#just heard my mom talk about it and heard so many folks on here say the same about their art and idk. maybe knowing an artist who's

[dootznbootz]

My mom is already super cool but growing up as a child of an artist/art teacher, like, really shaped me as a person. No matter your skill level your creations matter and are so so important and I'm just so fucking proud of you. And I mean fucking ALL of you.

I'm not an artist myself (at least drawing-wise. I enjoy pottery and music and writing but not much for the "I'm holding some sort of stick (pen, paintbrush, digital stylus, etc. ) and making something with it haha)

But since my mom was an artist, and I just CONSTANTLY grew up around creators. It just, idk makes you APPRECIATE things you know? My mom was a wildlife artist (she's won a couple competitions, "State Trout Stamp" is one of them.) and I remember as a little girl seeing her make her prints and how LONG they took her. And even with her WINNING some and having great paintings, she'll still have the "Oh, I hate that one >:( " which ofc, there's an "artist's eye" but it kind of makes me laugh as literally no matter your skill level, EVERY creator has a "Ew." project.

Not great lighting sorry, but these are what she's made. (Yes, there's a thermometer on the buck. That's one that a lot of people like but she doesn't so much haha. the bottom middle is the one that won.)

And since she was a teacher by the time I came around (doing her prints on the side) I grew up wandering the high school halls as a little girl and watching and playing with her students who were artists themselves.

I remember seeing how LONG it took them. Some would get frustrated with a certain thing they were struggling with like hands or making sure their eyes were right. Breaking pencils or throwing away projects. Some would start to cry and then they became a "sibling" for a moment as "mom instincts" would take over my mom and she'd just sit with them. Sometimes if I happened to be playing around in the classroom and they were there after school ended (or for "Art Club") after getting frustrated they would come to play with me on the floor with those drawing manikins and other toys that were in the classroom. (My mom was essentially a "Ms. Frizzle" type of teacher and had LOTS of toys in her class room. From Barbies to potato heads as "they're good inspiration!". She's still like that and even kind of looks like Ms. Frizzle too!) A lot of these students were my FRIENDS (more like a bunch of older siblings), even as I got older. (some were even babysitters for me) and it's funny now if I run into them and now they have kids of their own.

I don't even know what I'm chattering about anymore haha. I just...I'm really proud of y'all. Doesn't matter where you're at in your "leveling up skills", I KNOW how hard you all work. I KNOW you've taken a lot of time to get where you are! I don't do it myself but I've SEEN your efforts! I think a lot of people will see art and just think "oh it's just copying what you see" especially for hyperrealistic paintings or even for stylized stuff. People see it as "easy" or if it's not "perfect" then it's "not worth it". not even BOTHERING to understand the circumstances and/or story of the artists. And every artist has their ups and downs! I mean like I said, my mom has won competitions and STILL has her "Ew >:( " paintings! Something I've seen a lot of folks on here do!

...I'm sleepy and don't know how to end this haha. Just know you're doing a great job. I'm so happy you've gifted us your creations. It's a privilege to get to see your growth in real time.

[lxkeee]

HEAVEN AND BACK!

—CHAPTER THREE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Alastor's Mom! Angel! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Romance, love at first sight.

Warnings: none.

Notes: sorry it took awhile, I got lazy lmfao. Also, I listened to caramelldansen when writing this.

CH. ONE | CH. TWO | CH. FOUR | NAV.

It has been a few days since Alastor's mother decided to stay at the hotel, the woman fits right in perfectly with the sinners in the hotel.

Almost.

The angelic woman couldn't get a chance to get to know better hell's very own King, Lucifer.

As Alastor always tries to come in between her and the man.

Is this what Adam called "Cock blocking?" She heard the man say that before and before Adam could explain it to her, Emily explained that it's something where 'You try to talk to someone but somehow there's something or someone stopping you from doing so?' that's what the girl said but did also tell her to not use that term.

How strange.

She sighs, running a hand through her [h/c] locks, careful not to accidentally scratch her own deer antlers. The woman is currently in her 'demon' form, large deer like antlers that are on top of her head, she made sure not to wear bright colors and instead chose to wear something on the darker shades of red, her wings are hidden while her halo was transformed into a golden necklace that hung around her neck.

She rests a leg on top of her other leg as she sits on one of the many cushioned chairs of the hotel, she looks down from the second floor balcony, getting a good view of the hotel's lobby.

“Pray tell, what really brings you here in hell oh dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked beside her, standing beside the seat she sat on, his hand holding his cane-like microphone, he looked at his mother with a grin, though, a confused look in his eyes. He knows his mother, he got his personality from her after all.

Like mother, like son.

[Y/n] giggled, “Overseeing this hotel's progress, isn't that an enough reason to be here?” she answers, eyes closed with a gentle smile on her face. Her eyes opened to see her son's disbelief smile.

Alastor tilted his head slightly, grin widening, “I doubt that is the reason, I was so sure that the celestial realm denied Charlie's plans so,” he says, pausing a bit as he hummed to himself as if he was thinking, “—I was rather surprised that heaven decided to change their minds.” he says with a smirk.

He knows she's hiding something.

[Y/n] can't help but let the sides of her lips twitch upwards to a slight smirk. Clever boy. She thought to herself.

With a defeated sigh, she chuckled after, “There is a reason but heaven cannot disclose that yet. That is the only thing I can tell you.” she explained before raising an eyebrow at him, “Is that an enough reason?”

Alastor tilted his head slightly, his smile widened, humming as he thought to himself, “Hmm... I supposed that is an enough reason and I should stop bothering my mother about it.” he says with a smirk.

[Y/n] playfully rolls her eyes at her son, eyes fixated down below to the lobby of the hotel, [e/c] eyes focused on a certain blond fallen angel who's currently drinking a glass of wine at the bar area.

“Enough of that, I would like to ask you why do you keep on trying to stop me from interacting with him?” She asked, head turning away from the scene below and once more looked at Alastor whose smile had slightly lowered in annoyance, a small scoff leaving past his lips.

“Do I really need to give you a reason, dear mother of mine?” Alastor asked, tilting his head, his voice sounding almost a grimace thinking about the shorter man making moves on her.

[Y/n] just raises her eyebrow at him, a small hum escaping her lips, “Please do.”

Alastor hums, dark red eyes looking down on the folks currently in the lobby, “He's a man, mother. In fact, he's the king of hell. I don't trust him.” he grumbles, the smile on his face is gone and is now replaced with a small frown.

[Y/n]'s face softened, she knows her son's disapproval in men, especially if said men have an interest in her. Her last marriage was a failure and filled with pain and Alastor was by her side through it all.

She can understand why he hesitates, why he tries to put distance between her and the men that come to her life.

"Alastor, sweetheart. Don't worry about me,” She says softly, a small gentle smile on her face. Her eyes closing and opening as she glanced at the people down below, her smile widened as she saw sinners mingled with one another.

She's glad. She's glad that there are souls who are willing to try and earn redemption.

And she's here to guide them.

Alastor looked at his mother, his usual grin now back on his face.

“Besides, the man seems nice. It must be lonely being the first fallen angel.” she says softly, she can't imagine the pain Lucifer must've dealt with. She read about him when she was in heaven, she was curious about the first fallen angel and the heavenly libraries were filled with eons and eons of information and she read everything she can about him. Sera even warned her in case she turns to heresy and Sera made sure to remind her to keep her loyalty to heaven and avoid getting influenced by him.

Alastor hums, “I suppose,” he says with a small nod before giving his mother a side eye, “Though, I don't think I'll be comfortable with the possibility of calling him...” he paused and gave a small gag, “—father.” he says with disgust.

[Y/n] chuckles, “Me? Marrying the king of hell? What an ambitious dream would that be.” she says with a small laugh, flicking her hand sassily.

“I just want to be his friend, the man seems like he hasn't formed any meaningful relationships during his life.” she says with a small giggle and Alastor had to fight back from laughing, “Indeed, he has not.” he agrees with a small chuckle.

“Don't be mean, I didn't raise you like that.” [Y/n] chuckles, elbowing her son on his side which made Alastor let a small grunt before pouting at her, “Apologies.” he says, tone clearly not genuine which [Y/n] can clearly tell.

She sighs exasperatedly.

Alastor chuckles his eyes closing before opening once more to look at his beloved mother, “Oh and another thing,” he spoke, [Y/n] looked at him a quirked eyebrow, a small hum escaping her lips, “Hmm?”

“I would like to express my gratitude in what you have down to the hotel's garden, you've brought life to this godforsaken place. I am sure these sinners haven't seen any kind of greenery ever since they have died.” Alastor grins, his eyes darkened from amusement over the misery of these loathsome sinners.

[Y/n] chuckles, though, questioning where she went wrong in raising him.

“It was nothing, I thought the hotel needed a little green that's all! All of these reds are hurting my eyes.” she says glancing at Alastor with a judgemental look in her eyes.

Alastor just rolls his eyes at her which earned him another harsh elbow to the sides.

Lucifer was admiring the lush garden of the hotel's backyard, he has never seen such greenery before—he did but it was eons ago when he was still divine, but it was eons ago and has already forgotten what it looked like—a large willow tree at the side just by the door to the hotel, the once dried up fountain at the center is now back and running, multiple plants surrounded the area and grass, good heavens, he doesn't remember when was the last time he touched grass.

He doesn't know when was the last time you touched grass, dear reader. Go out sometimes, it'll be good for you.

What was he thinking again? Ah, grass.

‘I broke the fourth wall? You're just seeing things, sweetheart.’ he thought in amusement, eyes staring off somewhere as if looking at something... Or someone.

He just chuckled in amusement before walking towards one of the bushes of roses, the heels of his shoes clicked against the pebbled pathway and he stopped in front of a bush of white roses, the fragrance of the flower immediately filling his nose.

It's been so long. He forgot what roses smell like.

Lucifer's eyes sparkled in awe, his wine red like eyes filled with wonder, his right gloved hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, feeling its softness—just one of the few species of flowers that bloomed in hell for the first time.

“Do you like it?” a feminine voice spoke out—a voice familiar to Lucifer, a voice belonging to a certain radio demon's mother, the silkiness of her voice—it made Lucifer shudder, “I thought the garden looked bare, I thought some greenery would fix it.” [Y/n] chuckles softly.

Lucifer turns around and sees [Y/n] standing behind him, her hands behind her back. The red knee length dress hugged her curves perfectly—it stole Lucifer's breath away, she's gorgeous.

He chuckles, placing his right hand back to his cane, “Indeed, it has been quite long since I've seen such beautiful flowers.” he says, his voice filled with longing and a hint of sadness that [Y/n] didn't fail to notice but decided not to point it out, “They are lovely, I am grateful for being presented with another opportunity to see such beautiful flowers.” he spoke softly, irises glancing at the flowers briefly before looking back at the taller woman.

[Y/n] chuckles softly, “It's a pleasure,” she says with a small smile, taking slow steps as she walked by his side.

“It was fun growing them and an honor to give the princess of hell her own garden of flowers.” she says with a slight chuckle.

“And with that, I am forever grateful.” Lucifer says with a small smile, eyes shining briefly and for once, it's not dull.

[Y/n] was glad to see the shine on his beautiful eyes, and also seeing a genuine smile on the man's face.

After all, you're never fully dressed without a smile.

“You are most absolutely welcome, sweetheart.” she says with a grin, amusement dancing in her eyes as the rosy spots on the man's cheeks seem to redden even more.

“Ex-excuse m-me?!” he stammers, the endearment catching him off guard, it has been quite some time since someone called him something so... Affectionate.

[Y/n] tilted her head slightly, a feigned confusion on her face. Who knew the king of hell is quite easy to tease?

“Hmm? Is something the matter?” she asked softly, a hint of playfulness in her voice, “Is the nickname not to your liking? Would you prefer darling instead?” she asked teasingly.

Lucifer has never been more flustered in his entire existence.

“Are you normally this mischievous?” he asked, his hand covering his face while his other hand gripped into his cane.

“Usually I'm more.” she answered honestly with mischief on her lips.

“Of course, you're the mother of a certain radio demon.” he said with an exaggerated sigh making [Y/n] chuckle.

“Speaking of him, where is he? He usually stays by your side.” he deadpans, his hand that was covering his face lowered back to hold his cane, he's been wanting to interact with this woman properly ever since he met her but that damn radio demon kept her away.

[Y/n] hums, “I am not entirely sure, I'm sure he is somewhere around the hotel.” she says with a hum in her voice, glancing at the side to see a certain demonic shadow quickly leaving.

This damn brat, she'll teach him a lesson later.

Lucifer just hums, thank Satan. He can't stand that demon and his annoying grin.

Finally recomposing himself, he grins at her.

“Well then, I hope everyone in the hotel is treating you well? I haven't gotten the chance to ask you as a certain someone kept getting in the way.” he says with a small smile but his voice strained a little when he mentioned a certain someone.

[Y/n] hums softly, leaning down slightly to reach the rose bush, her hand gently caressing the petal of a white rose, “Everyone has been nice so far, I'm glad you asked.” she says cheerfully.

“I'm glad.” he says with grin.

“I am glad too.” she said softly with a grin.

Maybe, hell isn't too bad.

Both of them thought at the same time.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

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[chronicbeans]

Welcome Home Fae AU x Human Reader (Prologue? Concept?)

While trying to figure out what type of fae folk the other neighbors would be, I kinda came up with this idea if how an x Reader fic might start out. It only really has Wally and the Reader interact, since he is the only fae character I have made, and Eddie is stuck in the Fairy Realm. I just wanted to write it down before I lost it in all my other thoughts. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated! OwO

TW: Small Mention of Threatened Harm

You watch your father cradle the small baby in his arms, which, in all the years that it has spent in your family, has never grown at all. How many years has it been? Fifteen? Twenty? It doesn't matter exactly. It disturbs and saddens you that this baby, who was acquired before you were even born, has not grown an inch, while you are now an adult.

Your father sighs, rocking in his rocking chair. His hair is a mess and his shirt covered in dirt. "It will be okay, little fella," he says, letting the small babe in his arms grab onto his finger "the wet nurse should be here, soon. Mom may have left, but we can still feed you once the nurse arrives. Isn't that right, (Y/N)?" You weakly smile, nodding "Yeah. She should be here in a couple of minutes. Let me light some candles to warm you up, Liam. I know you don't like fire, so the candles will be a bit better than the fireplace." You hurry over, lighting a few candles as your father mutters a soft "Thank you, sweetie. That would be lovely."

Once you return with the candles, you set them down on the table near your father's rocking chair. He hums, seemingly trying to soothe the now crying baby in his arms. Then, he looks over to you as he asks "Did I ever tell you why I never leave Liam alone?" You nod in response "People want to hurt him, right? They want to hurt him because he never grows." "Yes... but there is more. You see-" the front door to your little cottage resounds as the nurse knocks on it. "I will tell you later. Would you be a dear and go pick some berries from the forest? Some mushrooms, too. I will make us some dinner to eat while we talk."

With that, you take your daily stroll through the woods. Your cartage is close to Faeshire, but not so close as to be able to see the village. There is no path to and from the village from your cottage, either. Your father explained it as a way to protect Liam from the people who wish to hurt him. He even said that it was why he left his mother. She wanted to hurt him, too. The only situation you have heard about that is similar to Liam's is... well, fae folk got involved somehow and messed things up. Despite this, it is clear that your father loves Liam very much, despite his oddities. Who wouldn't? Liam is so sweet and has done nothing wrong...

You are so lost in though, you didn't realize that you were also physically lost in the woods. You look left and right, unable to spot your cottage or Faeshire. You do, however, see a berry bush nearby, deciding that you might as well check them out. They... LOOK edible, but you have never seen them before. Neither have you seen the oddly colored mushroom ring a few feet from the bush, or the singular apple tree a few feet further. Stepping closer the the strange ring, you instantly recognize it as a fairy ring. Blues, reds, yellows and even purples and greens all dust the mushroom tops. You stand a few feet away from the fairy ring, knowing full well that it acts as a transport to the Fairy Realm.

A rustle in the apple tree catches your attention. You look up, expecting to see a squirrel getting ready for winter. It is late autumn, after all. Instead, you see a pair of dark eyes peering through the leaves, as well as a few specks of yellow and blue peeking through. Letting out a yelp, you step back a few paces, causing a snicker to emit from whatever is in the tree. "Hello, human!" A monotone voice says, followed by a few more rustles as the creature climbs down the tree to a lower branch.

Within moments, you finally get to see what it is. A man... no... thing is sitting on a branch. Its yellow skin contrasts its blue hair, which has a few tree branches seemingly tangled or growing alongside it, neatly styled alongside the hair itself. The large, dark eyes stare you down as it grins, a set of pearly white teeth seeming out of place for this clearly inhuman creature. You point to it, your hand shaking as you ask "You are a fae, right? What are you" "Wally Darling, dear human! Do not be afraid. I'm a simple dryad. A kindly dryad. Much better than a pixie or a troll."

You relax slightly. Yes... The dryad are naturally kind, as long as you do not harm the trees. You haven't done so, so this dryad should be kind to you, right? Might as well shoot your shot and see if it can point you in the direction of home, or to Faeshire. Either one is good. "Okay... I am so sorry for asking, Wally, but... Can you help me home? I live in a cottage not far from Faeshire. I lost my way while searching for berries and mushrooms for my father. I am not asking for much more than a simple point of the finger towards either place." He leans back in the tree, resting his back against the bark of the trunk as his legs lie along a large branch. "Hmmm... That should be easy. Too easy. There is something else on your mind, I can tell. A little-big brother, perhaps?" Your eyes widen. How does he know?

He then chuckles as your expression, pointing to you "Here's a little deal for you, human! I know that you want help with his situation. I'll point you in the direction of your cottage, like you asked so kindly for. Once you get home, I'll give you... let's say three days to bring your little-big brother to me. After that, we shall make another deal that gives me something proper in return. The first two days should be spent getting both yourself and your brother prepared for the cold. Then, on the third, simply walk in a straight line through the woods, and I shall put you on course to this exact location. Got it?"

You stand as still as stone, staring up at him. This deal is a bad idea, you know for sure. Deals between humans and fae almost always go wrong. In fact, you are pretty sure they never go right for the human, which... well, you are the human in this deal. The sky is growing darker, though, and the cold is slowly seeping through your cloak to the very marrow of your bones. You didn't dress for the weather, due to only expecting to be out for an hour or so. Soon enough, when the sky goes pitch black with night, the air will freeze you as you wander blindly through the forest. Not only that, but this dryad seems determined to make a deal. Yes, the dryad's are naturally kind to good humans... but what if this one doesn't see you as kind? It may use whatever powers it has to make you even more lost if you don't agree.

"Okay... I agree." It grins, with a smile as wide and sly as a cheshire cat. "Good human. Now, let me see... Over there is the best path. It has the most edible berries and mushrooms, and will lead you straight to your cottage." It points somewhere behind you. As you take a few steps in the direction it pointed in, the dryad calls out "I'll be sure to keep you safe on your way." Then, you hear it scuttle back up its tree.

It was right, as within a mere minute, you have mysteriously arrived home, your basket full of berries and mushrooms and your father holding you tightly. "Never go missing like that again, (Y/N)! I was worried someone might have hurt you, or worse..." "Don't worry, dad. I was just a bit lost. On the bright side, I have brought us a lot of berries and mushrooms for dinner. I don't know what you would make with these... but whatever you make is fine."

You look down into your basket to count how many mushrooms you got, only to be surprised by an odd fruit in the basket. Picking it up, you see a nice, ripe, red delicious apple has somehow found its way into your basket.

[romanyeva]

Been seeing a bit about of the MAwS version of Deathstroke on my feed recently with not a little outrage at his twunkiness or not-dilfness or something and that he might be a little bit pathetic.

Well!

Comics Slade Wilson can be VERY MUCH a pathetic wet meow meow of a man. Here he is in the series end of his latest title, Deathstroke vol. 4 # 50 (2016-2020):

This takes place after his showdown with an alternate Slade Wilson from the Dark Multiverse. He's reconciling with his ex-wife - you know, the one who shot his eye out - and cooking Christmas Eve dinner for the family. Of which, William "Billy" Wintergreen is an honorary member. Just look at Slade's little purple house slippers!

More scans from this series end under the cut:

Rose and Joseph, Slade's kids, and Adeline also greet Wintergreen. So domestic! And look at Joey using wifi to speak through his mom's house speakers. Yes, Joseph Wilson aka Jericho - canonically bisexual - is very much alive in DC Rebirth (and his story is wild and dramatic, tragic and uplifting)! [If something awful happened to Jericho after this issue, let me know.]

Then Slade and Billy go down to the basement to have a little chat.

Looking at the basement, Slade is definitely settled in for the long haul. He has his 'man-cave', need I remind you, in the basement. He's definitely playing nice with the ex no matter how many knife fights they get into with each other. And here he explains to Wintergreen, that he was going to play dead because it would be best for everyone - meaning his family. He may be absolutely sure of his deadly abilities, but his personal ones? Not so much. He's a dangerous guy! It's bad for the kids!

But he's still retired, just not in hiding anymore. He's going to be a responsible partner and father, darn it!

Take a long look at his famous Deathstroke sword, placed in retired honor on the wall, because it will be important in a bit.

You heard the man, Billy, Deathstroke is done! And they still have Christmas dinner to take care of!

Aw, look at this picture of domestic bliss. Adeline and Wintergreen are talking shop; Rose and Joey are playing a video game and being very sibling. But, OH NO, look at Slade and his body language. He's sitting pressed against the corner of the sofa, still in his little purple house slippers, just absolutely slumped and not having a good time. SLADE! SLADE WILSON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!

His family's chatter just becomes noise in the background as he replays - from earlier in the issue - darker Slade's words in his head. And darker Slade said these same words to him TWICE. Telling him that he - our Slade Wilson - ruined all the good things in his life, that he did it to himself.

So he goes to get the turkey out of the oven.

More domestic stuff, aww 🧡 But where's our man Slade? Billy goes to check.

Turkey abandoned. Back door open. And the infamous Deathstroke sword RIPPED OFF THE WALL AND OUT OF RETIREMENT.

And there he is folks, Deathstroke, back in the shadows. Slade Wilson abandoned his family AGAIN! Slade Wilson, you pathetic wet meow meow of a man! You just cannot - absolutely CANNOT - allow yourself to be happy.

I would say that he isn't doomed by the narrative, but that he dooms himself; but if we were talking CLASSIC TRAGEDY, he has this absolutely fatal flaw that dooms him to be alone. And in a metatextual sense, that's also true, because he's become one of DC's banner villains. They will not let him retire, become anything but a morally dark gray character, so they gave him this ironclad flaw:

What can you take from a man who has nothing? Give him something first.

And Slade Wilson would rather have nothing because he's already lost too much.

[millenniumfae]

Dragon Age Demons vs Real-Life 'Inner Demons'

Way back in the summer of 2015, my symptoms got so unbearable I was bedridden. 20 years old and experiencing psychosis, quasi-hallucinations, and actual, unending panic for the first time. It marked the start of a condition that has never stopped since.

My aunt (and other relatives) helped me develop proper mindfulness skills based off of our homeland's folk Buddhism - the 'second arrow'. The meaningless of forgiveness. Devaluing control. And something that struck me as a new Dragon Age fan … 'Possession'.

Well, when translated to english, you'll find texts using the word 'insight' rather than 'possession'. But that's the word my mom translated from off the top of her head, and it immediately resonated with me.

"Imagine your panic as an inner creature. Something that is also you, but is acting independently. Treat your panic with kindness and mentorship, not antagonism. The more you struggle in the spider's web, the worse things get. But if you nourish what's hurting in you, let them tantrum, then come back in to nurture."

Up until the 2010s, the most acclaimed mental health books you could buy written in the english language would most certainly be christianity-influenced. Maybe not overtly, (but you'd be surprised how many have a chapter about "insert-book-topic-here and Christ") but there's little hints like how the reader must have left home at 18 to avoid mooching off their parents, or how to 'turn guilt into something productive' (???), the use of the word 'gamble' as a bad word, etc. But these books tend to include a chapter that would be some weird bullshit like "The Dark Souls Of Respawning?? What Daoism Says About Immortality" and take a brief moment to talk about the radical, never-before-heard-of methods from across the pacific that Will Turn Your World Upside Down.

Behavior therapists (of the 1950s) were aware insights about the origins of the problem usually weren't helpful. Exposure to the thing the patient feared was often curative. -When Panic Attacks by David D. Burns MD, Chapter 18, "Taking a page from the Tibetan Book of the Dead"

Now, it's no secret that the Dragon Age serial is very. Um. Christian. Catholic, specifically. Faith is written to be an unequivocally redeeming trait. Attempts at inventing fake elf/qunari/Tevinter 'religions' still have them be belief-based, colonialist, and conversion-heavy, while also at the same time implying that the 'Maker' of Chantry faith is the single actual true god.

So it's no surprise that the demons and spirits of DA are very seven-deadly-sins. Party banter and side-quests do point out the euro/christian-centricity of this demon categorization (Merrill, Solas), but that doesn't mean shit if, in overall story and gameplay proper, Pride is the most powerful demon while Faith is virtue at all.

So here I am, lying in bed and only capable of just riding the waves of panic day after torturous day. You bet I'm gonna try to geek-erize my symptoms. If people do it with Jesus, then I can do it with Dragon Age.

Enter Vigilance the Spirit. I was an at-risk young Rivani mage, so their Magic Welfare Government helped me join their クサビ-依り代 program and matched me with a spirit to induce possession. Can't boil two skulls in one pot, so to speak. I could have chosen to do their hemispherectomy program (I am made Tranquil but carry around a piece of the Fade like a pacemaker that keeps me perfectly lucid, only turning off when I sleep), but that comes with its own risks.

But it doesn't take much for a spirit of Vigilance to do a 180 and become Panic. They're still Vigilance, and I am still me, but the taste in the mouth is different. Our life will need to adapt.

I will not kick myself for 'failing' my friend. Vigilance has turned to Panic, yes. But they have always been one. Now, so are me and Panic. Such is the nature of spirits.

If I am kind to my spirit, then I am kind to myself. It's what we both deserve.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

I have posted this before but it's been on my mind today so here it is again. An excerpt from a future story that will probably be published, eventually.

There is a perfunctory knock on the worn old door, and Max steps inside. "Thank you for taking time to see me, Pastor."

The neat little man turns away from the desk and offers his hand. “Max. Glad to do it. Coffee?”

"No, thank you, I've already had too much today." He laughs a little and sits down.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I do.” The pastor pours himself a cup from the corner table and sits down in the other leather armchair and props his ankle on his knee and says, “Alright. We can small-talk for a while or just get to killin’ rats. Not many guys ask to see me the second Sunday they start comin’. Your call.” He’s got a gentle Southerner’s lilt, his voice far deeper than his trim frame would suggest.

Max bites his thumb briefly before leaning forward, clasped hands between his knees. "I only started comin' t' church recently an' I got some... hypothetical questions."

“It’s a good kind to have.” An unhurried sip of coffee.

A deep breath. "Say a family lost their dad. A big family. Couldn't make it on just th' mom working. So some of the kids... started stealing. Shoplifting an' stealin' food. Ta keep the little ones alive." He looks up from his clasped hands to meet the pastor's eyes evenly. "Say... one of 'em found Jesus, later. Grown up. An'... he couldn't repent of stealin' stuff as a kid, couldn't be sorry he had, because it was all that kept his little brothers fed some days. What... what then."

A thoughtful run of silence. “I think I might find it interestin’ to know if the finding Jesus was accompanied by repentance of other less… desperate sorts of transgressions or not.”

Max looks down at his hands again, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing. "Yes," he says softly, hands trembling slightly. He clasps them tighter. "It would be."

“There’s that bit in the Gospels where the Lord tells them Pharisees that they like to swallow camels and strain out gnats, you familiar with it?”

This jerks Max's head back up to look at him. "No."

“Well, the idea was that the religious elite of the day would pin fussy little sins on folks with one hand. Not washing their hands enough. Working on the Sabbath. That sort of thing. And with the other hand they’d be covering up sins like adultery and murder and hatred and greed.”

"I hear stealin' is pretty far up there."

The little pastor sits back in his chair, his arms and shoulders relaxed, the coffee steaming in his hand. He says, “What does this kid think that God is like? That might be a question worth pokin’ at.”

Max's knuckles whiten. "If he thinks of Him at all, it's that He's cruel."

“And what do you think He’s like.”

A moment. "That verse about... workin' in mysterious ways."

Another sip of coffee. Listening.

Max doesn't continue.

The pastor sets his coffee down gently on the side table and stands and shuffles back to the coffee pot and rummages a moment and comes back with a plastic sleeve of Oreo cookies.

He peels open the plastic and hooks out three Oreos and sets the sleeve on the table between them and bites into the first one and chews in a mulling-over sort of way.

Max glances at it and then down at his hands again. His voice is very quiet. "Don't know what to think. Bible says He's holy, yeah? An' I know I'm not. So that... really only leaves the option’a  believing. An' tryin' t’ do what He says."

“Does this hypothetical fellow think the only way he can come is if he cleans his act up first? And he doesn’t want to do it? So that means he can’t come?”

A faint furrow between red brows. "Come... to church?"

“Come to Christ.”

"...heard that Christ comes first an' cleaning the act up comes after."

“So if I’m understanding right, the… hypothetical… guy is mad at God because of what happened when he was a kid, desperate enough to steal to feed his family, and he doesn’t want  to come because God is sitting in some sort of pious disapproval of the theft. Am I trackin’?”

One hand lifts as though Max is going to bite his thumb again, then drops. "Not precisely. Mad as a kid. Grew up into... acceptance I guess. Came to believe." A slow breath. "Asked... did the..." A vague gesture. "The whole... getting saved thing."

“Came to believe what, in particular?”

"That He's holy. We're all sinners an' need His blood to be saved from damnation."

“Any thoughts about what He might get up to once He does the savin’?”

"Then there's a buncha rules to follow. An' if ya do y'll be blessed. Or somethin'."

A thoughtful hum. The pastor eats another oreo. “You got kids, Max?”

"Yeah," Max responds immediately, and amends, "adopted."

“That counts. We have a coupla those, too. Boys or girls?”

A faint smile. "One boy. Allan. He's married with kids of his own now," he adds proudly.

“Good man,” the pastor chuckles. “That’s what we’re after. Tell me this. When he was little and he didn’t mind you, did you whip’im?”

Max shifts his jaw ruefully. "Didn't get him until he was eleven, and he always minded. Sweetest kid ever. I beat the he- the tarnation outta my brothers though. Growin' up. Wa'n't anyone else t' do it."

Another chuckle. “Someone’s got to. Was that one of ‘em I saw this morning? Light-haired?”

"Yep." Max's eyes drift a little in thought. "His wife'n daughter wanted t' come."

“More’n him? Brothers?”

"Five more. I'm th' eldest an' he's the third."

A long low eloquent whistle. “Seb’in boys. And you had to be daddy.”

Max shrugs.

“So… hypothetically… is the one of these fellas with the repentin’ hangup about the stealin’ the oldest one? Or a younger one.”

Max looks down at his hands again. "...th' oldest."

A low thoughtful rumble.

"There were plenny o' hungry days anyway," Max says softly, studying his hands. "The twins wouldn't'a made it if... nobody helped, we tried that first..."

“How old were you.”

"Eight."

The pastor studies his third Oreo for a while. Max steals a glance at him before dropping his eyes back to his hands.

“Do you steal to feed ‘em now?”

"No. Don't need to anymore. Big enough ta work, now," Max says bluntly. "An' they're all grown too. He- heck, Riser's got kids of his own."

The pastor nods and twists the Oreo open and sticks it back together and says to his hands, “Are you familiar with the phrase, ‘Striking a straight blow with a crooked stick’?”

Max looks up at him cautiously. "No."

“There’s a good little handful of times in Scripture where God makes sure we know He used the sinful actions of sinful men to accomplish His good purposes. The death of Christ the most striking one. Paul says that if the rulers of the age had known what God intended to do with their murderous plans—save the whole world—they would not have crucified the Lord of Glory.” He opens the Oreo again and sticks it back together. “But there are other less cosmic examples of the same… principle.”

Max eyes him skeptically.

“God says that taking what your neighbor has worked to produce without paying him for it is defrauding your neighbor. God also says that a man who doesn’t provide for his household is worse than a pagan.” The pastor raises his eyes to meet Max’s. “Taking what didn’t belong to you was a sin against some other man who was also trying to provide for his household. Feeding your family was not. It is possible to agree with God on the former, and praise Him that in His kindness He used it to accomplish the latter. These two things need not be in opposition to one another.”

Max drops his head into his hands, scrubbing at his face. "I don't understand."

“Son, how do you think the Lord thinks about all the rest of your sin? Right now. Your anger and your pride and the grudges you’ve carried and the women you’ve looked on, wanting to have what wasn’t yours. All of which I only know because I’m also a man, guilty of all of it, and far worse.” He tips his head, regarding Max steadily. “You say you have believed on the Lord Jesus. If this is true, then the state of all your sin must now be understood a certain way. All of it. How do you think we ought to understand it?”

Max looks up at him, puzzled. "It's filth."

“And has the Lord done anything to address the fact that it makes us filthy?”

Max gives him a look like he's not sure if the pastor is stupid or thinks he is. "That's why Jesus came."

“Good. Yes. Keep going.”

"...an' we have to believe on Him."

“Good. Max, I’m not trying to be condescending here, I’m trying to get an idea of how much you have… apprehended in your understanding of what might be happening to you, okay?”

Max eyes him. "...okay."

“Havin’ to take care of a bunch of little kids, being a father when you were still a kid yourself—that happened because someone somewhere sinned grievously against you. Whether it was your mother or your father or someone else, doesn’t matter. We don’t have to peg it down. You should never have had to be in such a strait. You know that?”

"Yes," Max says bluntly.

“There’s a passage in the Book of Romans where Paul declares there is now therefore no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, have you run across that one?”

"No. Haven't gotten there yet."

“What this doesn’t mean is that sin is no longer sinful. That we somehow wave it away. There is no condemnation because the rightful condemnation for it has been laid on Christ’s shoulders instead of ours. Yes?”

"If we repent," Max insists. "It's not a blanket cover-all for those who don't want it. Gotta be accepted."

“Legally it’s true before you repent. When you got saved, did every sin you’ve ever committed or ever will come crashing down on you? One and done? Or has it been a slow revealing. Small bit at a time. A little more as you go along.”

Max's mouth tightens. "Feels like both," he grumbles.

The pastor laughs lowly. “Feels like both,” he agrees. “But one and done or bit at a time, the point remains. Repentance doesn’t mean the practice of self-flagellation. Those blows have already landed, and they didn’t land on you. Repentance means you lay it down. You set it aside, because God has done this first.” He shifts in his chair, his eyes on Max’s face. “What this also means is that we don’t actually have to bring ourselves to some sort of emotional resolution about it. If there is no condemnation, you don’t have to try and conjure up feelings of guilt for some sin in the distant past. If you’re stealing no longer, you’re already conformed to God’s will for you in this.”

Max goes silent, pondering this.

“Now, if you came to me and said, ‘Brother Tim, I’m still stealing to feed my family and I ain’t sorry a lick about it’, this conversation would probably need to be a little different in the tone.”

"No. Stopped that years ago," he says quietly.

The pastor nods slowly. “Now, when Zaccheus came to the Lord, he went and made fourfold restoration to those he had defrauded.”

"I don't even remember. Don't know that I could find them," Max says slowly.

“Well, the Lord isn’t an ignoramus about logistical impossibilities. Sometimes things come down to… would you if you could. If the opportunity came. What is the bent of your heart toward the idea.”

"If I could? Yeah."

“So when you say you can’t or won’t repent for stealing to feed your family—hypothetically of course…”

"Can't be sorry for feeding them by whatever means necessary. Hypothetically."

“You got to the parts yet when the prostitute women come to the Lord?”

"At the well?"

“That’s one of ‘em. Coupla others as you go.”

"An' He tells them to go an' sin no more."

“Yup. And there’s a better chance than none that those kinds of girls were a bit like you. Doin’ what they had to to keep someone alive. Mebbe themselves. Mebbe a kid sister somewhere, or a baby, or a parent. What He doesn’t say to them is first you gotta think about what got you here until you feel the right amount of guilt about it.” He bites the Oreo, finally, and says before he’s quite done chewing, “You know the stealing was wrong or you wouldn’t be fightin’ your head about it. You’ve already gone and stopped.”

Max lowers his face back into his hands and scrubs again and goes still and says muffledly, "Okay. I think I got it. Thank you."

“Repenting for the theft is not the same as repenting for the provision, Max. Just because they’re tangled up together doesn’t mean the Lord can’t parse them. You and I can, sitting here, a coupla ol’ Southern boys who probably didn’t finish school ‘tween the pair of us. If we can, He surely can better’n us.”

Max's hands tighten on his face, fingers tensing, but he doesn't answer that.

“Max. Son. Anyone ever told you that you did a good job? A man’s job? Anyone ever told you that?”

He doesn't emerge from his hands. "Couple times. M' uncle, for one, when he... found out what was goin' on."

“He was right. You kept those boys alive. They all still around? You still talk to ‘em?”

"All but two of us are up here visitin' Riser an' his family. Ken's got a shop an' a son back home, an' Cary stayed t' keep an eye on Mom's house."

“Y’all take care of your mama?"

"Yes," he says instantly. "She's here too – I'm sure you've seen her. Hair like mine."

“Met her briefly last Sunday, yessir.”

Max nods decisively. "We take care'f 'er."

“Good man.”

"We all love her. She did her best for us an' never stopped tryin'. Didn't drink or do drugs or anythin', just took on more work and made more time for us."

“Good woman, too.”

"She is," Max says simply.

“What about your brother, you said he has kids? More’n just the one he brought?”

"Little ones, yeah. Don't sit still. Another brother watched 'em while their parents were here."

“Well, tell ‘im they’re welcome too, I’m too old and tired to let a few squirmers bother me.”

Max grins at that. "I'll let 'em know. Maybe not right off though." The smile fades, replaced by sadness. "Say boo too loud and they'll both be gone before ya know it. Mom'n I're tryin' ta draw 'em in slow."

“Your brother’s not where you’re at yet, I take it.”

"Not even remotely." His hands drop back to hang between his knees again. "He barely made it through this morning."

That low, deep chuckle again. “Anything in particular that chapped him?”

"That would be f'r him ta say, not me."

A low laugh, a nod, and, “Well, I hope he’ll come and tell me eventually.”

"I hope so." Max stirs and sits up straight. "Thank you. You've helped."

“Don’t know about that. Nosed up in your business and told you you’re a sinner.”

A rueful half-grin. "Knew that much already," he says plainly. "You helped. Thank you." He stands, extending his hand.

The pastor stands with him and shakes it firmly. “You need to hash on anything else, you let me know. There’s a place up the road makes a half-decent barbecue, I’d buy you a sandwich next time.”

Max nods firmly, smiling a little. "I'll keep it in mind. Thank you, sir." He lets himself out.

[cookieek]

So, like many others I sat down to watch the recent hbomberguy video, and watching it has made me think back to about how I’ve handled my folklore inspiration for wayward.

Notably that I ended up taking heavily inspiration from the illustrations by Katarina Strömgård in Per Gustavssons (2006) ”Sägenresan” when it came to the designs for the skogsrå, Snurra, and the sjörå. (Pictured bellow, Strömgårds illustrations to the left, my sketches to the right)

I did not do this with the intent of plagiarism, I know that I mentioned getting inspired by illustrations from a folk lore book in one of my authors notes for Wayward and that I did share Strömgårds illustrations of the troll drawing that inspired snurra and the sjörå on the red shoes discord and mentioning that I used them as inspiration (I could only find me mentioning the illustration for the skogsrå on the discord server when I went looking, I had to find the actual picture from the dms with another person in the server). However I do feel that I might not have been clear enough about this inspiration, and that looking back I, possibly out of some form of laziness, did at the very least not do enough with the characters in my sketches to visually distinguish them from the designs pictured in Strömgårds work, especially when it comes to the Skogsrå.

I doubt that Strömgård will ever see this, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it, and I’m planning to edit the posts that features the characters to link to this post in order to give proper credits to the artist who was at the heart of those designs. Sägenresan and it’s illustrations has been with me since I was a child, it’s hard not to feel disappointed in myself, and I am sorry.

If you’re curious about Strömgårds work, then I recommend looking at her website (where she’s got coloured versions of some of the books illustrations for a recent web project under the same name as the book by Gustavsson!):

She also has an instagram under the handle strmgrd!

I should at this point also note that unless I was taking inspiration from stories told by my mom or just general ideas of folklore that I’ve heard while growing up, a big source for the folklore bits in wayward which I talk about in the authors notes for the chapters is Per Gustavssons (2006) “Sägenresan”, though I did not always reread the stories from it in question. And though I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned that the herbal magic in wayward was inspired by stories from a childrens flora book, I figure I should be more clear and reference to it as Bissa Falk och Lena Kallenbergs ”Barnens flora” and ”Barnens flora 2” (both of my copies of these books are missing their copyright page so I can’t say their specific release date for sure, but I do know the original editions seemed to have been published 1982 and 1983 as those are the dates given to the first editions of the work on Libris, Alex.se and worldcat (though worldcat only seemed to have the first book of the two and the edition which collects the books into one)). When I get the time I’ll try to go through the authors notes for Wayward to make sure these are given their proper credit, and I’m sorry for not doing that before. Also, when I’m already on the topic, please don’t take Edda using real life herbs in for the healing magic as health advice, and if you decide to get into herbal medicine then I beg you to be safe about it, understand it’s limits and just go to the doctor of you’re dealing with something serious. There are many quacks out there, many dangerous ideas and ‘cure-alls’ that at best doesn’t work and at worst are actively harmful. Saint john’s wort will not cure your cancer.

Finally, when I’m already here I should also mention that an notable inspiration for even considering the regency au that eventually became “A Lord and Lace” was sboochi’s Bridgerton inspired Regency au drawings. I realised I was never really open about that and that made me feel a bit scummy, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry that this isn’t the fun superhero au synopsis, but when this landed in my mind I really felt like I had to say something about it. I’ll try to get the synopsis out soon, I am still sick, but it seems to be on it’s way out, I hope, either way I hopefully will have that post out sometime next week. And again, I’m sorry for my sloppy work.

I hope everyone nonetheless have a good day.

[majorgammage]

My husband wondering why I’m on my phone at 3am typing away: …What if she’s talking to other guys?

Me in my iPhone notes:

—-

How lgbt+ friendly are Stardew Valley folks anyway? A breakdown of suspected character philosophies:

—

Objectively homophobic, repeats shitty takes on “woke culture” they heard on a podcast: Pam, Alex

Tries to debate biological sex but only cites sources 20+ years out of date: Gunther

Straight until further notice, gets your pronouns right but still calls you ugly to your face: Haley

Accidentally homophobic, but gets too defensive to learn from it: Clint

Trans and living her best life: Sandy

Also trans, has some serious work to do on himself: Shane

Educates you on ten different cultures’ worth of ideas on gender and sexuality from his travels but never talks about himself: Linus

Has enjoyed many whirlwind romances in his life and claims it doesn’t really matter as long as you’re enjoying the adventure: Professor Snail

Doesn’t have a problem with gay people but still insists they just didn’t “have those” in his day: George

Doesn’t understand what the big deal is, claims everyone knows women are just more attractive. Thinks it would be neat to live with your bff 24/7. Keeps a framed picture of her best friend on her nightstand: Evelyn

Desperately wants to be bisexual for the aesthetic, but she’s just an awkward ally—still wears a lot of rainbows and a she/her pronoun pin at work: Emily

Pansexual, but only likes you if you own a sword (WILL critique how you hold it): Abigail

Queer bffs club, everyone’s tried to date at some point but they’re not really compatible with each other or anyone else in town, so they just meet up and talk shit at the saloon: Elliot, Leah, Penny

Undecided, too busy working and being edgy to care much anyway: Sebastian

Straight, genuinely invested in getting your pronouns right—honestly one of the safest bets in town if he can get out of his parents’ house: Sam

Starts the local Gay-Straight Alliance chapter the minute Sam starts wearing nail polish. Still learning but means well: Jodi

Trying to be supportive of whatever, secretly scared Sebastian is making his son gay: Kent

Devout Yoba follower who claims to welcome everyone but definitely has Opinions despite needing a literal she-shed to escape the mundanities of her own hetero marriage: Caroline

Flies rainbow flags everywhere in June, but only to capitalize on profits: Pierre

Gay but still a shitty person, votes conservative: Morris

Kissed a guy in college but pretty sure it isn’t for him, reminds you to get tested regularly and always use protection no matter who you’re with: Harvey

Gray ace, exclusively reads queer monsterfucker fanfic and scientific journals, might consider a relationship with the right person/machine: Maru

Bisexual, needs marriage counseling in a bad way: Robin

Asexual/aromantic, self-therapized into that realization late in life but hasn’t ever discussed how that might affect, you know, his wife: Demetrius

Emotional support straight/designated mom friend: Marnie

Not gay but supportive, does a lot of extracurricular reading to support Marnie and Shane: Mayor Lewis

Husbands of 20+ years: Gil and Marlon

Former leather club gods, occasional hookups with Gil and Marlon: Willy, Grandpa

Owned the leather club, may or may not have participated: Gus

Reproduces asexually so can’t comprehend the conversation: Dwarf

Non-binary king: Krobus

Love is love, and that’s all she has to say about that: Birdie

Doesn’t really do labels, only requirement is that you’re into smooth jazz: The Bouncer

Somehow transcended gender and achieved true peace, but is gatekeeping the secret: Mr. Qi

Just here for the soup: The Governor

[lionessinarms]

The Months in Between chapter 1

An Elemental fan fic.

The laughter of Cinder's sense of smell declaration fills the Shop. Ember can't help but enjoy the new feeling of Wade hugging her so close as they laugh. The bellows of his deep laughter are so soothing and welcoming. She doesn't want it to end but reluctantly she turns to gives him a smile. Wade silently acknowledges her look and partially lets go of their embrace. Now excited to officially meet her folks.

"Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend Wade Ripple." Ember tells them.

Wade gives Ember a smile similar to the one in the movie theater. This is the first time she has ever said that they were in a relationship despite all the obvious signs that they cared for each other. What else would you call the person you're in love with? Ember on the other hand looks nervously at her parents as their laughter fades.

Cinder is first, "Nice to meet you Wade."

Bernie says nothing and his face gets serious. He steps forward to square up with Wade. Ember is in between them unsure of what's about to happen. Wade is too unsure and lets go of Ember.

"Umm Àshfá?", Ember nervously asks. Her hands brought up to her face.

After what felt like an eternity Bernie speaks, "Thank you for saving my daughter." Then Bernie puts his hands together and does a small standing bow. This is not the Bà Ksô. 

Wade is shocked and then slowly comes the water works but he tires to hold it together as he says, "No problem... sniff... anything for Ember." The last part Wade's voice get all high pitched.

Bernie lifts his head in confusion and slowly backs off as Wade bellows out tears. "Uhh you good?" Then Bernie turns to Ember concerned, "What's going on?"

Ember chuckles as she puts her hand on his shoulder and tells her dad, "It's a Water thing and thank you that really means a lot."

Just then a phone can be heard ringing from Wade. Wade pulls the cell phone out from his collar and sees it his mom calling.

"Sniff... sorry, sniff... it's my mom, I should probably let her know I'm okay. I left as soon as I realized Firetown was getting flooded."

Ember replies, "Yeah of course let her know we're all okay."

As Wade takes a step out of the shop. The regular Fire patrons who were helping with the search all quickly gather around Ember. 

"What's it like touching Water?" "Did that kiss hurt?" "I've never seen so many colors from light."

Ember is taken back by surprise but Bernie steps in and rises his arms, "Okay, Okay, thank you for your help you can all go now." And shoos them away.

The regulars go, "Awww." 

Flarrietta and Flarry laugh and then tell the Lumens, "Glad you all are okay and I knew something was going on with you and that food inspector from day one!"

Ember nervously laughs and asks, "Wait. Really?"

Bernie admits to Ember, "We all knew you were with someone and that you would tell us eventually." Ember is looks at her father in shock then Bernie continues. "What? Your mother couldn't stop talking about smelling it on you every time you went out. I'm just surprise he's Water."

Ember tells Bernie, "Yeah me too." Her face soften though thinking she wouldn't have it any other way.

Outside the shop Wade talks to his mom on the phone.

"Yeah Mom, I'm fine so is Ember and her Family. Their Shop is still standing but there is a lot of clean up to do. We uhh also made up and we kissed." Wade tells his mom bashfully then he notices some more damage outside. "Looks like the wetro is down and the canals still have water. I'll just call an air lyft later. I, uhh, want to spend time with my girlfriend." There's a pause as Wade listen to his mom over the phone. "Yess, I'll call Gale too for my job back I'm pretty sure she is busy right now, but since I'm here I'll see what more I can do to help. Alright love you too, bye."

Wade steps back in the shop. Ember runs up to him and puts her hand on his shoulder to ask, "Is everything okay?" 

Wade looks down at his shoulder where Ember is touching him. It's such a small gesture but it's still new and exciting. Wade's head slightly bubbles as he thinks how awesome this is and yet is now terrified that there is this whole new set of boundaries he's got to learn. Fear? This is weird, why? Maybe it's because the last 24 hours has been one heck of a rollercoaster ride in his life and now that things have turned out amazing he's afraid that it will turn sour again. Wonder if Ember feels the same way? Taking his opposite hand and places on gently on top Ember's hand. They both hear the sizzle of their chemistry syncing. "I'm good." Wade's not lying and says, "I want to stay and help with the clean up."

Ember smiles and says, "Okay, well mom is checking up stairs, I'm checking the shop and my dad-" "WATER!!! AGH!!!" Bernie yells out, "-is in the basement.." Ember finishes saying. She is really embarrassed at her father's sudden outburst and she hopes Wade isn't offended. 

Wade can read Ember's thoughts on this one and honestly they been very good at reading each other since the day they met. Wade wants to show this isn't a problem. "I'll help in the basement." Wade says and he walks over to the staircase. Ember from behind him can't help but look nervous.

Bernie is fuming from the top of the staircase. Wade comes around the corner and steps around him. "Hold up, let me see if I can find a way to drain it." Wade states as he enters the water. Bernie looks surprised. As Wade steps into the flooded basement his finds the familiar family photo floating by. He carefully picks it up and gently shakes off the excess water. "Oh, here you go." Wade carefully hands the picture to Bernie, "I'll see if I can save more." Wade then turns and goes underwater.

Bernie looks down smiling at the photo of them celebrating Ember's fifth Birthday. From behind Bernie is Ember going from nervous to relieved as she watched her Àshfá calm down.

From under water Wade knocks at the water regulator he saw his first time he was in this basement and shakes his head. Then he looks over and finds some debris blocking a flood drain. He puts his hand over in the area and can feel the water wanting to drain. Wade looks around and finds something to grab ahold of as he kicks the debris away from the drain. The water gushes towards the drain but Wade has a tight grip on a pipe so he won't drain away with it. Bernie from the top of the stair case looks happy. Once the water is all drained off Wade lets go of the pipe. He looks up at the pipe he burst out of the first time he met Ember and smiles softly. 

Bernie runs down the stairs all excited to have this part of the Shop back. "You did it! Great job." Just then some water from the ceiling dripped onto Bernies head and he gets angry again. "OW!" Wade crouches down scared but then he stretches and reach up top to the pipes on the ceiling. Wade starts collection the excess water into his hands then drains them off in the now clear floor drain. And just like that Bernie's not mad anymore and they both start to laugh. "Looks like having some Water around isn't such a bad thing." Bernie says. Wades smiles and laughs taking the compliment. Ember from the top of the staircase just shakes her head. She is still really embarrassed by her dad's prejudice of Water but it's a start and Wade doesn't seem to mind. Wade looks back at Ember and smiles.

Cinder comes downstairs to the Shop, "The upstairs looks fine, nothing is damaged, and I have lunch ready. Come. I want to finally hear the story of how you two met." She tells Ember as she walks toward her. 

Bernie overhears and turns to Wade. "Yeah how did you end up in a pipe?" Bernie asks.

"It's a long story." Wade responds.

Cut to upstairs. We're in the Lumen's kitchen. The Lumens and Wade sit around a small dinning room table. It's an small, intimate space. Bernie yells, "30 CITATIONS?!"

Ember is helping past food around and responds to her dad in agreement, "Yeah that's what I said."

Wade looks horrified but defends his reasoning, "To be fair those pipes in their condition where very dangerous for Fire. I'm surprised you didn't have like a thousand leaks everyday." Wade says. He looks down at the kol nuts in his bowl, carefully hides with his hand over, and cools it down with his water. Just a bit.

Both Ember and Bernie looked at each other nervously. "Uhh we did." Ember stated. She continues to talk as she walks around where Wade is sitting. It's a tight space so she puts a hand on Wade's shoulder as she passes so she doesn't trip. She goes and sits next time him. "But then you wanted to help me get clear of those fines so it worked out." Ember smiles up at Wade a bit bashfully. 

Wade smiles back and puts his hand on top of hers on the table.

Cinder then asks, "Yeah but how did you fall in love?"

Bernie looks uncomfortable. "Ay-yah!Could you be more nosey?"

Cinder turns to her husband, "What? Don't you want to know more about you're future son-in-law?"

Ember nearly chokes on her drink as she turns bight yellow which is how she blushes. "Àshká! Really?"

Cinder yells and holds up her hands, "Ember your guys are a ten. What, you haven't talked about marriage yet?"

Bernie whispers to Cinder but everyone can hear it, "Can they get married or even have kids?" 

Bernie isn't being mean about his question either. It is really out of curiosity. He and Cinder honestly don't know any better being from a land of only Fire and have never seen or heard of Elements mixing before. They believed they couldn't but just like their move across the world they too are willing to change their way of thinking, for Ember.

Wade blushes, feeling the thick tension in the room then remembers and says to Ember nervously, "Hey you should tell them about the glass internship."

Ember breaths a sigh of relief at the change of subject. "Yes it's what I want to do instead of running the Shop, of course after the repairs are done and all. But Àshfá will you retire the Shop?"

Bernie says, "Don't worry about the Shop right now, I want to hear more about my daughter's dream." 

Ember smiles at her father. Wade lovely smiles at Ember as she talks about her dream of glassmaking.

After lunch the four get back to work cleaning the shop. Wade helps Ember bring boxes up to her room. As he does he keeps looking at the what looks like oil lamps hanging high above. Creating these beautiful spotted patterings across the ceiling walls. It's reminds him of Ember's beautiful light. 

"You can put those over there Wade." Ember directs him. She turns to see him not paying attention but looking at the lamps. Ember smiles and grabs one off the ceiling. "I'll grab some oil and matches for you later to keep it lit but here." 

Wade puts down the boxes, reaches out, and takes the lamp Ember is giving him. Memorized by it's beauty, "Whoa! You sure?"

Ember laughs at him, "Yes Wade, I have a million of them, it's the least I can do."

Wade looks at her and says, "You don't owe me anything Ember." 

Wade's words hit hard. Ember realizes that she was holding on to a guilt that just suddenly flooded up to the surface. Ember's fire turns red and she start to shrink like she did on the beach. She can't make eye contact with Wade and looks down at her feet. She quietly speaks almost a whisper, "I.. At least owe you an apolo-"

She doesn't get to finish her words as Wade quickly realizing what was going on. He places the lamp down and gives Ember a hug. Ember's light returns as soon as she feels his embrace. It's like his touch sets her back on fire. Wade speaks, "Hey, hey I meant what I said back there about no regrets. You don't have to apologize for anything Ember."

Ember doesn't say anything but takes a shaky deep breathe in and hugs Wade back as she breaths out. Wade doesn't speak anymore, he doesn't need to, he just smiles and hugs her. After a moment Ember speaks, "You're still keeping the lamp," then Ember pulls out the glass vivisteria globe from her pocket. "And I'm keeping this."

Wade sees the vivisteria knowing that that was supposed to be his break up gift and says. "Deal."

They are still holding on to each other but Wade slowly inches his face closer but then Bernie yells from downstairs.

"You two heading back down?!"

Cinder yells at Bernie, "Give those kids their space."

Bernie talks back to Cinder, "What, I thought they were helping?"

Cinder yells back up the stairs, "You two take your time.. but not in wedding planning."

Bernie, "ê shútsh!"

Ember groans in annoyance and she lets go of Wade to step up to the doorway. She yells back "We'll be down in a minute." Ember turns back to Wade, "Sorry about them and before." Ember glows a little yellow at the last part.

Wade laughs and says, "It's fine, really, but I got a lot to learn about Firish culture, admittedly. Speaking of which I'm curious, is that how you sleep?" Wade points over to Ember's bed. It's basically a grill grate with coals underneath and a half burnt log for a pillow.

Ember is confuse and not getting it that it's different. "Uhh yeah why, oh wait, do you sleep on a water bed or something?" 

Wade rubs the back of his head as he has thought bubbles and bashfully replies "Something..." "Let's go before your parents yell at us again."

Ember laughs and follows Wade back down stairs.

It's night. Ember is with Wade outside the Shop. An air Lyft is there to take Wade back home. We can see work trucks and crews out with bright lights fixing the streets. 

Wade goes, "Glad the city is working nonstop to get Firetown back up and running again."

Ember replies, "Yeah." But you can hear the disappointment in her voice because Wade is leaving to go home.

Wade notices and replies, "Hey I'll be back tomorrow as soon as I can. After I talk with Gale plus my Mom has been really worried about me." 

Ember looks up at Wade feeling a little guilty and replies, "Sorry." 

Wade smiles at Ember and gives her a hug. He reaches his hand up to cup her face. As he touches her face he whispers in her ear, "I love you." Then gives her a soft kiss on the cheek. He pulls away slightly to see Ember glowing a bright yellow and her beautiful light reflecting all around. Wade gives a cheeky grin but then is caught off guard to Ember basically pouncing on his lips with a kiss which he gladly returns. 

It's Ember's turn to pull away now. With her hand on his chest she looks up to him with a dreamy look on her face and says, "I love you too, see you tomorrow." Then she turns to walk back to the Shop. 

Wade has the most dorky, love sick smile on his face. He sluggishly turns around towards the air Lyft kind of like he's drunk. As he walks towards it he does an excited dance like he did on their movie date. 

The sound of the Shop door closes behind Ember. Her special light reflecting in the whole room. As she leans her back on the door she does a heavy, dreamy sigh. She pulls out the vivisteria globe from her pocket and plays with the light. But then she over hears her parents talk.

"I can't believe she choose Water!"

"Calm down Bernie, it is true love, and a perfect match. It's shouldn't matter what Element he is, they are both seem happy with it."

Ember tiptoes over to their door but stays out of sight.

Bernie replies, "I know I know but it's unheard of to have other Elements being together. What if it doesn't work out? It's just hard navigating an unknown this big. This is bigger then us leaving Fire Land."

Cinder tries to reassure him, "He's the nicest Water guy I ever met?"

Bernie, "He's the only nice Water any of us have ever met. Sigh, I sure hope Ember making the right choice." 

Cinder puts a hand on his shoulder, "It's out of our hands, the readings are never wrong. You know that."

Ember takes a step back away from the door. Her parent don't catch her listening in. Ember doesn't know what to say. All she knows is this will take some time for everyone to get use to. As least they see that Wade is nice, that's a start.

Wade opens the door the apartment and yells, "I'm home!"

Brooke rushes to her son in blubbering ugly tears and gives him a big o' mom hug. "Oh Wade!! I was so worried! Wahahaha!! You must be exhausted with no sleep and you were out all day!!"

Wade laughs it off but now that she mentions it he is feeling really tired. "It was worth it Mom and I don't regret any of it. Ember was able to tell her parents about not wanting to take over the Shop which they supported and that she loves me back and we kissed... twice." Wade is off in la la land with how much he loved today. Best day of his life, so far. 

Brooke then asks, "Do her parents like you?"

Wade immediately flashes back to Bernie yelling about water and Cinder about marriage and how complicated this is. Wade then says to his mom, "Yeahhh they are warming up to me."

Brooke goes, "Oh good. Lets have them over for dinner soon. I've always liked Ember. I so happy this is working out for you both. Now you got get some rest dear.

"Thanks Mom."

Wade walks into his room. He pulls out the oil lamp Ember gave him and turns off the rest of his lights. The oil lamp is the only light source. He places the lamp on his night stand. The photo strip and movie tickets from his date with Ember are on the night stand too as mementos. He lays on the bed staring up at the lights reflecting off the ceiling. He closes his eyes as thought bubbles appear yet again. His eyes close tighter.

Wade whisper to himself, "Ember..."

Author's Note: All those little references back the the film pulled at my heart strings, hope you enjoyed it too. New Chapter next week! <3

Also soon to be posted on other fanfic sites. Stay tuned!

[yourgoodfriendraichel]

for the ask game, 4, 5, and 38!

OMG, hi! Thanks for sending in an ask <3 My mom once told me everyone's favorite subject is themself, and though likely not strictly true, it's far from unhelpful, and this ask game is great for rambling about oneself. Case in point:

4. what’s an inside joke you have with your family or friends?

Oh, boy, there's so many, honestly. Especially if you count, like, quotes from things that are said in certain situations/have become a shorthand. (In my family, this often includes a ritual where Now Everyone Must Say The Thing.) Unfortunately, being asked about in-jokes frequently throws every in-joke I've ever had out of my mind... OK, here's a couple (with probably-not-very-helpful explanations):

"They'll have a ham.": My dad's side of my extended family are lovely, genuinely deeply kind people, and more or less fun to be around, but they are also... boring? Traditional? It's hard to condense the complexity of a family dynamic into a few words, but needless to say my mom and I enjoy a good few affectionate jokes that are, admittedly, at their expense, and can spend quite some time picking apart that family dynamic and our complex feelings about those folks, especially in the lead up to a big family get-together. In talking over one such imminent shindig, my mother made note that: "Hey... They'll have a ham!" with a joking tone that is difficult to describe, but something about the inevitability of the ham (it was a very reliable Big Get Together staple), the excruciating blandness (literally and metaphorically) of the ham, and the fact that, frankly, I don't actually really LIKE ham, it felt extraordinarily absurd in the moment, and has become a bit of a shorthand between my mom and I for the vibes of that side of the family.

"TWO Dads!": A college meme, brought on by a dear friend, known here as @needsmoreexplosions, who found a unique ebay (or other online resale platform) listing for a nearly-complete, gen 1, my little pony family set (I suspect she could still say which one), except for one notable feature. This set did not have the Mom and Dad pony, but instead, proclaimed that it had "TWO dads" with all the emphasis such a listing can muster. There's a particular spoken delivery of "TWO dads!" that I can't really convey here, which always aspires to recapture our friend's fabulous delivery, but my spouse and I still use "TWO dads!" (and variations for any situation where a noteworthy "TWO [blank]!" appear/are relevant, especially if the fill-in-the-blank is one syllable) when the mood strikes, and we enjoy it thoroughly.

5. what made you start your blog?

In 2012 I was a DeviantArt kid, and there was a notable migration happening in a lot of fandoms from dA to Tumblr (MLP Ask Blogs spring to mind as an indicator of this phenomenon). But even more than that, I was getting really into The Aquabats Super Show, which had little to no dA fan presence. The fans I could find were on tumblr, so after lurking for a handful of months, I made the jump. And, lord help me, I've been here ever since.

38. fave song at the moment?

Oooooh that's really tough. There are literally always so many faves. A song that is new-ish on my radar (my new music intake has slowed DRASTICALLY in recent years), and just heard on a playlist, and is definitely a fave is "Get Famous" by The Mountain Goats.

Thanks again! (The ask game in question)

[lemmilemura]

Watching OOUIL

HEAVY SPOILER WARNING FOR LITERALLY THE ENTIRE SHOW I wrote down anytime I had important/sudden thoughts about stuff. Little warning, there is quite a lot of times I just simp over Simon, but what's new? There will be timestamps so you can go and look what happened to cause that reaction. Also since I was watching in one sitting and it was already past midnight and I was recovering from fever and tired and all that good stuff, towards the end and the last few episodes I didn't write down much. That is also the reason for the many, many typos xD I apologize

Episode 1

00:10 > literally just hearing Simon’s voice is already doing smth to me xD

00:22 > Simon honey I love you but that jacket was a CHOICE

00:50 > not the “I ship it” comment qwq

01:09 > god bronwyn's parents suck

01:26 > I only have my headphones on one ear and like Simon keeps talking and I never want him to stop xD

01:31 > Ah yes, the classic “ew our parents are kissing” teenager trope. just suck it up, Maeve

01:42 > i know, i know, i'm just being nitpicky, but Bronwyn’s phone says she had headphones connected? no she doesn’t

01:52 > if you ever see me smiling that wide while running, please assume I’ve been possessed, I probably have

02:02 > oh my god i can FEEL the sand in Copper’s shoes qwq

02:12 > Wildcats? isn't that like also a meme? like “What team? Wildcats!” idk I’ve only seen it a handful of times

02:46 > even if i hadnt read the book/had no idea what happens I’d still 100% know Cooper’s dad is gonna be an ass

03:21 > Addy is like, so naturally pretty qwq Girlie you don’t have to do all of this qwq I just wanna give her a hug man. And a gun so she can get rid of Jake. I’d help her hide the body too. Sorry, got a lil too into it there xD

03:28 > her outfit is soooo pretty tho I mean c’mon

03:44 > A bad love story? Like a… BAD ROMANCE?

03:47 > “Varsity skank squad” Damn Simon! Really going in on Addy, huh?

03:56 > the “well, you know” should NOT have affected me as much as it did xD

04:08 > Addy, remember that gun I talked about? Yeah, use it on your mom too while you’re at it

04:18 > god Jake is ugly. I’l sorry to any fans of his actor but damn. it really do be the basic white bois huh?

04:23 > you can see how uncomfy Addy is qwq

04:41 > “we’ll be quick” we get it, jake, you don’t last long

05:07 > TJ looks wise? no thanks. TJ being a dumbass? bonus points

05:10 > why does that chick look almost identical to Addy?

05:22 > Everyone wants to fuck a bad boy? Honey I want you. I mean if Simon isn’t a bad boy then what is he?

05:29 > “I’ve got so much dirt his probation officer is gonna bury him in it”? Simoooon, look at you with the metaphores

05:44 > Run bitch, ruuuuun! Or alternatively, “I’m fast as fuck boie!”

06:12 > God how I wish I was Janae right now……

06:17 > My god that shirt has a vneck… don’t be shy, take off the tshirt underneath…

06:39 > Lesbians?? In my tv show?? Fuuuck yeeeah!

06:45 > oh my god he’s wearing an earring… Quick, what’s the gay earring rule again? “Right ear means gay, eft means not gay but expressing feminine side” You heard it here first, folks, Simon is a secret Femboy xD

06:46 > these slowmo shottssssss I am living

07:16 > Simon, honey, that is such a bad idea to just have AboutThat open to anyone who flips open your laptop! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than this

07:21 > I would be looking at him the exact same way, Janae. 

07:27 > The smirk,??????? HELLO?????

07:42 > I’ve said it a lot and i will 100% say it again, but DAMN Simon is just so pretty qwq Perfect actor choice 10/10

07:44 > “She can’t prove it’s me” This school probably has security cameras, yes she’d know it’s you. But then again, if the school did have cameras, they’d have solved the mystery waaaay quicker.

07:49 > I am never going to emotionally recover from this

08:19 > he literally has “cold blue eyes” like in the book and that’s what made me immediately fall for him in the first place!!!!

08:23 > What the fuuuuuuuck :0

08:39 > “There is is… that damn smile”

08:45 > Love that she wrote Avengers but from what I can see they’re all DC. Great job, teach

09:17 > Just noticed Bronwyn’s necklace and damn is it ugly

10:02 > Bronwyn never did make it to Debate…

10:16 > no but why is that kinda cute? the way he’s tilting his body like a kid qwq

10:19 > :0 this is where the book starts!! THE COLD BLUE EYESSSSS

10:32 > Is Simon…. shorter than Bronwyn? Or is it just her shoes?? omg is he shmol qwq

11:02 > The way hes sitting, twiddling his fingers, I just, I’m dying

11:05 > then again, there’s probably a lot going through his head, isn’t there?

11:16 > Bronwyn please just stfu. Avery will not believe you. I know, cuz I’ve read the book

11:27 > Isn’t Bronwyn supposed to be the smart kid? Cuz that wasn’t that smart

11:40 > I love his personalityyyyy so sassy

12:25 > he knew she’d say that… he knew… 

12:33 > You can see it on his face qwq I hate this qwq

12:49 > Eggs instead of a carcrash? Weird choice but ok

13:17 > I mean he probably doesn’t have one so xD

13:18 > Nooooooo, he drank iiiitttt qwq

13:31 > It’s taking this long? How? Shouldn’t it happen immediately? Or is that cuz of the amount of water?

13:56 > Nooooooooooooooo qwq I can’t watch this, I’m just gonna start crying qwq

15:48 > I skipped ahead, I couldn’t watch that qwq Reading it is way easier than seeing it

15:54 > my god jake looks ridiculous xD

16:06 > Looked like he was dead? Honey he is!

16:27 > Keely is so pretty qwq

16:56 > They could 100% pass for a straight couple it’s wild

17:07 > Florence and the machine? Like FFXV Florence and the machine? :0000

17:17 > pffffff

17:41 > Bruh does she look okay? She just witnessed her classmate dying! She probably isn’t!

18:09 > He also has an earring?? dafuq

18:53 > Yeah it was!! Wait til you find out the backstory to it

19:00 > his side profile xDDD

19:15 > you can see the tension between hem, god damn

19:32 > Simon’s baaaaaag :0

20:28 > is he getting suspicious??

20:47 > how does her mother know? she a doctor or smth?

21:01 > god that “Bayview High School” could not look any faker xD

21:11 > Janaaaeeee qwq she needs a hug just as much as I do rn qwq

21:24 > The deathstareeeeeee :0 Janae

21:31 > Reading the book I never cared much for Janae, but actually seeing her so fucking sad and close to tears? It’s hitting

22:10 > QWQ I AM GOING TO CRY

23:32 > “Trauma bonding with Nate” I don’t even know this person’s name but I like their humor xD

26:41 > There is no way in hell they both look at eachother at the same time! That’s bull!

28:05 > That’s just creepy, man

28:40 > Sheetmusic? She plays an instrument besides piano? Huh

30:06 > Across the street you say?

30:24 > Okay, that was funny xD

31:13 > Nonnyyy, the icoonnn

31:49 > She iss!!

33:22 > STANLEYYYYYYY :DDDDD

33:38 > stanley is sooo judging him rn xD

33:44 > I forgot Stanley is his pfp xD

34:21 > she legit looks about 10 years older than him…

34:45 > Nuuuuuu Naaate :0

37:17 > Simon knows everything, Addy. Also TJ is such a sweetheart

39:31 > Ok, so, we watched the first 2 episodes in class a year ago and I fucking hate this part I get so much secondhand embarrassment so I’m sorry Janae but I’m gonna skip ahead

42:21 > Nooo, c’mon Nate! Don’t do this!

43:14 > oooooooooooh?

43:27 > Wait, so if Jake is in the pool he can’t have posted it, so it must have been Janae? If she had to write that my god poor girl qwq

44:43 > how tf did anyone get into the trunk? did she leave it unlocked? C’mon Bronwyn!

Total note count for episode 1: 96

Episode 2

00:37 > his hair is even more of a mess than usual xD

00:44 > Wait is this a flashback to when she cheated :000

00:49 > re really doesn’t

01:02 > please don’t fuck outside on the grass

01:07 > now THAT, is a view I really do not mind ;))))

01:5? > hair police? yours is literally the most basic hair ever, you have no right to talk

03:34 > shweeties

04:19 > is that a food truck right outside their school????

05:09 > yeowch

05:38 > the idea of Simon running a podcast, exposing ppl is actually a really fun concept xD

06:20 > not the contact name being “Asshole” xDDDD

06:55 > :00000000000000 Daaaaaaaaamn

07:36 > Nuuuu, Keely qwq babyyy

08:05 > i assume the teacher was turned around because that was so obvious addy!

08:20 > Bruh’s got a death note xDD he would be the type tho

08:56 > what was the notebook forrrrrrr Simoooonnn

10:00 > how tf did this random officer know that’s Addy?

11:58 > really? cmon now, thats so shitty xD

12:19 > more like Homiecide xD

13:42 > why tf is this mom reading AboutThat? xD

13:53 > HES THE MAYORS KID? Ooooh he got the moooooneeeeyyyy

15:02 > Addy……. qwq

16:09 > that was faaaaaast, coop xD

18:03 > :000000000000000

18:10 > Nooooooo, Coooooopppp qwq

20:52 > ok thats actuall kinda cute qwq can you imagine lil kid simon?

22:27 > Two late, two phone related detentions… interesting

24:07 > jis house is so prettyyyyy qwq I wanna live there!

24:16 > TINY SIMONNNNN OH MY GOD BABYYYYY QWQWQWQWQWQ

25:16 > Simon’s mom is fiiiiiiine, I see wher he get’s his good looks from xD

15:29 > Janaaaaaeeee qwq

26:26 > Simon in a suuuuiiittttt Lord have mercy!

26:38 > those fucking professionbal, model photographs xDDD

26:53 > How did she know where his room is? It’s a very very nice room tho, if I may

27:12 > wonder what that sign says…. also his bed looks nice! really comfy too :)

27:43 > look at that fucking setup man! daaaaaamn

27:50 > why is there fucking steps at the door??? xD

28:55 > can I just emphasize the fact his room looks so nice??

29:54 > yeeeeep he def got his looks from his mom, his dad is uglyy xD

30:11 > it would not, actually. not at all

31:25 > i dont think thats the best conversation starter, Maeve xD

32:08 > he did not go to hell! >:0

32:50 > A DRUMSET? AND A GUITAR????? HELLO WHERE IS THAT CONTENT?????

33:32 > Bronwyn can you stfuuuuuu you’re only making this worse

33:47 > atleast hes honest xD

35:07 > this house is so pretty qwq i am so jealous qwq

35:44 > “the incredible hair” pffff

37:56 > A, and I cannot stress this enough, WOOGA

38:59 > I’m gonna fucking scream he looks so goooooododdddd my lord i will not survive

41:22 > I am still not over that giant fucking picture of SImon in the background xD

42:46 > Girl the only thng you did was cheat ona  fucking test it’s not the end of the wrld!

46:48 > since when are full names used? wasnt it just initials in the book? now this is just evil, initials multiple ppl can have, but full names? C'mon dude!

47:25 > MAEVE??????? WhAT THE FUCK???

Total note count for episode 2: 53

Episode 3

00:17 > Keelyyyyy babyyy I love her qwq

00:47  > shes such a shweety qwq

00:59 > another PERFECT OUTFIT 10/10 MY GOD

01:04 > I don’t even know what to say at this point

01:38 > he diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid :)

02:14 > no you fucking dont!

02:55 > Addy is entering her girlboss ear and I love that for her

03:33 > bruh please just use a hairbrush xD

05:20 > its goin down!! hands are being thrown!!

06:39 > addy needs a hug qwq

07:42 > :0 escandalo!

09:10 > they kinda look like siblings wait i love it qwq

11:42 > the laptooooppppp :0

14:51 > okay Janae’s outfits are also really nice, i get why they were bffs xD

16:08 > :00000000000 MAEVEEEEEEEEE OH MY GOOOOOOOOOD

17:13 > why do literalyl all the parents in this suck?

17:39 > Addyyy what are you doing? 

17:53 > Addy! No!

19:21 > TJ looks like a kicked puppy qwq

21:14 > you didnt say it but your face sure did

22:26 > and another perfect outfit!

22:29 > he just keeps getting finer, huh?

22:47 > Daaaamn Simoooooon! :0

22:56 > he looks so ethereal, like an angel or god of some sort :0

23:15 > omg Simon is shmol qwq shmol bean

23:33 > the rings, the bracelets, the necklaces, LORD HAVE MERCY PLEASE

24:20 > NOT NATE :00000 NOOOOOO

29:17 > i love that Addy is dressing for herself now qwq

30:26 > Nooo, Coooperrrr qwq

31:18 > i know that was meant to be all angsty and stuff but it just looked so weird xD

33:56 > Awwwww, Janaaeee qwq

36:13 > WHAAAAAAAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUCK :000 I mean same, but still, I was NOT expecting that

36:53 > :0000000000000000000 my exact face rn

37:39 > oh yes we are bronwyn!

38:19 > DONT DO IT COOPER PLEASE QWQ

40:45 > There he is again, in that amazing outfit!

41:05 > his faaaaaaaaace oh my god cooper you have a death wish or something?

42:36 > out of all the 4 stories, bronwyns is the most boring to me xD

45:21 > “straight cosplay” pffffff

Total note count for episode 3: 39

Episode 4

00:31 > his outfits never miss! they’re always so good qwq

00:41 > I love that he’S smaller than atleast 3 of the 4 others xD

01:47 > STANLEY! :D 

03:20 > Janae with her hair down tho??????

13:33 > Stanley’s just listening in to all the drama xD

22:30 > how about Addy and Janae just get together? I would not complain xD

24:54 > “actual lizard” pffffff

26:13 > IT WAS JANAE???? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO QWQ

39:22 > Mf looks like a goddamn cryptid xD

41:32 > oh my god hes PISSED you can see it in his faceeee

44:19 > Maaaaaaaaaeve what are you doing????

44:50 > Its momther!

Total note count for epsiode 4: 12

Episode 5

02:00 > if I was sitting in Bronwyns spot I would not be able to focus at all xD

03:20 > Yes addy!!!! Looking good! rocking the short hair!

06:36 > where tf?

13:43 > wtf Cooper???

18:28 > Bronwyn can you not be an asshole for one episode please?

19:02 > MAEVE WAS WHAT???? TO SIMON??? IM SORRY????

21:29 > Bronwyyyyyyyyyyyn whyyyyyyyy oh my god! 

23:52 > they look like such lesbians and I am living for it

33:11 > and ANOTHER perfect fit from Simon, god damn!

39:52 > Please don’t leave Stan behind qwq

Total note count for episode 5: 10

Episode 6

01:07 > janaeeeeeeee that loooook I love itttt

4:31 > “then one summer he got abs” pfffff

04:52 > Janae gave him the idea?????

16:35 > Members of Simon’s what????

21:33 > Awwwww, wait, that’s so cute qwq I knew Janae couldn’t be straight when she dresses like that xD

22:03 > Their dynamic is just chefs kiss xD

22:26 > You can make a move on my anyday xD

33:10 > :0000000000000 NOW THAT IS NOT SOMETHING I EXPECTED TO SEE BUT I AM VERY MUCH WELCOMING IT

36:14 > why are they fucking burning the epi-pen?

37:16 > thats wierdly sweet qwq

37:29 > I know I’m just repeating myself at this point but Simon really does have the best outfits

37:48 > Ayooo? AYO???

38:37 > What if Janae, Maeve and Simon just get in a poly relationship? Problem solved xD

38:51 > His humourrrrr

40:00 > LESBIAAAAAAAAAAAAANSSSSSSSSSSS

40:25 > AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCK YEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHH

Total note count for episode 6: 16

Episode 7

09:08 > The lighting in all of these flashback Simon scenes is just so good qwq

30:32 > i would also 100% be zooming in on that xD

31:43 > that’s boat racism xD

31:47 > again, his humourrrrr top tier

Total note count for episode 7: 4

Episode 8

00:17 > I don’t want it to be over yet qwq I want more Simon qwq

03:06 > that is such a simple signature are you kidding me?

11:29 > I seriously need to calm down xD I can’t keep reacting like this any time SImon is on screen xD

11:41 > THE LIGHTING AND WINDOWS AND FRAMING AND OMG

12:08 > pfff the sheer “what the fuck” on his face xD

15:30 > AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH one day I will just die because Simon keeps looking that good!!!!

16:40 > do I even have to say anything anymore? like at all?

17:19 > “the magic words”? are you for real xD

25:39 > so him having a lizard is a reason you like him?

27:48 > lookatem with his fucking headset xD you know he streams and just annihilates little kids on vc xD

28:16 > wait so… Simon… didnt even want to kill himself? so really Jake is the reason this all happened…

41:30 > WHAT THE FUCK IS GOJNG ON?????

42:28 > So Jake… killed… Simon? Jake is the reason he’s dead, Simon didn’t want to kill himself Jake killed him! Holy fuck this is different than the book…

42:52 > God Janae looks TERRIFYING

43:24 > YEEEEEES JANAEEEEEEEEE KILL HIIIMMMMMMMMMM GET REVENGEEEEE

44:11 > I’m not even remotely sad about this. I’m happy, really

44:21 > I still cannot believe that JAKE is the reason… welp, I know what headcanons I’m making next

44:29 > …

44:42 > YES AND HE SHOULD HAVE

45:05 > I AM ACTUALLY CRYING STOP HE LOOKS SO TERRIFIED NO

45:35 > now you will cuz YOURE OTH FUCKING DEAD

50:58 > Now what if Simon actually didn’t die? Like imagine that, Jake’s plan all going to waste!

Total note count for episode 8: 25

Total note count: 255

Welp, there you have it xD I put them all together because posting one post for every episode or a pair of episodes, eventhough I'd have to split episode 1 in half, would just be too many notifications xD

So here you go, I hope you enjoy my thoughts while watching OOUIL. :D

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #105

Brain Curds are lightly edited flash fiction - practically first drafts - posted daily (haven't missed one yet!) and sometimes written with the express intention of being terrible… but, you know, in an endearing way. Please like and reblog if you enjoy - the notes keep me going!

He's gonna be Frank with you. Read the rest of The Frank Program here on Tumblr!

“The Frank Program is sponsored by HelpYourself. HelpYourself is founded on the belief that everyone deserves therapy, and that it should be affordable for all. No need for insurance - just download the app and your first psycho… psycho… what does that say?” Frank showed the script to Big Mike.

“It says, ‘psychoanalysis.’ Can you even read, man?”

“Yeah, o’course I can read! There’s two vowels in a row, it’s confusin’! Now stop interrupting.” Frank cleared his throat. “All ya gotta do is, download the app and your first psycho-analysis is free with promo code FRANKPRO2024. Share your experience with therapy.”

“Uh…” Mike leaned over. “Pretty sure that part is instructions for you. You aren’t supposed to read it.”

“I know that! I said that because I wanted to ‘boost engagement.’”

“Sure you did.”

“Hmm…” Frank tapped his fingers on the table. “My experience with therapy… do ya think physical therapy counts?”

“No.”

“Well I never got none of that, neither, so I guess it don’t matter. My ex-wife always used to tell me I needed therapy for my anger issues…”

“She was right, you jackass.”

“Shut the hell, up, Mike!” Frank groaned. “How about I just make something up, huh? Like I tell a story about how therapy saved my life or some crap?”

“What, like you got locked in a looney bin?”

“Not a fucking looney bin! For fuck’s sake, Mike.”

“Hey, hey, no shame in it. Half the girls I’ve dated have been to one of those places. They’re packed with babes.”

“I’m not gonna tell everyone I’m nuts just to make the sponsor happy. You wanna do it, go right ahead.”

“I actually have been to therapy, Frank.”

“No shit? What for?”

“Like many folks our age, I grew up not treating my mental health with the concern it deserved. My dad and I didn’t talk about feelings, and my mom was too busy with my older sister and my younger brother. I was the loud one, but I was never heard.”

“That’s deep, man.”

“I’ve been a professional radio host for the last decade. I know what I’m doing. Anyway…” Mike paused to make it easier to cut down. “So when I moved out at eighteen, I was a complete disaster. I couldn’t hold down a job. Roommates always got sick of me. My relationships never lasted.”

“Probably ‘cause you kept dating psychos, Mikey.”

Big Mike ignored that comment and continued. “When I finally got a therapist and opened up to her, it was like I was clearing out the garbage from the back seat of my pickup truck. And you find the craziest junk buried in there, like fast food toys from when you were seven.”

“Really?”

“It’s a metaphor, Frankie. You gotta clear out the garbage in the back of your head so you can fit more people into your life.” Mike took the paper from Frank’s hand. “And that’s why we suggest HelpYourself, the easy way to get the help you need. Download the app today, and don’t forget that promo code FRANKPRO2024 for your free consultation and first psychoanalysis. That’s HelpYourself on the app store. And now back to The Frank Program.” Mike stopped the recording. “See, that’s how you do it.”

“I appreciate the help an’ all, but shouldn’t I say the last part?”

“What, ‘cause your name is in it?”

“Well… yeah.”

Mike waved his hand. “We’ll get it on the next one and cut it together.”

“How many we got left?”

“Seven. Today, anyway.”

“Ugh.” Frank rubbed his face and took the next paper from the table as Mike started up a new recording. “The Frank Program is sponsored by GrapeCrate, the first word in weekly fruit boxes sent right to your door…”

[mally0]

Vanity, Kansas.

“About two hours past Wichita. You remember Big Bertha?”

“‘Course I remember that rusty old bitch. Should we stop by that atomic graveyard this time?”

“We’ll pass it about halfway. We’re gonna be going down closer to Tulsa.”

I crack a skeptical grin, “ You would know.”

“I know it like the back of my hand. If you came to visit me more often maybe you’d know it better, too.”

“I’m coming to visit you right now, aren’t I?”

“Ha! The biggest visit of them all,” he says, grinning like an idiot.

He tells me it’s out west, and a bit south after Big Bertha. So close to the long forty-four that I’m almost offended. Piss and vinegar aside, I’ve driven this track many times. We have, together. Me and Tom. We’re both big explorers, “woodspeople” is what we like to call ourselves.

Not as many woods along forty-four, but there’s plenty to stop and see. The hills on their own are enormous, rolling tundras of wheat. Statistically speaking, even they’re not enough to make Kansas less flat than a pancake. Sayings like that always make me laugh to myself. If you’ve heard people talk about Kansas, I can assure that you’ve been lied to.

Kansas is to me what Missouri is to Tom, the greener grass. After years of dating and failing, I ended up meeting Tom on Tinder. At first, my mom would tease me. She called him a “mail-order husband,” until she saw him. Then, she called him a hunk.

It’s funny, when we first matched one of our biggest bonds was how much we hated our hometowns. We still do, and here me and Tom are moving to his. When he told me his great aunt So-and-so left him a house in her will, of course we had to jump at a windfall like that.

Vanity is closer to the border of Kansas and Oklahoma. This isn’t the first move for me, but it’s the first out of state. I’ve lived in a handful of cities around Missouri, but I’ve been stuck in my hometown for the last five years or so. Tom’s a good thing for me, like that. It’s about time I moved out of my parents house. I’ll be twenty nine this year.

“Does it make you scared, living so far away from your folks?”

I roll my eyes and say “Does it make you scared?”

“What, you moving in with me?”

I grimace at him, “No, us living so close to your folks.”

We make a good comedy duo, when it’s just us. When we’re together that's how it usually is, just us. We’ve introduced each other to our family and friends. It’s weird to plan a date for so long, then lock onto a bigger group than we’re interested in.  We’re a couple of socially awkward deer running around in the woods, and we just happened to luck into each other.

A semi rushes past, sending an immediate gale hammering down on top of Tom’s beetle. The car’s a sturdy old boy though. He’s been through it, his shell’s flaking, but he’s still the toughest beetle out there. I watch in the rear view as the semi wobbles into the distance, little flecks of our car’s clear coat in hot pursuit.

“What’s the weather like there?”

“Just like this. The wind’s always been hell, but don’t worry.”

He goes quiet for a moment.

“You can hang on to me.”

“OK! Moving on,” I bluster out, “Oklahoma, eh? It’s like you’ve got two states at once down there!”

Like I said, I explore a lot. I know every spring, cliff, and lonesome hill in Missouri. I know a good few in Kansas, and I’ve intermittently been here and there for a con or a show. I wish Tom would be more excited to get out there and explore OK, too. The way he talks about it, it may as well be a foreign country.

“You've never even been to a concert in Tulsa?”

“No, it sounds like it costs an arm and a leg just to make a left turn with all the tolls,” he says.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Why haven’t you been more often, then?”

“Well, it’s not that good,” I say.

“What’s so good that it’s worth a five hour drive?”

And, of course, I know what he can’t help but say.

“Other than you.”

I make a fake retching noise, and we have a laugh. I hate that romantic garbage.

“You know I gotta tell ya, since you won’t tell yourself.”

“Pull over for real, I’m gonna puke.”

I wanted to get out and stretch, that’s all. I start hiking up one of the hills. In the winter they would be excellent for sledding, if only it weren't for the highway. In the late summer they were like Elysium on a globe.

It takes a serious, concerted effort from each leg to heave myself up the amber waves. The wind is famous here. That much of the stereotype is true. I stoop at the peak of the hill and see the silhouette of a squall line over the hills, dipping across the highway. My hair whips at my face. A convoy of semi’s teeter past as the dry, wheezy air spins and devils skyward.

The wind turbines loped on at the same pace they always did, despite the gales. It’s as if the world were not complete until those looming needles were pincushioned into the dusty ground. I tell Tom things like that, and he always brushes it off. He’s a far bigger fan of the stinking creeks and the oppressive, moist air of my home.

“This place really is still the dust bowl. You stick around long enough, and you’ll see it.”

“I was here all last summer, babe. It was dusty, humidity is what kills me. The day after it rains in Missouri’s summer is the hottest of the year. You should know, you were there.”

“Well at least we’ll always have to visit your folks. I was laughing it up in that summer rain.”

The squall on the horizon prickled with violet thorns, a hot rush of rainscent loped across our path on the long fourty-four. The bug shook against the buffet, but he held firm as always. Tom sniffed.

“My mom always said big storm cells like that made people show their true colors. Even in summer, people raid the stores. The roads flood real bad here, everything’s so flat. ”

"Yeah, she’s where all that cheesy crap in your brain comes from.”

“Hey now, my mom’s a smart lady.”

“Maybe to you. It’s always storming in Missouri. You know how many funnel clouds I’ve seen try and give my house a kiss?”

“You’ve told me quite a few.”

I always wanted to plant an orchard on my grandma’s land. It’s not a lot of land, and it’s not a very profitable place for an orchard, but there’s a dream in my mind of walking through the flowering trees in a light summer rain just after spring. That’s the kind of rain Tom was remembering. Most sunshowers in Missouri are dreadful because of that heat you know is coming. Countless garden projects dashed against the stones because of it.

I know, realistically, that the orchard would burn up much the same. I bet it wouldn’t even get to its first harvest, and it would be nothing but a muddy field full of little black sprigs. As a child, I had a friend who lived in the city limits. His parents got it into their heads that they were farmers, not ten minutes away from Aldi’s.

“You know, they say that when you tend an orchard it’s a virtue. It’s because only future generations will know the sweetness of that fruit.”

“Babe. Enough.”

He  says, “Yeah, yeah. It sounds maternal though. I think that’s very uncharacteristic and very sweet to hear from you.”

“I don’t want kids. I want those pears.”

We laugh, but we don’t laugh the same.

“Are they that good? You never buy pears for groceries,” he says.

“Most of them are just normal pears. They’re huge, knotty and fat. I’m not usually the ‘eat a straight up pear’ type of person. I just love to be around them. She grew strawberries, which I hated. She grew apples, which immediately soured and went crabby. She grew some impressive pears. There’s a small and special little tree in my Grandma’s garden, and it grew the best damn asian pears you’ve ever had.”

“So you’ve always been picky. What’s the difference?”

“Well the flavor, I guess. They’re more apple-like in their bite, and almost boozy in the taste. You remember that sake we had a while back? With the fancy little jar they brought out?”

“That stuff was really good.”

“It was only fifteen for a serving like that, too. We’ve gotta try and find some. We’ve also gotta get some asian pear jam, if they ever grow again.”

“Jam?”

“Yeah, like jelly.”

“I didn’t know they made pear jam.”

“Well don’t sound so disgusted. You’d eat a pear, right?”

“I don’t know, I’m not really—”

“Pear jam is awesome, alright? You’ll just have to believe me.”

“It seems like a lot of work just to eat a fruit you’re not that fond of.”

“I am fond of them!” I say, a little flippantly. “They’ve always been there. Pears are an inseparable part of summer and fall. I’d have to carry bucket after bucket back to the house and wrap them so they’d ripen. Then, a month or so later, they’d be ready to eat, or dehydrate, or jam.”

Tom’s quiet for a moment, and the car’s getting to be unbearably muggy. Kansas really can get hot, but that’s not Kansas’s fault.

“I’m a little surprised it’s that big of a deal to you. You never let me try any.”

“Don’t you remember? I said everything stopped growing in my grandma’s garden a while ago. If anything ever does though, I’ll be sure to make you try some.”

The broken A/C wheezes out an admirable little breeze. The sunflower road signs pass by, occasionally interrupted by a tractor trailer or a billboard with some hateful slogan. Those aren't Kansas’s fault, and they’re so derelict out in that bountiful wasteland that they seem more like ancient ruins than some warning of slurs to come. In fact, everyone I’ve met in Kansas has been just peachy. They’re far nicer here than back home, where frowning is the state sport.

After another hour of NPR, just as the sun hides behind the hills, the squall line officially crests across the horizon. The cell signal drops, and the cheap little touch screen radio gives us a shrugging emoji.

I love this part. Tom’s a lot of things, but he’s terrified of quiet. Makes a complete mouse out of him. He’ll usually whimper out a few jokes, and we’ll laugh. I’ll give him ten minutes of cold shoulder and he’ll insist upon some big topic that’s been eating him. That’s how it is, he can’t just say the important thing when he needs to. He’s gotta make an appointment, usually about this time.

This time he’s quiet.

I’m almost impressed, so I pretend to doze for a moment. I roll over in my seat, curling up. My head keeps bouncing against the headrest, so sleep’s out of the question. I wonder if it’ll be hard to sleep, living somewhere away from home again. I listen close, past the rush of the car and into the Kansas twilight. There’s no cicadas, no dogs barking. The A/C smells like the promise of beer or fresh bread, hot out the oven at that. Just for me. It’s nice. It’s quiet. There’s a hint of rain, a slight chill.

It’s a little unnerving. So I yawn and stretch til my hands hit the ceiling’s sagging upholstery.

“You’re quiet,” I say. “What’s the matter, nothing on your mind?”

“No. Why, do you have something you need to tell me?”

“No. You usually do and save it for here though. I was kind of looking forward to it.”

“You know me so well.”

I brace for another cheesy one liner that doesn’t come. Just that Kansas quiet.

“Well, I should hope so,” I manage.

“Why were you pretending to be asleep just now?”

I have a little laugh. He’s quiet. Tom’s car speeds on and on in a straight line, towards a purpling sky. I’m sweating quite a bit in that dry, airy car. The vents aren’t much comfort, failing their one job.

“I don’t know, I guess I was waiting on you to ask me something.”

“Something like that?”

“Uh, sure. I guess not. I was just passing time.”

“Right.”

The sea of wheat outside sighs. I crack the window for a minute and stare out, head just past the portal. The wind is still dancing out here, just like it was earlier, and the trip before. No escape from the heat either, since it’s coming from outside. Nothing’s wrong with Kansas.

“Close that, it’s hurting my ears.”

And it does hurt a little, so I close the window.

“You aren’t seeing anyone else right now, are you?”

“Jesus, Tom, no!” I shout. I didn’t mean to shout. I’m just offended at the question at this point. I mean, I’m moving in with him, and he springs something like that?

The radio sputters back on, thank god.

Tom turns it off. I glare at him. His eyes are on the road, a good driver. He’s trying to stare through me without looking at me.

“Look,” he says, “I only ask that because I love you. This is a big deal, and I just gotta be sure.”

“You asked me to move in with you. I want to. So, what, are you never going to be able to fully trust me?”

He goes quiet again. He doesn’t have to say no. It’s the same situation. He wants to, but he’s a big-ass, principled man. He doesn’t let go of the past. He makes enemies. Even me.

I’ve already decided to move in with him. I do not go back on my decision, I’m not insane. I see him white knuckling the wheel. He must be remembering, too.

He must remember how it was his decision to not date around. I was always the only one good enough for him. He remembers that just because he doesn’t usually ask questions that he won’t like the answers to, what he does not know will still hurt him. Rather, he insists that it does.

The fact that I have chosen him now is not enough, and it never will be. He expects the opposite to be enough for me. I see him there, beads of sweat squeezing out from his hairy hands. He’s shaking a bit.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve grown lazy, or overly comfortable. I haven’t been seeing anybody but him for quite some time now. A long-distance relationship is a tall order to fill. Maybe that’s why he works himself up like this.

He’s not budging, so that settles it.

“Tom, I’m not backing down from this. The fact that you still feel this way, and bring it up now is a real dick move. I’m gonna stick around for six months or a year or two, if I want. Then I’m gone.”

His bug’s path trembles in the wind, but it doesn’t stray its course. Tom’s hands are strangling the wheel now.

“Does that make you wanna go through with this less? I could be lying now. Maybe I’ll stay forever, I don’t know. What I do know is that I need my partner to trust me.” I lay my head on his shoulder and say, “I love you. I know you love me, too. Isn’t that enough?”

He screws up his face, deciding. He chooses to say nothing, and turns the radio back on. Save that, it’s quiet until Big Bertha's loom crests the horizon.

“If I ask you to stop at the big ol’ gal, are you going to push me off and be done with it?”

He laughs, “Of course not. I love you, too.”

“See now that’s the most romantic thing you’ve said all trip.”

Big Bertha is a rusting crane, long decommissioned, but it still makes a decent excuse for a tourist trap. Most people are too smart or too boring to fall for those things anymore, but not me and Tom. Big Bertha is up on a bit of a hill, roiling walls of grain all around. The gate attendant is either sleeping or out to lunch. If you and your partner are the adventurous sort, it's a nice romantic detour. If you and your partner are exceedingly stupid, the view from the top is to die for.

“Babe, didn’t you feel the wind shaking the car earlier? You can’t climb that thing.”

“I’ll just hold on tight, like before! Come on, Tom. For me?”

“No way.”

“You can’t stop me, then."

I’m already climbing the chicken wire fence. Tom’s deciding to say nothing. I hop over, a little puff of dust toots up from the ground. Bertha’s corroding form looms above me on a dry, cracked concrete slab. She’s as tall as a wind turbine, and twice as climbable

“Please don’t go up there. If something were to happen to you now—”

I don’t wait for him to finish. The rusty iron spokes running up along Big Bertha are plenty grippy for my feet, but I quickly want to go back for gloves. I’m as stubborn as Tom is in some ways, though. I don’t, and my hands stay the course.

The wind does blow awfully strong in Kansas. I feel Bertha swaying slightly as Tom and the car and the cracked concrete slab are progressively swallowed up by the wheaty sea. I was right, too. All I need to do is hold on tight and be brave to keep myself steady as I climb.

I don’t bother to get to the top, but I do stop and gawk at a little valley I see a ways down the road. There’s a thick fog being kneaded by the wind, I can see it threatening to spill out of the valley. When the wind settles, it will. For now, the wind lopes over it without a care. I was able to fool myself that I had climbed above the squall line, looking at that valley. Up in the air, feet dangling above the clouds.

I kick my feet like that for a little spell, and then I do feel bothered to get to the top. The funny thing is at that point it’s not hard, and the Kansas wind settles down just a bit. Just for me.

I find it easy to love Kansas because it does that for me. It’s a more nurturing place than the swamp I call home. Easier to breathe, easier to feel free. I look down from Big Bertha on the climb down, and I can just barely see a little ‘FOR SALE’ sign on the bob-wire. I don't believe it.

That’s what I rush to when my feet hit the lovely, dusty ground. Of course, It’s not Big Bertha, It’s the land next to her. I don’t know how big an acre is, maybe it’s even the land around her. I’m walking back to the car, where Tom’s waiting in a little huff. I’m daydreaming about buying the land and homesteading a little ranch, or rather, an orchard. I wonder what would grow here, and the answer licks at my face with almost a longing. It’s a sweet little picture, just farmer me and my farmer Tom under Big Bertha. All we’d need is a thresher and we could spin this straw already around us into gold.

“I can’t believe you did that. She’s fit to fall over any day now.”

Now I’m quiet for a moment as the beast groans above. He’s right, but I’m glad I did. What if she falls just as we roll down the hill? I may never see her shape against the sun again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come. I should have.”

I’m still quiet. I’m wondering about some more realistic housing options. I know Augusta’s super cheap. I love Wichita, but that place will drain the very soul from your bank account.

“Babe, look I—”

Now I put a little finger up to shush him. Forceful, yet gentle on his lips. I look at him with all the love I feel for him, right then and there. That’s how it is with me and him. The rain finally begins to fall in Kansas, and the windshield wipers screech across Tom’s windshield. “Hey, you love me. You just can’t stand it. Let’s just get back home this once, ok?”

[ledenews]

Andrea Gump: Living Her Life Like That Box of Chocolates

Sunshine. It might be the cornball way to describe her, but that’s OK because says things like, “Ahhhhh,” and “that’s so sweet.” And mind you, that’s not a reference to a single ray of sunshine. Nope. Not just one. One, in fact, would be disparaging, and that’s because, when it comes to Andrea Gump, we’re in need of the entire circumstance of that interstellar ball of blaze. Oh, and when we’re talking fire – ya know, 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 - that describes this lady’s passion not just for her job with the Army National Guard or for giving children full-size candy bars on Halloween, but way-far beyond those A, B, Cs and 1-2-3s of life. Oh no, her zeal, her intensity – Gump’s fervor – is for life itself, and if you know her, you’re aware there’s absolutely and positively nothing “cornball” about how she goes about her hour-to-hour-and-day-to-day to-do lists. That’s why, in the very near future, Gump will compete for Regional Rookie Recruiter of the Year against folks from the nation’s capital, and from Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Delaware. Her record will speak for itself, and she’ll be asked about her mode of operations as well as military regulations. Pfft. Piece of cake. You’ve heard her on the radio, seen her on local TV stations, and you’ve read about her success in the local newspapers, and Sergeant Gump’s (yes, you have heard that before!) work to reach as many young people as possible on social media has been nothing but impressive. Why? God’s errands. Gump loves to travel with family and friends as often as possible. Did your fellow soldiers make fun of you during boot camp because of your last name? To be honest, none of the soldiers I went to Basic Training with bothered me about my last name. Most of us were so terrified to speak because we didn’t want to be noticed by the drill sergeants that everyone kept to themselves about that kind of stuff. The drill sergeants, on the other hand, they had a field day with my last name. Unfortunately for me, running the area is what I struggled with the most so there was no way I could hide. I immediately became the center of every joke, but I was prepared for that so it didn’t bother me. Some of my drill sergeants — still to this day — joke about my last name on Facebook, and it always brings a smile to my face. It’s all in good fun. I still get jokes to this day from random strangers, but luckily, I look young enough to throw people for a loop and tell them I have no idea what Forrest Gump is. That’s a great icebreaker. I will say, I am just incredibly grateful my mom did not name me Jenny.  How do you prepare your recruits for their Basic Training? I am 100% honest with my recruits, not just regarding basic training, but throughout the entire experience from start to finish. Most recruiters have a negative reputation due to the lies they tell. I am Andrea Gump, and I am a National Guardsman. That being said, I work and serve in the community that made me who I am, and I plan to stay here forever, so I care about my reputation. Lying to recruits about anything – no matter how “big or small” – is WRONG. That being said, I pride myself on my honesty because I don’t want anyone to have a negative experience because of me. As far as Basic Training, I always preface it by saying that it is not a summer camp. It is a training camp for the United States Army, and it is not always going to be fun. Additionally, the Army National Guard is unique in many ways and one way is that in order to prepare our warriors for Basic Training, they attend what’s called the Recruit Sustainment Program (RSP). My recruits attend RSP with me one weekend a month (and get paid for it!) in order to prepare for basic training. These weekends are an introduction to BCT and will get my recruits started and keep them on track mentally, physically, emotionally and administratively while they prepare for their career in the Guard. RSP drills give my recruits an opportunity to start getting comfortable with the terminology and protocols that are part of Guard service—and they will be getting paid for the time they spend at RSP.  We describe RSP as an opportunity to learn the basics of Basic Training so when they get there it isn’t a complete culture shock. There are five phases to RSP, but the three main phases are:  RED PHASE – Your first weekend at RSP is Red Phase. In this intensive training, you will learn basics you need to know right away, like RSP Introduction, Army Structure, Chain of Command, Rank and Insignia, Customs and Courtesies, General Orders, Reporting Procedures, Drill and Ceremony, Physical Fitness, AKO, and MyPay Setup. WHITE PHASE – Depending on the number of months between when you enlisted and when you ship to BCT, the length of your White Phase in the RSP will vary. During this phase, you will learn more about the Guard and more of what you will need to know to succeed at BCT. In addition to physical training, instruction in this phase will include: Proper Wear of the Military Uniform; Army Values, Soldier’s Creed and Warrior Ethos; Employ Camouflage, Cover and Concealment; Tactics, Weapons Familiarization During the White Phase, you will continue to focus on physical training and cover Soldier skills that will further prepare you for BCT. You can also compete for a promotion to PV2 under the Stripes for Skills program. BLUE PHASE – At your final drill before shipping to BCT, in addition to physical preparation, you will cover all the final details that have to be taken care of before you leave. But you can get a jump-start on these items by learning what to expect before, during and after BCT, such as: Inspections, What Every Trainee Wants to Know About BCT, and Final Preparations for BCT. Aside from RSP, I just talk with them and share my experiences. I let them know what to pack, what not to pack, and literally everything in between.  She never plans to leave her home here in the valley, but Gump loves to experience other cultures. Are you really popular in your neighborhood because you’re the “full-sized-candy-bar-lady” on Halloween? I’m not sure how popular I am in our neighborhood due to the full-sized candy bars situation, but seeing the smiles on both the kids and the adults faces makes me so happy. Adulting can be hard, so finding little things in life like that can make all the difference in your day! Oh, and my favorite full-sized candy bar is a frozen Kit Kat or a Take Five (not frozen).  What lights that fire within you? What lights the fire in me?  God. I feel like my life’s purpose is to make a positive impact on as many people as I possibly can. I would pray all the time and ask God to show me my purpose in life. I feel like he answered those prayers when I took this job. It is terribly challenging at times, but it is incredibly rewarding. One of my applicant’s mother recently told me she believes I am on God’s errand, and it was one of the most special comments anyone has ever said to me. I am passionate about what I do and want to help others realize their potential. This job provides me with the space to do that.  Gump is a decorated soldier with the Army National Guard. What cartoon character is your favorite? I’m not much of a cartoon gal. My mom always encouraged outdoor activities more than anything, but I do remember the Powerpuff Girls! I loved how they were always true to themselves while being female defenders who embraced femininity rather than combat it!  Read the full article

[micahthemf]

Why hasn’t this massacre been reported?

Better: Why hasn’t Annie Jacobsen been arrested?

There are several reasons why the massacre of a church at the height of the Sunday morning worship session or the greater tragedy have not been reported by the mass media outlets.

No Victims. Keep reading!

There are victims, all of them were murdered but technically, there are no victims. Murder victims leave bodies, murderers have motives, and evidence is evidence. But the perpetrator here is the CIA. While they may have ceased doing international espionage, they have sharpened their state side skillset. They’ve even partnered with the federal government, held workshops, provide assistance to, and receive assistance from, the FBI, the NSA, and the DEA.

The way each victimless murder occurs is up the CIA officer who assigns the murder. Throughout this entire tragedy, the CIA was utilizing chemical cremation and the victim’s own bathtub to make their bodies disappear. Once the bones are ground, they can be tossed anywhere, they look like gravel.

I actually walked all over my mom, sister, niece and many others at Motel 6 in Decatur. I probably flicked cigarette ashes and dropped a butt on them. Human cremains were the last thing on my mind, I was just standing on gravel. Enough on that for now.

After the body has disappeared, CIA employees or contractors may move into a “hotel” that has been constructed in the victim’s name, social security number, bank accounts, credit cards, etc. The murdered individual never actually dies financially. Depending on the individual and how they were doing financially at their time of death, and what they were doing, or if they had something the CIA needs, the hotels can be occupied by anyone from the actual killer of the hotel namesake all the way to a highly specialized team who are directly employed by the CIA, and have dedicated legal counsel.

I’ve long said, for at least five years now, that the CIA has a hell of a good setup. If they are destroying the lives around you, and you can prove it, the moment you say “CIA” everyone has been told to think of you as paranoid. Everyday folks do the same.

My friend, Jason Rector and I go way back. We may have went for a joyride in his uncle’s vehicle that lasted all night long during the Jessamine Jamboree one year so long ago the statute of limitations should have come and gone by now. Jason and I know each other, know that we can have a good time anytime, anywhere, and not be paranoid or freaked out.

When they started killing my friends, I went to Facebook warning everyone. Jason replied, “When you start talking about black helicopters…” He thought I was paranoid, maybe too high, or just time to rehab. But, I wish he had read. Because he too let them in, and now he’s weird. He and his growing telecom business are now a hotel, the new Jason knows nothing about a joyride that may or may not have ever happened.

If you think warning friends and family is hard, imagine telling people that every word of Prince’s “Sign of the Times” is true and is in part a narrative of the past two years of my life.

When I first started trying to get control of the church and get them out of our church, I copied the media on the letters. They never even asked me a single question.

Some media have called around and asked questions, they have been killed.

Even law enforcement has had losses.

The only way we can get so many on the same page, aware of what happened, and too many for the CIA to kill, is for my Boss to do this thing He’s about to do. Then I have to go to Alphabet Street.

And then… Well they’ll probably screw up the weather forecasts, and have new athletes you’ve never heard of getting all the air time. It’s all about the numbers. That’s my guess, they’ve done it before, that — it’s not really control — it’s just over the top suggestion with reminders, and I know how well the subconscious can think.

I will cover that stuff in the mission23 wiki on github.com. Check out the “Ringing of the Bell” article. That’s what He is about to do!

[asterhaze]

Hi there! Its Week 1 of the Sunday Writeblr Ask-A-Thon! I'm Athena, my question for you is: Have you ever been inspired by local stories, legends, myths and fables and the like?

Mmm, I'm from the outskirts of Appalachia. The legends around here aren't as cool as the "If you see something in the trees, no you didn't." Or "Don't whistle at night." I'm sure there are people where I am that were told that by their parents, but I came in at dusk because that's when the mosquitoes started to come out. I didn't whistle at night because crickets make beautiful music on their own and don't need my help. There were birds, bats, peacocks, vultures, and probably cryptids galore in the trees and none of them scared me because I knew they should be scared of me (actually my mom, but kids are funny that way).

But I was taught many southern things. Like how the leaves turn to prepare for rain, how to step quietly so I could admire things instead of scaring them away, and to ignore the crying babies in the woods. Bobcats scream bloody murder, coyotes howl, and peacocks say "hello", but nothing that is scared of you will sound like a crying baby in those woods. It was something my mother would say offhandedly, like "Remember where our property line is. Don't go off in so-n-so's cow field. Don't listen to the crying babies if you hear them and come in before the sun completely sets or you'll get eaten alive by mosquitoes."

I never heard the crying babies in the woods but, according to the superstitious, quite a few people went missing trying to save those crying babies. When some of them were found, it turns out they had Alzheimer's or schizophrenia and those babies were never real, not here and now, but to them they were. So it was just my mom's way of saying "Please, please, please, stay sane in this horrible world where the reality of babies is only based on how your brain is made. Please, please, please, come home no matter what." and making that concept normal for her in her stressful job.

My grandma also told me that mushrooms bring the fair folk, and brownies, and if I didn't want to be taken away I needed to stomp those mushrooms. In reality, she was scared I would eat them since I had poisoned myself on random tree junk half a dozen times so stomping mushrooms was a better alternative than a dead grandkid. (My mom might be mad). But I grew up, learned better, and I still hesitate when I see those white mushrooms spring up in my yard and talk myself out of destroying nature just for the stomp.

So my childhood has inspired the idea that if supernatural creatures exist, we probably know as much about them as little baby Aster knew about crying babies in the woods and the fair folk or brownies leaving their mushrooms around for me to stomp. Do we really know anything? Just what they think we should know? What makes it easier for us and funnier for them?

I think it also proves that even the silliest things, like mushrooms and lights in the far hills that are obviously porch lights, can become anything when someone we trust to protect us tells us to be afraid.

Thank you again for asking and I hope you enjoyed my answer!