Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag along | they/them
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Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
Look buddy, i’m just trying to make it to Friday.
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queer is a gender, sexuality, romantic orientation, political alignment, and mission statement, babey
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Hello tumblr I heard you like changeling stories
Edit: If you want a physical copy of this comic!
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People assume she’s a newcomer, a fad, a frivolous flash in the pan. But she was there when the first pumpkin pies were being baked; she was there when the first colonist cookbook was published, in 1769. She was there when the British raided the rest of the world for flavors they could steal, and while her appearance may be sweet and adorable, her hooves are soaked in the blood of empire, for without conquest, she could never have been born.
But people, unwilling to consider the structure beneath the surface, look at her and see only big eyes, a flowing mane, a coat as soft as silk and as dark as midnight, and they mock her adherents, call them “basic” as if anything could be considered truly basic when it had been built through so many crimes.
Every piece of her was stolen. Every pinch and particle was the subject of a terrible war. The price of cinnamon is slaughter. The fee for nutmeg is subjugation. And now we serve her sacraments with whipped cream and sugar sprinkles, as if both those things had not also been stolen at some point, as if a foamy cloud could somehow clean the blood from those long lashes.
In these modern days, her most common manifestation is blended with sweet cream and coffee—a drink that has many gods of its own, that has sparked even more wars than her cinnamon pungency. But for most of her time, she has been carried in the pie.
Pumpkin pie. The ultimate jewel in the crown of colonialism. Cooking techniques from Europe, spices stolen from India, Asia, and the Middle East, and a vegetable crown taken from the Americas, sliced and mashed and mixed until its wildness is lost, subsumed into custardy blandness, become one with the melting pot.
She’s not a newcomer. And she’s not nice, either, and so few of those who worship her understand, anymore, that she’s not a god of whimsy or basic delights.
She is, now and always, a god of war.
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I'm still over here dreaming.
Dreaming of making raised garden beds out of reusable pallets (the heat-treated kind) and giving them away.
Dreaming of neighborhood meal-trains for families in need. Just had a baby? Surgery? The loss of a loved one? Your doorstep is now covered in casseroles and cookies. Yes we know you're gluten-intolerant, all the food is safe for you.
Dreaming of having my son's friends over after school and just... letting them be here. Your favorite snacks are in the fridge, your favorite comics are on the shelf, the dogs are so happy to see you. I'm sorry your grandma doesn't understand that you like boys. Your mom's at work still? That's ok, I've got her number, if she has to stay late we're having spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.
Dreaming of every mother attending every trans-child's wedding.
Dreaming of my kiddo growing up and not just LOVING women and girls but RESPECTING them and VALUING them, getting to see other men in his life setting the BEST examples.
Dreaming of parking lots covered in solar panels.
Dreaming of not needing parking lots.
Dreaming of teaching kids about bees.
Dreaming of clean water and air. Dreaming of streets safe for tricycles and dog-walking. Dreaming of fruit trees in neighbors yards, and bringing them pies in the fall.
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reblog to give the prev a hot chocolate with (optional) whipped cream and marshmallows
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[image description: A pointy – and grinning – green dragon holds lance in his giant claw. On the lance, the largest marshmallow you’ve ever seen. Lightning crackles in the background and a bright orange fire lights the scene. Text reads, “3, SMAURS, the Small God of Perfectly Applied Flame”]
They call on him so much more than they ever realize.
Want a car to start? Want an engine to fire, an egg to cook, a cigarette to light? Want to go through your life without being wreathed in a halo of brief, brilliant fire, burning away to nothing in the moments between the cinder and the scream? You call upon Smaurs, for without his grace, the fire goes where it will, does what it will, untamable. He is not a god of fire per se, leaves that act of terrible creation to greater forces than his own, but the control of fire? The application of fire? That’s entirely on his beautifully scaled shoulders.
They call on him so much more than they ever realize, and he rewards them with days unblistered, with hours unimmolated, with the knowledge of what it is to exist without burning. He loves them, in his distant way, for when they were children…
When they were children, they were his. No one calls upon a god of perfectly applied flame more often or more clearly than a child just embracing the catch and the candle, just learning how to angle a magnifying glass or light a match. He has sat at millions of campfires, marshmallow sticky on his claws, glorying in the taste of chocolate and graham and the sweet, bright wonder of young things on the verge of catching fire in their hands for the very first time.
They will grow to serve other gods, greater means of destruction, other ways of burning. But when they are children, they are his, and when they are his, he may do as any god does, and attend to his worshippers as they so ardently request.
In his claws, the marshmallows never burn, and neither do the hands that hold them.
It is the best protection he can give.
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My Furnace Broke :(
Hi kids, it's your favorite storytelling chicken, and my Furnace has decided to die. It also decided to take the A/C unit out with it.
This is both very expensive to fix, and also kind of urgent: the more observant of you may have noticed that it is November, and getting onto winter here in the Rockies.
Look at this little man, huddling on my feet for warmth.
I have *some* emergency funds, but not enough to cover even a temporary fix, and that's also the fund that vet, medical, and car repair bills come out of, all of which I've had too much of this year.
I'm currently pitting four HVAC companies against each other to get the best offer possible, and getting the paperwork done for state subsidies, refunds and other discounts, but I still need your help.
Thank you all, everything you can do helps.
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i don't know who needs to hear this
but you don't owe your parents a goddamned thing
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I will open the fucking TikTok app just to watch this video multiple times
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"never trust how you feel abt ur life after 9pm" is a spring & summer & fall rule. for winter it's never trust how u feel abt ur life after 4pm
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