One Of The Kids I’m Babysitting Rn Just Asked Me, “Miss Amy, Can I Tell You A Secret?” And Then

A Post-Season 3 Recommendation List

So you're all caught up with Where the Stars Fell, and somehow, by some miracle, your to-listen list is not a mile long. Be not afraid! While you wait for news of season 4, here's a curated list of other incredible fiction podcasts to give a try (and don't forget some of the amazing shows we've crossed over with like @ameliapodcast, Forgive Me!, and more):

For... - bisexual disasters - sharp, snarky dialogue - personal growth whether you want to or not, buddy

Small Victories @wgc-productions

A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life; too bad life has it out for her. This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of a week in her life.

For... - deeply damaged women falling in love - enemies to... well, you'll see - You Can Never Go Back To Who You Once Where And Thank God For That

The Pasithea Powder @pasitheapowder

On a faraway world, Captain Sophie Green is recovering from a war that ripped her planet apart and left her personal relationships for dead. Among the many atrocities committed on both sides was the invention of Pasithea Powder, a drug with memory altering properties. Thankfully, the drug has been eradicated and only a handful of scientists—now political prisoners—know how to recreate it. When Sophie sees one of those scientists walking free, she has no choice but to turn to an estranged friend for help.

For... - a Filipina lead (you can never have too many) - nontraditional supernatural fantasy - a quirky and well-developed supporting ensemble

Hi Nay @hinaypod

Hi Nay, literally translated to “Hi Mom”, is a supernatural horror fictional podcast about Filipina immigrant Mari Datuin, whose babaylan (shaman) family background accidentally gets her involved in stopping dangerous supernatural events in Toronto.

For... - intricate, naturalistic world-building - guy who wants to clock out so fucking badly but can't because Plot - slow-burn mystery with a crazy twist

The Night Post @thenightpost

In Gilt City, conscripted couriers are both respected and shunned. They inhabit the borderlands between a growing industrial society and the untamed, arcane frontier that surrounds it. The Night Post is a weekly supernatural audio drama about survival, tradition, and the vast unknown.

For... - one country girl making do who loves her truck and brain dumping into an analogue audio device - ambiguous situationships - american gothic and the apocalypse

Breaker Whiskey @breakerwhiskey

In 1968, two women find themselves in rural Pennsylvania during what turns out to be some kind of apocalyptic event. By the time they discover that everyone else is gone, it’s too late to figure out what happened. Despite not liking each other at all, the women work together to survive, until six years later one of them sets out on her own, driving around the country to find other survivors. This is her, calling out to anyone who might listen.

“The oldest olive tree in the world located on the island of Crete. It is estimated to be as over 3,000 years old and still produces olives.”

—

My dad has bees. Today, I went to his house and he showed me all the honey he had gotten from the hives. He took the lid off a 5-gallon bucket full of honey and on top of the honey there were 3 little bees, struggling. They were covered in sticky honey and drowning. I asked him if we could help them and he said he was sure they wouldn't survive. Casualties of honey collection I suppose.

I asked him again if we could at least get them out and kill them quickly, after all he was the one who taught me to put a suffering animal (or bug) out of its misery. He finally conceded and scooped the bees out of the bucket. He put them in an empty Chobani yogurt container and put the plastic container outside.

Because he had disrupted the hive with the earlier honey collection, there were bees flying all over outside.

We put the 3 little bees in the container on a bench and left them to their fate. My dad called me out a little while later to show me what was happening. These three little bees were surrounded by all their sisters (all of the bees are females) and they were cleaning the sticky nearly dead bees, helping them to get all of the honey off of their bodies. We came back a short time later and there was only one little bee left in the container. She was still being tended to by her sisters.

When it was time for me to leave, we checked one last time and all three of the bees had been cleaned off enough to fly away and the container was empty.

Those three little bees lived because they were surrounded by family and friends who would not give up on them, family and friends who refused to let them drown in their own stickiness and resolved to help until the last little bee could be set free.

Bee Sisters. Bee Peers. Bee Teammates.

We could all learn a thing or two from these bees.

Bee kind always.

So my sister wants to start sewing more, because

a. She’s 5′ 11″ and can never find pants long enough for her legs or shirts long enough for her arms.

b. She hates synthetic fibers as much as I do and it’s difficult to find natural fiber clothes that aren’t made of cotton

c. She’s a biologist and would physically fistfight microplastics if given half a chance

So her gift from mom and dad for her birthday was a sewing machine. Not a super expensive one but a good solid serviceable one.

And recently she asked “So where do I GET wool or linen and thread that isn’t polyester” and mom was like ‘go ask your sister’

And I, of course, crashed into the group text like “GET A PEN I HAVE WEBSITES FOR U” and honestly I’m thrilled about this

im just someones weird daughter

if it sucks hit da bricks <- litany against sunk cost

take it easy but take it <- litany against burnout/apathy cycle

fuck it we ball <- litany against perfectionism

now say something beautiful and true <- litany against irony poisoning

something about everything neil gaiman has ever done feels like the root of a broken tooth. sometimes it’s this sort of jarring delight: it’s being six and shoving the tip of your tongue into the hole where your tooth was and tasting the metal of your own pink, enflamed flesh. sometimes it’s viscerally horrific: it’s shattered bits of bone embedded deep in an exposed nerve that you didn’t even really believe you had until just now. sometimes it’s indescribable but somehow universally acknowledged: it’s the taste of your own mouth and knowing something only by feel and the exposure of the parts of you that weren’t ever supposed to know air. the situation adapts, the formats change, the experience shifts, but the core experience of it is always the same

The fact that humans can be killed through physical means is so ridiculous to me

a comic about meeting your younger self :)

Thank you for reading :)