#of course I am open to any guidance from people who know more than me

[x22817]

^sock torture initiated

I am putting my foot down (pun intended)

I have been thinking about this for months. Thank you @oleander-sd for inspiring me to try this again.

Hek hates wearing boots. I don't blame her! Her dew claws rub if she wears them for more than 5 minutes. I have tried every trick I have seen or heard on the internet. Over the last few years, we have tried 5 different kinds of booties. Each one either makes her bleed or falls off every few minutes. I have tried wrapping her feet under the booties. I have tried just wrapping the dew claws themselves.

^ not the happiest camper but will do it for the freeze dried chicken and salmon I have. I had to go to the ER in 6° weather, so she didn't have much of a choice

I make her wear them when there is snow/ ice and salt on the ground. During the summer, we just walk on the grass (thankfully, we are in an area where we can do this), or we stay in the shade. In public, we don't typically go places where I have seen a really dire need for them. I know part of that is luck or whatever, but it's true. Why continue to torture ourselves if we don't have to?

This has changed a little with going to the Farmer's Market lately. We haven't come across anything dangerous like broken glass. But we have had to skirt around some fallen food that has been walked on and (as my mother likes to call it) suspicious liquid. Hek gets a full wipe down with puppy wipes when we get home from places like this for these reasons. I don't mind doing this because I am polyautoimmune and don't need those germs.

This is all to say I have avoided working with her and the booties. I feel like there is just no use as we will never find a solution anyway. If we can avoid the problem and haven't had any consequences, then why should I put her through something she doesn't like and hurts her?

I am determined to restart the whole process. I am not waiting for her to get hurt to do this.

Currently, she is just wearing socks. They don't bother her other than that she's not a fan. They don't cause any kind of pain, just discomfort. I think she associates anything on her feet with the pain of wearing the boots in the past. I hope this will help with less negative association. I am going to make her wear them for at least 30 min a day until she shows comfort in them. It takes her about this long to lay down on and go to sleep on her own. I want this to be an immediate thing with no difference with the socks on or off.

Once she has shown they don't bother her, we will try new boots. I am ordering a set of Hi & Light Trail Shoes from Ruffwear to try next. They are made for summer wear and seem to be even lighter than the Grip Trex. I am hoping these factors will make a difference.

When they arrive, we are going to start with the back and then move forward. She's not even wearing them out of the house. We are going to go by the same protocol as the socks. Even if it is only for five minutes to eat dinner (the highest and biggest value treat reward thing I can do on a daily basis).

I am putting my patience and positivity hat on and screwing it on really tight so it doesn't fall off

^25 min after socks were put on today

Happiness, health, and safety are my priorities

[witch-hazels-musings]

hi pls for my crying dragon man monsieur neuvillette

sandalwood ginseng dalmation stone

hugs and kisses

Sandalwood (ceremony), Dalmatian Stone (loyalty, family), Ginsing (communication, guidance) Neuvillette x gn reader | Divination Ritual warning: reader is grabbed by the arm forcefully (very brief), heights (like really high up), kiss on the hand -- this is my first time writing for Neuvillette. I asked people for help on this and *hopefully* he came out alright!

He pulled you from the group with far more force than you expected. "Where is he?" His contorted face held little patience. His tight-lipped smile and frantic eyes conveyed who this event was significant for.

"I'm sure he'll be here any mome-"

"He better. His absence is unbecoming as the Iudex," he said, his grip intense as he stared you down. "I will not be made a fool."

With metered composure, you tapped the man's hand but he didn't release you. "It's very likely he's been delayed by something. If you'll excuse me, I can uncover what has kept him."

The man took a breath, scanned the crowd once more before letting you go. "Be swift about it."

"Of course," you said and bowed your head. He fussed with his overly decorated clothes, finely pressed and perfectly tailored - though it did little to hide the signs of gluttony around his midsection. He sneered at you before walking away to put on a show for the patrons he no doubt invited to this 'celebration.'

---

You made your way through the halls of the Palais Mermonia, stopping at every place the Iudex liked to wander - hide. When he wasn't sitting as judge, or tucked away in his office, there were a few spaces you could always find him, and if not there, then always -

"There you are," you said as you stepped onto the balcony. Though calling it that was generous. It was more of a ledge, one service member would use to clean the massive windows and - now - where Neuvillette would find solace. You didn't blame him. Being up here away from the noise was far more enjoyable than the stuffy halls and formalities.

Neuvillette was slow in registering your presence. His elegant fingers coiled around his chin, his gaze distant as he looked out across lapping waters that surrounded the Courts of Fontaine. When you approached, his apathetic expression shifted with slight surprise.

"Ah, apologies. I did not sense your approach," he said, voice even, calm like steady water. He gazed upward and glanced behind you at the warm light from beyond the turquoise windows. "I've let myself wander too long haven't I?"

You shook your head. "It's alright. As you know the party will rage on with or without you."

"Undoubtedly," he said and looked back to the landscape. You felt bad for him. A cruel existence to be tied to the fate of others - to witness them at their lowest and most vulnerable and render their judgment. It exhausted you just thinking about it but he rarely complained. You wished he would.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you joined him near the edge and looked out over Fontaine. Though heights were not necessarily your favorite thing you had to admit that in the twinkle of twilight, the view from this high seemed to make the world glitter.

"It's beautiful up here," you said and caught a faint smile on his lips.

"I am quite fond of the tranquility and stillness. It allows for a great deal of reflection."

He was right. Being completely alone and away from prying eyes was nice. Almost like a dip in cool water after a day under the sun. You closed your eyes and breathed in the moisture on the wind, the electricity of the evening, and let them mingle on your skin.

Behind you, a swell of voices rose up through the open window and you remembered what awaited you below.

"I should get back. I'll let them down easy so don't worry about joining us."

"That would be improper. I will return with you."

"Stay," you said, stopping him with a gentle hand on his arm. "I can handle them."

"I should not forsake the duties that are asked of me. Though my interests are far more idle than they may approve of, this aspect of my role cannot be forsaken based on personal preferences."

"Neuvillette, this 'celebration' is nothing more than a way to work your favor."

"How foolish. Festivities such as these would never sway my opinion in court," he explained matter-of-factly, his brows furrowing at the thought.

You chuckled. "I know, but it's just - it's how some people operate. They likely know it won't help them when it comes to the law, but there are many reasons to seem friendly to the Ludex. Connections are equally as valuable as coin in this world."

"I see." He thought for a moment. "Then what of you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are your intentions holding ulterior motives?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the hand resting comfortably against his arm. You panicked and pulled it back.

"Oh, no. No! I'm so sorry, I didn't -" You flared out your palms and let out an uncomfortable noise before clearing your throat. "I'm here for you because I like - wah! No. I mean, yes, I like you but like in a way of being supportive and - like, like assisting you with your work. I'm on your side is what I mean to say. Ugh, please stop looking at me." Embarrassed, you covered your face and pressed your fingers against your brow in a desperate attempt to bring your mind under control.

Neuvillette laughed, soft, almost impossible to hear but it was enough to set your ears on fire. "'You like me?'"

"Professionally, I like you, professionally."

"I have spent countless years evaluating the words of humans. Their core truths and hidden lies and, were this be our first encounter, I may not be so confident in my evaluations."

"Forget I said anything, please."

"How can I," he said and you tensed at the sudden contact of his lithe fingers as they pulled your hand away. "When such blatant falsehoods are being uttered in my presence?"

You swallowed, stared into his intense eyes, and willed yourself not to tear free from his grip and jump off the building. This was the worst. An accidental confession to the man who was 1. your boss, and 2. as unavailable as they came. It took you months to get close to him, for him to be comfortable with you and now - now what have you done?

"It slipped out. I'm sorry," you mumbled.

He smiled, kind, patient, understanding. "There is no need. Yet I am proposed now with a conundrum. It seems a balancing of the scales is in order." Neuvillette lifted your hand to his face and sweetly pressed his lips to your middle and index fingers. "I am quite fond of you, as well," he whispered above them but his words were stolen by the wind.

When he lowered your hand toward your chest, he didn't immediately let go. Instead, he let it rest in his grip while you stared, stunned, at his chest.

"Shall we find our way to the celebration?"

You nodded but your lack of movement told another story. "Yeah, yes. We should do that."

Neuvillette's amused laugh fluttered to your ears and rattled your heart, and your legs. "When you are ready."

"Mmhm."

Thaumaturgy Anthology (October 11-13, 2024)

This event is based on spells and rituals. Inspiration does not equal understanding; liberties have been taken. All content is owned by Witch Hazels Musings, theft of these images and stories will result in immediate action.

[queerprayers]

1/2- Sorry if this is a weird ask. You're a person of sincere faith who doesn't judge and I'm desperate for outside opinions. I've recently learned that many modern tarot readers don't believe in divination or spirits, but rather that the images on the cards can help us think about things and bring out deeper ideas from our own subconscious. Zero future telling, only for self reflection. That sounds ok to me, and using the cards for visio divina has done really good things for my prayer life.

2/2- But still I worry- what if the more conservative types are right and all use of the cards is bad? What if it's displeasing to God? I beg and pray but I can't seem to find any peace or inner sense of guidance on the topic. Can you please pray for me, and share any wisdom you might have about this? Thank you so much.

Hello, beloved--I don't think this is weird at all! There's so much fearmongering among Christians about things being Satanic or pagan or whatever else, and it's important to not give into that panic while also taking our faith seriously.

None of the people I know who have been interested in tarot do it as a religious or really even spiritual practice--for most of them, it's been a fun thing, like getting your fortune read at a county fair, and it's not something to "believe in" so much as do and think about. I also know people who, as you said, find it useful for reflection, usually for finding new ways of looking at things. I'm not scared of tarot, and I don't think it's demonic.

Christian history is full of things like opening your Bible to a random page to see what God has in store for you or protecting yourself from evil spirits or saying a certain prayer so that a saint will do something for you. Everyone has these superstitious instincts, to find stories in chance, to not waste the few things that are in our control. I don't think there's inherent evil there--evil comes when we trust these things more than God, when we look in our own actions more than God's, when we think we can know the full story, when we try to pin God down. And I don't think superstition with Christian wrappings is any less superstitious, or any more truthful, to be honest.

A lot of people fearmongering about stuff like this are scared about where it might lead--that you'll end up somewhere chanting around a human sacrifice. And of course there are people who start with harmless religious experiences and end up in evil places--lots of Christians go to a potluck and end up believing in prosperity gospel and putting their kids in conversion therapy. But I don't hear you in danger of abandoning God or of harming anyone. And any religious practice can go too far, no matter how pure its roots. What you bring to the practice makes up most of whether you are reaching out toward God with it, and we can balance it with other traditions and other impulses.

In case someone's using the Bible to scare you: what the Bible tells us about fortune-telling/magic/communing with spirits is from a very specific Ancient Israelite perspective that I'm not qualified to unpack, but we don't find it an applicable worldview today. We have different ideas of how to live in community with other religions, and religious practices serve very different functions. We don't follow Ancient Israelite cultic practices--nor do modern Jewish people, for that matter. Christian practice has developed in the past two millennia in so many directions, and barely any of it would be recognizable to the Biblical authors. I obviously trust that God gave us these writings for a reason, and am not saying to ignore them--we can find useful ideas, but not a rule book.

The tarot deck most people know was created in 1909 by an occult secret society, who used symbols from Christianity and astrology. I think it's misguided to find truth in them as they exist, but neither do I think they're inherently evil--they're archetypes, stories. They're just human. I find occult secret societies generally more silly than demonic--although there is lots of racism/cultural appropriation in their histories. I respect those who avoid tarot based on its origins, just as I respect those who won't do yoga because it's a Hindu practice. But so many things come from non-Christian origins, and we cannot throw away the world if we want to live in community with it. (Yes, we are called to be set apart from the world as Christians, but also to love it--there is the line we must walk.)

There is real Biblical precedent for avoiding a practice associated with things outside of your faith--ancient Israelite religion was very concerned with these associations. Paul did not think meat that had originally been offered to pagan gods was sinful to eat, but basically advised people not to eat it because of how it would affect others or perhaps normalize idol worship. These are things we're continually navigating, and in any Christian community you're gonna have to be clear where your faith lies and probably answer some questions. I think it's a good thing that we're called to be purposeful, and to be aware how our actions affect others.

So my general advice would be to really think about it, to do it all purposefully, paying attention to how it affects your life, relationships, and practice, and whether it's bringing you to the life you know God wants from you (one of love). But this sounds like what you're already doing! I think you care more about this than most people I know, and you're coming to God genuinely--these are gifts.

Prayer is sensory, story-filled, interactive. It's a way of moving through the world. You say this has done good things for your prayer life, and I believe you. Contemplation is a major Christian prayer tradition. Anything can give us a new perspective, anything can shove us toward the truth. You're not causing harm, and neither are you abandoning your faith. There are other people navigating the same things as you--Contemplative Tarot is a book by a Catholic tarot practitioner, and it looks really interesting. I know people who have made their own tarot cards, and I wonder what that would look like with more intentional Christian symbolism/stories, even saints. Sometimes I pick a random prayer card to say--this is coincidence, and while it's not something I'm depending on, it does affect how my day goes.

Don't fall for anything or anyone that claims to know the ultimate truth, don't fall for the people who say that tarot has ancient Egyptian/kabbalah roots, don't fall for people who are just selling you things, don't believe anyone who tells you the truth is inside you if they aren't making clear that it's God that's living there, don't base your entire religious practice on something like this. But don't throw away a way of looking at things if God has led you through it. Don't put your life in the hands of cards, but move through your life with stories and new perspectives and contemplation. God's mercies are new every morning.

I don't know if I've given you peace--maybe just more questions. The good news is, you don't have to figure it all out now, and the bad news is you'll never figure it all out. Religious practice is a continuous dialogue and negotiation with the world. I have faith in you, and in the ways God is moving in your life. Bring Jesus with you, wherever you end up--he'll come regardless, of course, but see it happening. A man with a sword or a cup doesn't know your future, nor is he doing anything--but you know that. You're seeing more of the story, you're contemplating the wonders of God, you know the swords and cups that matter, and they are present with you, and seeing them everywhere is a gift.

Something my mother says before I start anything new, or go anywhere important--what she said when I went to the psych ward, and on the first days of school, and when I go to a protest--is "remember your baptism." I think my grandfather said it to her, too. I don't know whether you've been formally baptized, but remember your calling. Remember the beginning of your journey, and why you're still on it, and how you're being a representative of it. Remember your baptism, whatever that means to you. We have been marked with the cross of Christ forever.

<3 Johanna

[afvall]

whumptober day 7! magic with a cost

Nate's powers do an oopsie, leading to his T.O. getting his flesh as a treat about it! Then him and Wade do gay stuff or something i dont know don't ask me

setting vague because whenever i read a comic all the info i absorb just drops out my ass

--

It pours, man, it pours

--

A thin, metal vein reached across Nathan’s chest from his left shoulder, skin surrounding it blushing a soft red, like flowers in the spring. His reflection in his bedroom’s full body mirror traced its fingers around the intrusion, a sharp pain crashing across his nerves then dulling as he continued the contact along its length. He’d been reckless today, disobeying the tactical and philosophical lessons he’d been taught for his whole life, ever since he was a young child, throwing caution to the wind when Wade had been put in a compromising situation in battle, he didn’t even think about using his psionic powers before they’d neutralised the enemy and gotten Wade to safety. And it was strange, they’d functioned without his command, without any effort even, and mulling it over afterwards, he’d realised it was honestly a bit scary. Without any guidance from him, like his T.O., like how it consumed him devoid of any conscious thought or motivation other than simply to devour. And now, caressing the metal tendril trails across his chest, he’d seen that that unintentional usage of his telekinesis for reasons other than strictly controlling the disease consuming him had let it inch further into his body, and it wouldn’t retreat this time.

This couldn’t happen again. Like an animal, he’d acted without upper thought to ‘save’ Wade, of course, helping out Wade was a good thing, but not when he was without a plan and directionless. Nathan was a master of his mind and body, he’d been in his head his whole life, he knew the ins and outs of himself, he couldn’t understand why his powers, not him, reacted like that to Wade in danger. Of course, he and Wade were close, closer than friends, but to act with reckless abandon to save him in a situation which Wade was most likely competent enough to save himself from? Nate wanted to lock himself in a room to meditate and train for a month straight, and realistically, that wasn’t too out of the question for him. A knock wrapped on the door, Nathan hesitating before he opened it telekinetically. Wade was behind it, waltzing up towards Nate, who also then had to shut the door behind Wade, as the merc either forgot to or didn’t care.

“Can you not ask whatever you need to ask from the door?” Nate asked, hands now at his sides.

“If you didn’t want me in your room so bad, why did you let me in and then shut the door behind me?” Nate didn’t know, much like how he didn’t know why his powers had slipped from his control earlier. “Admiring your awesome tits, priscilla?” Nate feared if Wade gave him a headache with his useless prattling, in that oddly satisfying Demi Moore voice, it would happen again. He sighed and rubbed his temples, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“Where have all your snarky quips gone, Nate?? Usually it takes me a bit more effort to get you to exasperated sighs! Hey, is that metacle, metal tentacle for those not in the know, new, or am I right to not trust my memories?” Wade spoke like how most people thought, in long, semi-senseless sentences, changing topics as he so wished.

“It got a hold on me while I was helping you out on the mission earlier, using my telekinesis…” Nathan wondered how to continue before Wade spoke anyhow.

“Why are you being so vague about it? I can’t believe it’d be because the author has barely read your comics and doesn't know how to be more specific without more research than they’re willing to do right now, I'd never forgive them! And, weren’t you only saving my ass for a second? How’s it already made purchase on you? How come you couldn’t y’know… multitask controlling the T.O. and using your TK like you usually do? Ooo, I love these exposition lead-up questions! Reminds me of all the lovely numbered questions in Cable & Deadpool, sent in by our adoring fans, Nate!” Wade prattled on with no end.

“The T.O. is vicious Wade, it would consume me rapidly without my powers to stave it off. I believe, as I've aged, and it has grown alongside me and gotten used to me and my powers, it’d kill me in minutes. I didn’t think about using my telekinesis, either, it simply took action on its own accord, and didn’t have my guidance keeping it on top of the virus as well.” Nate answered the numbered questions in a numbered fashion.

“Nathan Dayspring Askani’Son Christopher Cable Soldier X Summers not thinking? Does this mean we’ve gotta tag the ao3 upload as ‘OOC’?” Nate knew he’d regret asking what OOC meant, because inquiring into the majority of Wade’s made up words just lead into more confusion usually. He’d save it for another time.

“It was so strange, I didn’t even realise I’d done it for a second, I’ve always considered myself like, well… a well oiled machine, I’ve never felt a disconnect from my actions and mind, and i hate the feeling of it right now.” Nathan explained, looking at himself in the mirror instead of at Wade, 

“I fear that’s where we differ, but also, maybe even where I can help! Maybe all my neurotic behaviours and issues have been leeching off on you Nate, now we’re spending so much time together, but I have experience with feeling that… disconnect… unfortunately, I can't offer solutions, but I can offer coping methods! Not even the ones including pain and death. How about… Ben and Jerrys with some Netflix right now? That might soothe your T.O. aches.” Nathan skimmed Wade’s thoughts and understood a sense of worry, and an undeniable desire to help. He thought now that the fretted comment about his usual quips being absent from the conversation was genuine, and a weird feeling twisted in his chest and pooled in his stomach. Wade was worried about him, and wanted to help him, and it made Nate feel just as weird as the slip of his powers made him feel earlier today, yet in a far nicer way.

“That sounds… nice, thank you, Wade.”

[alientimes]

🀥 ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ… ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ?

➩ Who dyed this guy's hair? (2)

The clock was ticking. In less than thirty minutes, your new roommate would be knocking on that door and there was nothing you could do about it. As much as you would’ve liked to avoid the encounter, it would make a horrible impression if you did. And you feared that maybe a little bit more than you feared talking to people. And you adored impressions so much to the point you forced yourself to organize your room, even though it would be ridiculous for him to take a peek inside. You’d put together your best fit, but for the love of god, you hoped he’d take his shoes off inside the house. You’d look weird if he didn’t, and the amount of dirt you’d have to sweep up would be criminal. Now, you didn’t want to bring it up, of course, but if he did maybe some unspoken judgment and guidance could help him in the right direction. Only if he didn’t. 

You glanced up at the clock, and within your time spent rethinking your life choices, fifteen minutes had passed and now you were down to pacing back and forth, full of anxiety. It made the wait so much worse, but you couldn’t help but glance back to the clock time and time again, and the wait was both nerve-wracking and relieving. You would’ve calmed down if you could’ve, but social standards were so high nowadays you just wanted to impress. Any moment now would the clock hit 2:30 and you would hear the jingling of keys and the door would swing open. You forced yourself to sit down, but even then you had to move, foot rapping against the floor. God it would be so embarrassing if he heard it from outside, if he could. Of course, you still had ten minutes, but in your opinion that was ten minutes too many. Would it hurt for him to be a little late? Five minutes? Ten? An hour? It wasn’t something you’d usually ask for, but now you were praying this guy had a bad sense of time management.

Almost as if on cue, you hear the all-too-telling squeak of the door (you really needed to oil the hinges) and the creak of the floor as he stepped in. You sprung up, almost tripping over yourself as feelings of intense resentment for him rose in your mind. Of course he had to be early. It appears whatever’s listening chose to take a blind eye (or ear) to your prayers, and maybe did the opposite of them instead just for a kick. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

However, despite what you might’ve thought, Sukuna only came early because he was bored out of his mind with nothing else to do, and thought he might as well get set up a little early. It definitely wasn’t planned with even a little spite involved. Absolutely not. He was over that, of course. In fact, he’d never felt spite before! That was ridiculous.

Well, either way, now Sukuna was standing at your (his) doorstep ten minutes earlier than planned. Luckily, he had his keys, and was quick to step inside. It didn’t take long for someone to come bounding (read: trudging) up to him, greeting him with a forced smile. “Hi,” they said. Really, if they were going to force a smile, they should at least try to make their tone a little more convincing. “I’m Y/N. Your new roommate.” Sukuna did a quick glance over you, and couldn’t help but feel you were almost… plain. At least, compared to the people that brat knew. And he didn’t even have to glance to tell he could take you down without a second thought if he needed to. Always good information to know, of course. After a few seconds, Sukuna noticed you were just awkwardly standing around, and so graciously decided he could introduce himself back. “I’m Su-Sebastion, yes. Do you have a room prepared for me, or am I going to have to do it myself?” Whoops, he almost messed up there. He didn’t know what you’d think if he introduced himself by the wrong name. Kick him out? He didn’t have enough money left to afford that. While you calling the police would’ve normally been the easy way out, now that he (painfully has to admit) isn’t anywhere near as strong as he used to be, he certainly wouldn’t be able to take them all out in a fight. You, sure. Maybe even a couple more ridiculous humans. Unfortunately, guns had to be invented, and he can’t regenerate from injuries with reversed curse technique anymore. He checked.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Well, the ‘Su-Sebastian’ part was a bit odd, but you never know what other names people might have. Perhaps he was of another nationality, but had an English name that he went by here in America. You try not to judge. Other than that, he seemed kind of… quiet, which you appreciated. Maybe nonchalant was a better word, or even high, but whatever. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to change that at 2 AM. You’ve had some bad experiences. Still, the thing you most judged him for (it’s really hard not to judge it), was his hair. He kind of gave rich kid vibes (the ‘do you have a room prepared for me’ part was still getting to you), and yet couldn’t afford a good hair job? His bangs were uneven, he had random wisps of hair everywhere, and you could see those untouched roots. You wondered how long it had been since he last dyed his hair.

After a couple of seconds, you similarly realized you unfortunately had to respond. Awkwardly, you told him “Your room’s down the hall. The door’s propped open.” You pointed in its direction, praying you actually remembered to close your door earlier. Well, either way, he would see the amount of stuff you had strewn all over your room, and hopefully avoid it. Maybe your messiness was a good thing (you doubted it)!

After you glanced back at him, desperately hoping he was moving towards the direction of his room so you could escape this suffocating situation (your hopes were shattered when you saw he wasn’t), you noticed he had like, one suitcase. Other than that, no luggage. Like, literally none. He didn’t even have a backpack. You didn’t even bring that little on a two day trip. Burning with curiosity, you asked “Is the rest of your stuff coming tomorrow?” before you could stop yourself. Great, now if he actually didn’t have any stuff you just made him feel horrible. What if he just got disowned by his maybe incredibly rich parents? Think, Y/N, think! However, before you could spiral more, he thankfully just tilted his head and kind of glared down at you. Actually, maybe that isn’t something you should be grateful for.

“...Yeah,” He responded. You silently let out a sigh of relief, trying not to show too much of it. You looked back up at him, and he didn’t seem confused, insulted, or anything. He just seemed like he was searching for the most sensible thing to say (you had a lot of experience in that). Actually, something about him seemed a little off, now that you thought about it. You had just met, but some of his mannerisms seemed weird, like he wasn’t sure how to act. That wasn’t something completely unusual, of course, but it wasn’t in an ‘I’m-not-from-around-here’ way. It was in an ‘I’m-an-old-geezer’ kind of way, but not just an old geezer. An old geezer. Wait, maybe that was mean. You should probably stop thinking that. 

Of course, stopping yourself from thinking that effectively shut down any thought that something just wasn’t quite right about this (tall) man named Sebastian as well.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Was that slang? Sukuna thought that was slang. Really, he did not spend enough time listening to the brat’s conversations to pick up on modern-day slang, and this was even worse (he had spoken about two words to you and almost no slang was used). Now you even had him thinking about luggage. To keep up appearances, he should probably buy some things. Furniture. Decorations. Maybe some of those Jennifer Lawrence posters the brat had up, because surely that was a sensible thing for someone to have in their room. 

Sukuna took a look over to where you had pointed. Sure enough, there was one… two open doors. Handy. Despite this horrible lack of clarification from you (you wouldn’t have survived a day in the Heian era), he rolled his suitcase (handy invention, he had to give you humans that) down the hall. The first door was full of stuff, and from your lack of confirmation about setting up his room, he was forced to assume it was yours. Continuing down the hall, he had the sudden thought that it would be quite inconvenient if he didn’t have a mattress.

He didn’t have a mattress. A strong sense of rage boiled up in him, and he cursed the idiotic designer that made this apartment. Who put in a bed frame with no mattress? Only idiots, of course. That much was clear. “Um…” Sukuna almost jumped at your voice, and cursed himself at that. How could he be scared by some puny human? How dull had his senses gotten? Why did you follow him? Angrily, he turned around, fast enough to see you shrink away slightly at the sight of his face (did you find him ugly? Were you that horrified by him? Why did he care so much about someone’s reaction to his face? He already knew he was worth and looked nothing.). “What do you want?” He demanded, crossing his arms. In turn, you hooked your fingers together, lowering your arms and head. “Uh, Sebastian, right?” (Did you always have to stutter with ums and uhs?) “Do you… not have a mattress?” As if he didn’t feel pathetic enough. What a sorry turn of events. Still, he had to sigh and agree. “Unfortunately, it appears I do not.” You glanced around the room, at what he did not know, before laying your eyes back to him. Or rather, to the floor in front of him. “Would you like… to sleep on the couch? Or, my bed if it’s more comfortable? I can sleep on the couch.” Why did you offer your own bed? Was it intimate? Or were you just stupid? You obviously weren’t truly entertaining the idea of lending your bed to him, but now that you had suggested it, Sukuna wasn’t about to turn you down.

“I must thank you, and I will take up on your offer. I’ll sleep on your bed until I… my mattress arrives.” Don’t try to hide it, he could see that grimace on your face. Human, at least be honest about it. And he could hear that sigh. You should be grateful he pretended not to notice. He supposes he himself should be grateful you don’t protest. After all, it is basically still your home with how little he is moved in. That will switch soon, of course, but he can be courteous.

✦⋆𓆩✧𓆪⋆✦

In a couple hours, Sukuna was settled in, and was chowing down on some of your edible ‘snacks’ (he never ate such things in the Heian era, but that brat certainly did.). You were rushing all around him, muttering something about “Work” and “Stupid night shift” and “No way she invited me to a party knowing I have to work”. Quite disturbing, if you asked him. He watched you apathetically, though found your scurrying about somewhat amusing. It reminded him of a mouse, or a rabbit. Rabbits, he liked the taste of. Mice, not so much, but you could live off them. Some might consider them a delicacy, but they obviously had never tried cannibalism. 

You tugged on your shoes, and he once again found it amusing how you grew practically five centimeters in height. Humans these days. You grabbed your keys (he found himself hoping they were yours, not his. It would be annoying if they weren’t, of course), and unlocked the door, even going so far as to open it before you stopped and scrambled back to him. You held out an odd rectangle, screen flashing brightly. “Here, give me your number so I can contact you if I can’t get back or if I get stuck outside,” you say. Sukuna blinked, pulling back slightly. His number? Were you humans all assigned numbers at birth? Was that how society was done nowadays? “...What?” At his confusion, you seemed confused, which confused him further, and so on and so forth. “Your phone,” you suggested slowly (and infuriatingly). “Give me your phone so I can put my number in, then.” Sukuna could only stare at you, mouth hanging open slightly. Handily, any memory of Itadori using a phone (the few times he actually did) immediately flew from his mind, leaving him with nothing.

What on earth was a phone?

oh my god i did it

im sorry it took so long but 2k words yay!!! im so inconsistent with my work effort i wrote like 400 words on saturday and crammed the rest in today because i wanted to get it done

not entirely happy with the result (?) cuz it's kinda rushed but i hope yall enjoyed!

i hate dialogue so much please i can't

part 1 of Who dyed this guy's hair?

all curses go to earth masterlist

[iwoszareba]

truthbound

Knave/Socothbenoth

cw: questionable use of trickster powers of mind altering variety. (if i'm allowed VtM terms something like incomplete blood bond level of problematic.) also this is love-hate, awful, evil people ship

Socothbenoth's first dialogue was taken directly from the game

_ _ _

'Satisfaction' could not begin to describe how Socothbenoth felt. How can you properly put into words the pure euphoria of seeing your plans, that were years in the making, finally come to fruition?

The look of defeat on Nocticula's face will warm his heart for decades to come. To think that all it took was the right person at the right time for everything to fall into place. That and his invaluable guidance, of course. Helping to make the Crusade a spectacle of madness was an enjoyable diversion but there was nothing more he could gain from it.

"Well, now that everything is decided... I will bid you farewell, Knave. It is time for me to look for a new frien... I mean, someone new and exciting... Someone I can lead astray. I will convince them to join the glorious ranks of fools, jesters, and lovers of funny and vulgar stories! It's been a pleasure! I know you'll miss me!"

That's what he needed: a fresh start. But for now he could just kick back and bask in the afterglow of his accomplishments until it's time to set more goals or readjust the old ones.

"Don't you want to ask if I have a parting gift for you?"

He was already reaching for the door handle but that question stopped him in his tracks. He could just leave. He should just leave. But after all the crazy things this Knave-Commander pulled off… he couldn't deny curiosity. He turned around.

"You got me something? Darling, you shouldn't have. Getting to see you grow from a confused, bloodthirsty puppy, into a distinguished creature of chaos was a gift enough."

He expected to see him as usual: all smiles, craving any scrap of his attention, practically begging. Instead Knave looked at him with an unreadable expression, head slightly tilted as if considering. Somehow that was more concerning than any of his touch too wide grins. Curiosity wasn't worth this.

"Really it's fine… just send whatever it is via messenger, maybe that mangy thief of yours can drop it off at my place when he comes to the Abyss."

He grabbed the handle and pushed but his relief was disturbed by the sharp, electric sound of magic. As he took one step through the doors, a portal brought him face to face with the Commander once again.

"I can't believe you thought you could just leave without my say-so. I would take offence at the rudeness if it wasn't so adorable."

This was not how Socothbenoth imagined this goodbye. Maybe he miscalculated, maybe he shouldn't have implied earlier that they probably will never meet again. He often forgot that some people can get attached so easily. No matter, he can play along for a while more.

"Can you blame me? I am a busy man. Especially now, when you helped to create so many new opportunities for me. Something I'll always be grateful for."

"Tsk tsk, tsk. Liar, liar pants on fire. Do you ever get tired of your own bullshit?"

Socothbenoth opened his mouth but before he could find words to rebuke such insolence Knave continued his little tirade.

"I wonder if there is a single person you have ever been truly loyal to? I doubt you see anyone in your congregation as worthy enough, your lovers are tools to be kept or discarded, the Council was always a sham… you couldn't even keep a semi-decent relation with your own sister."

Mentioning Nocticula in such fashion was a step too far and even now it made Socothbenoth wince. He gritted his teeth and tried not to snarl his next words, but they still came out as an angry hiss.

"Is there a point to this?"

There was a level of smugness to Knave that only people who delight in hitting a nerve can display. Normally an attractive trait, not so much right now.

"I know such things are not in your nature and I don't blame you for that but… I admit it does make me curious. What would happen if I took all the honeyed words you fed me and made them true? Wouldn't that be refreshing? The sense that you said something and actually meant it."

Was that something he could do? Of course Socothbenoth heard the stories of Knave's exploits in Alushinyrra. Changing someone's form was not far from fleshwarping the demon lord would perform himself or teach to his faithful, but while similar in effect, Commander's powers seemed to work under a completely different paradigm. And physical matter still was nothing compared to something as intangible as 'the truth'.

"We can just talk about thi-"

Something deep inside him hummed, as if his very essence started to slightly vibrate awaiting what is going to happen to it next.

"You already talked plenty enough. Mmm what lies have you uttered... Maybe when you said you've been looking for someone exactly like me all these years?"

He was standing still but the sensation escalated to scraping at the back of his skull and squirming inside his chest. Impatient search for remembrance followed by a swift judgement.

"That was the truth! It's not my fault the meaning wasn't quite what you desired."

Knave nodded despite not looking convinced.

"I see, then what about those times you called me special… captivating… irreplaceable?"

The last word was the one that fully did the trick and started to ring at Socothbenoth's core with near-painful veracity. He felt feverish, as if his body was fighting to reject this foreign element, something so at odds with his demonic nature. But it was too late, this… connection has already taken root, strong and true, but twisted by the environment it found itself in. Addictive in its cravings and covetous in its devotion. Socothbenoth started to laugh hard enough that tar-like tears formed in the corners of his black eyes.

"What's so funny to you?"

The look of smug satisfaction on Knave's face was first replaced by confusion and then visible distress. He grabbed his chest as if to check the sensations there. Despite everything Socothbenoth couldn't help but delight in having the upper hand again.

"Oh, I just remembered something else I've said: we were made for each other, you were made for me."

Knave blinked in surprise.

"What? I don't recall anything like that."

Socothbenoth smiled lecherously, closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Knave's waist bringing their bodies together.

"At the time I had you so deep in the throes of passion, no wonder you were a little… distracted."

"...You are lying."

It sounded as half-hearted bargaining of someone not ready to accept the reality.

"Does it feel like a lie?"

Knave was biting his bottom lip in frustration, quite a tantalising sight.

"No. I guess I made sure of that."

It was easy to expect this sentence to be punctuated with an angry groan but what followed instead was a soft rumble of laughter. Knave's next words were barely a whisper.

"It is kind of funny, when you start to think about it."

That was not really the word Socothbenoth would use to describe their situation, but if comedy is in the unexpected… he had to admit that in his long life as a demon lord he has never felt… this, whatever it was. They stood for a while in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, still wrapped in an embrace. Neither seemed willing to release the other but Knave was first to break the strange tranquillity of the moment.

"I still hate you, you know." 

Demon lord faux gasped.

"Shouldn't it be 'I love you more than anything else in this world'?" 

There was a pause for struggle between admission and denial.

"The two aren't mutually exclusive."

The amount of vitriol in his voice was delightful. The Commander was way more exciting like this compared to when he was acting all star-struck.

"I just thought you would be all pliant now."

He purred trying to rile him up more but instead Knave furrowed his eyebrows in consideration.

"I don't… fully understand what I did but I'm fairly sure it's not a compulsion nor geas. I don't have to do anything. And neither do you. If you wish, you are free to leave."

He waved his hand around in a specific but messy gesture and Socothbenoth could tell that the portal in the doors behind them deactivated. Which was a sweet sentiment but he was no longer in a hurry.

"I am a busy man but I may have another moment to spare. Other jesters and madmen will have to wait another day…"

He pulled Knave into a kiss that felt hungry to the point where it made him consider a crazy notion, that perhaps the two of them exchanged a fraction of their souls and would have to tear each other open if they wanted to get them back.

[blackjackkent]

Continuing Rakha adventures! We left off on Thursday after meeting Nine-Fingers Keene, who informed Jaheira that things are more than a little complicated regarding finding her old friend Minsc, by which I mean that she is having him killed for "being the Stone Lord" crimes.

Jaheira is not pleased about this and consequently neither is Rakha, and honestly Rakha would have gladly picked a fight right there in Nine-Fingers' office if Jaheira hadn't stopped her. But the plan is, most definitely, to go find Minsc before Keene's people can get to him.

The quest merely says, "We should search the Guildhall for clues." I know of one clue off the top of my head - a letter to be found in Astele's office - but I'm curious if there are other ways to find out where to go next, so we're gonna ask around a little bit more first.

I first tried out talking to Nine-Fingers without Jaheira in the room, just to see if she'd provide any useful guidance. She didn't, but she did have some OTHER interesting bits of conversation - some relating to the Guild, some relating to Jaheira, and some relating to the plot. (The Jaheira bits are of course of interest to me personally, and also because I am reading all of them in the context of what I have in mind for Fault Lines. XD )

-----

"Keep the Harper out of trouble. Just because I don't want to kill her doesn't mean I won't. Beyond that - be welcome, be merry. Is there something you require of a humble guildmaster?"

-----

"What can I do to help you?"

"Keep me from having to kill the Harper. Which means keeping out of the Guild's way - all right? Wonderful."

-----

"Why do I need the Guild? I've been doing well enough without you so far."

"You have. But don't be so quick to bat away a helping hand. You'll find few enough of them in this city. The Flaming Fist can be bought, the Harpers are scattered, and the Parliament of Peers-- well, they're just generally too inbred to be useful. The Absolute's at our gate, and the Guild are the only ones truly standing against it."

-----

"We're not done discussing Minsc. Call off your ambush."

"No begging? Not even a snotty little 'please'? It's almost like you don't know who you're talking to. The order's been given. It's done. So I hope you know another tune, because I'm getting bored of this one."

-----

"You and Jaheira are an odd pairing. How do you know one another?"

"We've crossed paths over the years. Two hands trying to steer the city - just not *always* in the same direction. I can't stand Harpers as a rule, but Jaheira's the exception. She's only really half a Harper at most. The same way I'm not just the lowly thief, vagabond, and murderer the Watch and Peers would paint me as. I happen to be a fine singer too."

(A/N: I love her, haha. Nine-Fingers is such a fun character.

I was a little scared when I saw this dialogue option, worried that I was going to get something that directly contradicted the story I'm telling in Fault Lines, cos I haven't run across this conversation before. However, luckily, Astele is being pretty vague here; it's a little at angles to some stuff I have in mind, but that is easily explained by the fact that Astele is fully capable of being evasive or flat-out lying to this rando who just wandered into her office. And she most certainly is; her opinion of Jaheira is a lot more complex than she is letting on.)

-----

"How's your fight against the Absolute going?"

"Hah. Which part? The Stone Lord's hollowed this place out; half my crews are fled are in hiding. Orin's Faceless try to pierce my ranks every day, while Gortash's tin soldiers control the streets. When the Absolute's army arrives to wage war on the city, our best hope is to make sure they have no leaders in here willing to open the gates for them."

-----

"I noticed the mercenaries in your hall. Since when does the Guild work with the Zhentarim?"

"We don't. The Zhentarim work *for* me. Time was I'd charge the bastards double if I let them into my hall at all, but times change. The Guild is many things, but it's not an army. If the Absolute keeps pushing in on our territory, then I need a little weight to push back."

-----

"I'd like to know more about the Guild."

"Thieves, frauds, and miscreants - if it's just the Watch warrants you're reading. The Guild isn't any one thing. We're *everything* - all the parts of the city the Watch don't want seen, so they push us to the far side of their law. But it's not that Watch that keeps the peace, or gives justice to any Baldurian who asks, whether they can pay for it or not. It's us. If we take a little tribute in return, or tie strings of service to those we help, well, what of it? So long as we're working as one, it all runs quick, quiet, and clean."

"And what is it the Guild wants?"

"Clean water, filthy riches, and everything in between. We're citizens of the city, no more, no less. Right now, I'll settle for taking our city back."

(A/N: *chef's kiss* :D :D :D)

-----

"I ran into some of your thugs - the Rivington Rats?"

(A/N: Had to look this one up. It's the merc who were helping Arfur try to evict the squatters from his house.)

"Oh? Did you enjoy the encounter?"

"I killed them all."

"Am I supposed to swear vengeance? I heard they'd grown a little... indiscreet. The Rats usually kept a lid on their nastier notions, but with the Stone Lord business distracting me... some are starting to test the leash. All the more reason to be rid of the cult quickly, so I can remind my crews it's not a leash round their necks if they cross me. It's a noose."

----

By far, however, the most interesting bit of conversation with Nine-Fingers is this one.

"How is it you know so much about the Absolute and its leaders?"

"Simple enough. After Jaheira warned me - and then disappeared - I went nosing into the cult for myself. I could bore you with the details. How I found evidence of Gortash's 'projects', traced him to Orin the Red, and made a safe bet there was some dried out old necromancer to round out the three. Because it's always the Dead *bloody* Three - has-been half-gods who can't help but make their irrelevance everyone else's problem."

"There's more to it than just the Dead Three."

"Oh? You've got some juicy little tidbit I haven't heard yet?"

Tell her everything. The enslaved Elder Brain, the Astral Prism - you.

(A/N: This is not actually Durge-specific content, even though it sounds like it. And given Keene's response, it seems reasonable to assume that Rakha isn't actually telling her EVERYTHING - just about the tadpole and the illithid element of the Dead Three's plot.)

"Huh." A pause, then, more seriously, "Huh. It seems like my intelligence on you was patchy at best. That's annoying."

"Annoying? That's it?"

"Don't pout. For a brief second, I did weigh the odds on killing you. But if there's a tainted elder brain slopping around below my city, I think we need one another more than ever. So long as you can keep a lid on what's growing inside you, we're allies. Until you can't and we're not. Simple enough, I reckon. Now - war to be fought. You need anything?"

I love her, your honor.

Honestly I think Rakha would be more intrigued/impressed by her if she weren't threatening to kill Jaheira's friend; she has in the past seemed to gravitate to tough women who have confidence in their own worldview and are willing to beat the shit out of her if necessary. So we will see if her opinion evolves once Minsc is safe.

[basingstokemercury]

Album liner of "Come All Ye Fair And Tender Ladies" (Pernell Roberts, folk/country, 1963).

Transcript below image.

HOW A FOLK SINGER GETS THAT WAY...

by the co-star of the "Bonanza" TV Show

At the age of 32, two and one-half years ago, I bought myself a guitar along with Pete Seeger's instruction book and record. Very painfully, I learned to play - not too well by any means, but enough to chord and accompany myself for folk songs. I can't possibly describe the joy and sense of accomplishment when my fingers finally behaved themselves and formed A, E and B-7. (Then a whole new world opened up with C, F, G-7, A-7, D-7, etc!) I was born again! However, I ran into a problem... if I played Chunk! Chunk! Chunk!, I sang "Chunk! Chunk! Chunk!" What to do? Well, it's like when the tourist came to New York and asked a little old lady, "How do you get to Carnegie Hall?" She replied, "Practice." I did and it's richly rewarding. Aside from acting, the thing I enjoy most is singing and - most of all - folk songs. Of course, next to singing folk songs, listening to folk songs… especially when performed by people like Odetta, Joan Baez, Bob Gibson, Pete Seeger, Jack Elliott, Woody Guthrie, Leadbelly, Big Bill Broonzy, Lightnin' Hopkins, Barbara Dane - and, oh, so many others that it would take the backs of three album jackets just to list them. Although I realize that folk songs, singers and records are exceedingly popular, I know there are also a lot of people who are not familiar with this area of music. I know that most of you who pick up this album will do so because of the television series I'm associated with. But what I'm hoping, more than anything else, is that you also pick up something new in the way of music appreciation. I highly recommend all of John and Alan Lomax's books of folk songs and, most essentially, the folk song magazine "Sing Out." What a rich heritage we all have in this form of music. When I sing a song like Woody Guthrie's Pastures of Plenty, my problems in life seem a bit unimportant compared to the problems of other people. I quickly realize just how un-unique I am, that we all face many problems of daily living, and singing about them seems to make it all a little easier to take. That's why folk songs and folk lore were the basic source of material for this album, and I'd like to thank Steve Sholes for asking me to do it, Neely Plumb for his infinite patience and guidance, Jim Malloy for his engineering seal, Perry Botkin, Jr. for his perceptive arranging "pointing", and last of all - but far from least - Dick Rosmini. Dick, in my opinion, is a talent to be reckoned with. Besides being an extraordinary six or twelve-string guitarist, banjo player and folk singer, he also writes beautiful songs and adaptations, notably - in this album - Alberta and Mary Ann. Richard, thank you for making this such a rewarding and exciting experience! PERNELL ROBERTS

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Daily Devotionals for April 29, 2024

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 15:10-12(KJV): 10 Correction is grievous unto him that forsaketh the way: and he that hateth reproof shall die. 11 Hell and destruction are before the LORD: how much more than the hearts of the children of men? 12 A scorner loveth not one that reproveth him: neither will he go unto the wise. Proverbs 15:10-12(Amp): 10 There is severe discipline for him who forsakes God's way, and he who hates reproof will die (physically, morally, and spiritually). 11 Sheol (the place of the dead) and Abaddon (the abyss, the final place of the accuser Satan) both are before the Lord; how much more than the hearts of the children of men? 12 A scorner has no love for one who rebukes him, neither will he go to the wise (for counsel).

Thought for the Day

Verse 10 - Correction and reproof keep a man on the path of life. Just as a child requires correction to learn the things that will help him grow and mature properly, we all need the correction of our heavenly Father to avoid the things that can destroy us. Notice that the death spoken of is physical, moral, and spiritual. All who are without Christ are spiritually dead, though they do not know it. Only with Christ and by His guidance can we safely journey through this life.

"And you hath he quickened, who were dead in trespasses and sins: Wherein in time past ye walked according to the course of this world, according to the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that now worketh in the children of disobedience: Among whom also we all had our conversation in times past in the lusts of our flesh, fulfilling the desires of the flesh and the mind; and were by nature the children of wrath, even as others. But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, Even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved;)" (Ephesians 2:1-6).

Verse 11 - If hell and the place of the dead are visible to God, how much more are men's hearts visible to Him? We may be able to deceive people into thinking that we are good Christians, but God sees our hearts. If we are not walking in the truth, He knows it. We will reap what we sow. If we belong to Christ, our lives should show it.

Verse 12 - Fools despise correction and their pride keeps them from coming to the wise ones for guidance. Their lusts and desires lead them. If they do not repent and turn to Jesus, their end will be hell. The Lord does not desire that anyone should perish, but because He has given each of us the gift of free will, we choose whom we serve, either God or Satan. We may think we can choose to serve ourselves, but this is not an option. If we serve ourselves, we are serving Satan. God has given us, His children, the task of sharing the Gospel with those around us so that they will have the opportunity to accept Christ as their Savior and escape hell (2 Peter 3:9). May we welcome the Lord's correction so that we will not open the door for Satan to attack us through our rebellion and sin. May we also pray for and witness to the lost so that they may be saved and escape the torments of hell.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Father God, thank you that You are a good Father to me. Deliver me of any rebellion that would cause me to ignore Your leading in my life. Strengthen and help me, so that I will always be an obedient child. I do appreciate Your patience toward me. Give me patience with those around me who do not know You. Let me share the gospel in love with each of them. Thank you, for delivering me from hell. I am grateful for the promise of Your presence with me in this life and the promise of heaven to come. Lord, watch over all of Your children and keep us from evil. I ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen. From: Steven P. Miller @ParkermillerQ,  gatekeeperwatchman.org Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups, Sunday, April 28, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida., USA.  X ... @ParkermillerQ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller, #Eldermiller1981 GROUP: https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA

[galactic-pirates]

Something I don’t see talked about (and yes I know that’s a loaded opening sentence but I have feelings so I’m going to ramble) is how it feels to come to art late.

Like people throw out examples like George Clooney being 40 or something? Or Samuel L Jackson, or you know there are many, of people who came into something older and then were fantastic at it. It’s like a “it’s never too late” reassurance and ok cool, cool, but that doesn’t really help.

I didn’t draw as a kid. I hated art class at school because they didn’t teach. I wouldn’t know how to get the effect I wanted and given no guidance (but plenty of “that’s not what I wanted” criticism). If I found a workaround it was wrong. Like I spent a ridiculous amount of time drawing a model train once by measuring every single line. Best drawing I did as a kid but my teacher told me I was never to do that again as I should spend no more than an hour on the homework.

Part of this was probably being undiagnosed autistic. I need structure and rules and I need to understand. I can’t just experiment how I probably should. So I internalised the “I am not artistic, I have no artistic flair” and I didn’t doodle or decorate. I would be envious of the other kids who did. My notes always looked so boring. We didn’t do art at home. Mum always tells the story of how she was excluded from art class at school for “being a waste of public resources” and so is adamant she can’t draw.

For some reason at 19 I decided I wanted to draw. But again with an undiagnosed autistic need for things to be “right” and obviously any lines I made were ‘wrong’, plus the computer was where I sought answers I fell very quickly into tracing photographs. That was a huge mistake because it taught me nothing and only made it worse if I tried to draw without the crutch - as obviously that was much much worse in comparison.

You see I didn’t have the willingness to draw something awful that little kids have (because to them it isn’t awful) and I judged myself so so harshly. I wanted to draw what I imagined and I found workarounds, like modelling programs to make my own pose references, or smushing multiple references together - I still do this and I absolutely hate it. It doesn’t help but it’s like that bandaid trying to hold a water leak back - it’s better than what I can do without it, so I keep going back for fan events etc. as I feel if I’m gifting someone something it needs to be the best I can do (and merlin knows I am deeply ashamed of what I have posted for past exchanges, 30+ hours or not of effort it was baaaad).

A few years ago I decided enough was enough and I needed to “go back to basics” and get away from the computer. I have got a ridiculous number of courses from places like Udemy/Domestika and enough art supplies to open a small store. I talk a good game - I can sound like I know - but my hand does not.

The problem with the YouTube videos or the courses is these people are skilled - obviously, I mean that’s the point - but sometimes they will show their “old art” from when they were 13 or something and it’s better than what I can do now, or maybe at 9 or something it was about the same but that’s 9 - I’m going to be 34 this year.

I’m still that kid that wants to be told what steps to take. I am still flailing and I still don’t know how best to move forward. Worse I am not a kid and so I feel ashamed I guess. And I’m also alone because there is no actual person I can talk to. I have looked into in person art classes but there’s nothing suitable. I need to find a path forward.

But to circle back to “coming into art late”. I’m 33 and surrounded by so much inspiration (I see art and I so desperately want to be able to make something half that good). But that’s a curated thing because people only post their good stuff (obviously) and so I don’t want to post my shitty stuff so I can’t engage with “art tumblr” or whatever, and I’ve never been good at engaging anyway. I have always felt like an outsider in every community I have tried to join. Plus with fucking AI I don’t want to post my stuff online (although it’s so bad if it did get scraped it would probably act like poison).

So yeah basically flailing and lonely.

It’s deeply demoralising and frustrating. I have never put in the practice time that I should have but that is more to do with my chronic mental health issues than anything - but that then compounds the age problem as I am not 19 any longer. It has been getting on for 15 years - actually I hate putting it like that because then I have to see that I have been wanting to draw for nearly half my life and I have still not managed it. I am still flailing around near the starting line.

Anyway yeah I just feel like nobody talks about being older, and still being shitty at things, and how damn lonely and scary that is. I get majorly stressed out everytime I try and do “serious learning” as I guess it’ll take time and I will be shitty for a lot longer. Maybe there’s also a point here about adulthood and immediate gratification I don’t know. I just know I wish for the impossible to be able to be the child I never was I guess, to start art when people are supposed to - as a kid - and get this stage done and so I can be better. Is that just me wanting to skip the work? Maybe I don’t know.

It’s as I said - I have feelings.

[akilsposts]

In Life, In Sickness and In Death...

There are some people who leave an indelible mark on your life. While it would be futile to say that we as individual entities are the product or handiwork of a single person, it is no stretch to state that there are some people about whom we can confidently affirm, "I wouldn't have been here, if not for them!" Today, I lost one of those people.

At the age of thirty three, when I still have more regrets than any sense of accomplishment, there are still a few things I feel proud about. It is in the accomplishment of these few things that I am most indebted to comrade V. Venugopal. Venu maaman, as he's affectionately called by most of the younger generation whom he brought up with the utmost care, left his mark on me while helping me achieve those few things that I genuinely count as my accomplishments.

I have known Venu maaman for a long time: twenty seven years is how far back I can stretch my memory. However, for long he had remained as someone I only knew and occasionally saw. I knew him as one of the important leaders of SUCI(Communist) and someone who lived in Ambalapuzha, and as someone who brought up a battalion of children. I would also see him at the Children's Camp organised by Prachodana which was held every year during the summer holidays. These camps were memorable affairs, not just in themselves, but also because this battalion of children were there without fail. They were all talented, verbose and most things that I was not. Naturally, I found them fascinating. Looking back, and of course in hindsight, they were my first gateway to the personality that was Venu maaman. Yet, I don't remember having a single conversation with him. That was until I turned 16. In the summer of 2007, my mother 'volunteered' me and my sister for a 'camp' in Kannur. She did not know that it would change our lives forever. (Neither did we). The usual battalion was present. There were a few others too. The one week we spent in Kannur, collecting funds and practicing a street drama which was presented at the farmers' agitation in Wayanad is marked in bold letters in the pages of my mind. The organisation which we became a part of, Komsomol - the league of young communists, became our organisation. It was in the course of formation and development of this organisation that I came to really know Venu maaman. Unlike the Children's Camp, the Komsomol camps and classes were by and large conducted under his direct supervision. It was through these camps and classes that we were inducted into the philosophy of Marxism. Venu maaman used to personally take many of these classes, or used to make the concluding talks for many topics. I found his speeches profoundly enlightening. I did not understand them fully at the time but there have been times later in life when I could see many aspects from his speeches come true. It felt like the future was being predicted. Needless to say, it not only increased my confidence in the philosophy that Venu maaman was trying to impart in us but also my confidence in his leadership. However, most important to me was the sense of belonging that was slowly starting to sprout inside my mind. Till then I had lived my life with a feeling that I did not belong anywhere. The gnawing insecurity had contributed much to the lack of confidence and a weak character. It was through the activities of Komsomol, under the guidance of Venu maaman that I first truly felt that I was in a place that I wanted to be and that I was doing something that I wanted to do.

Nonetheless, being the person that I was, I had to go away and make more mistakes and learn a few things on my own before I could make my way back to Venu maaman and his guidance. For this, I'll always be grateful to comrade Aparna. It took some amount of coaxing and nagging on her part for me to finally approach Venu maaman with my thoughts and concerns. Being a private person who was open with only a few people in life, it was very difficult for me to go to Venu maaman with my problems. Even more unthinkable was the thought of speaking about them. Therefore, I did not do that. Instead, I sent him a letter. He addressed my issues when I visited him later. I repeated this process once more. Later, once when I told him I had something to tell him and that I would write, he insisted that I speak and not write. That was one more odd to surmount but he made sure I did.

Venu maaman was the perfect guide: tailor made for me, or so I would like to believe. He listened to my concerns but did not hand out any solutions. Instead, he laid out an approach and left me to find my own solutions. Again in hindsight, I realise that was an essential process. Handing out solutions would have been easy for him to do but by laying out an approach he was allowing me to chart out my own thought process and make my own mistakes. For someone who was very limited in making decisions on my own, all these were important and essential steps of a process. This continued all the way till he could no longer do it physically. In the meantime, he and comrade C.K. Lukose imparted enough lessons for me to trust the leadership of the party and to develop a dialectical relationship with the organisation.

It was a surprise when the party listed me among the volunteers entrusted to care for Venu maaman when he became bedridden. I did not feel I could do justice to what was being asked of me. However, I am glad that I was chosen because each time I came for my turn, I learned something new. Many of these filled me with wonder and awe, including about his intellectual capacity. Yet, the most beautifully striking thing that stood out for me was that even amidst episodes of memory lapses, each and every thoughts of his were about the party and its well being. In extension, each of his thoughts were for revolution. In sickness, he was imparting important lessons.

Venu maaman's death was not totally unexpected. However undesirable the thought, there was a feeling that it was slowly creeping up on him. He was small in death. His body had emaciated very much. Yet, as he lay there, I was again struck by how death has only served to make him even bigger. There were raw emotions at the loss. There were tears shed for the immense loss the society has suffered. There were lots of people. The old who could barely stand. The young who could not and would not hold their tears. Comrades of many years. Acquaintances few meetings old. The renowned who had shared many a distinguished stage. The poor and the struggling masses who had fought and won under his command. Friends and doubters. Supporters and opponents. They were all united in their conviction that an individual of barely believable qualities had passed away. In death, he was teaching us what boundless love could achieve.

Even as I say this, I am acutely aware of many of the limitations that are holding me back. It would be a lie to say that I have unwaveringly stuck by all that Venu maaman has imparted. I have wavered, at times more than others, but now I can confidently say without any reservations that I am in that place and station in life that I belong. For someone reluctant to show my love, I have seen what I stand to lose by not sharing it. Even more, I realise I simply have to love more and more, and then some more. Of course, I continue to make mistakes but I believe I have a process to fall back on and correct myself. The path ahead is illumined but how I tread it will depend on my realisations. Now that I have looked back, it has made me realise that comrade V. Venugopal has left an even greater mark on me than I had thought. All these have also made me realise that he remains with us, no matter what. In life, in sickness and in death. Red Salute comrade V. Venugopal!

[whentherewerebicycles]

my beloved pups :) period started overnight and I woke up so sad. but I think the one good thing from this bummer of a weekend is that I feel like I’ve reached some clarity about next steps. I want to hold firm to the original boundary I set before starting this process: no IVF, at least in the US. truly zero judgment of anyone else’s choices but having a biological child is not so important to me that I want to mortgage my own future (and my kids’ futures) to it financially. and I’m genuinely interested in and open to fostering to adopt even though I have some nervousness around the idea.

so here’s my plan, because you know I can’t function without a plan:

depending on what my dr says tomorrow, I’ll pursue additional testing if it’s not crazy expensive. if there’s a physical reason IUI can’t work for me I would like to know so I can feel confident I’ve fully tried that option.

assuming there isn’t a physical reason and I just haven’t gotten lucky yet… I have gone through a lot research to try to understand the clinical guidance. I wanted to understand if the “3 failed IUIs = IVF is your only option” advice is based in good science or if it’s one of those things that people repeat to each other because they’ve heard it a lot. (I also wanted to know if it’s one of those things where our culture’s tendency to pathologize and hypermedicalize pushes people towards the invasive high-tech expensive options sooner than necessary). I am not 100% confident in my ability to interpret scientific data so you know, grain of salt but: it does seem like a lot of the studies that recommend the 3 cycle limit are single-clinic studies with small sample sizes. I found a more recent and much larger study that concluded that people who do 6-9 cycles still achieve similar rates of pregnancy as people who do 3-4. so it seems like the drop-off maybe isn’t as precipitous as the internet would have you believe. it’s hard to imagine doing 9 cycles (financially and emotionally) but I think I could do up to six.

I signed up this morning for the foster care licensing course online (in my state you have to be licensed both to foster and to adopt from foster care). I have to complete eight 3-hour sessions plus additional in-person stuff at the end. I want to set a goal of completing one session per week—maybe an hour a night spread over a few nights. I also want to use this process to engage in sustained reflection and writing about my feelings/fears around pursuing parenting by another route. it seems totally normal and expected that I’d have a lot of head/heart-clearing to do before I’m ready to tackle a big life-changing commitment. so I want to begin that work now. I would like to complete the online training by July 15 (and I of course have my own syllabus of secondary readings I want to do too lol). I’ve heard the home study process you have to complete after training can take anywhere from 3-9 months, so starting now will get me moving in that direction but won’t obligate me to make any big decisions for a while yet.

IVF abroad is still a possibility—I budgeted it out for one of the Greece clinics and I think I could do it for $8-9k which includes all travel and lodging costs (not bad if I also get a fun two-week vacation out of it!). but I couldn’t afford to do that financially or PTO-wise until November/December, so I think it makes sense to move forward on other fronts for now and keep that as a back-burner idea I can return to in a couple months.

and lastly: here’s a final emotional thing I want to register. as I expected it might, this process has been stirring up a lot of old buried gender shame, which isn’t specifically about my body but has more to do with that one quote people reblog on tumblr that goes something like I have always been ashamed of being witnessed in the act of wanting what I can’t have. my gender shame has always had so little to do with my gendered body and so much to do with the feeling that people are watching me want to embody something I can’t embody in a way that convinces anyone. I spent so much of my life feeling shut out of girlhood, and even though most of the time I couldn’t decide if I even wanted to be let into girlhood (my feelings are still decidedly mixed!), that feeling of being shut out still kinda fucks you up inside, you know? I feel like I’ve made a lot of peace with that old pain and a lot of progress towards expanding my conception of what being a woman means (as emi koyama puts it in the transfeminist manifesto: there are as many ways of being a woman as there are women). but it makes sense that when you encounter new triggers for old pain it would take a while to kinda recalibrate and find your equilibrium again. right now I want to have a baby—ie I want to do this human thing that our culture associates (strongly, insistently, at times punitively) with “successful” womanhood. and I am so far failing repeatedly to have a baby! I am failing even with the help of medical interventions that are supposed to ramp up my ~insufficiently feminine~ body’s ability to do this thing that “women’s bodies” are supposed to be able to do without help. like, one million scare quotes around ALL of this—this isn’t what I believe in my head but it is the deeply ingrained cultural script that’s been drilled into my heart! so I think a lot of the heaviness I’m feeling around this whole thing is just like, the old pain, the old shame, the old buried humiliation of being witnessed in the act of wanting something I can’t have. and I may need to make a bit more space for myself to do some gentle and compassionate excavating of those ugly, shameful feelings so I can look at them in the light and say: yes, that’s a thought, but it isn’t mine. it never was. it came from somewhere else, a tiny little fragment of cultural shrapnel embedded in my heart. I may never be able to remove it completely but I don’t have to confuse it for part of me and I have the tools now to keep its slow poison from leaching into my blood. I am whole as I am. I am loved as I am; I love myself as I am. I can acknowledge the old bad feelings with compassion, but I don’t ever have to ever go back to that time in my life when I treated shame as the only or truest truth.

[zoeykallus]

Hello Zoey,

I hope above all that your morale is better and that you are doing well?

I saw the last episode of the Bad Batch and I find it too cute the little flirtation between Tech and Phee.

Suddenly I wondered that it could be the sexual orientation of the members of Bad Batch and Rex.

Here is my feeling:

Hunter: Hetero

Wrecker: Gay

Tech: At first I thought no guidance but now Hetero

Echo: I don't know

Crosshair: Hetero

Rex: Gay or Bi

Omega: Leave him his innocence. ☺️

I'm curious to know your feelings?

I send you lots of positive thoughts and you always make exciting fics to read 😍

Aloha!

It's an up and down, but at the moment I am doing okay so far, despite the circumstances. Thank you for asking 😊

Well, to be honest, I never really put a lot of thought into what their sexual orientation is. Okay, aside from automatically assuming they are hetero, which I guess just happens automatically when thinking about beloved characters and being hetero yourself. Okay, maybe not 100% hetero in my case, but yeah.

So, honestly, I think they could be anything. When it comes to writing, I'm open to any suggestion, there is no limit, at least for me when it comes to 'love', or in this case imagination, they are fictional characters after all.

I love to dive in and imagine while writing, but aside from that, I didn't really have an opinion on their orientation.

Being an Afab and identifying myself as female, of course, one of my first instincts is to imagine and write that way, if not asked for something else. But honestly, I'm generally intrigued by the thought of affection between two people, no matter the gender. So, yes, it could be that some of them are gay, bi or what else there is in terms of sexual orientation.

Before Phee showed up and the last episode in particular, I honestly thought Tech would be not really interested in physical contact in terms of intimacy, and canon wise, I was wrong with that assumption... I guess.

Yes, I wrote steamy, dirty things about this guy simply because I adore my goggled genius, but in the back of my mind was always the thought that Tech was more interested in other stimulation with someone he had affection for than sex. But honestly I'm not sure what that's called.... Yes, I'm an idiot in some regards, but I'm fine with that 😋

So no, aside from Tech, I didn't have any deep, preconceived thoughts about the sexual orientation of The Bad Batch or any other clone. Oh, but stop….Fives, if I had to guess, I would absolutely guess that Fives is interested in all genders, and that he has no preconceived opinions or tastes physically either. I think Fives is someone who likes to sweep others along and let himself be swept along. By that I don't mean that he fucks everyone who comes his way, but that he is excited by people who approach him in an open, lively and curious way, that something like that attracts and stimulates him much more than a certain sex or appearance.

But that's just my headcanon, my idea of this fictional character.

Well, I see I wrote a lot more about this topic than I planned to in the first place 😅 Does this answer your question?

[kyzveryown]

K I N G D O M H E A R T S | R E : W O R K S E R I E S DIVERGE: CHI + BACK COVER — The Foretellers, Ava

Ava was the youngest of the Foretellers and, despite her young age, she was adept at magic – even being able to cast grand spells. Still, she was naïve. As a Daybreak native, she lived a mostly sheltered life free of any exposure to darkness. It was hard for her to imagine that a calamity such as the darkness scourge existed, even much less that there were realms beyond the skies of Daybreak. In her eyes, things couldn’t have been as bad as they’d seemed. Ava, like many, was spoiled by the light’s grace. However, that gave her the freedom to be her spunky and cheerful self. Her heart was so pure it was infectious, but that’s what drew people to her, and what allowed her to get close to others.

Having received his request the day prior, Ava ventured to the Master’s chamber. When she arrived, he was deeply engrossed in an alchemic experiment. He was unusually silent, which was a rare occurrence. After finishing up his notes, he turned in his chair then slapped his thighs.

“So, you're curious about the Book of Prophecies, right?”

“Huh? Uh, well, maybe. Is that the reason you asked me to come by?”

“Hmm, yes and no. The Book of Prophecies is a golden trove of information. But unfortunately, that's all it is. It can't prevent catastrophes from happening, and it can't change anything. However,” The Master paused for a second, then wagged his index finger. “Knowledge is key. And with enough knowledge, you can do just about anything ‒ even tip the scales of destiny. So, the Book of Prophecies is a must have! Unfortunately, that's what makes it extremely dangerous. In the hands of someone with dark intentions, they can turn our reality upside down.”

“That’s why you keep the Book hidden?”

“Yeah, it's a bummer though. I don't get to read it at all” the Master pouted, palming his cheek. “Just imagine the kinds of juicy secrets that are in there?! So many things to know like, for example, my face under this hood! The Book knows what I look like! If you were curious enough, you could find out just how dashing and drop-dead handsome I am! Who knows, I could be an Adonis under here!”

Ava frowned. “Uh, Master, what you look like doesn't matter.”

“Huh?” The Master replied in a softened and dejected voice. He lowered his head then whimpered while clutching his chest, “My spirit is broken, and my heart is irreparably damaged.”

“I didn't mean it that way. You're our Master, and we value you and your guidance. So...”

The Master lifted his head for a second, then leapt from the chair to his feet, stroking his chin. “Of course, you do!! I mean, I am amazing. Hehe.”

Ava couldn’t help but frown again.

(Didn’t take long for him to snap out of it…)

“Anyway,” the Master continued, looking down at her. “Having limitless knowledge opens the door to infinite possibilities. And who doesn't want that kind of power? In fact, I can think of one group of dastardly creatures that'd absolutely LOVE to get their hands on it. Care to guess who?”

“Hmm…the Darkness?”

“Bingo!” he nearly shouted. “Like I said, whatever the book records will happen. Well, that is, unless someone comes into possession of it and starts throwing everything out of whack. So, in preparation for that eventuality, I have an mission for you and only you.”

“Uh, me?” Ava asked, confusedly pointing to herself.

“Yes. You might be the only hope of keeping the light from expiring.”

“Light expiring? W-What do you mean? And why me??”

“Because you’re like a light that never stops shining.” He said, then placed his hand on her shoulder. “A little candle whose fire never fades even in darkness. And you’ve got a heart stronger than anyone that I’ve ever come across. Who, better than someone like that to carry on the legacy of the light? Hmm?”

“Uh huh. You’re just trying to butter me up, aren’t you?”

The Master chuckled. He tapped her shoulder then took a step back. “More or less. The fact is, is that you’re the only person I can turn to for such a huge undertaking. The others simply aren’t reliable enough. This is something that you, and only you, can do.”

Ava paused for a moment. On the one hand, knowing he’d had that much faith in herbmade her happy. But on the other hand, the “important mission” he was coaxingbher into didn’t inspire much confidence. After all, she had no idea what the “mission”bwould entail, and she lacked the experience the others had. Still, she couldbsee that he was being sincere. The Master was never one to take serious matters lightly. So, having thought about it, she made up her mind.

“All right, if you say so. What is it that you need me to do?”

“It's simple – forget the notion of unions, find keyblade warriors with potential, and nurture them until they've fully matured ‒ in secret, of course. Then, when the time comes, send them off to another world. They will keep the light alive.”

Ava lowered her head and gripped her robe’s sides. “Are you sure that I’m right person for this?”

The Master gently lifted her head with his hand. “Ava, you're the only person for this. I know you can do it, and I trust you wholeheartedly. If I didn’t have some faith in you, then I wouldn’t have taken you under my wing. So, lighten up. This is your big break.”

“I understand but...you said that the Book falling into the wrong hands is something that could happen. But from the way you’ve been talking, it almost seems like you know something will happen. I-I'm not doubting you or anything! It’s just that…if someone does find the book, then…”

“Let me guess, you want to know what’s inside the Book that’s sooo dangerous, right? Hmm, I guess I could give you a hint. But you have to promise me one thing…” Suddenly, his voice darkened. “Don't get involved in anything going forward – not even squabbles between the others. You hear?”

“O-Okay. I promise.” Ava nodded.

“All right then. Tell me Ava, what is the one thing that people fear the most?”

She thought to herself for a moment. “I guess...the end of life? Or the darkness, maybe?”

“Good choices but no. The answer is rather simple.”

The Master bent down to her level then whispered into the side of her hood.

“It’s the truth.”

[macapacaalpaca]

Hey there! In honor of Thanksgiving in the states, can you tell us three things your MC is grateful for this year? What about their LI?

And if you want to tell us three things your thankful for too, go for it!

Hi! Happy thanksgiving! We don’t celebrate it in Ireland (I wish we did!) but I think it’s such a lovely holiday and hope that everyone who does celebrate has a great day 🧡

My MC is grateful for:

Love. As generic it may seem, she is so grateful for Ethan. He makes her life better just by being in it and there’s nobody else she’d rather have by her side. As well as Ethan, she’s so grateful for the gang and of course her family. They’re a tight knit group and she wouldn’t want it any other way

Jenner! Her favourite golden ball of fur and joy. In my hc he lives with Alan in Providence but they visit often. Ethan always says that Jenner gets even more excited to see MC than him another reason he should be marrying her asap

Coffee. It is what keeps her alive and alert every day after all 😅 But as well as that, it’s one of the first things her and Ethan bonded over. Their first date to the coffee shop was one of the factors that changed their relationship from mentor and mentee to lovers. Now coffee is not only her favourite drink, it’s a chance for her to spend some quiet time with her man whenever they get the chance

Ethan is grateful for:

MC. Of course. The light of his life, the love he never knew he needed until it practically hit him in the face. She changed his entire world, opened his eyes and gave him a new perspective. He’ll always be so grateful for that. And as much as his past self would never have admitted, there is no greater joy in his life than being in love.

The hospital staff. The nurses, doctors, surgeons, physical therapists, cleaners. Everyone who plays a part in such a selfless, difficult career. Edenbrook prides itself in providing the best care for its patients and that would never be possible without wonderful people. Ethan acknowledges and appreciates every single member of staff in the hospital because it could never function without their hard work.

Naveen. His father like figure, his mentor, his best friend. How could he have survived all those years in Edenbrook without him. Much to Naveen’s denial, Ethan knows that he wouldn’t be half the man or doctor he is today without his guidance. Even if he’s retired now, Ethan still admires him as a doctor and I like to think Naveen still calls in sometimes to check on the chief. As well as that, him and MC visit him regularly. Including today to celebrate thanksgiving!

I’m grateful for:

Life, in general, and health. This year has been challenging in terms of my health and although it’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to go through I’m grateful to be alive and to still have the chance to live life to the fullest.

My friends and family. Where would I be without them, I don’t know! Through the hard times and the good ones it’s made me realise just how lucky I am to have the most amazing people in my corner. With my family, when we all come together there’s nothing more special. And of course I’m so grateful for my tumblr family! Everyone who interacts, posts and messages, you keep this community thriving and bring me so much joy. Grateful for every single one of you 🤍

Opportunities. Life is full of them and I’ve really seen that this year. The most important thing is to take them! The opportunities I’ve been given have been one in a million - I mean seriously, who would’ve thought little old me would get the chances to become a published author, work with the department of justice and be invited to join my county’s women’s assembly? Madness, but the best kind!

Thank you so much for this lovely ask! 🥰

[dollycas]

Cozy Wednesday featuring Murder on the Page (A Literary Dining Mystery) by Daryl Wood Gerber #Review / #Giveaway - Great Escapes Book Tour @darylwoodgerber @KensingtonBooks

Welcome to Cozy Wednesday! I am delighted to share my thoughts with you today about Murder on the Page by Daryl Wood Gerber! Murder on the Page (A Literary Dining Mystery) by Daryl Wood Gerber About Murder on the Page Murder on the Page (A Literary Dining Mystery) Cozy Mystery 1st in Series Setting - North Carolina Publisher ‏ : ‎ Kensington Cozies (October 22, 2024) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 336 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1496748174 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1496748171 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B0CTDKHJ4G Featuring twin hooks that cozy readers can’t get enough of—classic books and delicious food—this new series from the Agatha Award-winning, nationally bestselling author of several much loved series, including the Fairy Garden Mysteries and the French Bistro Mysteries, is a delicious treat for mystery lovers, especially fans of Ellery Adams, Krista Davis, and Lauren Elliott. It’s a truth universally acknowledged that a genuinely top-notch party must be in want of a theme. Allie Catt, caterer and personal chef in the beautiful mountain community of Asheville, North Carolina, has devised a winning formula by using her clients’ favorite books as inspiration. Her first themed event is based on Pride and Prejudice (Allie’s cat, Darcy, approves), and it’s so popular that soon she has grand ideas for future parties based on Rebecca, The Great Gatsby, Babette’s Feast and more. Business is booming, and a rival catering company is fuming. But there’s a sting in the tale when the aunt of one of Allie’s clients and best friends, Tegan, is murdered. Tegan is the victim’s sole heir, and quickly becomes the main suspect. Allie has no doubts about her friend’s innocence, but how to prove it? Once again, her love of literature comes to the rescue, and with some guidance from her favorite fictional detectives, including Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes, Allie sifts through the clues. With a little luck—and the kind of pluck that would make Elizabeth Bennett proud—she may be able to stop a killer from serving up a second course of murder . . . Dollycas's Thoughts Ms. Gerber has set this series in Asheville, North Carolina so before I can even start my review I have to state my heart goes out to the people of Asheville and all the others who have been affected by Hurricanes Helene and the terrible aftermath that his hindered getting these people the aid they desperately need. They have a long road ahead and we need to help in any way we can to bring it back to the town described in this book.  Asheville caterer and personal chef Allie Catt escapes into books and hosts book clubs giving her a unique idea for the themes of her parties. She gets her inspiration from her clients' favorite books. Pride and Prejudice is the theme for her first event. With a cat named Darcy, you know the book is a fave of Allie's as well as her client, plus she has a ton of ideas for future parties. Allie's best friend Tegan's Aunt Marigold has hired her to serve a tea at her A Feast for the Eyes bookshop. Marigold is very involved in the community and one of Allie's favorite people but she has been having some spells that worry her family and friends. When Allie arrives at the shop to set up the tea, it is closed with a line of people is waiting to get in. When another employee opens the door, they find Marigold on the floor but this time there is no helping her. Marigold was dead. Tegan appears to be the only heir which puts her at the top of the list of suspects. Allie knows she needs to prove her BFF had no part in her aunt's death. She is going to need a little literary assistance and who better than Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot to help her work through all the clues? _____ With a new series comes a new cast of characters. I appreciate that the author gives us a list at the beginning of the book. It enabled me to escape into the story easily. Allie is a great protagonist, thoughtful and tenacious. She had an unusual upbringing and was devastated by a bad breakup. However, that breakup allowed her to follow her dream. Her best friend Tegan works for her aunt at the bookstore and she is in the middle of a breakup herself. She and Allie have no secrets but she refuses to open up about what is going on. We meet a variety of Asheville residents but it was the victim, Marigold who grabbed my heart and held on tight. She was a special lady in so many ways. I had tears in my eyes while reading the last few pages of this story. Ms. Gerber has written a complex mystery with several suspects. There is friction between Allie and Detective Zach Armstrong as she delves into his case. There was romantic tension there too. Tegan wanted to help investigate but Allie had to reel her in more than once. I enjoyed that Allie didn't give up. I did have an inkling of who the guilty party may be but truthfully I was so caught up in the story and the author's delightful descriptions of all the happenings it really didn't register until the exciting showdown. Daryl Wood Gerber is an awesome storyteller. Her stories set a speedy pace as she blends the mystery with the character's daily lives. She sets up some fine twists and turns of misdirection to rachet up the suspense. Murder on the Page not only has quotes from Pride and Prejudice to start each chapter but there are several Pride and Prejudice Easter Eggs throughout the story which would make Taylor Swift smile. And yes, it would not be a Daryl Wood Gerber book without recipes so if the food in the book tickles your tastebuds all the details to make your own are at the back of the book. With Murder on the Page, Ms. Gerber has set the series off to a fantastic start. The engaging characters, a compelling mystery, and a fun theme, set in a vibrant mountain town with a rich history kept me entertained from beginning to end. I loved this story!  For me, this was more than a Perfect Escape, it was a Trip to Paradise. Look for this book on my Best Reads of 2024. I am so excited for this series to continue. I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. Thank you to Kensington Cozies and NetGalley for providing me with an ARC. Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent About Daryl Wood Gerber Daryl Wood Gerber is the Agatha Award-winning and nationally bestselling author of the Literary Dining Mysteries, the Fairy Garden Mysteries and the Cookbook Nook Mysteries. As Avery Aames, she penned the popular Cheese Shop Mysteries. In addition, Daryl writes suspense including the well-received The Son’s Secret, Girl on the Run, and the popular Aspen Adams suspense novels. Recently Daryl, who loves a challenge, published a Christmas romance, Hope for the Holidays.  Fun Tidbit: as an actress, Daryl appeared in “Murder, She Wrote.” She loves to cook, garden, read, and walk her frisky Goldendoodle. Also she has been known to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. You can learn more on her website: httsp://darylwoodgerber.com Author Links WEBSITE    FACEBOOK       BOOKBUB      YOUTUBE    INSTAGRAM     PINTEREST     GOODREADS     AMAZON    NEWSLETTER Purchase Links  AMAZON    BARNES AND NOBLE     BOOKSHOP.ORG    KOBO      MYSTERIOUS GALAXY Also written by Daryl Wood Gerber  A Holiday Romance by Daryl Wood Gerber The Cookbook Nook Cozy Mysteries Coming March 25, 2025 Find more books by Daryl Wood Gerber here. This post contains affiliate links. If you make a purchase using my links, I will receive a small commission from the sale at no cost to you. Thank you for supporting Escape With Dollycas. TOUR PARTICIPANTS - Please visit all the stops. 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Click Here Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. Receiving a complimentary copy in no way reflected my review of this book. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.” “As an Amazon Associate, I earn a commission from qualifying purchases.” Read the full article