So many fandoms, so little time

I'm not scared or offended or anything, if literal missiles and bombs falling from the sky became nothing more than inconveniences to me, what makes you think you make a difference when you tell me to kms?

It's just genuinely exhausting to see the same stuff commented over and over again just because of a tiny little flag in my name

The post basically went something like this: "My country is currently being bombed and I'm looking for science based tips on how to minimize emotional trauma for my newborn baby. We have loud alerts on our phones, sirens, and also explosions."

The mention of sirens and phone alerts made me suspect this poster is Israeli. I later confirmed it via dm.

But the other redditors automatically assumed they're Iranian, with one of the top replies being:

And there was this one guy I talked with who seemed super sharp, but had virtually zero experience writing software. When it came time to do the show-n-tell part of the interview he whips out his laptop, brings up a website, and spins it around to show me what he made.

A website of tiny ceramic frogs.

Not for sale. Just… all these ceramic frogs, organized into categories. Frogs on bicycles, frogs with hats, frogs sitting on lily pads. It was a virtual museum of ceramic frogs in web form.

I scrolled through his online collection of frogs, slightly baffled.

“This is your website?” I asked finally.

“Yep!”

“You coded this yourself?” I popped into view-source mode and poked around some incredibly well-formatted, well-commented html. I nodded slowly. This guy was meticulous.

“Yep!”

“So… where’d all the frogs come from?”

“I made those too,” he says, beaming. 

And while I’m processing this he rummages in his bag and pulls out a little ceramic frog working at a computer terminal. He places it on the table before us, next to the laptop.

“And THIS one,” he says, “I made for you! As a thank you for the interview.”

It was adorable. I hired him on the spot. I mean, why not? Worst case he’d wash out in 90 days and we’d hire somebody else. He turned out to be one of the best developers on our team. 

The war in Ukraine has reached a turning point. Since the failure of Ukraine’s 2023 counteroffensive, Russia’s full-scale invasion settled into a predictable rhythm of summer and winter offensives, between which the pressure of attacks would ease while Russian units rotated and regrouped. At first glance, this year looks no different. With spring edging into summer, Ukrainian troops in their dugouts along the front are once again seeing the steady rise of Russian strikes and attempted infiltrations. The mood among Ukrainian commanders, however, has changed. Russian attacks are putting less pressure on their units than they did in previous years. Although drone strikes and shelling remain constant, Russian combat performance is waning. In Kyiv, there is a growing optimism that Ukraine can fight Russia to a cease-fire.

Ukraine’s mood shift is not the result of a radical transformation of how the war is being fought but rather stems from a subtle turn in several trends that together point to a major change in the war’s trajectory. For all of 2024 and most of 2025, Russia was able to recruit more soldiers than it was losing, such that Russian forces could increase the intensity of assaults on Ukrainian units even as they suffered high casualties themselves. Ukraine, by contrast, was suffering slightly more casualties than it could offset with new troops, with defensive lines getting thinner and thinner every month. In Moscow, this led to a complacent belief that, even if progress was slow, the Russian military would eventually occupy the entirety of the Donbas, the contested region in eastern Ukraine that Russia laid claim to in 2022. At some point, the Kremlin believed, its gains would accelerate, as international support for Ukraine dried up and as Ukraine struggled to find the combat troops to hold the breadth of the front. This led Moscow to adopt an intransigent stance in negotiations brokered by the United Statesfollowing the reelection of Donald Trump. If talks failed, after all, the Kremlin anticipated getting what it wanted on the battlefield.

Russia, however, is no longer on an inexorable path to achieving even its minimal military objective of securing the Donbas. As Ukraine manages to make gains along the frontline and frustrates Russian offensives, and as the Russian military increasingly feels the strain of the war and the deterioration of its combat power, what has long seemed so implausible has become more likely. Kyiv and its partners could convince Moscow that a cease-fire is its best option.

if you'd rather buy a plushie - here's the shop he and his wife run!

his wife also been in an accident and has been down and out due to illness and injury

ppal + gfm + site shop

This makes me think that was what the planned ending with Terry pratchett was meant to be, resulting in them being able to retire to the South Downs and live peacefully.

Instead NG had already used that up so had to come up with some new bullshit to squeeze out the extra seasons.

So in fact only season 1 is canon and we can take it they did decide to move to the South Downs together at some point after the ending.

Anyone know the source of this? If so it's starting to make sense how it went so wrong.

Some things you can do to save space include growing plants in stackable towers rather than flat rows. Not everything can grow this way, but growing herbs or even strawberries or some kinds of tomatoes in them can save a lot of space. Bonus points if you can get some vertical vining plants like beans or tomatoes to grow up the sides of them to maximize the space used.

Hanging planters can also be used for things like tomatoes, herbs, some berries, etc. The people who grew up watching TV in the 2000s may remember ads for the topsy-turvy tomato planter. I can’t vouch for the effectiveness of them, but it may be good inspiration for creative DIY hanging planters.

Many people don’t seem to know this (to be fair, it’s not very intuitive), but small melons and gourds can be grown vertically on a trellis. You will need pantyhose or something else that can act like a sling for when the fruit gets large enough, and you’ll also want to make sure the trellis is very sturdy. Here is an example of a watermelon growing on a trellis, with squash growing in the background:

Other good options that require a bit more DIY are hydroponics towers and walls. It’s basically just a series of pipes with holes for plants to grow out of. The only downside is they will require very regular fertilization and supplementation with other micronutrients that are essential for plant growth, because the plants are typically grown in either a non-nutritious medium like coconut coir or nothing at all.

Planter walls are the next step down, basically just building shelves with pots in them to fill with soil. Put these on a wall that gets good morning sun and some afternoon sunlight for best results. These and hydroponics both also have the advantage of being able to hook up to your gutters so that rainwater will go towards watering your plants rather than just being wasted.

If you want to get really fancy, aquaponics is the next step up. With aquaponics, you create a system that circulates water between plants and a tank full of fish. The fish waste provides fertilizer for the plants, and the plants help filter out the waste so the water stays cleaner. I’ve heard they’re a bit tricky to establish, but once you find the right balance, all you’ll need to do is feed the fish. This has the added bonus of providing a source of fish for people who can’t eat things like nuts and legumes but need protein. Here is a link to an article explaining what aquaponics is, how it works, and how it differs from hydroponics.

Most of us can’t do it ever even if we use all our space perfectly. Some of us can do it after years of building those skills, and we might still have bad years. And in the end, what does it get us? Self-reliance is a right-wing preppers dream but it isn’t what we should be aiming for.

If we’re thinking about collective survival and we’re looking at food as part of that survival, there’s two things that work:

Start a community garden. Bring together the resources, time and skills by getting together in a big group. 

Or learn to grow a few crops really well and share them with all your friends. 

If you have a lot of nice soil and can do physically exhausting work? Potatoes, pumpkins, zucchini.

If you have a green house? SOOOO many tomatoes. Fruits that require warmth. etc.

Are you a gardening nerd with time and an interest in learning complicated plants? Take on the challenges like broccoli, cauliflower and depending on your needs, location and options, maybe cannabis? Or build a permaculture garden if that’s your thing.

If you have a balcony or window sill or prefer to do light work in high mobile planters due to limited space or mobility? Leafy greens, herbs, radishes, carrots, maybe a small tomato plant.

Peppers are perennials and we talked about bucket planting for those so you can bring them inside if your winters get cold to overwinter and bring them back out in the spring.

In learning how to garden and grow produce it helps to start small and scale up year to year. Try new varieties and planters and spots in the garden, find ways to allow things to volunteer in the spring (leaving peppers, basil and other plants to cast seeds directly). You’ll learn and grow so much, even if much of it isn’t edible.

Remember to grow flowers too - not just because they are pretty but they will attract pollinators who will help your produce grow too! Sunflowers grow great in the US so don’t sleep on those babes.

I’m not going to stop feeling strongly about it in the same way I still feel strongly seeing centuries of my people’s history buried under Catholic churches. I understand the dome is there now, and I don’t think it should be destroyed because I understand the significance it holds now.

But I’m not going to stop being angry about it. Especially since my people are not even allowed to go there. I can’t imagine the rage we Mexicans would justifiably have if Spaniards suddenly decided we aren’t allowed to visit our own ancient cities and temples becuase the land is “their’s now” since they built their churches there. The patience and understanding of the Jewish people is so fucking undermined. We have time and time again been expected to and have bent over backwards for others becuase we fundamentally believe in uplifting everyone, even at the cost of ourselves. Even in our own fucking country. Even in the country everyone accuses of being “Jewish supremacist” do we still face blatant discrimination, and allow ourselves to face it for the sake of our muslim neighbors and muslim Israeli citizens.

When you're in school, the cognitive tasks are there for the explicit purpose of being brain exercises. It's weightlifting. It is FOR building your mental muscles and making you a stronger thinker and planner. "Offloading the cognitive tasks", then, is just Not Doing The Weightlifting. What happens when you pay for your gym membership and just stand around messing around on your phone? Nothing. Nothing happens. Just money leaving your wallet. Nothing else.

Using AI is a short term pleasure that is going to fuck you over in the long term, and by the time you realize that you didn't build the necessary muscles you need for the cognitive tasks required of your ACTUAL JOB (or, like, adult life in general), it's going to be too late to do anything about it... except going back and doing the real work all over again to get you up to speed.

A "book" is (a slightly outdated beyond this specific topic) term for your union card, which states that you're a member in good standing of your local/union and ostensibly means that you have the coinciding skills that go with the title of journeyworker or apprentice or whatever. Typically, to become a journeyman, you serve an apprenticeship (usually 5 years) and then have to take a test of some sort to prove you've acquired all the necessary skills to earn the qualification. The card/book is the proof that you have a basic level of competency.

Sometimes though certain locals, usually in the South or other places where right-to-work or similar attitudes are stronger, will "sell books," which is to say they will allow people who either haven't served an apprenticeship or passed a skills test to buy their card so that they may work on union jobs.

There's a myriad of reasons and reasonings on why a local might do this, but on the ground, it means that if I'm on a big job, anyone from areas or locals that have a reputation for selling books is automatically assumed to be under-qualified. This sucks, because I've known plenty of badass hands from Southern Locals, but because they come from book-selling locals, they had to overcome that stigma. To an extent, this whole thing is self-regulating because if you bought a book and can't hack it, you only come to a travel job once before they will never invite you back, but it is a constant source of sand in the gears for the whole labour management process.

Crowley is marveling at the sight before him, a mother duck carefully guding her ducklings whom are following close behind. The mother puts herself infront of her children, but she cannot help constantly looking back at her own creations. They are flowing aimlessly in the vast body of water. One with nature. Basking in what it really means to just live.

Aziraphale on the other hand, has his eyes trained on another wonder of the world.

A young girl sits on a nearby bench, though she carries herself as if life has placed burdens upon her far heavier than her years should allow. There's another girl next to her, it's a friend, prehaps? She wraps her arms around the troubled one and holds her close, offering the comfort of her presence while the other feels whatever she needs to feel.

The wind blows softly, stirring loose strands of hair and carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter, birdsong, and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Neither girl seems to notice. For this brief moment, the rest of the world has faded into the background.

Aziraphale sighs softly, "Extraordinary, isn't it?"

Crowley follows his gaze, his sunglasses reflecting the image of the two girls sitting together.

"Yeah," he says quietly, a softness creeping into his voice. "Funny thing is, they probably don't even realize they're doing it."

"Doing what?"

Crowley looks back toward the lake, where the mother duck nudges a wandering duckling back toward the group, "Saving each other."

The angel smiles softly at that, scotting closer to Crowley.

"Well, it's a beautiful sight to see indeed," he let's out a breath he has been holding for far too long, "but it wouldn't be as beautiful without you by my side."

Crowley sits with those words quietly. He slowly puts an arm around the angel.

"I mean, ducks are nice and all. Tiny feathery weirdos." He gestures vaguely toward the lake, "But I've seen ducks before."

Aziraphale looks at him, utterly perplexed.

"My dear, what on Earth are you talking about?"

Crowley snorts.

"I'm getting there."

"Getting where?"

"Angel."

"No, really, you've lost me."

Crowley shakes his head fondly before looking back out at the lake.

"I've seen sunsets. Meteor showers. Nebulas. Mountains. Oceans." He glances at him, "The thing that makes them worth remembering is having someone to turn to afterward."

Aziraphale's breath catches.

Crowley shrugs, as though he hasn't just said something monumental.

"And I have to say..." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "If there's one thing I could spend an eternity marveling at, it's you."

Aziraphale is stunned to silence. Not an uncomforble one, the opposite actually. The kind of silence that is at art galleries, where people gaze at something beautiful and find that words would only diminish it.

Crowley shifts slightly under the angel's gaze.

"Oh, don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like that."

Aziraphale's smile is small and impossibly fond.

"How am I looking at you?"

Crowley opens his mouth, then closes it again. Because he doesn't have a name for it.

Above them, the branches sway gently in the afternoon light. Around them, life continues in all its strange, fragile beauty.

A child happily screams somewhere in the distance, the sound carrying across the park as they race through the grass.

The girl who had been crying earlier is no longer hiding behind her hands. She sits a little straighter now, a small smile breaking through as her friend says something that sends them both into laughter. Whatever burden she had been carrying has not vanished, but for the moment, she does not carry it alone.

The ducklings continue to swim along. The breeze carries the scent of grass and warm earth.

It's all terribly ordinary, really. And yet, these were the very things Aziraphale and Crowley had spent six thousand years fighting for.

Aziraphale leans into Crowley, his face only inches away.

"I love you so," he breathes. Then, he closes the distance between them.

The kiss is soft, tender.

Crowley smiles against it, one hand coming up to cup Aziraphale's cheek. He leans in without hesitation, knowing exactly where he belongs.

The world continues to turn around them. You can hear faint noise in the background. Laughs shared. The rustling of leaves. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks, and a child answers with a delighted squeal.

Then, without warning, a raindrop lands on Crowley's nose.

He blinks.

A second follows, splashing against Aziraphale's coat.

Then a third.

The sky opens.

Within seconds, rain begins to pour over the park, sending people running for cover and prompting a chorus of surprised laughter from every direction.

The girls on the bench scramble to gather their things, one of them grabbing the other's hand as they attempt to dash toward the nearest shelter.

The ducklings, meanwhile, seem entirely unbothered by the development.

Crowley looks up at the sky.

"Really?"

The rain answers by becoming even heavier.

Beside him, Aziraphale laughs.

"Well," he says, beaming, "I suppose that's one way to cool off a warm afternoon."

Crowley stares at him.

"Angel."

"Yes?"

"We are getting soaked."

"I had noticed."

"And you're smiling."

"Of course I am."

Crowley shakes his head, utterly helpless against his own fondness.

"I think this is a sign to head back to our bookshop. Warm up with some hot cocoa before dining at the Ritz?"

Aziraphale's eyes brighten at the sound of that.

Before answering, his gaze drifts across the park.

The two girls from earlier are huddled together beneath a tree, trying and failing to shield themselves from the rain. They're laughing now, but neither seems particularly successful at staying dry.

With a subtle flick of his fingers, Aziraphale performs a small miracle.

A large umbrella suddenly appears over their heads.

The girls blink in surprise.

One looks up at the umbrella.

The other looks around in confusion.

Then, deciding not to question their good fortune, they scoot closer together beneath it and continue talking.

Aziraphale watches them for a moment, satisfied.

Only then does he turn back to Crowley.

"That sounds lovely," he says warmly. "Though I think perhaps a pot of cocoa. One mug hardly seems sufficient."

Crowley snorts.

"Naturally."

"And perhaps a few pastries?"

"Of course."

"And then the Ritz."

"Obviously."

The rain continues to fall around them, drumming softly against the lake. the water nurturing the trees around them.

Crowley rises from the bench and offers his hand, "Come on, angel."

Aziraphale takes it without hesitation.

Together, they start toward the bookshop, leaving behind the ducks, the lake, and the rain-soaked park.

Behind them, the girls sit beneath their mysterious umbrella, laughing.

Ahead of them waits a warm bookshop, hot cocoa, and a dinner neither of them will ever admit they had been planning all along.

The afternoon had been beautiful. The evening promised to be even better. And tomorrow would be just as lovely.

Ordinary days.

The sort of days that, when strung together, become a life.

As they disappeared down the rain-slicked street, hand in hand, neither Heaven nor Hell watched from above, no prophecies awaited them.

Just tomorrow. And the world. The same world they had chosen, time and time again.

A world of shifting weather, of second chances. A world where ducklings finding their way home. A world were people hold each other when life became too heavy to bear alone. A world where tears give way to laughter, where old wounds heal slowly, and where kindness survives despite everything.

.......

The Aziraphale and Crowley I know would've never given up on humanity, or on the humanity that lives within them. Crowley would fight for Aziraphale the same way Aziraphale would fight for Crowley.

The answer to a broken world is not to abandon it, but to keep caring for it. That is the Aziraphale and Crowley I fell in love with, and the ones I will always carry with me.