#Wendy Abraham

[willstafford]

Full of Beans

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK Gatehouse Theatre, Stafford, Thursday 12th December 2024 Eric Potts is a giant of pantomime and, although he doesn’t grace the stage in this production, the script bears his hallmarks from start to finish.  If there’s anything he doesn’t know about pantomime, it probably isn’t worth knowing.  This show is just one of ten he has written this year for venues throughout the…

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

I also designed the Gender Bent versions of them as kids! Had fun! And yes, Wendy's striking her best Sailor Moon pose!

[uss-protostar]

Mark and Doug in the first scene

"Marky boy! Ah, did I wake you up? "Yes you did." "You are a real friend, I want you to know that." ER, "24 Hours", dir. Rod Holcomb

[leatheryhoward]

ER Rewatch: S02E07 Hell and High Water

[pretty-little-fools]

[semena--mertvykh]

Un autre enfer que le mien

J'avais beau m'y attendre et m'y préparer depuis des jours, la réponse négative de l'EHESS à ma candidature n'a pas été un moment facile à vivre.

Étrangement, ce qui me taraude dans cet échec, c'est le sentiment de honte par rapport à Sexy - lequel s'en fout pas mal, d'ailleurs, et pour une fois, son indifférence est un soulagement.

Je voulais candidater bien avant de le rencontrer, évidemment, mais dans ce désir est venue se mêler la croyance que, si j'intégrais cette prestigieuse école, il allait me regarder autrement. Ces trucs de diplômes et de grandes écoles ont l'air tellement importants pour lui.

=> il allait me regarder avec cette concupiscence de classe qu'il a réservée à la sempiternelle insipide poupée blonde à ma droite, à la réunion de stage - celle qui a fait Sciences-Po...

Énième déclinaison de notre cauchemar à toutes, Elle a tout ce que je n'ai pas / Elle n'a qu'à se baisser pour ramasser les cœurs / Pendant que moi, je rame comme une grosse crevarde.

Autres réalités douloureuses à encaisser :

le fait que je ne serai pas chercheuse

le fait que je n'ai pas trouvé de Master musico qui me plaise et/ou qui soit disposé à m'accueillir, ce qui signifie que :

pour la première fois depuis quatre ans, je ne suis inscrite nulle part l'année prochaine, ce qui signifie que :

je vais devoir me remettre à travailler, alors que je n'en ai pas fini avec l'université et que j'ai encore des choses à dire ;

et accessoirement - un détail en comparaison de ce qui précède : çà fait mal, quand vous vous êtes choisi un environnement d'élection et que cet environnement vous rejette...

_______________________________________

Qu'est-ce qu'on peut écouter dans ces moments-là ? Qu'est-ce que j'écoute quand je vais vraiment très mal ? C'est compliqué. Si chansons tristes = du sel sur une plaie, mais si chansons gaies = encore pire.

Je crois, une chanson que j'écoutais à un autre moment de crise, en me demandant si j'allais y survivre.

=> I can see the light, de Mike Oldfield, pas terrible musicalement mais les paroles me touchent toujours, et j'avais 18 ans et j'étais en train de quitter ce type, qui me tabassait, qui disait qu'il allait me tuer si je partais, et je savais qu'il en était capable, et je savais aussi que je préférais mourir que de retourner avec lui, j'étais terrifiée et prête à mourir mais j'avais écrit cet adage sur mon cahier de textes, pour me donner du courage : Mieux vaut vivre un jour comme un lion que cent ans comme un mouton.

Oui, j'en suis à peu près là. Chaque journée supplémentaire où je suis encore en vie est une victoire.

Mike Oldfield, dont le fils est mort dans la trentaine. Alors, lui aussi sait ce que c'est, de perdre ce à quoi on tient par dessus tout. Deux ans après cette tragédie, il disait : "You’ve got no choice but to live with it".

___________________________________________

Les nuits sont difficiles mais dans la journée, écouter Adèle Haenel, Iris Brey, Dorothée Dussy, Juliet Drouar, parler d'inceste sur Médiapart, m'apporte du réconfort. Leur intelligence, leur réflexion, la rigueur qu'elles emploient à choisir les bons mots, et savoir qu'elles ont vécu des évènements terribles même s'ils sont différents des miens, m'aident à tenir mon propre enfer à une certaine distance. Car ce ne sont pas les hommes violents qui font le plus de mal, mais la maltraitance maternelle qui a permis cela. Si ma mère ne m'avait pas cassée, jamais les hommes ne m'auraient eue.

Disons qu'elles m'aident à admettre cette vérité terrible : cet enfer-là, de devoir renoncer encore une fois à accomplir ma vocation, c'est celui dans lequel je vais devoir vivre dorénavant ; ce n'est sans doute pas le pire, çà reste un enfer quand même, et je vais devoir essayer d'y aménager un espace respirable malgré tout, parce que je ne suis pas sûre d'avoir assez de temps et de force désormais pour espérer en sortir.

Quelle ironie. Je croyais que de devoir renoncer à Sexy, c'était çà le cataclysme de l'année - quand toutes les alarmes se sont mises à sonner dans ma vie en même temps. Je croyais que je serais tranquille après cela. Mais c'était juste un séisme avant-coureur. La vraie catastrophe arrive maintenant, et elle met par terre tout ce qui tenait encore debout.

[the-joy-of-knowledge]

TED Talks to end the Year on a high note

Brain Magic by Keith Barry

The brain changing benefits of exercise by Wendy Suzuki

Power foods for the brain by Neal Barnard

Intermittent fasting: Transformational Technique by Cynthia Thurlow

You don't find happiness, you create it by Katarina Bloom

The Art of being yourself by Caroline McHugh

The magic of not caring by Sarah Knight

How to not take things personally by Frederik Imbo

Speaking Up Without Freaking Out by Matt Abrahams

How to motivate yourself to change your behavior by Tali Sharot

[firstfullmoon]

claire schwartz (poetry editor at jewish currents) shared info about a virtual gathering of poets to raise medical aid to help palestine tomorrow (oct 18th) at 5pm PT / 8pm ET / 2am CET (register here). other poets present include danez smith, george abraham (author of the ars poetica in which every pronoun is a Free Palestine poem), solmaz sharif, lena khalif tuffaha (author of the running orders poem), wendy xu, summer farah (author of the PORTRAIT OF ME AS BREAD BAKING IN JERUSALEM poem)

[pupsmailbox]

HALLOWEEN ID PACK

NAMES︰ abraham. abraxas. adam. adrian. adrienne. alaric. alfred. alistair. amity. ann. annabelle. apple. arawn. ash. avaric. azazel. azrael. azriel. barnabas. belladonna. berry. blair. blaize. blake. blanche. boq. brain. bram. bridgette. bronwen. burton. candi. candy. caradoc. carmilla. carrie. casper. cassia. castor. choco. claire. clarice. claudia. cole. coraline. corbin. crimson. cuthbert. damien. damon. daphne. dark. debra. dexter. draco. dracula. drake. duncan. ebony. edgar. elena. eli. elphaba. elvira. ember. estelle. eve. eye. fable. fang. fergus. finn. fiyero. frankenstein. freddie. freddy. frederick. george. ghost. ghoul. giles. glinda. griffin. grimm. gummy. hades. hallorann. hallow. hawthorne. heath. heathcliff. hecate. hekate. hela. hemlock. henry. ichabod. igor. ike. ivan. jack. jason. jasper. josette. knox. layla. lazarus. lenore. lester. licorice. lilith. lolly. lucinda. luella. luna. lunette. mab. malcolm. marnie. mary. matilda. mike. mikey. mina. morgan. morgana. mortimer. nancy. neoma. nessarose. nimue. norman. obsidian. onyx. orenda. orion. osiris. othello. pandora. payne. peach. perdita. poe. poison. pumpkin. radcliff. raven. reese. remus. renwick. requiem. rhiannon. romero. rosalie. rosemary. ross. ruby. rune. ruth. saber. sabrina. sage. salem. sally. sam. samhain. scarlett. sebastian. semyazza. seth. sibyl. sid. sirius. stella. stephen. sylvia. tabitha. thackery. trick. twila. twilight. udolpho. vamp. vampire. vanellope. vespera. victor. victoria. viktor. vincent. vlad. voltaire. wanda. wednesday. wendy. werewolf. wes. wesley. wilhelmina. willow. winifred. winter. wolf. wren. xander. zelda.

PRONOUNS︰ attic/attic. bat/bat. bell/bell. black/black. blood/blood. bone/bone. boo/boo. cabre/macabre. candle/candle. candy/bar. candy/candy. candybar/candybar. carve/carve. cavity/cavity. cem/cemetery. chaos/chaos. choco/chocola. claw/claw. co/coffin. costume/costume. crim/crimson. cry/crypt. dark/dark. darkroom/darkroom. demon/demon. devil/devil. dread/dreadful. end/ender. eve/eve. fair/fair. fang/fang. fest/festival. flick/flick. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. grem/gremlin. grim/grim. grue/gruesome. hallo/ween. hallow/hallow. hallow/halloween. halloween/halloween. haunt/haunt. haunted/haunted. hay/hayride. hex/hex. hide/hide. howl/howl. imp/imp. mis/mischeif. mon/monster. monster/monster. myst/mystery. para/normal. poi/poison. poison/poison. polter/geist. prank/prank. pum/pumpkin. pump/kin. pump/pumpkin. pumpkin/pumpkin. scare/crow. scream/scream. shriek/shriek. skel/skeleton. skeleton/skeleton. skull/skull. so/soul. spider/spider. spirit/spirit. spook/spook. spooky/spooky. static/static. sweet/sweet. tale/tale. thrill/thriller. tomb/tomb. treat/treat. tri/trick. trick/treat. trick/trick. trickster/trickster. vamp/vamp. vamp/vampire. vampire/vampire. venom/venom. voi/void. web/web. werewolf/werewolf. witch/witch. wolf/wolf. zomb/zomb. zombie/zombie. ⚰️. 🍁. 🍂. 🍫. 🍬. 🍭. 🎃. 👻. 💀. 💚. 💜. 🕯. 🕷. 🕷️. 🕸. 🖤. 🦇. 🦴. 🧡.

[starmieknight]

Stars Align

Headhunters Pt. 1

17 Again AU: After a disastrous first day with the twins, Stan swears to do better as an uncle. But fate loves playing tricks on him and the magic 8-ball in the attic is more than it seems.

Now on top of having a pair of twelve year olds around the house while he tries to finish the portal and bring his brother home, Stan has to deal with being back in his seventeen year old body! Summer has never been weirder in Gravity Falls.

AO3 link

Concept Art

Legend of the Gobblewonker (Art)

Prologue, The Legend of the Gobblewonker (previous), Headhunters Pt. 1, Headhunters Pt. 2, Headhunters Pt. 3, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel Pt. 1

It was only with mild surprise that Stan woke up young again. 

Gravity Falls weirdness wass unreliable on any given day.  The state he was in didn't seem to be going away anytime soon. 

So Stan grits his teeth and heads downstairs to make breakfast anyway. This is still fine. He was still fine. 

He can't afford to keep the Shack closed another day, so he improvises his usual look a bit. The jacket stays even if it's a bit big on him and the shoulders aren't as filled out as they normally are. But he doesn't have to shove himself into the girdle and counts that as a win. Beneath the jacket he dons a plain white T-shirt and a pair of old jeans from the back of the closet. 

They might have been Ford's at one time, though they seem kinda small...

Mabel calls his outfit 'hipster-business casual' when she sees him and he has no idea what that means.

Wendy is off work that day, leaving him without a teen-speak translator.

Absent-mindedly, Stan wonders if she'd caught sight of him yesterday at the lake. 

Hopefully, she hadn't and the weirdness will be gone in the morning. 

In all, the day turns out pretty uneventful ― aside from a few tourists giving him extra tips after tours. 

They thought it was adorable that he was so interested in the 'family business' and laughed when he claimed he was well into his fifties. 

Not with that baby face, they'd say.

Fine ― if they wanted to throw more money at him, he wouldn't complain. 

Before long, the day is done and Stan eagerly shucks the blazer and his jeans in favor of boxers and a T-shirt.  

He avoids the mirror, memories of Glass Shard Beach plaguing his every step. 

He swears he can hear his mother on the other side of the wall, schmoozing some schmuck over the phone. Sees his father glaring at him from the corner of his eye. 

Feels the phantom hands of his brothers on the stairs, Shermie's large and powerful on his shoulder while Ford tugs at his sleeve more hesitantly.

Stan shudders and leans against the hallway wall, squeezing his eyes shut against the memories. 

He breathes deep and carries on, planning on joining the twins downstairs when the scent of dust and wax catches his attention.  

A long-forgotten door beckons to him from down the hall, filled with waxy faces of celebrities and fictional characters.

Huh, he'd forgotten all about these guys.

Outside, he can hear Soos and the kids coming and can't resist the set-up for a good prank.

Having to hide in a dark, dusty room for a chance at a jump scare is worth it.

Stan cackles at the twins' screams before bundling them up in a bear hug.

"It's just me!" he crows joyfully. "Your Grunkle Stan!"

They scream once more out of reflex before settling down.

"Grunkle Stan, what is this place?" Mabel asked, flopping over his arm to stare upside down at the displays. 

Dipper wriggles in his grasp, in danger of being dropped, before Stan sets them back on their feet.

"Behold ― the Gravity Falls Wax Museum!" Stan declares, proudly spreading his arms and spinning on his heel. A born showman even as a young man. "It was one of my most popular attractions... before I forgot all about it." 

More like got creeped out by the things and hid them away so he didn't have to look at them anymore. 

Like Ford's old room.  

The loss of wax Abraham Lincoln makes him pout and whine, but Mabel is quick to offer a solution.

It's amazing to watch the kid work through the night, but when she refuses to stop and sleep, Stan puts his foot down.

He manages to get some food in her and gets her to take a nap, but the girl is too much like Ford to stay down for long. She'll be up soon and Stan will have his hands full.

------------------------

The next morning was... interesting.

This time, when Stan woke up as a teenager, he didn't question it and went about his business. Mabel was still passed out on the couch in the living room, fingers sticky with wax and glitter as she took a small break from her work. Stan puts her pancakes in the microwave and eats a quiet breakfast with Dipper, both of them too out of it to form proper conversation.

Stan didn't know if it was a side-effect of being a teenager again, but it was incredibly difficult to wake up before noon. His mind felt like it was running on empty until the sun reached its peak in the sky. On the other hand, it was easier to stay up at night. It'd work out in his favor when he got his hands on Dipper's journal. Whenever he could swing that.

The kid had it hidden well and never left it laying around in the Shack.

Stan could feel that the answers to getting his brother back were closer than ever and the set-back of keeping it secret at the same time was almost too frustrating to bear.

He huffed to himself and slumped down onto the couch outside, half dressed in his usual attire. The summer morning was turning out to be a hot one and he was already sweaty enough. The jacket stayed off, draped over the arm of the couch and in-reach in case a tour bus suddenly appeared. 

A rustling around the side of the porch had him tensing instinctively, too many years on the streets and in nasty situations to let him relax for long. Even using his twin's identity didn't keep him safe from everyone after him. And with this face, it’d be even harder to keep convincing people he was the real Stanford Pines.

Stan slipped his hand into his jeans pocket, fingers sliding into his brass knuckles. Even in this body, they fit like a glove, the only consistent part of his life from the past 40 years. The knuckles had come with him from New Jersey, the one thing he'd ever chanced lifting out of his old man's shop.

The thought of Filbrick finding out that Stan stole from him was still a chilling one.

Stan positioned himself to watch the side of the porch as casually as he could, muscles lax in preparation to move whatever direction he needed to.

It probably wasn't the kids ― they were naturally noisy. So was Soos. The only other person who'd be hanging around the Shack was...

"Who are you?"

Wendy.

The girl really was cool as ice, merely raising a curious brow as Stan explained his plight.

"That's some freaky shit, man." She said finally, dropping onto the couch beside him instead of heading inside. The slacker. "But you've still got your memories, right? You're not just, like, mini-Stan Pines from 1940 or whatever?"

Stan pinned her with an irritated look. "How old do you think I am? You kids have no idea how age works."

"So?"

"And stop swearing! The kids are around here somewhere."

"They'll hear worse in high school."

"Yeah, but I ain't gonna have them go home talkin' like that and have their parents come up here to murder me."

"Would they even recognize you like that?"

Stan grew quiet, his brow furrowing as he stared into the treeline.

No, they wouldn't.

The last time he'd seen his nephew as himself and not using Ford's name had been back in 1972. Back when he really was seventeen.

Alex had been a baby back then, wailing in his grandmother's arms as Filbrick threw Stan into the street. He'd never known an uncle aside from Ford.

Or, at least, the man he thought was Ford. Alex had visited once when the Shack was still the Murder Hut. They'd spent the month fishing and riding the backroads through town, Stan teaching the kid how to drive and use bad pickup lines on girls.

It'd been the highlight of his thirties. He'd hoped it would be the same when the twins came down to visit.

It was turning out to just be weird.

"I'm sorry, man." Wendy said suddenly, drawing Stan out of his memories about a freckle faced kid with too many freckles to count.

"It's fine, kid." He sighed, rising to his feet and sliding on his jacket. "Go on and get to work. We've got customers to rip off."

Wendy hummed in agreement, her eyes sharp beneath their lazy lids. She held her tongue, though, and he was grateful for that much.

Mabel was missing from the couch when they came in, a nest of blankets the only indication that she'd ever been there.

"Kids?" He called, moving into the parlor. "Where'd you― GAH!!"

By some miracle, Stanford was standing in front of him. The twins and Soos crowded him, only that familiar face visible over the kids’ heads and grinning at him.

Which was weird.

Even when Ford smiled, he never looked like that. And he certainly wouldn't smile at Stanley.

"Grunkle Stan!" Mabel cheered, dripping glitter onto the hardwood. "What do you think of my masterpiece? I thought about recreating this new, young you ― but that would have been pretty confusing for the customers. Like a waxy twin!"

A waxy twin.

That's all it was.

Ford was still trapped on the other side of the portal, likely hurt and resenting Stan.

"Grunkle Stan? Are you... alright?"

Dipper crouched down next to him, brow furrowed in concern. 

Stan sucked in a deep breath, vaguely acknowledging that he'd stopped breathing at the sight of what he'd thought was his brother. It wasn't Ford. Just a wax figure.

And the twins were looking at him strangely now. Time to redirect.

"Can a teenager have a heart attack?" He asked seriously before pasting on a cheesy grin. "Because that hunk is making my heart do flips!"

The twins laughed, the tension breaking as Soos helped Stan back up. It was strange how easily the handyman could lift him now, like he weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. And he handled him so gently. Like a child!

Stan remembered when Soos was the child, all chubby cheeks and wide eyes as he followed him around the Shack. Like a little baby duck.

He'd been a pretty cute kid, honestly. 

Ugh. Being young again was turning him into a sap. 

He needed to change the subject and Wax Stan had just given him the perfect idea.

"Kids," he grinned eagerly as he drew them near. Mabel had a light shining in her eye, apparently on the same wavelength as him. Dipper looked more skeptical. "The Wax Museum is back in business!”

[willstafford]

A Thing of Beauty

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST Gatehouse Theatre, Stafford, Tuesday 12th December 2023 Beauty and the Beast has increased in popularity as a pantomime since the 1991 release of Disney’s animated feature film and, inevitably, audience perceptions and expectations will be coloured by the pervasiveness of that version.  Of course, for copyright reasons at least, there have to be differences in any…

[by-wronged-hands]

HIHI I saw you write for gravity falls :) I was wondering if we can get something with Grunkle Stan?? Maybe a NB reader? :0

Night of the Undead

( Stanley x GN Reader )

TW: A bit of angst

A/N: I apologize for taking so long, but I hope you enjoy it! I really like this episode, and Stan looks undeniably good.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, Stan’s head balanced as he tried to stay awake. You helped him stumble his way to the bed, after he once more fell asleep in the office.

Lately, organising the income of the Mystery Shack turned into a nightmare. Firstly, he tried with Wendy…of course, she failed in her task. Unfortunately, he then tried with Mabel, which went worse than expected. Abraham Lincoln did not enjoy glitter over his face.

After staying up night after night, he became cranky during the day. Fights would spark out of the blue, and you’d calmly end them. Usually, you could remind yourself that he was simply exhausted. Other days, it was considerably harder. For example, today.

You began to recall every time he simply exploded. Not once, nor twice, nor thrice.

Each time, he simply shut his mouth quickly and then turned around. Storming out of the room was not the best way to stop a fight, but at least it worked…you simply accepted it. You felt hurt, of course, but you didn’t wish to be another problem for Stan.

Tonight, when you curled up in bed, it was cold. The sheets were smooth, not a single wrinkle. You missed his face, his skin over yours and his warmth. The bed felt too big without him, merely empty. You waited for him, but then one hour went by, and then two.

Shivering, your legs moved across the Mystery Shack. Searching him in the place you knew he’d be, you pushed open the door. Turning the knob slowly, so as to not disturb him. Lucky enough, Stan was just staring at a myriad of dollars. Not doing much other than looking rather tired.

That’s how you ended up having to assist him to bed. But you did not mind much—you would do far more to be able to snuggle between his arms into his chest during those freezing times of the day. But nothing mattered anymore. The fights didn’t exist any longer, every scream, every hostile look. You began slipping into sleep while listening to his heartbeat, holding him close and tight.

The sudden burst of a sunbeam awoke you hours later, but for your liking, Stan’s voice was the first thing you heard.

“Today, it’ll be different. I promise,” raspy and deep, it made you blush, “the party will go well.”

Immediately, the word party alarms you slightly.

“What—what party?” Foolishly, you asked.

Stan chuckled in response, and as his face approached yours, you stopped caring. His lips were placed, and his hands softly held your face.

“The grand re-opening for the shack, remember?”

He then proceeded to unwrap his arms around you, and stretch lazily. Dragging his legs out of the sheets, his expression remained fixed upon the door. You were curious why he looked exhausted, even after sleeping in for two hours more…

“C’mon, get up,” the man pulled your arm along with your whole body, “we have to prepare everything”.

And, as he just had stated, Stan did not waste a single second. Cleaning, rearranging, and buying food. Of course he did none of these, he was too busy with money. You began feeling fed up with it, yet you bottled it up. After all, there was not much to do—Stan only wished to keep proper order within the shack for the first time in ages.

You took upon yourself to clean, meanwhile the twins decorated everything. Well, Mabel did. Dipper was a bit too distracted with Wendy, but you couldn’t do anything but look at the painful, embarrassing conversations between them.

Couple of swipes and shiny stars after, the Mystery Shack was finally ready. And, as the sun set, you began admiring how quickly people filled up the empty space.

Still, something nagged you. Something was ticking you off, and there was no way you could enjoy the party without figuring it out. But as you investigated, the only unusual things you found were empty chairs. Except, Wendy and Dipper were supposed to stay sited all night long in those chairs. Leaving the lonely table, you wandered around. In an attempt to catch a glimpse of the two teenagers, you stumbled upon an outside window to Stan’s room.

Standing near it, you crouched near the floor. What if Stan was there? What was he doing? …is it weird to be spying on your partner?

You allowed your curious mind a peek. But, to your surprise, the only interesting thing within were the two teens you had initially been searching. Although Stan was there, his frown indicated anger. Yelling confirmed your suspicions, as well as Dipper sprinting through the door. Wendy looked remorseful, but there was nothing to be done.

Stan’s eyes travelled to the window, and your eyes met his. As for now, luck was not on your side.

He seemed displeased, and to worsen the situation furthermore, his sigh was your last straw. This morning, he promised a thing, and in a matter of hours, he had thrown it all away.

You stopped crouching down, and simply stood up. Slowly walking backwards to where you came from, his nostrils widened with fury. As his mouth you once kissed twisted, your heart begged you to run. And, so you did.

At this, Stan realised his mistake. Though, it was far too late.

Knees against your chest, and back against a tree trunk, you hid away. Unable to process your own thoughts, breathing became harder. The party loudly roared in the distance, but nothing could bring you back inside.

The night turned suddenly darker, and a goosebump crawled over you. The moonlight shined through your lids, and forced your eyes open. That same feeling, something was wrong again. Though, that time, you wished it had been Stan’s attitude…

From beneath the ground, a filthy, thin hand reached to the sky. Landing around your ankle, your instincts help you kick it off your skin. Moments later, dozens if not hundreds more began digging themselves up. Catching a few breaths of the cold night air, the undead desperately struggled through.

Soon enough, an odour drove them deep into madness. Flesh, fresh and warm. Jumping to your feet, you sprinted through the infinite trees. The further you went, the worse it looked.

Finally, you stood in front of the Mystery Shack. A gruesome scene unfolded before your very own eyes. A dreadful scream helped you snap out.

The twins were trapped upstairs, and judging by their frightened expressions, neither of them knew how to stay alive. Neither did you, but you would do anything it took to keep those kids alive. So you ran, and nothing could stop you.

Entering the house, and sailing your way through the rotting bodies drenched in dirt, you reached the stairs. Staring down at your ripped clothing, you thought of Stan. You thought of how badly his suit must look now. You thought of his messy hair, and manic eyes. His trembling hands, or the cold sweat dancing down his throat.

As you let down your guard, the undead begin to notice. Mercilessly, they launch at you. With all their might and hunger, they reach for you. Looking at what seemed to be the ending, your arms covered your face in terror.

One second later, then two, nothing had happened, except the strange sound of a punch…

This time, Stan was not late. He was right there, ripped suit, messy hair, manic eyes, and sweaty skin. Yet, his fists were firm. Not a single tremble, you noticed anything but an ounce of doubt.

“Go! Get the twins!” He shouted, between grunts of effort.

“I will not leave you,” you yelled back.

“Do you trust me?” And, of course, you answered yes.

“Then, go upstairs and wait for me…NOW!” Following his orders, you turned around and followed Mabel and Dipper’s screams.

It only took Stan a few minutes to reunite with you. You could not hold yourself from wrapping your arms around his chest. Holding his face down for a kiss, you forgot about every frown those lips had ever given you. His mouth tasted like rum, and his cheeks were reddish.

“Hey, we get it, both just forgave each other but let’s leave the kisses for after the apocalypse.” Spoke Mabel, with those abominable creatures in mind. You looked at Stan, and he looked back, but no more did his eyes show hate.

One pop song later, the undead’s brains were everywhere. It was a horrifying mess, but the twins and Stan were still perfectly fine. With a few wounds, but nothing serious.

Gazing down at the grass tinted with crimson blood, a pair of hands pulled you closer. Stan’s lips felt welcoming, and the alcohol in them eased your worries.

The twins looked at you both; Dipper seemed uncomfortable, Mabel snatched a photo for her album.

It for sure was a night you would never forget, but now, the only thing you wished to do was drink and kiss away every sense, combing your fingers through his soft hair.

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

I saw it's GB day, so have some teens!

My names are: #1 Nathalie Uno (Don't call her Natty) #2 Hadley P. Gilligan Jr. (I just like the name) #3 Kouki Sanban (It's real look it up) #4 Wendy Beetles (Again, love it) #5 Abraham Lincoln (Because c'mon... Abby's name is too obvious)

[glowing-disciple]

Reading List - 2024

Currently Reading:

The Book of Dragons by Edith Nesbit

Peter and Wendy by J. M. Barrie

Sweet Sweet Revenge LTD by Jonas Jonasson

Books Read:

101 Famous Poems by Various Authors

The Abraham Lincoln Joke Book by Beatrice Schenk De Regniers

The Ancient Aliens Question by Philip Coppens

The Art of Computer Designing by Osamu Sato

The Broken Dice, and Other Mathematical Tales of Chance by Ivar Ekeland

The Cairngorms by Patrick Baker

The Codebreaker's Handbook by Herbie Brennan

The Color Kittens by Margaret Wise Brown

The Complete Book of Kitchen Collecting by Barbera E. Mauzy

Dinosaurs, Beware! A Safety Guide by Marc Brown

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Dreaming the Biosphere by Rebecca Reider

Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

Frog and Toad are Friends by Arnold Lobel

Funny Number Tricks by Rose Wyler

Gender Queer: A Memoir by Maia Kobabe

Giant Sea Creatures, Real and Fantastic by John Frederick Waters

Great Mysteries of the Ice and Snow by Edward F. Dolan

Hammer of the Gods by Stephen Davis

Hiram's Red Shirt by Mabel Watts

A History of Chess by Jerzy Gizycki

I don't care by JoAnn Nelson

An Introduction to Linguistics by Loreto Todd

Jaws by Peter Benchley

Jungian Archetypes: Jung, Gödel, and the History of Archetypes by Robin Robertson

Keeper of the Bees by Gene Stratton-Porter

MASH: An Army Surgeon in Korea by Otto F. Apel

The Messier Objects Field Guide by Stephen James O'Meara

Out of the Silent Planet by C. S. Lewis

Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices by Thomas Brooks

Reflections on Evolution by Fredrick Sproull

Roadie: My Life on the Road with Coldplay by Matt McGinn

Some of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood of Great Renown in Nottinghamshire by Howard Pyle

Strange Creatures of the Ice and Snow by Edward F. Dolan

Time for Bed, Sleepyheads by Normand Chartier

Weird Islands by Jean de Boschère

Future Reading:

A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton-Porter

Adventures in Cryptozoology Vol. 1 by Richard Freeman

All the King's Men by Robert Penn Warren

Always Running by Luis J. Rodriguez

Ancient Mysteries, Modern Visions by Philip S. Callahan

The Anti-Mary Exposed by Carrie Gress

The Arm of the Starfish by Madeleine L'Engle

The Art Nouveau Style by Stephan Tschudi Madsen

As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

Black Beauty by Anna Sewell

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Champions of the Rosary by Donald H. Calloway

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Complete Works of H. P. Lovecraft

Cubism by Guillaume Apollinaire

Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary

Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

Equal Rites by Terry Pratchett

Evolution by Nowell Stebbing

Expressionism by Ashley Bassie

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

Fearsome Creatures of the Lumberwoods by Hal Johnson

Found in a Bookshop by Stephanie Butland

Frankenstein by Mary Shelly

Freaks on the Fells by R. M. Ballantyne

Freckles by Gene Stratton-Porter

Fundamentals of Character Design by Various Authors

Graceling by Kristin Cashore

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The History of Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miquel de Cervantes Saavedra

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

Humorous Ghost Stories by Various Authors

I, Robot by Isaac Asimov

Illuminated Manuscripts by Tamara Woronowa

The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

Joan Miro by Joan Miro

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

Light of the Western Stars by Zane Grey

Living by the Sword by Eric Demski

The Longest Cocktail Party by Richard DiLello

Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis

North and South by Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell

Otis Spofford by Beverly Clearly

The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster

The Shining by Stephen King

The Silmarillion by J R R Tolkien

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Strange Love by Ann Aguirre

The River by Gary Paulsen

Things My Son Needs to Know About the World by Fredrik Backman

The Third Man Factor by John Geiger

The Time Machine by H. G. Wells

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson

The War of the Worlds by H. G. Wells

We Are Where the Nightmares Go and Other Stories by C. Robert Cargill

The Weiser Field Guide to Cryptozoology by Deena West Budd

The White Mountains by John Christopher

[wankerwatch]

Commons Vote

On: Passenger Railway Services Bill (Public Ownership) Bill: Committee: Amendment 14

Ayes: 111 (95.5% Con, 4.5% DUP) Noes: 362 (97.0% Lab, 2.5% Ind, 0.6% SDLP) Absent: ~177

Day's business papers: 2024-9-3

Likely Referenced Bill: Passenger Railway Services (Public Ownership) Bill

Description: A Bill to make provision for passenger railway services to be provided by public sector companies instead of by means of franchises.

Originating house: Commons Current house: Commons Bill Stage: 3rd reading

Individual Votes:

Ayes

Conservative (106 votes)

Alan Mak Alberto Costa Alex Burghart Alicia Kearns Alison Griffiths Andrew Bowie Andrew Murrison Andrew Rosindell Andrew Snowden Aphra Brandreth Ashley Fox Ben Obese-Jecty Ben Spencer Bernard Jenkin Blake Stephenson Bob Blackman Bradley Thomas Caroline Dinenage Caroline Johnson Charlie Dewhirst Chris Philp Claire Coutinho Damian Hinds Danny Kruger David Davis David Mundell David Reed David Simmonds Desmond Swayne Edward Argar Edward Leigh Gagan Mohindra Gareth Bacon Gareth Davies Gavin Williamson Geoffrey Cox George Freeman Greg Smith Gregory Stafford Harriet Cross Harriett Baldwin Helen Whately Iain Duncan Smith Jack Rankin James Cartlidge James Cleverly James Wild Jeremy Hunt Jeremy Wright Jerome Mayhew Jesse Norman Joe Robertson John Cooper John Glen John Hayes John Lamont John Whittingdale Joy Morrissey Julia Lopez Julian Lewis Karen Bradley Katie Lam Kemi Badenoch Kevin Hollinrake Kieran Mullan Kit Malthouse Laura Trott Lewis Cocking Lincoln Jopp Louie French Mark Francois Mark Garnier Mark Pritchard Martin Vickers Matt Vickers Mel Stride Mike Wood Mims Davies Neil Hudson Neil O'Brien Neil Shastri-Hurst Nick Timothy Nigel Huddleston Oliver Dowden Patrick Spencer Peter Bedford Peter Fortune Priti Patel Rebecca Harris Rebecca Paul Rebecca Smith Richard Fuller Richard Holden Robbie Moore Robert Jenrick Saqib Bhatti Sarah Bool Shivani Raja Simon Hoare Steve Barclay Stuart Anderson Stuart Andrew Suella Braverman Tom Tugendhat Victoria Atkins Wendy Morton

Democratic Unionist Party (5 votes)

Carla Lockhart Gavin Robinson Gregory Campbell Jim Shannon Sammy Wilson

Noes

Labour (351 votes)

Abena Oppong-Asare Abtisam Mohamed Adam Jogee Adam Thompson Afzal Khan Al Carns Alan Campbell Alan Gemmell Alan Strickland Alex Baker Alex Ballinger Alex Barros-Curtis Alex Davies-Jones Alex Mayer Alex McIntyre Alex Norris Alex Sobel Alice Macdonald Alison Hume Alison McGovern Alistair Strathern Allison Gardner Amanda Hack Amanda Martin Andrew Cooper Andrew Gwynne Andrew Lewin Andrew Pakes Andrew Ranger Andrew Western Andy MacNae Andy McDonald Andy Slaughter Angela Eagle Anna Dixon Anna Gelderd Anna McMorrin Anna Turley Anneliese Dodds Anneliese Midgley Antonia Bance Ashley Dalton Baggy Shanker Bambos Charalambous Barry Gardiner Bayo Alaba Beccy Cooper Becky Gittins Ben Coleman Ben Goldsborough Bill Esterson Blair McDougall Brian Leishman Callum Anderson Calvin Bailey Carolyn Harris Cat Smith Catherine Atkinson Catherine Fookes Catherine McKinnell Catherine West Charlotte Nichols Chi Onwurah Chris Bloore Chris Curtis Chris Elmore Chris Evans Chris Hinchliff Chris Kane Chris McDonald Chris Murray Chris Vince Chris Ward Chris Webb Christian Wakeford Claire Hazelgrove Claire Hughes Clive Betts Clive Efford Clive Lewis Connor Naismith Connor Rand Damien Egan Dan Aldridge Dan Carden Dan Jarvis Dan Norris Dan Tomlinson Daniel Francis Danny Beales Darren Paffey Dave Robertson David Burton-Sampson David Pinto-Duschinsky David Smith David Taylor Dawn Butler Debbie Abrahams Deirdre Costigan Derek Twigg Diana Johnson Douglas Alexander Douglas McAllister Elaine Stewart Ellie Reeves Elsie Blundell Emily Darlington Emily Thornberry Emma Foody Emma Lewell-Buck Euan Stainbank Fabian Hamilton Fleur Anderson Florence Eshalomi Frank McNally Gareth Snell Gareth Thomas Gen Kitchen Gerald Jones Gill Furniss Gill German Gordon McKee Graeme Downie Graham Stringer Grahame Morris Gregor Poynton Gurinder Singh Josan Harpreet Uppal Heidi Alexander Helen Hayes Helena Dollimore Henry Tufnell Ian Lavery Ian Murray Imogen Walker Irene Campbell Jack Abbott Jacob Collier Jade Botterill Jake Richards James Asser James Frith James Naish Janet Daby Jayne Kirkham Jeevun Sandher Jeff Smith Jen Craft Jenny Riddell-Carpenter Jess Asato Jess Phillips Jessica Morden Jessica Toale Jim Dickson Jim McMahon Jo Platt Jo Stevens Jo White Joani Reid Jodie Gosling Joe Morris Joe Powell Johanna Baxter John Grady John Healey John Slinger John Whitby Jon Pearce Jon Trickett Jonathan Brash Jonathan Davies Jonathan Hinder Josh Dean Josh Fenton-Glynn Josh MacAlister Josh Newbury Julia Buckley Julie Minns Juliet Campbell Justin Madders Karin Smyth Karl Turner Kate Osamor Kate Osborne Katie White Katrina Murray Keir Mather Kerry McCarthy Kevin Bonavia Kim Johnson Kim Leadbeater Kirith Entwistle Kirsteen Sullivan Kirsty McNeill Laura Kyrke-Smith Lauren Edwards Lauren Sullivan Laurence Turner Lee Barron Lee Pitcher Leigh Ingham Lewis Atkinson Liam Byrne Liam Conlon Lilian Greenwood Lillian Jones Linsey Farnsworth Liz Kendall Liz Twist Lizzi Collinge Lloyd Hatton Lola McEvoy Louise Haigh Louise Jones Lucy Powell Lucy Rigby Luke Akehurst Luke Charters Luke Murphy Luke Myer Margaret Mullane Marie Tidball Mark Ferguson Mark Hendrick Mark Sewards Mark Tami Markus Campbell-Savours Marsha De Cordova Martin Rhodes Mary Glindon Mary Kelly Foy Matt Bishop Matt Rodda Matt Turmaine Matt Western Matthew Patrick Matthew Pennycook Maureen Burke Meg Hillier Melanie Onn Melanie Ward Miatta Fahnbulleh Michael Payne Michael Shanks Michael Wheeler Michelle Scrogham Michelle Welsh Mike Amesbury Mike Kane Mike Reader Mike Tapp Mohammad Yasin Nadia Whittome Natalie Fleet Natasha Irons Naushabah Khan Navendu Mishra Neil Coyle Neil Duncan-Jordan Nesil Caliskan Nia Griffith Nicholas Dakin Nick Smith Nick Thomas-Symonds Noah Law Oliver Ryan Olivia Bailey Olivia Blake Pam Cox Pamela Nash Pat McFadden Patricia Ferguson Patrick Hurley Paul Davies Paul Foster Paul Waugh Paula Barker Paulette Hamilton Perran Moon Peter Dowd Peter Kyle Peter Lamb Peter Swallow Phil Brickell Polly Billington Preet Kaur Gill Rachael Maskell Rachel Blake Rachel Hopkins Rachel Taylor Richard Baker Richard Quigley Rosie Duffield

Rupa Huq Ruth Cadbury Ruth Jones Sadik Al-Hassan Sally Jameson Sam Carling Sam Rushworth Samantha Dixon Samantha Niblett Sarah Champion Sarah Coombes Sarah Edwards Sarah Hall Sarah Jones Sarah Owen Sarah Sackman Satvir Kaur Scott Arthur Sean Woodcock Seema Malhotra Sharon Hodgson Shaun Davies Simon Lightwood Simon Opher Siobhain McDonagh Sojan Joseph Sonia Kumar Stella Creasy Stephanie Peacock Stephen Kinnock Stephen Timms Steve Race Steve Witherden Steve Yemm Sureena Brackenridge Tahir Ali Taiwo Owatemi Tanmanjeet Singh Dhesi Tim Roca Toby Perkins Tom Collins Tom Hayes Tom Rutland Tonia Antoniazzi Tony Vaughan Torcuil Crichton Torsten Bell Tracy Gilbert Tristan Osborne Uma Kumaran Valerie Vaz Vicky Foxcroft Warinder Juss Wes Streeting Will Stone Yasmin Qureshi Yuan Yang Zubir Ahmed

Independent (9 votes)

Apsana Begum Ayoub Khan Imran Hussain Jeremy Corbyn John McDonnell Rebecca Long Bailey Richard Burgon Shockat Adam Zarah Sultana

Social Democratic & Labour Party (2 votes)

Claire Hanna Colum Eastwood

[walkswithmyfather]

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding. Seek his will in all you do and he will show you which path to take.” —Proverbs 3:5-6

“When my girls were little, my husband liked to toss them up in the air (just a little) and catch them. They would squeal with delight each time they became airborne and then caught safely by the hands of their father. It’s the ultimate picture of trust. My girls didn’t have to question whether or not daddy would catch them. They knew. Daddy always catches you. You can trust him with all your heart.

As a child of God you can trust God with all your heart. Trusting God means not depending on your own understanding. When God called Abraham to leave his country, his relatives and his father’s family, God didn’t tell him where he was going. He just told him to go “to the land that I will show you.” Even though Abraham didn’t know where he was going, he trusted God and didn’t depend on his own understanding.

Some would say Abraham followed God blindly, but Abraham left Ur of the Chaldeans with full knowledge that the God He loved and followed was trustworthy. He knew that if God was going to toss him and his family in the air, He would always catch them. He could trust God with all his heart. He didn’t need to depend on his own understanding.”

—Wendy Richmond