roll thursday

Several people said they would have liked to see more coverage of a measure that Trump signed Thursday that rolled back a last-minute Obama regulation that would have restricted coal mines from dumping debris in nearby streams. At the signing, Trump was joined by coal miners in hard hats.
“If he hadn’t gotten into office, 70,000 miners would have been put out of work,” Patricia Nana, a 42-year-old naturalized citizen from Cameroon. “I saw the ceremony where he signed that bill, giving them their jobs back, and he had miners with their hard hats and everything — you could see how happy they were.”

The regulation actually would have cost relatively few mining jobs and would have created nearly as many new jobs on the regulatory side, according to a government report — an example of the frequent distance between Trump’s rhetoric, which many of his supporters wholeheartedly believe, and verifiable facts.
Melani, for example, gets most of her news from talk radio — “I listen to Herman Cain on my way into work, I have Sean [Hannity] on my way home,” she said — and Fox News.


Trump supporters see a successful president — and are frustrated with critics who don’t

Trump’s base lives in a fantasy world where they get all their news from talk radio and Fox News.

But, you know, we who live on the coasts and in large, diverse, cities are stuck in a bubble.


Endeavour text post edits, round 5 ?  ..: Now with tag ! :..

Dear Mercer

Dear mercer, hear our call
Let Scanlan live
After all

For he is good
For he is loved
For he brings more joy than anyone else could

So dear mercer, hear our call
Have the dice roll well
Or the fandom shall bawl

Rolling Stone (A Short Story)

He stares lovingly at the baggies before him. He then smiles gratefully at the dealer and sends him his way. He sucks in his bottom lip, guilt settling down at the pit of his stomach; he had promised Bella that he would ease up on the coke. 

He lied. 

Inhaling deeply, he spills the white content onto the clean glass table. Grabbing his credit card from his wallet, he begins making lines, the pleasurable feeling brings him a familiar rush. Just the sight of it is making him feel like a child on Christmas morning. He hums to a tone that has been stuck in his head for a while now as he peacefully makes his lines. Then he suddenly pauses, a faint memory of an old friend haunting him. 

“Come here,” He ordered her. A scowl already forming on his face. She teases too much. Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head no. Fucking hell. “Why not?” 

“Because I don’t want to.” He groans loudly. It’s like she walks this earth just to taunt him. “I want you to come and get me.” She says, crossing her arms and covering her breasts. Shaking his head at her childish tactics, he rolls off the bed and reaches out to grab her, and when he does, he gently throws her back on the bed. As she naturally wraps her legs around his waist, he dips down to her ears and whispers, “gotcha.” 

“You know Tess, I’m starting to think you’re falling in love with me.” She speaks as she plays with his baby dreads. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, baby girl.” He lays down besides her on the small twin bed that he stole from his mother’s house. I hope she’s okay, he says to himself, thinking about his mom. “I’m just waiting for my big break. I’m going to make it.” He says with confidence. At this point, he has a promising future, he only needs to get signed. 

“Will you still remember me?” She questions in a small voice, as if she fears the answer. 

“Of course, I could never forget you. You loved me before they all loved me.” 

He swallows the lump in his throat at the flashback. After a week of having that conversation with her, he got signed to Republic Records. In pure agony, he flips over the glass table that shatters into pieces on the marble floor, letting two thousands worth of cocaine go to waste. 

“Leave me alone!” He screams at no one in particular, though he’s speaking to her. He does that sometimes when he’s alone, feeling her powerful presence even though she isn’t there. “Please, Valerie! Let me live in peace.” 

Luckily for him, no one is around to witness his melt down. 

He slides down to the floor once he’s against the wall, letting his head fall in between his knees. He couldn’t stop the rouge tears that escape. Abel doesn’t know how it happened or what happened. He got a call from Valerie’s mother saying she passed away and that was it. He knew she had been sick, but he didn’t think of it as anything more than a cold, that’s what she told him. She would tell him it was a cold and nothing to worry about. Her mother said it’s like the further away he got from Toronto, the sicker she got. 

She passed away when he was in Japan. 

He was angry with her for the longest time, he hated her for not telling him what’s going on. But as he grew older, wiser, he understood she kept it a secret out of love. She knew he was having the time of his life and didn’t want to ruin that.

She had to set him free. 

He just wishes that he had gotten a chance to say goodbye. After two years of being together, she got used to his face and his mystery was beginning to fade, so the last conversation they had wasn’t much of a conversation.

Abel roughly wipes away the tears, mentally scolding himself for breaking down like this. Grabbing his jacket, he leaves his penthouse. After what felt like wandering around for hours, he found himself in Parkdale, standing in front of a familiar house with 65 engraved on it. He smiles to himself. Valerie would have never let this place go, she would have forced him to buy it. He makes a mental note to see if it’s up for sale once he gets home. 

He so badly wanted to break in, but he knew better. 

“You’re so mean to me, Tess.” She says, he can picture her cute little pout. 

“Yeah, but you still love me.” He grins, but his wide smile falters, “when will you stop loving me?” He asks, already dreading the answer. Abel knows it’s bound to happen, he knows this long distance bullshit won’t work. It never does. Eventually, Valerie would have fallen out of love with him. 

“When you don’t need me anymore. I loved you before they all loved you, so when I stop loving you, it’s because they all love you.” She explains. He tried to comprehend what she’s saying but it’s all jumbled up and makes no sense. “But until then, you got me.” 

He never understood what she went on about. He still doesn’t. He smiles at the memory of her confusing and stupid riddles. I should go see her, he says to himself. He doesn’t have to walk far to find her and when he does, he kneels down and gives her a kiss, then lays on his arm, as if facing her. He places his hand on where he images her tummy would be. She loved getting her tummy rubbed, he found it strange, but he didn’t mind doing it for her. 

“I miss you, Val.” He says. “I miss you so much.” His voice cracks. “You didn’t have to leave me. You said you would leave when I didn’t need you anymore. I still need you. Why did you leave me, baby girl?” He’s very much aware he’s speaking to a gravestone, but he hopes that she’s listening, wherever she is. “I wrote you a song. It’s about you. It’s called Valerie. It’s about how much I love you and need you. And how sorry I am for taking you for granted.” 

“Do you want me to sing it for you?” 

And he does. He sings it for her. At first his voice is loud and clear, but his voice starts cracking by the end of the first verse, and by the end of the song, his voice is barely audible. And after a moment, all that could be heard are his heart-breaking sobs throughout the cemetery. 

He never got to grieve over her death. He was filled with so much anger towards her that he didn’t cry it out. He thought she would come knocking on his door one day and tell him that this is one of her shenanigans. That she’s alive and healthy. He waited for her, he knew she had access to his home so he would get frustrated when she didn’t come. 

She never came. 

Abel was in denial about her death for a long time and now that he’s faced it and accepted it, he only hopes she found peace. 

Abel wakes up with a sense of content, not happiness, but content. He looks over his shoulders to see Bella, and he weakly smiles at her. She must have sneaked in when he was asleep. He pulls the sheets over her and tucks her in, placing a sloppy kiss on her forehead. He lazily rolls off the bed, grabbing his phone. He looks at the date and smiles sadly. 

August 18. 

It’s been four years since he last saw her. 

A knock stops his train of thought and he makes his way to the living room. 

“Morning sunshine.” Lamar grins at Abel, gently patting his face. “I missed you baby.” 

“What the fuck do you want?” He pushes smacks Lamar’s arm, turning away from him and settling on his comfy sofa. 

“I told you, I missed you.” Lamar leaves the main door open, as if he’s not planning on staying. “Oh, I see. Your little girlfriend is here so you want to be rude to your lover. That’s fine, honestly.” Abel gives Lamar an unimpressed look. “Fine,” he drags the end of the word out, “I came to give you this.” He pulls out a mail letter from his jacket and hands it to Abel. “I didn’t open it or anything. Val’s mom gave it to me at her funeral. I was gonna give to you then but I didn’t know if you could handle it.” Lamar is the only one who didn’t tip toe around the subject of Valerie, he was a straight forward person and didn’t approve of the way Abel dealt with her death. “Read it, okay man. It’ll give you closure.” He says to him patting him on the back and leaves, closing the door behind him. 

Abel wanted to punch Lamar for keeping this from him for so long, but he was right, Abel wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He stares at the letter in fear of what it might say. She wrote this four years ago. He could feel unshed tears burning his eyes. Not waiting a second longer, he tears the mail open. He’s more than disappointed to see there’s only one sentence written on the letter and he wonders if this is some cruel joke by Lamar. He then reminds himself that Lamar wouldn’t do this to him and he immediately reads what it says. And when he does, hot tears fall down from his eyes and he smiles a heart-wrenching smile. 

I’m still listening, the letter read. 


So let me tell you the story about the thing.

exorcisingemily actually gave me the idea for the op, which was good because chelseawren and I had been wracking our brains trying to come up with something fun. When she rolled into town Thursday night, we ran to Michael’s and spent a little while hot-gluing foam together (I burned myself twice, which was a sacrifice I was willing to make).

When we stepped forward for our op, the eyes went immediately to the swords, and I cleared my throat. “So, not sure if you’re keeping up on this, but you’re both neck-and-neck in the Zap2it poll right now,” I said.

Jensen blinked. “Did you know about this?” he asked Misha.

Misha nodded solemnly. “Yes. You asshole.”

They laughed.

“Anyway, things are starting to get ugly in the fandom – name-calling, hair-pulling, general nastiness – so we wondered if maybe you’d like to settle this in a more civilized manner, like gentlemen.”

You’d have thought we were giving them bars of gold with how fast they grabbed these swords. We went to our respective sides.

“Zap2it is about to get a shitload of free publicity,” Jensen joked.

“Do you work for Zap2it?” Misha asked me lightheartedly.

They posed, the camera snapped, and then…they looked at each other. An entire dialogue happened in a glance. “Do we? Should we?” Jensen asked Misha as his other hand went for his pocket.

He handed his phone to Chris, then turned to me and Chelsea. “Can we borrow you for a moment?”

“We aren’t exactly doing anything else today,” Chelsea said.

We struck poses again, Chelsea and I over the moon and trying not to show it. When Chris handed the phone back to Jensen, Jensen very seriously asks, “Can I tweet this?”

Um. When Jensen Ackles asks you this question, the answer is yes. We assured him very enthusiastically that yes, he could tweet it.

They laughed and gave us farewell hugs, and we made it all the way out to the hallway before we had to sit down to make sure our kneecaps did not escape because they were shaking so hard. Ten minutes later, Jensen tweets and I’ve been riding the ebbs and flows of euphoria ever since.

Star Wars Dark Disciple: ‘this novel will skew towards adult readers’.

[Two hundred pages of Asajj’s struggles with her haberdashery bill on a freelance Bounty Hunter budget]

Virgo & Pisces
  • Pisces, getting sleepy, sitting up the presentation board, yawns: Virgo, can't we just go to sleep?? It's 2 in the morning, and the project isn't due till Saturday
  • Virgo, writing down rough draft of they essay: No, we need to finish this tonight.
  • Pisces, falling asleep near Virgo's legs: But it's Thursday...
  • Virgo, rolls eyes: Do you think Prof. O cares if it's Thursday? It's 40% of our final grade and that's what makes me upset with you. You always procrastinate when it comes to your homework. I want me and you to remain roomies through sophomore year too, you know? Pisces?
  • Pisces, knocked out with ink all over their face:
  • Virgo, smiles & continues to work: You owe me a dinner for 2 weeks for this, okay?