years following the loss of his wife, such as the first year he had been coerced by a friend to set up shop.
His first costumers had been small children. Drawn by the promise of festival treats, playful as children often are. A noticeably timid child dragged along by their friend who expressed the utmost confidence in their skills. Dressed in flamboyant colors, the child’s voice had boomed despite their petite size. The touch of their lavender hair and their large smile had not faded from his memories. Nor had the way they had turned to their companion and declared that they would be the one to retrieve their friend’s apple--- they would show them! The desperate plop, struggle of water, and over enthusiasm. The tremble of their small frame, resolved. determined. Pressing their luck with each bob. The shopkeeper, had admittedly expressed concern for the child's future-- gambling was not the answer to a happy life. Though it had done little to shake the young one's resolve. It was though a fire had been lit in the child’s resolve as they attempted time and time again before proudly thrusting their secured apple into their friend’s face. Their laugh jovial, and loud. Proclaiming they would be together forever.
The memory eliciting a smile from the shop keeper as he watched you slip from view, once again dragged from his stall by your over enthusiastic friend. Still excited to tow you along, the affection slipping from your understanding. “Perhaps, I will see you again,” he whispered to the apples forgotten in your departure. Placed them snug against each other. Touched the edge of not quite rippened fruit together. THe touch of the flesh revealing that there was still some time to come, but in no time at all, the apples would be ripe and ready. Side by side.
Najimi Osana.
[FN, LN].
#komi can't communicate x reader#najimi osana x reader#osana najimi#komi can't communicate#komi san wa komyushou desu#komi can't communicate fluff
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The Norwood Builder pt 1
Definitely remember the name, but do I remember the story? That is the eternal question. Well, hopefully not eternal. It should be answered soonish.
“London has become a singularly uninteresting city since the death of the late lamented Professor Moriarty.”
Woe, my arch enemy who tried to kill me and very nearly succeeded several times (but who only appeared in one story) is dead. I don't know if this is more indicative of Holmes' character or ACD's lamenting 'look, I raised the stakes so high that time that I'm never going to be able to do that again'. Probably both.
“The community is certainly the gainer, and no one the loser, save the poor out-of-work specialist, whose occupation has gone."
Watson has literally told us twice that 1895 was insanely busy for you. You did a case for the pope. You dealt with that canary guy. Your melodrama is noted, sir.
At the time of which I speak Holmes had been back for some months, and I, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to share the old quarters in Baker Street. A young doctor, named Verner, had purchased my small Kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the highest price that I ventured to ask—an incident which only explained itself some years later when I found that Verner was a distant relation of Holmes's, and that it was my friend who had really found the money.
Holmes really Did That, huh? Wow. Guy has no chill in so many ways. "Come and live with me, Watson, and give up your practice! I'm sure you'll find someone to take it on. What's that? A convenient buyer of whom I know nothing. Nothing at all. Any family resemblance is purely coincidental!"
As it opened there came a tumultuous rush into the hall, rapid feet clattered up the stair, and an instant later a wild-eyed and frantic young man, pale, dishevelled, and palpitating, burst into the room.
What does 'palpitating' mean when referring to a human person?
Ah, so just sort of shaking, then. I've never seen it used like that.
He became conscious that some apology was needed for this unceremonious entry.
I mean, he just entered the dramatic bitch house dramatically, I'm not sure he needs to apologise. You and Holmes do worse once a day and twice on Sundays. Let the boy be dramatic. He's probably earned it. He fits right in, anyway.
"I am the unhappy John Hector McFarlane.”
Once again, I see this and my brain immediately asks if there's a 'happy John Hector McFarlane' out there somewhere, just living his best life, not even palpitating slightly.
“I am sure that with your symptoms my friend Dr. Watson here would prescribe a sedative."
I'm sure he would rather prescribe brandy.
...it was not difficult for me to follow his deductions, and to observe the untidiness of attire, the sheaf of legal papers, the watch-charm, and the breathing which had prompted them.
OK, so Watson's doing really well at working out Holmes' thought processes from his conclusions.
But also, Freemasons really just walking around with their secret society symbol hanging from their watch chain? How is that a secret society?
"I am the most unfortunate man at this moment in London. For Heaven's sake don't abandon me, Mr. Holmes!"
Srsly, my boy is dramatic and he has found his people.
“Arrest you!” said Holmes. “This is really most grati—most interesting.”
Good cover. A+. No one noticed a thing.
“Here it is, and with your permission I will read it to you."
Odd decision to read the article rather than telling your own version of events. But I do love a dramatic reading.
And Watson, you're a bit slow with that brandy. Where is your medical expertise, did you sell it along with your practice to Sherlock's cousin?
"He has had the reputation of being a man of eccentric habits, secretive and retiring. For some years he has practically withdrawn from the business, in which he is said to have amassed considerable wealth."
How very Bilbo Baggins of him. This smells like a motive. I wonder if he has Sackville-Oldacre relatives.
"The police theory is that a most sensational crime has been committed, that the victim was clubbed to death in his own bedroom, his papers rifled, and his dead body dragged across to the wood-stack, which was then ignited so as to hide all traces of the crime."
They're really throwing all the information available out there to the public, huh? No concept of security or secrecy in Victorian London, oh no. We have to put all the dirty details in the paper for everyone to see.
"The conduct of the criminal investigation has been left in the experienced hands of Inspector Lestrade, of Scotland Yard..."
Oh hai, Lestrade!
"I knew nothing of this affair until I was in the train, when I read what you have just heard."
Yeah, that'll fuck up your morning and no mistake.
“‘Here is my will,’ said he. ‘I want you, Mr. McFarlane, to cast it into proper legal shape. I will sit here while you do so.’"
No pressure. Just write up this legal document in front of me. Also, it's a will mystery. I love a good will mystery.
"I found that, with some reservations, he had left all his property to me."
Of course he has, I knew he would from the moment you said he knew your parents. Also, this does nothing to make you less of a suspect.
Mr Oldacre is also a member of the dramatic bitch club, it seems. You couldn't just write out your will somewhere else. You had to get the beneficiary to write it out without even telling him he was the beneficiary? No one in this story has the slightest bit of chill.
"The will was duly finished, signed, and witnessed by my clerk."
This feels like a conflict of interest. I feel like the person receiving the inheritance shouldn't be the one to write up the will. I know that Mr Oldacre still had to read and sign it and there was a witness and everything, but it still feels weird.
"‘Remember, my boy, not one word to your parents about the affair until everything is settled. We will keep it as a little surprise for them.’"
I'm guessing that this is because the McFarlane parents have crucial information, such as 'he's a terrible person. we hate him. he will try to frame you for murder' or 'we have never met this man before in our lives'.
We are now getting into the familiar vibe of 'rich person coerces young not-rich person into doing things against their better judgement by promising them money'.
"He remarked that we must not disturb the housekeeper. He showed me out through his own French window, which had been open all this time.”
“It strikes me, my good Lestrade, as being just a trifle too obvious,” said Holmes.
I know I say that all the time, but I have the benefit of knowing that I am reading mystery fiction and therefore the most obvious solution is probably not the correct one. Holmes is just being contrary by saying it here. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred the obvious solution is going to be the correct one.
I agree that it would be a stupid move on Mr McFarlane's part, but even so you can't really fault Lestrade for following the evidence to this point.
“Why should the tramp burn the body?”
“For the matter of that why should McFarlane?”
“To hide some evidence.”
The obvious conclusion to draw here is that it's not Mr Oldacre's body. And he has buggered off somewhere quite merrily with the contents of his safe having suitably fucked over Mr McFarlane for as yet unknown reasons. Hope it wasn't a random passing tramp that he beat to death and burnt. Because that's a dick move. If you're going to kill someone, at least have a personal reason for it.
"I dare say that in the course of the day I shall drop in at Norwood and see how you are getting on.”
I assume after your trip to Blackheath? To see what the elder McFarlanes have to say about Mr Oldacre and if they've ever met him. Maybe had him bury someone in a wall or under a patio for them. Normal things.
I don't seem to remember this one, either. Man I really did not pay attention as a child, huh? Makes it more fun this time around, though.
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Podcasts are hearteningly enshittification resistant
In the enshittification cycle, a platform lures in users by giving them a good deal at first, then it lures in business mers (advertisers, sellers, performers) by shifting the surplus from users to them; finally, it takes all the surplus for itself, turning the whole thing into a pile of shit:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys
If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/27/enshittification-resistance/#ummauerter-garten-nein
When a company is neither disciplined by competition nor by regulation, enshittification inevitably ensues. If a user or business customer can’t jump ship — because of lock-in, high switching costs or network effects — then companies are powerfully tempted to mistreat them — not out of sadism, but instead to harvest their surplus and goose the company’s profits.
Half the results on the first five screens of an Amazon search result are ads. Amazon’s business customers spend $31b/year on payola, bidding to be at the top of Amazon’s search results: the top results aren’t the best matches to your search, they’re the matches that are most profitable for Amazon.
But out of the remaining half, many of the results are Amazon’s lookalike products: Amazon coerces sellers into shipping via Amazon warehouses (otherwise their products won’t be Prime eligible), and this not only lets Amazon extract 45%+ out of every sale in junk fees, it also lets them see the bills-of-lading that identify the manufacturers of products, whom Amazon can approach to make a knock-off.
These Amazon house-brand copycat products are cheaper than the original, because Amazon doesn’t charge itself >45% fees. It can allocate some of the surplus to shoppers — offering a discount on the price the OEM has had to inflate to cover Amazon’s fees — but keep the majority for its shareholders.
This is enshittification: Amazon is a place where buyers hold the sellers hostage (because Amazon is where all the buyers are, and the buyers are prepaying for shipping a year at a time via Prime), but the buyers can’t leave either, because all the sellers are at Amazon. The sellers don’t want to be on Amazon, but all the buyers are there, so…
Hypothetically there’s another way to discipline Amazon’s appetites as it gorges itself on all of us, buyer or seller: regulation. Much of Amazon’s conduct falls under the broad terms “unfair and deceptive,” which the FTC has broad authority to prohibit and punish under Section 5 of the FTC Act.
https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge
The FTC is undergoing a renaissance under Lina Khan, its most effective chair in forty years, and she is aggressively wielding her Section 5 powers to hold corporations to account, but the FTC has two generations’ worth of policy debt to pay down, and enshittification is everywhere, so Amazon and other firms generally behave as though there was no threat of regulatory punishment for even the most egregious conduct. They don’t have to outrun Lina Khan, they just have to outrun all the other firms she has in her crosshairs.
Corporations, unfettered by competition or regulation, are free to pursue enshittification to the bitter end: once they have their users locked in, they use them as bait to lure in business customers, and once they are locked in, they can grab all the value for themselves, surfing the line between “so useless everyone quits” and “just useful enough that everyone keeps holding each other hostage.”
Enshittification is a dangerous strategy, and not just because that’s a hard wave to surf. Woe betide a platform that enshittifies prematurely, before its users or business customers are too locked in to simply say, “fuck this, I’m out of here.” That’s an expensive mistake, one that can cost a company all the consumer and supplier subsidies it bought with its shareholders’ cash.
It’s a mistake that Spotify just made, when it pursued its podcast exclusivity strategy, blowing more than a billion dollars buying up podcasts and then locking them up inside Spotify’s walled garden, unreachable unless you use Spotify’s client — other podcatchers need not apply:
https://variety.com/2022/digital/news/spotify-podcast-revenue-loss-2022-1235288180/
It’s easy to see why Spotify liked this idea. Real podcasts are as open as you could want — encoded in the open MP3 standard, distributed over the open RSS standard — and can be subscribed to and played back by any client. There’s no practical way to spy on podcast listeners, nor to enshittify their experience in other ways, say, by blocking ad-skipping.
For eshittification-thirsty corporate sociopaths, this user-centric openness is a bug, not a feature. Apple was the first company to try to enclose podcasts, but while it dominated the sector, it never controlled it fully, not least because anyone could leave Apple’s walled garden and subscribe to the same podcasts using another client with just a couple clicks. Competition disciplines companies.
Disciplined by competition and the ease of user switching, the podcast-encloser brigade have proceeded with caution — even where they publish their own podcasts, they haven’t tried to make them exclusive to their walled gardens, instead offering real podcast feeds that anyone could subscribe to. One notable — and shameful — exception is the BBC, which has abandoned its leadership on open standards and open protocols and moved its flagship podcasts inside its proprietary BBC Sounds app, presumably because this will help it commericalize its offerings for non-license-fee-payers (part of the long transformation of the BBC from a Public Service Broadcaster focused on Reithian values to a glorified streaming service for Americans, a transformation that started when the BBC killed the Creative Archive in favor of the Iplayer).
Where others were cautious, Spotify was reckless. It bought popular podcasts and podcast networks, then severely enshittified their programs by locking them inside Spotify’s walled garden. Audience numbers plummeted, demoralizing podcast creators who were uninterested in the future date when Spotify and its Magic Underpants Gnomes would figure out how to wring more money out of the tiny cohort that stuck around.
Today, podcast advertising rates are falling off a cliff. Short on users and ad dollars, Spotify’s enshittification plan is looking like a self-inflicted wound. Even the Obamas cancelled their deal and switched to Audible, a monopolist that leads the world in enshittification but who had the good sense not to make its podcasts platform-exclusive:
https://variety.com/2022/digital/news/obamas-audible-deal-spotify-1235299775/
Writing in Variety, Tyler Aquilina pens a eulogy for podcast exclusivity, quoting Parcast Union and Gimlet Union, the unions for Spotify acquisitions Gimlet and Parcast: “[exlusives] caused a steep drop in listeners — as high as three quarters of the audience for some shows.”
https://variety.com/vip/podcast-exclusivity-is-quickly-becoming-an-outdated-strategy-1235495652/
That is a hell of a rush for the exits. What’s more, podcasts that leave Spotify’s walled garden — after their exclusive deals expire — gain listeners (though not as many as they lost).
Podcasting is an open technology built out of open technologies. We have damned few of those left. The openness of podcasts once allowed wild experimentation, with new kinds of audio made by new kinds of creators finding new kinds of audiences.
The drive to enshittify, unfettered by regulation or competition, has allowed many of the world’s largest, stupidest tech companies to unhinge their jaws and tempt podcast makers and listeners to traipse blithely onto their slathering tongues. They were always going to snap their jaws shut eventually — just because Spotify lacked the executive function to wait for a fully ripened enshittification before biting down, it doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods.
[Image ID: A scary abandoned room. The back wall is stained with the Spotify podcast selection screen. In the center of the room is an oversized mousetrap, baited with the Spotify logo.]
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God's Judgment on the Earth
Behold, the LORD lays waste the earth
and leaves it in ruins.
He will twist its surface
and scatter its inhabitants—
people and priest alike, servant and master,
maid and mistress, buyer and seller,
lender and borrower, creditor and debtor.
The earth will be utterly laid waste
and thoroughly plundered.
For the LORD has spoken this word.
The earth mourns and withers;
the world languishes and fades;
the exalted of the earth waste away.
The earth is defiled by its people;
they have transgressed the laws;
they have overstepped the decrees
and broken the everlasting covenant.
Therefore a curse has consumed the earth,
and its inhabitants must bear the guilt;
the earth’s dwellers have been burned,
and only a few survive.
The new wine dries up, the vine withers.
All the merrymakers now groan.
The joyful tambourines have ceased;
the noise of revelers has stopped;
the joyful harp is silent.
They no longer sing and drink wine;
strong drink is bitter to those who consume it.
The city of chaos is shattered;
every house is closed to entry.
In the streets they cry out for wine.
All joy turns to gloom;
rejoicing is exiled from the land.
The city is left in ruins;
its gate is reduced to rubble.
So will it be on the earth
and among the nations,
like a harvested olive tree,
like a gleaning after a grape harvest.
They raise their voices, they shout for joy;
from the west they proclaim the majesty of the LORD.
Therefore glorify the LORD in the east.
Extol the name of the LORD, the God of Israel
in the islands of the sea.
From the ends of the earth we hear singing:
“Glory to the Righteous One.”
But I said, “I am wasting away! I am wasting away!
Woe is me.”
The treacherous betray;
the treacherous deal in treachery.
Terror and pit and snare await you,
O dweller of the earth.
Whoever flees the sound of panic
will fall into the pit,
and whoever climbs from the pit
will be caught in the snare.
For the windows of heaven are open,
and the foundations of the earth are shaken.
The earth is utterly broken apart,
the earth is split open,
the earth is shaken violently.
The earth staggers like a drunkard
and sways like a shack.
Earth’s rebellion weighs it down,
and it falls, never to rise again.
In that day the LORD will punish
the host of heaven above
and the kings of the earth below.
They will be gathered together
like prisoners in a pit.
They will be confined to a dungeon
and punished after many days.
The moon will be confounded
and the sun will be ashamed;
for the LORD of Hosts will reign
on Mount Zion and in Jerusalem,
and before His elders with great glory.
— Isaiah 24 | The Reader’s Bible (BRB)
The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean.Bible. All rights Reserved.
Cross References: Genesis 3:17; Genesis 7:11; Leviticus 19:9; Leviticus 25:36-37; Leviticus 26:39; Deuteronomy 23:19-20; Joshua 23:15; Job 12:25; Job 18:8; Psalm 144:14; Isaiah 2:12; Isaiah 2:19; Isaiah 5:6; Isaiah 5:11; Isaiah 12:5-6; Isaiah 14:31; Isaiah 16:10; Isaiah 23:1; Isaiah 33:9; Micah 2:4; Matthew 24:29; 2 Thessalonians 1:12; 2 Peter 3:10; Revelation 6:15; Revelation 18:22; Revelation 20:2
#God#judgment#Earth#Isaiah 24#Book of Isaiah#Old Testament#BRB#Berean Reader's Bible#Bible Hub#Berean Bible
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@zosalot @ashyslashywilliams Hope you don’t mind that I grouped your asks
Renfield headncaons: Only child. Born in February (woe, Aquarius be upon ye). Massive sweet tooth. Almost supernaturally good at cultivating plants. Paints his nails occasionally. Doesn’t “believe” in colour coordinating, he just rides the vibes. Afraid of the dark. Has died several times. Insides are a fucked up mess of scar tissue (I’d link to my fic about it here but I don’t have my phone bookmarks here). Flinches at loud noises. Makes money by selling off Dracula’s various antiquities to buyers who collect rare garbage. Not yet ready to date because he’s not sure what he needs/wants. Regards Rebecca like a big sister (”Dude, you’re old enough to be someone’s great-grandpa! How am I a ‘big sister’ to you?” “Ah, well, it’s more of a vibe, really...”). Has preferences for bugs- certain species of spider have a chocolatey silkiness, some venomous bugs are spicy, etc.
Dracula headcanons: Gets blood drunk (like regular drunk, but with blood). Can indeed control rats with his mind #KevinWasRight. Absofuckinglutely wooed Renfield to be his servant in the same manner he’d woo ladies and gents to bed. Bisexual disaster. Very critical of vampire portrayals in media- like some of them are funny but other times he’s like “that’s just insulting. I’m very nearly feeling bad for the people that perpetrated this nonsense.” Finicky eater obvs. For him, the ‘purity’ of a human’s blood has less to do with their moral standing and more with what they ingest- which is why he couldn’t make a meal out of that dirtbag ska cocaine guy #DOUGISTRASH
#renfield#renfield 2023#the blood drunk thing is mostly bc nic cage sited mrs robinson from The Graduate as an influence in his performance
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Feeling very down right now, just want to vent...
(Treating this like my old Livejournal since I don't really have anywhere else I can complain LMAO)
I've been out of work since August after completely running out of FMLA.
Between getting severe COVID in February and being out recovering for 6 weeks -- and then with Long COVID making the chronic fatigue and migraines I already had even worse -- I ended up missing so much work that I used all the time FMLA allowed before the year was even half over.
I'm living with my parents now and don't really have income except my savings; honestly most days I don't have the physical or mental spoons to even contemplate applying for even a part-time remote position yet. Thankfully I also have a retirement fund I am slowly cashing in, even if that also isn't really sustainable long-term. (But me losing my insurance will definitely be an issue soon when I run out of refills for my prescription meds...)
I'm aware that I've been pretty isolated since August; I've gotten maybe like two texts from former co-workers. I'm mostly asleep during the daytime and don't drive, so going out is hard. The person I consider my BFF is out of state and is busy with their own life. The only people I talk to most days are my Mom and Dad. (Admittedly, I am also pretty terrible about calling or texting people!) Tumblr has thus been the majority of my social interaction, for good or ill.
On top of all that, my birthday is this Friday and I always find myself depressed anyway this time of year. Like, it's probably half Seasonal Affective Disorder, and half a reminder that I'm a year older and having mixed feelings about where I am in life, IDK... But the current situation of *gestures vaguely at everything* isn't helping. So I am very blergh in general.
My parents and I had made vague plans a couple weeks ago that we could all go out for dinner on my actual birthday; nothing fancy, maybe the nearest sit-down Mexican restaurant. I was kinda looking forward to it. Mom just informed me that she is now unavailable after 5pm on my b-day itself since she offered to babysit kids for someone in their church that evening and night. We can't do it tomorrow night either, because Mom & Dad will be at a craft show from 4pm to 10pm.
And... it's fine, I guess. I'm disappointed but I'm an adult. I'm not gonna throw a tantrum or yell and cry or try to guilt her about it. She brought me flowers from the grocery store as a sort of peace offering and says we can still have cake or whatever. We'll probably do something on Saturday instead.
But EVERY YEAR, it's something. Last year, it was the cheesecake I asked for as a birthday cake getting dropped on the way into the house from the car; over half of it was smushed and then Dad stole the best remaining slice for himself. The two years before that, it was during the worst of the pandemic so I just had mediocre delivery food. I literally cannot remember the last birthday I really enjoyed in over a decade and half.
Another big source of anxiety right now -- we found out have 60 days to move since the leasing company is selling this house. So we have to find a new place, be packed and then move by January. Meanwhile home inspectors, realty agents and potential buyers are walking through while we're still living here, and it's super stressful. Words can't express how much I hate strangers being here any and all days of the week.
I guess I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself. I'm not trying to be whiny or woe-is-me, but my mental health right now is uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... Not Great (tm) 😅. I do try hard to be positive but it just takes so much energy and I'm stressed and a little numb.
Not really sure how to end this. I just really needed to put it all in writing as a journal-type situation so that I don't end up crying in real life LOL.
Current Mood: burnt-out 😑
Current Music: HGTV playing in the background
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Home buyers need 80% more income to buy than 4 years ago
https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/news/2922240/inflation-woes-home-buyers-need-80-more-income-to-buy-than-4-years-ago/
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New Post has been published on https://www.vividracing.com/blog/139824-2/
In 2022, car enthusiasts all over the United States were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Nissan Z. In the new Z, not 400Z, it seems Nissan answered all of our prayers. Equipped with a 3.0L VR30DDTT Twin Turbo V6 and a 6 speed FS6R31 manual transmission, the new Z34 (Kouki Z34) seemed to fill all the gaps Nissan left in the Zenki Z34 and R35 that left true drivers wanting more. With a power output at an even 400hp (298kw; 406ps) and 350 ftlbs (475 N-m 48 kg-m) of torque, the new Z34 was unlike any of its predecessors and a breath of fresh air in the middle of the ‘Sports Car Electrification Movement’. Nissan then broke some hearts, mine included, when they announced the 420hp, 384ftlb Z34 Nismo would be equipped with a rebadged Mercedes 9G-Tronic automatic transmission manufactured under Jatco as the JR913E and that there would be no manual option for the Nismo Z. Their reasoning: Even with more power, the automatic sport model would be faster in the ¼ mile than a manual Nismo, and they feared consumers would care.
Fast forward to release day, and the reasonably priced Nissan Z saw dealer markups of over $70,000 over MSRP on what could be Nissan’s final true sports car. Somehow, clout and fear of missing out beat common sense and they sold like hotcakes. So much so, that as of the writing of this article, the least expensive USED Nissan Z on the market is being offered at $7,000 above NEW MSRP. Now to bring it all into perspective, if you were an early buyer of a Nissan Z, you’re punching in Audi RS5 Coupe, BMW M4 Competition xDrive, and C8 Corvette territory price-wise, except you likely have cloth seats, less power, and are a good deal slower from 0-60 than your newly priced out competition… and the EFI scientist here at Vivid Racing just can’t let you go out like that.
Interested in this Nissan Z Tuning Box? Order Here
While we have options for your interior woes, and styling upgrades that make the car look the part of the markup, we were focused on two things and two things only: horsepower and torque… and drivability (I’m aware that’s three things). When this Two-tone Ikazuchi Yellow Tricoat / Super Black Kouki Z34 rolled into our dyno lab, we were impressed. It put down an underrated 405hp and 475ftlbs of torque through the automatic transmission, which was more than we all expected. Immediately wanting to unlock the ECU and start our flash process, the customer let us know the factory warranty was very important to him and that he would like to keep it. Luckily here at VR Tuned, we have developed a Warranty-safe tune with our VR Tuned Tuning Box. Basically, this system acts as a piggy back. It requires no cutting or splicing and does not modify the way any of the factory sensors work. Instead, through science and electrical engineering and magic, it provides safe, modified data to the factory ECU, allowing us modify boost, fuel and spark strategies that ultimately results in a 65hp increase over stock and 85 more ftlbs or torque through our VR Forged wheels.
To make it more user-friendly for the driver, we included optional Bluetooth control for both iOS and Android platforms, allowing the user to quickly change between 7 performance maps, or simply turn the tuning box off for emissions purposes from their phone. With 3 active drive modes (Race, Sport, and Eco) included, and German tuning box construction, we feel Vivid Racing has crafted the ultimate tuning solution for Nissan Z owners looking to retain their factory warranty. We also found the best exhaust system for making big power, and the best suspension system to keep it all under control, so there’s no need to take it one step at a time. The next stop for us and the Z should be a track day, so subscribe if you want to see more.
So whether you want to be the talk of the town at the next local cars and coffee, or you want to take a few hot laps around the track in extreme comfort, shoot me an email at [email protected] to get your Z right.
Product Featured: VR Tuned ECU Tuning Box Kit V2 Nissan Z | 400Z
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hasan minhaj has always been the typical highly privileged “charismatic” south asian man who play-acts persecution. i said it when he popped onto the scene and i will continue to say it until guys i know irl stop making money off of stories that are palatable to White Book Buyers and White Cable News about the persecution of muslim men with woe is me islam means peace, let there be no critical eye towards the immense, unchecked privilege i hold and the way i maintain and reinforce truly brutal systems of oppression towards south asian women and non cis-het people. when i meet more south asian cis-het men who are willing to truly address the role they play in reinforcing harmful systems for south asian women i will give hasan some grace but right now he is their lord and savior and role model so i don’t fucking give a shit lol
edit: also do not get me started on how a lot of the ickyness also comes from the fact that a lot of rich muslim men from the subcontinent dabble in persecution narratives without addressing the stark difference in oppression exacted on arab, persian, former FATA pakistani, afghani, and east african muslims
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omg no i hope you won’t have to do any refunds!! i think it quite matched what i was expecting? i’m no expert on shipping, but yeah, seemed accurate… just you know, the woes of living not-in-the-US 😭
Ahahah it's ok!
I'm fairly new to Etsy so hopefully I'll figure out a more streamlined way of doing things soon, but I use their calculated shipping because it tells the buyer exactly what X item in X category costs to ship. It will also tell you what Y item in Y category costs to ship. This is very handy for shipping to many countries with many different costs and rules.
But then since you're using the price Etsy tells you it costs...it just adds those two categories' shipping prices together. I'm sure this is why Etsy encouraged everyone to "just do free shipping!" to get it off their hands ahaha. I could set my own shipping prices and then be able to set a shipping discount for additional items--but I am not well versed enough in navigating international shipping to say I could do so without many headaches.
So yeah, every now and then Etsy generates two labels for an order because of whatever categories someone purchased from, so I am happy to refund the difference!
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Homebuyers have lost their short-lived edge as spring buying conditions worsen
Homebuyers have lost their short-lived edge as spring buying conditions worsen
While it may seem like a seller’s market, a growing share of homeowners are deciding against listing their house for sale — adding to inventory woes for buyers.
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#allen#buyer agent#dallas#DFW real estate#Ebby Halliday#ebby plano#first time homebuyer#frisco#home buying#home sales#homes for sale#house hunting#housing market#mckinney#north texas homes#plano#real estate#real estate agent#real estate news#realtor#richardson#seller agent#selling your home#texas homes
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Season 2 episode 17 Recap/Review
Because of some excitement with The Boys, my review won’t be posted to WFB for a bit, so I’m going to share it here for now and post a link to the site when it goes up. Normally, it would have been up by now and I don’t expect this to happen again but I’m impatient so here we are.
I think it’s safe to say I feel a little “Torn” over this episode.
This episode was full of triangles, some that I didn’t fully expect. I did like most of the episode and I though all the relationships displayed were handled pretty well, though there were some moments that tugged at my heartstrings in the wrong way. I’m going to be tackling each of these plots one at a time, starting with the biggest one: Cordell and Twyla.
The episode begins with Cordell getting ready for a day out with Twyla, helping her find a new apartment to live in. Liam notices that he’s dressed up for the occasion and expresses his concern over his brother’s newfound love interest. The last time Cordell was involved with Twyla, he was in a dark place emotionally and he was literally a different person. Liam also seems concerned about Geri’s feelings in all this, which Cordell brushes off, saying that Geri has made it very clear to him that she’s not interested in their romantic relationship. He insists that what he has with Twyla is casual and therefore nothing to worry about. Liam says that he’s not the “casual” kind of guy but Cordell continues to brush him off. He then finds the picnic basket that Liam was looking for and heads out on his way.
Side note: Did anyone else have a moment of clarity when Liam said he and Bret got engaged after six months? They didn’t even get through the honeymoon stage....
While on the road, Twyla thanks Cordell for doing this for her and asks if he ever gave serious thought to running away with her. He stumbles around the answer to the question, eventually admitting he thought of it as a passing fancy and nothing more. Before the conversation can carry on further, Denise calls Cordell to interrupt his morning off for a case. She’s not pleased to know that he’s with Twyla but it works out because she needs to be there too.
At Ranger HQ, they are informed of a new mission. There’s a horse auction in Austin and there’s reason to believe that someone is using it to launder money. They need Twyla to look through the financial records to spot who the suspicious buyer and their inside man is, with Cordell and Cassie there as backup and additional eyes. During this meeting, Cordell is a bit aggressive toward Denise and is very protective over Twyla, despite her insistence that she’s fine.
The case itself is simple and over relatively quickly. Twyla gets into the computer with little issue and quickly finds a few notable suspects before settling on the most likely candidate. Cordell is momentarily distracted by a rider slipping off his horse but he recovers quickly with Twyla’s voice in his ear. When she realizes they’ve been found out, she tries to leave only to be stopped by the suspect. He tries to intimidate her but Cordell steps in and calls in backup. The resulting fight is quick, though nearly deadly, and ends with Twyla and Cordell tossing the suspect through a glass door.
With the case out of the way, they go back to Twyla’s motel room for some alone time. After a very passionate roll in the hay, we see them talking about some of Cordell’s woes, specifically the race. Though Cordell doesn’t seem keen on discussing it, Twyla insists that something strange happened during the race if he lost to Dan Miller. Cordell eventually steers the conversation toward their relationship and the happy times quickly return to their place under the covers.
The next day, Cordell shows up at Twyla’s room with a bouquet of roses. She’s surprised and asks what the occasion is. He says it’s in honor of their “Day 0” because he wants to pursue something serious with her. She seems unsure but agrees.
Following this, we see Cordell looking for August at the Side Step and he asks Geri if she’s seen him. She tells Cordell he’s washing dishes and quickly changes the subject to his newfound romance with Twyla. She insists that she isn’t jealous but that he should really think about how their relationship will affect the other people in his life, like her or the kids. Twyla was a part of a dark time in his life and had a role to play in some painful times for his family and pursuing a relationship with her can only cause trouble. She’s just worried about the kids, you know. She’s totally not jealous at all and regretting her decision to cut off the Walkers and make friendly with the Davidsons. She’s just concerned for the kids.
After this, we see Cordell and August having dinner together. Twyla comes up at the end and Cordell formally introduces her to August. Everyone except Cordell seems uncomfortable. Twyla starts by apologizing for the role she had to play in the hurt the Walkers have been through in the past few years. August was probably the best person to start this with as he was the one that found the picture of Cordell and Twyla together and was most affected by it. August accepts her apology, though he doesn’t seem too happy to see her. Cordell tells August that Twyla plans on sticking around for a while and an uncomfortable silence settles over the table. August then expresses his relief that that was all they had to say on the matter as he was worried this whole introduction was about Cordell and Twyla dating. After all, things are finally starting to settle and be Okay for them and bringing her in might cause some discord. When Cordell steps in to say that they were actually planning on dating, Twyla interrupts and says that they agreed that it would be a bad idea to go down that road together.
The next day, Cordell tries to talk to Twyla again but she’s left her motel room completely empty. Come to find out, she requested a transfer to another county without telling him. While she does care for him, she knows that their relationship just wouldn’t work. He isn’t the Duke she knew and them being together would cause too much trouble for him. While saddened by this revelation, Cordell has to admit that she’s right and they say a final goodbye before she leaves with her new bosses.
Later, Cordell and Liam discuss the new developments in their love lives. Things are going well for Liam but Cordell is having to come to terms with the kind of man he is and how that’s going to affect his dating life. He's a family man through and through and, as much as he loved Twyla, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that could potentially separate himself from his family again. He also says that the only reason things worked so well with Twyla is that he was literally being a different person with her, someone who lacked obligations and responsibility and could go run off into the sunset at the drop of a hat. Liam, while glad that Cordell has finally admitted to being a “serial monogamist” (whatever that means), makes the promise that if Cordell ever does find himself in a situation where following his heart does lead him away from them, he will fully support that move.
Side note: Ben is objectively wrong. Picnics are great and Liam was very sweet in planning one for them. The “ramen dinner in” was a huge downgrade. You’d think a wine specialist would have better taste....
The next big relationship debacle handled in this episode comes is with Stella, Todd, and Colton. We start off with Stella and August arriving at school. Stella waves at Todd through the fence while she strokes her mother’s necklace with a dreamy smile on her face. August immediately spots what’s going on and tells Stella that she needs to tell Todd the truth about her feelings. She brushes him off initially but, after some pushing, she claims it’s not an easy conversation to have. August is not sympathetic to her plight and tells her to get on with it, just in time for Todd to arrive. She starts to tell him that they need to have a serious talk later but he interrupts her with the news that he got into the same school she did, meaning they won’t have to take their relationship long distance. Though caught off guard, Stella puts on a smiling face and insists that they celebrate the good news.
Later, Stella chases after Colton in the hall and stops him from going to class to talk to him. She wants to know if he was serious about his feelings for her. He says that he’s very serious and admits that he’s felt this way about her since their first meeting in the parking lot. He also says that being mean to “the girl [he] had a crush on” probably wasn’t the best move. Since the parking lot fight was the first time they met, I’m going to assume the crush came about during Gale’s apparent cyberstalking and trash-talking of the Walker family prior to the Davidsons returning to Austin. In the background, we can see Todd watching their talk with a concerned expression on his face.
Later, the senior class is gathered in the gym for some fun and games for Senior Week. Todd watches Colton and Stella make heart eyes at each other before he “accidentally” throws a basketball at Colton’s head. After Colton tells him to watch it, he throws the ball right into his back, starting a fight. A crowd quickly gathers and Stella works her way to the front of it, telling both boys to stop to no avail. When Trey steps in to pull them apart, Todd ends up elbowing him in the face, bringing everything to a stop. Trey tells both of them to leave the gym and tells everyone else to get back to what they were doing.
In a separate classroom, Trey sternly tells both of them to tell him what the hell they were doing out there. Both boys are silent and he tries to pull the truth out of them by telling them that if they stay quiet, they’ll both get standard suspension. Todd speaks up then and takes responsibility for starting the fight. Trey tries to get them to say why and the boys are quiet. He correctly deduces that it can all be tied back to Stella and gets both of them to shake hands and calls it a day. He holds Todd back to lightly reprimand him for fighting. He says that if Stella wants to end their relationship, it’s her choice. He also references his breakup with Micki and says that both people have to want the relationship for it to work.
While I do agree with the message Trey was trying to impart about respecting other peoples’ wishes in a relationship, I felt like he was telling Todd it was wrong for him to be upset about the situation, which didn’t seem fair. Stella was lying to him and playing with his feelings while she waffled with her own. He’s right to be upset about how Stella handled things. What he did wrong was attacking Colton, who was an innocent party in all this.
The next day, Stella and Todd sit next to each other during a slideshow presentation for the Senior Superlatives. Stella tries to apologize for what happened previously but Todd brushes her off. When a picture of them pops up as “Cutest Couple”, Todd seems pleased but Stella becomes upset and rushes out of the gym. Later, Todd catches up with her and asks her what happened, though he already knows. Stella finally breaks up with him and tries to explain herself, but Todd stops her. He respects her decision to end things and tells her he’ll see her at college in the fall.
Stella approaches Colton after and tells him that she officially broke things off with Todd and they can be a couple now. After all, things are “peaceful” with their families for now; what better time to get together? Neither of them is under any delusions that the peace will last but they aren’t going to let that stop them from making this work. The scene ends with a happy kiss.
The final big relationship that this episode tackled was between Geri and Denise. In the last episode, it was briefly mentioned that Denise was being a bit frosty toward Geri and now we got to see it full force.
It starts with Geri calling Denise to confirm dinner plans while she’s in the middle for a case. Denise is polite but distracted by the arrival of Cordell and Twyla and eventually uses the case as an excuse to cancel their dinner plans. Geri tries to be understanding of this but she’s clearly bothered by how Denise is putting her off.
The next day, she goes to the DA’s office to talk face to face about their relationship. She starts with an almost rehearsed-sounding line about how, in all this deception, they were both robbed of a sister but now they have a chance to make things right. Without being able to hide behind her work, or a phone, Denise finally tells Geri that part of the problem she’s having with their relationship is knowing that Geri’s adoptive father was Marv Davidson’s murderer. Geri responds with how difficult it has been for her to handle Marv giving her up at such a young age and going to great lengths to keep her away from her family. She says that both of those men hurt them in undeniable ways but that they owe it to themselves, and each other, to move past that as their fathers’ actions do not define them. Odd that this rule didn’t apply to the Walkers but I digress. Denise finally suggests that they go out for drinks, much to Geri’s delight.
We see them at the Side Step later in the episode. Denise is recounting a Bad Neighbor story and they’re both laughing. Once they calm down, Denise admits that it’s nice to have someone that she can talk about things with now, since her mother is hardly the best listener. Geri is happy to hear this and promises to be that person for Denise. Looking up, she eyes “Denise The Deer” the boar head that has proudly hung in the Side Step for years, and announces that she’s finally going to take that thing down. Denise initially protests as it was a gift from Emily Walker, to which Geri responds that Emily would’ve wanted her to feel welcome there. She asks her bartender to put the head in storage as a sign of goodwill between them.
Side note: Did anyone else feel like Geri was putting words in Emily’s dead mouth?
Before we move on to the big plot point of the episode, I am pleased to announce that Trey Barnett has finally been deemed worthy of a plot!
We start with Trey and Cassie having an aggression session at the ranger gym. Cassie is talking about how well her relationship with Ben is healing and mentions going to see Lucas’ grave. Trye hopes that they plan to do lighter stuff and Cassie tells him about a book signing trip they’re planning, featuring the great Hawk Shadow himself. Trey doesn’t know who the hell she’s talking about but he’s saved from her explanations by the appearance of Larry James.
James is happy with how the counseling sessions are going but he tells Trey there’s a problem with the DPS: they want him to work there full time. This would be a major conflict with his schedule at the school and Trey doesn’t feel ready to leave the kids yet. James assures him that he doesn’t have to make a decision right away but they will need an answer soon.
Toward the end of the episode, Trey comes to James with some big news. He’s going to finish out the school year with the kids but after that, he’ll be coming to work with the rangers full time. James is happy to hear this and promises to get everything cleared with the DPS. After Trey leaves, James pulls a badge out of his drawer and picks up his phone. He dials a number and tells the person on the other end that he has an excellent candidate for the empty ranger position.
Now, to round off our recap, there’s an interesting note during Liam and Cordell’s conversation at the end of the episode.
Cordell brings up something that Twyla said to him during their brief honeymoon phase. Twyla thought it was strange that Cordell would lose to someone like Dan Miller. While Cordell doesn’t discount Dan’s skill on the horse, he can’t stop thinking about what happened to his saddle. He tells Liam about the rider he saw earlier at the auction, who feel off his horse because the saddle he was using wasn’t properly secured. Bringing it back to the race, he says it’s damn near impossible that his father, who’s been working with leather and saddles for decades, would make a saddle that just broke during the most important race of their lives. Liam quickly picks up on where this is going and voices it: there’s a very good chance that the Davidsons cheated and did something to the saddle in order to secure a win. While this is something that many of us have been speculating for a while, I’m glad to see the Walker brothers catching up.
And that brings us to the end of the episode. Stella and Colton are determined to make a go of things as are Denise and Geri. Meanwhile, Cordell has had his heart stomped on once again and he’s coping with the pain by focusing on something else, namely the fishy results of the race. Cassie wasn’t as present in this episode but the upcoming episode descriptions imply that that’s going to be changing for the final three episodes. Where all this is going, only time will tell. Personally, I think it’s going to end with the Walkers back on their rightful land and the Davidsons being run out of town after Gale finally confesses to killing Marv but we’ll just have to wait and see.
What did you guys think of the episode? Were you satisfied with the end of Twydell or just happy that it had nothing to do with Geri? How long are Colton and Stella going to last with the rising tensions between the families? And which mysterious Davidson meddled with Cordell’s saddle? Let me know what y’all think!
#walker#walker spoilers#walker review#s02e17#torn#cordell walker#liam walker#stella walker#august walker#geri broussard#twyla jean#denise davidson#colton davidson#todd#larry james#trey barnett
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