the trail of time

anonymous asked:

Loooong time lurker both here and over at GF. FWIW, as someone who is intimately familiar with NPD- it's not SH who is one. It's an interesting dynamic, watching Gator go into so much detail about NPD, and then seeing her do all the things Narcissists do. My only hope is that Ben and his family aren't hurt by her or her group. Honestly in the world of extremism we live in right now, you'd think someone who claims to be smart would be more careful.

I agree with you, Nonny. Gator totally is the “narc” in this whole debacle. Honest to god, she really does remind me of Trump, who is a textbook malignant narcissist. Many times on the campaign trail, Trump said he was “the only one” who could fix things. Gator proclaims herself to be the only one who knows the truth. Trump says that everyone who contradicts him is lying. Gator says that everyone who contradicts her is lying. And that’s just skimming the surface. It makes it extra ironic that Gator has reblogged anti-Trump posts when she’s almost exactly like him.

The one good thing is that as time has gone on, Gator has lost influence. Basically no one except her tiny cadre of acolytes pays attention to her anymore. And even so, hearing that she got cranky anons from people after Wanda’s comments at Sherlocked USA makes me think that even her itty bitty little army may be fracturing even more. Pretty soon it’s just going to be her and Aeltri, and maybe Annashipper, just nattering away like the 3 witches in Macbeth, just with zero power and zero influence.

The last night he could remember the training, it could have been a Sunday, after eleven with no students out. The streetlights dominated around the dorms, but by the arboretum and the forest trails the stars were bright and twenty-seven minutes was the time to beat. Three and a half miles was two laps on the circular campus boulevard, and when he ran it he brought nothing with him and told no one where he was.

It was always a rush getting to the other side of the road and keeping the momentum on the grass. George, who would get matched with emergency medicine downtown, drilled it in his mind. “Concrete kills your joints. Stay on the grass and the trails.” It was six years ago and the trails did not exist yet, but George drove him on and they made it to the end, where the neighborhood was being built in the grassy clearing. “Made it,” he said with a bearded smile.

If you knew the trails well enough you could run them in the dark, but he aimed for speed, not an obstacle course. The occasional campus shuttle came by with a few students onboard, but the vehicle was easily avoidable and it felt good to get past the cars in the four-lane main entrance.

There were the few hold-outs coming out of the gym, but it was each to their own and they made way for a runner without another glance. His roommates had a running gag of taking the free car magnets the city soccer team gave out, but there was no giving into distractions.

At noon it was exciting to carry a pack on the trails and troop in the heat, but he was not looking to stay out there too long as he passed the forest again. He did not know yet about the view by the lake that Liz showed him later and he did not want to stop. It was the fastest he had gone before, there was no slowing to a jog, it was a steady run.

The shallow hole in the grass on the left past the main entrance threw him off, but he thought he’d shook it off. Then he tripped and almost ate shit at the intersection by the solar panels, and he rolled into the fall. He sat there in the grass, then stood up as though everything was usual.

It was not. He fell again on his knees and felt a searing, cold pain fingering from his toes up into his ankles and calves. Stupid, he thought. Forgot the interval training. It felt good, the best he’d felt, and now it was the worst. He had to physically drag his left foot across the street, behind the gym and towards the dorms.

There was this moment where he could not move anymore and he sat down by the nearest half-wall. The skin was not red when he took the shoes off but it was true pain and he would not be able to put the shoes back on. He laughed, frustrated but alive. To the right he saw at a glance the flags flying above the Army training classroom. The federal colors and the black POW/MIA flag. We make it to Quantico in another life, he thought grimly. Didn’t choose it in this one.

“Ethereal Explosion”

An explosion of pastel colours paints the sky, as the sun sets over the frozen and snow dusted Little Cranberry Lake.
I made this time stack by combining 242 photos into one image.

“Cranberry Flames”

A nice sunset over Little Cranberry Lake, which was calmer than usual, providing some good reflections of the colourful clouds.
I made this time stack by combining 477 photos into one image.

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BREAKING: Trump tried to get James Comey to kill the investigation into Michael Flynn, NYT reports

  • President Donald Trump attempted to get former FBI Director James Comey to kill the investigation into former National Security Adviser Michael Flynn, according to a new report from the New York Times.
  • The Times report cites a memo written by Comey shortly after his conversation with Trump. 
  • The Times reported parts of the memo were read to one of its reporters by a source identified as one of Comey’s associates.
  • “I hope you can see your way clear to letting this go, to letting Flynn go,” Trump allegedly told Comey. “He is a good guy. I hope you can let this go.”
  • The Times described the memo as “part of paper trail Mr. Comey created documenting what he perceived as the president’s improper efforts to influence a continuing investigation.”
  • The White House denied the allegation in a statement to the Times, saying the account relayed to the paper is “not a truthful or accurate portrayal of the conversation between the president and Mr. Comey.” Read more (5/16/17 6 PM)
Writing is Hard, pt 8: Slow and Steady

Summary: Dean shows you his favorite kind of sex.

Read Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warning: Smut, dirty talk

Word Count: 3100ish

A/N: This is all written with love for fan fic. I’m teasing, not putting it down in any way. Hope you enjoy! (Sorry, tag list is closed!) XOXO

The motel door opens quietly and you hear Dean shuffle in, his footsteps easy to recognize. You don’t move, body too exhausted to even roll over in bed and say hi.

Sam has to know that Dean comes to your room every night now. Actually, Dean just goes straight in with you now more often than not, leaving Sam to himself. You’ve never discussed it, but you suspect that Sam’s silence on the matter of you and Dean is his thank you for finally having some privacy on a regular basis.

Either way, you aren’t remotely surprised that Dean is here. You listen to boots being kicked off, a gun being placed on the night stand, and clothes being shuffled off. He’s down to his boxers when he slides beneath the covers.

Keep reading

Mt. Etna has been erupting for hundreds of thousands of years. Located in Sicily, Italy, the volcano produces lava fountains over one kilometer high. Mt. Etna is not only one of the most active volcanoes on Earth, it is one of the largest, measuring over 50 kilometers at its base and rising nearly 3 kilometers high!!

Pictured in mid-March, a spectacular lava plume erupts upwards, dangerous molten volcanic bombs fly off to the sides, while hot lava flows down the volcano’s exterior. The Earth’s rotation is discernable on this carefully time, moon-lit, long duration image as star trails.

Image Credit & Copyright: Dario Giannobile