#National Scrapbooking Day

[mascrapping]

National Scrapbooking Day - First Saturday in May

National Scrapbooking Day is an annual event that celebrates the art and craft of scrapbooking. It is typically held on the first Saturday in May and is a day when scrapbookers all over the world come together to share their love for this creative hobby. Scrapbooking is a popular pastime that involves creating albums filled with photos, memorabilia, and decorative elements such as stickers,…

[murderousink23]

05/04/2024 is Free Comic Book Day 🌎, National Star Wars Day 🌎, International Firefighters Day 👩‍🚒👨‍🚒🚒🌎, World Naked Gardening Day 🌎, National Remembrance Day 🇳🇱, Join Hands Day 🇺🇸, Bird Day 🐦🇺🇸, National Candied Orange Peel Day 🇺🇸, National Orange Juice Day 🇺🇸, National Renewal Day 🇺🇸, National Weather Observers Day 🇺🇸, National Auctioneers Day 🇺🇸, National Homebrew Day 🇺🇸, National Scrapbook Day 🇺🇸

[simpxxstan]

best friend's older brother mingyu

this is part of my 550 followers celebration event! find the rest of the members' headcanons in the event too as i post them through this month!

warnings: SMUT 18+ NSFW, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT making out, dry humping, untouched orgasm, mingyu is a slight perv

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who you haven't seen in seven years

ever since he'd been selected into the under-19 basketball team, and then the national basketball team for south korea, you'd only ever see him on the tv screen in his games and interviews. he hasn't come back home in ages and has probably forgotten all about you.

that does not, however, mean that you have forgotten about him. you've watched all of his matches, kept track of his records, and following him like his #1 fan. you are his #1 fan, you think. you keep a scrapbook with all of his achievements and photographs and every little symbol of him. you're perfectly content with loving him in secret, in the depths of your heart. the ideal man, the hypothetically perfect match, the epitome of perfection.

his sister does not know about your not so little crush. she's aware that you liked him once or twice in school days. but she's dismissed it because you haven't seen him in ages, how can one have a crush on someone they haven't met in years?

oh but you can. it's a wild pining, that blooms into warmth every once in a while, when you open your scrapbook each night, when you watch him play on the tv. and as each day passes, instead of your desire for him decreasing, it seems to be rapidly rising.

for, if fifteen year old mingyu had been taller than his entire class and a certified visual, twenty-two year old mingyu is an absolute god. it's positively worse for you because unlike others, who treat mingyu as a celebrity crush, you know him. you remember what his touch feels like, you remember what his scent is like, you remember what his gaze feels like. you remember how nervous he made you every time he talked to you. you remember how broad his back had been even as an adolescent. you remember how raspy his morning voice would be freshly after he had hit puberty. you remember how kind he used to be to you, because you were sister's best friend. so, unlike the others, your fantasies are based on real things and not just intangible imagination.

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who retires from his basketball career after winning the gold medal at the olympics

he returns to his hometown, a cherished celebrity, because he wants to go back to his normal life. he's seen how some of his most respected seniors got dismissed as soon as they could be replaced by young talent, and mingyu wants to retire while he's still remembered as the golden star of korea. so he retires at the helm of his career, a hero.

and while he will miss the team, he won't be missing the pressure that came along with it. he'd rather become an engineer like he'd always wanted to and live a steady life ahead.

but when he returns, he sees you. after seven years. standing next to his sister at his home, where there are a ton of unfamiliar faces, all here to get selfies with the celebrity.

"who's that?" his sister barks out a laugh, "you don't recognise y/n? you idiot!" y/n? fuck him for not realising you've grown up too. fuck him for not remembering how pretty your eyes had been underneath the thick glasses you'd worn since childhood.

"how could i? i saw you last when i was, fifteen?" "yeah. and i was twelve." "nice to see you're still my sister's best friend." "nice to see you back home. congrats on the win, though." mingyu smiles. you smile too. fuck. you have dimples. where did the nerdy little girl with braids and freckles go?

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who joins your college, majoring in aerospace engineering, which is coincidentally also your major

he sits next to you. it's your first day in class and mingyu's joining three years late but no one really minds. everyone is too busy fawning over him. look at his arms. look at his smile. look at his long hair.

"why are you sitting here? there's plenty of place for you to sit." "i'd rather sit next to a familiar face. why, do you want me gone?" "no but you're distracting." he leans in closer, leaving nearly no space between your seats. "distracting?" "yes. if you haven't noticed, there are like a dozen cameras pointed at you right now, and a dozen more eyes. not to mention that everyone wants to sit next to you, so you choosing to sit next to me ruins my chances of making friends with others." your glare is stern, and mingyu can't help the way his heart races when you look at him like that from above your glasses.

"i'm shier than you think. i'm here to escape the attention too." you sigh, "i don't remember you to be like this." i don't either, mingyu wants to say. from your height difference, he can see a bit of your cleavage and he almost drools. "people change, y/n-ah." you turn your face away as the professor comes in. "well, please focus in class then. otherwise i won't really like you sitting next to me, no matter what your excuse is."

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who begins to rely on you totally in college

from sitting next to you in class, to sitting next to you and his sister during lunch, he's become a permanent feature in your periphery nowadays. and you're not sure you can take it any longer. because fuck your memory had served you wrong.

mingyu still smells like that, his voice is still like that, but he's grown at least three sizes bigger, and he just doesn't fit in the small class seats. his arm is nearly always on your desk, especially because he is left-handed. you always sit on one end of your seat to ensure mingyu and your legs aren't constantly touching. and it doesn't help that he laughs at even your smallest jokes because he always, always ends up slapping your thighs or arms during his laughter. frankly, every day in class is torture.

it doesn't help that mingyu now hangs out a lot more with you and his sister. so if you're doing homework in the library, mingyu tags along. if you're gossiping in her bedroom, somehow mingyu's also there, although he's engrossed on his phone. eventually, you stop becoming conscious of his presence, and stop censoring your conversations. it's not easy, but not impossible.

mingyu eventually invites himself over to your house for a study session before the exams. it's just the two of you, because your best friend is studying with her own group of classmates who have the same major as her. it's safe to say, it's a completely useless session for you because you get no studying done.

mingyu is literally in your personal space throughout the evening. he may be sitting opposite to you, but somehow his knees knock against yours under the table, his long hands stretch across the table to take the highlighter you're using from your hands, and he leans right into your face on the pretext of listening to what you're explaining. finally you can't take his attention on you any longer, and you take too many bathroom breaks to calm your racing heart.

thinking about best friend's older brother!mingyu who is a part of the varsity basketball team

he may be a freshman, but he's still the captain because his skills are undoubtedly the best among the lot. and while he has retired from the national team, he still loves the sport enough to be a part of the college team.

of course, he wins the inter-college basketball varsity cup, and the entire college is roaring and cheering for him. mingyu knows you're somewhere in the stadium- he'd spotted you right before his final match-winning shot, but now he can't see you at all.

using this as a means to escape the attention of cameras and other people, he runs through the corridors to find you sitting in a classroom, empty because everyone's at the stadium in the grounds to watch the match. "didn't you watch the match?" his voice makes you turn around, slightly jerking at the sudden voice. "of course i did. i knew you would win."

you look heavenly right now. not that you don't all the other times, but especially today because you're wearing the jersey he used to wear for the national team. he knows a hundred other girls were wearing it too in the stadium, but they were all copies. this is the original- he knows because his sister has told him that she's given it to you. and while it's loose on your body, there's crazy rush of arousal running through his veins right now as he sees his name written all over your back: number 9, mingyu.

"then why are you hiding here? i was taking out my sis for lunch afterwards. my treat. she'll be happy if you come along." i will be too, but he doesn't say it.

"no i- i have some revision to do. the viva's day after tomorrow, and i know i-" you stand up to face him, but your words fail you when he takes three steps closer towards you until his entire figure towers over you. "or are you just avoiding me?" he can see the effect he's having on you, the way your skin gets redder with blush and the way you keep averting his eyes. it makes the adrenaline rush quicker and his braveness increase. he's high from the victory and from playing his beloved sport after so long, so he's not averse to taking a few risks right now that he would not take any other day. so he leans in closer to you, until he can smell your perfume.

"why would i avoid you? and why are you here? shouldn't you be celebrating with your team?" "i wanted to see you." "don't lie to me for no reason, please." mingyu huffs, and pauses before replying. he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your delicious scent again, before he replies. "i'm not lying. why don't you believe me? is it so imposs-""not impossible. just, i don't know. irrational. doesn't make sense. look i know you may feel shy but i'd think you're used to this kind of attention. in fact, i always thought you rejoice in this attention."

you're right. you're so right, because any other day, and he knows he would be out there with his team, hollering and celebrating the win. but right now, he can't think of anyone but you. even on the field, from the moment he spotted you in the stands, he couldn't think of anything but how he wants to play for you. win for you. impress you. so that you have more reasons to like him. more notes to add in your-

"i saw your scrapbook." he sees the way your eyes dilate. "when?" "when i went to your house." "you fucking snoop-" "was that all a lie?" "min-" "i need to know, i need to know. i need to know because i can't think of anything else. i need to know because i don't want anything else from my life. i need to know."

"no!" you finally look up at him, cornered against the desk because he's caved you totally. "it's true. all of it. so what? will you laugh at me for it?" at that, mingyu's confidence falters for the first time. "laugh? why would i l- y/n, what are you saying?" "i know what you're doing. all this smooth talking, all your attention, you're just playing me along. and i won't be played along, mingyu."

"fuck, is that- is that what you've been thinking all along? fuck, no wonder you're avoiding me." he mutters under his breath, but he can see the confusion in your face too. "what do you mean, mingyu?" he doesn't want to answer, because he knows he will fuck up the words. so he just says, "stop me if you don't want this."

and he leans in and kisses you. it's a messy kiss from the first moment, because he's moving too fast and you're moving too slow in your shock. he pulls back after a second, his eyes glazed. "talk to me, y/n. tell me somethin-" "kiss me again, mingyu. kiss me like you mean it."

so he does. your tongues clashing and you moan when his hands wrap around your hips. spurred on by your sounds, he picks you up from the desk in one go. you squirm in his grip, wrapping your hands around his neck, clinging on to him as you float in air for a second. but you don't break the kiss. he holds on to you like dear life, as he turns around and sits on the desk himself, pulling you on to his lap. he carefully pulls away from the kiss for a breath and leans against the wall.

mingyu drags you closer to him, your legs folding around him and- "fuck, gyu- you- you're hard?" he hisses when you grind your body against him. "you're so hard from some kissing?" there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and for some reason, it's turning him on even more. but then his grip tightens on your hips as he pulls you to grind over him faster, while kissing you desperately.

your hands get lost in gyu's soft, long hair. mingyu's hands trail along your bare thighs under the skirt, and when he touches the hem of your panties, he feels from over your panties just how wet you've become, and he moans from the sticky feeling. "don't stop, gyu," you're whispering, and he doesn't. he sees you throw your head back, as you crave the friction and keep grinding against his crotch. the sweat from mingyu's body has trailed onto you, and he finds droplets of sweat running down your neck into your cleavage. he bucks his hips up into you at the sight, and you hold on to his shoulders to grind on him faster.

"can you come like this, baby? i can- i'm going to, if you keep moving your h-hips like-fuck!" and he does. kim mingyu, star of the generation, national basketball champion, icon of the college, comes right in his pants as you ride him and kiss him, chasing your own high. he doesn't stop you, although the humping is pushing him to overstimulation, but he keeps biting your lips and your neck the way you seem to like it, and soon you pull off his lips with a scream, your entire body trembles, and he can see the way your thighs quiver and then go still.

"that was so hot, baby." mingyu says after a minute of the two of you just looking at each other, coming down from your highs. "it was so risky- what were we thinking!" he laughs as he sees the shyness kick in after all this time, "don't go all innocent on me, love. now, do you want to take this home, or do you want me to keep kissing you here, my pants wet with my own cum like a teenager?"

and then, you giggle. the prettiest, fucking giggle ever in the world. for all your brisk attitude, you go soft over him at this moment and hug him, pulling him to your chest. but he's so wrong if he thinks you're talking soft, because he then hears you whispering in his ear, your breath hot against his earlobe, "i want to go home and ride you properly, gyu. will you let me?"

[deathofacupid]

a collection of how the jujutsu-kaisen men would spend your birthday with you!

forget subtle hints, with gojo, you accidentally mentioned you liked the packaging of a new line of balenciaga, and now you're swimming in a mountain of designer clothes so high you need a sherpa guide to find your way out. and that's just the pre-party. the main event? a full-blown, disney princess-level ball, complete with a custom-made ice sculpture of your face and a live performance by, like, a real boy band. he even hired a professional choreographer to teach you a waltz, which is slightly awkward since you mostly listen to rock. "surprise!" he'll beam, somehow managing to look even more dazzling than the chandeliers. you're pretty sure he chartered a private jet just to pick up your dress.

geto's all about the chill vibes. he's declared today "national pamper yourself day," which, coincidentally, also happens to be your birthday. he's booked a couples massage (extra aromatherapy, because why not?), curated a selection of the finest teas, and prepared a mountain of your favorite snacks. the afternoon is spent gossiping about everyone you know, including, but not limited to, rogue curses, gojo's latest antics, and the questionable fashion choices of some of the higher-ups. it's pure, unadulterated relaxation, the kind that leaves you feeling like a brand new, incredibly well-informed person.

nanami's birthday celebrations are the epitome of understated elegance. he's reserved a table at the most exclusive restaurant in town, the kind of place where the waiters wear white gloves and the menu doesn't list prices. he's a perfect gentleman, pulling out your chair, complimenting your dress, and engaging you in stimulating conversation (no small talk here). after dinner, he whisks you away to a secret rooftop garden overlooking the city, where you sip champagne under the stars. it's so romantic, you almost forget he's a jujutsu sorcerer who regularly battles terrifying curses. almost.

choso's gift-giving is a delightful mix of heartwarming and slightly terrifying. he's bypassed the whole "buying things" concept entirely, opting instead for a full-on crafting extravaganza. expect a scrapbook filled with pressed flowers, your favorite song lyrics painstakingly handwritten in blood (his, hopefully), and a collection of "ribbon flowers" that look suspiciously like miniature cursed spirits. he's also written you a heartfelt letter, which, upon closer inspection, turns out to be written on the back of a discarded grocery list. it's chaotic, it's weird, but it's undeniably him, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

toji's birthday plan is refreshingly low-key. he's stocked up on enough pizza and 90s action movies to last a week, and he's cleared the living room floor for maximum lounging potential. he might even crack a smile, which, for toji, is equivalent to throwing a parade. it's the perfect evening for you, because honestly, all that fancy stuff is exhausting. plus, you secretly enjoy watching him try to explain the plot of con air to you for the fifth time.

sukuna's approach to birthdays is… complicated. after a lengthy (and likely heated) discussion with uraume about the "human tradition" of birthdays, he reluctantly agrees to participate. he refuses all help, determined to handle this himself. the result is… interesting. he bakes a cake that's vaguely edible (and possibly glowing), crafts a banner that reads "happy… day," and spends the entire evening looking deeply uncomfortable. but then, when you thank him, he gives you a tiny, almost imperceptible nod, and you know that, deep down (really, really deep down), he actually cares. it's a terrifyingly sweet gesture, in its own twisted way.

[glitchlight]

Oh No! I got mad about something someone I dont know posted on the internet and I am brooding and angry about it! Instead of posting I will relax and reflect and do something more productive like:

Scuba diving

Yoga

National Park Travelers Club

Becoming A Nudist

Jigsaw puzzles

Wikipedia editing

Inventing A Time Machine

Woodworking

Masturbating

Succumbing To The Amulet

Genealogy

Masturbating

Dark Alchemy

Robot combat

Bungee jumping

Electronics repair

Beekeeping

Lego sets

Shuffleboard

Slacklining

Eating Lugnuts Off The Cars In the Walmart Parking Lot

Photography

Metalworking

Hacking

Golfing

Paintball

Transcending the Limitations of Flesh

Welding

Thrifting

Sleeping

Abolishing The Division of Night and Day

Pet fostering

Meteorology

Getting Gone

Bowling

Dumpster Diving

Book collecting

Amateur radio

Meditating On My Uncountable Failures

Weaving

Ice skating

Graphic design

Brewing

Masturbating

Car racing

Stealing

Camping

Teaching Crows How To Commit Tax Fraud

Getting Really Good At Beatboxing

Cooking

Getting My Stink Salted

Bird watching

Crocheting

Gymnastics

Screaming Into the Night Sky At God

Metal detecting

Masturbating

Driving Off A Bridge

Sleeping

Thinking about Masturbating

Revisiting Classics To See If They Hold Up

Origami

Drinking

Masturbating

Billiards

Chess

Sleeping

Geocaching

Bread making

Launching rockets

Calligraphy

Archery

Jewelry making

Smoking

Video games

Needlepoint

Water skiing

Animal breeding

Stealing

Podcasting

Fantasy sports

Learning Spanish

Wine tasting

Backpacking

Getting Way Too Into Sports

Alchemy

Karaoke

Stealing

Traveling

Turning Straight Women Gay

Taxidermy

Masturbating

Horseback riding

Fishing

Being a DJ

Quilting

Juggling

Record collecting

Baking

Glassblowing

Drones

Stealing Infant Teeth

Crossfit

Improvisation

Attuning Myself To Crystals For the Purposes of Psychic Attacks

Drinking

Playing a musical instrument

Stand-up comedy

Throwing Myself Into A Volcano

Skiing

Remote cars

Bonsai

Furniture restoration

Quitting While I'm Ahead

Drinking

Writing

Smoking

Meterology

Local historical society

Disappearing In A Mysterious Accident

Assassination

Painting

Handball

Masturbating

Cheese-making

Martial arts

Astronomy

App making

Table tennis

Web design

Letting All The Demons Out of Hell

Farming

Hiking

Home improvement projects

Swimming

Skydiving

Volunteering

Animal grooming

Forbidden Alchemy

Remote airplanes

Gardening

Burying A Bunch Of Eggs

Becoming The Worlds Preeminent White Maoist

Digging A Hole To The Center of the Earth

Trivia

Journaling

Video production

Masturbating

Drinking

Crossword puzzles

Vehicle restoration

Candle-making

Drinking

Reading

Art collecting

Drawing

Makeup

Smoking

Running

Dancing On the Graves of My Enemies

Sleeping

Kayaking

Poetry

Knitting

Sleeping

Designing clothing

Sailing

Acting

Rock climbing

Disc golfing

Scrapbooking

Winemaking

Wood burning

Running Away

Museum visiting

Pottery

Escape rooms

Soap making

LARPing

Freestyling

Flying

Smoking

Snowboarding

Board games

Just Eating A Bunch of Candy

Surfing

Masturbating

Mixology

Smoking

Card games

Kite surfing

Masturbating

Composting

Dancing

Creating The Perfect French Fry

Powerlifting

Model trains

The Rites And Rituals Forbidden To Me

Movie reviews

Frisbee Wizardry

[rei-ismyname]

Nightcrawler on Krakoa - The Spark is not a religion.

During Dawn of X Nightcrawler felt uncomfortable with certain aspects of Krakoa, especially the cavalier attitude towards death. On the day of the first Crucible, Cyclops sought him out to talk through his own feelings on the matter and they discussed it at length. Kurt had no answers, only questions, though he did end the conversation with something definitive. 'I think I need to start a mutant religion.' Contrary to what I've seen many people say, he didn't actually start a religion. This is an exploration of The Spark, Kurt's very secular answer to the personal and societal questions he had.

Melody Guthrie chose to die and be reborn

Since I'm looking to prove a negative - 'The Spark is not a religion' - it would be helpful to have a definition of the term. Scholars, philosophers and theologians have been trying to agree on one for centuries with the mainstream having given up. I'll come back to this, but Kurt's own religious framework is Catholicism. Plenty to work with there.

Florilegium translates as 'book of flowers,' but its usage is the equivalent of 'zine' or 'scrapbook'

Kurt accepted that his feelings of discomfort were in part rooted in his faith, so that's where he began his examination. As shown above, he 'set aside metaphysics' quite quickly - he gave up on 'starting a mutant religion' for many reasons, not least because 'it's not for me to contest matters of faith.' His feelings, that something was missing from Krakoa, remained. An obvious religious marker is the 'The Book of Spark' and the biblic stylisation. As we'll see, it's just Kurt's diary and not a holy text. I speculate that some of Catholic trappings Kurt used during his quest tripped some people up, in the same way the call and response ritual after The Five resurrects someone felt 'culty' to some. I think Hickman was being deliberately provocative, but at the end of the day it's an affirmation of identity before the community and celebration of rebirth - an ad hoc element of Krakoa's nascent culture.

After some soul searching and 'self-distraction,' Kurt was about to give up on the project altogether. There were bigger problems on Krakoa, such as 'The Patchwork Man' (who ended up being Onslaught) and the aforementioned cavalier attitude towards dying. Chuck asked Kurt to investigate because he's better with people, starting with David Haller - Legion - son of Charles Xavier and Gabrielle Haller. After rescuing him from ORCHIS the two formed a friendship based on, among other things, a mutual concern about the sustainability of Krakoan culture.

Importantly, Legion was not a disciple of his father and his didn't take his promises at face value. His loyalty was to Kurt and to mutants in general. An outsider and an agitator, but with only good intentions. He advised Kurt to begin by interrogating the 3 laws, and along the way they met Krakoans who were similarly concerned that they were a nation but not yet a people. Having rejected the whole 'starting a religion' thing, the mission shifted to finding or establishing 'something that makes folks feel like they're all in the same story' - as Stacy X put it. Obviously the presence of Onslaught was a factor in the unrest, but he was feeding off what was already there.

'Murder no man' and 'make more mutants' certainly gave Kurt food for thought, but interrogating them didn't help much with his primary mission. 'Respect this sacred land' did, specifically reinterpreting it to include the people on it. He acknowledged that all the laws were flawed, but this one in particular set him on the path to the Spark. It seems simple in retrospect, obviously Krakoa needs to protect its citizens, but the Quiet Council kinda missed that. It's especially egregious when you consider the scope of the project - all mutants living side by side, including those that have hurt a lot of people and would continue to. Problems like that just don't go away, and with some of those mutants on the Quiet Council (cough* Sinister) people are going to feel unsafe and isolated.

That first line is important - 'this is not a mutant religion'

Needless to say, Onslaught was defeated. Defeated by the lesser known mutants as a large group, creating a mutant circuit inside Legion's head. Legion had the space and Kurt had the idea but the people chose to fight and love and live. They didn't listen to Kurt because of religious or political authority, they listened because they liked the idea.

The Spark is a philosophy, a way of living. It encourages choice, risk, individuality, and seeking happiness as a community and as a people. There's no worship, no reverence of a higher power, 'no prayer or veneration.' Zero exploration of eschatology. It's compatible with existing faith because there's no overlap, except for the community aspect. It's definitely not a bloody religion.

There is one alternate future where The Spark is turned into a religion/faith - the Sins of Sinister timeline. Mother Righteous hijacked it as a tool to control uneducated enslaved clones and drew on their faith and sacrifice to perform deeply harmful magic. Considering SoS was an exercise in perversion and abomination, in corrupting good things into their twisted dark opposites, The Spark as religion/tool of evil should tell us that the real thing is nothing of the sort.

Kurt does love the aesthetic of religion, as you'd expect, which explains why the communal holodeck in Legion's head is called The Altar. Altar is not a strictly religious term, though, and the altar is nothing like a church. Lost and Cortez (of all people) are telling people about it because it helped them with their own pain, given without reservation. You could ungenerously view it as evangelism, but if you do that then you've broadened the term to the point of meaninglessness.

Kurt didn't start a mutant religion, The Spark isn't a religion. Pass it on :)

[steveguyhi1243]

Summer Triangle

A tidbit of a fic I'm working on. Been a long time since I've used this site. Maybe it'll help.

Summary:

A funeral. A reunion. A summer romance?

Oh, and another mystery. It wouldn’t be Gravity Falls without one.

It only took six years to get back. Everything’s just like the twins left it, right?

Surely there’s NOTHING wrong. Just don’t look the townspeople in the eye. Something’s been up with them lately.

Excerpt from Chapter 1:

McGucket was dead. 

Hands warm against the leather of the steering wheel, Dipper Pines stared at the road ahead, taking deep breaths through his nose as the first symptoms of road fatigue set in. His eyelids grew heavy while the yellow lines of the interstate rhythmically flew past his vision.

The rose-gold of the early morning sun had given way to the vibrant blue of midday. White Alders and Redwoods had faded to pine trees with each additional mile north. No longer burdened by urban ambience, skyscrapers turned into convenience stores, littering the afforested roads like breadcrumbs down a wooden trail. A small pine-shaped air freshener mounted to the dashboard gave the truck a minty feel, reminding Dipper of the serenity of an early-morning thunderstorm, fresh rainwater drenching the leaves. 

A pink-sweatered figure sat curled up in a ball in the passenger seat. Locks of curly brown hair hastily tamed by a black hair tie enveloped their face, soft breaths blowing the strands briefly out of place before gravity brought them back down. The neon cover of a scrapbook rested within Mabel’s hands, clutched tightly against her chest just as a child would a stuffed animal. 

The front cover of the scrapbook faced Dipper. In glittery gold, the words “SUMMER MEMORIES” were etched out in Mabel’s handwriting. Only one picture had been added, sitting just inside the front cover. Draped in blue caps and gowns, Dipper and Mabel stood with their arms around each other, diplomas in hand as they gave a thumbs up to the camera. Mom had taken the picture. Dipper remembered her grinning ear to ear as she pulled out her phone and fumbled with the buttons until finding the camera. Dad, meanwhile, stood just out of frame, awkwardly waiting for mom to release them so he could get his own pictures. The smell of his shoe shiner and the warmth of his maroon button-up persisted even as the photo failed to capture him. 

Dipper wrestled with the black cup holder to his right. Something tumbled to the ground whilst he freed his water bottle. It probably wasn’t anything important. He had been meaning to fix it, but had been too busy with the million other repairs to worry about it. A finicky cup holder was nothing when the transmission gave out. 

Cold water rushed down his throat and brought him temporary relief from his weariness. Sooner or later he would have to stop. Dipper caught sight of an exit advertising a gas station some three miles away. Turning on his blinker, Dipper quickly checked his right mirror and blind spot before quickly switching into the rightmost lane, narrowly making the exit as it crept up on him.

The sharp jolt of the truck as he turned disturbed Mabel from her slumber. She let out something between a grunt and a snore before jolting upright and pulling her hair out of her face. From the backseat, Waddles squealed, quickly crawling from the backseat to the passenger side.

“What was that about?” Mabel asked, voice deepened by her nap, “Is it national my-brother-can’t-make-right-turns-day already?”

“No,” Dipper replied, “I’m taking a stop to stretch my legs.”

“But we’re so close!”

“A five-minute stop won’t do too much. We’re making good time. It’s been nine hours, Mabel. I’m getting tired.”

“Let me drive! I wanna get there!”

“Mom told me not to let you. Remember?”

Mabel rolled her eyes, “Come on, Dipper! It was one time! Don’t be such a fartface.”

“You ran over dad’s foot, Mabel.”

“Pfft. Please. He was fine!”

“He was on crutches for a month.”

“It’s a heartwarming story about a man fighting through an injury. You’re so negative!”

“Spin it however you want. You’re not driving.”

“Hey, I got my license!”

“And we still don’t know how.”

Dipper turned the truck into a parking lot, the large sign in front of the parking lot boasting gas prices beneath two dollars per gallon. The fuel gauge along the dashboard rested comfortably between E and F. He took note of the gas station’s name, planning on swinging by on the way back.

He put the car in park and gently opened the door. Warm summer air wrapped around him like a hug and pulled him out into the parking lot. Dipper’s arm brushed against the arm of his suit that hung in the backseat. The black satin acted as an insulator, covering part of the back window to keep the sun from turning the truck into an oven. Mabel’s similarly drab dress covered the rightmost window, leaving just enough space for Dipper to check his blindspots, and nothing more. 

Waddles oinked with excitement as Mabel removed him from the back of the car and him in her arms. 

“Just looking at that is depressing,” Dipper remarked, eyes on the funeral attire as he locked the car, “I wish we were coming back for a better reason.”

Mabel, usually quick with an optimistic remark, remained silent, breaking away from Dipper while he walked into the men’s room.

He cupped his hands beneath a sink and splashed cold water on his face. The bathroom had the musk that one would expect at a gas station, Dipper making sure to breathe through his mouth to keep the stench from burning into his psyche forever. 

A small part of missed stubble appeared on the sides of his face as the water darkened them. Dipper muttered to himself, vowing to find a way to fix it before they arrived. He would have to look his best for the following day’s plans. 

Once he felt awake, Dipper left the bathroom, covering his hand with his sleeve to keep the residual contaminants from reaching his skin. Dipper knew what went on in gas-station bathrooms. The last thing he wanted was to spend his summer curled up in bed with a barf bowl at his side. 

He caught sight of Mabel at the cash register buying a piece of pepperoni pizza along with a bottle of Coca-Cola. It wasn’t any Pitt-Cola, but he figured beggars couldn’t be choosers. The cashier shot her a quizzical glance as he noticed Waddles poking his head out of Mabel’s sweater. 

Mable handed the cashier a handful of bills and happily turned around, taking a bite of her food before noticing Dipper. 

“Dipper!” Mabel said, “This place is awesome! I got a scratch-off ticket!”

Sure enough, she reached into her sparkly, cat-shaped purse and pulled out an Oregon lottery ticket, having already scratched the numbers off and left the residue coating the side of a penny. 

“You didn’t win anything,” Dipper remarked.

“Duh,” Mabel said, still grinning from ear to ear, “The scratching is the best part! It’s better than money. It’s the journey, Dipper. Not the destination!”

“I’m…not sure I agree with you on that.”

“Whatever. Dope.”

“I’ll race you back to the car?”

“Oh, you’re on!”

Dipper had taken to the occasional jog in the morning when he felt like it. It was an easy way to wake himself up during the summer mornings without school weighing on his mind. He had yet to know if he had made any progress. A little sprint to the car would be a good test of his endurance.

“Alright,” Mabel said, “Waddles, you be the judge.”

Waddles wiggled out of Mabel’s sweater and onto the pavement. Mabel waited until he had reached the truck to begin the countdown.

She took the starting position. Dipper did the same.

“On three!” Mabel said, “One…Two…Three!”

The duo took off from the front door of the gas station. Dipper dug his feet into the ground, pushing himself forward as he placed one hand on the woolen lumberjack’s cap on his head, keeping it from flying away. 

Mabel quickly gained ground. Dipper maintained a comfortable lead for only a few seconds. Powered by sugar and the rejuvenation of a roadside nap, she had far more energy.

Dipper wouldn’t go down without a fight. He dug deep and forced his feet to move faster, struggling to catch his breath as he leapt over a curb and reached towards the car door. Mabel’s footsteps pounded the pavement just seconds behind.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that!” Dipper exclaimed, throwing himself onto the truck’s red exterior.

Mabel let out a fake pout, “Fine. You win. Now open the door. I want to eat my pizza.”

Waddles hopped back into the backseat while Dipper and Mabel took up the driver’s and passenger seats respectively. 

“I’m gonna call Grunkle Stan and let him know we’re almost there,” Dipper said, pulling out his phone, “You good with waiting a few seconds?”

Mabel nodded.

Her phone lit up with text messages and other notifications as the screen lit up. Dipper, meanwhile, only had a notification from the Duolingo Owl, admonishing him for missing a day of his Polish lessons. 

Teaching Grunkle Stan to operate a phone had been a difficult process. It had taken the patience of a saint to show him how to answer a call. Ford had been even worse. He insisted that cell phones were ugly and that landlines were the way to go. 

Four rings escaped the phone before Stan’s gravely voice picked up. 

“Hey, kid,” Grunkle Stan said, “What do you need? It’d better not be money.”

“Good afternoon to you too,” Dipper sighed, “Mabel and I are about to get back on the interstate. We should be at the shack in about an hour.”

“Wait, you’re driving?!”

“Yes. I told you.”

“I thought you were messing with me. Like when I told you I had a twin brother.”

“You DO have a twin brother.” 

“Whatever. Hey, if you’re driving, do you think you'd be able to do a small favor for me? I’ve got some pugs that…uh…necesitan llegar a Oaxaca. If you know what I mean.”

“I’m not smuggling pugs across the border for you, Grunkle Stan.”

“Fine. Have it your way. And hey, don’t park in my parking spot!”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence followed. Dipper opened his mouth to say goodbye, only to be cut off by Stan at the last minute. 

“So…uh…how are you kids holding up? You know, with McGucket and all.”

“We’re doing alright,” Dipper replied, “At least he’s not in pain anymore. What about you and Ford?”

“I barely knew the guy. Ford’s been quiet. He hasn’t said much about him.”

“Keep an eye on him until we get there, okay?”

“I don’t think I need to. He’s been in his lab watching Family Ties for the last hour. First time I’ve seen him do something other than work. It’s weird, Dipper. Scientists aren’t supposed to relax.”

“Yeah. Sure…”

“Whatever. I’ll see you kids soon. Sorta sucks that you’re coming all this way for a funeral.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Alright. If the guy at the toll booth tries to rip you off, floor it and break through the fence. They don’t have cameras up here.”

“They’re not ripping us off, Grunkle Stan. They’re collecting our tolls to fund the roads.”

“Like I said. They’re ripping you off.”

“See you in an hour.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Dipper placed his phone back on the dashboard and placed his hand on the shifter. The engine roared to life with the turn of the keys. 

Within minutes, they were back on the interstate, the speedometer steadily creeping up to seventy as the open road stretched out for miles ahead. Large hills with valleys at their bases flowed around the countryside like waves on an ocean. Small towns lined the bases of forests. Smoke rose from grills, children played in yards, and birds rested atop powerlines, unaware of how close it had all come to destruction. 

Dipper still had nightmares about Weirdmageddon. They had become less frequent as the years passed. Little by little, the rose-colored fuzz surrounding his memories of Gravity Falls had faded. Each time he thought of the mystery shack, he saw Bill rising from the ground and opening the blood-red sky. He woke up some nights in a cold sweat, rushing down the hall as his mind told him that Mabel had been taken, breathing a sigh of relief once he found her sound asleep in her bed. 

On the other hand, there was a certain beauty in returning to a childhood wonder after yeast apart. Nightmares could only warp so much of his perception. Sometimes, on a particularly lonely night, he would flip through Mabel’s scrapbook and fondly reflect on that fateful summer. So many smiles, so wide that not even the darkest of days could turn them. There was a glimmer in his eyes that he had spent years chasing. An elusive emotion unicorn, it always felt just out of reach. A part of him wondered if returning to the Falls would bring that glimmer back and drive the nightmares back into limbo where they belonged. 

Six years had passed since the bus had taken that winding path. Dipper swerved left and right as the road swayed, paying close attention to the bright yellow hazard signs scattered along the grassy railingings. Puffy cumulus clouds rose overhead and briefly obscured the sun, only to surprise Dipper with a flash of blinding sunlight once it passed. He reached for the visor overhead and positioned it just above his forehead. 

“Go away, clouds!” Mabel scorned, opening the passenger window and raising her fist into the air, “I want the sun! It’s summer!”

In a few short seconds, her hair had been frizzled by the wind, strands running every which way across her head. It looked like she had just been electrocuted. 

Mabel let out a cough and spat out a wad of hair, “Bleh. Wind is stupid too.”

Dipper chuckled, “Another reason why I’m the one driving.”

Through the rearview mirror, Dipper caught sight of Mabel turning around in her seat, eyes directed towards the funeral attire resting in the back of the truck. 

“Dipper?” Mabel asked, the childlike lilt in her voice gone, “Is it normal that I feel sad?”

Dipped nodded, “Of course it is. We knew McGucket better than most people did. It’s been a few years since we’ve seen him, sure, but he was our friend. You never really forget someone like that.”

“But I also feel happy. We get to see Grunkle Stan again! And Grunkle Ford! And the Mystery Shack! And Wendy, and Soos, and Lazy Susan, and Candy and Grenda-”

“Mabel. Take a breath.”

“Sorry. I don’t know what to feel. I don’t want to be happy, because McGucket died. You’re not supposed to be happy when someone dies. But I also don’t want to be sad, because then I can’t enjoy our trip.”

Mabel rolled back into her seat and buried her head inside of her sweater, “Not even Sweatertown can help me.”

“You don’t need to go to Sweatertown,” Dipper said, clearing his throat, “This whole thing is new to us. We’ve never really dealt with it before.”

“What about Skitts?”

“He died when we were nine. We hardly knew what was going on.”

“What about mom and dad?”

“They’re not dead, Mabel.”

“No…but sometimes it feels like they are.”

“What?”

Mable reached forward and pulled the graduation photo out of her scrapbook, “We don’t have a single picture with both mom and dad in it. Doesn’t that make you sad? It used to be so much nicer when we were younger.”

“But they’re not dead, Mabel. Things changed. They didn’t love each other anymore.”

“I just don’t get it.”

“Stuff like that is hard for everyone. This summer will be a nice break, you know?” 

“I guess.”

“You’re allowed to be sad about McGucket. But you’re also allowed to be happy. You can feel two things at once.”

Dipper made a mental note of that comment, planning to write it down later if he ended up needing it.

“It’s not like you’re happy that he died,” Dipper continued, “We’re going to go to the funeral tomorrow and pay our respects. All things considered, he lived a pretty good life. Seventy-five is right around the life expectancy.” 

“Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are old too.”

“I mean, yeah, but not as old as McGucket.”

“Didn’t Grunkle Ford and Old Man McGucket go to college together?”

“I-I mean, yeah. But Grunkle Ford wasn’t shooting himself in the face with a memory gun.” 

“But they’re both old. Won’t we have to worry about them too one day?” 

Dipper paused. He had never considered the Grunkles’ age before. They had been old for as long as Dipper had known them. Sure, they were eligible for senior discounts, but they were tough. Nothing would take them down. If a dimension-eating demon couldn’t get to them, a seventy-fifth birthday was nothing. 

“Are you kidding?” Dipper asked with a smile, “They’re tough as nails. Remember when Grunkle Stan fought off zombies with his bare hands? Or when Ford survived thirty years in a nightmare dimension? Nothing can take them down.”

Mable emerged from her sweater with a smile on her face, “That’s true. They’re tough.”

“And now we get to see them again. In twenty minutes, we’ll be pulling back up to Gravity Falls, and we’ll be right where we belong. Back in our home away from home.”

Those last words left Dipper’s mouth with a grin. For the first time in years, he felt true excitement, the allure of Gravity Falls pulling him closer as the highway gave way to dirt roads. The nightmares, for a moment, felt like a distant memory, taking note of the road signs as they drew closer. A large green sign mounted on a wooden post told Dipper everything that he needed to know. 

Gravity Falls: 10 Miles. 

“This place feel familiar yet?” Dipper asked.

“Sorta,” Mabel replied, “The trees look taller.”

“They probably are. It’s been six years.”

Waddles crawled into the front seat and wiggled onto Mabel’s lap. Mabel picked the pig up and held him towards the window.

“What about that, Waddles?” Mabel asked, “Happy to be back home?”

A gleeful squeal came as a reply.

“I’m not leaving without filling this scrapbook,” Mabel said, leg bouncing with each passing mile, “I bought film, Dipper. FILM! It’s going to be AMAZING!” 

Dipper certainly hoped so. Summer afternoons cooped up in his room waiting for something to happen had grown boring. Gravity Falls was a place of adventure, mystery, and thrill. For better or for worse, there was never a dull moment within its borders, feasting on the confusion and bewilderment of its residents. Knowing that Bill was gone made the nightmares seem more distant. They were safe. Weirdmageddon was over. 

For six summers, Dipper had devoted all of his time and energy to rekindling that spark of life. Something was different about Gravity Falls. The colors were brighter, the people were nicer, and the smiles were wider. It was one of the only mysteries he had left to solve. With a semester away at school just around the corner, their visit to the Falls provided Dipper one last chance to live the summer he wanted.

He had the benefit of hindsight. No more hopelessly pining over older women, or summoning video game characters to fight his battles. Dipper had three months to maximize his summer fun. With six additional years of life experience, a driver’s license, and a healthy dose of anxiety medication, nothing would stop him. Nightmares included. 

“You’re smiling, Dipper,” Mabel chuckled, “You thinking of anyone? Maybe the lumberjack that gave you that dopey hat?”

Dipper turned his head as the tails of Wendy’s old hat brushed against his head. She had given it to him as a parting gift during their last summer, a summer that Dipper had almost ruined with his hopeless infatuation. It had taken almost three months to get over her.

“No, I’m not,” Dipper finally said, “I’m over her, Mabel. I think I’m going to take a break from romance this summer.”

“A break? Pfft,” Mable scoffed, “I can finally work on my matchmaking again! Don’t think I won’t be trying to find you a special someone.”

“I don’t know, Mabel. I wasted so much of last summer trying to get with Wendy. I think it’s time I focus on something else. We both know how that turned out for me.”

“So, you get rejected once and pine over a girl for a whole summer? Big whoop. Come on. You’ve gotta let me try. Do you think the Big Dipper’s ever alone in the sky? No! It’s got all its other constellation friends! We’re gonna find you a special little constellation!”

Mabel, in the midst of her silliness, would occasionally let a phrase slip from her mouth that would leave the likes of Kipling and Twain speechless. That was one of those moments. Dipper didn’t anticipate there being another one for the rest of the summer. 

There was no stopping Mabel when she put her mind to something. Dipper decided that the best option was to try and direct her attention elsewhere. 

“I was thinking about asking Grunkle Stan if we could go to Lazy Susan’s diner for dinner tonight,” Dipper suggested, “What do you think?”

Mabel grabbed his shoulder with excitement, causing the wheel to shift slightly in Dipper’s hand, “Yes! Please!”

Dipper spun the wheel back and got the truck back on track. The tries kicked up dirt from their brief time off of the road. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Dipper regained his focus and continued along the path. 

“Sorry!” Mabel said, “Road hazard.”

“Clearly. I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Dipper asked.

“Duh!”

“Good.”

The dirt roads became increasingly dilapidated as the truck rolled along the path. Decorated road signs soon became rusty chunks of metal nailed to rotting wooden poles. Woodpeckers poked their red crests out of little notches within the wood.

“Yep, it’s really starting to look like Gravity Falls,” Dipper remarked,

“You can tell by the lack of infrastructure.”

“It’s just rustic!” Mabel said, “It’s part of the charm.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

Soon, the truck took a turn down a familiar avenue, past the main street of the town. It remained almost completely unchanged. Aside from a few areas of overgrown shrubbery or missing trees, it looked exactly like Dipper remembered. The same log-cabin-style buildings lined the streets in a single line. Asphalt softened the truck’s drive. Dipper squinted his eyes as they drove, wondering if he would catch any familiar faces. 

Then he saw it.

In the distance, over a forest of pine trees, was the ever-familiar Gravity Falls water tower. To outsiders it was unremarkable. A large metal tank was surrounded by four wooden supports, towering some hundred feet off of the ground. The city name was etched onto the metal with black ink. It watched over the city like a sleeping giant, ready to leap into action should Gravity Falls need it.

Mabel was bursting at the seams with excitement. Her smile spread wide enough that Dipper could see it in the rearview mirror. He turned down a side road past the city’s park, approaching a tree-shaded road. 

Dipper, for a moment, felt twelve years old again. The pine trees loomed over him just like they had six years ago. The dirt path leading up the hills and valleys was just as he remembered them. Footprints ran haphazardly back and forth. Dipper wondered if they were his. 

The Mystery Shack appeared just beyond a clearing, with its “h” still missing. Three cars sat in the parking lot. A red truck that Dipper recognized as Wendy’s, an old convertible that practically had Grunkle Stan’s name on it, and a particularly dated Chevrolet that he assumed was Grunkle Ford’s. Dipper’s sleek black truck was set to join the lineup. 

Customers strolled out of the shack’s front door. Dipper thought that they were leaving as a group, until he saw a pair of arms shooing them out. A shadowed figure behind a murky glass pane flipped the open sign around and closed the shack for the day.

Dipper turned down the radio as he approached the front. He had yet to spot any faces outside the shack, although he anticipated their appearance.

Waddles knew where he was. He began to let out short squeals as he spun around on Mabel’s lap. Small thumps escaped the car’s door as the pig’s hooves pounded on it in an attempt to escape.

“Are you ready for this?” Dipper asked, sliding into a nearby parking spot and watching as the early afternoon sun lit up the Mystery Shack like a stage light. 

Mabel didn’t respond, instead throwing open the door, grabbing Waddles on the way out, and sprinting out of the car before Dipper had a chance to get in another word. 

Dipper chuckled, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

AO3 Link

[velaris-fic-repository]

Modern Things I Believe ACOTAR Characters Would Love

I selected some of these for comedic purposes but mostly based on vibes

Feyre

Sandbox/Color-by-number apps

Renaissance Festivals

Gracie Abrams

Themed makeup/face paint videos

Big cardigans

Texting using only emojis

Giving silly nicknames to all of her contacts

Floor Time™️

Sprayed/Stenciled edges on books

Websites where you can search recipes based on ingredients you already have

Six the Musical

Stuffed animals made to look like miniature versions of real animals

DIY channels

Paintball

Rhysand

Pinterest

Tumblr aesthetic moodboards

Black IKEA furniture

The Great Gatsby (both book and musical)

Aladdin

Throw blankets

Met Gala outfits

Owl City

Prank Wars

Daily Affirmations

Origami star jars

Fairy lights

Sheer shirts

The theatre kid aesthetic

Nesta

BOOKTOK

WITCHTOK

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Minnesota Frost)

P!nk

The Traitors

Bath bombs

Fuzzy socks

GoodReads

Immersive audiobook + physical book reading

Fail compilations

Slasher movies

Complicated Starbucks orders

Self defense weapons disguised as other things

Elain

Baking blogs

Scrapbook journaling

Starkid musicals

The Owl House

Jean jacket + dress outfits

Water bottle stickers

The Arcadian Wild (their music is really good!)

Travel vlogs

Build-a-Bear

Shakespeare productions

Volunteer work

Petitions

Earth Day

Every Day’s A Holiday calendars

Mor

Reddit “Am I The Asshole” posts and videos

Hear Me Out Cakes

Arcane

Wearing converse with dresses

Charcuterie parties

Also Met Gala outfits

Prank parking citations

Mario Kart and other such party games

Cards Against Humanity

SNL

Having a phone case for every outfit

Glitter gel pens

Leather jackets in colors other than black

The rediscovery of Shakespearean insults

Amren

Cryptids/Urban Legends

Horror podcasts

Dark Academia literature

Uno

One Night Ultimate Werewolf

Friendship jewelry

Themed Study/Ambience music

Book tabs

Desk lamps

Battery operated candles

Dracula Daily

Whodunnits

Logic puzzles

Halloween decorations

Cassian

The Green/Red Flag Guy

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Montreal Victoire)

Those dog daycare/adoption center videos where they list funny things about the animals

Sleeveless hooded gym shirts

Shirts that say things like, “I flexed so hard my sleeves ripped off”

The Olympics

Water bottles with the motivational checkpoints written on them

The Emperor’s New Groove

“Action Man? Who the hell is Action Man? Oh my god, no, it’s John Wick” and other such meme TikTok sounds

Marvel movies

Fluffy romance novels

Super Bowl Commericals

Chaotic cooking shows

Chappell Roan

Azriel

Cat videos of any kind

Unconventional pets like snakes and lizards

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Boston Fleet)

LED light strips

Buzzfeed Unsolved

True Crime

Dubstep

Bluetooth headphones

Motorcycles and dirt bikes

Night driving

Batman comics and movies

Silent discos

Fake plants

“Stalking” people on social media

Lucien

Baldur’s Gate 3

Critical Role

DND in general

National parks

Travel mugs

Postcards

Poetry collections

Hot Chocolate mixes with the mini marshmallows

Saying things to women to ensure they aren’t afraid of him when passing them on a hike

Nature documentaries, especially ones with sarcastic narration

Scientific hubris as a trope

Cozy fantasy books

Book lights

PowerPoint nights

[dollsofthewest]

AG Cowgirl Outfits

Following in the footsteps of @enby-dollhouse and @doll-collecting-aerialist, who did posts on the variety of ballerina and tennis outfits respectively, I wanted to do my take on a section of AG outfits I love: cowgirls! Saddle up and let's head out!

Rootin', Tootin' Cowgirl (1998)

Okay, so maybe this is the outfit that inspired me to do this post in the first place. This is adorable. It's rootin'. It's tootin'. I love the bright blue color. It's advertised as a Halloween costume, but doubles just fine as a fancy rodeo outfit. I do like the idea that you can be the sheriff, or the bandit, or both at the same time! And lest we forget to mention that black cat trick-r-treat bucket!!

Molly's Dude Ranch Outfit (2004)

Is anybody doing it like Miss Molly? This outfit was not connected with any book but released as part of a "Summer Fun" collection. I like to imagine Molly went to a dude ranch near Yellowstone National Park, or maybe somewhere along her Route 66 Adventure. It's cute and pretty authentic to rodeo shows. Also, look at her little canteen!

Nicki's Ranch Outfit (2007)

Most cowgirls don't wear the fancy rodeo costumes like a lot of people think: those are for the shows and fairs! During her daily work, Nicki wears her own pink version of modern jeans, chaps, and boots. And of course her staw hat to protect her from the sun.

Rustic Ranch Outfit (2008)

Another practical outfit; it may look impractical to wear a skirt but I've seen girls who prefer it, if they are riding side-saddle. The vest is kind've plain, but it comes with a horse-themed scrapbook and a (faux) leather Western Hat.

Western Riding Outfit (2010)

Definitely a casual pick for our cowgirl. Fit for farm or school, everybody knows exactly what animal is this American Girl's favorite. Like Nicki, this girl wears a straw hat, but she'll need sunblock if she's going to ride all day with those short sleeves and skirt!

Western Plaid Outfit (2014)

I like to think of this as Abercrombie Horse Girl. I'm not sure how practical that dress is for horse riding, and I'm a bit worried about those loose band around her boots. Still, this girl has something not previously seen, even with Nicki, and that's the very important helmet! Always wear a helmet while horse riding!!

Pretty Pink Riding Outfit (2014)

Sold at the same time as the previous one, so you could choose which outfit you wanted with your life-saving helmet. This girl is wearing what I liked to call Gucci Horse Girl.

Blue-Ribbon Riding Outfit (1998)

I forgot this one so I'm adding it here to show you what I would consider an Ideal Horse Riding outfit. Helmet: check! Proper boots: check! The coat even comes with functional pockets and inner thigh padding. She certainly gets the blue ribbon from me for best dressed!

Maryellen's Cowgirl Outfit (2022)

Ah, a return to classics! This is about as stereotypical "cowgirl" as you can get. As far as I'm aware, this is meant to be her Halloween costume, which tracks with how popular cowgirls & cowboys were during the 1950s. Lookin' cute, Miss Maryellen!

Lila's Horseback Riding Outfit (2024)

I think when Glen Campbell sang "Rhinestone Cowboy" he wasn't talking about this. Still, maybe this is what horse girls these days wear? It's a shame to see a modern girl without a helmet, but you can't deny this fits Miss Lila's style to a tee!

What is your favorite AG cowgirl/horse-riding outfit? What would you like to see made in the future?

[copperbadge]

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

[southernsolarpunk]

Hey check this out

I was making a zine (solarpunk ofc) and decided to use a bunch of old National Geographic magazines to cut up and use in a scrappy diy scrapbook fashion and of course I started reading them. This one in particular:

It caught my eye because it’s from September 1980 & talks about the Middle East. My brain wonders if they mention Palestine and they do! I copied the text for accessibility, but I put pictures at the end of the original pages.

“Jerusalem: reunited or occupied? The question has divided the city's 400,000 Jews and 100,000 Arabs since Israel annexed East Jerusalem in 1967.

BEIRUT, JANUARY 1975. Armed soldiers lead me through labyrinthine back streets, up a dark stairway to a midnight rendez-vous. Only a bare bulb lights the temporary command post; Yasir Arafat, chairman of the Palestine Liberation Organization, seldom dares spend two days in the same place. “Our argument is not with the Jews” He tells me. "We are both Semites. They have lived with us for centuries. Our enemies are the Zionist colonizers and their backers who insist Palestine belongs to them exclusively.

We Arabs claim deep roots there too."

Two decades ago Palestinians were to be found in United Nations Relief Agency camps at places like Gaza and Jericho, in a forlorn and pitiable state. While Palestinian spokesmen pressed their case in world cap-itals, the loudest voice the world heard was that of terrorists, with whom the word Palestinian came to be associated. Jordan fought a war to curb them. The disintegration of Lebanon was due in part to the thousands of refugees within its borders.

Prospects for peace brightened, however, when President Anwar Sadat of Egypt, most powerful of the Arab countries, made his historic trip to Israel in November 1977. A year later Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin signed the Camp David accords, a framework for the return of the occupied Sinai Peninsula to Egypt.

The former enemies established diplomatic relations and opened mail, telephone, and airline communications.

The Camp David accords also addressed the all-important Palestinian question but left it vague. Sadat insists that any lasting peace depends on an eventual Palestinian homeland in the Israeli-occupied West Bank and Gaza. Israel agrees to limited autonomy for those regions, but, fearful of a new and hostile Palestinian state suddenly planted on its borders, insists that Israeli troops must maintain security there.

Crowded Rashidiyah refugee camp, set among orange groves south of the ancient Phoenician port of Tyre in Lebanon, lies on the front lines. Frequent pounding by Israeli military jets and warships seeking PLO targets has war-hardened its population, some 13,700 Palestinians.

At the schoolyard I watched a solemn flag raising. Uniformed ashbal, or lion cubs, stood rigid as color guards briskly ran up the green-white-and-black Palestinian flag.

Ranging in age from 8 to 12, they might have been Cub Scouts— except for the loaded rifles they held at present arms. Behind them stood two rows of girls, zaharat, or little flowers. Same age, same weapons.

Over lunch of flat bread, hummus, yo-gurt, and chicken I commented to my hosts, a group of combat-ready fedayeen, that 30 years of bitter war had settled nothing nor gained the Palestinians one inch of their homeland. Was there no peaceful way to press their cause?

"Yes, and we are doing it. Finally, after 30 years, most countries in the United Nations recognize that we too have rights in Palestine. But we feel that until your country stops its unconditional aid to Israel, we have two choices: to fight, or to face an unmarked grave in exile."

AFTER CROSSING the Allenby Bridge from Amman, I drove across the fertile Jordan Valley through Arab Jericho and past some of the controversial new Jewish settlements: Mitzpe Jericho, Tomer, Maale Adumim, Shilat. Then as I climbed through the steep stony hills to Jerusalem, I saw that it too had changed. A ring of high-rise apartments and offices was growing inexorably around the occupied Arab side of the walled town. Within the wall, too, scores of Arab houses had been leveled during extensive reconstruction.

"Already 64 settlements have been built on the West Bank," said a Christian Palestinian agriculturist working for an American church group in Jerusalem. "And another 10 are planned," he said. Unfolding a copy of the master plan prepared in 1978 by the World Zionist Organization, he read: "Real-izing our right to Eretz-Israel... with or without peace, we will have to learn to live with the minorities...

The Israeli Government has reaffirmed the policy. In Prime Minister Menachem Begin's words: "Settlement is an inherent and inalienable right. It is an integral part of our national security."

"Security" is a word deeply etched into the Israeli psyche. The country has lived for 30 years as an armed camp, always on guard against PLO raids and terrorist bombings.

Whenever such incidents occur, the response is quick: even greater retaliation.

In Jerusalem I met with David Eppel, an English-language broadcaster for the Voice of Israel. "We must continue to build this country. Israel is our lawful home, our des-tiny. We have the determination, and an immense pool of talent, to see it through." His cosmopolitan friends a city plan-ner, a psychology professor, an author gathered for coffee and conversation at David's modern apartment on Jerusalem's Leib Yaffe Road.

Amia Lieblich's book, Tin Soldiers on Jerusalem Beach, studies the debilitating effects almost constant war has had on life in the Jewish state, a nation still surrounded by enemies. As she and her husband kindly drove me to my hotel in Arab Jerusalem afterward, some of that national apprehension surfaced in the writer herself.

"We don't often come over to this part of town," she said. "Especially at night."

I DROVE OUT of the Old City in the dark of morning and arrived a few hours later at the nearly finished Israeli frontier post, whence a shuttle bus bounced me through no-man's-land to the Egyptian ter-minal. As a result of the Egyptian-Israeli treaty, it was possible for the first time since 1948 to travel overland from Jerusalem to Cairo. An Egyptian customs man opened my bags on a card table set up in the sand. I took a battered taxi into nearby El Arish, to a sleepy bank that took 45 minutes to convert dollars into Egyptian pounds, Then 1 hired a Mercedes for the

200-mile run across the northern Sinai des-ert, the Suez Canal, and the Nile Delta. By sundown Cairo was mine.

Despite official government optimism, I found many in Cairo worried that President Sadat's bold diplomatic gestures might fail.

The city was noticeably tense as Israel officially opened its new embassy on Mohi el-Din Abu el-Ez Street in Cairo's Dukki quarter. Black-uniformed Egyptian troops guarded the chancery and nearby intersections as the Star of David flew for the first time in an Arab capital. Across town, police with fixed bayonets were posted every ten feet around the American Embassy. Others were posted at the TV station and the larger hotels. Protests were scattered, mostly peaceful. None disturbed the cadence of the city.

Welcoming ever larger delegations of tourists and businessmen from Europe and the U.S., Cairo was busier than ever-and more crowded. Despite a building boom, many Egyptians migrating from the countryside, perhaps 10,000 a month, still find housing only by squatting among tombs at the City of the Dead, the huge old cemetery on the southeast side of the capital.

Even with the new elevated highway and wider bridge across the Nile, half-hour traffic standstills are common. Commuters arrive at Ramses Station riding even the roofs of trains, then cram buses until axles break.

Cairo smog, a corrosive blend of diesel fumes and hot dust from surrounding des-erts, rivals tear gas.

Despite the rampant blessings of prog-ress, Cairo can still charm. In the medieval Khan el-Khalili bazaar near Cairo's thousand-year-old Al-Azhar University, I sought out Ahmad Saadullah's sidewalk café. I found that 30 piasters (45 cents) still brings hot tea, a tall water pipe primed with tobacco and glowing charcoal, and the latest gossip. The turbaned gentleman on the carpeted bench opposite was unusually talk-ative; we dispensed with weather and the high cost of living and got right to politics:

"Of course I am behind President Sadat, but he is taking a great risk. The Israelis have not fully responded. If Sadat fails, no other Arab leader will dare try for peace again for a generation."

Across town at the weekly Akhbar El-Yom newspaper, one of the largest and most widely read in the Middle East, chief editor Abdel-Hamid Abdel-Ghani drove home that same point.

"What worries me most is that President Sadat's agreement with Israel has isolated Egypt from our brother nations," he told me. "When Saudi Arabia broke with us, it was a heavy loss. The Saudis are our close neighbors. Now they have canceled pledges for hundreds of millions in development aid to Egypt. Some 200,000 Egyptians-teach-ers, doctors, engineers live and work in the kingdom.

"And Saudi Arabia, guardian of the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, remains for Muslim Egypt a spiritual homeland."

This magazine was published before my mom was born, and yet the sentiments have basically unchanged. An interesting look at the past, and more proof this didn’t start October 7th. (But imagine my followers already knew that)

[murderousink23]

05/06/2023 is Sauvignon Blanc Day 🥂🌎, Free Comic Book Day 🌎, World Naked Gardening Day 👩‍🌾👨‍🌾🌎, Join Hands Day 🇺🇲, National Beverage Day 🍹🇺🇲, National Crepe Suzette Day 🇺🇲, National Laughter Day 🤣🇺🇲, National Nurses Day 👩‍⚕️👨‍⚕️🇺🇲, National Auctioneers Day 🇺🇲, National Homebrew Day 🍻🇺🇲, National Scrapbook Day 🇺🇲, International No Diet Day 🇬🇧

[fans4wga]

International Day of Solidarity on August 22: join a SAG-AFTRA/WGA picket!

[ID: tweet from SAG-AFTRA @/sagaftra that says, "Union Members ASSEMBLE!! In cities across the country, the labor movement is coming together Tuesday for National Day of Solidarity rallies and pickets. We are #1u Locations at http://sagaftrastrike.org/picket-schedule #SagAftraStrong #WGAstrong #Power2Performers".

Attached is an image with the strike logos "SAG-AFTRA ON STRIKE!" and "WRITERS GUILD ON STRIKE" on top, with big text in ransom note-style scrapbook letters that says, "NATIONAL DAY OF SOLIDARITY." Below that is the text "Tuesday, August 22" and "AFL-CIO" (which stands for American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations). end ID]

Click here to search the nationwide planned picket locations:

[jamsandsuch]

field notes: cheap goods

preparing for an event this weekend i set out to find a thrift store where i could hopefully find some scrapbooking material. it's rare that i see truly eclectic thrift stores in this trendy city where the local value village will already run you a diabolical 20 dollars for a pair of jeans.

but i had heard good things about this thrift store, so following the instructions on google maps I walked down along the rows of cafes and asian restaurants and descended down a set of stairs brandishing the proud sign "50% anti-tariffs sale!"

the store was fairly empty today, fair given that it was a thursday afternoon. i was delighted to see a whole area labelled 'crafts' fashioned from scrap fabrics and buttons. mission accomplished. but first, a set of community brochures by the door caught my eye: a meeting by the local government to support recent graduates seeking employment. a senior wellness group. some general touristy brochures. what did catch my eye, though, was a partnership with a local animal rescue. noticing my moment of pause, i was taken out of my trance by the middle-aged man at the register. "you lookin' at the rescue posters?"

as a graduate student during the last week of classes, today has been a long day of big vocabulary words and projects to juggle. some casual conversation was comparative relief. i walk up to the register and i strike up a conversation about the animal rescue, mentioning that i myself volunteer at one in another city. following a friendly exchange of animal photos, he extends his hand towards me and we exchange names with a firm handshake (i will never get used to handshakes. maybe growing up in asia has conditioned me to always bow). he tells me proudly of all the charities the thrift store's proceeds go to and their upcoming events, and i thank him for all the work he does because "god knows we need more community these days". laughing, he puts his hand on his hips and sighs. "oh yeah, we do."

he lets me go, telling me to check out their crafts section after i mention my interest in collaging. what proceeds is an hour of sifting through every map, every magazine, every discarded sticky note or memo donated to this store as the shopkeeper happily belts his bob marley songs in a booming voice that reminds me of my father's.

i listen passively as customers trickle in every now and then, noticing that with each one he greets them by name when he can remember. "how's your day been?" "it's been a while!" "good to see you!" they talk about the weather. they talk about where the many knick knacks the store come from. he teaches another middle-aged woman old enough to be my auntie how to tell if porcelain-ware is cracked by giving it a good tap.

meanwhile i sift through postcards, magazines, film slides, discarded pieces of people i will never know and places i will never go. handwritten in blue ballpoint pen ink: netherlands. the siene. dates on the backs of postcards: 1971, 1969. maps of macau. photos of indonesia. i carry so much i'm holding an armful of paper scraps and magazines. when i'm not looking the shopkeeper sets a basket behind me.

60 minutes later, i've had my fill. i set my basket down on the counter with an 'oof' and figure that things this valuable are going to run me a handsome sum. surely at one of those trendy 'vintage stores' they'd be selling these things for 15 a pop.

he pats two of my magazines. "since you're a first-time customer i'll give you these two for free." i thank him and wonder if he will remember me the next time i come by. i think what a nice thing it is, to be remembered.

i leave the store with:

a set of old astronomy magazines commemorating the anniversary of the griffith observatory

a set of national geographic magazines with stories and photo essays from the covid 19 pandemic

a dusty book dated to 1950 of chinese cities at the time

a map the tokyo transit system

a postcard of hiroshima

a ziploc baggie of stamps from cities around the country

a full heart

all for the humble price of $6 and a new person i know in this city.

[dixidin]

Genshin impact hcs for every nation pt.5

Fontaine edition!

Note: Fontaine is sadly ending! So, as a parting gift, especially since Natlan is right around the corner, here's the Fontaine version of my headcanons!

Another add on. So sorry that I'm posting this the day before Natlan!! I'm kinda taking a break from genshin and focusing a bit more on my personal life. I hope you enjoy!

Charlotte: Before when Charlotte was a journalist, she aspired to be a baker in her much younger youth, but as she got older, she realized the slight difficulties, and her love for baking was quickly swept away by her curiosity in journaling.

Chevreuse: Chevreuse secretly looks up to Clorinde a lot, especially during her early days of being a part of the security. But of course, she'll deny any accusations of her admiring the duelist.

Chiori: Despite Chiori secretly having a soft spot and able to go easy on customers who are harmed. Kids are a different story... the designer has always noticed a twinge of fear in children's faces. She's been lectured to smile more when complaining about her problem.

Clorinde: When Clorinde was growing up, she secretly really liked scrapbooking and writing about her day. She would spend countless hours in different shops picking out pretty stamps or patterned paper before designing the pages, feeling the satisfaction as she could finally write and dwindle on what stickers to choose. Those days are long gone, but she still keeps all her journals with them

Emilie: Surprisingly, Emilie wasn't born with the hair fading into pink! It was due to a rebellious faze with her parents, but she inevitably got attached to the pink hair, that and it was hard for her to it get out.

Freminet: Found it hard gathering hobbies other than diving. Music making, journaling, archery. It was all so tiring to him! But one thing he did found interesting was baking! Specifically baking bread. Though the only people who know are Lyney and Lynette with their peeping eyes.

Furina: Secretly really likes big flamboyant makeup, almost like drag or even juggalo, but got a bit anxious about wearing it, especially since she was a celebrity to her people, but now, as she has a simpler life as an actress. She's begun to lean more into that crazy style!

Lynette: As Lynette got older and her shows with her brother got bigger, as well as their style in fighting and tricks, one of the main problems they found was props. Of course, they were all over the globe! But as a secret child of The House of Hearth, props weren't the main problem... thankfully! Lynette soon learned how to draw and created her and Lyney's customized magic cards!

Lyney: When Lyney was younger and felt a bit more rebellious or just bored in The House of Hearth, he would buy any fake temporary tattoos that looked neat to him. He would always show Freminet and say that he could create new ones whenever they faded. The blond always believed him while his dearest sister just shook her head.

Navia: One of the main reasons Navia spends her long hours in the bathroom isn't for her hair or makeup, but for her concerts! She loves to sing and bathe in comforting bubbles, either reminiscing on memories or just having a laugh to herself.

Neuvillette: As Neuvillette became the Ludex, he found himself bored and envying some of the Fountaine folks who talked about their new hobbies or interests. Inevitably, Neuvillette found himself researching and taught himself how to create jewelry. Before just as a gift for Furina and her flamboyant self, now turning into a personal comfort and charm for different accessories.

Sigewinne: When Wriothesley was growing up in the fortress, Sigewinne couldn't help but notice his scratched up clothes, especially with how big he was growing! As a result, Sigewinne learned how to sew and made him some new clothes, as well as just learning in general with clothing for herself or for younger kids.

Wriothesley: When Wrio was younger and an orphan, he had no clue how to write, let alone read. So when he was brought into his new family, he was ecstatic to learn from his siblings and read any sort of fairytail. But after his murder and trial, he found it hard to get back into writing or reading due to his memories of his family, but Sigewinne taught him how to learn and love again every slow step of the way.

If you repost this on another website, please give credit. Any like or repost is greatly appreciated -dixidin

Tags:

[kismets-barista]

HEEHEE Dolly now has a voice claim,,, it's Tilly from Big City Greens!

Also since I'm here, fun facts about Dolly!

🌟 @quizzyy and I decided to give her the same tail malformation we gave Hickory, which is just a tail that hangs like a country troll's but doesn't work too well for them. She LOVES it though, and puts little butterfly clips and fake pearls on it/lets Poppy decorate it and brushes it a lot

🌟Yodels, and is learning German. (John Dory is as well, but Dolly picked it up faster than he did so she can run her mouth in TWO languages.

🌟Something tells me she's a plaid girlie. Mostly skirts with a lot of frilly shirts, and a bandana or little cowboy hat to match Hickory. She hates the goggles but likes to steal and hide them to mess with Dory.

🌟LOVES Poppy and will do anything with her. Scrapbooking? Yes. Singing? Yes. Cooking? Yes, but she gets to have a handful of sugar. Just one. If she won't listen to her dads, or her uncles, she'll listen to Poppy. Poppy also teaches her a lot about using her hair since she keeps it pulled back and it needs to be tighter/in a scrunchie to concentrate and use it. (There's a post out there about Poppy being disabled and I am SO here for it,,, if I can find it I'll link it!)

Aaaaand that's about it for now. But Dolly Nation rise up 👊🤠👊

(Sorry to tag you twice in one day but pspsps @ohposhers >:]) 💜🌟🫧