#YearChangers

[gesslen]

Taylor Swift, de 👑💄💃 koningin van de pop en de hertogin van Sass, zei ooit: "Ik denk dat het kleinste kleine ding de 🚩✊ loop van je dag kan veranderen, wat de loop van je jaar kan veranderen, wat 🍻🤝🥃 kan veranderen ❤️‍🩹 verander wie je bent." En laat me je vertellen: als iemand weet hoe kleine dingen een aanzienlijke 🎤🔥💔 impact hebben, dan is het Taylor wel. Ze kan een liedje schrijven over een breuk, en plotseling voelt elke diepbedroefde 😔😭😥ziel op deze planeet zich begrepen. Maar laten we het hebben over haar verborgen talent, het spelen van de 🎷🎶♣️ saxofoon. Stel je dit eens voor: Taylor Swift, midden in haar wereldwijde concertextravaganza, stapt het 🎶👩‍🎤🪇🎸-podium op met een saxofoon over haar schouder als een rockster. Het 🎤😃😆👏-publiek gaat uit zijn dak! Mensen zullen tranen huilen van vreugde, dansen alsof niemand kijkt, en mogelijk 🤒💊🌡️ flauwvallen van de pure geweldigheid van dit alles. Dus let op mijn woorden: op een dag zal Taylor Swift 😘🥰😍 ons allemaal wegblazen met haar saxofoonvaardigheden, en de 🗺💃🏼🕺🏽 wereld zal nooit meer hetzelfde zijn.

[darkhorse-javert]

On the Edge (of the Knife of War)

A character exploration (as much as it's anything) of Wing Commander Turner regarding Andrew pre and during the episode 'Enemy Fire'. Some lines quoted directly from the episode

@flashfictionfridayofficial (a teeeeny 126 words over limit)

He sees it, the Shadow, creeping at the young man as the winter rolls past the yearchange, into the darkest, cold months of the new. The tense hunch of the shoulders as the young man sits in the mess, not simply drawn up against the weather as it might seem. A sharper edge to the tongue, or no jest at all. I should pull him from the main  flow, get him to a quieter station. But he can't. They might have won the battle, last autumn, but there's still the war, the Rhubarbs and Circuses taking their toll on the numbers. There's no one of Foyle's experience to take the place, and only a few of the younger ones really offering to match his calibre of flying - when they get there.  He uses them; Woods, Beckett, puts them with Foyle, to watch his back on the quiet, as much as to learn from him. 

But then there are the calls, the desperate need for the Photographs, and that's a special kind of flying, which for the moment, only Foyle can manage, tight, low, weaponless by virtue of the plane. And so Foyle has to go. It shows, all of it, the weight in his eyes, paleness in the face, marks under the eyes, that the night watch  report an unsettled pilot slipping out of the bunks, that even when he stays inside he’s tossing and turning (reported by his bat-man, and a nervous Beckett).

He tries to pull Foyle back off the immediate flights when he can, searches and asks for a transfer. And then it all blows up. Foyle snapping and snarling with one of the fitters. Drake, he knows by the rumour mill, is a tricky one; oily, slippery really, and Foyle's comments over poor maintenance are quite probably well founded, but the pilor has to say within order- hold cohesion. So he dresses him down 

Foyle is the colour-flag of the Squadron, But, Turner thinks, I shouldn't have said that last bit aloud, about not letting them down. That’s too high a bar. The shadow is well on Foyle’s back now, his well-meaning hot headedness turned and twisted by it. 

He sends him off, and finds himself looking at the empty space left by the young man, too young maybe, too young and too old at once. What war does to all of us. Pray God he'd drink hard and that will unwind him long enough to actully sleep and slep and recoup wht he' burning, at least a little. Fifteen ops in a week- too many.

Foyle comes back a little better, but the call comes again, a photo mission needing low and slow photography. He looks at Foyle, sitting resigned more than enthusiastic across the desk it would be murder to send him, nothing but murder. So he name Woods, Foyle protests.

 One Man, One Plane that’s how it always has been. The planes aren't carbon copies, each has their own foibles a pilot needs to learn - to know the plane as well as his own body. But he can’t send Foyle, and Wood’s photo-Spit is indeed in dock.

“He can take yours.” Just like that the rule is broken.

And Foyle just accepts it.

He watches discreetly from a distance as Foyle sends Woods off that night, a pat on the shoulder and a long watch at the sky as the Spit takes off. He couldn’t fly it, you did the right thing 

Then Greville comes back aflame and Andrew disappears.  He gives the lad time, he is only a young man after all, more shaken than any of them, perhaps save himself. I heard the argument, I knew that Spit was dicky too. He waits the hours of absence out and doesn’t comment, pretends he doesn’t notice. It goes overnight and he has to notice or else be in trouble himself. Family… if in trouble, Foyle would go to his family. He presents himself at the police station, feeling a pang for the fear his presence provokes, fear of death come to the door. It sickens him deep inside.

He lays out the situation in bare bones; Andrew AWOL. The fear is gone, and caution takes it’s place in the policeman's face,  “So you can do what, exactly?”

He can only incline his head in respect.  If this man is helping his son he’s not going to give it up easily. Here is one who will, Turner realises, fight until the last for his son. And Law or no Law, it would be a cold hearted man who would not give Andrew shelter at this juncture, in his condition- Turner thinks, the memory of the wan face crossing his vision - and this man is not cold.

He explains, and spots a hint of curiosity, perhaps, in the enigmatic face of Foyle Senior, who listens as he personally disowns ‘Lack of Moral Fibre’.

“What do you call it?” 

"Well, I see the truth of it. These young men, we ask so much of them. It's not just the number of ops they fly and the mental strain, it's, it's lack of sleep. No wonder they get ill. Flying stress, combat fatigue…” He pauses, drops the next words in exactly the same tone, “shell shock, even.” There, he sees it, a slightest, probably unknown reaction to those words. One old fighter to another. That is what it was called in the old war he does not need to say, You know it and i know it both of us from that time - 

Would that everyone else would see it is not weakness so much as loss of strength; having been thrown into more than it is possible to bear and yet bearing it for a time. I do not blame Andrew Mr Foyle, every man has a limit no matter what courage they draw on. It is only the war’s fault for draining it, and perhaps mine for not being able to relieve him until so late. Now, only now, has the transfer request come good. And Andrew isn’t to be found.

“I can give him until two o'clock this afternoon. No longer than that.“

Andrew re-appears at the base, in escort of his father and the girl in Khaki Turner had seen at the station, with exactly five minutes to spare of his ‘unofficial leave’. He orders the young man, a Flight Lieutenant now, out to the OTU, and takes the salute he’s offered. For a moment, just a moment he breathes a sigh of relief; There goes one at least who he’s been able to claw back, who will not - not yet at least - shatter on the edge of war’s knife. And that… well that has to count for something. It Must.

A/N; I LOVE love writing Turner

[callmebliss]

Packidge!

Every year, Kythryne of @wyrdingstudios does a project for the New Year of setting intentions in jewelry. They post a link in the Magpies group on the bookenfacen so that anybody who likes to can go in and answer a poll - how many dollars do you want to spend, do have preferred colors, do you want a pendant/brooch/neckline/shawl pin/earrings etc, what intention do you want to set with the piece, and are there any things you definitely do (or don’t) want in it? And how soon?

I participate every year, a Yule slash yearchange slash birthday gift to muhself. This year’s intentional I chose is “perseverance”. Today it came!

Every time I order from them, there’s always a sweet little lagniappe. Usually it’s a pair of earrings, but this time it’s an adorably cottagecore yellow iridescent flower pendant.

They always include a little card with the item specifying the intentional word and then what stones they used and why. Garnet for courage and amethyst for grounding and calm, which sounds excellent.

The swirlssssss!!!! The balance! It’s a good thing I was sitting down.

Catches the light amazingly.

Perseverance AND some shiny that I can fidget with at work. Perfect.

[solitaryexist]

#newyear2019 #newyear #happynewyear2019 #happynewyear #december #january #newyeareve #newyearnight #newyearparty #newyearnewme #2019 #2019goals #newgoals #newyeargoals #alone #athome #nofriends #nolove #nohate #durwaish #sadness #me #people #otherpeople #tonight #badaltaylog #peoplechanged #yearchange #change #changing https://www.instagram.com/p/BsEFgEdg4GY/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=a25uv4hvqhn0