#I cannot go through a January with no snow

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

How am I supposed to think it is winter when it looks like early spring outside?! Or late fall. Probably late fall since less stuff is flooded. I’m pretty sure El Niños aren’t supposed to go this hard. “Global warming isn’t real” I’m going to smash your face into the mud that is SUPPOSED to be covered in a foot of snow by now. I WANTED to go tubing this year but the slope is fucking dry and also my plants have no insulation from the elements. They fields have nothing keeping the dirt down! The birds flew all that way south for nothing! Although the ones that fly here from the arctic are probably having a field day. Maybe not though, they do fluff up more in winter. I should probably be enjoying the fact that I can still use the sidewalks but I can’t! Because this is fucking WEIRD!

[mercurial-chuckles]

✨ I'm super grateful you stopped by ✨

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Delirious Decisions

Note: Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner Credits to me. Photo Credits to the internet. Thank you :)

Just FYI: Masterlist is undergoing major editing!

Updated: January 25, 2025

Indulge Away!

Don't Flip your Wig, Steve

Steve and you time traveled. Your Steve is not happy meeting the old Steve because he shows interest in you.

His Fiore

Steve smexy Rogers moves into the neighborhood, and one evening, he catches you sneaking into the building opposite his through the fire escape. He watches curiously, slightly amused and, quite frankly, amazed by you. Guess what he does next? He writes a note, signs it with his middle name, Grant, and slips it under your door. How will you discover that Grant is none other than Captain America?

Love's Sanctity

Steve is there when you feel like you're falling apart, when the weight of stress becomes overwhelming. He sees right through you and always knows exactly what to do to make you feel better.

Berserk Captain Rogers

Steve has gone feral, and you are the only one who can calm him

Subdue

Alpha!Steve is giving a preview on what happens when someone dares to harm his mate.

Drugged Delusion of Mrs. Rogers

Some angsty goodness with the misunderstanding arc, and Steve fucking the misunderstanding out of you.

Wise Men Say

100-word drabble for Flash Fiction challenge

Not so Vanilla Man

Steve proves to you he is far from Vanilla. You catch my drift? This is just overloaded fluffiest smut. (My first attempt at Smut! :D)

Fortuitous Fate

You travel to the 40s, and meet Steve Rogers. That meeting marks important in their journey

Havenbrooke Trails

To finish your novel, you go to Havenbrooke for inspiration on the insistence of your editor. However, you find more than some inspiration for your novel there.

Oblivious Heart

Summary to be written

Hide 'N' Boink

Summary to be written

Drugged Courage

Steve gets drugged on a mission and inhales sex pollen, but no one notices any difference as he is very impassive. He has been craving y/n, and he takes her to his quarters as soon as he returns from the mission.

A Tale of Timely Interventions

You were sent on a mission in the 40s. It was highly unusual, and you play a bigger role in Captain America's life than you can even remotely comprehend. You also had no clue that Steve Rogers feels strongly for you. (Final Part Jan, 2025)

Snowed In

You were not supposed to be on that mission, but you were, and it was a trap. There was also a snowstorm, and you were stuck. Steve is furious when he learns about this and goes to lengths to reach you.

Starlord Ruffles Steve's Feathers

Steve jealous of Peter Quill flirting with you.

Captain's Boinking Escapades

Guess what Tony has found!

Crimson Tranquility

There is more to your husband than meets the eye.

Giddy Affairs

A congressman drabble!

On the qui vive

A fluffy drabble (ft. mafia!Bucky)

Yield to me

A fluffy drabble (ft. adventurous Alpine)

Strings

Bucky's housewife kink gets activated!

Pluvial Kisses!

Tooth rotting fluff, Bucky being the absolute fuckin dream of a man! *heavy sigh*

Catharsis

Summary to be drafted

The Time Thor Third-Wheeled

The title sums about it!

Confessions of Mr. Grumpaholic

I really need to draft a summary for this. :D

Enlivened Mornings

Summary to be drafted

Bucky Barnes vs Ethan Stark

Dad!Bucky fic set in the Sappy Sunday Thought universe.

Your Restive Man

This is a simple fluffy blurb. Clingy Bucky who cannot stay apart from you.

Stranded & Succored

You were having a bad day and decided to drive to calm your nerves. However, you get stranded in the middle of nowhere with no phone. And this tall, gorgeous man is pulling up in his truck and claiming your heart and body.

Wish Come True

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction challenge

Stucky x Reader | Steve x Reader x Bucky

Captain Softly Stern and Sergeant Toughly Tender Vignettes

Collection of oneshots set in a universe.

Unwaveringly Homebound

100-word drabble for the Flash Fiction Challenge

I met them, and now I'm their queen

Angsty fluff & confessions to get it off their chest before the new year starts.

Half-baked, damn

Easy peasy, sweetheart. They’d said. It’s for the people. They’d said.

Permanence (F!Reader version)

Love transcends time.

Permanence (OFC version)

Love transcends time.

Sneaky & Sly

A blue hoodie, a sly man, and domesticated bliss

Blissful Summer Bruises

Some domesticated bliss with two hot super soldiers

The Pantry Affairs

A day in your life with two extremely wonderful and protective men

The Curious Affairs of Mr. Holmes

Waltz Into My Heart

This is the chaos corner. I'm still figuring out an efficient way to organize these. So, don't mind the mumble jumble.

Flash Fiction Challenge

Weeklong Thingamajig

SMUTTY SEPTEMBER FEST

ASKS

Alpha Steve

Blissful Adventures of Mr. Softly Stern & Mr. Toughly Tender

Bucky QuotesJust Wondering 01 Wanna be Tagged?

[gublernatural]

spring equinox | s.w.

my submission for the Fanfic Writers of the SPN Fandom April Challenge <3

prompt: I missed feeling the sun on my skin.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is not only dead, but stuck in Hell (so sorry) but there are no real descriptions of what happened down there, sam is grieving hard in the beginning, i actually edited a fic for once (thank u for beta-ing @crowleysmistress)

summary: the spring brings flowers, vampire hunts, and a beautiful gift for a grieving sam.

January first. The marker of the new year, a symbol of change. It never made sense to Sam; January first being the start of the calendar, yeah, sure, but seeing it as a new beginning never made any sense. What was new about it?

Dead-set in the middle of the winter months, bringing Kansas nothing but dreary, cold weather. No celebrations that were particularly enticing to Sam, and this year Sam can’t even bring himself to accompany Dean to the bar to watch whatever performances are playing on the TV, play wing man so Dean can “start the new year off with a bang” (his words), and countdown to midnight.

No, Sam is stuck in bed, stuck in the same pattern he’d been in at the beginning of what has felt like a forever winter.

Grief.

Sam’s most familiar friend. It’s haunted him his entire life, quite literally since he was a baby. No matter how much older he grows, how many changes he has tried to make or goals he has tried to achieve, he cannot escape loss. Just as January cannot escape the dreadful winter.

However, this time was different for Sam. This loss, this pain, this grief, felt different. It felt like a blizzard, surrounding him in nothing but cold and giving him a bone-deep ache in his chest. His steps felt heavy as he walked, as if he was trying to track through foot upon foot of snow.

His girl. The one person in the world who was his. His to hold, to protect, to love. The one person in this world who was able to handle all of him in every kind of way.

You were a hunter, too. Sam remembered a conversation he’d had with his brother just a few days before you hunted them down, quite literally. A conversation about making it work with another hunter, someone who understood the life they lived.

Then you showed up, leaning against the impala, heated about their heavy steps alerting the ōkami to their presence, ready to cuss both of them out despite it turning out to be a successful hunt after all.

Sam, instantly enamored with you, let your angry rant go in one ear and out the other. He looked at you with the puppy dog eyes he saved for when he really, really wanted something and said, “ Do you want to get a drink with us?” He wasn't sure if your face or Dean’s scrunched up faster. Your rant stopped, and you stumbled over an answer, completely forgetting about what was pissing you off in the first place. “Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” you accepted. Sam ignored the way Dean mumbled a “great” under his breath.

And now you are gone. Years later, after a long journey you’d taken with the Winchesters, you were gone. Not just gone, but stuck. Stuck in hell. And there was nothing Sam could do about it and that hurt worse than anything he’d ever been through.

“C’mon, man, it’s Jody,” Dean ushered, resting against Sam’s door frame. “You know she wouldn’t be calling unless she needed us. Both of us.”

Sam knew he was right, even if it was an excuse for Dean to finally get him out of bed. “Okay,” Sam sighed. Dean tried to fight the smirk that was growing on his face, happy to see his brother finally getting vertical. Sam rubbed his face, trying to push off the exhaustion, anger, and sadness he had been feeling. He moved slowly as he got ready, not feeling any motivation to rush.

By the time Sam met Dean in the car, the sun had started to set. “Let’s go, Sammy. We got a couple hours ride ahead of us,” Dean cheered. There was no complaint about Sam taking too long to get ready, no music that was too loud, and no songs that Dean knew Sam didn’t like. Sam pretended not to notice how thoughtful Dean was being. No chick flick moments, Sam thought.

he hunt was something that Claire had stumbled onto. It took all of them a few days to figure out what they were hunting, and even longer to successfully gank it; allowing February to roll into March, and snow start to turn into rain. It was a group success, one that had Sam feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could be okay without you. Not good, but functioning. Enough that he could get back to doing what he does best; saving people, hunting things, the family business. Outside of you, that was his purpose.

You would want him to keep going, that he knew.

“You alright?” Dean asked as they took their seats in the impala. Sam felt warm for the first time in months. His belly full with Jody and Alex’s home cooked meal, his brother by his side, and a new outlook on what he needs to be doing. The blankets on his bed did not provide the same warmth, the same comfort, that being around his family did. Even if it was missing someone, he belongs with his family.

As Dean drove, Sam spent his time online, looking for the next case. He braced himself with how he approached it. Dean would shut him down if he thought he was getting too eager, dealing with his grief by putting his own life on the line.

“Hey, look,” Sam broke the silence as Dean rolled up to a redlight a few hours away from Jody’s, on their way home. “Like 30 miles that way,” Sam vaguely gestured over Dean’s shoulder, “They found two bodies drained of all of their blood two days ago.” Sam raised an eyebrow at his brother, a silent invitation for a detour. Dean shrugged tiredly, but turned towards the town.

A simple vamp hunt that only took a few days for the brothers to wrap up. Sammy woke up on the morning of the Spring Equinox, feeling like he could finally start his new year. Surrounded by sunshine, Sam deemed March 20th his new January 1st, and set a resolution for himself: I am going to always keep fighting. For the people who needed to be saved, for his brother, for you. 

That was all he needed to do. Keep fighting.

The Impala slowed to a stop just a few yards outside of the bunker. Far enough that Sam couldn’t see the front door through the trees. “You good?” Dean asked as Sam stepped out, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, you should park it in the garage. I need a little R and R for a few days.” Dean nodded, happy his brother was able to admit that for once, and pulled off towards the garage.

Sam walked down the dirt path with a pep in his step that hadn’t been there when they first left for Jody’s. He felt different. Lighter. Warmer.

“I’ll have to thank her,” Sam thought, grateful for Jody’s impact on his life.

Sam scanned the clearing in front of the bunker, hunter’s instinct. His eyes followed the horizon until the woods came into view. He inspected them from a distance, making sure nothing weird was out there. And nothing was, so he continued his search until his eyes landed on the front door of the bunker.

His eyebrows furrowed as he noticed legs dangling from the concrete pad atop the door. He let out a gasp as his gaze drifted upwards. He would recognize that face anywhere, any day, from any distance.

His girl.

Sam’s backpack was on the ground and his long legs were sprinting up the hill before he could register where he was going. Before those hunter’s instincts could kick in. He could hear your laughter as he made his way to you. Your real laughter, not a recording or an old voicemail of it. Your genuine, true laughter. If Sam thought he was warm before, he was overheating now.

Sam tried his best to be gentle as he pulled you into his arms. He was like an excited dog, one that has the best of intentions but forgets how big he really is. All of sudden, you were surrounded by nothing but Sam. For the first time in what felt like years, you were finally home.

Sam allowed himself to bask in the idea of you before he pulled away, “Are you real?” Something he should’ve considered before he was within harming distance, especially given his history. You nodded, raising your forearm to show the cut from where you’d tested yourself with silver. After your time in Hell, you had to be sure for yourself you were real. Sure, you felt real, the world around you seemed real, but you had been tortured with it all, and much worse, before. Your guard was up and it was going to take a lot to break it down.

“I tried it all, I swear. Silver, holy water, I even tried to find Ruby’s knife just to be sure.” Sam’s face twisted in confusion. You sighed, knowing you owed him an explanation. First, you claimed your seat back in front of the bunker door. You’d been deprived of all things nature for far too long. It was the end of March, when it finally starts to feel like Spring again in Kansas, and you wanted to bask in all the world had to offer for as long as possible.

As Sam took his place on the ground next to you, he fired off another question, “Why are you out here? You could’ve gone in.” He was still wary of you being real. The real you knew how to get in, yet you were sitting outside.

You shrugged, this time a slow, sadder shrug, and answered, “I missed feeling the sun on my skin.” And with that, Sam understood. He knew you were stuck in Hell, he knew you remembered every second of it, he knew you were real.

With a sad smile, he pulled you closer and pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “You don’t have to tell me now, you don’t have to tell me at all, you just have to tell me that you are going to be okay.”  Maybe it would take days, weeks, years, decades, he didn’t care. You only had to promise him you would be okay, eventually.

“I will, I have you.” You replied, pressing yourself closer to him. You were sure you would be. Not today, probably not even soon, but one day. You were here, real, alive. You could feel the sun on your skin and Sam’s skin pressed against your own. That was all you needed to have a chance for a new beginning. No matter the day. 

[wings-of-ink]

Hello everyone!

I just wanted to pop in and say hey and give some updates. They're all very mild, but I feel like I've been quiet lately so I wanted to pop something out here for you so you get a feel for where I'm headed.

I have some asks that have piled up and I will be chipping away at them here and there. I had a weird week that I am recovering from, and my mind has been super unfocused lately. I'm doing better now, but had a bout with a few days of insomnia and anxiety. I am already a sleepy-sad mess in the winter, so this does me no favors. I'm popping in when I have some bursts of energy. Your asks and comments have made me smile, think, and get pumped for the days to come though, so I thank you for that. ^_^

Even though my energy is down, I am still finding enjoyment in working on some of the extras! Even if I can only work in short bursts, it's helped me find some respite. I have worked out a short-form character creation for the Cursed Birthday extra. I also have that outlined. My goal is to have that released by the end of this month!

I still plan on opening a Patreon soon, but I have kept putting it on the back burner as I focus on just making it through this time of year, lol. I am just so stupid-tired most of the evening when I have free time and am very over it. In future years, I'll be working ahead during the other seasons and then take a solid block of time between December and January off. I vote that we hibernate.

Before I open up Patreon, I want to have some work banked up and ready to go. Part of the benefits will be voting on what you want to read, but I need to have some basis to go off of for that and content to put out in between. I'll post some teasers and samples so you can see if the extras I have in store will tickle your fancy. I have a running list of both SFW and NSFW extras I'd like to write. Someone asked me earlier to spill (leak) some of my tea on these, so I will happily share a few things I have cooking in my noggin.

Regular (mild) Extras: * A series of stories about being "snowed in" with each of the ROs and how they spend the day with MC. * Each RO will get character-specific stories, featuring cute and romantic moments for things like Zahn's birthday or baking cakes with Oswin.

Spicy Extras: * A series of tales that are erotic dreams that the MC has while traveling with the group. Anything can happen here. * Each RO will have stories featuring spicy content relative to their character's desires. For example, in the first month of Patreon, Oswin will be featured in the spicy tier. The story is titled, "Honey," and is interactive. You can use your imagination. (shout out to the anon who already read my mind and called me on this, lol)

**Addendum** I remember what else I was going to include here so I'm editing. I have some corrections (typos and grammar and such) and a patch for Zahn's moment in Chapter 5 to put through but I cannot get the itch "Butler" application to work on my laptop still. I can't patch without breaking saves all over again. I am trying to find another computer I can do this on so I don't break saves just for a patch.

I think those were the main bits I wanted to touch on (hell if I actually remember, lol). I am recovering from my weird week and am happy it's the weekend. My new kitties are doing fabulous as well. They are very cute and keep me on my toes. Oh, and Arlo knows how to open doors, so there's that. Miles, who was very shy at first, has become a sweet little socialite too.

Arlo just looks grumpy, but he is an absolute ham.

Miles likes to lay with his feets dangling.

[fayewoodss]

Dream Team Content: January 2024 to January 2025

I compiled all Dream Team video content/time-based media into one Google Sheets document to measure their overall content output. This includes videos, streams, shorts, and appearances in other CC content. I did not include Tiktok videos nor Instagram stories, mainly because those were either ads or party videos/fan sightings. The first page measures them all together with their total time spent on videos, streams, etc. The second page breaks down specifically what videos and streams they put out. I even organized Sapnap's streams into a Kick section and a Twitch section. The third page shows their appearances in each other's content as well as any other CC content. Links to VODs, dates, and times are all included.

Admittedly, this was born of some discourse I've seen of people pitting DT against each other and trying to decide their individual "worth" based on their output of content. This data and these graphs are not meant to be a negative reflection on any member of the Dream Team because work and productivity go way beyond screen time and cannot be measured simply by numbers. On top of that, 2/3 of the Dream Team faced controversies that were nearly career ending. Despite Dream addressing his allegations in December 2023, I think the sheer size of them and the internet firestorm that came of it definitely affected 2024, so I think it's fair to count those circumstances as reasons for minimal content.

On a positive note, they were also working on Fusion and while they each may not put the exact same amount of work into that project, it's clearly something they've been creating together and workshopping for awhile before it was ready to be in debuted. And they continue to work on it!

This was really fun to do and way too time consuming, but hey, I have three snow days this week. I already built two shelves, organized half my room, lesson planned for the week... might as well collect and sort through useless data, too, lol.

[108garys]

Pyromegan: A life without Saturdays(1972)

so here is the first part of sole survivor Megan's post fire life, I would again remind that this is going to be a painful read in places and touch on subjects of: grief/trauma, isolation, controlling parental figures(Carson), child neglect, and a bunch of other stuff

It's around 3000 words and the length of time/word count of any future parts greatly depends on how much I think it needs, so yeah brace yourself

[January 16th 1972/Megan]

Mom and Dad were at it again, like a broken record that plays over and over again... Her attempt at hiding her report card had failed and their reaction sounded bad, Mom was talking about her, Dad was talking about work and both argued back and forth about adult things... Megan tried to talk to her Mom about it but was sent away, she tried to watch cartoons but Dad changes the channel, Dennis bristled over his record collection and everything else as Anthony went to let Tanya in as she came home from work. Mom yelled at Dennis to pack his records away in the attic which made him bristle further and Dad wanted quiet, she considers locking herself in her room and not coming out until they forget about her grades but decides against it, going back down stairs and quietly out the back door...

Megan knows she's not supposed to do it but none the less she risks the lesser trouble of playing out on the old tire swing in the backyard at night, moon light reflects off the snow, painfully freezing her bare feet whenever they touch ground as she spins faster and faster, the frozen air chilling her to the bone through her thin pyjamas as she retreats into a world of her own... Her doll sits watch, guarding her from the kitchen, staring out with a smile next to the burner as she falls... but Megan doesn't know, doesn't see as the fire spreads and her home crumbles, deaf to all in this chilling moment...

Everything is numb at the end, red faced and shaky as she staggers towards the house, near deliriously cold, she barely registers as she's scooped up and carried off, drifting away from exhaustion, her face is shielded as she catches a glimpse of Tanya's white shoes... 

...why were they so far off the ground?

__

... she lays sick and tired in her long sleep, Dad had not scolded her for playing outside when she shouldn't, Mom had not checked in on her, her brothers and sister make no sound and her doll... She is gone and a bear has taken her place, a puritan in a bonnet and apronned dress, the room around her is empty of all the things that make it her's... She looks at that bear in her groggy state and she couldn't explain why but she didn't like it. Not at all...

__

[Late January/1972]

Megan stands alone, all alone under stormy skies and black umbrellas, among a forest of dark trees, standing tall and sad faced all about her, limbs brushing down her back, "No one knows why such a tragedy occurs..." He speaks to the mournful gathering as five stones mark the path she cannot follow... Reverend Carson speaks in his teacher's voice to the moving shadows under a dark canopy and she hasn't said a word, not since that night, she can't think about anything when everything is gone...

She has little but this uncomfortable dress, much worse than what she had for Sunday school... when it's over and the shadows dissipate, whispering condolences on the wind, it's just two left but she is still left by herself, "I want to go home." She breaks her silence in the back of the car, he does not look as he drives through the town. "Child... You have no home to return to, you will remain with me now." He says it like she doesn't understand but she's not stupid, she understands... she still wants it...

__

...after a long absence from school she returns to her classes, the teachers go easier on her now, now it's 'not her fault' that her grades are bad but it doesn't matter, Megan still does her work attendance or not, in his house she has many rules and he has none, like a life without Saturdays, school and Sunday school and everything else she must learn... The sad faces of adults the, the meanness of on the swings, they say the papers said that it was her fault, it didn't say that, she read it but they won't listen, no one ever does, not that they did before...

As summer approaches so do report cards, despite her other teachers having been lenient on her, it wasn't good enough for Him, she sat on the floor in front of the fireplace as he lectures like he's giving a sermon about the fires of hell, pacing living room and she doesn't look, holding that stupid puritan bear... Staring into it's shiny reddish brown eyes and digging her fingers into its stiff articulated limbs, the fabric of the bear's grey dress crumpled. "...how you do reflects on me..." He impresses upon her but she is deaf to it all, she wants to argue but the words escape her so she puts her head down on the bear, "... you have been coddled long enough..." Megan pulls at the bears limbs, tears burning the edges of her eyes, she tossed the bear in the fireplace. Flames licking at its pale yellow fur, blackening the white bonnet and apron, staring at it until she's yank to her feet and spun to face him. "Look at me!" Carson grasps her by the shoulders, fury overwhelming, "Everyone, everyone in Little Hope has given you so much and you insist on being a feral child." He lets go and steps back, for moment she fears she may be hit, she stands still as he takes a deep breath and takes the charred bear from the fire, smothering the flames, he turns to her anger still evident but much calmer. "I expect better from you, no more games, you hear me?" He trashes the bear, handing her the garbage, "Your grades will improve and you will respect me."

"Yes Sir." She addresses him, pushing herself to speak when not doing so would be worse... She does as she's told, taking the bear out with the rest of the garbage, she looks down the road at the clear, empty night and wonders not for the first time what it would be like to run away...

__

[June 16th 1972/Megan]

For her 12th birthday Megan wanted music, it's what she was good at and all the things she has are not for her, not really, shirts too big, books with writing in the margins and other pre loved things... All the love must have been used up to leave it behind, she still loves what she loved before, she still goes to her house sometimes and imagines herself at the top of the stairs with all the love she has and a box of matches to light the way home... But they don't last, striking brightly and burning fleetingly... It only took one.

She stays home, drowning the wrecked shell of her life in enough tears to swallow up the the beast that swallowed up her family, she starts her day in her room but Mom does not come to wake her like last year, the others are gone from their rooms, they should be downstairs... Waiting for her on her birthday... But there is nothing left of the kitchen which should smell of familiar breakfast and the coffee they wouldn't let her try until she's older... She's older now and they're not here.

She sits on the front porch, her eyes dry and the day still, she doesn't know how long she stays in that memory of the only family photo returned to her from Dad's work but her attention is drawn to the sudden stop of a boy on a bike, Kurt Mathis, he's in her grade and his older sister, Jo, is tutoring her over the summer but she hasn't really spoken to him much, she knew that his brother was friends with her brother, before they both went away... He let's his bike fall to the ground as he comes over to her, backpack in hand and sandy blond hair a mess. She sits up straight unsure what to expect, she's never had to fight a boy for real before. "Megan! I was looking all over for you," He says as he approaches, slightly red faced from riding around in the sun, "When your birthday was mentioned in Sunday school I thought Reverend Carson might... I don't know." he stops not wanting to be mean by pointing out that Megan didn't get a birthday party like normal kids, he pulls a record sleeve out of his bag, which he also drops to the dirt as he holds out the record to her with both hands the cover art is familiar, she thinks Dennis had that in his collection. "My brother was borrowing this before he went away, I figured he can't really give it back... So I thought I'd give it to you for your birthday." He looks at his feet as she takes it, unable to help how her hands shake a little, she can't look at him, can't speak as he says the well practiced. "Happy birthday." 

Carson was very strict about the types of music he allowed in the house, he would not approve, she carefully held this piece of Dennis to her chest, unable to make more tears or more words, she nods and when he asks, "Do you want to go to the park?" She nods again, following beside as he walks his bike and chats about things that don't quite reach her... He encourages her to play on the swings with him and compete over who can go higher, she should have thanked him, Mom and Dad and now especially the Reverend enforce that it's bad manners not to but she couldn't get the words out, for a brief moment it all went away... Even if just for a moment.

__

...she hides the record, playing it only when she's at the house by herself, Carson could not take it if he didn't know about it. Multiple times a week she has tutoring, Jo is a few grades ahead of her, her way of explaining things helps. Sometimes Kurt let's her play in their treehouse after, he shows her how to be real careful on the branch outside his window and that his grandma would have a fit if she knew, Kurt and his siblings live with their grandparents... all of Megan's grandparents are far far away and she's not sure where to find them... But Megan likes Kurt's grandparents, it reminds her that they're a little bit the same and a little bit different.

Carson doesn't know about the treehouse or the record or the fact that Jo's lessons take an hour less than he's paying for but she's not telling him anything she doesn't have to, at the house she is expected to be seen and not heard, keep everything tidy and demonstrate what she learnt. On Sunday she is a reflection of him and his expectations... On other days he teaches other things, like the dangers of the occult and what to watch out for... He must know a lot about witchcraft but she doesn't feel very prepared... Sometimes she goes to her home in secret still, she wonders how many more secrets she will keep.

__

When school starts up again Megan sticks close to her new friends, Jo and Kurt and Jen, the youngest kid in their family, walk to school with her. At fourteen Jo is nice but teenagers, no matter how cool, don't want to hang out with kids when cooler older classmates can do or go anywhere and know adult secrets about the world and how to be liked by everyone. 

Jo holds Jen's hand as they walk, the girl is too little to know much of anything and is ecstatic to learn about everything, new animal facts, a bigger number in math, a new joke she just learnt. Jen was always excited when her and Megan had the same hair, usually pigtails, which happens more often than not, but Jen is five years younger at seven years old and while it's cute for little kids, Carson says Megan's hair is more presentable this way. 

Kurt is her first friend who is a boy, the girls in their grade tease her for it but they were already teasing her for things she had no say in and at least now she's not sitting alone at lunch. He showed her his favourite games and books, the best trees to climb and the quickest shortcuts if she was late to class... Deep down in the most secret part of her heart she sometimes imagines that her brothers and sister are away like his brother is and one day they'll all be finished overseas and come back, it must be nice over there because Kurt said Glenn decided to stay longer... People are always very serious about it on the news but Carson changes the channel or sends her to do some chores or homework whenever it comes up, not that Megan cares about serious adults on the news anyhow.

Her teachers seem happy with her improvement, which gets Carson off her back a little bit, not enough to avoid regular lectures on whatever she did wrong that day or to get any sort of reward but at least he's not telling her how she makes him look bad as much.

__

[Early December/1972]

When winter settled in and the end of the year drew nearer, Kurt's grandmother approaches Carson after the Sunday service, she smiles at Megan warmly as she stands to the Reverend's side only half listening. They speak idly about the topic of this week's sermon before she gets to her point. "...if you've the time in your busy schedule, we would love to have Megan over, she's a delight to have around and being the first Christmas since..." 

She hesitates to say 'since Megan's whole family died in a fire' right in front of Megan but it's not like Megan doesn't already know what she means, Carson nods swiftly to save the kind woman from the awkwardness, "A kind offer, Gladys, I was unaware Jo was so taken with her after her summer tutoring job?"

"Yes, well as you know her and Kurt have formed quite the friendship this past summer." Megan barely has time to think about taking a single step away from the conversation when Carson's hand comes to rest on her shoulder to keep her in place, "Of course, She's a very shy girl, always keeping to herself." He smiles with no trace of the irritation building underneath, she's come to recognise the subtle difference when he's playing the Reverend... "Not at all, the two took to each other like a fish to water, they spent most afternoons playing after her tutoring was finished."

"I see," He says, his grip on Megan's shoulder tightens imperceptibly, she looks at her feet as he glances down at her but general politeness prevents him from outright mentioning Jo ripping him off on the hours he'd paid for, especially when Megan's most recent report cards were positive... "It's generous of your family to open your home to Megan, but I'm unsure if we can accept, there are many considerations at such an important time for our community." The old woman nods understandingly. "I would not wish to burden you in such a busy period, should you reconsider the offer stands..."

Megan didn't really listen much after that or to the various other adults who attempted to strike up conversation after church, Carson never let her have anything nice...

Once the front door to his house shut behind him, he turned to her with an undisguised frown. "You're not going, not after your deliberate deception." 

"I didn't do anything-" She protests and he puts a hand up to silence her, "You have zero consideration for making me look negligent with how you've gone behind my back, do you not think for a single second that it reflects negatively on me if I don't know what you've been up to?" Megan bit her tongue from talking back when he started on the same excuse that he always used to justify taking things away from her, not mentioning that it's not her fault for him being disinterested in how she spends her free time... That would only lead to him making sure she has less of it. Instead she looks him in the eye and tells him a barefaced lie. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

He crossed his arms, clearly not buying her remorse but doesn't call it out, she continues pleading, "Can I please go? You won't have to be troubled by me during Christmas, I'll be good, no one will have anything bad to say about it, I swear." He looks at her unmoved, his mind working overtime on how to benefit from it. He speaks after consideration. "You want to go? Fine, but I expect you to work for it."

Megan knows it's a trap, whatever extra chores he'd pile on her would be unbearable but she knows it's not a real choice anymore, she'd be stuck shoveling snow or something equally terrible and there's nothing she could do about it, not until he felt he made his money back... Her face feels hot and she wants to scream but refuses to cry in front of him. She nods without looking at him, "Good, now I don't want to hear another word from you today." He says sternly, walking away to something more worth his time.

Megan spends the rest of the afternoon through the night up in her room, she could not say another word as if he'd cast an evil spell on her, cursing her... Crushing her under the year in his house, she hid under the covers, hot tears streaming down her face as she imagines leaving everything behind, running and running forever until it all fades away...

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @ctrvpani @conra @kindheartedgummybears @blubary @scootingscooterr @tinynightmarewoman @legenspeople @eframschweigersskincells @aydeenchan @mybrainrotforreal

[docholligay]

On Journaling: How

So, I use a system (“system”) for how I get things down. It involves me having, more or less, three journals:

The purse or pocket journal. I have about 8 dozen of these motherfuckers lying literally everywhere. I, like you might imagine, often have them in a purse or pocket, to write down something if i see it or think of it. I’ve also been known to use my phone, but this ends up getting lost ore than the actual little notebooks.

MY day to day journal. These vary by literally whatever I find on sale ahaha. Some are pretty and intricate, some are dumb as hell. I have to write at least a sentence a day in this. If nothing else happens with it, so be it no problem. I usually leave extra room if I just do that, though. 

My ��revision’ journal. This is if I have something particularly striking I want to noodle on more later. These become much ‘better pieces’. Any creative nonfiction you’ve seen me publish has come out of this journal. 

I normally travel with just the pocket and daily (and sometimes just the pocket) but for very long trips I bring the revision journal. Often if I’m lon a long trip, something is going to get triggered in my head and I’m going to have a whole-ass Good Thought. 

The point of having three is to never get in your fucking head about it. 

So here’s how a usual progression from desperately scribbled note to revised piece would go:

This is what I scribbled down after having a thought in York Minster:

You can’t read that, it’s fine, it’s only important that I read it, “The things we confess to the dead--tree at York Minster” 

Which, sitting in my hotel room at night, with about, oh, 20 minutes of writing? Maybe, became a much longer entry, a part of which is here:

It says, in part: "I think people tell the truth when they think no one will listen. That's why you can tell the dead anything. I just kept reading it. I'm sure I looked like a wacked out and weird American..."

(I have a picture of both the journal I took on the trip and my newer one, to show the wide range of things tht are an ‘appropriate journal’ for me)

Which eventually became this piece of writing here: The Things We Find In the Minster. You can read the whole thing yourself if you want to.

So anyone getting this wild ass idea that I sit down and churn out stuff like above every single day, oh my god, absolutely not. That’s gone through three stages at least of revision. That doesn’t make it less real, i suppose, but it does make it more manicured.

I'm like a cow with my own observations on the world, I need to chew them two or three times before I really figure out how I feel about something. And not everything that I revise is for sharing, because even THEN sometimes it's just too revealing or too personal. I feel strange and awkward about it. One time I revised this whole thing about a friend's wedding because I was like, 'hey what do i have, oh it;'s the gift of memory, and then I was like, 'lol I cannot give them this, ugh, this is really schmaltzy and it feels too..i dunno, it makes me look really soft or like i'm paying too much attention whateve whatever" and that happens not infrequently, but it's still nice to have FOR ME.

This is my system, that works for me, and it works really well on the principle that impressions come first, then, you can fill in the poetry or whatever the fuck later. If i one sentence idea knocks you on the head, fucking take it! I am writing stuff down all the time, as discreetly as possible, things people say, the way things look, whatever pops into my head that I think, "oh this could make for something to have later" but some days look like, "It seems like I'm on the only person on god's green and verdant earth who remembers that it snows in january when I vote on the city budget."

And I'm not perfect, sometimes I forget things, or when I'm revising later, i'm like, "Ah fuck I should have written that down I know I had a thought here" but mostly I think it realy enhances my experience of being alive.

[cleolinda]

JANUARY 11: Panic on a snow day playing Silent Hill 2.

(ALSO) JANUARY 11: Having calmed down and rescued James from an ankle-biter, I roll up to the Happy Burger and start taunting monsters to come out. I am definitely developing a play style of my own.

(Comments directed at my player character are in parentheses.) {Comments directed at the enemy/monster are in brackets and bold.}

[Whispering:] What the fuck was that? 

Why do I say that, when I know exactly what it was. I know what it was. I say this like I don't know. [Imitating monster noise.] I know what it is. 

Come on... I'm gonna stand out here in the parking lot and I’m gonna make them come out to me. I'm not going to get... caught.

{Where are you…? Where are you…? Where are you? Come out.} (That's right, get the stick out. Square up, let's go.) 


[I’m speaking more quietly than in other recordings because it’s a snow day and I’m not alone in the house. In the game, James and I are still out on the town. We are prowling around the burger joint parking lot, since I know from watching many playthroughs that two Lying Figures are inside.] 

Oh, it’s that cloth. [Sigh.] [Cloth draped over a window ledge or opening means you have to climb in through it. I have realized that the monsters will not come outside to meet me.]

{I know you're here. I know it. Come out, come out.} What the fuck is that sound? (All right, come on, quick turn.)

[Inside the restaurant:] So there's one [monster] lying on the floor. You can stomp it all you want. It's—it's playing dead, and it will get back up. It doesn't matter how much you try to—see? I'm just gonna squish it. [I have James demonstrate how hitting the monster does not provoke any reaction. I forget that you cannot see this.] There's one in the back—this is the Happy Burger—there's one in the back. It's gonna come out. It's gonna try to trick you. I know this.

God, it's so dark. Why don’t you have a flashlight? [Sigh.] I won’t get that until so much later and I’m gonna have to fight a leg monster for it. 

[Again using my “come get me in a more advantageous space” strategy, I wait beyond a doorway:]

All right, go slowly. {I know you're in there. I know you're in there. Come on, come on. Oh, don't—don't you hit him. Don't you hit him!} And where's the other— {No, get down. Stay down.} Where’s the other one [that was playing dead]? It's getting up, yeah, that's right. {Come get me. Come in here. I'm defending the cash register. Come get me.}

It's not gonna come get me. 

{No, you come to me. You come to me. Come here, how bad do you want it? Get in here. Come get me. I hear your shoes. Come get me. You're trying to get me [to go] in the back.} It's just lurchin’ around. {You're trying to get me in a smaller space... so that you can vomit on me. But I'm not having that. Come get me. Come get me. No? Come get me. Coooome get me.} [Abruptly changing tactics:] All right, from behind, never saw it coming—!

[Apparently James and I put this one down pretty quickly:] {Don't you crawl away from me. Don't you slither! I'm not here for that. You stay down this time.} I know their wily ways. I know. I know a lot of things... that better gamers who go in cold, don't know...

Oh, oh, he's not... oh... (I can't watch you stagger around like that. When did you get hit? When did you even get hurt? I don't even remember you getting hurt.) [Sigh.] [After administering a health drink:] All right, magical healing jacket is clean again, so now... we're gonna go into a traversal. We're gonna... crawl under something... like an idiot, because that's how we roll.

[stephensmithuk]

The Valley of Fear: Darkness

Here are some examples of tweed suits:

These suits were commonplace at the time as outerwear as they coped well with the British climate; remember this is January and it can be quite cold even though snow is pretty uncommon these days in Southern England.

Police tape did not come around until the 1960s. Until then, crime scene security involved police officers standing guard, a rather hard task in the countryside.

A mare is a female horse.

The Pennsylvania Small Arm Company is fictitious. T

he main firearms company out of the Keystone State today is the Kahr Firearms Group, who moved there from New York in 2014 when the latter state tightened up its firearms laws. It having bought up the Auto-Ordnance Company and Magnum Research, it is the company that sells the Desert Eagle for those who want oversized handguns and also semi-automatic versions of the Thompsons submachine gun, including the 50-round magazines. Individuals cannot purchase weapons from them directly though; you have to go through an authorised firearms dealer. They do not do shotguns, sawed-off or otherwise.

Aberdonian refers to Aberdeen, one of Scotland's eight cities. It is known as the Granite City due to the use of it there during the Victorian era and is the hometown of Annie Lennox.

A rampant lion or lion rampant is a heraldic lion standing upright with its paws raised:

They are common on coats of arms. As the symbol of the Kingdom of Scotland, they feature more than once on both the UK and Scottish royal coat of arms, including one wearing the Tudor and Scottish Crowns respectively:

It is possible to drown in an inch of water, but that generally requires losing consciousness first.

Anyway, blotting paper was widely used at the time:

Some information on splay foot can be found here:

There have been voluntary bike registration schemes set up in various countries to assist in theft recovery:

There is no requirement to pay road tax on pedal bikes - unlike motorbikes. However, taking them on holiday to France could lead to issues with Customs; it still can in some cases since Brexit.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

War Letters, chapter 3

I changed the date of the first letter in chapter 1, the timelime was not correct and also updated the date in the description, I noticed that I put 1890 instead of 1899

It was a freezing day, and the snow kept falling. The holidays were over, and the house was back to its normal routine again. Cora put her needlework down when she noticed that Carson was walking towards her. She was sitting in front of the fireplace in the library, beside her bedroom, one of the better-heated rooms in the house.

"Is there something you need, Carson?" Cora asked while she smiled friendly at him. Last night, her father-in-law had gone to bed early. He was not feeling well, something Cora noticed during Christmas already. He was not himself, and she worried about him. Normally, Robert was here to help with the running of the estate, but now Patrick had to do everything on his own. Carson was worried about him to; she heard him talking with Mrs. Hughes.

"There is a letter, Milady."

"Thank you, Carson." She picked up the letter knife and opened the envelope. She waited for him to leave the room again. The girls had just gone back to the nursery, and Violet was in the village. There was nobody who would disturb her here, so she decided to read the letter immediately. Her heart started pounding as soon as she recognised Robert’s handwriting. It had been such a long time since she received a letter from him. The last one was from before Christmas.

As she had predicted, the girls adored their new dollhouse. Mary had made it look like she was too old for it, but Cora saw her play with it later that day. Christmas Day was the only day the girls were allowed downstairs for longer than one hour. It was the only thing that kept Cora from breaking down; she had missed Robert’s presence even more during the holidays, but having the giggles of her girls around her kept her going.

'My beloved Cora,  2 January 1900

Blessed New Year and a belated happy Christmas.

Your letter arrived just before Christmas. It amazes me how long it takes for my letters to arrive, but your letters seem to be here pretty quickly. I cannot complain about that last part. It means that your words did not leave your pen that long ago, when I read them. I could still smell your perfume. I hope Christmas was a happy time for you and the girls. To be honest, we did not notice much of that period. They talked about seize fire, but it never happened. The bullets fly around our heads constantly. Father Christmas did bring me something, though. They assigned me a new orderly, John Bates. He is a good man and does take his job very seriously. The previous boy was such a young boy, when you ask me, he was too young to be at war. I hope that chap does survive and gets sent home soon. He should be with his mother and not fighting in this bloody war. Excuse me, my dear, for my use of these words.

I am looking forward to having a normal meal again. I cannot remember the last time I had a decent piece of meat or vegetable. All we are getting are dried beef, hard biscuits, and tea. But to be honest it is a disgrace to call this tea. It is water with some flavour. Luckily, we have sugar to make it somewhat decent. On Christmas eve we got some fresh meat, but it was such a small amount that I decided to give all to the soldiers. They need it more than I do.

How are you doing my dear? You told me about the girls and that Mama is expecting too much of you. But besides that, I want to hear how you are doing. I keep imagining holding you in my arms at night. Touching your soft skin and brushing through your hair with my fingers. Writing about these feelings feel out of order and I should not be doing that. This war does strange things with your mind, and you are the one thing that is keeping me sane.

We are still at Ladysmith; in my last letter I mentioned moving towards Colenso. At the moment it does look like we are pinned down and will not be able to move anywhere, without losing to many of our men. The battle that took place at Colenso was a big failure and I am relieved we were still here at Ladysmith.

It is getting dark, and I need to be frugal with the candles we have. Sending you all my love,

Your Robert.'

Cora felt a tear on her cheek. Robert did sound so lost, and she wished the war would end, so all those men who survived could go back home. She could not imagine how it must be to be on the battlefield. She took a deep breath and put the letter back in its envelope. Tonight, she would put it with the other letter in the little box that she kept on her nightstand. For now, it would be stowed away in a pocket of her dress.

Looking at the clock, she realised that she needed to go up and change. She was invited to an exhibition that would raise money for the poor. Violet had ordered Cora to go and show her face. She knew that it meant that Violet did not think highly of the people organising this exhibition. But she did not care about that; the people were doing something for people in need, and she should show up and help raise more money. In these last years, she learned that once she showed interest in a piece of artwork, people wanted to buy that specific piece. She only had to bid once or twice to get it to a higher price. This exhibition was an artwork made by the children from the school. She was not sure how much money it would raise, since there were no real artists among them.

Once upstairs, she rang for O'Brien. This morning, she instructed her to prepare her dark blue dress with beige cape, the cape was decorated with a flowery pattern stitched on with a dark blue thread. It would be nice and warm, not too chic, but enough to show her status. She liked this dress since the sleeves were not puffy, but it did not go well with the cape. The recent change in dresses was not at all to her liking. She did not mind getting rid of the bustle and the long trains, unfortunately, they brought the puffiness up to their arms. In some dresses, it felt like she could not fit through a door with how big her shoulders felt with all the fabric in her sleeves.

"How would you like your hair, Milady?" O'Brien asked once she had helped her with her dress. Cora had to breathe shallowly because of how tight the corset needed to be for the hourglass figure this dress required.

"A chignon with some curls loose at the front will do. I want to wear the small hat with the white bow and pink flowers." Cora knew that hats with a big brim were worn by the ladies these days, but she had seen in an article about the French ladies that they were wearing smaller hats right on top of their heads. She liked the idea of those smaller hats; they were a lot easier to carry and move around with.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

These are the BSD ocs I drew a while back in these posts here, here, and here. I'm finally going to introduce them - they are both named for famous haiku poets (two of the 4 Ts!).

Takajo Mitsuhashi

Ability: Fern Hell/Shida Jigoku - A passive ability with an active component. Passively, she has a connection to what may or may not be a kind of life force - she can sense the presence of every individual, making her near impossible to sneak up on. Throttling the connection between person and life force either denotes a strange effect on their ability, or can shut down their life functions and kill them.

Age: 17

Birth Date: January 24th

Height: 162 cm

Weight: 116 lb

Blood Type: AB

Likes: Abstract art, meditation, cicadas

Dislikes: Restrictions, too much noise

Additional notes: Unused to feeling strong emotions, but is far from expressionless in intonation - she tends to be polite yet laid back and mildly cocky, especially when poking holes at authority/She was formerly an assassin/She also has the capacity to barely feel any pain and keep moving, even from deep injuries. This is not an ability. It's implied she trained to be able to do this./Becomes fascinated by Yosano and regularly observes her and her choices/Cannot understand why Takako doesn't think she's cool and then feels frustrated that this upsets her.

Takako Hashimoto

Ability: The Red Thread/Beniito - Allows the creation of a thin red thread, which, when connected with an object or person, acts as a rope to allow her to pull objects closer or drag them. Connections to people sometimes involve her gaining flashes of their emotional state and core desires.

Age: 16

Birth Date: January 15th

Height: 166 cm

Weight: 130 lb

Blood Type: B

Likes: Snow, yubari melon, dancing

Dislikes: Loneliness, feeling left behind

Additional notes: Born to comfortable wealth but has since given that up for unknown reasons/Sociable and empathetic but rarely talks about herself/Has an unfortunate tendency to throw herself into danger without thinking it through, much to Takajo's frustration/Tends to fangirl over people she thinks are cool, like Agent Hisajo/Thinks Takajo is one of the coolest people she's met but pretends she doesn't think so out of embarrassment of admitting that. This leads to childish spats.

They are part of a story involving Takajo attempting to find a powerful ability user-made artifact. Takako is the only one who can locate it, and therefore, they strike a deal to work together. They conflict with an offshoot of the Special Division, which essentially blackmails the girls into helping them find it and store it securely - but both girls are in agreement that the artifact needs to be destroyed (the one thing they do reliably agree on).

Though at first they are only working together out of a shared goal, they eventually come to care about one another deeply.

...ok. Running off now byeee

[ofxlilac]

NAME: Rayne Kaye

AGE: 30

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Demiwoman , She/they

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual, biromantic

STATUS: Visitor

CLASS: Virtue

HIERARCHY: Queen

ADDITIONAL: ----

OCCUPATION: Mercy Hospital - Surgeon

HOUSING: St. Mary's Palace

FACE CLAIM: Camila Mendes

GOOD: quick witted, humble, strategic

BAD: stubborn, overprotective, perfectionist

UGLY: redacted.

AGE: 30 BIRTHDATE: January 18 SIGN: Capricorn

PHYSICAL

HAIR: black brown, can appear lighter in some instances EYES: Dark brown HEIGHT: 5’2″ MARKINGS: has a tattoo on the inside of her wrist, and her back.

FAMILY

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single   SIBLINGS: Kayla Kaye , Angelie Kaye (adoptive sister), Doctor Kaye (adoptive mom) PARENTS: unknown.

SKILLS

PHYSICAL PROWESS: She’s slim, athletic, very lean, she can probably outwalk you considering how fast she tends to walk around the hospital. ABILITIES: really good memory, can recall information from any book they have read. Great at attention to detail, but however, their attention span can be all over the place. Don't ask them what she did yesterday when she's trying to even get through today. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Portuguese, spanish HOBBIES: she has his habit of visiting the gardens, looking at architecture and landscape. likes to make paper cranes, definitely the kind of person to give you candy as a treat. Really loves reading and research. Loves to eat, so going to get food is the way to her soul tbh.

PREFERENCES

COLORS: dark purple, black, navy blue with occasional pastel colors. SMELLS: the smell of new books, coffee in the morning, food that is grilled and she loves scented candles, anything scented really. DRINKS: White wine, long island tea, margaritas FOOD: comfort foods, soup, noodles, chili, food makes her happy.

OTHER

FUN FACTS:  did I mention clumsy? this girl can save your life, make critical medical decisions. But she cannot see shit in front of her sometimes. She's smol, and patients don't believe her when she says she's their surgeon. She's heard all them short jokes, but she's a spicy gal. she takes her work seriously.

CHARACTERS:

MOVIE CHARACTER: Hermonie Granger (Harry potter), Mulan (disney), captain Marvel (marvel) TV SHOW CHARACTER: elena gilbert (TVD) TRIGGERS : none PLAYLIST past life - ariana grande Phased me just like the moon (ah, ooh) I used to think you were the medicine, but you were just code blue And you're thinking it too, and I already knew I just didn't want to waste more time snow on the beach - Taylor swift ft lana del rey My smile is like I won a contest And to hide that would be so dishonest And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it 'Til you do, 'til it's true Cosmic love - Florence and the machine I tried to find the sound But then it stopped And I was in the darkness So darkness I became

BIO - TW mentions of adoption.

Rayne was born in Vancouver, Washington, a place where the sun rarely made an appearance, and cloudy days kept people indoors. Given up for adoption, she was first placed in the custody of her mother’s sister. However, the resemblance to her mother was too much for her aunt to bear, and Rayne was eventually placed in the foster system. By the age of twelve, she had made a promise to herself—to be self-reliant, never depending on others for her happiness. She had little hope of being adopted, accepting that her life would be one of constant change. A family had arrived, ready to take her to a new home. But trust didn’t come easily to Rayne. Faced with the prospect of yet another unfamiliar place, she panicked—and ran.

Rayne had no idea where they was headed, only that they were running. One moment, they were sliding down a muddy path—then suddenly, they tumbled through what felt like an open portal. They landed in the grass, covered in dirt, but when they looked up, they was no longer where they started. Instead, they found themself at an unfamiliar entranceway. Somehow, they had scraped their leg in the process. Following the signs, they made their way to the nearest hospital, which turned out to be in Virtue. That was where they met Doctor Kaye, who was impressed by Rayne’s quick thinking and ability to navigate a strange place on their own. When asked where they came from, Rayne simply admitted that they had lost their way—and that they didn’t want to go back to Washington.

Taking a chance on her, Doctor Kaye welcomed Rayne into her home. The family’s motto, Do good unto others, became something Rayne truly embraced. She was soon introduced to her new sisters, Kaye and Angelie, and for the first time, she felt like she belonged. Rayne threw herself into her studies, determined to succeed. Books became her world, and she set ambitious goals, always striving to be at the top of her class. Inspired by her adoptive mother, she dreamed of following in her footsteps, dedicating herself to becoming a doctor.

At 21, Rayne graduated college with honors, quickly becoming one of the most promising names in the next generation of surgeons. they chose Virtue for her residency, dedicating herself to Mercy Hospital, where they spent the next nine years refining their skills and pushing themself to the top of their field. While their education and training were grueling, it was their family that got them through it—especially their sisters, whose unwavering support meant everything to them. If you asked their sisters to describe Rayne, they’d probably say she was a little too serious, but always the first to defend them no matter what.

When she’s not at the hospital, Rayne is deep in Virtue’s medical research, always the first to analyze new data and study emerging treatments. She takes a keen interest in experimental tonics and cutting-edge advancements. Despite her brilliance, she has her quirks—she can be clumsy, often forgets what she did the day before (a side effect of her packed schedule and nonstop surgeries), but she is an exceptional surgeon who genuinely cares for her patients. For Rayne, family comes first, and no matter how demanding her career gets, she never loses sight of what truly matters.

[rathayibacter]

ratings of friday the 13ths

Friday, October 13th: 13/10 perfection. no notes. not only is it the spooky day in the spooky month, its mirrored with Halloween's October 31st.

Friday, November 13th: 9/10 pretty great! its two weeks post-Halloween and then this guy shows up and it's like a little spooky booster shot to help you through.

Friday, December 13th: 6/10 alright, the long nights are pretty creepy so that's cool, but Christmas' bright lights and candy canes hold fast against the dark, and nobody finds Krampus scary anymore.

Friday, January 13th: 8/10 now we're talking! all the Christmas trees are rotting in the streets and there's nothing left to do but shiver in your home and hope nothing's waiting for you in the snow.

Friday, February 13th: 10/10 perfect time to ask your sleep paralysis demon to be your Valentine

Friday, March 13th: 7/10 pretty good, unremarkable but not unwelcome. nice change of pace from all the not much you're probably doing in March.

Friday, April 13th: hom

Friday, May 13th: 3/10 despite my best efforts i cannot find anything remotely scary about the month of May. May's a delightful little month and that really works against it here.

Friday, June 13th: 8/10 the possibilities of summer lay before you, and here comes a lovely visitor from autumn to see you off. watch horror movies in your friend's basement and fall asleep on the couch.

Friday, July 13th: 8/10 creeps up on you, especially if you're a kid with no concept of time over the summer. one day it's BBQ cookouts and going to the pool, the next there's Creatures

Friday, August 13th: 10/10 the trees buzz, the sky is golden, summer finally gives up its hottest days. during the day you'll laugh it off, but when night comes at last it'll slip through your open window and crawl into your dreams. fall is coming, and winter after, and when the sun turns its back on you and the winds grow cruel, there'll be nothing left to protect you.

Friday, September 13th: 2/10 you really couldnt have held out a little longer? come on. get serious man

[astramthetaprime]

Impolite Topics of Conversation

It’s Sunday morning the 5th of January 2025 as I write this, and here at my computer in East Tennessee I’m looking out at the depthless Ganzfeld effect of a completely overcast sky. The trees are entirely bare of leaves now and I swear most of them are a six inch thick mat across my entire yard. We’re expecting just snow flurries at most here, followed by rain. A huge swath of the rest of the country is already getting dumped on with snow and ice, a lot of it. But true to form this little pocket of the Appalachians is once again missing the main event.

I’m not complaining, mind you. Everytime I catch myself starting to complain I remind myself of the Blizzard of ‘93 and I shut the hell up. I am perfectly happy going through this in my warm and comfy house rather than sleeping four nights on a cold concrete floor at a Red Cross shelter after trekking on foot past several downed trees and through fifteen inches of snow to go check on an elderly friend. I AM PEFECTLY HAPPY HERE.

I spent those four days playing solitaire with my Tarot deck. I may have damned well doomed Western civilization with the magical implications of that blizzard. Let’s not go there again, shall we?

Speaking of …

I haven’t spoken much regarding my religious underpinnings. I like to avoid loaded topics such as politics and religion. I sort of gathered growing up that speaking of such things in mixed company was impolite at best and inadvisable in the extreme at worst. I cannot recall ever hearing my mother say anything at all about politics – not who she voted for or why, not about current or historical events, nothing. Religion was different, in her later years we spoke quite a bit since she was very involved in her church, the same church I grew up in. She taught adult Sunday school, owned at least a dozen different versions of the Bible, and really seriously got into doing research in that area. By then I was firmly Buddhist and she might bring up a topic she’d been studying and I might have something related I knew from the Buddha or a verse from the Dhammapada, so that was nice. But we were always both very careful not to offend.

I’ve been several different religions in the course of my life, seeking for my truths. But finally I found the Buddha and put my stakes in the ground in his camp, so to speak. It’s the only religion I’ve ever found that was centered on actual human experience, actual human suffering. It doesn’t make promises that rely on pie-in-the-sky magical thinking that has no concrete way to prove. The Buddha does not ask people to believe in an afterlife – the reincarnation angle is actually optional. Sure, believe it if you want, it’s another set of reasons and dimensions in the Dharma. But it’s not necessary. Believe in the here and now, and prove to yourself in your own life that there is a way out of suffering. Follow the Eightfold Path because it’s a good way to live a human life, a good way to question yourself, and a good way to help others.

We are what we think, all that we are arises from our own thoughts, with our thoughts we make the world …

As I said, I took a bit of a road to get there, though. Part of that road, I was Pagan.

And I went full nine yards on it, as you do in your 20’s. Pentacle jewelry, a Thor’s hammer pendent, a hematite pet rock, candles, knives, incense, dozens of books, attempting to whack a friend’s enemy by casting spells naked at midnight. Honestly it’s a wonder someone didn’t convince me to try graverobbing.

But after five years or so, I started to question.

Why did nothing work? Nothing in my life was being solved, I cast spell after spell asking for answers from the Allfather, I appealed to Lady Freya herself for healing and help. Everything I found was no older than the early 1970’s. There was no fellowship, no friends in the faith. There was nothing behind it all. In the end, the gods were nothing but names and a lot of wasted money and time. I was back where I started, with nothing.

I don’t remember now when I first encountered the actual teachings of the Buddha. It sort of seeped into my life, trickling in like the slow drip of rain from a blade of grass. Here was a religion based on entirely different premises from every other religion I’d ever known. It was the story of a man who started out at the top of his society, hounded by questions into giving up his life of privilege to seek real answers. When he got those answers, the gods themselves begged him to teach the world.

The answers he found are relevant today as they were in his time. Humans haven’t changed since his day two and a half millenia ago. We’re still dumb as boxes of rocks when it comes to knowing ourselves. Human suffering originates in human thoughts. Our perceptions, our motivations, our actions are all engendered by our thoughts. So, change your thoughts and you change your world. Stay vigilant of your thoughts to make those changes real and permanent. Help others in real ways, because we’re all alone in this world and we all need help one way or another.

The Way is real, it’s tangible, it makes tangible changes for the better in measurable ways, person to person, day to day.

The little book that was my first Buddhist text is with me still. Tattered from living in my messenger bag for all these years, but with me still along with the little copy of the Dhammapada that goes with it. I’ve read and listened to and watched a myriad of teachings since then, and at the moment I’d say I’m more drawn to the Tibetan side of things that the Zen I started with. I used to sit meditation with a group here in town, but Covid ended that. It was the only group in town – it’s the South, and weird Asian religions get a lot of suspicion here. But you don’t need a group of people to watch your own thoughts.

I can sit here at my computer, looking out at a gray sky slashed with bare trees.

I can watch my worries and anticipation of the results of my ADHD assessment – tomorrow afternoon I’ll know if I’ve been upgraded to AuDHD.

I can hold my own mental hand through thoughts of my parents and how I wish they were here.

I can be, just be, with myself and the world.

But if you’re wondering, I do still have that pet rock.

[foxes-that-run]

When did Harry get the Things I Can & Things I Can't tattoos covered up? And why did he even get that tattooed in the first place? I know it's a reference to Taylor's 2010 my space bio, but was this one of the attempts to wow Taylor? 🤣

We don't know what any of his tattoos mean to him, 'things I can'/ 'things I can't' are in the Serenity Prayer, (which AA uses):

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference."

Taylor said it (in 2010 and) 6 June 2012 to New Orleans Magazine:

“These days, I’ve been trying to classify my thoughts into two categories: “Things I can change” and “Things I can’t.” It seems to help me sort through what to really stress about. But there I go again, over-planning and over-organizing my over-thinking!

12 October 2012 - Harry got both 'Things I can change' and 'Things I can't change' Tattoos in Dublin. This is just after he and Taylor started dating, they aren't the first tattoo since though (the heart and Love banner were). He said he had gotten them that day but didn't show it on the Late Late Show in Ireland, the same show they are asked about dinner with Taylor Swift (11 mins):

19 January 2014 - he covered 'things I can't' with the bible. It was a few days after he covered "I can't change" with an anchor. I think of these as looking for the core of the lesson of those statements, perhaps the bible over 'serenity to cover the things I can't change' is about faith over a fixed mindset the first two had. At the time he broke up with Kendall and soon after was in the studio with Taylor for the end of 1989 recording.

30 December 2015 - he covered 'things I can' with the Eagle (the day he left One Direction, he also registered all those songs from the Snow Patrol writing sessions. To me delaying this change until he left the band feels like he wanted to change that and marked it with the Eagle for liberation.

MySpace Taylor did say it on MySpace on 24 November 2010. However I think she probably later repeated it and they might have talked about it, it's a common idea though. (internet archive)

[sollyinpurplepants]

Raritan preview

I have had this story on the back burner, so it is time to write! I also want to try and write the canon au again, so I am setting this tale post Bigg Freeze!

It was the height of the Bigg Freeze, and it was difficult for everyone. The chilly weather limited the amount of work the Star Tugs and Z Stacks could do, so any work that could be found was extremely lucrative. Hercules was away on a contract for a construction company in the Florida Keys, and this put tremendous pressure on the remaining Star Tugs. Without their lead tug, they were struggling to compete with the Z Stacks for contracts. Captain Star noticed this, but there was little he could do.

A frigid January morning seemed to have changed Star and Marine's fortunes. Captain Star trudged through the snow and spied a few ships sailing into the Lower Bay, and smiled against his scarf. It was an odd request, but he hoped it would give some of the tugs a chance to move their rudders about. He stepped into a shed that served as his makeup office before opening the window. His tugs were starting to stir; it was six o'clock after all.

"Good morning Star Tugs!" Captain Star greeted, sounding unusually positive.

"Morning Captain." Ten Cents replied, wincing from the cold as he started his fire.

"Someone sounds brighter than usual." Top Hat grumbled, shaking some icicles that had built up along the brim of his hat. "Hopefully it'll be something good. This cold is going to make my monocle crack!"

"Lighten up Top Hat, I think we all need good news every now and then!" Sunshine remarked, getting a chuckle from Warrior.

Captain Star let out a snort and said with a bellow, "Alright, that's enough! I do have some good news, though I did have some concerns at first." He opened up his letter and read, "It's a contract from the Army. Commander Lloyd knows the general in charge of a construction project in the Lower Bay, and the general is offering a delivery contract."

Warrior gasped. "When did we start working for the Army?" He asked himself.

"An Army contract?" Big Mac was intrigued. "The Navy is one thing, but hoo boy. I swear the Army is a different beast altogether!"

Captain Star put a hand on his forehead. It seemed the cold weather had made his tugs snappier than usual. He shouted, "Hey now! The general also offered the contract to the Z Stacks, so we need to work as a team in order to get paid! Top Hat, Warrior, I need you to go to the depot and get the supplies."

Top Hat was startled. "Me? With Warrior!? The last thing I want is our delivery being sunk!" He spat.

Warrior snorted and steamed up to Top Hat. "Don't worry Top Hat, I think I know where we're going." He grinned, giving the railway tug a nudge. "What part of the Lower Bay is it, Sir?"

"Edison, a small town on the banks of the Raritan River." Captain Star answered. "The freeze affected rail traffic, but their river traffic is thankfully not as affected. I think."

"I think all my confidence has left." Top Hat grumbled, giving a glare to Warrior. "Come along, we cannot disappoint the general."

Elsewhere in the estuary, Zebedee and Zak were already at work. After Zorran and Zug's misadventure Up River, Captain Zero did not want any repeats. He reckoned that his number two and his number three were competent enough for Army work. Zebedee seemed distant, but Zak was confident.

"Cheer up Zeb, at least we don't have to deal with Zorran and Zero." Zak snorted, shaking some snow off of his wheelhouse. "Now get your engine runnin'! I overheard Star tellin' Top Hat and Warrior to go down to Edison as well."

"Lemme guess, ya wanna get a head start?" Zebedee asked. He knew fully well that Warrior was a clumsy tug, which would make the delivery complicated. "Welp, I better hope they know that river as much as I do. Now come on!"

The journey to the Lower Bay was surprisingly smooth, with Top Hat noticing that the the landscape was changing. Buildings quickly gave way to trees and rocks, a sure sign they were in the Lower end of New York. He spied a suspension bridge and asked, "Is this the way to Edison?"

"Yeah, it is!" A tramp steamer called, catching the two Star Tugs by surprise. The name "Mako" was painted on his dark blue hull, and icicles built up on his black knitted cap. "You guys lost? You definitely look like you aren't from here. If you want, I can show ya where to go!" 

Top Hat was unnerved by Mako's offer, but Warrior remained pleasant. "I think we know where to go Mako! Thank you, though!" He answered, leaving the tramp steamer behind. "Come on Top Hat."

A quarter mile behind, Zebedee and Zak spotted the tramper. "Blast! I was hoping that tramper would hold those idiots up!" Zak snapped.

"There has to be a reason for it." Zebedee grumbled. He noticed the tramper's hull and his skin started to break in sweat. "Somethin' about him doesn't feel right, but I don't know why."