#i cannot compute the pantry

[doomzday-zone]

i need someone to come to my house rn and make me food

[kedreeva]

You're sort of one of the kindest people i know on tumblr, so. um. i had a question.

how do i deal with it all?

right of the bat i will tell you i am a minor and my parents are zionists, so i have no income of my own or anything i could donate. everytime i post a single fundraiser that reaches my inbox and is vetted, i get 4-5 new fundraising asks for palestine.

most of them are unvetted, but i keep thinking that if i can't donate i should at least have faith in people and reblog the fundraisers even if they're unvetted, possibly that they're actually new and need as much help we can give, however, there's a possibility they are scams, and i don't want to draw away the attention vetted fundraisers might get.

how do you decide where to help out and how to live with your decision?

I have a policy that when it comes to asks (or messages) that solicit money or other actions (like boosting posts) I don't respond to or even publish asks that come from anyone that has never spoken to me before that moment, and that's a policy that has been in place for many years now, and is unlikely to change largely because the majority of asks/messages that are requesting money or to visit a blog post/their blog/their website are scams (or more often several years ago, led to virus infections on your computer!). My blog is, as it has stated at the top for over ten years now, a personal blog, not a fundraising/signal boosting/vetting blog for spreading donations- there ARE blogs like that, and people can choose to interact with those blogs or not, but my blog isn't the place for it and that's a hard boundary I enforce for my own well being. Tumblr is my place to rest and recover, however I see fit to do that.

A random ask to my inbox asking for money, regardless of what it is for, is (in my view) equivalent to a cold call from a stranger soliciting money. It's not about faith in people, it's not about right or wrong, it's not about can or can't. This is my home, and I don't answer the phone to unknown numbers. I will help friends/family/people I know personally (or parasocially, if I like them or recognize them), obviously, but that's a bit of a different horse.

As for how I decide where to help out, if I have the ability (funds, spoons, time etc), I will seek out information on the best place to donate that can do the most with the money to help the person/people/cause that I want to help. It's the Food Pantry Equation: I could spend $5 on groceries at retail price to donate, and maybe get enough for 1 meal for 1 person (though in this fuckoff capitalist hellscape, I'm not sure $5 would even buy a whole meal), or I could give $5 directly to a Food Pantry organization, who buys in bulk and knows where to get stuff cheap, so that my $5 can help five people or ten people or whatever. I also do my best to participate in fandom events that raise money for good causes; stuff like the fanworks charity auction I helped run to donate to a wolf sanctuary, or stuff like Fandom Trumps Hate (another charity fanworks auction event). Those kind of events are generally open about where the donations go to, and have done research into organizations to ensure the gathered money goes to good charities.

Like with the above, however, it's different if I know the person. If my neighbor comes and asks for a cup of sugar or my friend needs help moving or whatever, I'm gonna give them what they need without the middleman because we have that relationship already established. Donating $5 to a food pantry would probably help more people by numbers, but helping my neighbors and friends and family etc builds community in a way giving $5 to a random stranger on the phone soliciting money cannot, and even in a way donating $5 (or $5 worth of food) to a Food Pantry cannot. It's also usually a matter of one and done, as well as semi-transactional the way any relationship is a give and take; I can give my neighbor some sugar, and down the road they can return the favor the next time I'm in need of help. I help my friends move and I know whether or not I ever move, myself, that they would do the same for me if they're able. You can't say this about a random ask on the Internet and you likely won't ever be able to say it for most charities unless you somehow end up in their exact area of expertise. So it's different.

I feel like you should also learn about Tim Wong, the guy who basically single-handedly repopulated the Pipevine Swallowtail butterfly out in California. The lesson his story can and should teach is that... sometimes it can do more good for the world to care Very Much about one specific thing, and put your heart and soul into it, than it does to spread a little bit of care over a lot of things.

So, I guess what I mean to say here is... don't feel guilty about what you cannot do. There's no guilt in that. When you are ready and able to help, you can always go and look for a good way to do so (and what you end up helping may not always be the thing you think it will be), but you don't need to feel pressured by telemarketers or charity donation calls from strangers while you're trying to eat dinner. Especially if they don't even know who you are, either.

[rileyslibrary]

Living With Ghosts: 4. Pretty Broken

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,150

Notes:

Warnings: Mentions of blood and war

As much as I like Ghost’s demeanor throughout the game, I cannot help but wonder what he would be like suffering the aftereffects of war.

Entire work on AO3

Table of Contents

———————————————————————

It’s been days since you last talked to him.

His inattentiveness, however, was not the outcome of your petty little brawl—not the direct consequence, at least. If you had to venture a guess, it’s because he was busy with other matters at the moment—far more important ones.

The Russian Mafia appears to have increased its presence in the region over the past week, raising suspicions of a potential terrorist attack. As a result, the CIA has requested high readiness from the Special Forces operators deployed in the area.

That’s where he is, you fool. It doesn’t matter how abandoned, lonely, or insecure you feel, for he had a job to do. He was right there, at the front line, risking his life for the nation’s—and probably the world’s—safety. You were the last thing on his mind right now; if you ever were anything to him but a mild inconvenience.

Let’s not forget that you also had a part to play in this operation; to actively scan land, air, and sea for irregular traffic and report to the CIA.

Well, not actively, per se—the safe house has a well-equipped wine cellar for that specific purpose.

“Surveillance Control Center,” they call it—SCC for short.

What was once used to store ruby-red Chianti Classico Riserva bottles can now be confused with the cockpit of a spaceship. The CIA engineers have outdone themselves with this one—you give them that.

The SCC is part of a computer network connecting every CIA safe house in the Mediterranean. It incorporates CCTV monitors, cameras, radars, and motion sensors designed to detect unusual movements in the region. Live-streaming feeds are processed using highly sophisticated software, which, upon catching unusual traffic, alerts the SCC’s terminal. The wine cellar also houses an arsenal of weapons and ammunition, just in case the shit hits the fan.

Your job, for now, is to oversee the SCC’s flawless operation and inform Laswell of any findings.

Boring; that’s what your job was. Boring.

“Christmas is coming,” Laswell’s voice sounded over the telephone, “You guys should do something to celebrate.”

“Do what, exactly, Kate? Go from house to house and sing carols on behalf of the CIA?” You reply, leaning forward as if you were trying to physically get your point across.

“If you’d stop being a sarcastic shit, then perhaps you could think a little better.” Her irritation rasped in her voice. “Do something together; think of it as a team-building event.”

He said he’d fix that attitude of yours; when was that team-building event going to take place?

She was right, though—as much as you’d hate to admit it. Christmas does bring people together.

You begin to reminisce about the good times back home when your family used to celebrate every year. You used to cook together, sing along to festive songs, watch Mr. Bean on television, and exchange gifts.

You remember your mother, who refrained from buying ornaments from the shops. She used to bake them instead—yes, bake them. She used to roll out the dough, give shape to it with cookie cutters and bake the ornaments so you would all decorate the Christmas tree with them. The entire house smelled divine with these four little ingredients she used in her recipe—cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

Ingredients you already had in your pantry.

“Laswell, when’s my shift ending?” you asked in anticipation.

“It ended thirty-seven minutes ago. Tired of me?”

“I thought of something.” You announce, sitting on the edge of your seat.

“Wha-”

“I have to go. Over and out.” You report as you close the comms and head upstairs to the infamous pantry.

Cinnamon, salt, flour, and water.

You were determined to make it work, right here, in this safe house—with or without Ghost.

You hurried outside, scanning the area for the tree branches he trimmed a few weeks ago. If you tie them together, you could create something resembling a Christmas tree.

When was the last time he felt the Christmas spirit? Does he have a Christmas tree at his house? A family to sing together next to the fireplace? A warm, festive meal?

You moved frantically—part Christmas elf rolling out dough and baking ornaments, part Frankenstein trying to assemble a Christmas tree monstrosity.

Time flew by; hours passed like minutes as you worked hard, your creativity unleashed, putting forth your best effort to create something out of nothing.

To create festive decor out of raw ingredients.

To construct a tree out of stray branches.

To form a connection out of two peoples’ broken pieces.

“What’s that smell?”

You were so focused that you didn’t notice him standing behind you.

You turn around to see a wreck, the fragments of a man who has probably seen terrible things and done far worse.

“I—is everything all right?” You hesitate.

“Out of trouble, for now.” He replies.

His body stands straight, but his mind betrays him. He still wears his gun around his left shoulder. It looks too heavy for him now, just like his conscience.

“Yes, I know. I spoke with Laswell. I mean, are you all right?”

“Been better.”

His uniform is dusty, and his boots are covered in mud. There is a slight rip on his balaclava, teasing you with a subtle view of his jawline, like a Geisha exposing her nape.

“It’s over, for now.” you try to comfort him.

There’s blood on his left sleeve—a lot of blood. He just became aware of it as well.

“Not mine.” He announces and hides it behind his back. “What’s that smell?” He repeats, trying to avoid the conversation.

“Cinnamon.”

“Ya bakin’?” He seems shocked.

“Sort of; They’re ornaments for the Christmas tree,” you say, pointing in the direction of your most recent creation.

“A Christmas tree.” He stutters, glazed eyes darting left and right, assessing the new environment.

You want to tell him that there are no booby traps here, nothing dangerous to be careful of. You want to console him that there is no need to be alerted for an ambush here, for this is a safe space. No more killing, no more death, for now. Just you two, a hideous Christmas tree, and badly shaped cinnamon-baked ornaments.

“Do you like them?” You ask reluctantly, trying to divert his attention from this week’s horrors. “I couldn’t find any cookie cutters, so I shaped them with a knife instead. I tried to make them look pretty, but some came out broken.”

“Aren’t we all?” he mumbles as he walks towards the Christmas tree.

“Aren’t we all exactly what, lieutenant—pretty or broken?” you ask, attempting to lighten the mood.

“Pretty broken, kid,” he whispers as he picks up a shattered ornament. “Pretty damn broken.”

———————————————————————

Next ->

[alarajrogers]

Alara's List Of Games She Cannot Design Because She Is Not A Game Designer

None of these exist as anything other than high concept, and if you wanna rip one off, feel free, but give me credit for the original concept.

"Rat Man" game except with Portal IP stripped out of it. I wanted, years ago, to see a game about the Rat Man, which turns his schizophrenia into a game mechanic. In Portal lore, Rat Man, a paranoid schizophrenic who worked at Aperture Science, was the only survivor of GLaDOS' deadly neurotoxin, because his paranoia led him to flee. I wanted to have a character who successfully escaped an evil computer due to being paranoid. He has meds with him. If he takes the meds, he doesn't hallucinate, he sees the world as it is, he is better able to control his emotions (extreme terror can lead to a heart attack). But, he is less likely to notice threats. Without his meds, his inanimate comfort object talks to him so he is less lonely (extreme loneliness can cause depression, which slows all reaction time), and gives him warnings about threats before he can see them. Also, he sees the threats faster. He also sees a lot of threats that don't actually exist, which causes him to burn through his health faster. So the player has to trade off between taking meds for greater health and calm, vs not taking meds for greater reaction time and higher mood (without meds he is terrified all the time but he has his talking friend, who fills him with determination and strength of will, because his friend wants him to survive. With meds, his friend is an inanimate object and he's all alone.)

Something where you get to weaponize gravity against threats, like, you're on a space station where the artificial gravity is shut down, and your first and best big upgrade is getting the remote that turns on the gravity plating in the bulkheads. Gravity plating is in all bulkheads so you can make gravity happen on your left, then after your enemies are all drawn to your left, switch it off there and turn it on to the right, making them all fall the width of the room.

Bad Bitches, where you (or you and 2 friends in co-op mode) play female dogs getting into trouble in the trash cans and pantries in your house, while your owner patrols and tries to catch you being bad.

Mini Fridgy, where your mom is a jerk who has hidden all the snacks in the house in various mini-fridges, pantries and lockers in your house, and you have to run around eating the snacks and dodging your mom. Done in retro 80's mode because that's when I came up with this game. There is absolutely no pro-social or "health conscious" model here, you are a kid who wants snacks.

An RPG where you are a human who died and was sent to a world mostly populated by cute talking animals who are very sheltered and have basically the emotional regulation of 8 year olds. Also magic works here and responds to emotion, positive or negative, so friendship really is magic, a bunny rabbit throwing a Karen tantrum at the market because they didn't have the lettuce they wanted could turn into a poltergeist throwing everything around if you don't talk her down, and killing a sapient being turns anyone who does it into a monster. You can be a monster hunter, a monster reformer (this is dangerous as shit), a peacemaker, a farmer, a shopkeeper, whatever. Kind of like Animal Crossing in some ways, but with some MLP kind of shit mixed in.

Prison Break (not the actual title): Another story about cute animals. They are in prison for murder, arson, grand theft, etc, and so are you. Build alliances with your fellow prisoners, don't get shivved by that bunny with a knife, and, eventually, organize a prison break. You can kill people in this game but if it's not self defense you better make sure the wardens can't figure out it was you. And by people I mean adorable small animals who are disrespecting you.

[gothtopus108]

Okay, perhaps one of the worstest things i've ever written, BUT i needed to get my thoughts out in a semi-creative way. This isnt meant to be a piece of art, just venting with some half-baked poetry weaved in and I honestly dont even care if anyone reads it

MASSIVE trigger warning for ED and SH, as well as like child neglect and god-awful writing

staying home alone in my empty childhood home. I am now an adult, but I remember being only 13, 5 years or maybe an eternity ago, staying home alone. My father in the hospital, my mother by his bedside. I was just a child then. A child, intent on destroying herself in the name of her ruined adolecence. I never ate from the fully stocked pantry, when I did, I was sure to vomit before i could digest it. I didn't have to worry about anyone seeing the fresh gashes lining my hips, the sting of each cut my only tether to reality. I remember spending hours escaping into my computer, browsing the forbidden forums, scrolling through picture after picture after pictures of skeletal frames laced with milk-white skin. I do not blame my parents for leaving me, what other choice did they have? I do not blame myself for my actions, harmful as they have been. But as I sit here, thinking about my empty childhood home, I cant help but feel as though I grew up empty as it did.

today, I bought groceries. A 6 pack of diet coke. 3 chocolate chip cookies. Special K cereal. Skim milk. 2 bowls of microwave pasta. I know realistically that this food cannot sustain me for the next week I will be here, but the little 13 year old's voice yells at me. I cant miss another opprotunity like this one! I almost bought a pack of razors too. But the perks of being an adult now mean I have a reason to stay clean. My boyfriend tearing off my pants to find bloody battlefields covering my hips, thighs, stomach, is not the most sexy thing. And what is staying home alone good for if not secret sex?

[jdgo51]

What Is My One Word?

Today's inspiration comes from:

My One Word

by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen

Editor’s Note: 2023 is in our rear view mirror, so the time has come for us to set our New Year’s resolutions and think about our goals, hopes, and wishes for the year ahead. But as authors Mike Ashcroft and Rachel Olsen remind us in this devotional, becoming the person Christ created us to be requires focus — and for you that might mean zeroing in on one word to guide you through the new year. We hope this devotion inspires you to pick your one word for 2024!

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." — Psalm 90:12

"'I don’t have enough time to live my own life!

I reached this conclusion after trying to follow all the advice given on a morning news show one week in January. It seemed like a smart way to start my day. I figured I’d tune in, get the forecast, learn the headlines, and maybe hear a celebrity interview. I wasn’t expecting all the show segments telling me how to live my life better.

Most of these segments offered the promise of deliverance: “Financial Freedom Is Closer than You Think” or “Four Secrets to Better Communication.” Others, I decided, were designed to scare the socks off of me: “Six Health Risks Every Person Faces” or “Thieves You Cannot See — Avoiding Identity Theft.” Motivated by this combination of hope and fear, I compiled a to-do list of ways to improve my life and its management according to the experts. The more I listened, learned, and listed, the more behind schedule I felt.

The topics on my list ranged from health maintenance to home maintenance to car maintenance. I was informed I need to eat certain foods every day: four veggies, three fruits, two proteins (preferably chicken or fish), and I think a partridge in a pear tree. I also need to get enough fiber, calcium, Vitamin D, B, C, and Beta-something-or-other.

I need thirty minutes of cardio a day (but apparently with the right exercise product this can be done in ten), fifteen minutes of strength training, and ten minutes of stretching. Plus, some extended time for meditation so that my body and mind could align. I’m told a germ-resistant mat is needed for that. I need to bust my stress, nurture my creativity, and improve my posture.

I need to pay attention to my finances. Save and invest. Spend frugally — yet somehow also buy the cool gadgets they review on the show. Apparently extreme couponing is the way to afford it all, but it takes a lot of time to save 80 percent on your grocery bill. I need to check my credit report regularly. Shred important documents. Back up my computer. Meet with my financial planner. And read the information that comes with our kid’s (underfunded) college fund. That, by the way, is forty pages of legal and financial mumbo jumbo in eight-point font, single-spaced. I suppose I need to meet with my attorney to understand it. And that creates two prerequisite tasks to add to the list: find an attorney and find a financial planner. They assume every regular Joe has a CFP, a CPA, and a JD on speed dial. I have Domino’s on mine.

The list continues…

Change my oil every 3,000 miles and my transmission fluid every 30,000. Test my smoke detector batteries biannually. Change my air filters every other month. Replace my toothbrush every three months. Flip my mattress every six. Buy new pillows every three years — I think this is for my posture, but it could be to get rid of dust mites. Check my skin for irregular moles. Check my yard for moles too. Weed and feed the lawn each spring. Grow houseplants to cleanse the air. Save last night’s roasted chicken bones to make my own chicken stock. Buy undervalued international stocks. Sell my stock before it drops. And stock my pantry for possible natural disasters.

Fertilize, amortize, winterize, maximize, scrutinize. Suddenly I realized: I don’t have time to live my life!

PAUSE. My word for the year is PAUSE. In my busy life there are so many times I need to pause. Pause to remember these days, for they will fly by so quickly. Pause to say yes … and no. Pause to give thanks. Pause before I speak in anger, judgment, or criticism. Pause to say I’m sorry. Pause to dwell on God’s goodness and mercy. — Dawn

Looking at the list of things I was supposed to do to live my life right, or well, or whatever all this was going to do for me, I felt defeated. The list that was going to improve my life left me overwhelmed. In my moment of defeat all I wanted to do was go surf. ’Course the list said I should put on a high-SPF sunscreen and take along a BPA-free water bottle to keep me well hydrated. Filled with filtered spring water, of course.

Change is possible.

Dropping the Ball

I’m sure you can relate; you’ve made lists too. Lists of things you want to start doing or stop doing — things you want to change about yourself. Lists of ways to improve your life and your character. Maybe you’ve only listed them in your head. But I bet they come to mind each January. Nearly two-thirds of America’s population has made New Year’s resolutions. I am one of them.

And you’ve probably found, like I’ve found, that each day keeps blurring into the next while we try to make some progress with our many good intentions. Yet very little actually changes. That ball keeps dropping in Times Square each New Year’s. And we keep dropping the ball on our resolutions to improve.

Only 20 percent of resolution makers report achieving any significant long-term change.

When I open my Bible, I find more lists. Things a follower of Christ should do. Things a follower of Christ should resist doing. Traits a follower of Christ should display — all the truly important stuff that never makes it onto morning show segments. When was I going to get to any of this?

I decided to drop my list of ways to get the most out of my life. I realized I needed to find a new way to approach personal change.

Losing the List, Picking a Word

My first journal entry in 2004 was a single word: FLOW. Not merely written on the page, but etched in bubble letters about three-quarters of an inch tall. The letters are heavily outlined, surrounded by a thin border, and colored in gray. It took me about ten minutes to draw and color the word FLOW. But it took three weeks to narrow all that was bubbling up in me down to that single word.

I’d been writing in a journal for years, but here was something I had never done before. Instead of blasting paragraphs on a page to capture my thoughts and insights, recording my steps and setbacks, I decided to meditate on just one word.

I wrote this word FLOW in response to something Jesus said. He said,

Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.— John 7:38 ESV

That struck a nerve.

There were times when I felt the living water flowing with ease from my heart. But there were other times, more times, when it felt forced.

The idea of FLOW drew me forward. It didn’t have the trappings of regret or the pressure of sweeping promises to change like my resolutions did. It awakened something in me. Not a compulsive desire to change born out of being sick of the way I was, but a desire to live an authentic life that flowed from my relationship with Christ.

Could my life really flow from my heart? The question sent me on a search anchored by the four letters of this one word.

If what Jesus said was true — pause for the obvious answer to arise — then I’d need a way to pay attention to my heart on a daily basis.

I decided looking at and concentrating on this word FLOW would remind me to do that. In the months to come, I paid attention to FLOW and used it to gauge my heart and my life. I discovered I could tell the condition of my heart based on what was coming out of it into my life.

And slowly, over time with this word FLOW, I learned to reverse that process. Instead of looking at my life and actions to realize the state of my heart, I proactively addressed the condition of my heart. That changed my life.

In looking through the lens of a single chosen word, I found a new approach to personal change and spiritual formation — one that is doable, memorable, effective, and sticky. The results have been greater than I expected.

FAITHFUL. For twenty-seven years I’ve believed that my plan for my life is superior to God’s plan. My time has been spent pursuing goals, accomplishments, and things I felt I needed to be happy and complete. After twenty-seven years of much external success, I realized I was still personally and emotionally unsatisfied. While driving to work one morning I was listening to K-LOVE, and I heard Mike talk of the One Word concept. That day I decided, for the first time in my life, to focus on God’s plan for my life instead of my own. Handing over the reins has not been easy; in fact, sometimes I’m not sure I have the endurance. So I chose FAITHFUL as my one word, because I’m committed to being faithful to God’s Word and plan. The thought of where things are going is exciting! I’m now being led by the earth’s Creator. — Brian"

Excerpted with permission from My One Word by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen, copyright Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen

[apollo-zero-one]

My parents threw out our couch and brought in a pair of recliners to replace it.

We technically still have a couch but it's always piled high with things and is positioned too close to the TV for my sensory issues, so only my little sister ever sits there.

The kitchen table is in our living room but it is piled high with mail and sewing projects and medication and Things That Must Not Be Moved. The chairs are covered in clothes and fabric and Things That Cannot Be Thrown Out.

My parents each sit in a recliner. My little sister died at her little personal child table. The TV is always on. If I want to join them... I can sit on the floor beside the piles of mess that I am not allowed to touch, or sit on one of the little child-sized chairs I am three times too big for, to watch the shows that I hate, while my stepdad is too zoned into his computer to care and my mom is watching her copaganda shows she loves.

They get mad at me for sitting on the stairs, but it's the closest I can comfortably sit to them. So when I am shooed off the stairs, I go to my room.

This house is not my house. It has been feeling less and less like my house for some time now, but the recliners were really the last straw.

They aren't even comfortable. My parents threw out the couch. There is literally, physically no space for me in the family room. We have no kitchen table. We have no kitchen chairs. I am told not to sit on the stairs. At least they have stopped asking why I take my food up to my room with me.

I resent the recliners and what they represent in my mind. There isn't space for me in this house anymore. Why do you not want me to leave and yet crowd me into a corner? Why are you surprised to never see me anymore when you have taken away the space I used to occupy? I am not allowed to uncover the kitchen table. I am not allowed to carve out my own spot. What am I supposed to do?

I already am living in my bedroom. I have my own little pantry in here because of the ordeal that is the kitchen- I don't know where anything is. When I try to organize it, I'm told it's bad, don't do that, we knew where things were. I didn't. The food is for everyone, except for that, and that, and that. Why do you keep asking permission to eat the food that belongs to everyone? Someone ate the last can of soup and Mom is furious. Eat the leftovers or they'll go bad. No! That was someone's packed lunch! No! We were looking forward to eating that all day and you've gone and eaten it, and you didn't even enjoy it! Why do you bother writing the expiration date on the milk? No one remembers when it was opened and if we did we wouldn't tell you because you need to worry less about things like the milk spoiling.

Anything that belongs to you that we find while cleaning the living room is going into the trash so you had better pull all your things out. You aren't allowed to disturb any of the Very Important Piles and we will be very upset if anything has been moved when we get home. But none of your stuff had better be in them.

Oh yeah we threw out your mail. What was in it? We don't know, didn't look important. Oh you were expecting something? Maybe you should have gotten the mail yourself then. You just woke up and didn't have the chance yet? Why don't you wake up earlier?

Why don't you ever do anything around the house? Don't touch that. Don't mess with that. It would be nice if someone cleaned this living room. No, you may not throw anything away. It would be nice if someone cleaned this kitchen. No, not like that!

I'm taking up less and less and less space and trying more and more and more to earn my place. I'm pulling in and in and in. Why do I contribute so much to groceries that I am too afraid to use most of? When I am mostly eating from the 'snack hoard' that took over my sock drawer? I'm too scared to touch anything in the kitchen and I buy my own cans of peaches that I eat with the same plastic fork I have been rewashing in the bathroom sink for two weeks. No, nothing's wrong.

My ears are tired. I never leave my room when someone else is home because they turn the TV on and talk to me and my ears are tired. I'm tired. I can't deal with everyone. I can't deal with anyone. I am trying to be smaller and quieter and slip through the small spaces that are left. I am trying to get out the door before anyone can ask where I'm going. I'm trying to get from the door back to my room before I'm seen. I'm trying to get back to where I'm safe. Where the space is mine and not a minefield.

Other people's houses have invisible rules. Mine does too. You don't know what your rules are to tell people because they are just normal for you. When did the rules stop making sense? When did the invisible rules become barriers instead of guidelines?

Why did they throw out the couch and then ask me why I don't sit downstairs anymore?

[wendellcapili]

I was in my late 30s—”old” by Gen Z standards when I began working on my Ph.D. at the ANU Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies (RSPAS). During its heyday, it was the top research and postgraduate training center in Australia for studying the Asia Pacific region. It focused on Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, and the Southwest Pacific as its main research areas.

Being an RSPAS student was a unique and memorable experience. The school was renowned for its exceptional faculty, cutting-edge research, and vibrant academic community. Its roster of distinguished faculty members included James J. Fox, Katherine Gibson, Paul Hutchcroft, Robin Jeffrey, Ben Kerkvliet, Brij K. Lal, Sir Anthony Low, Andrew Pawley, Kathryn Robinson, Tessa Morris Suzuki, and Wang Gungwu, to name a few.

One cannot discuss RSPAS without mentioning the iconic Coombs Building, its headquarters. It was named after ANU Chancellor (1968-1976) Herbert Cole Coombs, which consisted of three hexagonal structures connected. Though frequently described as notoriously difficult to navigate, it was expertly crafted by the highly-regarded Mockridge, Stahle, and Mitchell firm from 1960 to 1969.

For RSPAS students, Coombs provided an unparalleled platform for studying. For instance, Ph.D. scholars had their own office, fully equipped with a computer and free Wi-Fi, access to resources of top universities worldwide (I borrowed books and periodicals from US, Japanese, and UK universities through the ANU Chifley and Menzies libraries), book and storage cabinets, study desks, and chairs. During my last year at the university, I was in Coombs, writing and rewriting my dissertation from 11:00 a.m. to 5:30 a.m. Whenever I got hungry, I had access to the pantry with bottomless cookies, coffee, and tea. There are vending machines inside the building. And many coffee shops, canteens, and restaurants nearby. When my brain cells got weary, I walked around Lake Burley Griffin, parts of which are located within the university. Throughout my Ph.D. journey, there were dozens of conferences, seminars, and workshops at Coombs daily, always encouraging professors, younger academic staff, visiting luminaries, and students to engage with each other. Whether one is merely passing through the main lounge for a quick coffee break or bumping into colleagues, every nook and corner of the building provided its denizens with numerous occasions for understanding the diverse literatures, cultures, societies, politics, and economies of the Asia-Pacific region. Over the years, many had graced its corridors, soaking up wisdom and shaping their futures within its iconic walls. Many of my schoolmates fondly remember the countless hours spent studying, engaging in lively debates, and forming lasting friendships in its communal spaces. For me, it was not only a symbol of academic excellence but also a hub of intellectual discourse and collaboration.

However, in 2010, the year after I officially graduated, the ANU made some organizational changes, which affected the status of RSPAS along with other research schools. As a result, a newly formed College of Asia and the Pacific assumed many responsibilities previously held by RSPAS. I was saddened by such restructuring, making me one of the school’s last few graduates. With the new college in place, my old school has ceased to exist. Two years later, UST Elementary School, where I received my primary education, was shut down, too. It hurt deeply when Emeritus Professor Lal, one of my Ph.D. advisers, wrote to me before he passed on—"Our school is no more."

[artmann100]



Fundraiser Update (Tuesday, 11 am)

Fundraiser Update (Tuesday, 11 am)

Hi, Brad here yet again; I thought I would give you all a quick update.

We want to reiterate yet again our gratitude to all of you! While the donations have slowed, they are still trickling in, and we appreciate every donation (all jokes about Happy Meals aside).

We are still not quite out of debt, but the money has us very close to being there! Jess has her computer at the nursing home and has been using the money to pay down our bills right, left, center, and sideways.

With any luck at all, within the next week, our debt to the IRS will be nothing but a bad memory, and our credit rating will be salvaged. While it was not in the original “plan,” we have used some of the money to buy medical supplies and equipment for Jess, to pay some bills and a month’s rent in advance. We also are stocking up on some groceries… the pantry/refrigerator/freezer were all starting to have a distinct “Mother Hubbard’s cupboard” feel to them. In theory at least, we should not have to worry about groceries other than perishables like milk until sometime in November, which will make it that much easier for Jess to relax and concentrate on getting her strength back.

I cannot repeat this enough: all this has only been possible due to the amazing generosity of the people who donated to our fundraiser!

If I could ask one favor to all of you who have not done so yet. Please share our link on your various social media sites, be it Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr or even Myspace! I am still holding out hope for that Gettysburg trip and those Happy Meals! Mmmmm… McDonald’s fries…

[oflgtfol]

man i just had a really freaky dream

so i was at michaels of course i was. except now that i think about it it was kind of merged with my food pantry job because everyone was buying food pantry items but obv it was not a pantry since they were purchasing it, and it was my michaels store and i was very obviously at the michaels registers

im alone on register ringing someone up whos kinda taking a while and then i look up and suddenly the queue is out the whole line area so i call for backup over the phone and then two people came up for backup but they were people i do not recognize like they do not and have never worked here at my store but dream logic said they were just seasonal cashiers thats why

and then.

the computers start shaking. like the monitors tremble back and forth on all six registers. a popup on screen says

“PLAYER [register number].

(a line here that i didnt get the chance to read because i was obviously freaked out but i think i caught the word disconnected)

Please put back all winter items. (paraphrased also)”

the ground was not shaking like this was not an earthquake it was just the computers themselves and i think the lights started flickering also. and everyone started getting freaked out i literally couldnt ring anyone up because the computers had this popup and the customers couldnt see it bc it was just on the cashiers side of the computer, although now that i think about it i have no idea what was being displayed on the customer facing monitor

and it just wouldnt stop shaking it was just really loud the way they were moving and there were just so many people on line that their agitation also got really loud and then everyone looks towards the main doors and starts yelling and even screaming. theres a cop there yelling something but the customers are moving AWAY from her and in the back of my mind sorry im like. Is there a shooter. is that someone dressed as a cop who is about to just open fire on this whole crowd. sorry thats the US american in me. and then two more cops come in and then it turns into a frenzy of everyone trying to get away. we all left out the fucking emergency side door just to get away. no shots were fired so i dont know why everyone was frightened to that extent

so im like ok well im out of here i wanna leave after that im freaked the fuck out and i dont know why everyone was running away but seeing as i was furthest from the front doors im trusting crowd instinct that there was something dangerous there but then im like. my bag is in my locker all the way in the back of the store

i think this was sort of drawing from the pipe bursting incident where my mom was texting me that i cannot leave without my bag because my wallet has my life in it and i was like yeah no shit i fucking know. and that was a burst pipe it wasnt like fatal or outright dangerous. but this time as im standing out in the freezing parking lot at like, just past sunset, watching the customers streaming out of the store im like. i need my bag. i cant leave without it. i felt kinda stupid like what if this is a bad situation what if it IS an active shooter and im prioritizing my bag over my life but then i was like well i literally cannot leave without my bag like physically because my car keys are in my bag so im stranded otherwise

so i head back inside and i see other Red Vests among the crowd showing my coworkers also going back inside. and then i kinda blank on what comes next but the next thing i remember is im sitting in the backseat of my MOMS car with my parents up frront? like theyre driving me home for some reason? despite the previous importance of me needing to drive myself home??

so i catch sight of the store as my dad drives away and its this strange… lighting. it doesnt look like the lights are completely off but theres a weird glow meaning its not completely dark. and i idly wonder what happened w my closing manager like i feel bad for whatever just happened and i was wondering how she was handling it

and so im trying to explain to my mom what happened. she took the shaking to be an earthquake and i was like no. mom it was not an earthquake. i was explaining everything i just did with the shaking being only in the computers and the weird popup message every single computer got at the same time even the ones not in use, when i look up at the now dark sky and its fuckinf GLOWING its like PULSATING its FLICKERING like the sky itself is FLICKERING

and my moms like OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT and i think my last thought was “is this the fucking rapture or something” and thats rhe last thing i remember because i woke up

i was kinda drifting in and out of sleep so i think thats why i was just like. nope im out! and woke up. but that also means this whole dream took place in only ten real life minutes because thats the gap between each of my alarms

[nvertheless]

nights with you — jake’s house

1.3k words.

warning — not proofread and mentions of food!

you quietly prayed to yourself as you stood by jakes doorstep. “you got this queen you’ll just hang out work on your project nothing too serious be a girlboss yn!!!” you thought in your head.

you took a breath before knocking on his door. you suddenly heard a bark come through the door as jake opened the door. he smiled as you saw his big fluffy dog bark at you in excitement.

“hey y/n! layla come on leave her alone.” jake softly said to his dog as he called her to let her let you inside. jake was wearing a white shirt with black sweatpants, he looked really cute.

you walked into his house as he closed the door behind you. his house was pretty big (bigger than yours to say the least) but it was pretty comfy. you took your shoes off as layla started sniffing you and moving around you.

“layla!” you let out a small chuckle before getting down to her level and softly rubbing her fur. jake just looked at the two of you like a proud boyfr- father.

“y/n are you thirsty or anything? we have water, soda and.. juice?” he said before you shook your head. “im okay!” he understood. “we can go to my room then!” he said as you almost froze on your own two feet.

‘i cannot believe this is happening.’

‘thank you ms wang!’

you got up from the floor and followed jake up the stairs into his room. he opened the door to reveal a very.. nice and tidy room? “i was cleaning before you got here so you wouldn’t think i’m a slob or anything.” he shyly said, scratching the back of his neck while chuckling at the last sentence.

“no no don’t worry! i’m a messy person sometimes.” you reassured him as he let out a soft sigh. in his room there was his desk, a bed with a white blanket on top, some pictures of what you assumed was his family and friends, and.. trophies?

you put your backpack down on the floor as you quietly looked around his room. “hey jake, if you don’t mind me asking; what are the trophies for?” you curiously asked. “i used to play soccer! so those are from tournaments.” oh wow.

“you played soccer? that’s really cool!” you happily responded. “i don’t play anymore but thank you!” he shyly said, taking your compliment. you sat on a chair that was near his desk as he sat on the other chair, with layla jumping on his bed to lay down.

you two quietly worked on your project together, listened to music on his computer (which was hooked with speakers) at a low volume, you two didn’t talk much but it was still a comfortable silence that was in his room.

you looked over at jake, who was writing something down on his computer, “wow his side profile is really pretty..” you didn’t realize you were staring at him until he looked at you, you quickly turned your head back at your computer.

jake quietly laughed to himself, seeing the way you turned so fast. you hopefully prayed and thought that he didn’t catch on to what you were doing. it had been over an hour of just comfortable silence before you felt your stomach growl.

you quickly covered your stomach, trying to make the grumbling go away. jake noticed you trying to not make the growling get loud. he laughed, “are you hungry?” he asked. “uh.. yeah i am.” you laughed as he got out of his chair. “i can make you something since i’m also hungry.”

you followed him out of his room with layla trailing behind you two. you were in his kitchen, you sat on a chair as he pulled out a bowl and something from the pantry. “is ramen okay with you?” he asked as you nodded, letting out a small yeah.

as he was making the food you started to think about everything that was happening, jake came into your life as you wished you had been able to talk to him sooner, and you were finally able to have a conversation with him without freaking.

“i don’t know who prayed for this to happen, but thank you.”

jake finished making the ramen as he grabbed two bowls with ramen in them, putting them down at the table. “thanks jake!” you happily said to him as he smiled at you.

you took a bite into your ramen and it tasted so good. your eyes widened as you looked at him. “woah jake this is really good! where did you learn how to make this?” you asked him.

“i learned how to make it from my friend who’s in college, heeseung!” jake explained to you as you ate more of the delicious food. you two ended up talking about anything that came up in your minds.

you felt like you were becoming more closer to him, and it felt really good.

you suddenly looked at your phone, “oh shit! it’s getting late. i should probably head home.” you got up from the table and jake stopped you. “y/n do you want me to drop you off at home? i know you mentioned you took the bus here but i don’t want you to get lost on your way home..” he admitted.

oh my god.

“if you want to!” you said as he nodded. you quickly walked to his room to get your computer and backpack. you walked back to the kitchen to see jake with his shoes and a blue windbreaker on. “you ready?” you nodded.

you put your shoes on and said bye to layla, who was sitting by the door. “bye layla, i’ll see you later!” you kissed her forehead, in which she gave you a kiss on your cheek. you giggled as you got up and walked out of his house.

you got into his car, jake’s car was nicely cleaned and it looked like he just bought it. you put your seatbelt on as jake pulled out of his driveway. “oh wait! can you put your address in my phone?” he handed you his phone as you quickly put your address in it.

throughout the car ride to your house it was once again, silence but it felt nice. he had music play in the background from his phone. you looked out of the window as he drove. your house wasn’t far from his, so it would be easier to get to his house or the other way around.

you two finally pulled up to your driveway. “thanks for driving me home, i really appreciate it!” you thanked him. “no problem! i had fun, even if it was studying, your still a fun person to be around.” he said with a smile on his face, making your face feel hot.

you smiled at him, “well im gonna get going now. i’ll see you on monday?” you asked, flustered. “yeah of course, i’ll see you monday y/n.” jake said. you got out of his car, saying bye to him as you walked to your house.

jake smiled to himself, grabbing his phone and texting jay and sunghoon before pulling out of your driveway and back home.

m.list ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

notes — sorry for the long written chapter </3 but LETS FUCKING GOOOO JAKE!!!!!! you guys are gonna be so shocked on how he finds out yn is the owner of nights w lofi 🤭

♡'ೃ ↳ taglist (open!) @un-flirt @lov3niki @deeznutsriki @enhacolor @nikipedia07 @artstaeh @coffeewon @msxflower @kazuhugs @viagumi @beans-and-jeanes @bubblytaetae @remiee @jayeonnature @kaeslily @blessed-sky @iloveoceaneyes @calumsfringe @kyanmeai @lockburn-castle @leenthepanda @strwberrydinosaur @enhasengene @mqndnolia @wtfhyuck @cwsana @jaxavance

[shgrrushi]

MODERN AU!SASHA, CONNIE, AND JEAN AS YOUR ROOMMATE: RANDOM HEADCANONS

❱ CHARACTERS: Sasha Braus, Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein

❱ CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of food, some swearing

❱ REQUESTED?: Nop

❱ Headcanons for a modern au!Sasha, Connie, and Jean as your roommate!

SASHA BRAUS

You'll often (*cough* always *cough) find her munching on snacks from the pantry, whether it be day old muffins, or uncooked ramen noodles, she'll eat anything she deems tasty.

Sasha's kind of a shit cook, so whenever she tries cooking her own snacks or meals, it always either leads to her almost burning the whole kitchen down, or making garbage food.

You'll find her laying on the kitchen floor, after groaning in defeat and annoyance.

“In my defense, I didn’t know I couldn’t replace butter with petroleum jelly!”

Though she always ends up asking you to cook for her instead, which takes a lot of coercing to do so, but you give in anyways.

Since she's a very messy eater, it's obvious that she leaves crumbs everywhere, yet it's exhausting sometimes, having to clean up all the food crumbs you'd surprisingly find on your bed, behind the TV, and sometimes even in the bathroom.

Honestly, this woman cannot clean up after herself, forcing you to do most of the chores in your shared apartment.

You wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, hell, you even wash her clothes

She's very observant, though. One time when she found you were upset, she took responsibility of doing the house chores for you this time.

You find her standing in front of the sink one day, the clattering of dishes catching your attention. "Hey, Sash, watcha doin'?" You ask, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

Sasha turns around to face you, wearing a wide grin on her face. "I'm washing the dishes! See?" She holds her hands up, clutching a plate, and a...

"... Are you using Windex to clean?"

CONNIE SPRINGER

Connie as a roommate would be pretty hectic 😩.

This man blasts music from his room 24/7, and will never actually turn it down when you tell him to. Prepare noise cancelling pls 😭😭.

Very much broke, so the speakers that he bought for like 5 dollars blast microwave quality music, yet he somehow turns a blind eye and puts music on at 100% volume.

Though he's broke, he'll find ways on how to get money and spend it on video games. That he plays very loudly. Every. Night.

You're honestly wondering how this man even has vocal chords anymore, with the way he yells profanities and complaints into his microphone.

He's bought like a shit ton of games—which aren't even that violent?? Why does he scream??

—Wait though he might be broke because he's spending too much on video games,,,,

Anyway-

Connie greets you every morning with an apology for the night before of him being loud, and with the sight of a messy living room.

Surprise surprise, he doesn't have a computer, so he uses the living room TV to play the games on.

You see cd cases strewn all over the floor, empty energy drink cans struggling to fit inside of the trashcan, and spilled soda on the carpet.

Needless to say, he’d be the one cleaning the house for a whole week.

JEAN KIRSTEIN

He's the type who cries over Taylor Swift songs one night, and then come home drunk, with a couple bruises on his face from bar fights the next night.

(Please ask him how he's doing, most of the time he answers you by sobbing-)

Jean's fashion sense is godly, though will absolutely bother you by stealing clothes from your closet, complaining about how he "can't make up good shit from hand-me-downs at thrift stores".

(Wait but clothes from thrift stores are actually good don't fight me 😩)

You'd just end up using each other's clothes though. Y'alls laundry messed up asf.

One of my friends headcanoned that he's afraid of the dark, so I'd imagine him definitely brushing his teeth together with you, since the bathroom's down the hall from his room, and he doesn't wanna be the one who turns the lights off and get eaten by demons.

Let him be, he's still a growing boy 🙄.

1 AM is his sadboi hour, where he'd blast those emo shit from early 2000s until he falls asleep. Don't interrupt him, he's still stuck in that angsty part of his life.

"WE'RE GOIN' DOWN, DOWN [unintelligible], AND SUGAR WE'RE—" And then comes the sobbing.

"So, Jean, how'd you sleep last night?"

Jean sniffs, eyes puffy. "Great."

❱ NOTE: This is super short so I apologize- 😭

[johannstutt413]

(requested by mathmaticalknight) Ceobe/Saga being hungry doggos together

“Good tidings, Doctor!” Saga entered his office with her usual exuberance. “Thou hast summoned me, so hesitate not in your request.”

He looked up from his computer, amused as usual to hear her speak. “Someone has been stealing food from the cafeteria; I’d like you to apprehend them.”

“Gasp! Our victuals, targeted at their very font? Most troubling, indeed. I shall see to it that the ne’er-do-well understands the severity of their actions, yes.” The Perro nodded to herself and turned to leave-

“One thing, before you go.” She looked back to him. “The thief is Ceobe. Have you met her before?”

The monk blinked. “Kay, a thief? Surely you jest, Doctor.”

“Gummy found her in the pantry yesterday. You seem troubled by that revelation.” The Doctor cocked his head, watching her reactions carefully.

“It is a rather distressing tiding, but worry not, I shall instruct her.” Frowning, Saga left the office to attend to the task at hand. ‘First, to find her…’

Of course, that was the challenging thing - Kay was two things, always hungry and very energetic, so knowing where to find her was usually a game of bloodhound-and-badger…except for today, where the monk found her friend being thrown out the pantry by a combined effort from Gummy and Matterhorn. “Kay!”

“Saga?” Ceobe bounced to her feet and ran to her. “Saga!”

“A moment.”

She held out her hand palm forward, which the other Perro knew was a signal to stop, which was weird. Saga loved giving her hugs. “Hugs?”

“As I said, in a moment.” She did very much want to give her a hug, but discipline came first. “The Doctor informed me that thou hast stolen food from the cafeteria. Hast thou done so?”

“...Yes.” The doggo’s ears sank as she realized her friend agreed she had done a bad thing.

Saga sighed. “Now Kay, as much deliciousness is kept behind those doors is also obtainable through the exchange of currency. Thou must not resort to larceny to satisfy thine baser cravings.”

“But there’s so much food in there!” The Caster pouted. “It’s easier for Kay to get what Kay wants this way.”

“Art thou so certain of that? What if, in thine acts of gluttony, thou lost something else precious to thine self?” A somewhat empty threat, but one the monk knew would send the message.

It took a moment for Ceobe to process, but it scared her immediately after she had. “But Saga-”

“I know thou lovest the many delights procurable from the pantry,” which they had in common, “but thou cannot hold me and the bountiful stores both in thine grasp.”

“Kay…”

Wait, was it possible that- no, patience, she’d make the right decision. “Kay?”

“Kay…” Her stomach rumbled. “Willst thee procur Kay and thou both a lunch?”

“Did- Kay, hast thou not eaten yet today?” That didn’t seem like something she’d do.

The doggo shook her head. “Kay was waiting for thee to eat breakfast together, but Saga left early today, so Kay waited and waited until Kay couldn’t wait any more, and Kay doesn’t have her money with her because it’s in Saga’s room, and Kay doesn’t have a key, and...”

“Oh, I have been a fool!” Saga ran to Ceobe, wrapping her in a hug and spinning them both around as she did. “I didn’t realize I’d caused you such distress! Hast thine hand been forced so frequently?”

“Y-yes, but Kay didn’t know how to tell thee of Kay’s troubles.” All this time with the monk was definitely starting to affect her manner of speech.

At least they could understand each other. “Then after we’ve eaten, I’ll acquire a second key from Dorm Management, and then thou shan’t need to pilfer from the pantry anymore.”

“Yay~” The Caster licked her cheek. “Let’s eat.”

“Yes, let us eat. Lead the way, Kay; I’ll place my order second.”

Both ordered and ate to their hearts’ content - which, granted, took a fair bit, since the doggo burned through calories as fast as she could consume them, and Saga…No one was quite sure how Saga ate the way she did without consequence, but considering her composure and discipline, it was possible she exuded so much positivity it actually used up the carbs. Regardless, they enjoyed a hearty meal together (to the amusement and awe, in various degrees, of the cafeteria staff) and shortly after finishing went hand-in-hand to Dorm Management, and then to the Doctor’s office. “Doctor, Kay hast a matter to discuss with thee.”

“Oh?” He was all ears. Well, not literally, but very interested in how this would go. “What is it, Kay?”

“Kay is sorry for stealing food. Kay forgot Kay’s money in Saga’s room every day, and Kay didn’t have a key to get it. But now! See? Kay has a key!” She flashed the blue card to him proudly.

It was then the Doctor nearly keeled over and off his chair. “Wait, I thought the two of you were close, but are you two…dating?”

“Hmm?” The monk blinked. “Dating? What dost thou refer to, Doctor?”

“Is Doctor talking about snuggle time?” The doggo suggested.

Saga nodded sagely. “Ah, perhaps that’s it.”

“Uh…you know what, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head as his inner self died laughing. “I’m glad you worked things out and will stop stealing. Is there anything I can help you with while you’re here?”

“Umm…Nope! That’s it.”

He looked back at his desktop, noticing five new messages from Amiya. “Alright, then you’re free to go.”

“Okay! Bye Doctor!” Ceobe ran back through the door. “Race thee to thine room, Saga!”

“A race thou shalt have!” Both left, laughing as they did.

The Doctor stared at the still-swinging door. (Swinging? Was it supposed to do that?) ‘I don’t think I ever could have seen this coming…but somehow I can understand Ceobe even better when she talks like that than the way she did before…’

[antebunny]

Wei Wuxian, worst supervillain: part 2

Full series here.

-

“Wen Ning,” Wei Wuxian, with the urgency of a doomed man. “You gotta help me.”

“What’s the problem?” Wen Ning says immediately.

“Absolutely not,” Wen Qing says, without looking up from her book.

She’s sitting comfortably on the single couch in Wei Wuxian’s so-called villain lair. In reality, he couldn’t afford anywhere else, and the Burial Mounds are rent-free and neighborless. She still made Wei Wuxian buy the red couch, and it remains the only splash of color in the whole complex.

Wei Wuxian pauses, his palms still slammed down on the creaking table in the center of the room. Wen Ning continues mixing his tea. “Okay, first off,” he says, mortally offended, “you didn’t even know what I was going to say. And second, I wasn’t even asking you!”

“I’m answering for A-Ning,” Wen Qing says calmly.

“Wen Ning is a free man!” Wei Wuxian argues. “He can make his own decisions!”

“What do you need help with?” Wen Ning intervenes, dragging Wei Wuxian’s attention away from the argument.

“I’m not being taken seriously!” Wei Wuxian wails.

Wen Qing snorts. “Why would I?”

“I didn’t mean you,” Wei Wuxian says, once more mortally offended. “I mean the superheroes! They’re not taking me seriously as a villain! Last time I robbed the national bank, they just sent Lan Zhan, and we didn’t even fight!”

“Right,” Wen Qing says drily. “You just debated philosophy for two hours.”

“He had some interesting points,” Wei Wuxian mutters sulkily. “What was I supposed to do, just not debate him?”

“Yes,” says Wen Qing.

“I can’t just ignore Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian says belligerently. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be concerned? If the superheroes don’t take me seriously, how am I supposed to secure the safety of your family? If I just rescue them the government will never stop hunting them!”

Wen Qing rolls her eyes. “It’s not my fault you chose the stupidest way to go about it. Now both of your siblings are mad at you.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth to retort and then pauses. “Okay, but,” he tries, “it’s too late now! After last Friday–”

“There were easier ways to explain to Meng Yao where he got his psychic powers from,” Wen Qing notes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Both Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning flush bright red.

-

“–the truth, Meng Yao,” the Yiling Patriarch said melodramatically, and his black coat billowed out behind him as he stalked towards Meng Yao.

The young man scrambled backwards over the rubble of the destroyed convenience store, his honey eyes wide with fear at the sight of the masked supervillain loomed over him. He was the communications director for the superheroes before all this happened, but during this fight Wei Wuxian had noticed his fledgling psychic powers and looked at the young man, who happened to look eerily similar to Jin Zixuan, and realized what was going on.

“They never told you what happened to your father,” Wei Wuxian continued, easily cornering Meng Yao.

Back in the Burial Mounds, Wen Ning leaned towards his computer like he could merge into the scene. His fingers flew across the keys, as he suddenly remembered some quote about a father that would be perfect for this situation. If only he could get to his list of villain phrases fast enough–

Wei Wuxian paused as the line flashed in front of his eyes, projected by his mask. Without registering the words, he read it out loud. “I am your father!”

Meng Yao stopped cowering.

The Yiling Patriarch stopped stalking dramatically. “Ah, fuck,” he said, his pointed finger drooping. “Wait–I meant–”

Two superheroes landed on the pile of rubble beside Meng Yao.

“Darth Vader, The Empire Strikes Back,” Hanguang-jun said confidently.

“How are you so fucking stupid,” Sandu Shengshou said, almost wonderingly. Bright purple lightning crackled around his fingertips.

“Shut up, I don’t know you!” The Yiling Patriarch cried. “I meant Jin Guangshan! I meant Jin Guangshan!”

-

“I think Zewu-jun’s handling it,” Wei Wuxian says evasively.

Wen Qing snorts. “Sure.”

“The point is they’re not taking me seriously!” Wei Wuxian insists. “Wen Ning, what can I do to make them take me seriously as a villain?”

“Do something only a villain would do,” Wen Ning suggests.

“Well obviously,” Wei Wuxian says. “But what?” He pulls out the chair across from Wen Ning and plonks himself down in it. They both ponder this question.

“Maybe you could kidnap a hero?” Wen Ning suggests.

Wei Wuxian brightens. “That’s a great idea! But who?”

“Oh my God,” Wen Qing mutters from her comfy seat on the couch.

“Not Jiang Cheng, he’d kill me,” Wei Wuxian muses. He props his chin up with one hand. “And I don’t want to kidnap someone who’d get actually scared…Lan Zhan! Perfect. I’ll kidnap their precious Hanguang-jun. Then they’ll have to take me seriously!”

"Kill me now," Wen Qing groans.

-

When Lan Wangji wakes up to see the Yiling Patriarch looming over him, he thinks he’s still dreaming for one embarrassing moment. He’s glad he recognizes his mistake, or he would’ve said or done something mortifying that he prefers not to think about.

“Good morning, Lan Zhan!” The Yiling Patriarch says, grinning evilly. “You are in the lair of the Yiling Patriarch.”

Lan Wangji sits up. He’s on a soft red couch, wrapped in at least three blankets. Other than that, the large room is rather sparse; the walls are plain stone, as is the floor, save for a threadbare rug on top of which a rickety old table sits, with four chairs of varying styles situated around it.

“How does it feel to know you’ve been kidnapped by your worst enemy?” The Yiling Patriarch says gleefully.

He leans closer, and Lan Wangji swallows, his throat dry. It seems that the Yiling Patriarch forgeos his high-collar black coat when he’s at home. He’s currently wearing a baggy black shirt and black ripped jeans, which means that when Lan Wangji looks up, he’s looking directly at his collarbone, then up at his jawline, and then at the bottom half of his face. As he leans in, his lips curve in a wicked smile, and no, Lan Wangji not thinking about his forearms, or those beautiful, slender hands–

“How does it feel knowing you’ve been rendered powerless?” The Yiling Patriarch continues. His silver eyes track the movement of Lan Wangji’s throat. “Are you uncomfortable?” He asks worriedly. “This place has no heating–you know, free rent, that’s how it is–and I didn’t have anywhere else to put you, but I thought I brought enough blankets. Do you want tea? I can make tea!”

And the Yiling Patriarch bustles off, throwing a “Be right back! Don’t go anywhere!” over his shoulder.

Lan Wangji pushes the blankets off. “I am quite comfortable,” he says to himself. Perhaps he could’ve said it earlier, but he wasn’t going to dissuade the Yiling Patriarch from making him tea.

The Yiling Patriarch returns with two cups of jasmine tea, and invites Lan Wangji to take a seat at his table.

“Sorry about the chairs, they’re kinda falling apart,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “I got them at a yard sale. Well, four different yard sales, so none of them match.”

“It is fine,” Lan Wangji says.

“Right, right.” The Yiling Patriarch clears his throat, and pushes one teacup towards Lan Wangji. “Anyway. I thought it was time I proved my worth as a villain, don’t you think?” He leans back in his chair. One of the chair legs squeaks.

“You could always retire,” Lan Wangji suggests.

The Yiling Patriarch’s casual smile drops. “Not until I’ve done what I set out to do,” he says seriously. He pulls up his villain smile again. “Though I’m sure you heroes must be eager for me to retire, hm?”

“I am worried one day you might be seriously injured,” Lan Wangji replies.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” the Yiling Patriarch says, shaking his head. “The tragedy is not to die, but to be wasted. I have so much–”

“Hannibal Lecter,” says Lan Wangji.

The Yiling Patriarch scowls at him. “Stop doing that. As I was saying, I have so much to do, and so little time on this earth. If I must turn to villany to accomplish my goals, then I will. You cannot debate me into giving up my pursuits.”

“Why must you turn to villainy?” Lan Wangji asks. He drinks his tea. It’s over boiled, but still the best tea he’s ever had.

“Because otherwise, nobody listens,” the Yiling Patriarch says. “You think I didn’t try the proper way first?”

“No doubt you tried,” says Lan Wangji. “Nevertheless: what are your goals? Why do you hide your face? Who are you protecting?”

The Yiling Patriarch slams his teacup down. “You want the truth?” He pauses. “You can’t handle the truth!”

Lan Wangji sips his tea. “Colonel Nathan Jessup, A Few Good Men.”

“Stop doing that!” The Yiling Patriarch cries. He stands up and shakes his finger very threateningly at Lan Wangji. “You seem to have forgotten that you have been kidnapped, Lan Zhan.”

“I have not,” Lan Wangji says. The location leaves something to be desired, but other than that he thinks it’s a very fine first date.

“Then–! Don’t forget who holds the power in this situation!”

“Mhm,” Lan Wangji agrees. He sips his tea again. “Thank you for the tea.”

“O-oh, of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says, thrown. He sits down again. “You seemed like a no sugar type of person.” He pauses. “I mean, if you want sugar, I have some in the pantry. I think. Unless we ran out.”

“No need,” Lan Wangji says. He is, in fact, a no-sugar type of person.

“That’s good,” the Yiling Patriarch says. He smiles at Lan Wangji, who almost smiles back, heart set aflutter by the gentle smile on the Yiling Patriarch’s face.

“What is your plan?” Lan Wangji asks.

“My plan?” The Yiling Patriarch echoes, thrown once more. “I mean, my villainous plan! Uh. The one that I have.”

“Is this all for your image?” Lan Wangji presses.

“Of course,” the Yiling Patriarch says immediately. “You know me. Vanity, definitely my favorite sin.”

“John Milton, The Devil’s Advocate.”

“Shut up! I can’t believe you memorized all these quotes,” the Yiling Patriarch bemoans. “Lan Zhan, you’re ruining all my fun.”

Lan Wangji sips his tea again. “I am quite capable of research.”

“I’ll say,” he mutters.

“It is not too late to turn back,” Lan Wangji says, trying for once to put the turmoil of emotion he feels into his tone. “We can still put old wounds behind us. I can help you.”

The Yiling Patriarch slumps against his table. “Can we?” He asks, subdued. “After all, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.”

“Hannibal Lecter again,” says Lan Wangji.

“Fuck you! Hannibal Lecter is a good villain!” The Yiling Patriarch swells belligerently.

“And you,” Lan Wangji says calmly, “are not a very convincing villain.”

“What do you mean?” The Yiling Patriarch demands. “I kidnapped a hero! Only villains do that!” He sweeps one arm across the situation, gesturing at the hot jasmine tea and the pile of blankets on the couch behind them, and at Lan Wangji, seated primly on the old wooden chair provided for him. “This is a kidnapping!”

“Hm,” Lan Wangji says.

“I am a supervillain!” The Yiling Patriarch insists. “There’s no coming back from that. I destroyed a skyscraper last week. I’ve cost the government too much money for them to ever forgive me. There’s no way for you to redeem me!”

“There is nothing to redeem,” Lan Wangji says sharply.

The Yiling Patriarch flinches. When he stops, his expression is scraped raw. “R-right,” he says shakily. “O-of course–”

“I meant there is nothing to redeem, because you are already good,” Lan Wangji says hurriedly, realizing the misinterpretation of his statement.

The Yiling Patriarch pauses, mouth half open. “Lan Zhan, there’s no way for you to know that,” he croaks. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I do,” Lan Wangji says quietly. “And I don’t need to.” He hesitates, then reaches for the Yiling Patriarch's hand. He grips it tight, and the Yiling Patriarch lets him. “You are good.”

The Yiling Patriarch draws in a shaky breath. “Wei Ying,” he blurts. “Courtesy Wuxian. That’s. My name.”

Lan Wangji can feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. “Wei Ying,” he repeats. “Wei Ying, you are good.”

[nyx-aira]

When two worlds collide (part 2)

A/N: After some reconsideration I decided to make this a series. I'm not entirely sure where I'm heading with this but I got some ideas. The story won't follow canon, at least not 100% so yeah. Also you might look out for some clues because there might be a surprise coming your way. Also huge thank you to @ynscrazylife for suggesting part 2. I guess this can be your gift for hitting 500 followers:)

"In the beginning, when the universe was created there was nothing. No planets, no galaxies, no nothing. This changed with the big bang when six elemental crystals where formed, representing the powers of the universe. Soul, Mind, Power, Time, Space and Reality. You know them but you don't know their story.

These stones created the first inhabitants of the newly born universe.

Magic.

You see magic wasn't always like it is today, a force to aid sorcerers and other magic users, something invisible that's there but also isn't. It wasn't just an energy that allowed the miracles of the universe to happen. Magic, in the beginning, were immortal beings, spirits and entities that ruled over the cosmos. Always in correspondence with the stones, existing together in harmony. They were the guardians of the gifts of the stones, making sure that the rules of the universe were adhered to.

They had free reign over the cosmos. Creating stars and the planets that orbited them. Ice planets, fire planets, planets that were completely covered in water and so many more. They could do whatever they wanted, having been granted unlimited power by the stones to fill the empty universe. They roamed through the cosmos, not bound by any laws or rules, going where they pleased, doing what they wanted. It was chaos, beautiful, horrible chaos. Creation and destruction, beauty and horror, magnificent and terrifying at the same time.

These were the early stages of the universe. It was madness.

As the millenia ticked by the universe evolved and settled down and slowly but surely other life started to develop. As the universe grew and grew and a new era of life dawned, the inhabitants of the old universe started to change.

They adapted to life, changing their purpose from being all powerful entities wandering the cosmos to settling down in a corner of the universe to help aid and adapt the new inhabitants of the new era of life.

But not all of them were happy with this development, settling down, becoming mere shadows of what they were once capable of, so they rebelled.

They did everything they could to make life as difficult as possible, creating black holes, ripping appart planets, torturing the mortal beings that came close to them in any way possible. Wiping out whole civilizations in their rage and anger. Blindly tearing through the universe, creating destruction and death in their wake, furious that some of their siblings would bow to these lesser creatures.

The stones knew they couldn't get rid of them because they were everywhere, the universe was full of magic. In every star, in every planet, in every fibre of the universe there was a spark of magic, of their energy, they were what kept the cosmos intact, alive. They had created these entities to help them control the cosmos but they realised that was not their purpose, had never been their purpose.

It was to bring balance, because when there was light there was always darkness. This clash was destined to happen, finally bringing balance to the universe, in a way that was so tragic that it was almost poetic.

As the stones realised that they talked to the guardians, light and dark, to give them a final task.

Go out, find your purpose, aid those in need or bring chaos to the world, teach your knowledge to the new inhabitants of the world but hold the balance of the cosmos intact. The world has changed, we cannot continue like we did before, we focused so much on the light that we forgot the rising shadows. Go out and create mayhem if that is your calling but be prepared to face off against your siblings who chose another path.

You see how they didn't use the words good and evil? Because nothing per se was good or bad, there was only light and darkness, even in all powerful and immortal beings. The creatures who used their powers made that decision, good or evil. How they perceived the world determined what outcome their actions would bring.

Now what has that to do with anything that happened?

Well, billions of years ago a little planet formed in one corner of the universe. Some would call it a death planet, always changing, it's brutal nature making life impossible for millions of years. It was uninviting, cold, unpredictable. But it was exactly these conditions that attracted the attention of one of our ancient spirits. Settling on the death planet after the big clash, it began to create chaos and in the process created death, destruction and life.

Yes you heard me right, in the process of chaos and madness a new species was created. Not aware of the magic surrounding it for a long, long time they survived just on their instincts and lived unknowingly of the wonders of the cosmos.

The inhabitants of the nearby planets didn't pay them any attention, these death worlders not being deemed worthy enough of their time.

But as time went on some of them discovered the powers of the entity that settled here millenia ago, starting to use it's powers, working not against but with the powerful spirit. Legend even says there was one person who became the personification of the being itself, making a deal to be granted immortality in exchange of fulfilling the beings purpose. They called it the aether, which is ironic if you take into account that's also the name of the reality stone, working with the entity to ensure the balance of the cosmos, the safety of their planet.

And if you're still wondering what these creatures of chaos have to do with anything, you might know them under a different name.

Humanity. "

Looking around the room you looked into the shocked faces of your colleagues, still processing the information they had been told.

After Wanda's breakdown you, Wanda, Monica, Jimmy and Darcy fled the base. Driving for a couple of hours to one of Monica's safehouses you settled down for the time being, going into hiding from S.W.O.R.D, trying to figure out what's next.

Wanda slept the whole drive, being exhausted from the fight and everything that had happened before. Jimmy and Darcy fell asleep in the second hour, fighting sleep but failing. You and Monica were the only ones that stayed awake. Monica driving the car and you, not being able to even think about sleep, your mind racing with what happened the last couple of hours. The bubble around Westview hadn't collapsed, the energy field stayed the same, confirming your theory that someone else was at play here. You just couldn't figure out who and it drove you crazy. Maybe you need some help?

You hadn't talked much on your escape but you knew you owed them an explanation.

That's why you were sitting cramped together in the living room of Monica's safehouse, your friends looking at you as if you had grown a second head.

"Woah." Darcy broke the silence, akwardly shuffling on her chair, still shocked from what you told them.

"That's one way to put it." Was Monica's reaction, more calm than you thought she would be. Jimmy was still comprehending the new information and Wanda was fast asleep on the couch, not having woken up since she fell asleep in the car. You were starting to get worried about her but a voice in your head told you she was fine. Deciding to trust your instinct, which had saved your lives a couple hours ago, you let her sleep.

Getting up from your place one the couch you walked over to Monica who was putting all the equipment you could save on the kitchen table, Darcy powering up the computers and Jimmy sorting the files you managed to steal.

Knowing none of you would get any sleep soon you moved to the kitchen to make some coffee, going through the pantry to get some snacks as well. This was going to be a long night.

[jdgo51]

What Is My One Word?

Today's inspiration comes from:

My One Word

by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen

Editor’s Note: As 2022 comes to a close, the time has come for us to set our New Year’s resolutions and think about our goals, hopes, and wishes for the year ahead. But as authors Mike Ashcroft and Rachel Olsen remind us in this devotional, becoming the person Christ created us to be requires focus — and for you that might mean zeroing in on one word to guide you through the new year. We hope this devotion inspires you to pick your one word for 2023! And, if you’re thinking your one word might be TRUST, we invite you to make 2023 your TRUST YEAR and join The God of the How and When Online Bible Study by Rabbi Jason Sobel and Kathie Lee Gifford.

"So teach us to number our days, that we may present to You a heart of wisdom." — Psalm 90:12

"'I don’t have enough time to live my own life!

I reached this conclusion after trying to follow all the advice given on a morning news show one week in January. It seemed like a smart way to start my day. I figured I’d tune in, get the forecast, learn the headlines, and maybe hear a celebrity interview. I wasn’t expecting all the show segments telling me how to live my life better.

Most of these segments offered the promise of deliverance: “Financial Freedom Is Closer than You Think” or “Four Secrets to Better Communication.” Others, I decided, were designed to scare the socks off of me: “Six Health Risks Every Person Faces” or “Thieves You Cannot See — Avoiding Identity Theft.” Motivated by this combination of hope and fear, I compiled a to-do list of ways to improve my life and its management according to the experts. The more I listened, learned, and listed, the more behind schedule I felt.

The topics on my list ranged from health maintenance to home maintenance to car maintenance. I was informed I need to eat certain foods every day: four veggies, three fruits, two proteins (preferably chicken or fish), and I think a partridge in a pear tree. I also need to get enough fiber, calcium, Vitamin D, B, C, and Beta-something-or-other.

I need thirty minutes of cardio a day (but apparently with the right exercise product this can be done in ten), fifteen minutes of strength training, and ten minutes of stretching. Plus, some extended time for meditation so that my body and mind could align. I’m told a germ-resistant mat is needed for that. I need to bust my stress, nurture my creativity, and improve my posture.

I need to pay attention to my finances. Save and invest. Spend frugally — yet somehow also buy the cool gadgets they review on the show. Apparently extreme couponing is the way to afford it all, but it takes a lot of time to save 80 percent on your grocery bill. I need to check my credit report regularly. Shred important documents. Back up my computer. Meet with my financial planner. And read the information that comes with our kid’s (underfunded) college fund. That, by the way, is forty pages of legal and financial mumbo jumbo in eight-point font, single-spaced. I suppose I need to meet with my attorney to understand it. And that creates two prerequisite tasks to add to the list: find an attorney and find a financial planner. They assume every regular Joe has a CFP, a CPA, and a JD on speed dial. I have Domino’s on mine.

The list continues…

Change my oil every 3,000 miles and my transmission fluid every 30,000. Test my smoke detector batteries biannually. Change my air filters every other month. Replace my toothbrush every three months. Flip my mattress every six. Buy new pillows every three years — I think this is for my posture, but it could be to get rid of dust mites. Check my skin for irregular moles. Check my yard for moles too. Weed and feed the lawn each spring. Grow houseplants to cleanse the air. Save last night’s roasted chicken bones to make my own chicken stock. Buy undervalued international stocks. Sell my stock before it drops. And stock my pantry for possible natural disasters.

Fertilize, amortize, winterize, maximize, scrutinize. Suddenly I realized: I don’t have time to live my life!

PAUSE. My word for the year is PAUSE. In my busy life there are so many times I need to pause. Pause to remember these days, for they will fly by so quickly. Pause to say yes … and no. Pause to give thanks. Pause before I speak in anger, judgment, or criticism. Pause to say I’m sorry. Pause to dwell on God’s goodness and mercy. — Dawn

Looking at the list of things I was supposed to do to live my life right, or well, or whatever all this was going to do for me, I felt defeated. The list that was going to improve my life left me overwhelmed. In my moment of defeat all I wanted to do was go surf. ’Course the list said I should put on a high-SPF sunscreen and take along a BPA-free water bottle to keep me well hydrated. Filled with filtered spring water, of course.

Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.— John 7:38

Dropping the Ball

I’m sure you can relate; you’ve made lists too. Lists of things you want to start doing or stop doing — things you want to change about yourself. Lists of ways to improve your life and your character. Maybe you’ve only listed them in your head. But I bet they come to mind each January. Nearly two-thirds of America’s population has made New Year’s resolutions. I am one of them.

And you’ve probably found, like I’ve found, that each day keeps blurring into the next while we try to make some progress with our many good intentions. Yet very little actually changes. That ball keeps dropping in Times Square each New Year’s. And we keep dropping the ball on our resolutions to improve.

Only 20 percent of resolution makers report achieving any significant long-term change.

When I open my Bible, I find more lists. Things a follower of Christ should do. Things a follower of Christ should resist doing. Traits a follower of Christ should display — all the truly important stuff that never makes it onto morning show segments. When was I going to get to any of this?

I decided to drop my list of ways to get the most out of my life. I realized I needed to find a new way to approach personal change.

Losing the List, Picking a Word

My first journal entry in 2004 was a single word: FLOW. Not merely written on the page, but etched in bubble letters about three-quarters of an inch tall. The letters are heavily outlined, surrounded by a thin border, and colored in gray. It took me about ten minutes to draw and color the word FLOW. But it took three weeks to narrow all that was bubbling up in me down to that single word.

I’d been writing in a journal for years, but here was something I had never done before. Instead of blasting paragraphs on a page to capture my thoughts and insights, recording my steps and setbacks, I decided to meditate on just one word.

I wrote this word FLOW in response to something Jesus said. He said,

Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water’.— John 7:38 ESV

That struck a nerve.

There were times when I felt the living water flowing with ease from my heart. But there were other times, more times, when it felt forced.

The idea of FLOW drew me forward. It didn’t have the trappings of regret or the pressure of sweeping promises to change like my resolutions did. It awakened something in me. Not a compulsive desire to change born out of being sick of the way I was, but a desire to live an authentic life that flowed from my relationship with Christ.

Could my life really flow from my heart? The question sent me on a search anchored by the four letters of this one word.

If what Jesus said was true — pause for the obvious answer to arise — then I’d need a way to pay attention to my heart on a daily basis.

I decided looking at and concentrating on this word FLOW would remind me to do that. In the months to come, I paid attention to FLOW and used it to gauge my heart and my life. I discovered I could tell the condition of my heart based on what was coming out of it into my life.

And slowly, over time with this word FLOW, I learned to reverse that process. Instead of looking at my life and actions to realize the state of my heart, I proactively addressed the condition of my heart. That changed my life.

In looking through the lens of a single chosen word, I found a new approach to personal change and spiritual formation — one that is doable, memorable, effective, and sticky. The results have been greater than I expected.

FAITHFUL. For twenty-seven years I’ve believed that my plan for my life is superior to God’s plan. My time has been spent pursuing goals, accomplishments, and things I felt I needed to be happy and complete. After twenty-seven years of much external success, I realized I was still personally and emotionally unsatisfied. While driving to work one morning I was listening to K-LOVE, and I heard Mike talk of the One Word concept. That day I decided, for the first time in my life, to focus on God’s plan for my life instead of my own. Handing over the reins has not been easy; in fact, sometimes I’m not sure I have the endurance. So I chose FAITHFUL as my one word, because I’m committed to being faithful to God’s Word and plan. The thought of where things are going is exciting! I’m now being led by the earth’s Creator. — Brian Continue reading on the blog...

Excerpted with permission from My One Word by Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen, copyright Mike Ashcraft & Rachel Olsen