#only thing missing is ms hawes

[queenwhoneverwasx]

Maryland starring Suranne Jones and Eve Best. 

[sexycowpoke]

[Masterlist]

[Overwatch Masterlist]

Mccree Fluff Alphabet

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Well, this cowboy thinks everything of you is attractive... But if he needs to say what he’ll say your eyes. Those eyes are hyonotic and have attracted him since the first day he saw you. He says those are full of adrenaline and perfection. And the way you look at him. Damn. If he could. He’ll stay looking at those beautiful and playful eyes full of passion and love ‘til his last days.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Sometimes it comes to his mind. And he would love to have a family of his own. Especialy with you. He would love having little cowboys or cowgirls all over the house is his only dream. He wants to call his children with cowboys/cowgirls names. Lke Bonny or Cody. He’ll teach them ho to use a gun and he’ll buy them a nerf and a pony. But this doesn’t mean that your future child won’t be a pet. If it’s a dog. He’ll call him Jack Daniels and nobody will change his mind over it. Ever.

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

Ohh~. He loves cuddle as much as he loves his lovely serape (the red “scarf” he wears). Even more. You'll be cuddle in bed. On the sofa. On the chicken table. And when it’s cold you’ll share his serape and when it’s hot you’ll cuddle even in the pool. Everywere and everytime. He’s very romantic and very soft. And if you return after a long day he’ll go stright over you. Take you on bridal stile and take you in your shared bedroom for some confort cuddles. And he’ll never leave you so easly. Only for going to the bathroom. But that’s the only time. Btw he doesn’t mind if your the big spoon when you cuddle and snuggles. And touch hi hair while doing that. He’ll love you even more.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

They’re very romantic. And for the big flirt he is. He’ll take you to a walk on a beach or in a park. Even watching a movie and then both of you sleeping and spooning each other on the sofa or everywhere you were waching the movie. But. At the same time. Your dates will even be when your on mission together. Like. Your fighting some omnics or spying someone. For him they’re all dates. And when you spy and follow someone. For not getting caught. You two end up making out. Like. When the person looks at his back. Mccree will litteraly just pin you on a wall near you two and immediately starts kissing you... And you know what it happens if you weren't on mission👀. Ok I’m out *vaporizes*

E = Everything (You are my ____ (e.g. my life, my world…))

You are my sunshine. You’re like the sun of his earth. The sugar of his sea. The yee on his haw.  You know what I mean. Everything. If he didn’t meet you he would never know what really love is. He can be himself when he’s around you. And he can fell loved after a very long time.

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

As I said before. When you tow made eyes contact for the first time. You where the new supporter. And you already did show some ass while talking to Gabriel when he said you couldn’t help them. While you and Gabriel arguing. Jesse was practing with Genji. And when he hear you two fighting. He turns around. And BOOM. Love at first sight. He also stoped practing and come over you training defending you. Even if you were capable of that. When Gabriel knew that he lost the fight. He tells Mccre to show you the place. He didn’t even had the time to finish that Jesse said already yes and taking you by your hand while showing the place. And you two introduced yourself while he shows you around :)

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

O’course he is. He’s second name indead is gentle. Well. Actualy. His second name is deadeye but... Yeah... You know what I mean partner 👀 

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

He loves holdind your hand. It gives him protection. And he’ll find every excuse to stay close to you. Everyone. Like one time he said “Darling, it’s freezing... Can I hold your hand?”. He doesn’t even care that much about other people opinions. Cause the only things he thinks in this beautiful moment is you. Your beauty. Your future together.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

When he saw you the fisrt he was like “Shit, I’m in love” thing. He was very curios about you at first but when he started to know you well he was always more in love than before.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

Sometimes. Mostly is when other people watch you from up and down. Others are when people are flirting with you. And when it happens he'll wrap hi arm around your waist and pull you closer.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

He has two mods:

This:

And this:

He's very passionate in both ways.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

You said it at the same time. I know right? It happened the same day you two kissed forthe firt time. After you kissed both of you said those three beautiful words full of love and passion.

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

His favourite memory is when he was on a mission. And you where at home. Since you missed him. A lot. You take his hat. That he forgets that morning. And one of his shirts. When he returns he see you on the sofa with one of his shirts and especially with his hat covering your beautiful sleeping face. He immediately takes a lot of photos and then takes you to your shared bedroom on bridal stile.

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Yellow. You reminds him happiness an love. In fact. Sometimes he gifts you sunflowers :)

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

Yes, and a lot. You want something? You already have it in less than a second. He treats you like a queen.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

His favourite non-modern thing to do with you is reading books before going to bed.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

He use mostly "Darling", "My love" ,"babe" and "Sunshine/Sunflower". But he calls you "Baby doll" or "Doll" too 👀

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

Remember when I told you he loves cuddles? Yep. You'll cuddle on the sofa or in bed while cuddling and spooning each other. Talking about what happened the other day.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

When your sad he doesn't know much well what to do. But the first thing he'll do is hugging you and tell you your beautiful and noone will hurt you. If his sad he'll going to hug you from behind. Hiding his head on your shoulder. With one hand your going to though his hair. With the other one your taking one of his hand that are hugging you by your wrist. Telling him that it's fine and that you love him. While sometime kissing his forehead.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

Everything. He just wants to be with you. Indeed he'll talk about what happened this days and other stuff. Obviously. Trying to make you smile.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

He always relax when you play with his hair. Most of the times he relax so much. That after five or ten seconds he's already sleeping on your shoulder or on your nap.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

He's proud of finding you and he loves to show everyone how you belong to. And you know what I mean 👀

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

He proposes while on a mission. You were blessing everywhere. "Darling, please don't leave me now" "O'course I won't love" "If we can get out of this... Together...." "Would you like to be Ms. Mccree?" "*Couches*...I would really like that Jesse"

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

His song will be "Put your head on my shoulder" by Paul Anka slowed ver.

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

O'course. He would love this. Especially after he encountered you. Cause before he didn't even think that he'll fall in love with someone. But then he meets you. And his plans changes.

Z Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

It'll be a dog. Like I said before. A boxer named Jack Daniels. And he'll be like a son. Especially to Jesse.

[This Fluff Alphabet is from here]

[stevesharrlngtons]

34 with roman 🥺

(remember when i talked about a nanny!au? well... here it is. somewhere in an alternate universe...) 

the feel of fingers brushing together by accident

sorry if roman is a bit ooc

You sat at the breakfast bar with Nadia, your arm outstretched creimously on the countertop as you watched her fumble through arithmetic. A bowl of Hershey Kisses sat between you both, crinkled balls of their foil scattered about. Your temple rested against the crook of your elbow as you fussed with the tin, waiting for Nadia to need any assistance. 

“You could be cleaning,” Peter quipped from the sink. 

“You’re the only old maid around here. I have better things to do,” you countered back, as you flattened a wrapper and began to peel it apart. 

“Scrolling through Neiman’s and sleeping ‘til noon?” 

“Precisely,” you looked up to grin at him in time to see him roll his eyes. 

Nadia gave a little giggle at the encounter and you threw her a playful wink. 

Most late afternoons into early evenings looked just like this one. You with Nadia at the counter as she did school work, and Peter wandering on the fringe of your conversations as he tidied and cooked dinner. It had felt strange at first, how quickly you had created such an effortless routine that rarely held hiccups or upsets with the two, who were supposedly notoriously closed off and unaccepting. But, it had seemed to be fate, that you had been the missing gear to their unit that was needed to have everything run smoothly. You were extraordinarily lucky to have earned both their favors, as well as Nadia’s father and Peter’s stringent boss’. 

You rolled a discarded foil ball between your fingers before promptly flicking it at Peter’s head. Nadia burst into giggles once more and your heart swelled at the noise. Peter gripped the sink and turned to look at you. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping her with her homework? Or are the concepts a little too lofty for you?” he snarked. 

“It’s third grade math, Peter,” you scoffed and fell back on your arm causally. 

“I know it is,” 

You huffed and stuck your tongue out at his back. Nadia began to laugh again but you poked her with your Manolo, a silent signal to keep quiet. She obliged, but her lips still held a wide grin. 

It was always a beautiful sight, her smile. A beaming expression that you rarely saw from her father, but often in photographs of her mother. Their upper lips curled the same way, which only widened her plump lips that she gained from her father. Her blue eyes crinkled at their corners and sparkled when she looked at you head on. Her smile was a wonder of the world, and after you informed her of this, the action that used to be next to impossible to achieve, happened regularly. 

“How many times does eight go into one hundred ten?” Nadia asked you, moving her pencil so you could see her long division problem. 

“Ok, c’mon, you got this. Start small, you know how many times eight goes into eleven right?” 

“But do you?” Peter muttered, just loud enough so you would have no trouble hearing him. 

“Quit, dish bitch,” you picked up another foil ball and tossed it at him. 

You heard him chuckle under his breath. 

“Once,” Nadia stated. 

“Great! Now put the one there, and the eight below,” you guided and Nadia did so. 

You both worked out the rest of the problem, and only one short curse word was said by you by the end. You were never good at long division, or math in general, so a worksheet filed with even basic division and fractions was a nightmare to you. Maybe Peter’s jab had some merit after all… 

When you and Nadia were on the tail end of problems, with your phone calculator out and helping on certain equations, the distinct sound of a key entering the front door’s lock disrupted the little girl. 

“Daddy!” Nadia exclaimed, the problem you were both painstakingly working at was immediately forgotten, as she rushed toward the door to greet her father. 

Roman opened the door just as she reached it, compensating quite well for a surprise rogue nine year old jumping into his arms. 

His hair was handsomely disheveled, likely from running his nimble fingers through it during moments of stress in his day. His suit jacket was discarded, the top button of his dress shirt undone, and his silk tie loosened to reveal more of her perfect alabaster skin. His broad shoulders fought the seams of his shirt and you could tell that he had recently run his sinful pink tongue over his plump bottom lip. He looked positively good enough to eat. 

“Daddy is right,” you mumbled, busying yourself with cleaning up the Hershey wrappers to save yourself from combusting over your boss’s good looks. 

“Yes, but not yours,” Peter said, coming over to help you. 

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” you replied with an exasperated sigh.

“Yes, and many have,” he said knowingly. 

You pinched his wrist with manicured nails and he smirked at you. It was no secret the droves of women who lined up to have a chance at landing Roman’s attentions. While many earned an entrance exam, none were asked back. You would sometimes see them with an exaggerated pouts on their lips the morning after as they trudged down the stairs and out the door. You couldn’t blame them for their theatrics or bad moods, however. When Roman Godfrey was on the line, any and all hissy fits were accepted and expected. 

Roman entered the kitchen with Nadia perched on his hip, his jacket and suitcase deposited at the door. 

“Evening, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he greeted professionally, as he sat his daughter on the counter next to you. 

“Evening, Mr. Godfrey,” you greeted melodramatically, something Roman shook his head at. 

You and Roman had never had a strictly employer-employee relationship, but you supposed that’s why you fit in so well in the Godfrey home. Since the day of your interview you were warm, practical, and up front with him and his family. You were nurturing, but firm. You treated Nadia and Roman like you would your own family and friends, and that had made you stick out from the crowd. As much as Roman needed a nanny for his daughter, he needed a friend for himself. He needed a maternal figure for Nadia, and he desperately needed a woman in his life he could trust wasn’t after anything insidious. And you fit all the requirements in spades.

“When will dinner be ready?”

“Twenty minutes, give or take,” Peter replied, peaking into the oven to check on the chicken. 

“I’ll be in my study until then,” Roman replied, as he retrieved his suitcase and then walked back toward his office. 

The sound of the door shutting made you and Nadia sigh. Her little face was void of any more smiles it seemed. 

“Hey,” you reached out and gave her spindly leg a squeeze, “how about we just cheat on the few we have left and watch some TV until dinner?” 

“We aren’t supposed to cheat.” 

“Sweetheart, I promise you that you will never need to do any of this mess in your head again. Calculators are the future -- have been the future! I’m sure when you’re in college they will be implanted in your arm and cheating will be encouraged.” 

“Really?” 

“Maybe,” you shrugged and Nadia crept back over to her worksheet and moved into her seat, “we’ll get your dad and all his scientists right on it.” 

Dinners mainly consisted of Nadia speeding through a book of topics while you and Roman desperately tried to keep up. She was a sociable little girl and always had a story to tell from recess or gym class. She loved playing make believe on the playground, but didn’t love how her peers wouldn’t follow the strict rules she had set up for them. This was often a bone of contention for her, her brows furrowing in frustration as she explained a quarrel she’d had at the slide that day. 

But tonight was different, tonight all she could do was talk about the following day. 

Nadia’s third grade class was going to the Natural History Museum on a field trip and she had been anticipating the trip eagerly for months. Not only because of the normal excitement all children held for field trips, but because this one would be chaperoned by her favorite person in the world: her father. 

You had convinced Roman at the beginning of the school year to sign up to attend the field trip with Nadia. He had hemmed and hawed about it for a week before he reluctantly signed the permission slip and gave it to his giddy daughter to hand in to her teacher. He would never admit it, but you knew that you were the one to push him over the edge into agreeing. 

“This will be one of those memories that will make her smile for the rest of her life. I swear, if my dad had ever come with me on a field trip, I would have never forgotten it.” 

And maybe it was because you had both bonded over absent parents in the past; or maybe it was the look that he often saw on your face when he had a nice moment with Nadia, the look of a little girl trapped behind your eyes, longing for her father to love her like that; or maybe it was because he knew it would make you happy; or maybe he just really believed you. It didn’t matter in the end, because he had agreed and made his little girl very happy. 

“Jenny Krinkles brother had Mrs. Bridge last year, and she said that he said that there is an exhibit where you get to touch all this weird slimy stuff, and I’m not sure why it’s there, but Jenny’s brother said it’s fun! So, daddy, I want to make sure we get to see that, ok? I think you’ll think it’s fun, too,” she prattled on. 

Nadia was too busy reiterating what Jenny’s brother had said about the dinosaur skeletons to notice how her father had become stock still and how his eyes were staring off into space. 

You settled your fork down next to your plate and watched him with a worried expression as his jaw tightened and his eyes bulged. 

“Are you alright, Mr. Godfrey?” you asked quietly, in a hope to not startle him. 

Roman’s stare switched over to you in a mechanical way, his lips formed a hard line as his eyes bore into your skull. 

“Daddy? Are you feeling sick?” Nadia chimed in, now noticing her father’s strange mannerisms and paling complexion, as well. 

“Yes, I-- I feel fine,” Roman dropped his silverware with a soft clatter onto his plate, “I feel fine.” 

You just nodded, but ducked to catch his gaze as he looked away. You wanted him to see your concern and know that you were only there to help. 

“Are you sure? You can’t be sick, you’ll miss the museum, daddy and -” Roman cut off his daughter before she could spiral. 

“Nadia, I’m fine. I am, but… something has came up at work last minute…” and he didn’t need to finish his sentence, it was clear what he was getting at. 

Nadia’s little face crumbled into pure anguish as she burst into hysterical tears. She pushed away the remnants of her dinner and fled the table without a word. While this reaction might have looked like an exaggeration to an outsider, it made sense to you. Nadia rarely got to spend one on one time with her father, it was why she was so reluctant of your hiring and why she sprang to action the second she heard him come home. She loved her father almost to a fault, and when his promises fell through (which they often did) it hurt her a thousand times over. She wanted her father’s attention so desperately and got it so rarely. Not to say that Roman wasn’t a good father, he was just a busy one. A busy single father running a multibillion dollar company. 

Roman called out weakly for his daughter, but the resounding thud of her door being slammed was louder. 

“Fuck!” he raged, pounding the heel of his hand to the table top, causing the dishes to quake. 

“You couldn’t push it off for one day?” you admonished. 

“I don’t fucking need this from you, too.” Roman snapped viciously. 

“I’ll deal with you later,” you bit back, as you took the napkin from your lap and threw it on your plate. 

“You’re not my fucking mother.” 

“And thank Christ I’m not,” you spat back at him, before you ran up the stairs and after Nadia. 

After over an hour of coddling the sobbing nine year old and snuggling her to sleep, you carefully left her under thick blankets and in the comfort of her Barbie night light, and went to find Roman. 

Unsurprisingly, you found him in his office, one a desk lamp illuminating the dark room. His tie had now been completely abandoned and two more buttons had become undone to reveal the ribbed undershirt he wore. Roman held a cigarette and a tumbler of scotch in one hand, and his forehead in the other. 

“What’s the damage?” he asked in a small voice. 

You walked slowly into the room, “She thinks you hate her.” 

“Fuck.” 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you stood in front of him, “She’s an emotional little girl. And you bailing on her constantly doesn’t help.” 

“So, you’re here to give me a fucking parenting lecture? Because if that’s your goal, I think I’ll pass,” Roman replied with a scowl. 

“But I’m so good at lectures! Can’t you just humor me?” 

You saw Roman’s tense expression falter a bit at your banter, which was silent permission for you to go sit on the corner of his desk. 

“You need to remember your priorities, Mr. Godfrey. Work is work, and I know it’s important to you, but your daughter should always take precedence,” you said. 

Roman was so tall that while you would be looking down at any regular man in a desk chair from your perch, you were eye level with him. In these moments when Nadia was away and it was just the two of you in his office; him in his chair and you firmly planted on the desktop; it was easy to forget the outside world existed. It was easy for you to forget a lot of things when Roman was around. 

“I work so I can give her the best life possible. If that isn’t showing her that she takes precedence, I don’t know what will,” Roman argued, before he gulped from his tumbler. 

“What a boring, easy answer to give.” 

“It’s the truth.” he griped.

“Maybe it is, but it’s not the right answer.” 

“Yeah? Since when was this a test?” Roman scoffed. 

“Since the minute you had her. Parenting is always a test,” you shrugged and Roman let out a humorless chuckle. 

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth…” 

You both let out twin sighs. Roman took a drag from his cigarette before he looked at you. The way he looked at you when he felt weak, helpless and in need of guidance. He had once told you in confidence (and many sheets to the wind) that you were the only person in his life he felt comfortable being vulnerable with. 

I don’t know what we would do without you. I don’t know what I would do without you,” he had slurred as you guided him to the master bedroom. 

You still hadn’t forgotten how the weight of his body around yours felt, or the way he had stared at your lips just a few moments too long, or his musky cologne that had embedded itself into your pores for days. 

“You’re smart, Mr. Godfrey. You’re gonna pass whatever messed up test raising a kid is. You just need to apply yourself and get your priorities straight,” you nudged his shin with the tip of your heel, much like you had done to Nadia earlier, “Daughter first. Work second.” 

“It’s not that simple…” Roman said. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. 

“Since when is anything simple?” 

There was another lull between the two of you, and you were suddenly incredibly aware of how short your skirt had become from your seat. You tugged the sides down your thighs the best you could. You didn’t notice the yearning look Roman gave you as your painted fingers ran over your nylon covered skin. When you looked back at him, his eyes were once again tied with yours. 

“How do you know all this?” he asked, lifting his chin gently. 

You let out a deep sigh, “I just watched my parents do all the wrong things, so I can only guess the opposites are right.” 

“Leighann seems like she turned out all right,” he replied and you smiled. 

Leighann, your younger sister, had been reared by you and you alone. Your parents had fucked off for most of her childhood and it left you to take care of her. Roman of course knew this, as it had come up on your application. He had a knack for remembering important facets of your life that always made your stomach twitch with affection. 

“She did, didn’t she? So, you better take my word for it and start getting your act together. You don’t want her to turn out like me, do you?” as if to prove your point, you stuck out a hand and wiggled two fingers for Roman to pass you his cigarette. 

He looked at you with an amused expression, but did so anyway. He held the smoke by the filter and you took it carefully. When you brought it to your lips, you could taste his fingers and his skin. As you blew out the smoke in a smooth stream from your puckered lips, you watched as Roman’s smirk grew. He widened his legs and reclined back in his seat to take you in. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about grabbing your boss by the wrist and popping his fingers into your mouth, but the way he was looking at you was so primal and seductive, you couldn’t help it. 

You motioned for him to take the cigarette back before your mind talked you into doing something you would regret.  

Roman leaned forward to take back his cigarette, his elbows coming to rest on his knees. 

“I can think of worse people for her to end up like,” his voice husked. 

As you passed the cigarette back to him, you felt the light touch of his calloused fingertips against your own. You hoped Roman didn’t hear the way your breath caught in your chest or the small shiver the touch gave you. 

Roman made a show of taking the cigarette back to his plush lips, setting the filter between them and sucking deep into his lungs. All while his green eyes watched you with purpose. 

“You taste like cherries,” Roman said as smoke billowed from his lips. 

Your thighs pressed together on their own accord to silence the aching between them. 

“So, what are you going to do about the field trip?” you changed the subject without acknowledgment. If you had, you knew it would end up with you on your knees and Mr. Godfrey’s cock in your mouth. And as much as you fantasized about it, you really loved your job, and you couldn’t let your sexual attraction to your boss ruin it.  

“If it was Friday insead of tomorrow, I could make it work. But…” 

“Then you’re making it up to her, y’know? This weekend: daddy-daughter day. No but’s about it. You will spend the entire day with her to make up for being an ass about tomorrow,” you chided. 

“I can do that,” Roman nodded. 

“Good, because I’m serious, Mr. Godfrey. She will remember this moment, you need to outshine the heartbreak with a day of happiness.” 

“Ok.” 

“If you schedule anything for Saturday or claim you are needed at The Tower, I swear to God that I will march down there and force you home myself, got it?” you said, standing up, just barely able to hover over him now. 

“I’d love to see you do that,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Hardy har har,” you waved your hand flippantly, before you began to walk back toward the door. 

“Wait,” Roman called, “what about tomorrow?” 

“What about tomorrow?” 

“Who's gonna chaperone?”

“Oh, I will,” you said with a shrug, “gives me another opportunity to piss off all those stuck up private school moms anyway.” 

Roman’s smirk morphed into a grin, “They’re just jealous.” 

“Don’t I know it.” 

You smiled at him one last time before you started to exit once more.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” you turned to see Roman had stood from his desk and was standing only a pace or two away, “I-- well, thank you. I want to say thank you.” 

“It’s my job,” you laughed good naturedly, hoping to shuck off the tension that had begun to build again now that he was close to you.  

“Still,” he said sincerely, inching nearer, “thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, Mr. Godfrey,” you peered up at him with wide eyes as he towered over you. 

There were his eyes darting to stare at your lips, there was his delicious cologne infiltrating your senses, there was his radiating warmth pricking at your skin and erupting goosebumps across your neck. 

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes?” 

He seemed to be battling with something, his mouth opening just to close again. His brow furrowed briefly, before relaxing once more with a sigh. 

“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

You ignored the supreme disappointment that quelled in your belly as you gave a strained smile. 

“Good night, Mr. Godfrey.” and with that, you left.

feedback is always appreciated 

[rogucs]

𝚁𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴 —

―  priscilla quintana  :  she/her  :  cis woman  :  marvel  — a darkness is coming for us all . let’s hope ANNA MARIE is ready for what is to come . to the eyes of the world they are known as ROGUE , whose allegiance is pledged to the X-MEN . rumor has it that anna is 28 and are known to be quick-witted , but let’s not forget they can be pretty guarded .

HEY, you nuggets. I’m so excited to be here and introduce my menace of a girl! But first, hi, I’m Olivia, I’m the OG menace who will write her. I’m Olivia 23, I live in Germany and I use that as an excuse for all my bad writing moments. I pretty much live at work so I’m constantly tired but never too tired to yell about fictional characters. Anyway, onto my main squeeze and favorite copy and paste girl, Anna Marie! The FOX X-Men movies where my favorite thing as a kid but Rogue will be mainly comic based since I love my southern little comic-origin firecracker.

— BACKGROUND

―   Anna Marie was the only child of Owen and Priscilla who got married at an early stage of their relationship that quickly turned dysfunctional. The couple started a nature-loving commune in rural Mississippi which became their focus in life rather than their daughter. However, their true fascination wasn’t nature but much rather native american mythology.

―  The commune was obsessed with another realm called the ‘farbanks’ and attempted to connect with it. During one of those attempts, Priscilla ‘went missing’, leaving Owen to raise their daughter alone. However, it turned out to be a harder task than expected, earning Anna Marie the nickname of “Rogue” and putting her aunt Carrie in the picture.

―  Due to the grief of losing her sister, Carrie became a very strict guardian which only became worse when Owen became absent from their lives. Unable to live in her home any longer, Anna Marie eventually embraced her nickname ROGUE and ran away from home.

―  Finding help in a disguised Mystique, the girl was taken in by the Mutant for shelter but the promise of a quick rest turned into a shared life. Meeting Irene Adler, Rogue eventually discovered their true identities but decided to stay with them. It was the happiest she’s been.

―  And then she started seeing Cody who became the trigger to her powers. Kissing the boy ignited her absorption abilities, putting him in a lifelong coma while forcing his memories into Rogue’s head. Confusing and scared, she was chased from home by the people who heard about the incident. 

―  It was at that time Rogue began concealing her skin and while her guardians attempted to help her control her powers, nothing worked, making Rogue feel lonely and angry. Thus, she joined the Brotherhood and eventually fought Ms. Marvel which ended up with Rogue permanently absorbing her powers and memories.

―  Haunted by another presence in her mind, Rogue was losing herself and reached out to the one person everyone least expected - Professor X. Against all odds, her cry for help was accepted and she was invited to join the X-Men.

―  It wasn’t an easy change and many didn’t trust her but living at the Mansion changed a lot of things for her. She’s now loyal to those around her and while she does still hold a fondness in her heart for some which her friends would call their enemies, she’d like to believe she’s on the right side of history.

— ADDITIONS

Queue Mc Hammer’s “U Can’t Touch this.”

Wants to be lowkey Grunge but is highkey Grunge

Southern af. Can I get a Yee-Haw?

Big Beauty-Queen Hair. She could hide some things in all that volume. It’s full of secrets.

Needs a hug...or like, 500.

Is looking for volunteers who’ll let her practise her powers but there aren’t many around cause her tOUCH is OUCH.

Can fly. Weeeee. Thanks Carol. She also has enhanced durability, is stronger and faster. All her other skills depend on who she high-fived without a glove on.

If you have that sweet sweet trauma? Just ask nicely and she might as well suck the memory of it straight out of you!

Southern belle with the title of sassy Queen.

[swearronchanel]

the durrells 4.05

FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WATCHING

I’ve been visiting Ireland for the weekend so I had to wait till it went up online

I already saw the preview for next week aka my actual death but let me ((try to)) focus on the now

Ok Spiros good morning 👀

Corfu town! I loved it ugh😭

“I know things” TELL EM LOUISA 😂

“The weasels sat on my face” LMAO STOP

“There’s no romance” SO MAKE SOME SJKSKS LMAO GOD THE SEXUAL TENSION PHYSICALLY PAINS ME, just kiss (at least) already !!!

*sings in the key of one last time from Hamilton* MARGO DURRELL is GOING HOMEEEE

How delightfully European ~ I love it

Basil is really getting it with Demitra like what the fu*k LMAO how do I get with someone way hotter than me??

The King is coming

“It has been said I’m a bit of a princess” LOUISA LMAOO I LOVE YOU QUEEN*

LES LMAO shut up

the Hitler youth omg .. can’t laugh since we know how evil hitler was

Murder on the orient express 😂 love it

no seriously I love this Lmaoo

Every time Leslie speaks to someone I have to brace myself for some dumb shit

Spiros’ mom 😭 now I understand him more

But ugh getting with Louisa is an exception! This is between LIFE AND DEATH (MINE OFC)

Now Basil is like “ brb gotta blast”

LOUISA AND SPIROS PLAYFULLY DOMESTIC 😍😍😍

“They say cooking is like making love” STOP TEASING ME SIr!! IT’S RUDE

SPIROS IS IN THE APRON AHH

ISSA NEW KINK?? 😉

Keeley Hawes’ cringe >>

Queen of facial expressions

“Spiros really does have his own room” UNFORTUNATELY

“I want him so badly” UGHH WE KNOW AND WANT THE SAME SKSKKSS

“Look at my track record” LMFAOOO FELT THT

A FOREIGNER DOESNT COUNT LMFAOOO GOOD TO KNOW

“English the most important language in the world” Leslie sounding like he’s from a racist small town in middle America LMAOOO JKKK

MS MARGO SNAPPED JUST LIKE LOUISA

Corfu feels like home, it does and I’m so sad

Lugaretiza doesn’t trust them😂

I’m really half way through this ep at midnight like I don’t have to be up at 4am for my flight back to London

Gerald’s Zoo😭 pure

“Proud of you puppet” THE BRITSH BRITISH JUMPED OUT & I loved it

FUCK LOUISA KNOWS SKSKKS

BASIL YOU BETTER SWIM BACK TO ENGLAND RN

Living for Florence and Louisa’s gossip

“I have a secret ingredient, Mrs Durrells” YA REALLY JUST WANT TO SEXUALIZE EVERYTHING BUT NOT LET THEM HOOK UP UGH WTF SIMON LMAO

I’d love to be on the train with Margo 😂 we’d be cracking up together

A WOGGLE (?)

The water ugh 😍 I miss the sea

“Assuming it’s a she” LMAO it’s what we all thought ok

DARE SHE SAY THAT bc we wish that were true

Poor Basil tho damn this sucks but it is what it is

CONTAGIOUS PATIENT LMAOO

HE’S GOTTA BE DTF THEN

I KNEW IT AH, GET IT MARGO LMAO

YAS GIRL

the lemur in bed with louisa😂

I miss Larry too 😭

“You’re my planets” STOP, I love you mummy Louisa 😭😭

ANIMALS ARE TOY PEOPLE ? LMAO what is Leslie smoking to make him say these things 😂

LITTLE LAWRENCE CALLING LOUISA MOMMA STOPP😭

Ofc Larry would call Hitler a little shit

Louisa sweetie, WHY WOULD YOU GO OVER THERE?! THIS CANT END WELL

men ain’t shit, but we love spiros

LOUISA SNAPPED THO SJJSJS

WE WISH SPIROS WASNT SO HONORABLE BUT WE RESPECT IT

Greek color guard over here 😂

OH SHIT SPIROS COMING HOME

FUCK SJSKKS IM NERVOUS LMAO

I love the Greek pride tho😂

YOO A SWAZTICA STOP WTF BOYS

Basil is worth a risk skskks

MARGO!

THEY DEFF HOOKED UP IN THE TRAIN LMAOO

DOG FACED PIE LMAOO

Aww fireworks

“We enjoy confusion” I love Theo 😂

Ugh don’t tell himmm

I knew she would but still I wanted to believe

oh noo

SPIROS WILDING

Shit Basil really ate that knuckle sandwich 

“I can never forgive you” that shit HURT

like it hurt ME, imagine Louisa??

HOW CAN IT JUST END LIKE THAT

Just kiss and make up pls😭

HOW IS THERE ONLY ONE MORE EPISODE EVER? I -

I have no more words just keyboard smashes and tears 😭😭

[thewebcomicsreview]

How did you get enough confidence in your work (especially you first chapter's story) to start working on it to publish? My main problem keeping me from working on DRGN is getting halfway through what I think is a good idea, only to lose confidence in it and start over. The pressure is especially bad in regards to writing the first chapter, seeing as that is my chance to put my best foot forward. I'd love to hear your advice on how to gain enough confidence to work on it for real past the script

Two years after you finish the first chapter of DRGN, you’ll probably hate it, because you’ll have learned so much by doing it, and your current stuff will be better. But that’s okay. It’s fine. Lots and lots of webcomics have rough starts because the creator didn’t know what the hell they were doing. Legend of the Hare’s first chapter is full of weird dumps of exposition that never matters, and the tone shoots way darker than is appropriate because I hadn’t figured out I wanted. Peggy is introduced setting a rabbit on fire and ends up being played for comedy mostly after that. Or hell, lots of great webcomics open weird. 

Narbonic is, IMO, the greatest webcomic ever made. The first few months of strips are almost completely illegible 

MS Paint Adventures, the biggest hit webcomic since Penny Arcade, starts with utterly stupid trash

And while a lot of popular webcomics weren’t that bad when they started, stuff like the cool experimental panel layouts Octopus Pie became known for are completely missing from earlier strips, etc.

And Gunnerkrigg Court originally drew Annie with a weird-ass trapezoid head for reasons that escape me

We try things. Occasionally they even work.

Hell, some artists even lean in to that experimental fail early fail often mindset. Carlos Ruiz does all sorts of crazy shit on his own projects, but it’s because he’s so experimental that he comes up with amazing ideas like this Legend of the Hare CSS climax. 

So, will DRGN have all sorts of problems and not be the perfect masterpiece that exists in your head? Yes. That’s life. But you can spend two more years hemming and hawwing about making it one day, or you can just go fucking do it and fix it later as you improve. Get it out, send me a link. I’ll review it while you make chapter 2 and you can use that feedback and your own learning in chapter 3 

Just fucking go, man, and accept that it won’t be perfect and that nothing is. If it really, really, really sucks you can just redo it all later once you’re good.

Like Kiwi Blitz did. You’re not getting married, man. You can always just try again. 

[ithacamafia]

Yule Shoot Your Eye Out, III.

Another year, another holiday playlist from Matt and Kevin!  Just like seasons past, when we brought you tidings on the original “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out” -- or the cleverly-titled sequel, “Yule Shoot Your Eye Out, Part II” -- we close out 2017 with another 20-tracks of sleighbells, snow, and cool yules.  

Without further ado, I’ll let Matthew take us away: “Kevin.  I think I may have told you this before, but I've always considered the first time I saw this Corona Christmas commercial as the unofficial beginning of the Holiday Season. Don't know why - but it's true. This year marks the first time that was in the other room, here sitting at my desk, and just hearing it activated that thing within me that launches my spirit into holiday mode. That lone whistling of Oh Tannenbaum... it just triggers something in me - like when Reggie Jackson has to kill the queen in The Naked Gun. 

‘I. Must. Be. Jolly.’ ‘I. Must. Be. Jolly.’

I know that we've been down this road a few times before - and that many of the standard voices (and perhaps all of the standard songs) have been heard. On top of that, you're busy with a bi-coastal lifestyle that I'm sure is pulling you in all the different directions a guy can be pulled in. So, I propose to you a NO PRESSURE holiday music update mix. No need to be clever in your presentation - like you can help it, I know - we just make sure that each other are aware of any songs/versions we may have missed in the past iterations of this mix. 

So here: Yule Shoot Your Eye Out, A Holiday Mix: Part III. 

I've decided to start this mix with the same song that kicked off our first one. When you picked it then, I challenged that anyone not named Bing who chose to sing this song had to have some kind of chutzpah - you know, a brashness, an audacity... guts to take on a classic. You want brashness, audacity and guts? I give you Sharon Jones and The Dap-Kings and their take on White Christmas. 

Hee-haw and Merry Christmas, buddy.”

(Liner notes continued after the break...)

Matthew, 

Nothing could make my time out west go better/faster/stronger than hitting the mix links with you.  HOLIDAY mix links, at that.  Ho.  Ho!  Ho.  When I left the house at 4am this morning on the way to the airport, rest assured that the “Holiday Traditions” station on SiriusXM was playing.  And you damn well know it was probably Wayne Newton or Bing or one of the many, many, many Christmas songs that we've heard ten thousand times before (yet always enjoy that 10,001st listen when it comes on the radio).  

That's part of what makes The Holiday Song so indelible.  Whether it's an old rendition, whether it's a breathless Sharon Jones version -- or whether it's a new song that still sounds like an old song -- it feels familiar.  It feels like home.  It feels like Christmas.  All over again.

Which makes this selection hit all the harder: "Christmas All Over Again" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Kev,

Sharon Jones into Tom Petty had me initially scrambling to find a song from another recently departed artist... I quickly realized though, that is not a road that we need to go down. After all, Christmas is a time to focus on more positive things. I'm not saying that we can all take December off and pretend that our country isn't going to hell. I'm just saying that Christmastime is a time where we can all say, "Man, there are so many things to feel badly about, I sure as shit am going to make sure that I appreciate the things I have to feel good about. The President might be leading us all down a dark hole, but at least I have my family... and this fireplace... and a candy cane... You know? At least I have Ms. Kelly Clarkson."

I have never made excuses for my Kelly Clarkson affection and I'm sure as hell not about to start now. She's alive and well and she's bringing all kinds of joy with this little number. Here's "Christmas Eve" by Kelly Clarkson.

Kelly Clarkson is not someone you ever need to make excuses for, Mack.  Definitely not with me.  To this day, I maintain that "Since U Been Gone" is one of the greatest pop songs ever written.  The sashaying, swaying rhythm of this tune is tops.  Solid pick.

I'm slowing down a bit and handing things off to a gentleman who I've recently come to have a much deeper appreciation of.  I always knew he was a talent, and an unrivaled humanitarian -- but aside from a few catchy tunes, I didn't listen to much of his musical catalog.  Thankfully, Spotify allowed me to remedy that situation.  So let's bundle up by the fire, turn the light low, and relax to the hopeful, heartful stylings of Harry Belafonte.  "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."   

=====

Well bud, you know I’m fine with slowing it down a bit. I’ve long voiced an appreciation for those more pensive Yuletide moments, where only the perfect fireside song can be your soundtrack. Of course, Harry Belafonte hits all the right emotional and melodic notes. Nice pick. 

I’m going to stay in this same groove, and I’ll keep the artist classic too. Like Belafonte’s I Heard the Bells, this one doesn’t go out of its way to hit you with anything too big. Nope, we’re happy at this point to just have classic voices delivering careful interpretations of songs to light our way. 

Here’s Rosemary Clooney doing her best Charlie Brown with “Christmas Time is Here”. 

Sigh.

Being stuck out here in the west and having skies literally filled with flames instead of snowflakes (although the ash is a fairly convincing simulacrum), makes the season tough.  I know Rosemary presents a convincing case for why Christmas time is here... but, honestly? 

I just haven't been feeling it.  

Then a friend of mine reminded me that Christmas is something different to everyone.  It's this whole collection of little things all smushed together, each part forming the heart of "Christmas" for each person.  You know, like Voltron.

Am I wearing short sleeves and sweating in December, Matty?  Sure.  Am I resigned to catching those tiny little ash-flakes on my tongue, and stuck making angel shapes in the charred remains of the Los Angeles hillsides?  Yes.  

But hey, maybe that's What Christmas Means To Me now.  

Just like Stevie Wonder said. 

Phenomenal choice... that song is so great. Simple. Classic. 

And I hear what you're saying, about how a lot of little things together form what Christmas means to each of us. It's like the thing that I was saying about the Corona commercial... or how I just know that some night this month I will stay up late watching It's A Wonderful Life and end up crying unashamedly on my couch. Or how for some reason my family always has a Creme de Menthe pie on Christmas. All those little things. And each year, the things from before mean more and there are a few new things that get added. 

I don't know how many Decembers in your lifetime are going to feature ashy snowflakes, but I'm quite sure that there will be some things that stick with you after your December in LA. (Please note my refusal to reference this month as your first December in LA.) California has a lot to offer, I'm sure. And for nine months out of the year, the weather there is head and shoulders above anything we see up here. The late Fall in the northeast though? This is Christmas Country, my man. The crisp air. The occasional snowflake. A proper sweater. Ain't nothing like it. 

I'm sure you miss it. Still though... this is all part of your Christmas evolution, right? So as you continue to develop what Christmas means to you,  please (oh please), won't consider the benefits of a Holiday in LA (Band of Merrymakers).

Confession time: I miss sweaters the most.  

Here, it's all short sleeves for outside then sling on a sweatshirt for inside because the buildings are as iced cold as Frosty.  I yearn to wear a sweater soooooo badly, but a good sweater is not something you can just throw on and off willy-nilly.  Unless you’re an animal.  

So yeah, I guess you're right.  I'm just going to have to be resigned to the fact that this December -- this HOLIDAY in LA -- is an experience that I must learn to embrace.  I mean, they've got the decorations, they've got the lights, and they've even got the Santas... Hell, I'm going to a Christmas Cookie Decorating Party tomorrow -- that's how into the season everyone out here is... 

But I'll be damned if I don't miss seeing my breath.  Or sitting by a fire.

And until I can go home for the holiday proper and stick my slippered feet underneath the tree to hand out presents, I'll just have to make sure I do everything within my power to simply have a Wonderful Christmastime (The Shins).

You can do it, bud. I mean - think of how many great Christmas movies were shot right there in California. You've got Nakatomi Plaza right there! Bedford Falls is Encino! 

My pick is a song that we've heard before. I'm on the record with it being one of my faves. I'm picking it here because this version always feels very cinematic to me. It feels like the beginning of some holiday in New York, romcom. You know, the opening credits scene... the one where Tom Hanks or somebody is walking home through the city with a bunch of oversized bags and packages? There's a dusting of snow so he's bound to slip and drop something and then drop something else when he picks up the first thing. Sure the song has a few lulls in it, but that just opens up space for him to chat with the friendly newsman who will later provide him useful information on the whereabouts of the woman. You know the woman! The one who he heretofore has had a very adversarial relationship with but has just realized that she's been shielding a heart of gold behind that hard as nails exterior? It's the beginning of that movie. 

It's got two voices that, for me, are what Christmas is all about. It's got it all. Christ, this song even has some bona fide Pennsylvanians!

It's Go Tell It On The Mountain by Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby with Fred Waring and his Pannsylvanians.

I love that flick!  

Especially the part 2/3rds of the way through when he makes some sort of romantic/charming gesture that goes completely tits up, and now she's wicked angry and/or upset with him.  So there they sit -- in their respective apartments -- trying not to think about one another.  Him, curled up with a blanket and eating a pint of ice cream while losing his sorrows in a comforting Christmas flick.  Her, on a fifth bottle of beer (judging from the empties littering the floor around her), just bounding a rubber ball off the wall as her trusty dog watches with a forlorn look on that shaggy face.

A classic.  How will they ever get together?  How will they get past this seemingly insurmountable gulf between them?  They're like oil and water... and what sort of future could oil and water ever have together???

Might as well just stay in, listening to Ray Charles and Betty Carter, because Baby, It's Cold Outside.

Kev, Ray Charles sounds great. Betty Carter sounds great. The arrangement sounds great. But it's 2017, bro. And while I hate to double up on a song... I feel like a more appropriate version may be called for here. 

Let's give Lydia Liza and Josiah Lemanski's update a listen. Here's Baby It's Cold Outside.

Matty.  

Gotta come clean here: I was 50/50 on whether I should just turn the rest of this jam into a dueling "Baby It's Cold Outside" mix -- but then I couldn't stop smiling by the end of this new version and lost my train of thought.  

And then I just surfed the internet for a while, trying to figure out stuff to put on my Christmas list.  As a grown man, naturally, I have everything I could ever want in life (health, family, yadda yadda yadda)... but I've still gotta scrounge up Santa some suggestions for my stocking.  And while socks and a few little nip bottles of booze would be grand -- maybe this year I could give into one of my greater desires.  Maybe a life-long Christmas wish (I mean, Mr. Johnson already got my unrealized childhood Star Wars dream gift).  

So maybe just put it up there on the list this season.  

I mean, sure, it won’t come true.  I know that.  It can’t happen.  It’s not “realistic” or “feasible” or “legal.”  But hey... Christmas is for wishes, homie.

Gotta try.

I Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas.  As told by Lake Street Drive.

If anyone can make this dream come true for you, bud, it's Santa. That guy works miracles. Me? I don't have to make any Christmas wishes this year, because mine just came true. A Christmas carol by Lake Street Drive? That was the only thing on my list. Great pick. 

Honestly, if I had a Christmas wish, here's what it would be: everybody in the world would be happy just like me. And Taj Mahal. And The Blind Boys of Alabama. Merry Christmas!

Someday At Christmas, everyone will be happy.  

There’ll be no war.  All our dreams will come to be in a world where all men are free.  No hungry children.  No empty hands.  No tears.  No fears.  

One shining moment where all our dreams will come to be -- hate will be gone, love will prevail.  A new world, (sung by Melvin "Blue" Franklin, the incomparable bass voice of The Temptations).

Someday.

Maybe not in time for you and me, brother - but someday... at Christmastime. I mean... it's possible. Totally possible. 

I'm determined to make this a very Charlie Brown Christmas mix. My next pick makes it so. I don't know what it is about this one that appeals to me. I like the stripped down, bare vocal. I'm definitely a fan of the sweepy strings. There's also this lingering sadness in it that lends itself to any holiday where I spend time with my wife's extended family... Dammit, I'm not being authentic. These are not truthful statements... I know exactly what it is that I like about this version of this song. It's the start, the choral, "Oh my God! Here he is!" It's the musical version of the Jesus is coming, look busy joke. I mean, it still gives you all that other stuff I mentioned - but it's the prologue that touches my heart. 

Here's Hark! the Herald Angels Sing by Penny and Sparrow.   

Matt, you know darn well that the Charlie Brown Christmas album is something I could listen to on repeat 24-hours a day for the entire month of December.  And November.  And January.  I love it like no other.  

So it's saying something when I suggest that a new version like this can affect my coal-sized heart in a way that comes even anywhere close to how the Vince Guaraldi Trio does.  

So, hell, I'm gonna double-down on the CharBrowChris portion of the night, and drop a variant of Linus and Lucy by Bela Fleck and the Flecktones.

Kev,

In a world that gives us so few real honest-to-God sure things to count on, there's a part of me that really relishes the fact that I can always know - beyond the shadow of any doubt - that I am going to get tense about the end of these mixes. My worrying about the songs that will ultimately be left off is like an old friend who stops by to visit at Christmastime. You know, the one who always brings a plate of cookies to your parents' house because they started bringing plates of cookies around to their pals in 1982 and now they don't know how to stop. My concern for songs left off is like that. It's at the point now that not only do I feel it, but I think I end up writing some variation of this email every time. Fa la la la la.

There's a lot about this pick that gives me pause. The fact that their Spotify bio touts the artist as "...one of the brightest lights on the Contemporary Christian Music scene..." is enough for me to start running in the other direction. And there are other worthy songs... Songs by beloved artists... Songs that I really like... I could pick those - probably should pick those. I mean, these guys are from Florida. It's gross.

But this song... it feels right. I don't want to like it. I resent all of its wannabe Big Bad Voodoo Daddy earnest energy... But then again, I mean, look at my toes. Those little bastards are tapping like a sumbitch. I can't control it. And honestly, in my heart of hearts, the 1990s in me knows that I don't really want to control it. I want to submit and swing dance with Heather Graham while wearing a Santa hat. Go daddy-o, I guess.

Here's O Come All Ye Faithful by Tenth Avenue North. 

You've got two picks left. I've got one. Let's try not to screw this up any more than I (probably) just have. 

Cripes.  This all went waytoofast.  

No time to overthink things.  Just gotta go with the flow.  And sure, you might’ve tossed me a curveball (sending me spiraling back into a late-90′s Swingers mindset, with their retro-hip cule yules).  

That said, newsflash: I’m a pro.  I can handle it.

Everything's jake.  Nothin' around here to snap your cap at.  But mark my words, chrome dome: if we're gonna swing, then we best start cookin' with gas. 

So do yerself a favor and grab your stompers before you head out on that dance floor... because this next tune -- this actual, genuine, bonafide swing -- is the real deal.  

Time for Swingin' Them Jingle Bells with Fats Waller.

Stompers? Chrome dome? Who's Jake? I'm Jake? I don't think so. I'm Matt. 

Bud, I have no clue what you're talking about, but if you mean to imply that Swinging' With Them Jingle Bells is a likable tune that we can dance to as Christmas approaches, then I am with you. You've done well by yourself on this mix. 

I've been thinking about it and I feel that my anxiety around my previous pick was because in my heart of hearts I always knew what my final pick would be. That second to last one was the one that had question marks around it. This one, this last one, was predetermined by the stars... and this is the time for stars, pal. Now yes, this song has caused a bit of strife among my immediate family. They think it's strange. They're put off by all the talking. They don't like that nothing jingles. Me? I like the groove. I like the idea of superimposing a toast about friendship being the wine of life. This one feels to me like the end of Christmas. When everything starts to settle down but there is still that distant buzzing feeling you get after a jam-packed day of family/food/fun. 

Here it is. Here's Chasing Christmas by The Superimposers. 

Merry Christmas, all you shining stars. Merry Christmas, World.

What's... superimposed?

Definitely see how that one might unlock strife within your family (I’m sure it’ll elicit the same reaction from my own fam, too).  But I have found myself picking up what you’re putting down on this song.  There's something ethereal and odd about it, but at the same time... reassuring?  Comforting?  Like the great big "Dad" of the universe is reclining in a cosmic lay-z-boy and waxing poetic by the crackling fireside at the end of a long day.  

I'm a little worried they'll say a bit too much -- go a bit too far -- if he keeps talking, but I can't help but enjoy the sound of their voice.

And if that track was the end of Christmas, this next one is simply the retrospective.  The encore.  Once you're flipping through the photos and taking down the decorations and putting all the new toys away, melancholy begins mixing with the joy.  

Next year seems so far away, everyone will be that much older.  Honestly, how many more Christmases will we all have together?  Who can say?  So, we can't help but savor what we've had here this year.  Who we've given our hearts to.

We keep looking back at Last Christmas.

And if there's someone who gives their heart in everything they do, it's Frank Turner.

Ho ho ho, everyone.  See you next season.

[kansascityhappenings]

Joe’s Weather World: Possi”Barry” (THU-7/11)

Good Morning…as promised it’s a different “feel” to the air out there as the dew points have come down to near 60° to start the day. That means with that “type” of air lingering…during the afternoon…it will feel more comfortable and not overly muggy for mid July…and we should enjoy this break from the nasty humidity for awhile it appears.

My attention this morning is towards the northern Gulf region as a tropical disturbance (the former big rain maker locally on the 4th) is meandering around the northern Gulf region. It’s showing little signs of organization right now…it’s still being sheared off from winds above it blowing from the north to the south…and until something changes with that…this thing won’t come together.

Forecast:

Today: Great…highs near 85°

Tonight: Pleasant…lows in the mid 60s

Tomorrow: Nice with highs 87°

This weekend: Warmer with highs 89-93° with humidity levels creeping up but not overly terrible.

Discussion:

The good news is that the nasty humidity has been swept away…that means it’s going to be more comfortable for a few days out there. The bad news is that many areas really didn’t get a lot of rain yesterday (or any), especially the farther north away from KC you went. This is an issue because 1) northern MO has missed out on a lot of the rain for a few weeks now and 2) the late crop planting and germination means that crop needs water in a time where water from Mother Nature is tough to come by sometimes because of the season and the hems and haws of rain chances in the summer months.

The news isn’t good for northern MO right now.

Their hopes may lie in what happens across the northern Gulf region as whatever it is down there is still whatever it is.

For now it’s being called a “Potential Tropical Cyclone” or PTC.

If it comes together and develops a low level circulation with wind associated with it it will become tropical depression and then potentially a tropical storms and then given a name.

In the month of July there have been 125 named storms going back to the 1850s…of course back then there were no satellites for about 120 years to come so odds are there have been a lot of storms that we didn’t know about…but whatever.

I believe 58 of those went on to become hurricanes.

Last night on the news I talked about what New Orleans is vulnerable to flooding rains…and especially with this situation.

The real issue isn’t so much the flooding from the storm (although that’s a different potential issue)

The biggest issue is that the Mississippi River is crazy high down there (it eventually empties into the Gulf of Mexico). Why? Because all the rain/snow that we’ve seen in the middle and northern central US has been flowing down that way. The river is running high because that’s where all the water ends up from all the other rivers/streams/creeks etc.

See the above map…all that water drains towards the Gulf Of Mexico at some point.

Right now the MS River in New Orleans is below flood stage.

Currently at around 16 feet. Notice the expected spike…that may or may not happen depending on the situation with Possi”Barry”

16 feet is about 13 feet ABOVE what the river normally is during July. Back when Katrina hit and sent water over the tops of the levees…the River was around 3 feet prior to Katrina. So you see the issue.

IF water surges northwards through the Gulf of Mexico into the MS River and continues upstream…this will increase the river heights. There isn’t a lot of room to play here…only about 3-6 feet or so until the river tops many of the levees which are 18-22 feet tall give or take depending on where particular levees are.

There was a lot of development post Katrina to the levees…increasing their size. All this still hasn’t been completed and not everywhere especially connected to the MS River. There are spots where the levees are only about 18 feet high…and where the margin is even lower for flooding.

So you see the concern…IF there is NO surge…and IF possiBarry doesn’t come together…then they deal with regular flooding…which is still an issue because the water has to be pumped OUT of New Orleans when it rains hard…and those pumps can only handle so much.

Yesterday the city received 4-10″ of rain. That didn’t work out too well.

For reference, New Orleans got swamped with 6-8 inches of rain in just 6 hours.

The pumps can only handle 1 inch an hour the first hour and 0.5 inches per hour afterwards.

Pictures from @NOLAnews pic.twitter.com/Kb0eEvzlKu

— Da'Vel Johnson (@Da_VelJ) July 11, 2019

https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

So obviously heavy rains + MS River flooding would be a BAD combination.

We’ll see what possi”Barry” does. Again IF the surge doesn’t happen…flooding from heavy rain may still be an issue…if the surge does happen…that creates MUCH bigger headaches.

Right now it appears that the rain from Barry (maybe) comes up through LA and into AR…then bends eastbound and affects more of SE MO and eastern MO than western MO. Should that happen…and we miss out on that moisture then I’m not sure when it really rains again at this point. The EURO has a pretty nasty heat wave developing next week…95-100° type heat. It has been overdoing the potential heat forecasts this summer by a few degrees but it may still be very hot.

The GFS isn’t so optimistic either…that N MO rain is from something next Wednesday (we’ll see about that)

So we’ll watch whatever is going on in the Gulf…and see if there are implications for us…IF the system moves farther westbound…and comes in across eastern TX…we may be in store for something wetter here.

The feature photo of the day is from Connie Cain out towards Baldwin City yesterday morning as storms were forming

Joe

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/07/11/joes-weather-world-possibarry-thu-7-11/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/07/11/joes-weather-world-possibarry-thu-7-11/

[selenelavellan]

Era’harel

Concert AU

Some backstory that’s unlikely to come up naturally so I’m putting it out here. I actually wanted to do more bits, leading up to how Selene lost her  teaching job but this seemed long enough on its own, so that’ll likely be up tomorrow.

TW for Sexual Assault, Death, Violence, Rape, and Shitty Parenting

tagging @feynites for reasons

Era'harel joins clan Ralaferin when he is still a toddler.

His name was different before then. Sweeter, like music when it rolled off of his parents tongues.

But he can't remember it, when he is found. He tries to, tries to remember the way his parents smiled at him, and held him, and how they would call for him near cobbled stones and ratted ceilings. He recalls the warmth, and the love, and the way the sunlight streamed through endless branches of a giant tree in a courtyard. But no matter how he tries, he can not recall the words, in the end.

As he grows, he doesn't think it matters anymore.

“Era'harel,” They call him, as he is taught to string a bow and clean a corpse and sit quietly for a hunt. Something to make him useful, something so he can earn his keep in the clan with no parents and no family to care for him. Some of the members are kind, and he bounces from aravel to aravel wherever room can be spared. Wherever there is a spare bit of love he can snag, or warmth he can gather and tuck away for later.

He is thirteen when he goes to his first Arlathvhen.

It is loud, and raucous and he loves it.

There are so many other elven children to run with and dance with and kiss with, and he discovers that he really, really likes kissing behind the closed flap of a tent.

Or what he thought was a closed flap, until he hears the giggling, and spies several sets of eyes peeking through the cloth like sunlight through branches.

It doesn't bother him, but the other boy blushes and giggles and runs back to the main events with a quick pardon.

He frowns, left alone again and not quite sure where he went wrong, but doesn't think anything more of it.

By the end of the Arlathvhen, he has been traded to the other boys clan, anyways.

“Alaris, First of Clan Lavellan,” he reintroduces himself, as though his tongue had not been down his throat a few days prior.

Era'harel nods, and introduces himself again as Alaris takes him on a tour of the clan site. Lavellan is more centralized than Ralaferin had been. More of its members are reliant on crops and trade than hunts and livestock.

It's nice, but it's also much, much more boring.

The hunting team is smaller, so his workload increases substantially despite it being a less necessary trade here. Hunting becomes a daily ritual, rather than a weekly one. He hates it, really. No time to do anything else, just a repetitive, monotonous list of daily tasks. Wake up too early, fletch some arrows for the following day, inspect the ones from the day before, hunt, clean the kill, eat, sleep, repeat.

Ugh.

At least his dreams are vivid. Parties and people and never having to touch another bow in his life. Visions of massive trees in courtyards, music, laughter. Freedom.

He's grateful that he's been taken in by the Dalish, really. They could have left him to die, and there's always one or two members that won't let him forget it. But he watches the ink on the faces of the other hunters, the bow permanently scrawled over the features, and feels sick at the permanence of it. At being permanently tied some predetermined role that he hates. Life is meant to be enjoyed.

No one else seems to get that.

And then the wyverns come. A small grouping wanders too close to the camp, picking off their usual prey and the hunters all have to scare them off, or hunt them down.

Arrows whiz past his ears, long dark hair blowing past his peripheral vision in the aftermath. The wyverns remain, screeching, and dart towards the group. The hunters leap, climb into the trees effortlessly, as they have done countless times before.

Era'harel stumbles, and falls back onto solid ground. Three scaled down dragons barrel towards him and he panics. He stands, and looses a fireball, managing to strike one right in the eye as it lets out an ear-splitting shriek.

The other two don't even pause, and one slams straight into his ribs before he can run, knocking him flat on his back. The other hunters call for him, and the wyvern rears its head up, teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he prepares for his death.

Several arrows thunk into it before it can tear out his throat, and the beast collapses, dead, on top of him.

Which would be less of an issue, he thinks, if they were not so heavy.

Another hunter slashes the throat of the already blinded wyvern, and the last is taken care of in short order before they are able to pull the carcass off of him. His ribs are crushed, he feels as though his entire body has been flattened out like jerky, and every step he tries to take sends another shot of pain straight through his body. The hunters that are not busy bundling up the wyverns help carry Era'harel back into the clan, and into the healers aravel. They dump him (rather roughly, if you ask him) into the empty patients hammock before leaving to finish the hunt.

Alone again, he sighs. Immediately, he wishes he hadn't as his ribs press painfully back into him with the deep breath.

“You look like hell,” comes a soft voice from behind a shelving unit full of salves and potions. “What did you do?”

“I killed a dragon.” Era'harel lies with a smug grin.

The girl doesn't seem to believe him, on any account. White hair braided down her back, a small curl wisping over her forehead as she strides towards him in traditional healers garb.

She pokes and prods and hems and haws at him, and he relaxes at the attention, until he realizes something odd.

“You look like you're my age.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Then I'd say that makes sense, since we are the same age.” she quips.

“Why haven't I seen you before?”

“I'm not always around. The last few years my time has been split between the trade routes and, well,” she gestures to the space around them “being locked away in here.”

Era'harel blinks “They let you go on the trade expeditions?”

“Mm-hm,” the girl grins “I'm good with numbers, and Keeper agrees that I need to get out of my fathers shadow from time to time.”

“Do you get to go into the cities?”

“Sure do.”

Era'harel thinks of giant trees and laughter and ratted roofs, and how much he misses these things he scarcely remembers.

“Could you take me with you?”

She blinks.

“I...don't know. We need the hunters here, for food. There's only about six of you.”

“Well there's only two healers, and they let you go.” he points out.

“That's...” she frowns. “I mean, you're right, but I don't know...”

“What don't you know?”

“You, for starters.”

Era'harel thinks that's probably fair, and gives her the best semblance of a wave and a charming smile as he can manage in his current situation, and introduces himself.

“That's a weird name.” she comments. “They named you 'demon mage'?”

“It's not like I picked it,” he gripes. “So what's your name then, Ms.-hyper-critical-of-naming-customs?”

“...Sulvuna.”

“Oh, 'alive'. That's much better.” He snickers.

Sulvuna turns red beneath the strands of her hair that have come loose in the humidity of the aravel before she pokes him harder than is necessary for her inspection in the ribs. He yelps in pain, and notes the flat 'oops' she gives him in lieu of an actual apology.

She does end up asking if he can go along on the trade routes though. She even goes so far as to lie for him, claiming that his injuries will require more recovery time before he can shoot an arrow or cast a spell correctly. Her father scoffs and derides her for it, and Era'harel pretends not to hear him calling her a disgrace, or notice that it's the first thing he's said to her in the week he's spent resting in their hammock.

Still.

She was willing to stick her neck out for him. He should do something in return, probably.

They're on the road with another elf, a slightly older one who is far taller than any elf really has the right to be with bright orange hair, (“His name's Haleir,” Sulvuna informs him from beneath rosy cheeks and eyes that are trying to act like they aren't focused on him for half their trip) who is in charge of the actual trades. Lots of exchanges made over the years, and Era'harel notices the gifts Haleir buys for Sulvuna on their trips. Nothing extravagant, some clothes and foods and most notably a smooth stone in the shape of a crescent moon that she keeps tucked away on her person, even when they are back at camp.

He also notices Haleir giving gifts to several other members of the clan, when Sulvuna isn't looking.

When they are eighteen and he and Sulvuna consider each other best friends even in the daylight, they go into town with Haleir for the umpteenth time. But their first night, Haleir sends him away. Some errand he says needs to be double checked, and Era'harel goes without question.

When he returns, he finds Haleir asleep beneath the covers of the bed, and Selene with tear streaks down her face, her dress torn and shredded and hanging off her shoulders.

He's frozen in the doorway, her gaze going right through him. Empty, hollow.

Hurt.

And then he is angry. He doesn't ask what happened, doesn't need to, doesn't want to make her say it when he's seen the looks and he's seen the signs and he still trusted them here alone together and he was wrong, he was so wrong, he should have been looking out for her, he's supposed to be her friend damn it.

Era'harel drags Haleir out of bed, slamming him to the floor and shocking him awake.

“What the fuck-” Haleir screams.

“How dare you!” Era'harel interrupts “How dare you, she trusted you, the clan trusted you and then you turn around and pull this sort of shit, you fucking monster-!”

“Era-” Sulvuna whispers, moving to stand from the bed. Haleir speaks again and she winces, immediately sitting down as he starts yelling excuses to Era'harel about how it wasn't his fault, and of course she wanted it too, she just doesn't know how to have a good time, and it's right around this time that he stops listening and smashes his fist into the side of Haleirs jaw, instead.

Sulvuna freezes, stunned, still caught trying to figure out what the best course of action might be. Haleir, clearly unused to being held accountable for his own actions, is momentarily stunned as well before he pulls back and strikes at Era'harel, who narrowly ducks out of the way and uses the momentum to slam Haleir face down onto the bed, twisting his arms painfully behind his back until he's screaming in pain instead of anger, and pleading to be let go.

“Apologize.” Era'harel grits out.

Haleir is silent, until his arm is twisted tighter behind him, and he yells once more before finally saying “Fine, fine!” he turns his head slightly, to look at Sulvuna “Sorry for giving exactly what you wanted you fuckin-”

“That is not an apology!” Era'harel roars, before kneeing him as hard as he can in the groin and slamming the taller elf back into the wall. Haleir crumples to the floor, unconscious, while Sulvuna stares uncertainly back at Era'harel.

“I...thank...thank you?” She manages, voice scratchy and raw enough to break on the higher tones.

He sighs, and pulls her tightly into his arms. Tries to emulate what he knows is supposed to be reassuring. “I'm sorry,” he mumbles into her hair. “I shouldn't have left.”

“It wasn't your fault...” She whispers back, arms awkwardly coming up to wrap back around him. “You didn't know. I didn't know. These things happen.”

“That's not- That's not true, Sulvuna. The world doesn't have to be like this. Not everyone is like him, I've slept with plenty of people, and none of them were-none of them did anything like this! You're not supposed to!”

“It doesn't matter.” she whispers back with a shake of her head “It doesn't-I don't..It doesn't matter. It happened, and nothing I do will change that. I just...can we...can we go for a walk or something? I'd really like to...to not be here, right now.”

“Yeah,” Era'harel swallows, handing her his traveling cloak. “Yeah, wherever you want to go.”

She nods, and thanks him as she dons his cloak, and they step back out into the hallway.

They end up walking all the way back to the clan, without Haleir, and without going back.

Era'harel confronts her father first. He's a healer, and he's her father, and that means he should be the one to help her here, right? You're supposed to see a doctor after stuff like this, he's pretty sure.

But it becomes clear early into the conversation, Sulvuna thankfully still outside, that Elrogathe has no desire to try to fix the situation.

“I don't see the problem.” He shrugs without even looking up from his work.

“You're shitting me, right? Haleir raped your daughter, and you 'don't see the problem'?”

“Haleir is going to be bonded to Sulvuna soon, and then she will be expected to have relations with him regularly so that they can have children and strengthen the clan.”

“And if he knocked her up already?” Era'harel manages through grit teeth.

“Then for once in her life, my daughter will be ahead of the curve.”

The nonchalance grates at him. He should care, he should love her, parents are supposed to love their children. Era'harel can not even remember his parents faces, but even he knows that. Purple flames lick at his arm, and Elrogathe finally glances up from his work table when he smells the smoke.

“Please do not set the aravel on fire. It would set me back by months on work.”

“What is wrong with you? Doesn't Sulvuna matter to you at all?! Isn't her well-being important to you?”

“Sulvuna is important to the clan. Her mother and I are both from long lines of Dalish blood, as are Haleir and his parents. I wouldn't expect a shemlen like you to understand.”

“Excuse you?”

“Do you prefer demon spawn, then? I assumed Shemlen was the polite thing to call you.”

“I am not-my parents were-”

“Your mother was a whore from the city, who ran away when your father was slaughtered by templars. Keeper Ralaferin found her standing over you, already a demon, an abomination given in to her sin entirely. Ralaferin has always been a soft clan. They slew her to save her, and took you in in the hopes that a proper upbringing could make you better. An offering of repentance to the gods, to show that even the doomed could be saved.” Elrogathe leans back in his chair, raising one eyebrow.  “They were wrong, of course. We took you in, because we needed more hunters. But a demon dressed as an elf is still a demon in the end. You are still not one of us, nor will you ever be. And the next time you fall ill, do not expect me to save you. It is not worth wasting the resources anymore.”

“That's enough.” Sulvuna insists from the doorway, fists tight at her sides. “You are being needlessly cruel. Era'harel is a good person-”

“We call him demon for a reason, Sulvuna-”

“And yet his heart is kinder than yours.”

Elrogathe tsks, and returns to his work as Sulvuna snags Era'harel hand in hers and drags him out of the aravel.

“I'm sorry, for what he said.” she apologizes. “He was out of line.”

“Is it true?”

Sulvuna blinks.

“Is it true?” Era'harel repeats, more insistently.

“I...I don't know,” she admits. “I've never known him to lie, though.”

It stings. It stings, the only thing anyone has told him about his parents in years, and it's this. Slaughtered, given in to temptation. Temptation he's been eyeing himself, in dreams. Memories tainted, smiles and warmth and love all ended with blades.

His end too, probably.

Sulvuna hugs him.

She doesn't say anything, usually not one to initiate physical contact, especially given recent events, but she steps in and wraps her arms around him and pulls him into her until his head is on her shoulder and he returns the embrace.

And then he cries. He cries, and he howls for the first time in his memory as she holds him and hums old songs into his ear, and takes him to one of their more secluded spaces in the woods, one of their bottles of alcohol still hidden in the trunk of the tree.

They stay there like that until the sun begins to set. Sulvuna still stroking his back gently, soothingly. 

Lovingly.

“We should leave.” She muses.

He scoffs.

“I'm serious.” she says.

He lifts his head, pulling back from her and wiping at his face  as he makes eye contact. 

She certainly seems serious.

“Where would we go?” He asks, warming up the the idea the more he considers it.

“Anywhere,” Sulvuna shrugs “Anywhere we wanted, that's the point. We could go somewhere no one knows us. Reinvent ourselves, start from scratch. I've got some things we could sell, and we both know how much things are worth, and we could go. We could go anywhere.”

“Let's do it.”

She nods. “Pack a bag. We'll head out in...an hour?”

Era'harel grins. “I love you.”

She snorts. “Oh, shut up.”

–

They leave that night, and travel to the nearest city to find a bus. They take the bus for a few days, until nothing is familiar anymore, until no one's heard of their clans, or anyone linked to their clans. Until Era'harel is sure he's too far for it to be where he was born.

“We should rename ourselves.” he decides over a burger and fries at a small diner. And gods, he is not going to miss having to kill something to eat meat.

“You think so?”

He nods. “We hate these names anyways. Why drag them into our new life? If we're gonna start over, let's go full balls to the wall.”

Sulvuna laughs. Light and easy, and more freely than he thinks he's ever seen her laugh back with the clan. “Ok, sure. What do you want me to call you?”

He ponders it for a moment, before the perfect name hits him, and his face splits into a grin. “Desire.”

Sulvuna almost chokes on her milkshake. “Oh, surely something more modest and subtle for someone like you would be better.” she teases.

“Nah, I like Desire. Des, in fact. Des has a nice ring to it.” 

Like reclaiming the very thing they tried to condemn him for, he thinks. Fuck them. They want to keep it hidden behind closed doors, like some shameful secret? He'll wear it as a badge of pride, instead.

And besides, he knows he looks good. No one would argue it.

“What about you?” he asks.

Sulvuna ponders the question for a moment, nodding decisively and declaring “Selene. I like Selene.”

“That's like a moon thing, right?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Suits you. Hair like moonlight. People will write poetry about you.” He teases with a waggle of his eyebrows.

She laughs again. “I doubt that.”

“You never know,” Des smirks “Our future looks bright, after all.”

[youre-on-a-starship]

Word Count: 3,047

Author’s Note: This is my second entry for @trekken81‘s Songfic challenge. I took this song in kind of a different direction. Sometimes fighting for what you need in your life means leaving some things behind and coming back to them later. I hope you enjoy this one! I had fun writing Chekov again ^^

Cyrillic Key:  Да - Da - Yes,  Боже мой - Bozhe moy - Oh my God.

---

Like a small boat

On the ocean

Sending big waves

Into motion

Like how a single word

Can make a heart open

I might only have one match

But I can make an explosion

The auditorium filled up behind you. The crowd got louder and louder as the clock ticked down to the beginning of your first lecture. You twisted a damp Kleenex around and around in your hands, trying not to let the deep timbre of the voices get to you.

Someone sat on your left. You spared a glance from your lap to theirs and saw a pair of enormous, meaty hands unpacking a PADD from their bag.

Snapping your eyes back to your own lap, you sucked in a tremulous breath before the familiar fuzz filled the front of your face. You brought the Kleenex up and sneezed violently into it.

“Bless you,” the large man next to you said.

You glanced sideways, trying to resist the urge to bite your lip, and gave him a shaky smile and a nod.

“Excuse me,” a small voice to your right said. “Is anyone sitting here?”

Above you hovered a short man with wildly curly hair barely plastered to his head with sweat. He looked as panicked as you felt.

“No, please,” you squeaked, as you did a double take. He wasn’t a man at all. He had flushed, pink cheeks, uncreased eyes, and no shoulder definition under his narrowly-cut uniform. As he sat he made eye contact with you and gave you a lop-sided grin.

“I guess you got an offer too?” he asked in a gravelly voice, barely broken.

You nodded.

“Pavel Chekov,” he twisted in his seat and offered you his hand. You went to take it, but looked at the tissue in your other hand and reconsidered.

“Y/N Y/L/N, sorry, I’m having allergies,” you hid the messy Kleenex between your palms and closed yourself back into your seat.

“Zere are a lot of plants here,” he shrugged with a smile.

“Where are you from?” you asked, trying to place his accent. It was musical and awkward, much like this cadet’s smile.

“Russia,” his grin got wider. “Have you ever heard of a place called Taganrog?”

“I haven’t, sorry,” you said as your face scrunched up involuntarily again.

“Have you been to ze clinic?” Pavel asked. “Zey probably hawe somesing.”

You sneezed into your tissue before shaking your head.

“I’ll go on my break,” you muttered with a sniff.

“Vat track are you in?” he asked.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you giggled. “You first.”

He blushed as he pulled his PADD out of his bag.

“Operations,” he said sheepishly. “I am going to be a varp engineer.”

You smiled and felt a pang of worry in your chest.

“Vat about you?” he asked again.

“Um, I’m thinking about going into anthropology,” you realized that your voice sunk in volume.

“Really?” Pavel asked with raised eyebrows. Much to your surprise, he leaned in slightly as he continued questioning you. “Are you aiming for Command? You could be a Captain viss zose skills.”

“I don’t know, really,” you felt your face getting warm. Generally, the response to your chosen path was disappointment. Even in this golden age of exploration, Earth valued hard and fast statistics. The professor entered the lecture hall from a side door and the room began to quiet.

“You’re going to be amazing,” Pavel winked at you before turning back to face front.

“You, too,” you grinned as he glanced sideways with a half-smile before the tips of his ears turned pink.

Losing friends and I'm chasing sleep

Everybody's worried about me

In too deep

Say I'm in too deep (in too deep)

And it's been two years I miss my home

But there's a fire burning in my bones

Still believe

Yeah, I still believe

Eight years later you stood in the personnel bay of the USS Bradbury waiting to disembark at San Francisco.

Your initial assignment to the Bradbury was up and the ship as a whole was being reassigned as a scientifically-based research vessel, leaving less room for cultural research, leaving less room for the anthropologists.

Last night, when you called your mother to tell her you were docking, you had a pang of homesickness. This last assignment took you away for nearly three years and your mother was starting to ask when you would be leaving the fleet for good.

You conceded to her that although that time was drawing nearer, you still had work that you could do with Starfleet. For the time being, you took a position at the San Francisco archive. You’d be heading the department for xenotheology. It was about equal pay and it was more secure than your position on the Bradbury for sure. And for your parents, it was planetside. But the draw of space… wasn’t that what you signed on for in the first place?

“Y/L/N!”

Turning around, you saw Lieutenant Commander Evans hurrying to catch up with you.

You took a few steps back to meet him halfway.

“Yes, Sir?”

“You’ve been reassigned to the archive, right?” Mr. Evans asked between large breaths of air.

“I have been, yes.”

“How set are you on that assignment?”

The gears jammed in your brain.

“If you’re offering me my old position back -”

“I’m not. Wish I could. Really,” Mr. Evans put his hands on his hips. “The Enterprise needs someone in archiving. The old department head has just applied for maternity leave.”

You gaped at him, not sure what to say. The Enterprise was the jewel of the Federation’s crown, after all.

“Think you can bring yourself to go back out there?”

“In a heartbeat, Sir.”

“Excellent,” Mr. Evans clapped you on the shoulder. “I’ll put through your papers personally. They dock in three days, you can report to the shipyard at 0700 on Sunday, their Commander will meet you there.”

“Thank you so much, Sir, this is…” you shook your head, suddenly at a loss for words. Instead, you stuck your hand out and shook Mr. Evans’.

“Good luck out there, Lieutenant. You’re going to do an amazing job.”

You smiled at your old commanding officer as he turned back toward the Bradbury shuttles.

As soon as he was out of earshot you jumped and punched the air. The Enterprise. What an opportunity.

Then it hit you. Pavel Chekov was on the Enterprise. Was he the pilot? No, the navigator. You’d find out for sure soon enough.

You skipped down the sidewalk, wondering how you were going to tell your parents that you wouldn’t be coming home after all.

--

A tall, commanding Vulcan greeted you at the shipyard. He opted to shake your hand, although you were well aware that this was not Vulcan custom.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N,” he said in that alarmingly flat tone you were familiar with from your records. “I am Commander Spock. I have read your file.”

“I hope it was promising,” you ventured, following him onto a shuttlepod.

“Extremely. Your letters of reference show that you have a great deal of potential.”

Was that a compliment?

“Thank you, sir,” you said with a curt nod.

“Lieutenant Commander Reyes has every intention of returning to work once she has recovered,” Mr. Spock continued. “I do not wish to imply that you will remain in the position you have been reassigned for, however, if what I have read is true, we may want to discuss a new position for you when Ms. Reyes returns.”

“What type of position?” you asked, feeling the nervous churning in your stomach start to peak again.

“We will discuss that with Lieutenant Commander Reyes. She will be leading you through your first week aboard the ship and, in fact, it was she that suggested we retain your expertise. I agree with her.”

“Well, that’s unexpected,” you said, following quickly with: “but not unwelcome. I appreciate you telling me ahead of time.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Spock nodded with a shadow of a smirk on his lips. “In the meantime, I have here your assignment details including your room assignment and your appointment time with our quartermaster.”

“Quartermaster?” you asked, looking down at your PADD and seeing the file the Commander sent you. “But I already have all of my standard issue -”

“We have some upgraded equipment for you,” Mr. Spock nodded as he spoke. “And Starfleet has decided to reevaluate its uniforms. We are all being issued the updated design.”

“I didn’t hear anything about this on the Bradbury.”

“We are their, as the Captain says, ‘guinea pigs.’”

“Ah,” you raised your eyebrows as if heard a Vulcan say “guinea pigs” wasn’t the funniest thing you’d heard this week.

And all those things I didn't say

Wrecking balls inside my brain

I will scream them loud tonight

Can you hear my voice this time?

There, across the room, stood Pavel Chekov. He was… a lot broader than the last time you saw him. Granted, you graduated the academy a year before he did, so he was what, sixteen the last time you saw him? He wasn’t a kid anymore. Nor were you; you wondered how you’d changed.

You bit your lip and crossed the rec room without stopping at the replicator as planned.

The man across the table from Pavel looked up at you and raised an eyebrow as you made awkward eye contact with him. Instead of looking away and attempting to play cool, you gave him a friendly smile and walked a little faster.

“You’re new,” the man said with a smile. “Can we help you find something?”

That’s when Pavel turned around. He flushed when your eyes met and he jumped out of his chair, the piece of furniture teetering dangerously before settling back on its legs.

“I didn’t know you vere coming!” he cried, trying to stick his hand out to shake yours but thinking better of it and throwing his arms around you with a hearty laugh. “You look amazing!”

The heat coming off his chest was enough to startle you. You exchanged a look with Pavel’s amused friend before winding your arms around his waist and squeezing him once before he let you go to step back and look at you.

“You are here because of Lieutenant Commander Reyes?” he asked, his eyes wandering up and down your whole body once before he examined your face. “Боже мой, you look so different out of ze reds.”

“I was going to say the same. You’re in gold, then?” you asked.

“Да, I ended up svitching,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I just remember vat happened during your last semester, and I couldn’t let zat happen again.”

“I heard you were a navigator now,” you tried to keep the conversation from derailing. You could do without talking about that in front of other people. It still brought heat to your cheeks.

“Да,” he said quietly. “Do you want to have a coffee or lunch or something?”

“That’s actually why I was here, but I don’t want to tear you away from your friend,” you looked around Pavel at the man sitting at the table behind him

“Don’t mind me,” he said with a kind smile, “we weren’t doing anything important and you two could probably use the time to catch up.”

He stood up and stuck his hand out.

“Hikaru Sulu,” he said.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you shook his hand.

“Happy birthday, by the way,” he smirked and wandered off toward the exit.

“So you’re telling people about my birthday now?” you looked up at Pavel.

“I voss just telling him zat…” Pavel seemed to reevaluate his answer.

“That what?”

“Zat I vanted to call you but I vouldn’t know vhat to say.”

“Well this is better than a call I think,” you looked back at the replicator. “Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee,” he nodded and brushed past you to get to the replicator.

You sat and waited for him to return.

“I can’t beliewe you’re here; did you know I voss here?” he asked as he sat down, placing your favourite latte in front of you and settling in with his own cup of coffee.

“I did know, yes, that’s part of why I accepted this assignment.”

“Really?” he beamed. “After everything?”

“Well,” you felt your ears get hot again, “in the grand scheme of things you didn’t really do anything, Pav. I mean, you did kind of freak out…”

“I ruined our relationship,” he said, leaning forward. “For schoolvork. I ignored you because of somesing so -”

“It was important and don’t tell me it wasn’t,” you wagged a finger at him. “And to be honest, that was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“How could it possibly be?’ he crossed his arms on the table and listened.

“I stopped thinking about relationships,” you admitted. “I started focussing on my work, trying to become better. I made great strides in my field -”

“I read your articles.”

“See? And I couldn’t have done all that if I was busy trying to make friends and go on dates and things like that. I mean, I’ve come a long way and I think I can multitask now, but I was so young then and I needed the focus. You really saved my life.”

“Ve vere too young,” Pavel conceded. “I’m still sorry, I said some sings…”

“Please, forget about it,” you reached out and touched his arm. “Like you said, we were too young. I’m not holding any of it close to my chest. I just want to reconnect, if you want to.”

“I do.”

This is my fight song

Take back my life song

Prove I'm alright song

My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong

I'll play my fight song

And I don't really care if nobody else believes

'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

“We’re hoping to offer you the position as the lead of this project,” Lieutenant Commander Reyes said as she finished her speech. “I should be back to work within 6 months’ time, and from there we can get this project started.”

“I would be honoured, really,” you beamed ear-to-ear as you shook the Lieutenant Commander’s hand again. She had essentially offered you a research position. With your expertise on inter-species relations, you would be spearheading a project to document crew dynamics on a ship that hosted so many crew members of varying species. This would be the stuff of articles for years to come.

“Excellent,” Reyes said, leading you back down the hall from the main archiving room. “You’re settling in well so far?”

“I think so ma’am,” you said, “I’m looking forward to getting started tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you are,” Reyes smiled at you. “I gleaned from some of your recommendation letters that you aren’t the most sociable crew member of all time? Why is that? You seem very friendly to me.”

“It’s more of a choice, ma’am. I had a bad experience mixing work with pleasure once and I tried to avoid that position again. However, I’ve since made some strides in that department and I think that I will be improving in that field shortly.”

“I hope so, because your job is going to be very difficult if your crew members find you prickly,” Reyes warned. “You are an incredible young woman. I can’t believe you’ve made so many amazing strides in such a short time.”

“I was singled out when I was very young,” you explained. “I got this letter from Starfleet when I was fourteen asking me to come and join up. How could I say no? I think they wanted me to be an engineer or something, but I chose anthropology instead. The whole point of getting off the planet is to explore and document after all, isn’t it?”

“Quite right. I think they made a good choice,” Reyes smiled at you. “Go finish getting settled in, we’ll meet here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

--

When you got back to your room you had two messages on your PADD.

The first was from your parents, begging you to reconsider your choice and come home. Starfleet could do without one more anthropologist.

“Not this one,” you muttered as you ignored the message.

The second was from Pavel.

Happy birthday! Can I take you out?

Where? you messaged back.

You went to the mirror and reorganized your hair as the PADD beeped to notify you about your reply.

Realistically I can only offer you my quarters or the mess hall.

Yours sounds great. Where are you?

Outside.

You raised your eyebrows and strode to your door, opening it to Pavel’s face.

“You weren’t kidding,” you said.

“Come viss me,” he held out his hand and you took it, following him down the hall and around the corner.

“You’re just here?” you said with surprise.

“Ve are just zat lucky,” he grinned and let you in first.

You turned around to say something but you were met with his lips on yours. You raised your eyebrows and reached out to touch him and found his hands.

He let you go after a moment and looked at you.

“I sought zat maybe -”

“Yes, please,” you whispered, leaning back in and kissing him again, briefly, “I missed you so much.”

“Ewen after ewerysing I did? Ewerysing I said?”

“You were under tremendous stress,” you murmured, leaning your forehead on his. “So was I. We let something good slip by because we were so wrapped up in our own stuff we couldn’t see the value of what we had. I mean, it was probably for the best, look at us now. You’re the navigator on the flagship and I’ve got more articles under my belt than any person my age has a right to.”

“So now ve are able to see vat ve hawe,” he said, staring into your eyes.

“We certainly can,” you kissed him again. “I’m sorry, too, you know.”

“Newer be,” he kissed you and then backed up. “Vat do you vant to eat? It’s your birsday, after all. I hawe some mowies, too, ve can vatch somesing vhile ve eat.”

[ecotone99]

[SF][MS]Fate of the Noctavem

Writing prompt from https://awesomewritingprompts.tumblr.com/ #759: Beginnings and Endings

Prompts: (Spoiler used to hide ending)

Start your story with: Maddy watched the strange man crawl out of the escape pod, his arms shaking, his eyes wild.

End your story with: This man had seen things; things Maddy would never fully understand.

Maddy watched the strange man crawl out of the escape pod, his arms shaking, his eyes wild. She had seen the pod come crashing down to the surface of Araxis Prime like a korthan night haw, wings folder in tightly with an ear splitting screech piercingly released from its beak as it swooped down upon its prey. Not realizing what it was that was intruding upon her solitude she took her pack and hopped into her land skimmer, swiftly covering the distance to the crash site. The skimmer hovered only a meter above the rushing ground of the black rock valley she had built her home within.

Parking the skimmer a safe distance away, she approached the metallic pod with the now exiting stranger. Throwing caution to the wind, she dropped beside the crawling man. Her hands reaching into her pack for the med pack that is always stored away during her journeys, she scanned the man for any signs of injury. Surprisingly, she doesn't see any wounds other than a superficial cut on his forehead, perhaps from a hard bump taken in the crash. Applying some of the medigel and wrapping the man's head with a tight bandage, she helps prop the man against a rock outcropping a short distance away.

"Is there anyone else with you in there?" She pointed to the pod, looking into the man's eyes. While he didn't indicate one way or another, she didn't like what she saw. Eye's nearly wild looking, he seemed to be on the verge of panic with a lot of white exposed in his wide, nearly panic stricken gaze. "Look, sit tight, breathe. You're going to make it. You just have a tiny bump that seems stable. I need to make sure no one else is in there. I promise you, I'll be right back. I need to check for other survivors." Rising to her feet, she moved to the pod quickly. The circular door of the sphere-like pod lay open to her, it's darkened entry filling her with dread that seemed insensible to her.

Not one to experience fear out in this rural area, her trepidation was stored away further back in her mind as she crawled into the pod. She hadn't lived out here on her own this long to be easily spooked by every little thing. Inside was large enough for a crew of five to sit comfortably. Yet the seats within were left bereft of any passengers. There wasn't even any sign of the space suits that would normally be present for a quick get away in any emergency.

Taking a quick look outside to check on the visitor from the view port, she found him sitting with his head back and eyes closed, mouth slack. He was either passed out or asleep, likely the former. She suspected he had a concussion from that knock to the head. When she got back to him, she'd need to keep him awake til she was sure he had cleared the dangerous period where he could slip into a coma.

Keen on clearing the pod as quickly as possible, she flipped on the flight computer's display. Quickly swiping through the familiar menus, she found the flight recorder. Not sure why she paused, hesitant to discover the mystery of the stranger's reason for arriving alone, she finally switched on the play button to the recording.

"Mayday, mayday! This is the crew of the Noctavem." The message crackles over the ship speakers amid a cacophony of metallic screeching and the unmistakable screams of what Maddy can only assume were the absent crew. The sound of a seal closing cut out the chilling background noise and gave the speaker an eerie tone in the now deafening silence of his SOS. The hair on the back of her neck rising, she listened on.

"Our crew has discovered..." The message goes to static, cutting in and out. "...Ken is unresponsive... missing members of crew... its onboard and oh god... lone survivor....avoid main ship...explosives set for after emergency departure..."

The message quickly degrades till nothing is comprehensible. Switching the display off, she does a final sweep on the way back to the man outside. It's on her way out she discovers the dark splotches along the seal of the open door. Darkened and now dry, she can't help but think something terrible had happened aboard the Noctavem and has left only the lone survivor behind. Shuddering, she exited the pod.

Returning to the injured crewman, she touched him lightly to wake him. He shook awake with a scream at her touch, spooking Maddy who had now fallen back onto her ass in the dirt. His eyes had taken a reddish, blood red hue and looked alien to her. This man had seen things; things Maddy would never fully understand.

~FIN~

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[biofunmy]

Megan Thee Stallion Knows ‘Tuition Ain’t No Joke’

Last Thursday, at Nightingale Plaza, a trendy club in West Hollywood, fans of Megan Thee Stallion wore sashes bearing the phrase “Cognac Queen” (the title of one of her songs) and waited for the rapper to arrive for the night’s event: a pageant of sorts. Though rap may be a male-dominated arena where women are pitted against each other for an imaginary single top stop, tonight was all about showing fierce support.

“I want to show other girls how happy I am and how confident I am, how I still want to go to school and I still want to rap,” the 24-year-old artist said earlier that night in a hotel suite, where her makeup artist and hair stylist were getting her ready for the event. “I just want to be like a good example to somebody in the future.”

In ninth grade, when she was better known by her given name, Megan Pete, the rapper was crowned Miss Pearland, after the small city south of Houston where she went to high school. It was her first and last time competing for a crown. “It wasn’t something my heart was in,” she said.

“Houston is a place where you have to be the best,” she continued. “Everybody gotta be flashy, flashy. It’s not like a gaudy thing, but people definitely put on their best dressed even if they go into Wal-Mart.”

That night, the rapper — who now takes online courses at Texas Southern University, since her travel schedule doesn’t allow her to be on campus any longer — would award a $2,500 scholarship to the winning contestant.

“I just thought it would have been a good thing to do because I know that tuition ain’t no joke,” she said. “So if I could do something to help somebody else, then I thought that would be nice.”

When she was growing up, Megan Thee Stallion watched her mother pursue a rap career under the name Holly-Wood. It wasn’t until she was in college that she disclosed her own desire to rap. (In March, her mother died after a brain tumor was discovered.)

She rose to local fame through a series of cyphers, or freestyle rap battles, while attending college. Her video “STALLI FREESTYLE” is often cited as the song that introduced her to the rest of the world. This year, she appears on the cover of XXL’s annual Freshman Class issue, a stamp of approval in the music industry, alongside DaBaby, Rico Nasty, Tierra Whack and Blueface.

Being from the South, Megan Thee Stallion is often mentioned in the context of the “yee-haw agenda” encapsulated in images of black cowboys and cowgirls. She grew up going to rodeos, where leather chaps and fringe jackets were part of the culture.

“The first time I ever put on a cowboy hat for a video a lot of people on my team was like, ‘Are you sure? You know, we don’t want people we think we country,’” she said.

“I’m like, ‘It’s cute! I don’t care what people think,’” she continued. “Now look at everybody.”

So far, the rapper has thrown five gatherings across the country, inviting her “hotties” to “drive the boat,” or drink socially with her. “I came up with it,” she said. “It’s my little slogan.”

In early June, hundreds of people showed up to the Santa Monica Pier for a “hottie beach cleanup” that she organized. The rapper said the idea was prompted by a question about climate change on Twitter. Asked whether she considers herself an activist, she said, “I don’t want to put no title on nothing, I just live like this.”

The idea for the pageant came about during a discussion with Rayna Bass, the senior vice president of marketing at 300 Entertainment, one of the record labels with which Megan Thee Stallion has signed. Ms. Bass asked her if she was going to throw another “hottie party” in the lead-up to the BET Awards. Instead, she threw a different kind of celebration.

At midnight, Megan Thee Stallion, who developed her stage presence at a young age on hip-hop, jazz and ballet teams, finally appeared. Over the span of three days, more than 2,000 people submitted a form on the rapper’s site asking them to explain why they’re a “Cognac Queen.”

The rapper said all genders applied. “I was trying to get a hot boy in there, but I don’t think he responded in time,” she said.

The pageant started with each contestant explaining their submission.

“A cognac queen means you turn up. That goes for your community. That goes for your school,” said Rayna McClintock, 21, an undergraduate studying communications at Texas Southern University.

“Not only do I represent perseverance and standing up for myself, but I can turn up, whenever,” said Tiera Holmes, 23, who is pursuing a master’s in psychology at the University of Texas at Arlington.

Annjanae Gonzales, 27, who is pursuing a master’s of public health at California State University in Los Angeles, was the last to walk onstage.

The rapper passed a bottle of D’Usse to the two remaining contestants — Ms. Holmes and Ms. McClintock — and helped them “drive the boat,” which in this case meant tipping their heads back and pouring alcohol into their mouths.

The audience helped choose the winner through cheers and applause, the loudest applause came for Ms. Holmes.

“I dropped everything that I was doing,” said Ms. Holmes, the winner, who had never left the South before. “This is my first time getting on an airplane. I was scared, but I did it, and I won, and I’m so excited.”

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[ms-d-educates-blog]

Types of NCLEX® Questions

The following article was reblogged from NRSNG.com a website developed by Jon Haws.  I would recommend this blog to ALL nursing students, new graduates, or seasoned nurses.  There are many free reference tools, practice tests, and books written by Jon that will be helpful in your studies.  I suggest that you start to practice answering test questions as described below early in your student career.  The more you practice, the better you will get.  Always review the rationales on all questions...even the ones you answered correctly.  Good luck in your studies...

One of the best ways to defeat the NCLEX® is to know going into it what types of questions are going to be asked.

The NCLEX® is based on a set method for writing questions known as “Bloom’s Taxonomy for the Cognitive Domain“.

In fact, in the NCLEX®-RN test plan the NCSBN states:

“Bloom’s taxonomy . . . is used as a basis for writing and coding items for the examination”

So, what exactly is Bloom’s taxonomy?

Essentially it is nothing more than a method for classifying learning objectives and organizing them into levels of intellectual behavior and cognitive ability.

Originally it was developed to provide a congruent framework for teachers to write test questions and to serve as a groundwork in developing learning goals for students.

It is important to understand that each succeeding level in the taxonomy builds upon the previous (ie it is impossible to create if you do not understand).  In other words from remember to create, the learner is required to call upon a higher level of cognitive ability.

This classification was originally developed in 1956 but was revised in 2001 to include the following categories from simple to complex (Anderson & Krathwohl, 2001).

Remember

Understand

Apply

Analyze

Evaluate

Create

The NCSBN further states that:

“Since the practice of nursing requires application of knowledge, skills, and abilities, the majority of items are written at the application or higher levels of cognitive ability, which requires more complex thought processing.”

It’s for this reason the rumor goes around that if you have a lot of SATA (select all that apply) questions on your test then you must be doing well as these are considered to be at the evaluate level.

It is for this reason that nursing educators repeat the catchphrase “critical thinking” . . . over, and over, and over . . . . and over.

Schools UNDERSTAND that it is important for students to critically think in order to do well on nursing exams but they often fail in educating students past the REMEMBER level of Bloom’s taxonomy . . . (see what I did there?).

Hence the 2 hour lectures with 4,746 slides that the instructor just glazes over. Or the “read pages 2-876 tonight and your test will be tomorrow”

Unfortunately, there are a couple things wrong with nursing education that limit the student's ability to progress toward the ANALYSIS level:

There is WAY too much to learn in nursing school in just a couple short years

Professors know how to say Critical Thinking, but they are not instructed on how to teach it

Students aren’t taught or encouraged on HOW to ask the right questions

Without getting into the changes that need to occur in nursing education too much, I will simply say that as a student it is your job to do a couple of things:

Learn how to ask GOOD questions (your professors says Steroids cause osteoporosis . . . WHY???)

Learn to cut the clutter (look at each chapter . . . what is the essential information to know?)

You now have a secret weapon. . .

You know exactly what TYPES of questions the NCLEX® is going to contain.

Begin now to train yourself to think at the analysis level. Take harder questions.  This is the reason we have created analysis level questions right into our massive bank of NCLEX Questions!.

Parts of an NCLEX® Question

Now that you know what type of questions to expect on test day, let’s move on to the actual questions themselves.

The NCLEX® is composed entirely of multiple choice questions.  Your ability to work as a nurse comes down to a single test with multiple choice answer options.

Think it’s important to understand a bit more about these questions?

Basically you have two options:

Complain about the tests, the questions, and the answers.

Learn everything you can about the questions and how to dissect them and demolish them.

Since only one of these options is going to get you closer to RN, let’s focus on learning how to dissect the questions..

So let’s break down the anatomy of the question:

Item: the entire question and answer

Stem: the actual question, what is being asked

Options: possible responses

Correct answer: umm, the correct answer

Distractors: incorrect answers

Stem:

The stem will have a few characteristics that you must consider.

Complete sentence

Incomplete sentence – becomes complete with the correct answer

Positive – asks a question regarding what is true

Negative – asks a question regarding what is false.  Be very careful with these questions.  These tend to be missed more often simply because students fail to read the entire question. ALWAYS read the entire stem carefully and completely.

Look for these words when determining if the stem is negative:

Except

Not

Never

Further

Least

Avoid

Contraindicated

Sometimes these items will be identified with bold or italic lettering but ultimately it is your job as the student to read the question and identify what is actually being asked . . . so read carefully.

The Nursing Process

The nursing process is the foundation to everything we do for our patients.  Like it or not, understanding the nursing process is key to your success in nursing school and on the NCLEX®

So what is the nursing process anyway?

ADPIE . . . sound familiar?

It should . . . if those 5 letters mean nothing to you, then it is time to crack open your fundamentals book and review the nursing process.

A- assessment

D- diagnosis

P- plan

I- implement

E- evaluate

Because problem solving and critical thinking require a framework to conduct appropriately, nursing has developed the ADPIE framework to aid in decision making with regards to patient care.

For the purpose of the test it is important to treat ADPIE as a rigid set of steps . . meaning that you don’t implement a plan until you have assessed the patient.  You don’t make a plan until you have a working diagnosis.

When reading a question it is important to identify which component of the nursing process the question is actually referring to and to select an answer that is in line with that component.

It is also essential that you work through the nursing process step by step as discussed above.

References:

Anderson, L.W. & Krathwohl, D.R. (Eds). (2001). A taxonomy for learning, teaching and assessing. A revision of Bloom’s taxonomy of educational objectives. New York: Addison Wesley Longman, Inc.

Ms D

10/30/2018