#Doreen Green imagine

[6rookie-writer0110]

Request - Headcannons for Doreen, Kamala, and Nadia van Dyne when they find out their S/O wrote "DUMMY" on Wolverine's (Laura) forehead while she was sleeping and is now chasing them.

Doreen Green aka Squirrel Girl

•” Y/n, it's not a good idea to do that. You know she has a temper” Doreen said.

•” it will be funny” You try not to laugh too loud.

•You write ‘dummy’ on Laura’s forehead.

•You took a picture of it and the flash woke her up.

•You got scared and she starts to glare.

•”Y/n... What are you doing with that Sharpie?” Laura asked.

•Her claws came out.

•You start to scream and run away.

•She starts to chase you

•” I told you, not to do it, babe!” Doreen yelled.

•Doreen did check up on you when Laura almost killed you.

•Doreen gave you a speech about why you shouldn't have messed with Laura.

•But Doreen couldn't help to laugh when you were running and screaming.

Kamala Khan aka Ms. Marvel

•Kamala told you it's a bad idea but she tried not to laugh.

•” it's your funeral,” Kamala said.

•” She started it,” You said.

•Kamala watched you write ‘dummy’ on Laura’s forehead.

•Laura woke up.

•” You have 3 seconds to run away” Laura growled.

“Y/n, run!” Kamala yelled.

“Three!” Laura yelled.

•Laura starts to chase you around the house, and Kamala is laughing.

•But Kamala is recording Laura chasing you.

•You are screaming for help but Kamala is busy laughing and recording.

•Kamala shared the video with her best friends.

Nadezhda "Nadia" van Dyne Aka The Wasp

•Nadia was working on something in the lab.

•she saw you run in and hide in the closet.

•” Why is your shirt ripped!? Is that blood!?” Nadia asked.

“You didn't see me!” You yelled.

•You just hide in the closet and try not to make a noise.

•” Where is Y/n!?” Laura yelled.

“Is that the word dummy on your forehead?” Nadia asked.

“Because Y/n wrote it on my forehead when I was sleeping! When I see Y/n, I will kill them!” Laura yelled.

•Laura left the lab and your heart is racing rapidly.

•You come out of the closet and you are terrified.

•” You are an idiot for doing that to her,” Nadia said.

“I thought it would be funny” You whispered.

“Why are you whispering?” Nadia asked.

“So... She won't hear me,” You said.

•in the middle of the night, Naida was sleeping and she heard screams.

•She runs out of the bedroom and watches you running away from Laura.

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 10

(Frenemies/Tenderness AU)

TEN: Let the Sleeper Awake

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

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Summary: Simon returns in time for the May Day celebration, wanting to surprise his doll, but watching her perform has him viewing her in a very different light.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Spice- just a pinch, Mention of masturbation, Fluff & Feels, Simon checks out doll, Doll checks out Simon, Idiots in love lust, the 141 have a chat sesh, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Beltane (a.k.a. May Eve/May Day) is a fire and... ahem!... fertility festival. So, I thought, what better time for Simon and his doll to finally realize that there's a little more than friendly feelings between them. Let the sleepers awake. 😏)

Word Count: 2.9K

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Chapter 10

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“Beltane magick here we sing

Chant the rune and dance the ring

Joy and blessing shall it bring 

Let the sleeper awake!”

― Doreene Valiente, Beltane Chant

-

The village green was a hive of activity, preparations for the May Day celebration in full swing.

Booths, tents and stalls lined the streets, vendors setting up their wares and stocking up for the large crowds expected for the two-day celebration. An abundance of flowers, real and fake, decorated the whole of the village’s heart, garlands and wreaths attached to every available surface, every shop window sporting bright floral displays.

The maypole had been raised at the back of the green, its brightly colored ribbons fluttering in the warm breeze. The volunteers performing this year were gathered off to the side taking a break from their practice, you and Fiona among them.

The two of you had been roped into volunteering, so you both had to learn the performances from scratch. Fi especially was struggling with the interweaving moves, cursing under her breath every time she made a misstep.

“If I’d known it was goin’ t’be this big of a pain in me arse, I would’a hid in the loo when I saw Margie comin’,” she groused, wiping a forearm across her brow. She turned up her bottled water and took a large gulp as she glared at Margie Bartleby, proud owner of the Tea Room and the entertainment director of the festivities this year. “All tha’ woman needs is a bloody whip t’crack over our heads.”

You sniffed in amusement, not bothering to comment. You knew Fi was just venting her frustration and didn’t mean a word of what she said. You and she both adored the older woman, though you had to admit that Margie could be a right task master when she wanted to be.

You sipped at your water as you pulled your cell from your back pocket to check your notifications, drifting under the shade of a tent to see the screen better. You were hoping to see a message from Riley, but you were again disappointed.

He’d been gone since the last week of March, only a week and half after you had moved in with him. There had been no word from him save for a single text around mid-April to tell you if all went according to plan, he might be home by the end of the month. You had really been hoping he would make it back in time for the May Day celebration, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. He always seemed to be deployed during holidays.

“Still no word?” Fi asked, joining you.

You sighed and slipped the phone back in your pocket. “No.”

She nudged your shoulder. “Maybe ye’ll get a May Day miracle an’ he’ll show up dressed like Jack o' the Green.” Her grin turned lewd. “Can’t ya just picture it? Riley wearin’ nothin’ but a patch o’ moss over his dangly bits with oak leaves stuck all in his mask?”

“Fi-ona!” Heat crept up your neck to your cheeks, yet the image she created popped unbidden into your head.

Your face grew hotter as you imagined him dressed as Fi had described, the mental pictures in your head far from chaste. Riley was built like a Norse god, and even with the mask he earned his fair share of appreciative glances. You couldn't help but look, too; you were his friend, but that didn't make you immune to him.

When you heard Fi laughing at you, you blinked out of your daydream and narrowed your eyes. “Shut up,” you hissed at her, but couldn’t hide your wry smirk.

“Come along, lovies! Break's over!” Margie called to the group. “Let’s get back to it. We need to practice the bonfire procession and dance next!”

Fiona groaned, scowling. “God, I’ll be glad when we’re done with this. Never again,” she vowed as the two of you trudged back out to the green together.

-

Simon sat back in his seat, eyes focused out the window of the plane, half-listening to Soap and Gaz arguing about how they were going to spend their first night on leave. His cell phone was in his hand, your last text open. It was an image of the green decorated for May Day.

“Oi, Ghost! Ya should come with us t'night. We’re goin’ to that new pub in Hereford,” Gaz invited.

Simon slanted a glance his way, dark eyes glinting inside his skull mask. “Can’t. Got plans.”

“Ah, c’mon, mate. Readin' in your bunk isn’t plans,” Gaz replied, scoffing.

“Did ye ferget?” Soap spoke up, a mischievous smirk on his face as he bumped the other sergeant's arm. “Ghost has t’get’ home t’see his doll dance. Ain't tha' right, LT?”

Simon scowled at him. The nosy bastard had overheard him tell Price about you performing in the May Day festival, after the captain had asked him how "his doll" was doing. So, of course, Johnny hadn’t shut up about it since, pestering him for intel about his ‘wee doll’.

“Oh, that’s right,” Gaz drawled, his smile spreading wide. “Maybe we should go home with Ghost, then. You can introduce us to your doll.”

“Not happenin',” Simon gruffed. “Ya lot ain’t gettin’ anywhere near ‘er.”

Soap chuckled, puffing out his chest. “Worried I’ll nick yer lass, LT?” He smoothed his hand over his mohawk, flexing his bicep with a cheeky grin. “Canna blame ye. There’s a lot here t’tempt her away,” he teased, making his pecs jump beneath his tight tee. Gaz cackled.

Simon stuck his phone back in his pocket and crossed his arms over his chest, tipping his chin down at the sergeant. “Ain't worried. Dee knows a wanker when she sees one."

"Oh-ho!" Soap crowed. "So, it's Dee, is it? Slipped up an' said her name, LT." He winked at Gaz as Simon muttered a curse. "Dee an' Johnny. Got a nice ring to it, aye?"

“Enough, lads,” Price called from behind his laptop, not even bothering to look up. The two immediately shut their gobs.

As soon as the plane touched down, Simon was up and heading down the ramp as it lowered. Grinning like a devil, Soap was ready to head after him when Price grabbed him by the back of his tac vest and hauled him back. 

“Bloody hell, lad, give it a rest,” he uttered lowly.

Gaz came abreast of them and leaned into whisper, “We just wanna know about her, Cap. I mean— it's Ghost. Kinda hard to imagine him havin' a bird. Has he told ya anything about her? Have ya seen a picture of her?"

Price scrubbed at his beard. “Never met the lass. Ya lads know he likes to keep his personal life private. Now, both of ya, leave it alone.”

“Canna believe yer no' a wee bit curious, sir,” Soap persisted. “Would ye no' like t’meet the lass tha’ caught the Ghost?”

Price wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t curious, but more than anything, he was just glad to see his lieutenant at ease, for a change. He was still a right broody cunt, but his attitude had definitely improved. “Lads, as long as she makes him happy, that’s all I care 'bout. Now, mind yer bloody business an' leave him alone, yeah?”

“Think he’d show us a picture of her if we asked nice?” Soap wondered aloud, undeterred. "I bet she's a right bonnie lass, aye? Have t'be t'get the LT all hot an' bothered." He waggled his eyebrows.

Price dragged a hand over his face and groaned.

-

Simon ended up parking behind the Dog when he finally made into to the village. Coming through the alley, he could see the crowd milling about the green and vendor booths, the smell of fried food and sweets wafting down the ginnel on the breeze. His stomach growled and he cursed himself for not eating something before leaving the base, but he'd been in a hurry to get home.

He usually stayed on base if he wasn't deployed when events like this were going on in Banfield. He hated dealing with the extra traffic and large crowds that descended on the village, but he could suck it up and deal with it just this once, since it was for you.

Apparently, he'd made it back just in time. Most of the crowd had gathered near the back of the green around the maypole, Margie's familiar voice loud and clear over the PA system as she announced that the maypole dance was about to begin.

Simon pressed through the throng of people, ignoring the looks and startled gasps as they shuffled out of his way. His eyes scanned over the dancers, searching for you, his eyes going a little wide when he spotted you standing with your back to him.

He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but he felt like he'd been poleaxed, his dazed eyes roving over your figure. You were dressed like the other dancers, wearing a pastel satin undress covered in layers of wispy, see-through tulle, but the underdress clung to your breasts and hips, the swell of your bum accentuated by the slippery material. When you shifted your weight to pose in the starting position, a split in the underdress revealed the length of your thigh, the layered tulle separating to expose it.

Simon's mouth fell open under his surgical mask, eyes avid as the music began to play. He watched with rapt attention as you skipped and dipped and twirled, weaving in and out with the other dancers to braid the colored ribbons around the pole. Your hair had been left loose, a crown of flowers on your head, makeup done to give your features an ethereal cast. You looked like a fairy, flitting around, he mused. A really curvaceous, sultry, sexy fairy...

A familiar feeling tingled low in his abdomen and the front of jeans were suddenly too tight. He shook his head, grunting at his base reaction, but now that he'd seen you this way, he knew there was no denying it. You were stunning, the prettiest bird he'd ever seen. His pretty doll. Possessive pride welled up in his chest, straightening his spine and lifting his chin. That was his beautiful doll out there dancing; his.

When the dance ended, all the performers took a bow and then the crowd surrounded them. Simon hung back, waiting, wanting to see your expression when you finally spotted him.

So worth the wait.

It was Fiona that saw him first, nudging your shoulder and whispering at your ear as she pointed him out. The slight frown of confusion on your face transformed into a look of joyous surprise, your smile wide and beaming as you rushed to meet him, crying out, "Oh, my God! Ri!" as you leapt up to wrap your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

It stunned him at first, being greeted that way. Anyone else would have found themselves thrown to the ground with a knee in their back, but you? You he caught up in his arms and held on tight, breathing you in as his hands molded to your back and waist like he had done this a thousand times. It was instinctive and felt so right.

You pulled back to gaze into his eyes, your smile becoming something softer, more intimate. "I'm so glad you made it, Ri. Can't believe you're finally home. I've missed you."

His chest went tight, a pleased flush warming his face. He pressed his forehead to yours. "Missed ya, too, doll. 'S good t'be home."

He had a sudden, intense urge to pull down his mask and kiss you. His fingers twitched on your back, muscles spasming in his arms. He couldn't recall the last time he'd kissed a woman on the lips, but damn if he wasn't gaggin' to bloody do it now. From the soft, hazy look in your eyes, he didn't think you would mind it, either, which only made the temptation worse.

You both turned your heads, startled, when Fiona giggled. She was already lowering her cellphone to look at the pic she had just taken. Simon tensed, his first instinct being to bark at her to delete the photo, but then another idea popped into his head.

He lowered you to the ground, stepping behind you before planting his hands firmly on your hips and pulling you back against his chest. "Take another one, Fi. Want t'send one t'my team."

She dutifully took the picture, smiling as she stepped forward to show you both how well it had turned out. "That one's a keeper."

Simon stared down at the picture, liking the way the two of you looked together. A rush of heat coursed through his veins at the sight of his hands on your hips, your hands covering his. He glanced over at your face as you studied the photo, and he could only describe your expression as incandescent; you were bloody glowing.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into his side as his eyes met yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "Definitely a keeper."

-

Simon ended up with dozens of photos saved on his phone by the time the festival was over. His favorite was the one Fiona had first taken, the one where he was holding you up in his arms, your heads together. He set that one as his screensaver.

However, the one he viewed the most was the one he took at the bonfire the last night of the festival.

He took it during the bonfire dance, you and the other dancers circling the high flames as you swayed and undulated in a jaw-dropping, frenzied dance that had wrecked his world. His heart had been beating as hard as the drums, his eyes fixated on you with a predatory intensity.

Then you had looked at him.

You had seen him in the crowd, a teasing, open-mouthed smile directed his way as your arms lifted over your head and you rolled your hips in a move that punched the air out of his lungs. He had lifted his phone and snapped the photo, capturing the moment.

He captured your sultry smile, that hooded gaze that was meant just for him. Your body's curves stood out in stark relief against the dark, your silken skin aglow from the flames. Every time he looked at it, he ended up in the loo with his cock in his hand, choking back his groans as he desperately fisted himself to completion.

It was bloody torture watching you disappear into your own bedroom later that night, every cell of his body on fire with the need to follow you. He didn't, but he wanted to. It was the fear of losing you that finally had him shuffling off to his own room, settling for your photo and his calloused hand.

It was on Sunday afternoon that he got a notification that the team was in their private group chat. You and Fi were gone to the shops, and he was sitting on the patio, drinking a Stella and enjoying the garden. Might as well join in, he thought; he had nothing better to do at the moment.

As soon as he entered the chat, Soap and Gaz started asking for details about the festival and, of course, you. Feeling a bit sadistic, the first photos he shared were of the green, the bonfire, the pub.

[SOAP]: Come on LT. U ken what we want! Show us a pic of ur doll. 😏 [GHOST]: No [GAZ]: Pleeeeaaaase!!! 🙏🏿🥺 [PRICE]: Bloody hell. Ignore them, lad. [GAZ]: We just want to see her Cap... [SOAP]: Is she ugly? I bet shes ugly. [PRICE]: SOAP! [GHOST]: Far from it johnny [SOAP]: Ur killn us LT! Just 1 pic pls pls pls!!! [PRICE]: Stand down, Sgts! Jesus Christ!

Simon couldn't help himself. He wanted to show you off. There was a smug smile on his face when he forwarded them the photos of you in a zip file.

There was a minute of inactivity, then the messages began to ping in rapid fire succession.

[GAZ]: That's ur doll?! She's bloody gorgeous, m8! 👍🏿 [SOAP]: sTEAMn fUKnJESUS!!!! [SOAP]: Insta-chub 👀🍆 [PRICE]: Well done, lad! She's a beauty. [SOAP]: Shes ded bonnie. U should introduce me 😈 [GAZ]: When can we meet her??? Is her friend single? 😏 [PRICE]: Behave, lads...

Simon huffed in amusement, feeling rather cocky as he began typing.

[GHOST]: Thx cap. [GHOST]: Her friend is single gaz. [GHOST]: U can suck it johnny. She's MY doll [GAZ]: Yeah. Suck it Soap! 😅 [SOAP]: Fair enough but... [SOAP]: Can I keep the pic of her @ the bonfire? [PRICE]: Christ. I need bloody a drink. Congrats, Simon. *(PRICE has left the chat.) [GHOST]: Hm. Just the one pic? [SOAP]: 🙏🥺 PLS??? [GHOST]: LOL [GHOST]: Hell NO [SOAP]: 😭 [GAZ]: 🤣🤣🤣

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[duffylin]

the chicago resident, doreen “duffy” lin, was heard blaring don’t delete the kisses / wolf alice this morning . the twenty six year old is a bartender / veterinary student in the city & has lived the west tower for nine months. since being here, they have been told to be stubborn, but also devoted, i guess we'll find out soon !

tw: parental death

BASICS.

name: doreen 'duffy' lin.

nickname: duffy. duff. dove. anything except doreen. whos that? don't know her.

gender: cis woman

pronouns: she / her.

age: 26.

date of birth: november 25th

place of birth: donegal, ireland.

spoken languages: english, cantonese, irish.

occupation: bartender / veterinary student.

education: zoology degree, currently a grad student

romantic orientation: bisexual.

sexual orientation: bisexual.

relationship status: single.

FAMILY.

parents: enya lin (50), flynn duffy (deceased).

siblings: daria lin (23), julian (half brother), some ex step-siblings.

maternal extended: sylvie lin (aunt), sebastian jelley (uncle-in-law), joy jelley (cousin), leo jelley (cousin), connor jelley (cousin).

paternal extended: ciaran duffy (uncle), maeve duffy (aunt) + cousins, doreen duffy (grandmother), keith duffy (grandmother).

pets: juzi + dubh (her two cats) - would love more.

PHYSICAL.

faceclaim: havana rose liu.

accent: mix between a donegal + dublin accent, softened since moving to the states

height: 5'5.

build: slim, muscular.

eye colour: jade green

hair: reddish - brown, wavy and cascading down to her back. very rarely puts it up outside of work.

tattoos: a couple scattered about.

piercings: ears.

distinctive features: freckles across her cheeks, more noticeable in the summer.

BACKGROUND.

star crossed lovers are often bound by tragedy. and, enya lin and flynn duffy were no exception. from the moment the lin family moved in across the duffy's, flynn was smitten. enya was utterly oblivious to his affection, but they quickly became inseparable friends. they always seemed to find their way back to each other, even after endless ups and downs. it wasn't until university that enya reciprocated his feelings, following a string of toxic relationships. but, once all their cards were on the table, that was it.  

marriage was never in their plans. it was one of the many things they always agreed on; money was better spent on their future. instead, they opened a small music venue in the heart of donegal. it was something they'd always talked about, but never imagined actually going.

a year after opening, enya discovered she was pregnant. her family were far more enthusiastic about the prospect than flynn's. his mother was still in hysterics over their decision not to marry, but mellowed after she found out the child was named after her. they welcomed doreen lin nine months later.

donegal is where she spent the three years of her life, surrounded by people who loved her. it's all a blur to her now, a distant memory, but they were some of the best days of her life. she was a tad spoilt, both sides of her family were to blame for that, and she adored being in nature. she was always bringing home little 'gifts' for the family, which typically included a newt or mouse or whatever little critter she stumbled on.

a trip to dublin is where disaster struck. since it's inception, the business had been thriving and they were even talking about expanding elsewhere in the country. flynn had gone down to meet an old university friend about potentially helming a new venue for them in the city. everything had been going smoothly until a wayward driver crashed into their car. a few hours later enya received the call that would change everything.

flynn's death broken enya - her mind, her soul, anything that held so tightly together by his presence shattered in an instance. he was her soulmate, a ribbon sewn into her very being that was slowly being undone and thrown into an abyss so dark it nearly consumed her. a darkness save one for one small light - doreen. so much of him was in her, so much that it almost pained her to look, and yet she couldn't look away. everything he had left, he'd left in her, from the locks he'd sworn weren't really ginger to the freckles that danced across her cheeks and impossibly emerald eyes.

to then discover she had a second child on the way, she would have burst into flames if it wasn't for her family. her younger sister was born, and the world became even heavier. she was named her daria, after the titular character, and she grew to be very much like her namesake as she got older.

for enya the business, as important as it had been to her, became background noise. it was now a painful reminder of everything she had accomplished with flynn, one she couldn't bare for much longer. she tried to keep afloat, for those around her and herself, but she was starting to drown. so, she sold up. she'd always hoped that the venue would stay as it was, but not long after she'd heard it'd been turned into some worker men's club.

duffy, as she now went by, was five years old when her mother packed up their stuff and moved them to dublin. her jobs frequently changed, so they often found themselves moving from town to city - it was a rather nomadic childhood from then. it was just the three of them, and it was perfect. until her mother had to ruin it by dating again. men that would steal all their money and leave them penniless, or would just treat them both like garbage. or worst of all, try and act like her dad. there was the rare instance of a good one slipping through the cracks, but they didn't last long.

she was fifteen when the promise of a job brought them to new york. her aunt, sylvia, had moved there to start up a magazine, and needed some help getting it off the ground. it was the change they needed. the three of them got a small apartment and settled into life there. the work paid enough to cover cost of the apartment, but to support themselves better, duffy ended up getting a job at the local zoo where she found her passion for animals grew.

duffy planned to go to university in new york, study zoology and stay home to save on accommodation (and because she'd miss them too much). after that, get a job working in animal rescue and get a place close by. the plan changed when her mother got married, which had come as an absolute shock. her mother had always been so anti--marriage and she just assumed dale was another failed relationship waiting to happen. when she'd been told of their engagement, she almost laughed. surely, he must have pushed her into it, she always thought - he always seemed like a walking pile of red flags to her. kids included. and, now she had a new baby brother. it was like a fever dream.

after graduating, she and her sister got a place together and she started working back at the zoo. finding rescue shelter jobs that weren't volunteer was extremely difficult, and as much as she wanted to take a step away from that area of the animal industry, she needed the money. so she decided to go to save up and go to veterinary school. chicago seemed like a viable option - it did help that her mother had just relocated there with her husband.

being near her mother again, it was like coming home. being near her step-dad, was not. they often clashed when she visited on weekends. and she always picked up on little things he did, and the way her mum changed around him. not a good change. and it wasn't just her noticing this, but her sister, and even enya herself - despite getting defensive when anyone said anything remotely close to the subject. but, she couldn't lie to herself. she was unhappy. she wasn't herself. his children hated her. her children weren't fond of him.

after one fateful chat (after one too many wines) with duffy and her sister, they all came to the conclusion that the reason she wasn't happy in many of her relationships was because she was gay. it was a truth accepted so easily, just like she had accepted duffy all those years ago. and, it explained so much, but it didn't change the love she had for a number of men in her life, including duffy's father - it was just not quite the love she thought.

both duffy and daria pushed their mother to tell dale. he may have been an absolute leech with terrible children, but surely he'd be understand. and in truth, duffy would never forgive her mother for not being true to herself. they had not expected dale to explode the way he had. he felt lied to, is something he kept repeating. the divorce, still ongoing, has been messy to say the least. mostly the custody of duffy's little brother.

nine months ago, duffy moved in with her enya at marina towers to support her through the divorce. it also happened to coincide with duffy's eviction notice after their partner destroyed their apartment during a party whilst she was away, not that she's going to let anyone know that. it's not something that she needs people worrying about. she recently got a job bartending to help out with extra cash on the weekends, whilst trying not to worry about what she's going to do after graduating in a couple years. she's doing too much, and it's starting to take a toll - she's trying not to let the cracks show.

PERONSALITY.

duffy, for as long as anyone can remember, has always been a devoted daughter and friend - to the point of perhaps being overbearing, especially in regards her family. she would drop anything for the people she cares about, even if it means sometimes neglecting her own needs. though, that can be a good excuse for ignoring problems in her own life, like breakups. why deal with your own problems, when you can deal with others? she's always fine even when she isn't basically. she's got a habit of putting way too much on her plate. working, studying, taking care of her family, trying to juggle a social life. she has a schedule and she likes to stick to it to manage it all, but lately it's becoming too much even for her. she's quite good at hiding her struggles but she's not been great - sleeping late, waking early. deep down, she doesn't know how much longer she can keep this up. she's outgoing but burns out after a while. she's always needed quite time, but she's been needing it more lately - just a place to escape, even if it means just sitting in silence with someone. her room is an organised mess which she prefers, so people touching her things is a no. if she believes she's right, it will take a lot of convincing to change her opinion.

MISC.

she wants to open her own veterinary clinic or go work as a nature reserve after graduating. she hasn't made her mind up yet.

has 2 cats, dubh and juzi.

she and her family travel to ireland twice a year. on her dad's birthday and the anniversary of his death. her mother had to skip his last birthday because of dale. boo. we hate dale.

lactose intolerant queen

hates to shop at lush in person - it's so utterly overwhelming in there for her so she just avoids it at all cost, which really sucks cause she loves their bath bombs.

barely ever sleeps and then wakes up super early - either from working late on weekends or studying late - it's starting to have a massive effect but she refuses to believe it and would rather people didn't worry. coffee / redbull fuels her at this point.

really wants to live on a houseboat like she did briefly as a kid.

became vegetarian after watching a documentary when she was eleven.

grows herbs and veg on the balcony of their apartment. she thought it'd be a good idea for her and her mother to do together when she's not working or studying.

pinterest (will add link soon)

WANTED CON.

mother dearest! - she and her mum are insanely close. and i'm going to be putting a wc out for her.

ex (really bad) - she's had two recent break ups. she got out of a relationship around the time she moved in with her mother. quite a bad breakup. the person they were dating had a party whilst they were away and pretty much destroyed their place and led to them getting evicted - she's avoided mentioning this to her mother for nine months.

ex (sorta bad) - this was in the last nine months, but quite short relationship. it ended because she wasn't investing enough into the relationship. they had a blast together, but they noticed she'd been putting to much on her plate with her family and school and work, and neglecting what they had as a result.

friends! i would love her to have some friends. whether that's surface level that she just sees around the building or something deeper. her mother is quite affable, so maybe people who she's met through her.

people who come into the bar she works at on weekends

friends to lovers - i'm a sucker for it. like, so much. her mother always taught her the basis for love should be friendship - not that she ever set a great example with that her dad.

if i think of anything else, i'll add it, but honestly, i'm down to listen to anyone else's ideas too!

[jasper-pagan-witch]

10 least favorite witchy books. I wanna know what you hate most

Ask Me My Top 10/Top 5 Anything

See what I mean about this and the previous ask?

1: House Witch OR Green Witch | Arin Murphy-Hiscock: Most things by Arin Murphy-Hiscock suck. These two are just copy-pastes of each other.

2: Anything by Doreen Virtue: She's a scammer and a grifter, what more can I say?

3: Psychic Witch | Mat Auryn: A fucking dredge to get through. Painful in so many words. I have a review on it posted on my blog somewhere.

4: Rebel Witch | Kelly-Ann Maddox: I don't hate this because it's bad (it's perfectly fine), it's just that it's so fucking repetitive and Wiccan-centric. It just didn't feel nearly as rebellious as it claimed it was trying to be.

5: The Goodly Spellbook | Coven Olvenwilde: This one got a whole ass rant.

6: A Spellbook For the Seasons | Tudorbeth: The first flaming piece of garbage I ever reviewed on Tumblr. Terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, also extremely repetitive despite the weird season segregation? Don't know what that was all about.

7: A Tea Witch's Grimoire: Magical recipes for your teatime. | S M Harlow: This one was...strange. You know those compilations of tea recipes you find on Tumblr? Now imagine if someone combined that into a book and sold it on Amazon for fifteen bucks. They don't even taste good and the book is somehow STILL stock full of appropriation and misuse of terminology. How the fuck.

8: Elements of Witchcraft series | various authors, published by Llewellyn Publishing: I only use these for crystal and plant correspondences, sometimes animal ones too. Every time I open it to a different page, I want to strangle the publishing house with my bare hands.

9: In fact, let's just add anything original that gets produced by Llewellyn Publishing.

10: And most books on my correspondences shelf. They're fine for correspondences, but I avoid the actual content because otherwise I'd want to bite out someone's throat like a werewolf.

Bonus: It's Witchcraft: a beginner’s guide to secular & non-secular witchcraft | Jamie Weaver: A hodgepodge mess. Difficult to read and follow. Not nearly as secular as it's trying to be.

~Jasper

[joshuasumter]

Joshua Sumter and the Ironheart

My self-insert crossover parody retelling/reimagining of The Princess and the Frog (2009)

Short summary/premise: An autistic young man learns a lesson in love when a fateful kiss with a fairy sends him on a mystical yet familiar modern twist adventure, setting off a hilarious chain of events. It's like "The Princess and the Frog" meets "The Emperor's New Groove" with a hint of "Brother Bear." Synopsis: Think you know the story of Disney's The Princess and the Frog? Imagine a crossover parody retelling of the original 2009 animated hit where an autistic young boy, who once had it all and lived a single life, learns a lesson in love when he meets a fairy, and a fateful kiss sets off a hilarious chain of events that turns things upside down. Set in an alternate universe and its story based on 2009's The Princess and the Frog, young and autistic Joshua Sumter (Me) had everything he needed for living his best yet awesome single life. After all, romance would be the last thing on his mind as he makes his own moves, doing his own things, hanging out with friends, all that jazz. Things seem to be going well until Nadia Van Dyne (Wasp) comes to town, prompting Joshua's friend Lewis (Meet the Robinsons) to throw a huge, epic party for her. During the party, Joshua slipped away to be alone for a while…and this puts him into contact with Nadia Van Dyne and her friend, Riri Williams (Ironheart), who are in quite of a pickle. Nadia and Riri (with maidservant valet, Ms. Grunion (Mr. Peabody & Sherman), in tow) came to town in search of fun and adventure, but unfortunately, their arrival caught the attention of witty voodoo slick talker Frederique "Freddie" Facilier (Descendants: Wicked World). During the very day Nadia was to meet Lewis, Freddie Facilier put her scheme into action by luring the two girls and Ms. Grunion into her voodoo lair, where she turned Riri into a fairy and trapped her and Nadia in a jar while changing Ms. Grunion into the spitting image of Nadia. Then, she'll sit back and watch the chaos ensues…all part of a plan to take down Lewis's family and steal the family fortune. But there was a thing, or two Freddie did not anticipate -- Joshua being the wild card and a strange allegiance that'll undercut her plans when he meets Nadia and Riri. Soon, a fateful kiss with a fairy has change everything in Joshua's life, turning it into a familiar modern twist as his plans took a detour. Not only that, but Riri's and Nadia’s chance to get back home and outwit Freddie Facilier's plans of voodoo madness rest on his shoulders. Left with no choice and having a hard time cooperating, Joshua is convinced by Nadia to help them and bond with Riri, forcing them into an unlikely alliance. Now they must overcome their differences to deal with hair-raising dangers, crazy and wild comic predicaments, and even each other until they learn some valuable life lessons, including the meaning of trust and true love, as they embark on a groovy adventure to seek the magnificent Merlin (The Sword in the Stone) to undo the spell. While having difficulties and obstacles in their lives, they are being by joined by Kamala Khan, Doreen Green with Tippy Toe the Squirrel, Flik, and Jiminy Cricket…and an unlikely, budding romance was bloomed between Joshua and Riri along the way. But Freddie Facilier had plans of her own as she's in hot pursuit on their trail, bent on using Nadia's blood to further her purposes with the help of a few demonic beings in the form of an angry army of shadows and the epic powers that are beyond manipulation of both magic and mind. Ultimately, Joshua and Riri's love for each other made them realize that they must rely each other to get through the toughest of times…all part of growing up, putting things right, and learning the true meaning of their bond. CAST: Joshua Sumter (ME) as Tiana (Human/Frog)

Riri Williams/Ironheart (The Marvel Rising Universe) as Naveen

Iridessa (Disney Fairies) as Frog Naveen

Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel, Doreen Green/Squirrel Girl with Tippy Toe the Squirrel (The Marvel Rising Universe) as Louis

Flik (A Bug's Life) with Jiminy Cricket (Pinocchio) as Ray

Frederique "Freddie" Facilier (Descendants: Wicked World) as Dr. Facilier

Ms. Grunion (Mr. Peabody & Sherman) as Lawrence

Nadia Van Dyne/Wasp as herself/Fake Naveen

Merlin (Sword in the Stone) with Bud Robinson (Meet the Robinsons) as Mama Odie

Joshua Sweet (Atlantis: The Lost Empire) as Eudora

Queen Tara (Epic) as James

Lewis/Cornelius Robinson (Meet the Robinsons) as Charlotte La Bouff

Bob Parr/Mr. Incredible (The Incredibles) as Big Daddy La Bouff

[mistress-of-words]

I posted 7,168 times in 2022

That's 7,168 more posts than 2021!

74 posts created (1%)

7,094 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@toobaornottooba

@roruna

@therese-lokidottir

@jonquilclegane

@dingdongyouarewrong

I tagged 547 of my posts in 2022

#loki - 337 posts

#sigyn - 290 posts

#logyn - 215 posts

#marvel - 148 posts

#norse mythology - 133 posts

#squirrel girl - 63 posts

#justiceforsigyn - 56 posts

#doreen green - 46 posts

#mcu - 38 posts

#logyn art - 29 posts

Longest Tag: 87 characters

#thor like *purcahses 494873 things* and then says they should all share in carrying smh

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I just love them so much, your honour.

47 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

#4

60 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#3

Why is it almost impossible to find anything good about Sigyn outside of certain internet circles? Like the number of bad versions of Sigyn far out weigh the good ones. What is it about her that make people write her as the abused and neglected wife of Loki when none of the sources suggest this. And if anything the fact that we know so little about Sigyn makes it so easy for new and different tellings of her, but nope the biggest difference is if she’s just annoying or abused. Great job using that imagination people. And for God sake why would Sigyn stay at the side of Loki if he didn’t at least return some of the feelings? Well, at least I have the internet to provide me with some decent Sigyn content.

71 notes - Posted March 23, 2022

#2

155 notes - Posted September 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

262 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[ausetkmt]

NEWCOMB — Back in 2004, a mysterious collection of photos anonymously appeared at the Adirondack Experience, a museum in Blue Mountain Lake. They were taken in 1932 and show a dead, Black man tied to a toboggan surrounded by three white men.

Doreen Alessi-Holmes, the museum’s collections manager, said she was speechless when she first saw the photos.

“It’s very troubling to look at the propped up corpse of a human and people just sort of standing around like ‘yeah, sure, take our photo with this trophy,’ and I don’t know that that’s what they were thinking, but that is how it plays today when you look at those photographs,” said Alessi-Holmes.

Now the museum is trying to unravel the mystery behind those photos and is partnering with a Black artist to bear witness to what really happened back in 1932.

Alessi-Holmes helped determine the general location where the Black man was killed, a place that can be accessed by an old logging road in the central Adirondacks near Newcomb.

On a warm, late summer day, Alessi-Holmes and her husband Shane Holmes, a licensed outdoor guide and IT specialist for the Adirondack Experience, led artist Keith Morris Washington down the logging road.

Washington is an artist and professor at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design whose work includes landscape paintings and portraits. More recently, Washington’s work has explored Black identity in America, using art to highlight the violence that Black people have faced over the centuries.

For one project, titled “Within our Gates,” Washington paints landscapes of lynching sites around the US. It’s what brought him here, to the Adirondacks.

“For me, part of this is to go to the places to bear witness, because it really is, for me, about honoring the memories of the victims,” said Washington.

In this case, the victim was a Black man who encountered two white men in these woods in March 1932. According to historical records, they went their separate ways, but the two men reported the Black man to the police. A few days later a larger group tracked him down, a gunfight ensued, and the Black man was killed.

As Alessi-Holmes walked down the logging road, she pointed out features in the landscape, obstacles the man must have had to endure while he was being tracked down by the group of white men.

“As we’re moving forward keep your eyes on that ridge ahead of us because that is the Dunbrook Range and it’s an intimidatingly high and steep mountain and I just can’t imagine climbing up over that in the winter.”

[image4:right:50%]Washington will paint this landscape, but not the violence that occurred here. His pieces focus more on the natural features of the place, the beautiful and sublime aspects of it. He uses a series of “squiggle marks” to paint lush green grasses, tall trees, and wispy, blue skies.

His artistic process is more a tribute to life than to death. “Even when I’m painting, I’m not thinking about the tragic nature of the person’s life,” said Washington, “but really trying to think about the ways in which I’m honoring the person’s life and documenting their history.”

Another person who’s been working to document the history of what happened in these woods is Eliza Jane Darling, an anthropology professor and former public historian for Hamilton County.

“This is the history of our region and we need to understand what happened and we certainly need to establish facts,” said Darling, “but in the second place, I think there is a question of social justice and justice for this man.”

Darling has poured over the police and coroner’s reports, piecing together what really happened over those few days in March. She’s also read articles about the manhunt and the man’s death, which made national news at the time.

Darling said the sensationalized media back then is similar to the racist stereotypes Black people still face to this day.

“The headlines that this made could have been taken from today’s headlines, they really could have,” said Darling. “You know, the over-estimation of the man’s threat, the dehumanization involved in calling him a ‘wild man,’ the fact that his body was left exposed, the fact that someone called the police when there didn’t appear to be any crime having been committed.”

Darling wrote two articles for Adirondack Daily Enterprise in 2021 (part 1 and part 2), laying out what she learned about the killing. According to records, the man is buried in nearby North Creek. Darling hopes one day to determine the identity of the man.

Near the end of the old logging road, Alessi-Holmes pointed out something fluttering atop some wildflowers. “There’s an American beauty butterfly over there right now and it’s on a plant that’s locally called pearly everlast.”

The Adirondacks are a place of deep wilderness and a lot of beauty, but they’re also a place where prejudice and racism still exist. Artist Keith Morris Washington said that is still evident here today.

“As I was driving in yesterday, I saw a New York license plate and a Confederate plate underneath it,” Washington explained. “It’s just like, yeah, you can’t get away from that kind of ignorance, I’ll put it that way kindly.”

At the end of the road, Washington stopped to take a few photos and reflect on the experience.

“As I was walking to this place I was, in a sort of broad way, thinking about the victim and sending my thoughts to make a great painting for this person who we don’t know their name yet, even, so there’s a bit of a solemness to it,” said Washington.

Washington’s goal is to make a “beautiful painting of a location that has a tragic history to it.” The Adirondack Experience will have the option to buy the piece and add it to its collection, putting more of the Adirondack’s history on display.

[mollyannice]

My DC/Marvel crossover ship is Jason Todd/Red Hood and Doreen Green/Squirrel Girl. Because imagine the headaches given to the others Bats if Jason is dating a girl that has the ability to control a squirrel army and has never lost a fight. Also Jason having a girlfriend that has a Squirrel Army and never lost a fight tickles me silly.

[anumanangmeron]

Balut to Barbecue: Philippine Streetfood by Doreen Fernandez

Balut to Barbecue: Philippine Streetfood by Doreen Fernandez

Street food in the Philippines is not only a convenience for those without time to cook, or an economic phenomenon that flourishes during hard times. It is a lifestyle. Nineteenth century prints, paintings and accounts of the Spanish era by foreign travellers, pay notice to the wayside vendors of carabao's milk, ricecakes, and fruits. Karuth (1858) painted a woman steaming puto bumbong right on the road, and her customer eating the product on a low table in front of her. Chinese vendors are shown selling and serving noodles at roadside, or carrying their pastries and pan de sal in baskets balanced on a shoulder pole, or on a horse.

The vending continued into the American colonial period, and into the era called "peacetime" -  before World War II -  when in the districts of Manila, one could find meals and snacks on the sidewalk: puto and bibingka just cooked; Chinese bicho-bicho, gur­ gurya, and buchi a-frying; Japanese halo-h41o or mongo con hielo mixed to order. During the Japanese occupation economic stress brought out such imaginative solutions to privation as "castanyogH

- a piece of coconut meat roasted on live charcoal, aspiring to the flavor and texture of chestnuts (castafias) - and binatog - com kernels boiled till puffed, eaten with grated coconut - both sold on the street.

Today in the 90s, the abundance and variety are so vast that I can luxuriously limit my field, and choose to discuss only food sold on streets, at roadsides, in the open, and meant to be eaten on the spot (not to take home, although one could); and only that sold by vendors without fixed stalls or stores. Even though some wheel-less street food stalls have the customers' benches or stools right on the street, with their backs. fanned (and dusted) by the

Fooo NO FLAYORS

passing traffic, these are not included, since they have fixed (albeit nµnshackle) structures, and might be said to be a step toward the permanent eating place. For this exploration, ambulance, imperma­ nence, and transience are primary criteria.

Since food types and selling times intersect and overlap, let us examine Philippine street food of the 90s from the points of view of place and manner of vending.

--Walking" Street Food. The direct heirs of the Cllinese ven­ dors whocarried paired baskets balanced on shoulder poles are those who sell green mangoes as a snack. They travel the quieter roads, those without too much traffic, and will occasionally rest their baskets, sit on a curb or outside a building (like the U.P.

Shopping Center), and peel the mangoes like flowers, then slip them into plastic bags (with salt or bagoong) for the customer. In traffic, of course, they use single baskets, with the mangoes already

peeled and.packaged.

Sharing the busier thoroughfares and dodging traffic with them are the sellers. of other fruit (santol, mangosteen, lanzones, boiled bananas) and peanuts. The peanut vendors have progressed from pre-packaged nuts (in brown paper, in plastic) to tubfuls kept hot (fire beneath) on wheels. Even in a traffic jam, even between traffic light changes, they measure, package, receive payment for, and make change for hot boiled peanuts in the shell.

Also in this category is the taho vendor, who plies quiet residential areas. He gets his soy bean curd from a factory, slices

it and adds syrup and flavoring, and carries this from house to house in aluminum containers, spooning it into the customers' bowls. Since he usually plies the same neighborhood for years, his regular <:ustomers (suki)becomefriends, as do their children, whom he can watch growing up into customers.

A recent escalation of this type is the vendoron a bicycle. One parked at thedomestic airport hashot peanuts in the shell as a main product, and beside it peeled green mangoes skewered on sticks, and kept fresh in jars of water, with the bagoong-to-go ready in

plastic jars. The most recent development is the bicycle equipped with a compartmented,glass-fronted,showcase with 18-24 fruits or nuts preserved Chinese-style. The bicycle man weaves through the streets of Manila and Tadoban, then parks at a school or streetcomer and unfurls its built-in umbrella.

BAWT TO Wlll!CU£: l'HU'PINE mr£TFOOO

The Si gVendon. Outside homes in residential areas some­ times sit solitary vendors - housewives, household help, or dill­ dren - offering baskets or trays of home products: rice cakes, skewered syrup-<:aated bananas or sweet potatoes (banana-cue; amwte-cue), even chicken or pork barbecue browningonsmall char­ coal grills, and halo-halo makings. These are by-products of the household, and are offered to neighbors, passersby, dilldren com­ ing home from school. Sales are not actively pressed, since what­ ever is left over can be <:<>mumed by the household.

In residential areas farther from urban activity, especially those in the provinces (e.g. Davao City), these tables may hold one or two covered pots (caldera) and thus be mini-carindtriasor restau­ rants. 'The carinderia is usually found in markets and at bus or jeepney stops, and is marked by a row of calderas (two to twelve or more). 'The customer peers into the pots, chooses, and is served; he sits at and eats on the area beside the pots. 'The mini-carinderias sell home cooking, the day's menu, or the housewife's specialties, and thus earn enough to subsidize the household food bill.

Alsositting, but more active, and sometimes actually hawking their wares, are the women who sit outside moviehouses beside baskets of peanuts (boiled in the shell; fried with garlic), com-nips (kernels fried with garlic and/or chili), green mangoes sometimes on skewers, fruits in season. Still others set up tables on sidewalks outside stores, restaurants, drugstores, etc. and offer sunum, fruits, barbecue, btuut.

Market and Ouarcbyard Food. Although markets have food stalls inside and on the periphery, with the sellers and buyers as their customers, there is as well a proliferation of food in the streets surrounding -  in carts,on tables, in baskets and boxes, aluminum and plastic cans and basins. F.arly in the morning, these are usually filled with breakfast food: hot cakes and fritters fryingon hot plates or in woks on wheeled carts; doughnuts, rolls, bread, cakes;sur,uan, bibingka, kutsinta, puto,ta'1ulles - rice cakes of many persuasions -

and other less common regional specialties like lnulbod kabug (millet cakes), ube cakes, and puto maya, sweetened rice cooked with co­ conut milk and spooned out of the basket, wrapped in banana leaf

for each customer.

'The churchyard before and after Sunday masses, or on days

when there are special devotions, is also crowded with vendors,

Fooo AM> FLAVORS

although in Jess variety than in the markets. A large part of the Chrisbnas expectation and nostalgia is based on the fragrant steam­ ing bibingka and hot salabot (ginger tea) awaiting those who attend the dawn masses. Churchyards and markets are the places in which to find provincial delicacies remembered, those no longer

made in one's own or in modem kitchens, or requiring ingredients

and methods now foWld only in the provinces.

The market foods progress with the day,since breakfast goods (including coffee, tea or chocolate) are replaced by snacks (fruits, fritters, crackling, pizza, peanuts, ice cream, cold drinks, etc.), then lunchtime fare (noodles, porridge/gruel,fish and meat dishes with and without broth), and more snacks until the market closes: The market is truly a center for food: raw and cooked, carinderia and street.

After the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo Oune 1991), rehabilitation was first measurable in the markets. 1n San Marcelino, Zambales, three weeks after, only one table was in business, offering soft drinks, biscuits and cigarettes. 1n Subic (where the U.S. Naval Base was located) the market, deep involcanic ash, had a few stalls open, and some snacks were being sold from baskets in the streets. The Olongapo Public market, on the other hand, had re­ opened and was doing business as usual in spite of the ash-mud­

died roads, with most customers wearing masks and handkerchiefs

over their noses.

It is almost impossible to enumerate all the foods one can find in markets -  to eat right there, or to take home. ft provides an inventory of the major types of Filipino fare - especially the more portable kinds. At the provincial tabu or tiangge - the tran­ sient early morning markets at which farmers and fishermen seU produce and catch, and buy household necessities, one can see the range and richness of regional and indigenous food. At the large city markets, one finds the food that has long disappeared from households (too difficult to get; too long to cook) and has never made it to restaurant menus (too "ordinary" or commonplace; too much like home cooking). All markets are indexes of both street and household cuisine.

School Street Food. Outsideevery elementary and highschool, vendors cluster, purveying food children like to buyat recess time and afterschool, pushing carts ingeniously designed for their goods.

Fooo All> FLAYOIIS

· fruits. There are even vans or kombis from which one can buy rice, soup, various lunch dishes -  all in plastic bags. This street food is not, however, eaten on the busy Makati streets, but taken up the building to one's desk.

The Transportation Center. The transportation hub, where hungry travellers come and go, is one of the prime centers for street food. At every stop bus passengers do not need to get off to get something to eat, since vendors push their baskets and wares into the windows, or get on the bus nimbly (avoiding the bus conduc­ tors who would shoo them out) to offer sweet rolls, hard-boiled eggs, packaged chips and such - and the specialties of the town. Thus one could do a survey of regional specialties from a bus window, e.g.: ensaimada at Malolos, Bulacan; puto at Bii\an, Laguna; tupig in the Docos provinces; bukayo in the Pangasinan towns; pill candies in Biko!; chicharron at Baliwag, etc., on through Luzon, the

Visayas, and Mindanao.

At the large urban centers like Cebu City, Davao City, and in Manila, Quiapo and Cubao, there is street food round the clock. At Cubao, for example, bus, jeepney, tricycle and pedestrian traffic converge and criss-cross, and a plethora of street food keeps eve­ ryone fed at any time of the day.

From about 4 to 10 p.m., the merienda and going-home crowd are the customers. Right on EDSA, a principal highway, at the Farmer's Market, where buses disgorge and load passengers, ven­ dors stand on thestreet, near rows of edibles on the sidewalk: vari• colored iced drinks faintly flavored with pineapple, coconut and strawberry; green mangoes fresh-peeled per customer, to dip in salt or bagoong; peanuts boiled or fried; whole peeled, or sliced fresh

pineapple in plastic bags; and especially balut and  barbecue, which

deserve and will be given special attention.

As one turns the comer into Aurora Boulevard, the main artery of Cubao, the barbecue stands parade and proliferate, along with fruit (apples, oranges, native fruit in season) and snack stalls. One turns a comer into a side street where buses load up, and finds large wheeled carts serving as mini-restaurants.

Couples preside over large pots of chicken or tripe porridge (arroz

caldo; goto); and three or four people sit on the bench facing, with the cart as table. Dishes are washed in pails and basins on the sidewalk.

IIAU1I' TO WIECUE: ffll!Et1'()()()

1be sellers of boiled com have baskets lined with cloth and plastic (to keep the com wann) mounted on carts, with containers for the husks, hangers for the forks with which to show the customer how good the ear is, and comparbnents for plastic bags.

Those who sell "ice-drops" (fruit-flavored popsides) and ice cream have carts with insulated wells for the popsides or the different ice cream flavors, and containers for cones and bread (for "ice cream sandwiches"). Playfu], with folk colors and designs are those that sell "dirty" ice-o-eam - so called by generations of children whose mothers told them: "Don't buy ice cream from those carts; it'sdirty" -  and whobought it anyway, because of the

· W\usual flavors (com, ubt, cheese) and the minimal prices. Less colorful, but safer and more pleasing to mothers are the "establish­ ment" ice-creams like Magnolia, made by the largest Philippine food corporation.

1be vendors of "ice-scramble" install ice-graters cranked by hand, containers for shaved ice, and for the colored syrups. 1he fishball carts have woks sitting on gas burners, stands for the fishballs on skewers, and a special compartment holding bottles of dipping sauces - with and without chili. Some have roofs, others have umbrellas. 'The vendors fry, or skewer-and-fry as one orders, and one dips into the sawsauMln while standing aroW\d, or before

walking away. Although many vendors make their own goods (ricecakes, ice cream), the fishballsare madewholesale in Chinatown

or in markets (with shark meat, it is rumored), and the vendor's creativity is limited to the creation of his sawsawan.

Food at Office, Factory and Con.atruction Sites. As soon as ground is broken for a building, food vendors appear. Someset up semi-permanent stalls that serve meals to workers Wltil the con­ struction is completed. Others appear at meal and snack times, as they do at break and going-home times at factories.

A special variant of street food has appeared in urban Makati. 'The office buildings that face Ayala Avenue, the prime location, constitute what has been called Manila's Wall Street. 'lbeir glass, steel and concrete facades remind one of any big city in the world. Behind many of them, however, at lunchtime, gather food vendors

- motorized this time. There are jeepneys or small vans, from the back of which one can buy sandwiches, Chinese dumplings (sionuii), steamed filled Chinese bread (siopaol, noodles, cookies,

8Al.l1T TO IIAAIIEOJE: MJl'l'IE STllfETFOOO

There used to be as well pushcart restaurants that would roll up, and unload on the sidewalk tables, benches, plates, giis stove, washing paraphernalia, and small display stand for noodles, adobo, fried fish, rice, and other dishes. For a few hours they would be sidewalk restaurants, then would load up and roll away into the night. Although the practice has passed in Cubao, they still exist elsewhere.

Tili.s operation goes on till 10 or 11, at which time "dining" ends, and the carts are supposed to be wheeled home. Actually, they are pushed a block or two away, where they "park" away from the eyes of the police, to return the next day. These carts

have permits from City Hall, or, in the provinces, what are called "tickets," signifying payment made to ma.rket, barangay, or police authorities, but they are often harassed for bribe money (as all vendorsare). Regulations require that they have wheels, to indicate· that they are not to stay, but some do stay, some make only token

moves, and others have stayed on so long that their wheels have rotted and are no longer usable.

From 10 or 11 to 4 a.m. omes the midnight shift, and from 4 to about 11 the breakfast shift - other carts, serving perhaps porridge, but also boiled eggs, perhaps fried soy bean curd, coffee, sometimes noodles. "We have to have wheels; we have to leave to give way to others," said a vendor. ''We also get harassed by the police, even taken to City Hall. But we pay up and return; this is the only way we know to earn a living."

The daytime shift sells mostly snacks; at 4 the heavy selling begins all over again.

Barbecue. Skewered chicken and pork barbecue are a special feature of the afternoon-to-eveningshifts. In the 1950sonly chicken legs, thighs and breasts, and pork chunks used to be barbecued. In the economic crisis of the 70s, however, almost every part of the pig and chicken came to be used: pigs' ears and intestines; chicken wings, necks, feet, heads, tails, combs, even intestines, meticulously cleaned and looped on thin skewers.

These came to have "pop" names spontaneously given by buyers and sellers, which journalists and their readers (especially those who never ate in the streets) found intensely amusing: Adidas (the shoe brand) for chicken feet; PAL (Philippine Air Lines) for wings; Walkman (the audiocassette recorder with earphones) for

Fooo Altl FLAvORs

pigs' ears; helmet for cocks' combs; IUD for the chicken intestines (because that is what they looked like).

The stands in rows, each with piles of ready, half-cooked, skewered parts, a grill with live coal on which to roast them when purchased, and a row of bottles of dipping sauces (sour, sweet­ sour, hot), are each manned (or womanned) by one person who cooks (heats and browns), fans the coals to keep them alive, sells, and makes change - all in a haze of smoke that wafts the flavors along the street and entices customers. This community, barbecue country indeed, is echoed in miniature on smaller streets, in res­ idential areas, alongside markets, etc.

The Balut Vendor. This deserves a separate category, al­ though balut is sold all the time and everywhere - on streets, at stalls, outside movie houses, outside nightclubs and discos, in markets; by vendors walking, sitting, or squatting; at midnight and early dawn, at breakfast, lunch, merienda and dinner time. My first introduction to thesoundsof Manila as a student, wasbeingwakened by the early morning vendor calling "Baluu-u-u-ut" along MayhaHgue Street in Sta. Cruz.

Balut is a fertilized duck's egg, boiled, and eaten by cracking the wide end, making a hole, sprinkHng in a little salt, sipping the broth, and then cracking the whole open to savor the red yolk and the tiny chick inside. The perfect balut, to the Filipino, is 17 days old, at which stage the chick is still wrapped in white (balut sa puti), and does not show beak or feathers (Vietnamese and Chinese like their balut older, the chick larger). A Pateros balut-maker explains that the best specimens are sold to his special customers, who become coMoisseurs and will have nothing older or younger than perfection. (In the U.S. it is usually sold at 16 days, so as to be less threatening to those unused to this cultural experience.) Older specimens (the balut continue to grow until boiled) are sold to ambulant night-time vendors, whose customers are not so partic­ ular or steady, and the 19-day holdovers (chicks almost ready to hatch) are sold only by bus terminal vendors, who will never see their customers again, will not hear recriminations, or form friend­ ships with them.

Balut ls popularly believed to be an aphrodisiac, or at least to have invigorating powers, and so is sold even in the late eve­ nings and early mornings. It is always carried around in padded

8AU1T TO 8ARBECll£: flHU'l'INE sntfETFOOO

baskets, so that the eggs are kept wa.rm, and the seller supplies as well rock salt in little twists of paper, and chili-flavored vinegar, if desired.

Some years back one vendor in Cubao started to sell fried balut. 1hese were cracked eggs, which couldn't be sold as balut, since the broth had seeped out. She peeled them, rolled them in flour, fried them in her cart, and served them in bowls with a little salt, vinegar and chili. Now the fried balut or penoy (the unfertilized egg) are the current fad: rolled in orange-colored batter, fried, and sold all over Cubao; eaten from the little bowls, while standing up and fine-tuning the flavor to one's taste by adding condiments.

Somewhat related to balut is the day-old chick. Poultries only keep female chicks to grow into fryers; male chicks used to be dumped into the sea -  until someone fried them whole, into what is sometimes called "super-chicks" or "Day-0." 'These too are sold in streets and carts -  and at beer places, as pulutan.

Balut is, as poet Tom Agulto says, deeply imbedded in Phil­ ippine food culture. It is practical, inexpensive, nutritious, and available in all seasons. Prices change only slightly according to place and time. "One can call it," he believes, "the national street food of the Philippines."

Reasons for Street Food. It obviously fills a need. ln a coun­ try where the restaurant tradition is young, and the economic conditions are poor, publiceating isdone on thestreets. Street food is for workers or passersby who cannot afford restaurants, or to go home to eat. It is for the traveller, the wanderer, the worker who keeps odd hoursor hasno food waiting at home; for schoolchildren who haveonly 15-minute class breaks; for the husband or wife who does not want to go home empty-handed, or has no time to create home-cooked meals.

The Economic Factor. Of the factors that make street food a lifestyle in the Philippines, the most visible one is economic. A street food operation is a small, fast, cash operation. A rice-cake seller in Hagonoy, Bulacan, for example, invests P250-P300 in the materials for a day's sale, and makes it all back by the afternoon, with about PlOO profit, and with the family fed with some of his/ her wares. A two-caldero carinderia in front of a Davao home

BAUIT TO BARBf<llE: PHIJl'PIE Sf1IEl'OOO

basic agricultural and riverine communities in which Philippine culture developed, there was a dependence among members of a community - for the plowing and planting of fields, for the mend­ ing or setting of nets, for harvesting and winnowing. The family groupings became communities; the communities felt lilce families. The homes extended to the streets, where couJd be found the space in which to sit and chat with neighbors, to play games, to dry pallly, to mend fishnets, to work on pots and baskets, to eat and celebrate. At some fiestas even today, tables are set up in the streets for everyone. Celebrations in small houses without backyards, extend frontward, to the street Urban congestion and traffic may have eliminated this in cities, but the spirit often remains, and there is a congeniality among the vendors and consumers of street food that suggests rootedness in earlier times.

The process of producing and selling food seems to have begun in the tabu, the transient, evanescent early morning market on streets and at crossings, to which one brought what one grew, caught, made, or cooked. The sellers were all ambulant, without permanent stalls, and brought their goods in baskets and pots, on foot or in carts or on horseback. Chinese traders brought their "imported" goods, or their cooking, which rapidly became indigenized. This seems to be where street food began - and continued (and continues, in the provinces), thus filling the spaces consecrated by the culture as communal.

Street food in the Philippines is thus not only a convenience for busy working people with no time to cook, or an economic phenomenon for hard times in a developing country. It is also and especially a communal gathering rooted in a sense of the street as communal space, in an understanding of meals as movable in time, as flexible feasts that make their own spaces and shape their own meanings - in home or village or street.

Fooo AIC> FLAVORS

supplies the day's meals for the family, enough cash profit for the next day's capital, and a little extra.

No credit is needed; no credit is given. Manpower needs are minimal and family-contained; the only skills required are those of cooking and selling (although the designing and building of carts demonstrates considerable skill and flair), and these are acquired without formal education. It is a day-to-day, cash-to-cash, person­ to-person, small enterprise suitable for developing countries like the Philippines, in which a large portion of the population is below the poverty line, and constitutes the potential sellers and buyers of street food.

The Cultural Factors. One cultural factor operating in the street food phenomenon is the Filipino idea of a meal. The Filipino meal is named according to the time of the day in which it is taken: agahan for umaga,morning; tanghalian for tanghali, noontime; hapunan for hap<m, afternoon/evening. Each meal has considerable leeway of time, and also of space - home, in which there was no special room for dining; field or forest, to which one carried food -  and of character. (Adobo or pancit are breakfast, lunch, dinner, and meriemla food; few dishes are bound to particular meals.)

This makes food out in the open, in the market or street or field, not unusual or strange, not at odds with the meal indoors or at home. And if the home meal can be extended to the street, so certainly can the restaurant meal. (One of the more popular restau­ rants for taxi drivers in Quezon City is under a tree, from which hang bunches of bananas for dessert.) Most Filipinos are therefore quite comfortable with street food - except perhaps those who have been brought up with strict Western ideas about propriety of place and strictness of sanitation.

There is, of course, a concept of meals as stopping points, as landmarks of the day. Major meals are necessary to ease or to prevent hunger, but between them one may eat to "tide over" hunger: pantawid gutom, literally to "cross over" between hungers, to bridge them. The snacks on the street fill this function, and perhaps that is why they are not considered "serious" meals and are given "unserious" names like Adidas, helmet and Walkman.

The Filipino idea of community may also explain why meals outdoors, in the streets, among strangers, are comfortable.  In the

[incorrectfandomsquotes]

Gwen: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Kamala: >:O LAnguage!

Doreen: yeah watch your fucking language

Daisy: OKAY WHO TAUGHT DOREEN THE FUCK WORD?

Riri: ‘The fuck word’

Rayshaun: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time.

Doreen: oh my god he censored it

Dante: Say fuck, Rayshaun.

Doreen: do it Rayshaun. say fuck

[mabelsguidetolife]

a cursed thought: an edgy squirrel girl tv show on the cw

it’d be like

doreen: [moody sigh with her eyes closed] i have...... ABILITIES [she opens her eyes which are glowing green for no real reason and a swarm of demon squirrels comes and literally tears her enemies apart into a billion pieces with their teeth and claws]

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

must i have a “reason”? is it not enough for me to simply want a Marvel A League of Their Own AU with Kate Bishop, America Chavez, Cassie Lang, Kamala Khan, Doreen Green, Gwen Stacey, MJ, and Shuri, who most certainly would be in Wakanda but I want to see her play baseball? Is it not enough to simply want to see them playing baseball with period hairstyles? With Tony or Fury as the slightly disgraced former ball player who is their manager? And obviously with the addition of several wlw subplots? Is that not enough????

[kc-meets-dc]

With free reign, which Marvel characters would you want on a YJ-like team?

(I'm going to assume you mean Marvel Comics characters, not characters in the Captain Marvel/Shazam family)

Spider-Man seems like an obvious choice, but I would also definitely say Squirrel Girl just because Doreen Green makes literally everything better. Plus the girl beat Thanos with nothing but squirrels. Imagine what she could do to Vandal Savage

[ophelia-avalon]

Book review: The Green Witch by Arin Murphy-Hiscock

Went to a bookshop for the first time in ages recently and spotted The Green Witch (in the German translation). After having seen pictures all over social media I decided to check it out. Here are some of my thoughts.

I would say it is a mixed bag: The Green Witch works well as a practical guide. But it does not have the depth of a comprehensive introduction to witchcraft.

You’ll find:

How to build a nature-based witchcraft practice

How to work with nature as an urban witch

Energy work exercises: how to connect to nature, the elements and specific plants

Tips on how to incorporate magic into gardening, cooking and crafting, with spells, recipes and herbal remedies

Correspondences for crystals, trees, flowers, fruits and herbs

The spells in this book are all very generic: for harmony, health, love, luck, peace, prosperity and protection. There is nothing wrong with that but if you are looking for a book that teaches you how to craft more specific spells, you might be disappointed.

Similarly, Murphy-Hiscock’s green witchcraft is very modern – ‘Wicca lite’ you might say. Leaving out the obvious religious bits about the God and Goddess but otherwise very close to the works of Wiccan authors like Doreen Valiente or Scott Cunningham (which Murphy-Hiscock both cites as sources, among others).

I found this a bit weird, considering that Murphy-Hiscock spends a huge chunk of the introduction explaining that green witchcraft and Wicca are not synonymous. Don’t get me wrong: I like her emphasis on witchcraft as a practice that can be paired with almost any religious belief – but was a bit disappointed how very apparent the Wiccan influence was in the rest of the book. So if you want to learn more about specific folk magic practices, this might not be the book you are looking for.

There was also the questionable tip of washing your crystals to cleanse them (without a note that some might dissolve in water) and no guidance on how to actually use the essential oil mixtures topically (diluted in a carrier oil).

Another thing that squicked me while reading: The suggestion to imagine nature’s energy as a green fog, which reminded me a lot of cartoon villains and their odorous concoctions :D

Apart from that, however, I think it was a good read. As you can see from the picture, I marked quite a few passages with things I want to incorporate in my grimoire or exercises that I want to try once I have a bit more time.

[dumb-hat]

Character Sheet - Evander Winsome

—————- Link to blank template!

Rules: Things in brackets are meant only as guidelines, to be erased and your answers written in place of. Things separated by | are for bolding and italicising.

Tagged by: No one! I saw this reblogged by @mooglemeet​, so I went ahead and grabbed it directly from @bluespiritfire​. Link to the blank template is up above! Tagging: No one specific/anyone who wants to. Feel free to tag me back so I can see it!

Name: Evander Winsome Age: 26 Pronouns: He/him Birthdate: 12th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

~~PLACE OF ORIGIN~~ Race: Hyur From the First: Interracial heritage:

Hometown/city: Limsa Lominsa Current residence/popular haunt:Ul’dah

~~APPEARANCE~~

Eyes: brown | blue | green | gold | red | purple | multicoloured | other (amber) Hair: brunette | black | blonde | red (ginger or crimson?) | grey/white (aged or natural?) | multicoloured | none | other (…) Hair type: straight | curly | ringlets | wavy | wiry | frizzy | voluminous | thin | other (unruly) Hair style: A shaggy mop deeply in need of a trim, permanent hat hair. (It’s Aymeric hair. I can’t imagine he’ll ever wear the outfit, but the hair was worth it!) Body type: beefy | curvaceous | fat | lean | muscular | petite | skinny | stocky | other (…) Height: short | tall | specific measurement (5′9) Skin: ashen | caucasian | dark | fair | freckled | olive | tanned | other Facial features: birthmark | beard (stubble) | face paint | fur | scales | scars | tattoos | other (…) Body features: birthmark | beard | ears (anything unique about them) | face paint | fur | missing limb/s | scales | scars | tail | tattoos | other (…)

Favourite/commonly used clothes:

~~SKILLS~~ DoL/DoH Botanist | Fisher | Miner | Alchemist | Armorer | Blacksmith | Carpenter | Culinarian | Goldsmith | Leatherworker | Weaver fun | profit | self-sustainability

~~COMBAT~~ Main discipline Gladiator/Paladin | Marauder/Warrior | Dark Knight | Gunbreaker | Astrologian | Conjurer/White Mage | Arcanist/Scholar/Summoner | Thaumaturge/Black Mage | Blue Mage | Red Mage | Pugilist/Monk | Lancer/Dragoon | Rogue/Ninja | Samurai | Archer/Bard | Machinist | Dancer

Secondary/Tertiary/Extra Classes Gladiator/Paladin | Marauder/Warrior | Dark Knight | Gunbreaker | Astrologian | Conjurer/White Mage | Arcanist/Scholar/Summoner | Thaumaturge/Black Mage | Blue Mage | Red Mage | Pugilist/Monk | Lancer/Dragoon | Rogue/Ninja | Samurai | Archer/Bard | Machinist | Dancer

Fighting style aggressive | cautious | hard-and-fast | tactical | defensive | protective | all out | wait-and-see | charge in headlong | reckless | self-sacrificing | party-oriented | loner |

Any difficulties with magical/physical disciplines? Nothing in particular

~~PERSONALITY TRAITS~~ abrasive | abusive | accepting | aggressive | analytical | anxious | arrogant | assertive | brave | bossy | calm | caring | cautious | cheerful | chronic liar | confident | controlling | cowardly | creative/inventive | cunning | curious | determined | disinterested | envious | fearless | frosty | frugal | generous | greedy | gullible | honest | humorous | impatient | impulsive | indifferent | insecure | intelligent | irresponsible | jealous | just | kind | loyal | lustful | manipulative | materialistic | meek | modest | money-driven | naïve | narcissistic | oblivious | overbearing | patient | passive | perceptive | possessive | prickly | quiet | relaxed | religious | sarcastic | secretive | self-assured | self-conscious | self-deprecating | selfish | selfless | spiritual | strict | stubborn | tired | thoughtful | unpredictable | virtuous | vocal | wary | wise | other

~~LIKES~~ Environment: forest | city streets | markets | the beach | open sea/on the water | mountains | jungle | battlefield | being at home | surrounded by books | other (…) Weather: wind | snow | rain | sunshine | storms | cloudy days Flavors: sweet | salty | sour | bitter | spicy | tart | gamey | spiced | fruity | nutty | leafy greens | other Textures: silk | velvet | cotton | metal | leather | water | spongy | dry granules (sand, sugar, etc) | other (…) Favorite Dish: Dzo steak & popotoes (small, seasoned and baked ones are best, but he won’t turn away mashed or fried) Favorite Color: Whites, browns, grays Favorite Sound: Soft, quiet breaths; glasses tinking together, machinery clicking into place Favorite Smell: Juniper, jasmine, iris; citrus and sandalwood, hard liquor Favorite Place: Anywhere he can find a good drink and great company Favorite Holiday: the Moonfire Faire Other: Evander likes free-spirited people, people who know how to relax, people who aren’t afraid to call him out on his shit, but also aren’t too eager to do so

~~DISLIKES~~ Environment: forest | city streets | markets | the beach | open sea/on the water | mountains | jungle | battlefield | being at home | surrounded by books | other (…) Weather: wind | snow | rain | sunshine | storms | cloudy days Flavors: sweet | salty | sour | bitter | spicy | tart | gamey | spiced | fruity | nutty | leafy greens | other Textures: silk | velvet | cotton | metal | leather | water | spongy | dry granules (sand, sugar, etc) | other (sticky) Least Favorite Dish: Emerald soup, lutefisk. In general, he shies away from things that are really bitter or cloyingly sweet. Least Favorite Color: Really, really, really bright greens, yellows and pinks. Think neon.  Least Favorite Sound: Pained screams, metal grinding against metal Least Favorite Smell: Blood, rot, vomit Least Favorite Place: Jail Least Favorite Holiday: Starlight Other: He has a general disdain for nobility, law enforcement and people who take everything too seriously.

~~HOBBIES~~ art (what medium/s?) | adventuring | cooking | fighting/sparring | finance | gardening | golden saucer attractions (Lord of Verminion, chocobo racing, Doman mahjong, triple triad) | hiking | hunting (game or hunt marks) | lacks hobbies | music | physical sports | reading (almost anything he can get his hands on, though he regards romance novels as a kind of quiet, not-quite-guilty pleasure) | running | scrapbooking | sewing/knitting/other needlework | sightseeing | socializing | swimming | training | writing | other (…)

~~RELATIONSHIPS~~ Parents/Legal Guardian/Parental Figure: mother | father | aunt and/or uncle | grandparents | adoptive | foster | mentor | family friend/godparents | other Siblings: One older brother; deceased Children: None that he knows of Romantic: single | unrequited | crushing | dating | engaged | married | divorced/separated | widow/widower | recently split | it’s complicated (I mean, not to him. To him, it makes total sense. Well, most of it does.) | other (…) Friends: Evander tends to befriend and trust people fairly easily, though it can take him a bit to really open up. Once you’ve hit that point, you’ve likely got a friend for life. Rivals/Enemies: To the best of his knowledge, he’s left these all behind somewhere or other, thanks largely to his restless need to wander. That said, there’s surely a few lurking in the past and there’s always room for more, of course!

Any special gestures of affection they have with people in their life? He’ll often make complaining noises about paying for drinks and dinner, but he’ll do it every time and would be slightly hurt if people didn’t let him.

~~HAVE DEALT WITH/IS DEALING WITH~~ abuse (ongoing or recovering, verbal or physical) | acceptance | a new relationship (unlikely friendship, step-sibling/parent, etc) | a new romance | betrayal | broken heart | budgeting | bullying | caution | confidence | crisis of faith | depression | grief | health issues | how to trust | learning from a mistake (as in “doesn’t enough) | loss | love | new people | new place | opening up to someone/others | parenthood | physical changes (loss of a limb or other sense, inability to do things previously able to) | politics | PTSD | poverty | racism | reconciling previously held beliefs | responsibility | sacrifice (self or of another) | self-acceptance | self-esteem | to value myself | to value others | trauma (medical, mental, emotional) | war | wealth | other (…)

How are they dealing with the most prominent of the above? How does it affect their in day-to-day life, if at all? Poorly, typically.

~~ODDS AND ENDS~~ Notable Weapons He doesn’t have any particular bond with any of his weapons, really. He sees them as tools, and ones that he uses only reluctantly. He sometimes enjoys tinkering with the ones he builds, but that’s more of a hobby than anything. 

Notable Mounts He has various vehicles and machines he likes to fuss over and drive around, but he’s particularly fond of his SDS Fenrir.

In addition to his chocobo—a particularly stubborn beast named Doreen—he’s also fond of his battlesheep, Doctor One and a colossal crab he’s dubbed St. Barnabus.

Notable Minion/s Besides Doctor One and St. Barnabas, Evander is especially fond of various clockworks, automata, wind-ups and models that he’s put together. His favorite is a drone modeled after a Magitek bit that he’s named Valencia.

Keepsakes/Mementos

A pendant in the shape of a swan, a few too many flasks

Chronic Illnesses or Disabilities Evander lives with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. I’ve written about it a few places, most notably at length here and in brief here. How do they deal with these? Depends on the day, really. This isn’t really a thing he has a name for, so it’s not a thing he can easily address. He’s got a sloppily slapped together set coping mechanisms that work about half the time, if he’s lucky. Other than that, he mostly hopes for good days full of things he can convince himself he’s interested in.

Education Level He likes it when people underestimate him, so he’s not always quick to admit to the formal Ishgardian education afforded to him by the family that took him in when he left Limsa Lominsa. He’ll often try to pass it off as eclectic, self-driven studies... Which, admittedly, also played a big part in shaping him. 

Habits There’s a lot of excess in his life. He drinks too much. He eats too much. He stays up too late, too long, and then sleeps too late, too long. He’s almost always got a flask or four on his person, and he often finds that he’s picking up the dinner or drink tab wherever he goes. 

Other Nothing immediately springs to mind, but I’m sure there’s like a dozen things I should put here. This thing has been sitting in my drafts for god-knows-how-long, so I’m just glad to finally get it out there. 

[bibiamor]

Angel help for addictions:

If you crave sugary, high-fat, or processed foods, or if you're dependent upon alcohol, caffeine, nicotine, or other drugs, the angels can help you in a hurry. It's easy to give up these substances if you don't crave them.

The Archangel Raphael (the angel of physical healing) showed me a new method to release addictions and conquer cravings. He asked me to share the method with you in this newsletter. Please pass it along to others:

In a seated position, think about any addictive behaviors or situations that you'd like to release. Be sure that you really want to release them, because this method is very powerful. After you do the method, you'll either quit cold-turkey, or you'll have one last binge that will result in your quitting.

Next, imagine that the addictive items or situations are sitting on your lap. Then, see or feel them floating about one foot in front of your belly. Notice the web of cords extending from your belly to the addictive items. The cords look like roots of a tree. Mentally ask Archangel Raphael to cut those cords completely. As the cords are cut, notice the items fall away easily from you. Afterward, Raphael will surround your belly with emerald green light to heal any old wounds completely.

- Doreen virtue