(via Golden Meadow | John Hartley | Flickr)

So I realized that I misunderstood Albert and Gordon’s conversation at the end of part 4. originally i thought Albert was saying that he gave Jeffries (or someone pretending to be Jeffries) classified information in order to help cooper, which is true, but that doesn’t get at the full implication of what Albert says. 

Albert: “Well, since you asked—and I can’t tell you how sorry I am about this–I authorized Phil to give Cooper some information.”

Albert says he authorized Phillip to give Cooper classified information, which means implies that Albert is on a higher security clearance than either Jeffries or Cooper. We still don’t know when this event happened (after talking it through I think it likely happened after Cooper disappeared, which might explain the difference in security clearance), but… the question of how long Albert has had higher security access than Cooper or Jeffries is… POTENTIALLY A REALLY BIG ROSEN-DEAL, because it begs the question,

… and when did he know it?

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We were watching Part 4 with @snowonsnow and I just realized that the ending song, that arrives just after the conversation between Albert and Gordon, with the whole “Yeah I did something a long time ago to protect Cooper”, is whoooooh really fitting ? And my gay heart can’t even.

So long
So long ago
There wasn’t anyone out there I thought I needed to know
But no more
When I find the day leave my mind in the evening just as the day before


I saw that something was broken
I’ve crossed the line
I’ll point you to a better time
A safer place to be
Sometimes I want to be enough for you
Don’t ask
Know that it’s done no good

If you're not scared (then why am I) - TPTR

What if Albert and Gordon find the real Coop? Short tag for episode 4, can be seen as a continuation of that episode or as an AU for some of the events in them. A fiercely hopeful bit of wishful thinking to soothe my battered heart…

Spoilers for Twin Peaks The Return, up to episode 4.

Also up on AO3!

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It was the end of my sophomore year in college, and my friends were piled into my mini van as we drove to Rosendale to volunteer to stand at a table on the side of the rail trail and hand out little cups of water to marathon runners. I had no idea where I was, I was desperate to go exploring, and I had a crushed gravel, wheelchair accessible trail that I had never been on stretching out on either side of me for miles and miles. This combination of circumstances was intoxicating. I felt guilty about abandoning my service project crew, but honestly, me trying to hand a marathon runner a cup of water with my weak, spindly hand would only end in spilled water everywhere. I needed to wander. So, I picked a direction and I just kept going. The air was chilly, but my excitement and the jiggling vibrations from my wheelchair on the trail warmed my body up and made my nose run. I kept moving forward quickly because I wanted to explore the maximum distance of trail that I possibly could, without being gone so long that people had to worry about me. Right when I thought I was pushing my luck and I should probably turn around, I saw this long, rickety looking, beautiful bridge up ahead of me. It was the Rosendale Tressel, and before that moment, I had no idea it existed. I crossed the bridge multiple times, looking down at the Walkill Valley far below me, and.the people’s little backyards with gardens and lawn furniture. I hope everyone gets these moments in life. Where you discover a hidden treasure on your own, and you’re stunned by how beautiful and exciting life can be. When its perfectly ok that when you get back to your group of college students huddled around a fold up table covered in small paper cups, nobody really cares that you found a bridge. And no, they don’t want to walk to the bridge after the service project is over, even though it’s a super long, high up, impressive bridge. That’s ok, because a smile will keep creeping up on your face every time you think about this little secret you share with the universe.


 Week of May 18, 2017:

  • Susan Mills, Ruderal Plants in Manhattan (Rosendale, NY: Women’s Studio Workshop, 1995)
  • Tres Cartas de Sergei Esenin (Mantanzas, Cuba: Ediciones Vigia, 1995)
  • Mikel Hori, A Nook of Bon sense (London: Little Big Books, 1990)
  • Jean-Michel Alberola, La Peinture, L’Histoire et La Geographie (Paris, France: Editions du Centre Georges Pompidou, 1985)
  • Song Dong, Doing Nothing (Ostfildern, Germany: Hatje Cantz Verlag, 2012)

imagine telling shy little phil from rosendale that not only would he someday be massively successful with two major publications and two films, a stage show, a worldwide audience, and countless of awards, but would also have a companion that constantly cheers him on and is essentially his biggest fan

To the anon who requested Rosendale h/c fic with Coop on the receiving end: any specific trope or setting you had in mind?

It’s just that the genre is so broad (and I’ve written so much of it already… not that I ever get enough of it, mind you! ;) ) so it would be really useful to know if you’re looking for a specific type of story that hasn’t been done yet, or some variation on a common theme, or…? Are we talking plain fluffy sickfic here, similar to this one but with the roles reversed? Something else? Please don’t hesitate to be specific about what you’d like!

Today, I got to visit my favorite cool abandoned stone ruins by Spring Farm trailhead that I first found the day before Halloween. Everything on the trails here are so vibrantly green and foresty. We also visited the Rosendale tressel bridge, and felt the cold, icy air blowing out of the caves. Now, my grandma and aunt are driving up to New Paltz to be at my graduation tomorrow. I don’t know for sure what comes next in my life, but I know it will be a difficult and sweet adventure, and I’m excited for it, and I know how lucky I am to be me.


Taken from a link titled “The Dizzying Heights Of 21st Century Agriculture”.

(Should be called horror and torture on a massive scale)

Our industrialized food system nourishes more people, at lower cost, than any comparable system in history. It also exerts a terrifyingly massive influence on our health and our environment. Photographer George Steinmetz spent nearly a year traveling the country to capture that system, in all its scope, grandeur and dizzying scale. His photographs are all the more remarkable for the fact that so few large food producers are willing to open themselves to this sort of public view.

Photo 1; Newborn females arrive from local dairies and spend their first 180 days at Calf Source — first in one of 4,896 hutches, like the ones seen here, and then in larger group pens. Trucks pass down each of 72 rows, dispensing water and milk. After a transfer to Heifer Source, another facility owned by the Milk Source company, the cows are inseminated and then returned — seven months pregnant, and just under 2 years old — to the dairies they came from.

Photo 2; During its busiest season, Gary’s Gobblers might have up to 60,000 turkeys living on five acres of its 160-acre facility. The worker seen here is spraying an antibacterial solution into the turkey pens to prevent disease.

Photo 3; By World War II, the J.R. Simplot Company had become the nation’s largest shipper of fresh potatoes; by 2005, it was said to be the source of more than half of all McDonald’s French fries. This 750-acre feedlot resulted from a realization by its billionaire owner, John Richard Simplot, that he could also use the waste products of his potato operation to fatten cattle.

Photo 4;The two rotating carousels of this milking parlor operate 22 hours a day, milking 7,900 cows three times each. Rosendale Dairy, like Calf Source and Heifer Source, is owned by Milk Source. 

Photo 5; Fair Oaks Farms is both a working farm and an educational tourist attraction, with a Pig Adventure area showing visitors the seven-month cycle, from birth to sale, of a pig. Here, sows are penned on their sides when nursing, while piglets spend the majority of each day feeding and growing rapidly.

N.B. Photo 5 an “educational tourist attraction?”

Photo 2 antibacterial spraying?

This is an atrocity and is adversely affecting humans, not to mention the planet.

The One He Won't Forget

Summary: Dan Howell is a serial killer who picks up hitchhikers and murders them, but this hitchhiker has the same intention as him….

A/n: this is based off a text post which I can’t find for the life of me, but you’ll know if you find it. I liked writing this. I guess after seeing suicide squad it interesting to play around with concept of insanity. Let me know if you liked this one, I kind of want to do one loosely based off the joker and Harley Quinn :)

Warnings: murder, mental illness, also the two main characters are psychopaths so Y'know

The rain tapped on the window of Dan’s new car, soft and gently. Two words that are alien to Dan. He drove steadily keeping a keen eye by the side of the road, checking for anyone who may need a ride. He always liked this part of the procedure, it gave him time to reflect. He’d had a good run that evening, two lone uni boys and a couple. He preferred killing men. It meant he could ‘have a little fun’ before sticking a bullet in their skull. It was odd, as Dan never felt guilt when he took people lives. Perhaps that stemmed from his childhood.

Dan’s parents didn’t agree with him not being straight, but the fact he didn’t even identify with a label only infuriated his parents more. The neglect and hate his parents gave him made Dan a very lonely person. And subsequently made him psychotic. An extreme case, but Dan wasn’t exactly sane, even when his parents loved him.

The brown haired psychopath was soon brought out of his own thoughts when a dark figure waving their thumb stepped out into the road. It was about 1 am and Dan was getting tired. This would be Dan’s last victim of the night. As he got close to figure, he saw a a mess of black hair and piercing blue eyes. The man had a child like smile plastered on his face. Oh, this was too easy for Dan, it’s not like the guy would put up much of a fight.
Dan opened his car door and a very wet man fell into the front seat. Clumsy too.
‘Thank you so much, I was worried I would be sleeping by the side of the road! Oh, my names Phil by the way, Phil Lester’. He held out his hand cheerfully for Dan to shake. Surprised by his attitude, Dan shook Phil’s hand. ‘I’m Daniel, where can I take you to’. Dan never introduced himself as Dan, always Daniel, professional Daniel. He hated strangers calling him Dan. 'Waterloo station if you don’t mind, I know trains aren’t running at this time but there are hotels near by. Also can I call you Dan?’ Well, looks like Dan would have to like his nickname tonight.

The men drove in silence, until Phil broke it. He was fidgety and he kept rummaging through his rucksack. Dan found it irritating, but couldn’t stay mad at the boy. He was interesting and quirky. Too bad he’ll be dead in the next hour. 'Where you from Phil?’. Dan never asked personal questions about his victims, but he felt like he wanted to know this guy more. 'Originally from Rosendale up north, but I’ve just moved to London, what about you?’. Dan was surprised, people never asked about his personal life, they were always too busy going on about where they were heading. 'Wokingham’, his reply short and sweet. He hoped Phil would continue the conversation as he loved hearing him talk. He almost forgot that he was mean to be killing the guy.

They talked for a while before Dan decided enough was enough. As much as he liked the guy (maybe even loved) it was getting late and his gun had gone too long without releasing a bullet. He took a wrong turn which lead down a dark, narrow road. It was time.

'We’re here’. Dan’s tone was flat. He expected Phil to be scared and to immediately question Dan, but he didn’t. Phil got out the car with his bag. Dan was concerned, and stepped out the car to follow Phil, keeping his gun in his jacket pocket. Phil was bent over, again checking through his bag when Dan spoke. 'What? Aren’t you worried? This obviously isn’t Waterloo station!’. Dan was usually a lot more professional than this, but he was just so astounded by Phil’s behaviour.

Dan’s knees went weak and he suddenly felt fear. He had never encountered this. Phil’s expression had changed. His eyes were cold and he had a gun pointed in Dan’s direction. 'Oh no Daniel, I’m not worried, this location is perfect.’ A smirk grew on his face, but quickly vanished as Dan pulled out a pistol from his jacket. 'Looks like we both have the same intention’. 'So who pulls the trigger first, you or me?’ The men stood at gunpoint for a few more moments before Phil spoke up. 'My gun has to shoot something each night for me to stay happy Daniel, and I don’t plan on being shot’. Dan had read the situation oh so wrong. Phil was psychotic, just like him. He felt fear, but also love for the man. He liked this new feeling of being dominated. Dan dropped his gun and put his hands in the air. 'Do your worst’. As Dan said those words, he shut his eyes preparing for the pain.


Dan opened his eyes to see Phil with his gun pointed in the air. Dan was speechless. Did this man like him too much to kill him? Phil walked over to Dan before grabbing his chin harshly. 'I need a place to stay, and I assume you live near here. So I’m staying over or the next bullet that leaves my gun will find its way into your skull, understand?’. Yup, Dan was hard. But he wasn’t going to let his guard down. 'Sure, then what? Who’s to say I don’t kill you at my house?’ Dan felt quite proud with his response, but Phil immediately shot him down. 'Oh Dan, you love me too much to kill me, and don’t act like you don’t’. Phil knew how to degrade someone in 2 seconds flat. How did he know, was it that obvious? His mind went blank as Phil kissed him, immediately followed by a slap and laughter. But not the giggly laughter Dan once heard earlier that night. No, this was a menacing laugh. Dan liked this. He loved someone loving him. He loved being degraded. He loved Phil, even after knowing for all of an hour. Phil drove to the nearest hotel, Dan was too busy with….polishing Phil’s gun.

He did not know that this is how his evening would end.