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20thcentutygeek · 10 months ago

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The Creator of Mind MGMT and DEPT. H is Teaming Up With his Mother, Margie Kraft Kindt, for a Brand-New Whodunit Murder Mystery

Bestselling cartoonist Matt Kindt has shattered crowdfunding records with Keanu Reeves on their blockbuster BRZRKR graphic novels. He’s created acclaimed comics with fellow indie comics darlings Jeff Lemire and David Rubín and his talented studio mate, Brian Hurtt. And now the creator of Mind MGMT and Dept. H. has a new and entirely unexpected writing partner: his mother, Margie Kraft Kindt. Together the two Kindts are creating Gilt Frame, an eccentric and electrifying crime thriller starring the most unlikely detective duo in the history of murder mysteries. The 3-issue whodunit will be published at Dark Horse Comics through Flux House, Kindt’s boutique imprint that features crime, science fiction, and humor stories, all told and presented in startling and untraditional ways.

“Although it is a privilege and thrill to collaborate with someone of Matthew’s caliber and of his generation, the real joy and value is personal,” said Margie Kraft Kindt. “What a bonus at this time of life, the gift and pleasure of so many hours and days in the company of a grown-up son, sitting across from each other at our partner table, settling into our chairs as we brainstorm plot twists.Each of us takes on the roles of our characters. I develop the energetic persona of the star of Gilt Frame, the take-charge Meredith Pearson — Aunt Merry to her beloved nephew and best buddy, Sammy — while Matt shoots out dialogue for him. We toss around how they would play off each other — so completely immersed in the exhilarating work we are both passionate about, that every once in a while, we stop and ask each other, ‘Are you getting this down?’”

A classic whodunit that spans the globe from Paris to Hawaii to Montenegro, Gilt Frame stars Sam, an orphan in his early twenties, and his well-off Aunt Merry who has an outsized appetite for antiques, travel, and solving crimes. Sam was adopted by his aunt years ago and together they have solved some of the most notorious murders in the world. Now their latest Parisian adventure is cut short when they stumble upon a murder scene so bizarre that only a raging psychopath could have produced it. To solve this crime, Sam and Merry will have to wrestle with jewel thieves, art-forgers, gun-runners, the century-old ghost of the woman in black, a lost puppy, and a master French detective who just might solve the crime before they do.

“Sam, the young nephew in Gilt Frame, is really the star of the show here,” said Kindt. “The voice of reason who generously gives old Aunt Merry just enough screen time” not to embarrass herself. He’s always looking out for her as they solve a real puzzle of a murder. It’s not a locked room murder mystery. It’s more of an unlocked…UNHINGED murder mystery.”

For over 20 years, Matt Kindt has been writing and illustrating inventive, independent comics that balance action-packed storytelling with a highly personal creative vision, with titles like BRZRKR (with Keanu Reeves), Apache Delivery Service, BANG! Dept. H, Ether, Fear Case, MIND MGMT, Folklords, Revolver, 3 Story, Super Spy, and Pistolwhip. But he’s never had a collaborator quite like this… “While we were working on this book it brought back memories of me when I was ten or so…and Mom constructing pretend “crime scenes” at home for me to solve,” said Matt Kindt. “ Follow the fake bloody footprints to figure out what happened. Pay attention to the broken clock. Why is that door open? That childhood memory actually explains a lot. Very formative. So of course it only makes sense for us to build another crime scene together. Brings me back to my roots and to what writing has always been for me – play. We’re having fun.”

The 64-page giant-sized Gilt Frame #1 is due out in comic shops on August 7, and advance copies will be available for sale at the Dark Horse Comics booth at San Diego Comic-Con. Follow Dark Horse Comics on social media for more news, announcements, and updates.

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streetslost · 2 years ago

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CAT ON THANKSGIVING AND CHRISTMAS

for cat on the streets, i’m making this one post because she tends to view both holidays pretty similarly due to her circumstance. i’ll do separate thoughts for cat with scott ( in a home ) later but gunna start with this mishmash of thoughts i’ve been meaning to get to for a while.

cat grows bitter and resentful of the holidays. even despite the chance at help, the free food and clothes she often can get from organizations... the assistance stops feeling like generosity and more like a separation. while people are celebrating, together, warm, and shining in the light, she feels like a being left behind in the darkness, things tossed at her to appease her. to make themselves feel better. she never developed a strong love for either holiday due to the fact her aunt and uncle never made much out of them. presents were given, but were generally only one or two and contained socks or other things sarah needed but wouldn’t have put on her christmas list. they never really met up with family, robert was estranged from his and mary’s parents had already passed. there were no siblings, no cousins... no big meals nor decorations. mary put up a few things she had had but otherwise things were empty and hollow. sarah never asked why, because she had always been told it was money issues anyways. her uncle had no interest in holidays while living in a crappy apartment and dealing with a “daughter” he had no care for. mary kept things simple and would acknowledge the days, but things were mostly strained. she fought with robert often around these times, because she wanted some form of celebration, but wasn’t given anything other than a drunken man who would leave for a while, squandering money on things he shouldn’t. these sorts of behaviors persisting are why she and robert do divorce some time after the confrontation in juvie. however, this doesn’t help cat, who has grown antagonistic to the lights and the smells and the cheer. she isn’t the sort to get bitter in pronounced ways. she doesn’t knock over displays or rip down lights or shatter speakers when christmas songs come on. she just... watches. with anger. with sadness. and she ignores many of the attempts by people during this time. holiday spirit is a sham. it lasts for a short bit so people can feel better about themselves, but it ends. once christmas is done, the lights are ripped down, the smiles are replaced with avoidance, it’s back to being seen as a burden to society, to people... thanksgiving has one good memory for her. margie and her stole pies from the grocery store. they got fint and tinderbox and a handful of other people they tolerated and enjoyed their treats together, away from the prying eyes of copper, crackshot, birdie, and co. for a moment, cat understood what thanksgiving meant. they were alive, they weren’t alone, and maybe there was a group of people that did like her. juvie erased that... but sometimes she thinks of that moment and wonders if there will ever be another moment to enjoy these holidays. to feel thankful, to try fun foods, to sit with people she likes, and to believe for a moment... she’ll be okay.

#&&. headcanon ( a closed heart makes a poor story )

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barkspawn · 2 years ago

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The Sound of Silence

Prologue: Albert and Amelia

I'm in the midst of writing a Stardew Valley fanfic. I have the link to the Ao3 on another post and below as well. It's been so long since I've written or RP'd. However, I started playing SDV and a certain man and his frogs got me feelin' creative. I am DYING because I am having so much fun writing this and writing little books to @sheacrowley when it comes to ideas. She's the real MVP.

Please give me all of the constructive criticism your heart desires. Or praise, that feels nice too.

The Sound of Silence is a SebastianxFarmer fic with a sprinkle of the other bachelors bc I feel like they're all a lil flirty when you get their hearts up, so everyone is into the farmer (for the most part).

CW: Domestic Violence, Depression, Anxiety, intrusive thoughts, self-depreciation, minor and major injury, self-harm (maybe), drinking and smoking cigarettes. NOTE: These will be updated as the chapters are written

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Amelia Rowe needed to get out of Joja and her relationship.

After an argument, something clicked and she made her escape to the farm that her grandfather left behind close to 20 years ago. She made fast friends with the town doctor and the local goofball, and she was seemingly tolerated by his broody (unfairly attractive) best friend.

Will she be able to start fresh without her past ruining everything? Will she be able to put it all behind her or will she be unable to keep the dark thoughts under control?

****** The prologue can be skipped - it is all backstory and, while helpful, it will not make or break the story. Ao3 link at end*****

Albert Rowe (affectionately called Pop) renamed the farm Stardop Fields after 50 years because he found one of the strange fruit after making it deep into the mines in his search for ore. Upon tasting it, his mind was engulfed in the thoughts of his late wife, Margie.

Previously, Pop worked in a steel mill off on the east coast by the Chesapeake Bay. He grew tired of his life there, the danger and overworking weighing heavily on his soul and his health. He gathered every penny of his savings and bought a plot of land in the Ferngill Republic, quickly falling in love with the life of farming. Soon after, he pursued the heart of Margie (despite the initial reluctance on her part).

Al was 24 when he moved to Stardew Valley and married Margie after just 6 seasons of living there. They were married for 49 years before Margie suffered a stroke and passed away. He quickly took to art in his spare time, drawing and painting anything that took his interest. He loved to draw self-portraits and ads (whether parodies or realistic) for some of his favorite products. He even won a small bit of gold in a contest for a shaving company. Naturally, he had that portrait framed.

Together, they raised two children, both girls that were raised in a home full of love and hard work. Amelia’s mother, Joy, was the younger of the two, being 31 when Amelia was born. She has one older sister, Helen. Her aunt, Janet, was 4 years older with two children, Jane and Eliza.

She didn’t talk to her aunt or cousins very often. She got closer to Eliza when Aunt Jane passed away during an unfortunate complication during surgery. Given that her uncle was estranged and committed, Amelia’s mother adopted Eliza, 13, at the time of her Mother’s death. Amelia was 10. Jane, already 24, had gone off on her own, living in another state with her fiancé. Unfortunately, all contact had been lost.

Amelia’s father was nothing short of abusive toward both Amelia and Helen, though he seemed to take out most of his anger on Helen. Joy had been married to Dan for 10 years before he cheated on her with an employee. Joy found the text messages in a second cell phone he bought without her knowing. She endured most of his verbal abuse, and the infidelity was a welcome out from the marriage.

Amelia immediately became depressed, her grandfather having passed only 2 years prior. He was her hero, introducing her to art. She would spend a week or so every summer in Pelican Town, learning the basics of farming. Her favorite moments were when Pop spent time teaching her to draw and paint.

Within just two years after leaving Dan, Joy had ran in to an old friend, soon rekindling an old friendship that turned into a marriage. Charles was an incredible man, quickly taking the father role for Eliza, Helen, and Amelia. They loved him as such, though he was very clear that while he loved the two of them like his own children, he could never replace their biological fathers. He didn’t want them to think he was trying to assume that role, which Amelia found more than admirable. After 5 years, Amelia worked with her mother to go through an official adoption process with him. He was a large, burly man, but he definitely was a softie at heart. He most certainly shed happy tears on that day.

While Amelia grew up battling depression and anxiety, she managed to get it under control during college. She went to a private college, studying both biology and theater as her majors, the latter to her mother’s disapproval. She had dreams of Broadway or going on tour with a travelling theater. Her mother was a doctor in an emergency room, growing to be an inspiration as well. Joy taught her many things about advanced first aid in hopes that she would follow in her footsteps. Amelia wasn’t so dense as to think that acting was a definite for her career, so she pursued biology as a backup. She fully intended to go forward into medical school, but she found herself overwhelmed with the workload and dropped the major altogether.

Because of this decision, she ended up working for Joja Mart after college. She searched for years for ways to join the actor's equity union or ways to be on stage at all. She acted in community theater productions, but after college, they seemed campy an, for lack of a better word, amateur. She found herself cringing at the basic rules of the art being broken as well as craving the professional part of the life. Unfortunately, she fell back into a depression, feeling discouraged and losing all motivation to do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

At 24, she met Kristoff. They hit it off immediately and fell into a whirlwind romance. Before she knew it, she was living with him. It was four years later and she was deeply unhappy, finding herself in a consistent state of feeling numb. She had stopped doing any performing at all. Behind closed doors, Kristoff was controlling. If there was an argument or something went wrong, it was always her to blame. Kristoff was one of the biggest managers in Joja corp, and yet she was still only an assistant manager in a small, grody store on the west side of Zuzu. In public, he was a model boyfriend. After all, appearances were everything.

She moved to Zuzu city with big dreams. She wanted to sing; if not in the theater, then in some way, shape, or form. Kristoff would never let this happen, though he once told her that maybe she could sing at an upcoming Joja event; She hadn’t been that excited in years. As it turns out, it was a way for Kristoff to discourage her enough to give her whole life to Joja as he had. There were many arguments in the time after that. The more bold Amelia got in defending herself, the more angry Kristoff got. The yelling and throwing things led quickly to him slapping her or grabbing her by the arms, an attempt to shake sense in to her by force. Even their sex life grew violent. He never forced anything on her, but it was as if she became a toy: nothing but something to get him off... and he was rough, which Amelia didn't mind at first. He seemed to like how it felt to express his anger in this way, the shocked, almost scared look in her eyes the first time his fingers found her throat quickly becoming his favorite thing. If he wasn't choking her as he fucked her, she was on her knees with a fistful of her hair in his hand and tears brimming in her eyes from the treatment he gave her throat. She often was bruised; the main place often being her hips or waist. She knew how this would look to someone on the outside looking in, but she never did say no. She didn't stop him. She kissed him back for the fraction of a second he allowed that affection. She even begged when he asked her to. He was always so stressed and she loved him, so she didn't mind helping him release that tension. Even if she had to finish on her own. She was just being there for him, right?

She had become complacent.

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Let me know if this formatting works please. I've never posted directly to Tumblr.

Ao3 Link:

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hops-hunny · 4 years ago

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Something I’d Get Used To

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Reader

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 3.4k

Request: anon “Hey could I get a 9 & 21 for nev with a fem reader please fluff/smutt! Thank you!! :)”

Summary: (Y/n) doesn’t do love, but whatever her and Neville have is something she can get used to

Warnings: Slight angst in the beginning but vast majority fluff!

A/N: Hey anon, I decided to go with fluff so I hope you enjoy this! I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you have just as much reading it!

9. “Love’s a word I always hated.”

21. “I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.”

Love. A word that made (Y/n) sick to the very pit of her stomach, and Merlin’s knows not in a good way. (Y/n) was tired of the word love before she even knew what it meant. The word that held so much meaning. The word girls and boys alike waited sometimes their entire life to hear. She was sick of it. She had her parents to thank for that. Growing up, (Y/n)’s parents were always busy with work, leaving her with various different strangers referred to as “nannies”. At first she’d look forward to hearing the words, even reading them. “We love you dear, we’ll be home soon!” Each letter ended with this phrase. She remembered the long days that she’d sit by the front door, waiting for the owl to bring the letters to her. How she’d clutch them to her heart, cheering with glee as she’d read her to whichever nanny they had hired.

However, each time they’d leave they would go for longer and longer, the letters would grow shorter and shorter until eventually they became nonexistent. She felt uncared for, unloved. When her parents got older they started to stay home more opting to work from home. She could still recall the fated conversation that made her hated that stupid little four letter word.

(Y/n) was ecstatic but tried not to show it that much. She knew how much her parents disliked when she would outwardly express obscene amounts of emotion and yet she couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face when they invited her out for dinner. They felt bad for all the important holidays and birthdays they had missed and to make up for it, they decided to take her out for one last grand hoorah before her departure to Hogwarts.

“Mom, dad, can I ask you something?” she asked, playing with her fingers nervously. Although they were her parents, she always felt unsure of how to speak to them. The limited amount of time they had spent together were always cut short, leaving her parents to feel like distant strangers in her life. Her mom looked up from her phone, smiling at the girl.

“Of course dear, what is it?”

“I...I wanted to know why the letters stopped. You know, when you two would travel. You used to send me a postcard and a letter from whatever place you guys were at and eventually they just stopped coming.” She looked up at her parents, biting the inside of her cheek nervously. “Why is that?”

“Letters?” her father started off confused, looking up from his menu briefly before returning his eyes to it. “What lett-”

“Dear let’s stop. Did you want to order drinks too? I’ll get the waiter ov-”

“No mother, let him finish. Go on dad, what do you mean what letters? You guys used to send me them every time you left. How could you not know what letters?” she pleaded desperately, trying to find the answers in her parents eyes.

“Oh right! Those letters.” he said unamused. “Listen kid, you’re old enough now so I guess it’s time we tell you. We weren’t the ones writing those letters, it was your nannies. Do you really think we had the time out of our busy schedules to write you letters? Don’t be ridiculous.” he said, letting out a chuckle. “I don’t see how you didn’t notice that the handwriting was a bit different each time.” His eyes rose quickly from the small words on the menu at the sound of the menu being slammed on the table. (Y/n) stood there with hot angry tears in her eyes, glaring at her parents. No, it wasn’t true, it couldn’t be. They loved her, right? People who love each other don’t lie, her mother had taught her that once. She rose from her spot in the booth, running out the restaurant despite the cries of protest for her to stay.

When she got home, she went into her room pulling the old box that she kept under her bed. She ripped the lid off, pouring the contents onto the bed. “No,” she croaked, tears beginning to form in her eyes again, “No, no, no. Come on. No come on!” she picked up the letters comparing the writing noticing how the writing didn’t match up. “Bullshit! This is bullshit! I can’t believe this!” she screamed, throwing herself on the bed. She sobbed herself to sleep, surrounded by the letters filled with lies. So much for love.

After that incident, (Y/n) opted for staying with her aunt. Her aunt was a few years older than her mom but due to the lax life she lived, she looked a lot younger. She was very grateful that her aunt took her in with such short notice, welcoming her with open arms. She’d write to her often, sending her letters of the adventures she was having at Hogwarts. She would always laugh at the bittersweet way her aunt would sign letters, “Lots of Love, Aunt Margie.”

“Oh come on! Please? It’s just one group date.” Hermione pleaded, chasing down the hallway after her friend. She sat down next to her on the common room couch, smiling at the (y/h/h) girl. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even fall in l-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. That word makes me sick to my stomach.” she said, clutching at her stomach to add emphasis as she made gagging noises. “Love’s a word I’ve always hated.” Hermione looked at her friend sympathetically, patting her leg. Her and Hermione had been friends long before their years at Hogwarts. Her parents were colleagues of her parents but they had lower down positions.

“I know, I know. But you also know I wouldn’t put you with anyone I didn’t think was good enough to be with you. He’s a sweet guy! He loves tending to plants, he’s kind, funny. Sure he’s a little awkward and slouches a bit when he stands but he’s got his own bit of charm!” She said, watching as (Y/n) considered her words. She sighed looking at her.

“Is he at least cute?”

“I knew you’d come around!” Hermione exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her friend tightly. She pulled back, holding her hands in a comforting way. “It is at the end of the week. I decided to tell you ahead of time so on the off chance you’d agree, which you did, you’d have time to back out at any time if you decided you don’t want to go. Well,” she started as she stood up, gathering her things in her hand. “I’ve gotta get going! And to answer your question, I guess you’ll have to see for yourself.”

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(Y/n) snuck through the grass trying to make her way to the greenhouse. Well, as much you could sneak in panda slippers and a nightie. It was about three in the morning and no matter what, she couldn’t sleep. Most nights she had trouble sleeping but it was never this much. “Just my luck. First date I ever agree to and here I am in my fucking pajamas trying to sneak into the greenhouse for a plant that may or may not even be there.” she grumbled, holding her illuminated wand in front of her. She sighed in relief as she finally made her way into the greenhouse.

She found herself pondering whether it would’ve been simpler to just snag some chamomile from Snape’s room instead. “No, don’t be stupid. He would’ve definitely given me some awful punishment, or even worse, let Filch deal with me.” she shuddered at the thought. She looked around the crowded building, looking and searching for the plant. “What the fuck does a chamomile plant even look like?” she muttered. (Y/n) felt herself growing a bit irritated with herself. Years of living with her Aunt Margie had left her spoiled considering Aunt Margie hated tea bags, always opting for making her own blends. If only she had paid attention to her when she was teaching her about plants, that would make this process a whole lot easier.

“Chamomile, chamomile, chamomile. Eh, this looks close enough!” she reached for the pair of scissors in her pocket, leaning forward to cut it before a hand grabbed hers. She screamed, jumping back as she pointed the scissors at the intruder. “What are you doing?!” she questioned, looking up at the boy. He had a blue pajama set on along with a brown pair of moccasins. He quirked a brow, hazel eyes boring into her own.

“I could ask you the same thing. I come here every night and never see you here.” he shuffled awkwardly, taking the scissors from the girl’s grasp. “Did you need something?”

“I was just about to cut a bit of this chamomile here.” She said motioning to the plant. The boy began to laugh some, shaking his head as he walked across the greenhouse. “What’s so funny?”

“That,” he motioned to the plant that she was previously going to cut, “Is not chamomile. If you were looking for something to help with sleep you would’ve been very upset. That’s actually bouncing biltweed. Whoever drinks it, be it through a tea or potion, is left awake for HOURS. It’s a good alternative for coffee drinkers though.” she felt heat rise to her face as she looked away embarrassed, crossing her arms as she mumbled about how she already knew that.

“Why do you know so much about plants anyways. You say you come here every night, why is that?” she questioned, walking over to his side. She watched as he cut at the actual chamomile before walking to a purple plant and cutting some of that as well.

“I love plants. I always used to have this extra energy from how anxious I’d get, so I started tending and caring for plants. After herbology in first year I became hooked. They’re so fascinating.” He looked down at her, flushing slightly. “Usually I don’t come here this late but I couldn’t sleep either. I have something I’m really looking forward to tomorrow and I don’t wanna screw it up.” she nodded, giving him a noise of acknowledgement.

“Yeah, I’ve got something tomorrow to. I wouldn’t say I’m looking forward to it but I am quite concerned about how it’ll all play out.” she sighed, stretching as her eyes floated around the room. Her eyes landed on a kettle and a set of cups around the room. “Well since we’re both in the same boat, how bout we have a cup of tea together, yeah?” she asked, walking to the kettle as she looked back at the boy. She noticed how red he was but chose to ignore it as he gave her a nod.

Although she wasn’t usually a people person, she felt oddly comforted around the boy. He was a bit awkward but sweet nonetheless. (Y/n) hadn’t expected to run into him, let alone spend the next few hours laughing and talking to a guy who’s name she didn’t even know! After a while, their conversation dwindled down to nothing as the effects of the lavender and chamomile took over the both of them. The walked to the castle together before bidding each other goodbye, going their separate ways. She’d never admit it to herself, but she quite liked the boy. He seemed like someone she could be into.

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“Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Hermione huffed, throwing herself onto (Y/n)’s bed as the girl got ready. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, adding a final coat of lip gloss on as she ignored the girl. “You know, for someone who was very reluctant to go on this date, you’re putting a lot of effort into your appearance. I think Neville will appreciate it though." She giggled as the girl began to sprits a light amount of perfume.

"Neville?” ah, so that’s what his name was. “And, if I'm going to be wasting my time then I might as well look good doing it. And besides, I'm ready!" She walked over to the mirror smiling at her appearance. She had on a mossy green oversized sweater totally not stolen from her father that was tucked into the overall shorts that she had cuffed around the legs. On her lower half she adorned a beat up pair of sneakers. She smiled, admiring herself before grabbing her brown leather satchel. Hermione stood next to her friend in the mirror, looking at her own appearance as she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Do you think I look alright?” she questioned, viewing herself from another angle. “Because, you know, I think I look wonderful but do you think Ro-”

“If Ron doesn’t think you look nice then I’ll give him a reason not to be able to see. You look wonderful! You’ve been looking forward to this all week, don’t go beating yourself up. Now,” she grabbed the girl’s hand as they began to head towards the door. “Let’s go show 'em what we’re made of.”

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The world had to be playing a joke on her. There was no other explanation for what was in front of her. No, it couldn’t be him. However, as they neared her suspicions were confirmed. As the others were all communicating, the boy(who she assumed to be Neville) stood awkwardly by himself, chiming in every so often. She could’ve been wrong but as he turned towards her, with rosy red cheeks and wide eyes, she knew most definitely it was him. “Hey! It’s you from last night. Are you Neville?” she questioned, standing in front of him. He had on a brown flannel, a black shirt under it which was untucked from his dark color jeans, quite a contrast from his cute little pajama set from the other night.

“Y-yeah I am! This is for you.” He said, holding out a beautiful hand picked bouquet before continuing, “I-I know it’s a weird combination but I thought it’d be a nice call back from the other night.” she smiled, looking down at the strange but welcome array of chamomile, lavender, and baby’s breath. How cu- thoughtful was that? Her brows shot up in realization.

“Wait, you knew?! Why didn’t you say something?” she exasperated, slapping his shoulder playfully before she threw back her head groaning. “I told you so many embarrassing stories last night.” she facepalmed, looking up at him as he began to laugh some.

“Thought it’d be a funny surprise. The look on your face was priceless!” He said, moving away as he laughed at her failed attempts to hit him. He looked around realizing their group had already gone. “It looks like everyone else already left. Let’s get going, yeah?” he said, holding his hand out to her. (Y/n) looked down at it hesitantly before taking his outstretched hand, goosebumps spreading across her body at the warm contact.

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As they arrived at the quaint little hole in the wall of a restaurant, they realized their small predicament. Hermione smiled, turning towards (Y/n). “Have I ever mentioned how much I lo- care about you?” she cooed sweetly, taking the girl’s (s/c) hands in her own. In return the girl narrowed her eyes looking at her.

“What happened? What do I need to do?” she questioned.

“Well it won’t necessarily be you who has to do something,” she walked back looking at her group of friends, “It appears there’s not enough seats for 5 sets of us so one couple is going to have to take a booth.” (Y/n) looked at her rolling her eyes.

“We’ll do it. Willingly too because if I have to see Harry look at Ginny like that one more time I honestly might end up puking. Come on Nev.” she said, grabbing the giant's hand, leading him to the booth in question. Neville felt his breath hitch and his face flush at the contact, turning to give his friends one last look.

“Don’t bore her to death with all your talk about weeds and plants! I don’t think any girl wants to hear that.” Seamus snickered out, walking away from his friend. However, (Y/n) didn’t hear him, looking up at Neville as she waited for him to sit down. She froze but shortly relaxed as he took a seat across from her instead of next to her.

“I hope we didn’t waste all our good topics yesterday!” she exclaimed looking over at him.

“Surely we haven’t. You know, you never told me what you like to do for fun. Do you have any hobbies?” he asked, looking over the menu as he waited for a response.

“Of course! I’m an artist. Wait a second, I brought my sketchbook, give me one second.” she said, digging into the brown bag that sat next to her. She pulled out a worn down leather notebook, sliding it across the table.

“You brought your sketchbook on a date?” he chuckled, watching as she looked away timidly. “I’m just teasing, love. Plus I knew you drew, I’ve seen you sketching sometime but I’ve never actually seen any of you work,” he flipped it open, gasping at the girl’s art, “But oh wow are you talented! I expected nothing less from you though.”

“To be fair, I brought the sketchbook before I knew it was you I was going on a date with. I thought I’d be stuck with someone boring and uninteresting,” she said, watching as he examined the pages, “But I guess I lucked out, huh?” Now it was Neville’s turn to feel taken. He flushed lightly before reaching over, grabbing her hand.

“Oh? Am I hearing this correctly? Am I being led to believe you’re enjoying your time on this date with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Longbottom.”

The pair continued to talk, not a moment of silence falling upon them. It was going perfectly. Neville let her talk about her hobbies and equally enjoyed talking about his. Not once did either of the two get bored or stop talking...which couldn’t be said about their friend’s at the table across from them. The two began to giggle at the sight of the bored expressions on their faces. “Oh god, how awkward does that look?” she laughed out, watching as one of the girl’s visibly yawned at something Seamus said.

“And to think he tried to give me advice before this. Looks like it should’ve been the other way around.” He said, moving his eyes back to the girl. God she was gorgeous, he couldn’t help but think so. He let his eyes travel down the slope of her nose to the outline of her lips. He was absolutely enamoured by the girl, and had been for a few months. He could never get the words right to say to her and from what he had heard from other guys who confessed, he didn’t think he wanted to. He jumped out of his thoughts as the girl’s face was extremely close to his. (Y/n) began to laugh, sitting back down in her seat.

“T-the look on your face! Oh that was priceless. You practically jumped out of your pants!” she laughed harder, snorting as she bang her fist on the table. After a few seconds, she looked over at the taller boy tilting her head in confusion at his lack of words. “Neville, are you alright?” her eyes looked down as he gripped her hand in his own.

“Listen (Y/n) I know you don’t do love but I just need to say this. I...I like you. I’m absolutely entranced by every part of you and it did start out as physically, I’ll admit but it wouldn’t feel right having you be the only one who didn’t know. I’m smitten with you and everyone knows it.” he spoke softly, looking down at his empty plate on the table. His face flushed as she tilted his head to face her, his expression filled with confusion.

“You’re right. I don’t do love. However,” she tightened her grasp on his hand stroking his cheek, “I think we have the potential to have far more than that. Something greater than lo-love.” Neville’s face was overtaken in shock at the girl’s revelation. (Y/n) smiled before leaning over and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

She may not be the type to do love, but this was definitely something she could get used to.

#neville longbottom x reader #neville x you #neville x reader #neville longbottom x y/n #neville x y/n #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #neville longbottom imagine

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gracelessville · 3 years ago

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Small Town Survival Guide #1: Funerals

When you inevitably receive that phone call that Aunt Margie’s “gone to be with the Lord,” your first thought will probably be of her only child, who your mom’s always referred to as “that bitch Debra” and what inappropriate outfit she’ll pick out for the occasion. Sure, you liked Aunt Margie, but she always left lipstick marks on your face as a child and you’ve been holding a grudge ever since. Best to save your tears for the upcoming mandatory family functions, where you’ll be expected to make a respectable showing of grief for a woman who got you one of those awful, skin-eating spa sets for Christmas every year for the past decade.

Right about now, you’re remembering that your only black dress shrank when you ignored the dry clean only tag. Resist the urge to let this stress you out. After all, it doesn’t matter what you wear, it will always be too short for your grandmother’s taste and too drab for your mother. She’ll take this opportunity to remind you that dark colors make you look sickly and ask why you aren’t wearing any pantyhose. You will end up having to wear those heels that sink into the grass when you walk, and the Spanx you talk yourself into that morning will cut off the circulation in your lady bits. Consider giving the shrunken dress to that bitch Debra. Watch your mother’s head explode if that bitch Debra actually wears it.

Before you can say goodbye to dear Aunt Margie, you’ll have to make it through the viewing. Now, this part of the process used to serve a purpose, but now we double check to make sure that our dead folks are really and truly dead before forking out thousands of dollars to ensure they are properly buried. It stands to reason that they triple check before cremation. The only real difference between a viewing and a visitation is whether or not you’re expected to socialize in the same room as an open casket. And if this is an open-casket situation, be sure to practice saying what a good job the mortician did. And really, practice. This is not the time to let the word lifelike slip. Before you’re allowed to leave, you will be required to entertain at least one gaggle of older ladies who seem to know more about you than you know about yourself. Roughly 95% of the attendees will have known you since before you were born. 53% will have seen you naked, and not in a fun way.

The service itself typically consists of a minimum of three bible verses, two hymns and one inspirational reading. They’ll also read the obituary at the very beginning of the service, even though everyone in attendance over the age of 60 has already read it in the newspaper, clipped it out, and laminated it. Then there’s the eulogy. If you’re a praying person, now’s the time to pray that bitch Debra isn’t responsible for the eulogy. Or that she is, depending on how you’ve placed your pre-funeral bets. Regardless of who does the deed, they will inevitably forget to mention someone important, resulting in an all out, no holds barred family feud. You’ll want to get your bets in on that, too. Take time to notice the flower arrangements. They’ll help cue you in on which football team Aunt Margie pulled for every Saturday. This is important, as you will be expected to participate in the call and response portion of the graveside service.

When you arrive at the cemetery, you’ll know which hole in the ground is the right hole in the ground by searching for the funeral home tent. If there is more than one tent, wait in the car until you see your mom. You’ll take one of those paper fans because that’s just what you do. You’ll keep finding said fan under the passenger seat of your car for the next two years because you feel weirdly guilty about throwing it in the trash. You will not, however, take one of the family seats. The old people around you will insist that you take one of the family seats, even though there are always an odd number and that number is never enough.

Once dearly departed Aunt Margie has been lowered into the ground with one final Roll Tide, make your break towards the parking lot. If you’re lucky enough to make it back to your car before the crowd, you can beat the traffic headed back to that bitch Debra’s house for pimento cheese sandwiches and various casseroles. Avoid eye contact with your mother because she will insist that you come along. Drive towards your nearest fast food joint and order a milkshake and fries.

Because that was Aunt Margie’s favorite snack and she hated pimento cheese.

Find more at gracelessville.com

#funerals #dealing with grief #the south #writing #repost

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peace-coast-island · 3 years ago

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Diary of a Junebug

Starfish in the sand

Collecting seashells is fun! Finding little treasures in the sand is something that never gets old. It's one of the little wonders of nature that keeps on giving.

Seashells are so cool and fascinating to look at. No two are alike and you never know what you'll find in the sand. Once in a while unique shells pop up in the beach, like these golden starfish ones. I don't know how long they'll stick around, so I try to collect a bunch to keep and give as gifts.

Jamie and Nedra have been staying at the camp for a while, enjoying the scenery and activities. It's been a long time since Jamie visited and this is Nedra's first time. A few days later Chrissie, Theda, Jean, and Emma joined us - which was why Jamie and Nedra stuck around.

So we've been having fun collecting seashells and doing craft projects with them. We made jewelry, decorated furniture, painted them, put together gift bags - there's a lot you can do with seashells! It's also nice to just chill and hang out with friends - especially Jean and Nedra as I haven't seen much of them since the entourage disbanded.

Jean's an actress and model with an interesting story regarding her family. Around the same time she joined the entourage, she had reunited with her father, who she hadn't seen in over 20 years. Up until she was around 5 Jean was raised by her mom. After she died, her dad decided to come back into her life and change his ways, abandoning the life of a conman. So he married his longtime partner and adopted Jean in hopes of starting over.

Unfortunately things didn't quite work out. Although Jean and her dad got along well, he fell back into his old schemes by stealing from heiress Agathe Dieudonne when he was going through some financial problems. The heiress forgave him since she took a liking to Jean and offered to send her to a prestigious boarding school in France so she can see the world. When her dad's old ways of living started to catch up with him, he and her stepmom decided to take up Agathe's offer so Jean could have a better life.

Over the years Jean kept in touch with her dad and stepmom through letters. Agathe doted on her like a granddaughter and used her connections to keep an eye on Jean's dad to make sure he was doing okay. Jean became aware of his past when she grew older, and the way she sees it, the conman and her dad are two different people. The fact that he tried his best and was willing to give her up so she could have a better upbringing is more than enough for her.

When she moved back to the states to pursue Broadway, Jean set out to reunite with her dad. It surprisingly wasn't too hard to find him and her stepmom as they happened to live on Peace Coast Island, not too far from where Jean was when she was in the entourage. Since then they've made up for a lot of lost time and Jean makes time in her busy schedule to visit often.

In a few weeks, Jean will be on tour for a show and one of the stops is the island. Coincidentally, Nedra's gonna be touring too and so she'll be performing a few nights at Starlight as well. The two became good friends through Jamie, becoming mentors for a drama program at Starlight Theatre as well as regular performers there for a time. Since the entourage disbanded they became super busy so it's nice that they finally got together for a long overdue meet up.

I told Jean about how Marlo's a huge fan of her and like Nedra, she's down to returning to the camp to meet her. We're still working out the details but Nedra and Jean will coordinate their schedules while I check in with Marlo and Don. It's gonna be fun having them all together!

Things have been the same old in Camellia according to Theda. Chrissie pops in for a visit every now and then, usually to bother Tanner or cause mischief with Lala, Theda, and sometimes Delwyn. It's good to hear that he's been doing much better these days - still, Edvin's absence continues to be a gaping presence.

Theda was right when she said that sooner or later, they'll move on and be okay - but it doesn't change the fact that what's gone is gone. And I fully agree with her.

Chrissie has also been spending a lot of time with Emma and her nieces and nephew, especially now that Emma lives about 15 mins away. She mentioned that Rocky and Lex have their hands full with the babies, which is why she's been bothering other friends. Emma doesn't mind as she's still adjusting to living in Cityburg, a drastic change of scenery after spending most of her life in a moderately sized suburban town.

Emma's doing a lot better since moving out and living with her brother Danny and his kids. She always got along with her mom's side of the family better than her dad's. Her mom's the type of parent who tends to be a bit overly critical of her kids but means well and just wants the best for them. As for Emma's father, he clearly favors her younger brother while putting Emma down for pretty much everything.

What prompted Emma to leave - aside from the threat of getting cut off financially - was something unforgivable her younger brother did. It's a fucking mess and if he keeps this up, I wouldn't be surprised if it ends up destroying him. It also didn't help that their father contributed by adding fuel to the fire.

Basically, the brother's one of those shitty tabloid people who profits out of ruining lives. The incident involved a close friend of Emma's, who died unexpectedly due to illness. The brother, who hated the friend for petty reasons, got a hold of Emma's phone, looked through her texts and took a lot of her conversations with her friend out of context to paint the friend and her family in a bad light.

In short, he turned a bunch of texts into "signs" that the friend was likely murdered by her family. He also revealed private information about the friend and how she was going through a rough time, claiming those as motives for why her family wanted her dead. He also made it look like Emma was the one to bring up the speculation, which the family knows is a load of bullshit. To those who knew the friend, it's clearly a pathetic attempt to ruin someone's name for clout.

As a result of the incident, Emma's mom had enough and kicked the father out, which Emma said was long overdue. As for her younger brother, her mom hasn't disowned him (yet) but she's made it clear how she found what he did despicable. Danny never approved of his stepfather and didn't get along with the youngest, so his reaction to what happened was along the lines of disappointed but not surprised.

Since I last saw Emma, things have improved a lot between her and Margie. Although they're aunt and niece, they've always gotten along more like sisters. While Rusty and Linda took quickly to having their aunt move in, there was some tension with Margie, though it had nothing to do with Emma personally. Margie was forced to grow up quickly after their other dad, Terry, and older sister Sherry, died last year, so things haven't been easy for the family.

With Danny having trouble balancing work and family life and Emma having problems at home, he decided to take her in. Emma says their mom has mixed feelings about it, believing that Danny's giving her an easy way out. If anything, I think Emma's a hard worker, but not in a way a capitalist society approves of it. In other words, capitalism can't profit off someone like her, so it sees her as useless. By living with Danny, an entertainer who not only understands what she's going through, but has also made a successful life for himself and his kids, Emma can freely pursue her creative passions without worries.

Right now, Emma's been working on creating content for her channel, posting journal with me videos and vlogging everyday life. She hopes to open her own sticker shop one day so Daisy Jane's gonna help her with that when the time comes. For now, she wants to focus on developing her art style by experimenting and studying other artists before getting into all that. I'm so excited to see where this will take her!

Chrissie and Theda have been really into making charms so that's what we're gonna do with the tiny seashells. I think the little starfish shells make the prettiest charms, especially on a bracelet. We also have some jewelry wire so I'm thinking of making earrings too. It's been years since I've made earrings so it's good to finally use up those earring hooks.

For the larger seashells, we're thinking of using them to decorate furniture. Theda used a bunch of seashells to decorate an old mirror she found while thrifting with Daisy Jane and it looks sooooo pretty! The decor and the gold paint looks like a vintage picture frame with the starry seashells giving it a sorta celestial vibe. I'm still not sure what to decorate yet but I'm considering one of the old bookshelves that's sitting in storage that has been in need of fixing up for a while.

Emma's been filming footage for her vlogs so I try to do a bit of everything so she can have the full camping experience. So far it's mostly sightseeing, crafting, and chilling with the campers. From what it looks like, Emma's considering splitting the content into two videos - one for seashell crafting and one for sightseeing. I'm flattered that she can get so much out of the camp!

Jean and Nedra find the camp a good spot to unwind from their busy lives. Before meeting up with the others Jean visited her dad and stepmom, who will see her again when she returns to Starlight for opening night. She also said the next time she drops by, she plans to come via plane as she's a pilot, like Chrissie. I think Marlo would die on the spot when she finds out that she would be in a plane flown by Jean Theodora!

Today was a low key day where we wandered around, enjoying the sights and taking it slow. We actually didn't do too much crafting today, which is fine as we tackled a lot of big projects early on so we were kinda running low on shells. So we ended up with a pretty good haul and a bunch of new ideas for craft projects.

No matter how busy or chill the days are, we always find ourselves back at the beach, searching for starfish in the sand.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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hihigherdi · 5 years ago

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Dear Aunt Margie,

You were insistent on having no service to commemorate your death, but I wanted to do something. You grew up in Santa Monica, the ocean was your home except when you’d have to go visit your dad in Cottonwood Arizona in the summers when my mom was passing you by on the bus, likely, on the way to see your mom. You both only got to share one summer together, playing in the waves and warm water like California kids do. A fractured life, fractured love. You held that pain deeply and privately like my mom does. When we saw you, you and my mom always accidentally dressed alike, and it was so funny every time.

You loved strawberry ice cream, so I brought some for us to share. It was a little melted, just like you taught me. (I couldn’t find Haagen-Daz, your favorite brand; I can hear you complaining about these dumb California hippies taking all of the good ice cream away). We’d eat it in your little Santa Monica house; I’d swing on the hammock in your little backyard underneath the orange tree. I was going to bring you an orange too but it looks like someone already did. Those memories are few, I think I might have only been there once or twice? But I remember it like it was yesterday.

You taught little kids for years and years. You learned Spanish because so many of them were from Mexican-decent. You were one of the first teachers to bring animals into your classroom so your kids could take care of something and learn how to love it.

You weren’t really sure about my Uncle Dave. He loved you more - you looked just like Elizabeth Taylor, you could have been with any man, but you chose him. And what a good choice that was, he was one of the kindest, wittiest and most devoted men. The only time I ever thought about being married was when I imagined him walking me down the aisle.

He left before you did which was not pat of your deal. You are likely giving him hell for that.

Thank you both for being my examples of love, kindness and gentleness. For demonstrating the quiet, steady love that two people can have for one another.

These daisies represent how fun and funny you were - and for my mom, you were truly one of the only bright spots in her life, so it seemed like the perfect flower. I gave the ocean one for you, one for Dave, one for your son who took care of you so well, and one for my mom. I love you and those exquisite cheekbones of yours. I can still hear your laugh and your beautiful lilting voice after you said something wryly funny.. I think I got some of my humor from you. Thank you for always remembering my birthday. Thank you for Disneyland. I hope I get fo see you again someday.

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lavieenprose · 5 years ago

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Liana Finck

October 21, 2019

ARTS & CULTURE

The thing about being a woman is you always have to pretend to be interested in characters in books and movies to whom you don’t quite relate. I don’t relate 100 percent to men in suits, or men with guns, or men pining after women, or anguished male artists in paint-splattered pants, or men sailing ships, or men making money. I relate, at best, 74 percent to these men. And then I do the work, make the mental leap, bring myself the extra 26 percent so I can really enter the story.

What I can potentially relate to 100 percent is women. Women in flowing bow ties, women cleaning floors, women chopping wood, women knitting, women leading countries, women wrestling wild animals, women raising kids, women making eyes at men, women making eyes at women, women doing nothing at all. Some of the books and movies I come across are about women, but not enough. It’s fun to read books about people who are different from you, but not if your own story is so excluded that you feel erased.

Are these comics sexist? Sure they are. They depict the female stereotypes of a very sexist, very white Protestant, early sixties American society, where a woman’s highest calling—higher even than cleaning and cooking—is to attract a man by being lovely and pointy-breasted, a light dancer, an easy laugh, supportive of the man in all his pursuits, and fun without being threatening. It’s a stupid, quietly violent thing to tell a woman: that her vocation is to be pleasant to men, and her supreme goal is to be chosen, kept, erased by one reassuringly tall, clean-shaven fellow. But it’s even more of a violent thing to tell a woman indirectly, by not putting her point of view in the book at all. I’ve been told these things indirectly all my life. It’s a relief, in these comics, to hear it said out loud, said to us, so we can make of it what we will. These comics won’t turn you into a sixties housewife. They’ll remind you, with a rush of fairy-tale feeling, that you are an I. With the great power that comes with selfhood, perhaps you’ll be able to identify the sixties housewife living inside you. So you can gently thank her, and let her go.

Here’s my confession: Not only do I not mind Whitney’s romance comics, I love them. I find them touching and empowering and human. The stories are ridiculous. They have a lot of charm and are beautifully crafted, but it’s not hard to see behind the scenes and think, This is a world where everyone is a white American Protestant, and where a woman’s sole value is in her desirability to men. This is propaganda. I will take it with a grain of salt. The romance comics don’t hide their retrograde politics. They make them clear, so you can concentrate on reading, and not expend the usual energy weeding out the sexism cleverly hidden in art and pointing it out to others. I also think, by some miracle, Whitney really understands and empathizes with his female characters—Margie Tucker, the “hopelessly dumb” farm girl with a heart of gold; Nancy Wilson, the pug-nosed scientist; Roxanne Farr, ambitious president of Roxanne Frocks, Inc.; Cindy Lamb, the spunky coed; Meg Foster, the self-abnegating aunt—the way Anton Chekhov and Alfred Hitchcock (who was a terrible person, by the way) do.

By Liana Finck October 21, 2019ARTS & CULTURE

The women in Ogden Whitney’s comics live to find love. If they are distinguished, or distinguishable from one another, it is only in order to offer a different spin on the tried and true form of the romance story. They are vivid characters, but their vividness exists solely to attract the attention of men. Although there are plenty of talented and interesting women in the pages of Whitney’s Return to Romance, clichés still abound: if they know how to cook, that’s good. If they don’t know how to dress, that’s bad. The edgy beatnik character in “Beat Romance” turns out not to be a beatnik after all: she’s a polite, healthy coed, top of her college class—not a threat to the status quo, and therefore deserving of romance.

Our knowledge of Whitney is shadowy. He was born in 1918 in Massachusetts and later lived in the Bronx. At twenty he began working for Detective Comics, Inc., which is now DC Comics, and from there created a number of superheroes, the most famous of which was Herbie Popnecker, a fat, unhappy child who wields a magic lollipop. Whitney drew the romance comics in the early sixties, when New York comic book publishers were trying to use love stories to reach a new audience of teenage girls. Unlike most of the artists drawing romance comics in that period, however, he didn’t use stock plots but likely invented his own; their pacing and interest in social relations, even within the confines of the genre, are part of what make them worth reading today. Whitney’s life was marked by its own romance. By all accounts a lonely, withdrawn man, he married Anne Whitney in 1958 at the age of forty. (She was forty-two.) Their marriage coincided with one of the most fruitful, inventive moments in his career, and when she died in 1970, he is said to have been overtaken by alcoholism and madness.

These comics are fairy tales. They tell you that you’re chosen and precious. It’s true, they tell you, that no one notices how special you are now, but notice is within reach: all you have to do is lose a few pounds, do your hair differently, buy a new dress, and everything will be wonderful. Fairy tales were originally oral histories, told from mother to daughter. A woman, as a daughter learns from her mother, is not a full human being. A woman is a storybook character, like Prince Charming or Santa Claus. She can act only according to certain rules. She lives in fairy tales. Once your mother has told you a fairy tale, the character of the woman lives in you, too. You can’t get her out. She’s tied up with you, but she is not you. We are blessed and cursed to have her, just as we are blessed and cursed to be able to give birth to our own daughters, if we wish, and teach them these lessons, too.

What is a woman? She is all things good and lovely. Often unrecognized, and kept down by forces less incorruptible than herself, she prevails by force of sheer quietness. How, specifically, does she prevail? By winning the man: Prince Charming. Like most of the female characters in great romantic books and films—Philip Roth’s women, Junot Díaz’s women, Haruki Murakami’s women, Wes Anderson’s women, Woody Allen’s women—Prince Charming is alluring but opaque. A love object. How delicious and rare for a man to be seen in this way. For a woman to be the one watching him. Even if, ostensibly, according to the story, she’s only watching him watch her. Astrid Franklin, in the title story—who loses her dreamy husband by neglecting her looks and wins him back by changing her hair style and clothes, losing weight, and putting on makeup—is one-dimensional. But her feelings—low-level depression, then devastating loss, then blinding realization, and then triumph—are all the more relatable for it, and so gratifying. And there is so much pleasure in a happy ending: Astrid Franklin wants only one thing from life, and her wish is granted.

Fairy tales are a twisted thing. Femininity is a twisted thing. It’s a kind of religion. As for Prince Charming, I will never have him, and I don’t want him. But don’t make me give up my longing for him. Tell me about it again and again. Tell me fairy tales the rest of my life.

#liana finck

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farsight-the-char · 2 years ago

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Margie is back with us for a week.

Fun times.

Still a dumb Labrador.

...

Margie's owners (my aunt and uncle) are doing one last little outing to Whistler with their grandson before school starts again.

#personal post #margie #she is much more Dog then pheebee #pheebee likes attention but margie will climb on you if given the chance

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bosesmikas · 2 years ago

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Full name: Oakland John Kelso

Nicknames: ‘Oakley’ 'Oak' (by everyone), 'dude' 'little bro' 'mama’s boy' (by Jay and Betsy), 'dude' 'bro' ‘Oaky’ (by Maddie), 'Little boy', 'baby fa**ot' (by Ryland)

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Gay

Birth Place: Los Angeles, California

Birthday: February 12, 1981 (age 42)

Age: 14 (season 1-3), 14-15 (season 3-5), 15-16 (season 5-6), 16 (season 6-7), 16-17 (season 8)

Occupation: High School Student

Family: Michael Kelso (father), Brooke Rockwell (mother), Betsy Kelso (older sister), Jay Kelso (older brother), Carolyn Rockwell (maternal grandmother), Joe Rockwell (maternal grandfather), John Kelso (paternal grandfather), Eliza Kelso (paternal grandmother), Casey Kelso (paternal uncle), Chris Kelso (paternal uncle), Celia Stearwater (paternal aunt), Kelsey Stearwater (paternal great-aunt), Elaina Kelso (paternal aunt), Alex Kelso (paternal aunt), Betsy (great-grandmother), Jackie Burkhart (honorary aunt/godmother), Steven Hyde (honorary uncle/godfather), Fez (honorary uncle), Rhonda Tate (honorary aunt), Layla Kelso (paternal cousin), Rebecca Rockwell (maternal aunt), Leia Forman (sister in law), Margie Kelso (niece), Anne-Marie Kelso (niece), Lizzie Kelso (niece)

Romances: Maddie Joy (fake girlfriend)

Friends: Maddie Joy (best friend), Jess Nightly

Enemies: Ryland Barnes

Pet(s): Jamie Kelso (dog)

First Appearance:

Last Appearance:

Character

Oakley Kelso is the youngest son of Brooke Rockwell and Michael Kelso, and of his older siblings Betsy Kelso and Jay Kelso. Similar to his siblings and his father, he can be impulsive and occasionally reckless but also book smart like Brooke.

He isn’t shown to attract as many people as his siblings do not have their charm, but is shown to have a good sense of humor and has the ability to make people smile with just one word.

Personality

Similar to both his siblings, Oak is shown to be reckless and not the most responsible person in the world, but is also able to come through for the people he loves. He loves nature and playing in the mud, even has a jar of worms as pets along with a rock collection.

Car

TBD

Family

Brooke Rockwell

Oak and Brooke have a fairly good relationship for the most part. She may not like a lot of the decisions that he made but has always been there for him in need.

Michael Kelso

Oak and Kelso have a deep father son bond, with Kelso being the “fun” and “goofy” dad. They both share a love of cartoons, such as Scooby Doo.

Betsy Kelso

Oak and Betsy get on each other's nerves a lot, whether it's Betsy taking so long in the bathroom, or Oakley reading her diary and just being nosy. But do care for each other a lot. Like when she showed concern for him sleeping with a married man.

Jay Kelso

Oak and Jay have a strong brother bond and would scheme a lot together. Both tend to get on Betsy's nerves with their antics, but Oak gets on Jay's nerves quite a bit too (i.e. teasing him about Leia, stealing his hair gel, etc.). Despite all of that, Jay truly loves his brother and vice versa (i.e. reminding Oak that he deserves better).

Friends

Maddie Joy

Maddie and Oak have been best friends since preschool. Despite their differences in personalities, they’re inseparable. She was actually the first person he came out to as gay and she even helped to be his beard.

Romances

#t9s wikis #oc: oak kelso #last wiki I’ll ever be posting #I need to flesh out all these characters now lol #char wikis

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 8 years ago

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I've been to Wildwood. The Jersey Shore is crazy in general but wildwood is next level. The board walk has like 200 of the same t-shirt store, feels like you're walking through the fires of hell, and is jam packed with kids on camp trips. I've only ever done the board walk there but I've seen the walk you have to take to get out to the beach, it's insane. I can only imagine what it's like with family. How old are your cousins and what are they like?

My family has literally been coming to Wildwood every year since, like, at LEAST the 1930’s, I’m not sure on anyone earlier than that, and my family is insane, so let’s dive into this.

The Main Characters In My Life On Vacation Are:

-My Grandmother, who was a child dancer star (she tapped on the radio!) who’s been coming down here her whole life- her parents used to come down the same day there would be a talent show, enter her in it, and then use her first prize reward for the money they’d spend throughout the week. Has been in the old person stage of “I’m an elder, who cares what I say or do” for the past 15 years. Has eight living kids and Too Many Descendants. Loud and refuses to admit she can’t walk half the time.

- My Mother, who gets confused very easily, overshares and breaks off into meaningless tangents in the middle of stories, snores like a literal demon, always wants to be asleep, keeps pushing for family activities, doesn’t realize all the kids think she’s lame.

- Me, who is always Extra Depressed in the summer months, and is the Sole Person In This Family My Age- everyone just stopped having babies for a few years when my mother decided to have me (Everyone is either over 25 or under 16). Because of this I’m usually confined to my room, unable to really do anything on the boardwalk because going on rides alone is depressing and my mother has heart problems. Just wants to read and write, but the children keep Screaming.

- My Aunt and Her Husband- A Very Loud Couple, she likes to control everything and he’s the only one who ever bothers to yell back at her. They always fight exactly once, every year, and every year somehow I always end up being the only other person in the apartment while its happening, so I just have to sit in awkward silence until my aunt finally huffs out “I can’t believe you’re doing this in front of my goddaughter!” and storms out to go find her kids. They make a lot of jokes and think their children are very dramatic.

- Jenna, the 14 year old cousin. Very dramatic. Mastered the art of the eye roll at a young age. Has literally looked like a mini model since she was born. Can’t be bothered to deal with anyone. We usually have one (1) tiny girl-bonding moment each vacation and then she promptly acts like she doesn’t care even though it’s clear she does. Athletic and artistic and musically/theatrically gifted. Very sarcastic. Always doing cartwheels.

- Seanie, the 12 year old cousin. Middle child syndrome. Tries to hard to be funny for attention. VERY dramatic. Will cry at the drop of a dime (I’m typing this and I literally just heard him burst into tears in the other room??). Super adorable, you can tell he’s gonna be one of those high school boys that pulls Ridiculous Shit but after one charming smile the teachers can’t bring themselves to stay mad. Very loud. Currently addicted to video game youtubers.

-Zack, the 7 year old cousin. Adorable. Loud. Lowkey a prodigy child but they can’t afford to get him into Special Schools so he’s always bored in class. Baby Of The Family syndrome. Currently in an aggressive pokemon phase. Doesn’t understand he’s literally a child, he acts like an old man half the time.

We’re all shoved into a small apartment for a week, but there are Others:

- Kathy, Grandmom’s second oldest. Literally the most bland person I have ever encountered on this planet. Very, very into trying to plan ‘fun’ family events. Thinks any conversation is a riveting conversation.

- Kathy’s husband, who is just a plain old guy who’s lowkey a hoarder and jokes around a lot, but every time someone mentions his past or his family it gets more and more confusing??? He may have a brother who was in the CIA??? He may have been homeless or he may have lived with his sister???? He may have killed a man???? I literally know nothing concrete about this man other than he’s apparently been with my aunt since they were teens but I. D. K. Every new piece of information I receive just scatters the puzzle more.

- Their eldest daughter and her husband spend most of the summer down here but always make sure to match up the schedule for when we come down. Loud, energetic couple. I have no idea what either of them do for work? They might currently be unemployed? Really into alcohol. At some point in the week every year, everyone in my apartment bonds together to diss them after we get back from the beach. Like, they’ll do something or another EVERY YEAR that sets EVERYONE off.

- The 16 year old. Tries to show everyone memes on his phone. Never really talks to people. Does NOT get along with his parents because he’s kinda an outlier in the family. I feel like he might be a stoner, but if I find out he’s got a hidden gun collection, I wouldn’t be surprised? That probably sounds awful but he’s a good kid I promise.

- Danny, 12. Adorable. Quiet. Mini golden boy. Makes jokes when you aren’t expecting them. Very resigned to the fact he has to hug me and my mother when he sees us.

- Kathy and Mystery Man’s youngest daughter, a librarian, and her stand up comedian husband, and now their three month old who is ADORABLE and everyone was surprised to learn they hadn’t named her Hermione.

Other recurring family members are prone to popping up throughout the vacation- Aunt Margie, Grandmom’s sister-in-law, who, I love her, but remember that chocolate episode of spongebob with the old woman that was essentially a stick in a wheelchair and had a chain smoker voice??? Put that in the tiniest bikini you can imagine and add a wheezing laugh and you got her. Her daughter who I could not recognize on a street if I tried. Her son Michael, who is best friends with my mom and apparently Not Gay (no one’s really convinced). A step-cousin sometimes pops by, she’s very breezy and easy-going and you can’t distinguish her Actual Talking Voice with her Talking To Little Kids Voice.

Anyway, Wildwood itself is just. Goddamn ridiculous.

The aesthetic of this place is somewhere between the 1950’s, a trailer park, and the kind of developed land you get when a moustache-twirling man wants to convince all the old people he can to retire to his buildings. Some buildings are harsh metal, and others are bright pastels, but the only thing joining them together is the fact that it looks like no one has cleaned anything here in years. EVERYTHING, even the knew stuff, looks worn and faded. Even like…the AIR is faded. It’s not just the sun being too bright, everything you’re looking at looks like it’s an old photograph. If you stay too long, you might start to fade into the landscape yourself.

I have never once seen an animal that wasn’t a seagull here. Most towns, islands, places, whatever- you usually have at least squirrels running around, maybe some variations of birds, just. ANYTHING. But it’s all seagulls all the time. You cannot exist in a spot for longer than a few moments without one of them dive bombing you. They are not mere birds. They are feathered demons that Hath No Fear Of The Foolish Mortals Of Mankind.

The song “Wildwood Days” plays on the Boardwalk every half hour. It is the only way to appease the spirits. It’s the modern, New Jersey-ian version of painting lamb blood over your door frame. As much as I’ve grown to hate the song, to twitch and clench my fist at each note, I deeply fear for the day the song doesn’t play on time and the curse is unleashed. I have a deep, sinking feeling that this moment will come within my life time.

If You Don’t Stop To Watch The Fireworks, Your Bones Shall Never Be Found.

You hear the ongoing chant of “Watch the Tram Car, Please!”, and look around, but there isn’t a Tram Car coming. The order grows louder and louder. You realize you aren’t even on the Boardwalk any more. The sound is right behind you, but you can’t find the source. “Watch the Tram Car, Please!” you realize, to your horror, the sound is now coming from inside you. You never find your true voice again.

Despite The Fact That This Place Is A Mosh Pit Of Families From All Over The World, If You Can’t Immediately Place My Accent Or Figure Out What Language I’m Speaking, I Have Legal Grounds To Kill You.

The sand simply isn’t normal. It’s ADVANCED sand. It doesn’t make sense. It never truly washes off. The more you scrub, the more appears.

Ancient gods from multiple pantheons like to chill out on the beach, have a few beers. You never know for sure who is who, but you Know they aren’t the same as you, and you know they know more about you than you’re comfortable with. For your own sake, NEVER ask them to turn their music down.

There is always at least one plane flying over with a sign reading “Jen, will you marry Sean?”. It’s been decades. Will Jen ever say yes?

Elevators Are For The Weak And We Use Them To Judge Who To Do Away With First.

The ocean goes back and forth between green and grey, and you know the color makes a significant difference but you can never quite put your finger on what.

Fish Are Fake.

All the stores sell everything you want, but nothing you need.

King Kong Is Our Fierce Protector, Loving Hero, And Just Enforcer

All the police officers and firemen and general ‘in charge’ jobs seemed to be run completely by 18 years olds

No one truly knows who pulls the shots when it comes to deciding the Boardwalks style each year. Every store sells the same Designated Style, and each year they make less and less sense. You buy a specialized hoodie anyway, and you have no idea why.

I could keep going on with that list, but the point is, Wildwood is a Strange Place and I have a Ridiculous Family, so every year is always a bit of an experience.

Like, no one in my family really has anything in common other than everyone’s always loud and everyone’s always right and everyone is always ready to loudly fight over the fact that they’re definitely right, but like. Imagine crawling through some Hillbilly Murder Showers in the garage of a condo, using all of your force to pry open a suspiciously heavy and questionably mechanized door, walking under the boardwalk and trekking over sand dunes just to find a bunch of screaming yet physically relaxed people under the flag for Montserrat. Some guy’s cracking stand up jokes while no less than three children are fighting each other, your mother is promising for the 14th year in a row that you’re gonna go on a whale watching trip and everyone knows she’s lying, some woman’s trying to hold a conversation about buying applesauce in bulk while her husband and children get drunk, there’s a skinny pale guy with horrible sunburn blasting songs from N.W.A., a girl’s cartwheeling around the site to the point you think she doesn’t know how to move any other way, a boy’s quietly drinking pickle juice, there’s a 7 year old literally trapped in a giant hole that he dug, your mother is snoring loud enough to alarm the people around you, and just when you’re starting to get a little comfortable about the feathered demons and start to relax, a tide comes in so strongly your chair literally starts getting pulled out to sea with you in in. It’s average. It's fading into the landscape with the rest of the place.

#I was gonna make this Funnier and go into more specifics about my family but im literally about to pass out so night #wildwood #family #vacation #molly's memories #asks #molly mumbles

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sporksandthings · 7 years ago

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DDay 2017

This is a hard one, guys.

My father died on October 30, 2011. Every year on the day he died, I’ve gotten the day off work (when needed) and posted something on tumblr. Preferably while drunk. I haven’t planned any of them.

Keeping in mind that this day is really all about me (duh), this one is going to be shared between my dad and my uncle Dave. Which is exactly what my father would have wanted, because it was my uncle Dave, and my dad always knew that he was a very good man.

Dave died on September 27th. And there are three distinct sets of feelings that I’m dealing with as a result. Let’s start with the ugliest ones and work our way up, shall we?

1) Jealousy.

My father died when I was twenty-three years old. By the time he had died, he had alienated everyone who ever cared about him, so that meant that when he passed away I felt like I was completely and utterly alone.

I wasn’t, by the way. But it’s DDay and that’s not important right now.

No one else knew him the way I did. No one else was around for the worst of it, like I was (except for my grandmother). All their grief was false. All the love was on my behalf. No one knew about this man who was my entire world, and no one else could feel the ramifications of his absence. My loss was singular, unique to me. Everyone who pretended otherwise was just that – pretending. I can count on one hand the people who showed up at my father’s service who had spoken to him in the five years prior. And I hated all the rest of them . Which wasn’t fair at all, but I felt it absolutely in the moment.

Dave was a different man than my father. Nearly 200 people were there for his service, and every last one of them had an important, individual relationship with him. The love felt that day was for him, the man who had died, and not entirely those he left behind.

And I’m jealous of that.

I wish my father had more people in his life who loved him. I wish I wasn’t going through this alone. I wish that there were a community of people who felt and knew how good my father could be, when he really tried.

The thing is, it’s been six years now. I’ve gone through the worst shit of my dad dying. Not to say that surprising new emotions aren’t popping up every now and then when I least expect or am least able to deal with them. They totally are. But this is an old, old wound. I hate that I have this nagging, awful thought in the back of my head that’s making someone else’s tragedy about me and my dad. Of course they’re different. Each person is different, each death is different, and equating the two doesn’t give enough credit to anyone involved.

Yet here I am. Being small and petty, even if only to myself. Wishing so much that my dad had more people in his life, that I had been older and more able to deal with the loss, that someone else knew exactly how much the world had lost when he died.

Which leads to point number 2.

2) Dave and my dad.

My dad left my mom to be with Cheri.

I’m pretty sure I was two when this happened, and I have no memory of the actual break-up.

But it was nasty.

I know why my dad did it, and it had a lot to do with the fucked up marriage he and my mother had. Even if it was indelicate (to say the least) and blunt, it made sense for him at the time, and I think my childhood was a lot better for it.

But it really destroyed my mom. It’s only been as I’ve gotten older that I’ve been able to appreciate why my mom was so awful to Cheri during that time, and why it was so hard for her to acknowledge that this woman who ‘stole’ her man was a very real, important, loving part of her daughter’s life.

When my mom and dad separated, nearly all of my mom’s very large family turned against him. They had loyalties, and those were to my mom, and he became a pariah.

There were exceptions. I have an aunt who was determined to be a resource to both of my parents while they were raising a kid. If I hadn’t said it before, I will say it here now and with lots of feeling: Thank god for my aunt Margie.

And then there was Dave.

Dave liked my dad, and he made the decision to be one of Tom’s friends, regardless. Dave had also married into this very large, insane, family, and he had a unique ability to navigate all the bullshit. My mom is one of nine kids and (said with all the affection in the world), they’re all crazy. Dave got along with almost all of them and their partners, and had been getting along with them for about fifteen, twenty years when my parents split up.

And he wasn’t just going to stop talking to my dad because he left my mom.

My dad never begrudged my mom’s family not liking him. He hadn’t been too close to most of them, and those he had been close to he always talked about fondly to me. For example, I know he had been really close to my uncle Mark before he split up with my mom, and after the separation, he never said a bad word about the man who had apparently all but spat in his face when the split happened, because he didn’t want to ruin my relationships with him.

My dad had many faults, but he valued loyalty, and he wasn’t going to poison me toward my mother’s family when they had shown her such devotion. Instead, he always said good things about the people he had been close to before he broke up with my mom, and then tactfully (which, good god, my dad being tactful ever was a god damn miracle) said nothing about the others.

So when Dave was around it was shocking to me.

But Dave was around.

In my life, of course. That was never in question. But also in my father’s life. My father didn’t talk about Dave the way he talked about other family members, because it was always in the immediate. He saw Dave at work (they worked at a bread factory together for a time), Dave was at the house fixing something*, Dave had given him a call.

*So apparently, my dad had called up Dave to fix something in the house Dad, Cheri and I had together. I’m 99% I wasn’t there for this, and I think it was actually Cheri who told it to me this story. I’m not sure what the problem was, but I imagine it was relatively simple for Dave to fix, and so he told my dad not to pay him. Dad wouldn’t have it, pulled out a wad of money and waved it in Dave’s face. Dave backed away, said ‘Fuck no!’ and started running around the living room and into the kitchen, running in a circle around the place with my dad chasing him. Soon, Spirit (the dog) joined in the fun, convinced this was the best game ever, and chased them both as they ran around and around in our tiny house. No one told me the end of the story, but I’m sure Dave didn’t take the money. I’m also pretty sure he’s the only person in my family to ever meet Cheri. The fact that she liked him too says a lot.

There was a certain point when Dave wasn’t keeping up with my dad anymore. It was a bit after the time that everyone else realized that he was too sick to maintain meaningful relationships (in this context, a ‘a bit after’ means a lot). But because of all of the times in between, my dad clearly liked Dave more than all the other members of my mother’s family, and whenever I brought up his name my dad would smile, nod and say, “Dave’s a good guy.”

My dad’s service was awful. I’ve written about how I just found my friend Emily and stuck to her like glue, because she was my constant. Everything else was a sad affair. There was a moment when my cousin (love of my life) asked if anyone wanted to say anything about Tom. There were twenty awkward seconds of silence, and then Dave stood up. And he read a eulogy – a poem – he had written for my dad. He was one of two people to speak.

After the service, he gave me an envelope labeled, ‘Remembering Tom,’ with his poem inside. Given just to me.

I have that envelope and his kind words locked away with all the other things I treasure about my dad. I cherish them the same way I value pictures, stupid rocks with green faces and paintings of boys fishing – they represent my father in way that so few things can.

Dave knew my dad – really knew him – at a time when I thought I was totally alone. And he gave me the words to remember that I was not alone in my love for him, when I most thought I was.

3) Dave

Dad wouldn’t mind me sharing this day with Dave. He would honestly be pretty pissed if I didn’t.

Dave is my example of what a good man should be. Like my dad, he felt things more acutely than many men want to admit to, but he owned up to and followed through on those feelings. His love wasn’t a passive thing, it was active and he ensured that it was felt.

At the end of this August, Dave sent me a text message asking me how I was doing.

How I was doing was sick. Very, very sick. I ignored his text message.

He sent me an email asking me how I was doing.

I responded, letting him know I was sick but getting better but that I missed him.

A week later, he sent me another text message.

He asked me if I was feeling better.

I was and told him as much.

Did I see myself moving back to California?

Probably not, at least not any time soon, I replied.

Then, he responded, we would just have to make sure that we saw each other for more than an afternoon during my latest trip. An entire day. There would be wine and food and he was so looking forward to it.

I was too.

There are very few good male role models in my life. Even my dad knew that, and he loved the fact that I knew and cared about Dave. He wanted him around, to offer me a counterpoint to his own, often erratic, behavior.

I’ve dealt with so many people I care about dying. I’m honestly a little scraped out. I feel much less acutely than I did when I was twenty-three and dealing with it for the first time. I thought that I was done. That any grief left could roll off my shoulders.

The things is, it never just rolls off the shoulders. You get better at pretending it does, but some fundamental part of you is still changed.

I’m not very good with talking to other people who experience loss, because of the ‘scraped out’ ness of it all.

I was talking to my cousin, Dave’s son, and he mentioned a gaping hole. Something lost inside of him that he knew he would never get back.

He’s not wrong. Of course he isn’t.

But for me it’s different. Especially now, four deaths down the line.

For me it’s not a hole. It’s a weight. An added burden you get to carry with you for the rest of your life. And that weight carries with it all you valued about the person you’ve lost. Their faults, their virtues, everything they’ve ever taught you. The things you did to help or hurt them. All of it gets passed to you, because they’re not there anymore to share the load.

Your muscles get stronger the longer they bear this burden. They build up over time, and you get better at pretending that it’s not a strain.

Until, suddenly, you feel the weight more than ever. Without knowing it, you’ve overextended yourself and you have no energy left. None at all.

The alternative is to shrug it off. To push off the grief, make it so it’s not there at all. To forget that it hurts, that the person you missed meant so much to you.

And that’s no option at all.

This is a hard DDay. I’ve lost my other father figure. A great man.

I didn’t properly realize that these hits would keep on coming. But they will. And that’s okay. I just have to make sure that we keep working these muscles.

#dday #dday 2017 #real person post

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peace-coast-island · 4 years ago

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Diary of a Junebug

Off on a nautical adventure!

We're sailing the Stone Glass Seas, exploring uncharted territory and enjoying the breeze. Rocky and Chrissie are here with some friends to go on a sailing adventure where they happened to run into Gulliver. So they made a stop at the camp and invited us campers to tag along because the more, the merrier!

It feels like forever since Rocky went sailing, which seems surprising since that's his thing. But with him and Lex busy with Talia and now Kessa, sailing has taken kind of a backseat. Of course, Rocky showed us pics of baby Kessa - who is adorable - and Talia, who's walking and talking now. As for Rocky and Lex's wedding, they're aiming for next year - preferably before baby number three comes along, they joke.

Now that Rocky and Lex are out of the newborn stage and have fully adjusted to two babies, they finally have some time to themselves. Chrissie's been helping out a lot as well as serving as sort of a peacemaker between Rocky and their uncle. It's not that they don't get along, it's just that McMann's the old fashioned type so the fact that his bisexual nephew's in a relationship with an enby and they have two kids while unmarried is kinda hard for him to wrap his head around. He does like Lex though and is actively making an effort not to misgender them and such, so at least there's that.

Joining them is Emma with her nieces and nephew. Emma just made the move to Cityburg about a month ago to move in with her brother and his kids. Despite working her ass off for six years in college, Emma was down on her luck, forced to live off her parents. When they told her that they were gonna kick her out, Danny stepped in, which they weren't too happy about. The kids are all for it as Emma's the favorite (and only) aunt and Danny could really use the help.

Margie, Rusty, and Linda like having Emma around and she likes being with them. Danny's a nightclub entertainer at the Cocktail Cabana who occasionally travels so he's not home all the time. Things haven't been easy since his husband and eldest daughter passed away last year, forcing Margie to take over as caretaker as well as housekeeper. While Emma and Margie have always gotten along like sisters, there has been some undercurrents as to who runs things around the house.

When the twins invited Emma to go sailing, she suggested bringing the kids along since Danny will be traveling that week and the kids are off from school. Emma also hopes to work things out with Margie, who she thinks has forgotten how to be a teenager. Now that we've been out on the sea for a couple days, I can see what she means. We all feel bad for Margie as she was forced to grow up quickly and as a result, she also became protective of her family.

Rusty and Linda are up to their own mischievous ways as usual, always keeping Emma and Margie on their toes. Sherry's presence is sorely missed - she was more than just Margie's partner in crime, she was also the ringleader of the Amos-Thomas siblings. A part of me had hoped that Sherry would make a miraculous recovery, but as time went on, all hopes of that diminished.

On a side note, Sherry would've turned sixteen last week - and the month before would've been Terry's birthday. So that's another reason why Emma decided to take the kids along - to give them a distraction so they won't be at each other's throats. And it's definitely been helping, especially for Rusty and Linda, who are having a great time right now. I think it's working for Emma and Margie too - or at least Emma can talk to her without feeling like she's walking on eggshells. I hope things work out for them.

While on our way to Wavy Shores, we ran into Gulliver, making his round trips as usual. Along with the usual treats he brings back, he also has some passengers tagging along. Through his travels, Gulliver often runs into villagers - most who I've never met before - and sometimes they join him on his voyage, later joining us at the camp. I'm pretty sure Gulliver talks up about the camp but I'm not complaining - the more, the merrier! So not only we got treats and maps, but also new friends to look forward to when we get back.

Wavy Shores definitely lives up to its name. Dixie first came across this place by accident and became mesmerized by the landscape. Given her stories about the shores, Rocky had to see it for himself. In fact, a good number of the places on the itinerary - aside from uncharted territory we plan on exploring - were places Dixie have been to. Rocky's been living the dream spending a lot of time with Dixie as she's basically a role model for him, the one who taught him how to sail. It's cute seeing his eyes light up whenever he talks about Dixie!

Everything in Wavy Shores is, well, wavy. Even the sky looks like a blend of wavy colors, contrasting with the sand dunes, the rocks, and the deep blue sea. It's so fascinating to look at - nature is amazing!

To the southwest is Polka Dot Leaf, a floating island known for its coral castle ruins. The exact location is a bit tricky to pinpoint because the island tends to shift due to the rough waters. We lucked out as around this time of year the seas are much calmer so it's all smooth sailing from there - I'd hate to get stuck in the middle of a storm.

The reason why it's called Polka Dot Leaf is because from above that's what the island looks like. It's one of those places that nature is slowly reclaiming, overgrown with seaweed brambles and seabloom blossoms. Walking into a coral castle ruin feels surreal, like I'm expecting the room to transform into another world.

What happened to the island's inhabitants remain a mystery, which adds to the appeal and mystique. Bedrooms with unmade beds, a kitchen sink full of chipped dishes, a desk full of yellowed papers covered in scribbles, a basket of laundry waiting to be folded - all of that, frozen in time. So many untold stories left behind.

To the east lies Summer Grove, a rainforest that is home to many rare butterflies. I've never seen so many colorful butterflies at once! All those colors and shapes - it's amazing to witness! Not to mention how majestic the butterflies are, fluttering about against a sea of green. We also enjoyed the tropical fruits and swimming at the lagoon. The weather was incredibly warm, but not overly humid or hot - which I'm grateful for or else I wouldn't have been able to appreciate the scenery as much and that would be a huge shame.

Then north we went through the Pearl Breeze Current to the idyllic mountains of Quill. Sailing through the Pearl Breeze is no easy feat as the current can be quite tricky to navigate, especially if you're not an experienced sailor. We were on the edge of our seats in our life jackets, holding our breaths while Rocky braved the waters. It was rough, but we made it!

A couple hours later we made it to the mountains and checked into a hotel for a well deserved rest. It's a good thing we weren't too far from land because I wasn't sure how much longer I could handle being at sea after the ordeal with the Pearl Breeze. Aside from a bad headache, an early rest did the trick along with some aspirin and a cool wet cloth.

The next day we went hiking in the mountains, where we came across a cave full of paintings and little iridescent crystals. Exploring the cave was a lot of fun, especially for the kids. Margie and Chrissie put their Chickadee Scout skills to use by guiding us through the tunnels, leading us to an old fountain covered in gothic roses. At first we thought the fountain was broken, until Rusty noticed that the overgrown foliage had blocked something. After a lot of tugging and pulling, a huge burst of water came out, soaking all of us. It was like the fountain came to life, showering us with crystal clear water and gothic rose petals.

On the way back to the hotel we stopped by a shop to change into some dry clothes. Everything looked so nice that it was hard to choose what to wear! Lately I've been into muted neutrals and florals and the store just happened to cater to my interests. Eventually I settled on a dusky pink floral dress with a maroon cardigan and then splurged on a lacy white blouse paired with a brown floral skirt. And then after that we browsed some other shops before grabbing dinner and heading back to the hotel.

Westward bound we headed to Greenaway, an archipelago known for its rare and unusual gems. At the center of the island is the famous volcano, a marvelous sight to see according to many adventurers. Rocky and Chrissie's uncle visited there about thirty years ago, witnessing an eruption when the village he was staying at was forced to evacuate. Since then that part of the island has been abandoned, though as of last year part of the outskirts is no longer restricted to the public.

Chrissie was hoping to find the house McMann rented along with some stuff he had to leave behind. It was long shot, especially since most of the area's buried in volcanic ash, but we figured that it wouldn't hurt to take a look - as long as it's safe. So we did, and as expected, we couldn't get too far because the entire village's pretty much gone. But we were able to figure out the area where McMann stayed based on the lamppost that served as a landmark - one of the few things that wasn't entirely buried in ash or destroyed in the eruption. It's eerie, looking at the remains of what was once a busy place.

Now we're sailing north, to Sunstone Caves. According to Dixie, the island's a floating desert in the middle of nowhere. It's a long ride - at least three days - so we have to be prepared for anything. While out on sea, especially with no landmarks to spot or keep us on track, time can stretch and bend in unpredictable ways. Luckily we're well stocked with supplies and good company so that'll make the time go by smoothly.

Being out here surrounded by sea and sky, it makes me feel so small. Compared to the sea, I'm a tiny little speck floating about. There's so much of the world around me, so much that I don't know about - it's something that keeps me going. The fact that there's so much to see, to explore, to experience - sometimes you get lucky and suddenly all these far off places you've never dreamed of seeing are within your grasp.

#animal crossing #animal crossing pocket camp #Diary of a Junebug #headcanon ramble

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maciaslucymua-blog1 · 7 years ago

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How To Make Your Holidays Crunchy

New Post has been published on http://www.healthgoesfemale.com/how-to-make-your-holidays-crunchy/

How To Make Your Holidays Crunchy

You’ve prepared for fall and winter. All your tinctures are in a row, and so are your stockings. You have a solid three pounds of elderberries in your cupboard, and loads of baking mixes. Even your home is ready for the colder season. You’re gift planning, and prepared for the holidays. You’re set, right? Contributing writer, Danielle, shows us how to make the most of the holiday season as natural mamas, while focusing on the joy this season can bring.

How To Make Your Holidays Crunchy

Are you worried about all the unhealthy treats, materialism, non-stop parties (where we just eat the unhealthy treats) and possible illness to follow?

I know that I am.

In the beginning of my natural mama journey, I declared the holidays a “free” season. We will just have to eat what’s served at the holiday parties, and try Aunt Barb’s red #40 cookies. It isn’t Christmas without them! Or is it?

After every Christmas followed with a nasty cough, I realized the attitude I had towards the holidays was not helping anyone, especially my child, and was contradicting our lifestyle the other 11 months of the year.

It was the time to put the crunch back into our Christmas.

The truth is that the holidays can evolve around food for us – grandma’s special ” butter” (GMO margarine) cookies, grandpa’s mashed potatoes, and Aunt Margie’s 50 layer taco dip.

So, the first step in transforming our holidays is to realize that it’s not about the food at all.

Yes, you can eat a few unhealthy treats.

Yes, you can make the recipes healthy.

But, at the core, the holidays are about giving and gratefulness. They are about family and sharing our love with those we hold dear.

So, turn your holidays healthy by focusing on all the other great parts of the season.

Make It NOT About Food

Find a local food bank, host a Fair Trade party to benefit women in dire situations, or volunteer at your church. Create an Advent calendar with fun, giving tasks. Have a healthy party with moms from your neighborhood. Plan SOMETHING that does not evolve around Christmas cookie swaps. Your health, waistline, and those in need will thank you.

Create New Traditions

Sometimes when we begin our own family, we stick with the traditions our own families did. But, it is also fun to create new traditions as a new family. Try camping out under the tree, stringing popcorn as decorations, and other fun, educational crafts and traditions to make your own holiday memories – and something other than food to look forward to.

Focus on Others

The real point of the holidays is being grateful for what you have, and sharing that with others. Focus on helping someone else, such as donating gifts to a single mom, filling a shoebox for a less fortunate child, or even lending a helping hand at a food shelter.

Make It Educational

Instead of the typical commercial-type toys this year, find fun educational alternatives. You can even get a subscription to a magazine or a membership to a local museum. That’s truly the gift that keeps on giving.

Buy Healthier Toys

Many toys, especially plastic ones, leach petroleum byproducts, dyes, and other health hazards. Stick wtih classic and educational toys, especially opting for wood over plastic.

Go International

Learn about how other cultures celebrate the holidays, and try out their foods and traditions! This is great for the homeschool or unschool family. And why not actually go to another country one year to celebrate? You may pick up customs and family traditions for the other seasons of the year, as well.

Host It Yourself

If all else fails, host the family and community parties at your home! You know that you can then control the menu, and it may be fun to introduce your way of eating to those you love.

Try Healthy Home Scents

Commercial candles are allergenic, have been shown to worsen asthma, and even disrupt hormones. Choose beeswax or soy candles. You can also warm water with a cinnamon stick and orange peel right on the stove for an easy DIY home scent. Warm beeswax with some essential oils in commercial oil warmers.

Swap Out The Recipes

Truly there is NO food you cannot make healthy! You just need to swap the unhealthy, packaged and preserved ingredients with traditional whole foods. Below are some common swaps, but you can also entirely remake unhealthy recipes into something you are proud to serve!

Quick Natural Recipe Swaps

Instead of processed and packaged, try this! – Substitute coconut oil, grassfed butter, or even applesauce for Crisco or margarine

– Instead of vegetable oil (which usually is GMO), try coconut oil or even cold-pressed sunflower or olive oil.

– Swap white, bleached flour for sprouted, sourdough, gluten free (such as almond or coconut) and whole wheat flours.- Try honey, molasses, maple syrup or coconut sugar instead of bleached, white sugar.

– Swap regular croutons for hardened (leave it out for a few days in a dry place, then crush in a food processor of coffee grinder) leftover sprouted, gluten free, or sourdough bread.- Try dairy and nut free, high cacao chocolate for baking instead of commercial chocolate, which contains preservatives and GMOs.

Photo by Pixabay

Holidays can be an extremely tough season for sticking to your healthy lifestyle. But, they don’t have to be! Try out these tips, spruce up your unhealthy recipes, and resolve to have a crunchy holiday this year!

What are your tips for having a crunchy holiday?

Top Photo by Pixabay

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