#oliver fog icon

[saruwiya]

꒰⠀ ⠀⠀ ೀ⠀⠀ #RANDOM ⠀⊹⠀⠀⠀୧⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀﹗ ׅ ⠀⠀︵⠀

[timedusts]

.⭒ for @lavendergalactic's 5k event day 4: make a gift for someone who inspires you lots or edit your favourite character with your friend's favourite character.

.⭒ oliver fog icons for @gluttonyedits rrraaa get loved and cherished you goober!!

[yukiexpress]

"You can't catch the fog... the only things you can catch are things that can be caught..."

Oliver Fog pfps! ☆ f2u , don't claim as your own , credit is appreciated but not needed!

୨୧

i just think he's neat :)

- yuki

[juthemagicalclown]

oliver fog is such a legend cause imagine being a teenager and having onesided beef with the spirit of a medieval french knight. iconic.

that's so british of him btw

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Mistletoe | Yuletide🌟

Michael Gavey x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's Christmas plans are scuppered, but a chance encounter lifts his hopes for the New Year.

Content: Fluff, Language.

Yuletide Masterlist

December 15th. The night of the Catton Christmas party in Brasenose College. Term ended a week ago, but the prospect of partying with the university’s hottest boy and his gaggle of gorgeous followers was too delicious to pass up. Freshers to third-years clamoured to rub shoulders with the prime ministers and business men of tomorrow. Any way to get your foot in the door, and maybe some Christmas action too.

The single-pane windows of the old college dorm room rattled to the beat of NOW XMAS, and each time the door opened a pair of drunk undergrads tumbled into the quadrangle.

The latest two, a straw-haired girl in a Juicy Couture tracksuit and a burly boy wearing a rugby polo, stumbled from the old double doors leading to the common room. On their way, between sloppy kiss and over the top giggles, they bumped into a solitary figure.

“Sorry, mate,” the drunk boy said, watching the other young man through alcohol-heavy eyes. The girl beside him eyed the stranger and snorted. “Merry Christmas.”

Hands tucked into his pockets, scarf wrapped neatly around his neck, Michael Gavey stumbled. The pair got no reply, only a cold glance of annoyance as he made for his dorm.

Gold, string-light bulbs decorated Brasenose quadrangle, tacky Christmas trees were perched in various student windows, and the saccharine chorus of Band Aid 20 was shouted from the common room.

Michael didn’t hate Christmas. He quite enjoyed the fuss from his aunties and the jumpers his grandmother bought him. His mum snuck extra roasties onto his plate and his dad made a point to buy him each year’s Telegraph Quiz Book. This year would surely be even better. The pride on his family’s faces, each asking about his first term at Oxford. First one in his family to go to university and he gets into Oxford.

It was precisely because he liked Christmas that this one was so miserable. Michael was neither surprised nor upset when he checked his pigeonhole that morning to see no invitation to the Catton Christmas part. Him and Oliver. A pair of nobodies.

He took the new Nokia his dad got him for his A Levels out of his pocket. No texts. Punching the numbered keys, he sent one to Oliver.

Back at BC. Mince pies and port ready.

The corridor to his dorm room was empty. With the turn of his key, he opened the door. The room was cold. The ancient radiator was ticking into life and the old windows were beginning to fog with condensation. On top of his stack of maths textbooks a bottle of unopened port gleamed.

Turning on his bedside lamp, Michael gathered two dusty glasses his mother insisted he pack with him, and from his Tesco bag produced a pack of mince pies. He placed them on a paper plate and emptied the rest of the carrier bag (wallet, keys, pencil case, workbook) next to the E45 cream and battered copy of GH Hardy’s biography.

The Nokia buzzed aggressively on the table. Removing his scarf, Michael checked the screen. It was from Oliver. He unlocked the phone and checked the small envelope icon.

Something’s come up, sorry.

Michael slumped on the bed. His thumb hovered over the keypad.

Get a better offer, did you?

He deleted the text, locked the screen and threw it on the cheap duvet.

The others would still be at the pub. He could just go back and meet them there. Could, were it not for his pride. It just wasn’t the same, a group of people forced together, as opposed to those who found each other.

The pub was full of his fellow mathematics students. Spotty, eager to please and reeking of desperation to prove themselves. Michael didn’t need to. He watched as they fought for Professor Mathison’s attention, keen to discuss tutorial projects and career prospects. Mathison was already keenly aware of Michael, judging by the way his jaw dropped when Michael recited the Lagrangian form to the last letter.

With Oliver it was different. They were two outsiders, making their way in a world entirely foreign to their own, their intellect their only way in. Now it seemed the friendship Michael was working so hard to cultivate with Oliver was slipping away.  

He stared at the empty glasses. Fuck it. Pouring a little too much port in one of the glasses, Michael stuffed a mince pie into his mouth, grabbed another and made for the door.

The air was crisp, but mild for mid-December. The music of the Catton party across the quadrangle had mellowed, and through the misty windows Michael could make out shapes dancing close together, swaying slowly.

A pang of jealousy twisted in his naval and he twitched awkwardly. He wondered what it would be like, having another body pressed against his. Or rather, to have someone want to be that close to him. His mind flashed to the French girl in tutorial. She’d pressed her leg against his at the pub when Mathison mentioned a partnered project for the new year, and when he’d looked down, he saw her fingers brushing the cuff of his jumper. He’d flinched away.

Everyone was doing it. Quick flings with no regard for consequence. He supposed he could do it too. With the French girl, or the girl with agoraphobia. Lord knows, she was getting as much action as he was. But there was something in his studious nature, his desire for knowledge, that meant he had to be consumed by knowing someone fully, or nothing at all.

Perching his bony bottom on the cold concrete step under an old brick archway, Michael took a gulp of port and began on the mince pie. He took the top off, ate it, and thought of his grandfather, and how he would add brandy butter before replacing the pastry cover. He ate the rest quickly and sipped his port slowly, thinking over the last term. The successes; far and away the best student on the course, and the failures; one (?) friend. It was as he did this that the door behind him opened.

“Shit, sorry! Didn’t see you there!” You hadn’t done anything wrong. Not opened the door on his back or tripped over him. Michael waved his hand noncommittally and without answer. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

He looked up at this. An old grey coat at least a size too big was wrapped around you, a scarf pulled up to your nose and muffling your voice. Michael couldn’t make much of you out, just the eyes peering down at him from above the scarf, but he could tell you were beaming at him. Why?

He gestured to the cold step. You sat beside him, gave him a bright smile that didn’t falter when he stared at you a little too long, and turned to look at the night beyond the small archway.

“Pretty, aren’t they? All the lights?” Michael didn’t respond. He shifted his body slightly away from yours and took another sip of port. You weren’t deterred. “You a Billy-no-mates too then?”

“It’s Norman-no-mates-”

“I don’t think it matters.” You cut him off. “Well?”

Michael turned his face to you. You were still watching the lights but sensed him looking at you. In turn, you looked back at him, unabashed and direct.

“I might have mates waiting inside.”

“You might, but you don’t. You’re out here drinking wine,”

“Port.”

“Port’s just fortified wine. Drinking on your own when everyone’s off partying.”

Michael didn’t blink as he watched you. You weren’t being cruel by making him feel bad for his social ineptitude. Nor were you prying into what it was that made him so deplorable to seemingly everyone in college. No. You were just stating the facts. Michael loved facts.

“NFI.”

“Snap.” You held out your hand and gave him your name. Michael’s heart didn’t leap, but it did give a strange sort of jolt.

“Michael Gavey.” He shook yours and his mouth twitched when you gave him a firm smile.

“What about you? Why are you sitting on a cold step with a stranger?”

“Mate’s back there screaming at her fella cos he necked some girl in Exeter after a Hooch too many.”

“Let me guess, Business Management?”

“The very same.”

There was a contented silence a while. Michael sipped his port and watched you from the corner of his eye. The fingerless gloves you wore were fraying a little. Everything looked second hand. From your slightly battered Mary Janes and baggy jeans to the bag by your feet. Even the scarf still wrapped around your neck. The hair there was bunching under the fabric and a few wisps kept sticking to your lip gloss. Too pretty to be sitting with him, and too rough around the edges to be the usual Catton-fodder.

Michael licked his lips. “What are you reading?” Please be something good.

“Computer Sciences.” Merry fucking Christmas. “You?”

“Maths.”

“Ah, we could have done with you at the pub quiz! ‘How many birds in total are there in the twelve days o-’”

“One-hundred and eighty-four.” Michael rattled off as though the answer was a grocery list. You stared at him, an impressed smile playing at the corner of your mouth. Michael’s heart vaulted that time. He wanted more.

“Ask me anything. I can do any sum.”

You eyed him with barely supressed glee. “Twelve times thirty-one.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two. Come on, ask me something harder.”

“Three-hundred and seventy-two times eight.”

“Harder.”

“Times twenty-three?”

“Harder.”

You almost shouted with excitement. “Three-hundred and seventy-two times forty-seven!”

“Seventeen-thousand, four hundred and eighty-four.”

You giggled and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me,”

Yes please.

A broad flush spread across Michael’s cheeks and he licked his lips again. “I can also-”

“Better check madam is ok,” your eyes indicated behind you as you took you phone from your pocket. The white light from the small screen was garish amongst the soft golds of the Christmas lights, and Michael’s heart sank as he watched you scroll through your contacts list. So many names. He’d give anything to be among.

He didn’t pay attention to anything you were saying as you chatted to your friend. The shine of your lip gloss beneath the fairy lights was too mesmerising. Michael raised his port glass to his lips, took a sip and let the glass linger there as you ended your call. He was entranced.

“Love you, mate. Alright, chat tomorrow.” You sighed as you hung up and looked at Michael. “Home for me, I think.”

As you stood, Michael did too, pulling his trousers up and tucking his hands into his pockets. “Nice to meet you, Michael.” You shook his free hand again and took the port from the other. He watched, agog, as you downed it in one. “Graham’s? Very nice.” You passed him the empty glass and began making your way to the end of the archway. He followed you like a shadow.

At the end of the passageway into the old quadrangle you turned to face him. “What are you doing for Christmas, Michael?”

“Home,” his voice was unnaturally high and he coughed. “Home, to see family but not much else.”

“And new year?”

“Seeing some boring old school friends then back here before term st-starts-starts,” you were leaning towards him. With no hint of shyness, and perhaps a little too forcefully, you kissed him. You pulled back, smiling.

“What was that for?” The surprise of your lips on his made him shout, and it sounded more hysterical than genuine shock and curiosity.

“Mistletoe,” you stated simply, pointing at the small poesy hanging from the archway.

Michael coughed. “Of course, yeah. Thank you.” He made an odd movement and almost clicked his heels. You laughed again, turning into the dark night.

“See you in the new year, Michael.” Your voice echoed off the old stone walls. Just as Michael expected, you sounded so certain. In all your ten minutes of knowing each other, he’d learned that about you. The statement wasn’t speculation or conjecture. It was a fact. Michael loved facts.

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope it's been a kind and calm one. H x

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

[besaya-glantaya]

Thoughts on Alex being wrong and loving it

Red White and Royal Blue (2023 movie)

Remember the little quip Henry makes about admiring Alex's willingness to admit when he's wrong? It's such a great moment of foreshadowing, especially since Henry has no idea just how right he is.

Alex prizes himself on being someone who is skilled at reading people, at seeing the person beneath the surface, but he's never come across anyone quite like Henry before.

Alex must be used to people hiding who they truly are - he's been steeped in American politics for years - but he probably isn't expecting anyone from such a legacy of historic power and entitlement to be, at their core, an actual cinnamon roll.

Their initial meeting also comes at a time in Henry's life when any chink in his armour reveals only pain and anger, leading Alex to assume that what lies behind the carefully controlled façade isn't pleasant.

This assumption is only reinforced by further antagonistic interactions, fuelled by Henry's attempts to balance civility while protecting his heart as Alex consistently pulls Henry's metaphorical pigtails.

The fallout from cakegate forces them into extended periods of proximity and we see Alex start to glimpse pieces of the real Henry beneath his bland public persona. Each further piece that's revealed surprises and delights Alex and it's a joy to watch Taylor Zakhar Perez bring those moments to life.

Allow me to ramble about some of these:

1. Alex's pause of panic followed by surprised relief as Henry suavely responds to the interview question, "How did you end up on the floor of Buckingham Palace, covered in cake?" Alex's relief is two fold: he was floundering with no idea what to say (shouldn't have rebuffed Henry's request to prepare for this interview, Alex...) and Henry's answer is not at all what Alex was expecting. Henry could easily have attributed the event to clumsiness or tomfoolery on Alex's part - even just by subtle implication. That wouldn't have been out of line with some of Alex's answers (e.g., "Three words to describe Henry? Um... White, blond and British.") but Henry chooses a more protective route, deflecting attention from Alex, which comes as a pleasant surprise. [Of course he can't show this, so instead retaliates with something as annoying as possible. Cue side eye from Henry.]

2. Alex's big-eyed expression of sympathy as Henry tells him the Palace insisted on parading him around while he was grieving for his father. It's the key moment Alex realises he's built a lot of assumptions on a misunderstanding and has probably treated Henry rather unfairly.

3. Alex frowning at Henry talking and laughing with the little girl in the hospital bed. He's seeing Henry through a new lens and realises this picture doesn’t fit with a lot of his previous assumptions.

4. Alex shaking his head at Henry's joking attempt to decline an invite to his NYE party that most people would kill to get. "That's perfect, you kill me and then I won't have to go." It's the first time Henry uses his sharp wit to share a joke with Alex, rather than directing it at him in a fit of pique. It's an olive branch and I don't think Alex was expecting such easy forgiveness.

5. The sublime series of text based interactions where Alex is surprised and charmed by Henry flirting (under the guise of gentle ridicule).

6. The iconic "I can't believe how wrong I was about you," while he and Henry are as close as two people can get.

7. My all time favourite: Alex's reaction to Henry pointing out the yellow roses on his tie. Henry employs this in a sweet distraction during a moment of all encompassing anxiety for Alex. It's enough to bring Alex out of his fog, to realise how much strength he draws just from Henry being there to support him. The way Taylor says "Oh my god. I'm so grateful you are here," is perfection.

I'm a gooey mess thinking about all the future moments where Alex is surprised and overwhelmed by Henry's kindess.

[Sobs]

On a related note @mulderscully has a great post titled: Alex's headshake of Love™, which captures several of these moments, and more, in perfect gif form.

[barside-daydream]

Oliver fog edit set for @ebony-lonesome

❤️/🔁 to show support! (These icons are only available for the @'d account)

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023 is Here!

Now, I can't draw - and I'm a writer anyway, so here's 31 days worth of headcanons, rambles and short stories based on the Traintober prompts by @theflyingkipper. First time doing this, so it ought to be fun!

This is the master post, so it'll have all the links you need to find what I post this year. This page will also have this link to my Ao3 work which has the same stuff, but without pictures.

Day 1: Free Day (A ramble about preservation and Sodor) Day 2: Bridge (Rheneas, 1866) Day 3: Twins (Neil, Bill and Ben) Day 4: Devious (Diesel will forever be the most devious) Day 5: It's Only Me! (Sir Topham Hatt and Edward, a friendship in three words...) Day 6: Special Letters (A Tale of Two A1 Brothers...) Day 7: Refreshment (The Refreshment Lady is retiring...) Day 8: Bird (Cranky blames Henry for it all...) Day 9: Viaduct (Neil doesn't like the Viaduct...) Day 10: Happiest (The Engines are Happiest when...) Day 11: Roundhouse (Edward doesn't like Tidmouth Sheds...) Day 12: Something Borrowed (Maybe don't Borrow Henrietta...) Day 13: Something New (Gordon's new life on the slow trains...) Day 14: Young Iron (Ivo Hugh has some advice for a young engine...) Day 15: Maintenance (Duke Needs the Others to be Well Maintained...) Day 16: Purpose (What is an engine's purpose?) Day 17: Holiday (How Tourism on Sodor has evolved...) Day 18: Blueprints (Crovan's Gate is home to many blueprints...) Day 19: Revolutionary (What are the origins of the iconic phrase?...) Day 20: Live Wire (Edward didn't much like the telegraph wires...) Day 21: Roots (Terence does not like weeds...) Day 22: Top Hat (Sir Topham Hatt I decides to visit the railway...) Day 23: Big World (Duck manages to squirm into the BWBA movie...) Day 24: Odd Jobs (Rusty has many odd jobs...) Day 25: Distress Signal (What's out in Tidmouth Bay...) Day 26: Summit (James and the Culdee Fell Engine...) Day 27: Record-Breaker (Mallard broke the record; the record broke Mallard) Day 28: Which Way Now (An engine gets lost in the fog...) Day 29: Out of Service (Oliver wasn't the only engine in that siding...) Day 30: Middle of Nowhere (They should have left that part of the island alone) Day 31: Lights Out (Don't let the lights go out at Crovan's Gate)

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Lost & Found - Chapter Twenty Two.

Well, guys, here it is. Sorry it's a few days late, but as you all know I have so much going in my life at the moment, but I made an effort to get this to you timely, the final chapter of our story. Thank you all for your continued readership, you honestly mean the world to me :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One

Words - 3,533

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“My stomach is hungry, but I’m not.” Turning to look at him, she pulled a half-scrunched face. “Is that weird?” 

“Can’t relate. Whenever my belly is demanding I feed it, I gotta do it. You know how hangry I get.”  

He made quite the valid point. Guero was like a bear emerging from hibernation when in need of food; very much motivated towards eating, and somewhat aggressive if couldn’t get his hands on what he required. “Mother fucking Mary, I do!”  

Her giggle brought a little light to her face that had been all but extinguished in the time they’d lain on the bed, Emma battling with her emotions surrounding the fact that Rocco was no more. Just then, her phone beeped, Guero passing it to her as she sat up, pressing the message icon, her heart skipping a beat.  

‘Will call you soon, darling. So relieved you’re alright. It’s all over now. Love you all the world. Mom xxx’ 

Her bottom lip wobbled, her throat pinching tight. “Oh my god.” She got that Marie was perhaps a little too distracted at present, having to play the part of the frantic wife whose husband was missing, explaining it to the kids and her family, so calling might have been difficult. A text was enough, though. It also showed Vincent’s intentions clearly. He was living up to his promises.  

“As far as mafia bosses go, he seems pretty fair,” Guero remarked, after she’d shared those thoughts with him. “I know he’s only been at the helm for like, a couple hours, but yeah. At least we don’t have to be doing nothing for him we don’t wanna be.” He paused to let her speak, but her words were halted when his stomach let out a very audible growl.  

“Somebody needs feeding,” she commented, arching an eyebrow as they both shared soft laughter. 

“Yeah, I guess I do.” 

Shifting herself up, she kissed his chest, reaching to stroke his face. “I’ll go put that pizza in the oven. Just because I don’t feel like eating, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t. I can always nibble at a slice, if you don’t inhale the entire thing in three minutes.” 

Getting up, he followed her through to the kitchen. “How well my woman knows me.” 

While Emma went about jazzing up the frozen pizza with a little extra in the way of meat, cheese and olives, Guero stood and observed, handing her a tequila shot she sank in one. 

“Keep ‘em coming, baby.”  

He grinned. “As I will with you as soon as I’ve filled my stomach. If you want me to, that is?” He was mindful that perhaps sexual gymnastics might not be too high on her list of priorities.  

Leaning to kiss him, she gave his cheek a playful nibble. “it’ll be the perfect thing to take my mind off of it all.”  

It proved to be perfect for just that, Emma falling asleep soon after she’d been thoroughly ploughed into the mattress. In the coming days, though, it all whirled around her head like a small tornado, trying to find her balance and return to normal, yet one thing hung over her like a fog. She hadn’t heard back from Marie.  

Two days passed, Emma feeling confused and hurt, throwing herself into her work to deal with what she assumed to be some kind of rejection, venting all to Lee.  

“I wouldn’t worry, sunshine,” her friend began, handing her a can of lubricant to assist in loosening a rusted exhaust clamp. “She’s probably got a lot on, liaising with the police, reporting Rocco as a missing person, all the while dealing with the fact that he actually fuckin’ ain’t missing at all. I bet she’s had a lotta emotions to process, just like you have.”  

Lee’s words made a lot of sense, Emma realising that perhaps it was a little selfish given the circumstances, for her to expect Marie’s immediate attention when she too had so much to process in the aftermath. “I think you’re right, yeah. I’ll give her time on it.”  

Time. It was only natural that Marie needed some, she assumed, kicking herself a little for thinking selfishly. Of course, she had much to deal with and just because she wasn’t at the epicentre of it didn’t mean she cared any less. “You’re thirty, a grown woman. You can deal with your mom not calling you right away.” she thought to herself while returning to her work. 

Come the following afternoon, though, Emma discovered that time moved a lot quicker than she’d envisioned it would, seeing a large, white vehicle driving slowly through the yard, coming to a stop in the space between the clubhouse and the workshop. When the door opened, she could barely believe her eyes. There, looking way too glamorous for her surroundings, stood the one person her heart had ached for since her escape. 

She should have known the woman who folded her loving wings around her for nineteen years would never abandon her, now she could safely find a way back to her again. 

“Mom?” She could scarcely believe it, but there she was. There was the woman who had loved her and tried so valiantly to keep her safe all those years. Pulling off her gloves, she shot out from the workshop, running with tears pooling her eyes towards the loving, open arms that awaited her. “Mom!” Reaching out, she flung her arms around her, Marie clasping her tight, breathing in her scent, sobbing hard into her hair with relief.  

Even the most hardened of men who had exited the clubhouse to witness the scene felt their throats pinch, watching the women reconnect, the bond they had incredible. It was borne of love and loyalty, victims of similar circumstance and because of such, perhaps even stronger than that of DNA and blood.  

“Emsy, oh my god. Oh, I missed you so, so much!” Marie cried, stroking her hair, holding her in a tight embrace. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna call! Are the kids with you?” she gasped, Marie rocking her in her arms, pulling back a little to look at her.  

“No, I couldn’t take them out of school, so they’re with friends. And I was gonna call, but it didn’t seem enough. Besides, had to show my face in the interests of looking concerned about my husband going missing out here. Nobody needs to know it was my daughter who I really came to see.”  

Emma’s bottom lip quivered, Marie smoothing her hair and clutching her close again, soothing her as she began to sob. “Love you all the world, my darling. It’s over now, baby girl. All over. Shhh, it’s alright.”  

“I feel... I... so much guilt, and I don’t feel like I should be relieved... and I,” she gasped, her chest heaving with the force of her sobs, Marie soothing her. “Mom, I can’t... I don’t... I...” 

“Shhhh, my darling. You’re losing it a little, deep breaths, come on.” She began to breathe in deeply, holding Emma’s eye contact, watching as she mirrored her and began to calm. It was an exercise she’d done with her since she was ten, to calm her panic attacks as a result of what Rocco routinely inflicted on her. “You wanna go someplace to talk, just you and me?”  

“Um, yeah. I gotta check with Lee first. And, well, there’s somebody I want you to meet.” Turning to the clubhouse, she smiled, beckoning with her hand. Guero walked over, returning the wide smile Marie greeted him with. God, Rocco had really been punching. She was in her early fifties, but still an absolute knockout. “Mom, this is my boyfriend, Guero.” 

“Oh, what a nice name,” Marie began, opening her arms. “I’m a hugger, you gotta bring it in, mister!”  

He laughed softly, obliging. “Good to meet you at last, Marie. She’s missed the hell outta you, you know.” 

“Very mutual! But mother Mary, I was so relieved she was safe. So, you been looking after her, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, wrapping an arm around Emma. “Always will, too.”  

Her smile was fond, reaching an elegantly manicured hand to stroke his cheek. “Mind if I steal her a while? I think we need to reconnect.” 

He shrugged, shaking his head. “No problem.” Emma kissed him, going over to Lee to both clear it with her, and introduce her mother and best friend, Lee a little stiff at being hugged, but polite all the same.  

They headed off in the rented white SUV, Marie turning the air con back up to full, bemoaning the heat.  

“Mom, this is nothing. You should try a summer here, holy Christ, it’s like hellfire!”  

Marie smiled, turning the car around to drive back out. “Remember that summer when you were thirteen, and Rocco had gone away to Atlantic City for a long weekend? You turned into a prune from the amount you were in the pool.”  

The memory warmed her, much like the sun had upon that beautiful July day, Emma remembering the taste of freedom as she gave Marie directions. “Left here. And yeah, yeah I remember it. You always tried so hard to give me little pieces of normalcy, in a situation that was anything but.” 

“Wish I could have done more, darling.” The sad smile widened when Emma reached to squeeze her arm, Marie’s hand covering it in a soft clasp, continuing through the streets until they reached the coffee shop. Parking the rental car up, they walked down to the location, Marie going in while Emma took a table outside.  

When she returned, she sat in silence for a few moments, tears filling her eyes as she reached to stroke her face in her hands. “Jesus and all the saints, look at you, my girl,” she gasped softly, marvelling at how well her daughter looked. “All tanned and happy, and these tattoos! My god! Are you going to have your entire arms covered, or just to the elbows?” 

She shrugged softly, turning her arm so Marie could examine the underside. “I’m not sure yet. I was considering getting something across my upper back, because I’ve been bitten by the tattoo bug well and truly. I know you always hated them, so I expect to get an earful of protesting.”  

Her eyes were kind, shaking her head softly. “Nope, Emsy. It’s your body, you do to it as you please. Just because it isn’t my thing, it doesn’t mean it can’t be yours, baby. Besides, they really suit you. Tell me about them, what’s this tree lady looking one here all about?” 

“She’s a dryad.” Emma began, before explaining to her all about the mythology behind it, Marie listening with interest. All the way through, she marvelled to herself at just how alight Emma looked, how she was seeing so much of her character sparked into life, the person she only ever revealed when it was the two of them alone.  

As for Emma, she was revealing the details of her job when suddenly, her voice quivered and she paused. “I’m sorry, I just... I can’t believe we’re back together. I thought I’d never see you again, and you’re right here. I love you, mom.” 

Marie fanned her face, taking a deep breath as her eyes swam with tears. “Love you too, Emsy. I can’t believe it either, darling girl. Look at us. We’re free.”  

“What’s your plan, going forward?” she asked, composing herself, taking a big sip of her coffee.  

Marie widened her eyes a little, pushing the crumbs from the brownie she’d eaten into a small pile upon the plate before her. “Play the part of the heartbroken widow after they find his remains, head back to New York, and put that damned prison he kept us in straight on the market. Too many memories, none of which I want to keep. It’s time to start afresh for us all, isn’t it?” 

Indeed, it was. In the months that followed, the plan devised by Vincent and the club ran its course with perfection, nobody any the wiser that Rocco Lombardi hadn’t been mauled by a bear after the scant pieces of his remains were recovered within the forest. With him gone, Emma was able to exist as a person, Marie was able to move on with her life, a life that included leaving New York behind for a fresh start.  

There was also one little part, or rather now not so little, that Emma could finally reconnect with, too.  

Driving up the tree lined street, Emma’s memory of the place bloomed into full colour, the memories from her childhood all coming back to her. She recognised the houses, some different, some exactly the same, her face breaking into full joy at seeing the huge guy who looked like a quarterback standing outside of the one that definitely hadn’t changed much.  

He looked just like their dad had at twenty-seven. 

Guero had literally only just braked when she flung the door open, jumping from the car and running up the bank of grass outside her grandparents' home, Dylan covering the ground just as quickly, his arms wide. It was an embrace twenty years in the coming, the siblings overjoyed to see one another again after so long, the emotions flooding out as they held one another, laughing and crying.  

“Oh my god, oh my god, look at you!” she cried, holding his face in her hands, stroking his tears with her thumbs. “You look just like dad.” 

He nodded, pulling her close again. “And you look just like mom.” Their hug was near unbreakable, Guero standing back and letting them reunite, leaning against the rental car with a smile. “Gran’s just getting her shoes on.” he then added, turning to see his tiny grandmother ambling as fast as she could, Emma sobbing as Bea held her arms wide.  

“Oh, sweetie pie!” she gasped, Emma falling into her soft hug with a sob. “I never thought I’d live to see the day! Welcome home, welcome home. Heavens, we missed you so much!”  

Dylan moved to assist their grandpa, Wilf waving his hand as he struck his walking cane into the ground. “Ahh, with your fussing, boy! I’m fine!” Reaching Emma, he suddenly stood straighter than his sore back had allowed him to in years, holding his arm out. “Give me some cuddles, babe. God, I missed ya!”  

Snuggling against her grandpa’s shoulder, she wept all over again, his lips pressing a kiss on her forehead. “We got her back, at last we got our gal home. I just wish your mom and pop could be here to see it, too.”  

All four of them stood in a loving huddle for what felt like a very long time, Emma finally calling Guero over to introduce him, where he was embraced just as warmly. They went inside, her grandpa immediately picking up his phone.  

“Family photo time! Now, where in the heck did I put my selfie stick?” He began to rummage, her grandmother rolling her eyes. “Bea! Where’d ya put it?” 

“He’s found Instagram and decided it’s his thing,” she explained, moving to reach behind the couch cushions and retrieve the errant selfie stick. “And he even does those tic-tac videos!” 

“That’s Tik Tok, gran,” Dylan softly corrected, giving Emma a nudge with his elbow. 

“Bah! I don’t know all this new aged, newfangled internet stuff! Disney Plus is about as up to date as I like to get. Now, everybody get in, come on, Guero, you too!”  

Five smiling faces were captured, a moment in time none of them would forget, a family reunited and joined by the person who had found the little lost bird, eventually returning her to the flock from where she’d came so many years before.  

The flock that now surrounded Emma was made up of three different groups, all of them her family, one born into, one taken into, and one found. Merging them was something she looked forward to, but with a little apprehension when introducing her family to the woman she called mom.  

Marie’s move from east to west coast had not been an easy decision to make, but with her only sister already out there and her parents sadly both passed, she had very little to remain on Staten Island for. She was also long done with the stigma of being a now deceased mafia bosses’ wife following her around. It was time for a change. 

It meant her children leaving the only place they’d called home and their friends behind, but her eldest was quick to remind her just how fast children adjust. Getting to run into the arms of the girl they’d thought to be their nanny, who Marie now said they should think of as their big sister definitely helped their relocation, though, when Emma met them at the airport upon their arrival.  

It would be a further three months before Emma’s flock all came together, Marie wanting to throw a housewarming dinner, inviting everyone she was close to from the club, as well as her grandparents and Dylan, plus his new girlfriend. Having explained everything that had happened to her, her family were not in the dark over the bond she and Marie had formed, yet nerves still riddled her as she paced the lounge area of the spacious Orange County abode, Guero right behind her, rubbing tension from her shoulders. 

“Why you bugging?”  

She halted, turning to rub her hands over his smooth arms. “I don’t know, I really don’t! I mean, gran and grandpa were fine about it all, Dylan too when I explained it all to them. I guess I’m just nervous about calling her mom in front of them, don’t wanna upset them or make them think I’ve forgotten Cassie mom when I never will.”  

It had been an emotional moment, back when Dylan had driven them out to the cemetery in Spokane so Emma could visit their parent’s final resting place, the siblings cuddling one another tightly as the elder had cried for all she’d lost.  

Guero was just about to reassure her that he didn’t think that would be the case at all when a call came from the front door, Emma seeing Marie moving to greet her guests in the form of her grandparents themselves. Walking over to do the same, she was presented with a truly heartwarming sight.  

“Beatrice, Wilfred, welcome to my home. I’m so delighted to have you both here,” Marie spoke cordially, offering her hand. Immediately, Bea shook her head. A nervous lump rose in Emma’s throat, for all of two seconds. 

“No, sweetie pie. We’re family, and family hug.” She watched Marie sink happily into the offered embrace looking like she was breathing a sigh of relief, her gran continuing. “Thank you for looking after our precious gal, doing what you could for her, being a mother to her. I’m so sorry for everything you went through because of that man, but I am so grateful to you for trying to make it better for Emma while she was there.”  

“Of course, of course,” Marie tremored, a million memories flashing through her mind’s eye. Secret cuddles, secret gifts, secret cake, secret love. She no longer had to hide any of it.  

Wilf beamed, opening his arms to her next. “You’re a good gal, Marie. I echo everything the wife just said, and this place you got here, holy moly! Is than one of those infinity pools you got out back there?” 

“It is,” she confirmed, kissing his cheek and moving to welcome Dylan and Evie, his girlfriend.  

“Well dang it, I should have brought my trunks, shown off this body of mine to all you ladies!” His joke had everyone in soft fits, Wilf flexing his non-existent biceps with a grin. “What are you laughing at, boy? I look better than you!” he then directed at Guero, who was as usual totally taken by the hilarity of his girlfriend’s grandfather. 

“That’s why I’m glad you didn’t bring the trunks, man. I can deal with that kind of competition.” His statement only provoked further laughter, Marie ushering them into the house to offer further introductions. Emma stood back with Guero to watch it all, this band of people all so different, from so many walks all life, all brought together because of her. Family. Her family. There they were.  

“What you thinking about?” Guero asked, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his cheek against hers as she leaned back into him.  

“Just how I’ve gotten everything I ever wanted at last. It doesn’t look like I thought it would, but that’s one hell of an amazing family I have right there in all those people.”  

He kissed her cheek with a smile. “You got a really amazing immediate one right here, too. You, me, and this little one.” As he stroked the small, rounded swell of her pregnant belly, she couldn’t agree more. Six months later, their first child joined them, a daughter.

They named her Cassie Marie.  

The End.  

[nomkiwi]

Can you do some Oliver fog reply icons please? Preferably in black and white if you can! Thank you so much!!

Accepted ! Might take a while as I am on vacation rn, and am often out for long, but it should be doable !

[capsarcastica]

Civil War Review

Like Alex Garland's Annihilation, it has a lot of lofty ideas that it doesn't pull off.

The movie follows a group of war journalists and barely covers an actual war. Their goal of seeing the president before he's killed hardly makes for compelling drama. There's little reason this story needs to be set during a fictional conflict. And there's far better movies about war journalists like Oliver Stone's Salvador or The Killing Fields.

Those hoping for a movie saying something about modern America or how Americans would handle being in a war zone will be disappointed. The conflict itself barely makes sense. There's no explanation for what started it, only making vague references to previous events.

What split the nation? What sparked the war? What does each side represent? Why are California and Texas the only ones fighting against the USA? The movie doesn't answer anything, instead settling on a generic "War is bad no matter who fights" message. It's like Garland didn't want to offend anyone's beliefs so he made a movie so bland it doesn't please anyone. If he wanted people to have a discussion, he would've made a statement of any kind.

The movie barely touches on what American life is like during the first conflict on our soil since the actual Civil War. Most of the time, it's like no one really cares that Americans are killing Americans. Recently, we've seen life interrupted by war in Ukraine, Israel, and Gaza, so it's odd that the most interruption to American life is a crashed helicopter in a JC Penny parking lot. Alien and superhero movies handle this idea a lot better.

It isn't until the third act that the film delivers on the premise. That's what the movie should've been all along. It's an intense battle throughout DC, with landmarks and icons destroyed in the fog of war.

It doesn't help that the main four characters are dull and lifeless. They each have little motivation beyond just being journalists. That's why Jesse Plemons steals the movie with just a few minutes. His ultranationalist racist character is the only one who feels real, someone who would take advantage of a war just to be his worst self.

Technically, the movie is well done. It's shot well and looks good. The music is effective. The few bits of action are really engaging.

In this hyper-politicized time, a movie about a second American Civil War seemed inevitable. Unfortunately, this isn't the movie we need.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

if you can satisfy me in five minutes, i might let you live

a/n: inspired by jun-ho's iconic line in squid game.

tw: gunplay, power dynmaics, dubcon/noncon, mafia!au, oral sex, male receiving oral sex.

eren with a gun.

eren forcing you to your knees. he's in an all-black suit. black gloves. his ears are littered with piercings, silver glinting in the light. fringes of dark hair in his eyes, the rest of his hair tied in a bun.

if you weren't too scared to look up at him, you'd see that his eyes were the darkest shade of green you've ever seen. like emeralds waiting to be unearthed.

this is the most vulnerable you've ever felt in your life. you're not used to being on your knees. not you, never you. not the princess of her father's life. you lived life like that a spoiled princess, all of the world's precious items at your disposal.

“this gun is only 5 to 6 inches. your whore mouth can handle it.”

there's a lilting tone at the end of his sentence. he's looking down on you and treating you like a joke. you've never been talked to like this before, never been treated with this much disrespect.

the gun he's holding is unimpressive. generic even with the serial number burned off. but a gun's a gun at the end of the day.

it takes a moment for your brain to process what he's implying, no demanding for you to do.

"w-what?" you question eloquently with a mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton.

hard green eyes narrow, "you're not doing yourself any favors by acting dumb."

the words are not quite as filled with vitriol you expect. you wonder what you were expecting. maybe for him to lash out, for him to hit your pretty little head with the underside of his gun.

"hurry up or I'm going to shoot your brains."

ah there it is. except he sounds like he's bored. like you're a major inconvenience. like he's not forcing you to do something so soul-shatteringly perverse.

his patience is starting to wear thin. he grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you closer to the couch, where he plops down. yes, plops. your knees hurt, dragging on the floor like this.

there's a small window where maybe you could fight him. but there's a gun pointed at you (he even made a big show of clicking the safety off) and you've never taken a self-defense class in your life. (didn't need to)

eren is six feet of muscle. his lean frame hid how devastatingly strong he was. there was never a chance you could take.

he leans back without a care in the world, gun on his crotch. it feels like the world stands still, the silence interrupted by the chime of the antique grandfather clock. you startle, and it hits you its been a solid hour since you've been in this godforsaken room.

your hands are tied behind your back, so the only thing you can do is dip your head low and open your mouth. you know he wants a show. the symbolism is saturated with cliches. metal is cold and the ridges are uncomfortable. if it's a show he wants, it's a show he'll get. you lick a long stripe.

there's a finger on the trigger.

deliriously your first thought is how your father would lecture him on gun safety. next is how you can only hear the pounding of your heart.

suck

if it's spoken like a command, you must obey. you rub your tongue around your mouth to coat the black gun is spit. you can vaguely taste the barrel. it tastes corrosive. bitter. you try to disassociate from the metal in your mouth, thinking of anything but this. last month's trip to Peru where you petted llamas. your 16th birthday dinner in that candle-lit restaurant in southern France. the picnic with your mother when you were ten, and how she fed you olives and goat cheese that made you gag.

your head jerks back. you blink in surprise, an absence of feeling from your mouth. there's no gun anymore, he casts it aside on the couch with a sense of unpredictable carelessness that you couldn't decipher.

there's something about the crystal collecting on your waterline that makes him rock hard. daddy's little princess on her knees with puppy-fog eyes, red-rimmed nose, and a downturned mouth. you're so fucking pretty he wants to crush you under his thumb.

he's hurriedly undoing his belt, zipping down his slacks with haste. bulge evident through gray boxers, he tugs them down to expose a fully mast member. he gives his dick a good stroke as if to gauge something.

well, he's certainly bigger than his gun. and more surprisingly, he's sporting a pretty dick. pretty like the rest of him, and imposing in the same measure. veiny.

is the atmosphere different? he's grunting when he shoves your face to his dick, slender fingers knotting themselves in your hair. your little whimpers are muffled. all the precious memories you were sampling evict from your mind. the only thing your brain can focus on is the sensation.

the sensation of him. his smell. his taste. the bitterness of a person is different than metal. salty too. you lick in stripes, trying to glide your tongue but there are awkward pauses in between. you pay the tip the most attention as it sits proudly with the glistening precum.

he lets out a shudder. and you realize you're doing better than good. you're doing great.

but maybe you shouldn't tease too much. you learn your lesson the hard way when his grip on you tightens to like he's about to pull it off from your scalp. he's fucking into your mouth like it's. a drill tool, hammering, and hammering.

for the first time in the night, eren smiles. all canines.

if you can satisfy me in five minutes, i might let you live

you start bobbing your head up and down.

[hakuryuu]

All numbers for iro!! also dotty if you’re feeling up to it 🥺

IRO

1. How would you (or they) describe their gender, without using standard binary terms?: iro’s gender is stubbornness 2. Are they religious?: i think that she’s religious in that she feels reverence for the gods, but she also doesn’t.....like them. i think in her own way she worships maetra truly though 3. What social media platforms would they use (if in a world where those existed) and what would they use them for? Bonus: What would they get cancelled for?: she and thrip both have tiktok i think 4. Do they have any weird scars, and how did they get them?: she’s got a bunch of little sharp-grass scars on her legs and arms from spending part of her childhood in the desert rising plains 5. What crime are they most likely to be arrested for?: accessory to murder U__U 6. Ok, what crime are they most likely to have actually committed?: accessory to murder U__U 7. If the one prison phone call thing was real, who would they call?: her mom i think ;__; 8. Do they collect anything? What do they collect?: iro isn’t really much for collecting things i think....the most she does in the way of collections is that she has like one very sturdy and good version of each thing she needs 9. Who would they platonically marry for tax benefits?: fog but she’d feel weird about it (because of it being fog, not because of it being ““tax fraud”“) 10. What superstition/paranormal entity/conspiracy theory do they believe is 100% real, whether or not they admit it?: she believes that melibe is still with her somehow, even though he died a really long time ago 11. What’s something embarrassing they did as a child/teenager?: saw of picture of maetra as a child before she was brought in on the silk fort plan and announced that when she grew up she was going to marry that pretty lady 12. What’s something embarrassing they probably did yesterday?: responded “yeah?” without thinking when thrip accidentally called her “mom” 13. What hobby did they try once and give up on? Why?: knitting....she doesnt have the patience for it at all but she wanted to pick it up because it’s so cold in the mountains 14. What niche topic do they get incredibly pedantic about?: freely/entaugh/vain history.... :( 15. What’s their favorite food to make?: she loves a good soup!! a broth with some vegetables in it is her favorite because it’s relatively easy to make 16. What do you think this character’s worst decision was? What does this character think their worst decision was?: from a meta point of view i know that probably her worst decision was to leave the silk fort without resting sufficiently. she thinks her worst decision was bringing thrip and fog along with her for the second half of the journey 17. Is there anything you wish the writers had done differently with this character? Why?: SURE WOULD HAVE BEEN COOL IF THE WRITER HAD FINISHED THE BOOK SHE’S IN, 18. What character from another work do you think they’d get along really well with?: SHE WOULD GET ALONG REALLY WELL WITH NOV FROM CD ACTUALLY I THINK........MUCH TO THINK ABOUT. 19. What character from another work would be their mortal enemy?: despite or maybe because of their similarities i think chine and iro would NOT get along. also i think she would probably hate noonday sdjgkslfj she would also probably dislike emery for similar reasons 20. What’s a headcanon you’ve always wanted to share but none of these ask memes ever ask you about it?: iro almost never remembers her dreams

---

DOTTY

1. How would you (or they) describe their gender, without using standard binary terms?: the gender feelings you get from looking at pictures of joan of arc 2. Are they religious?: only in like a practical way sdjgklsfj 3. What social media platforms would they use (if in a world where those existed) and what would they use them for? Bonus: What would they get cancelled for?: MOST LIKELY TO HAVE A TUMBLR I THINK..... 4. Do they have any weird scars, and how did they get them?: she has a scar on her throat from when huma tries to kill her post-novel :) 5. What crime are they most likely to be arrested for?: blasphemy :( 6. Ok, what crime are they most likely to have actually committed?: trespassing and destruction of property 7. If the one prison phone call thing was real, who would they call?: olive (matty is in prison with her) 8. Do they collect anything? What do they collect?: i think she collects little things that her friends might like 9. Who would they platonically marry for tax benefits?: MATTY, NO QUESTION 10. What superstition/paranormal entity/conspiracy theory do they believe is 100% real, whether or not they admit it?: she believes that flickerfish send messages to the gods’ realm 11. What’s something embarrassing they did as a child/teenager?: joined what now that im thinking about it might have been like a military school???? 12. What’s something embarrassing they probably did yesterday?: lost to mateo in a contest of how many marshmallows they could stuff into their mouths at once 13. What hobby did they try once and give up on? Why?: cooking sdgslkfj she sucks at it 14. What niche topic do they get incredibly pedantic about?: GHOSTS, she chats with the ghosts of her family members a lot so she knows a lot about what their ‘lives’ are like and how to talk to them, etc 15. What’s their favorite food to make?: can’t go wrong with cinnamon-sugar toast 16. What do you think this character’s worst decision was? What does this character think their worst decision was?: i don’t think she regrets any of her decisions, except maybe not keeping olive closer 17. Is there anything you wish the writers had done differently with this character? Why?: lamsm rewrite when..........honestly lamsm was kind of like the cornerstone of the elise fantasy universe reboot so a LOT of my current lore is based on it and i dont know how much i would necessarily do DIFFERENT 18. What character from another work do you think they’d get along really well with?: loving to think about her interacting with paz (similar enough to matty that she feels kind of at home around her). also aaa........noe.......i’d love to see them hang out 19. What character from another work would be their mortal enemy?: if she ever sees any of the silk fort family members its on sight. THE GOD/MORTAL PLAN BOUNDARY HAS ENOUGH TROUBLE 20. What’s a headcanon you’ve always wanted to share but none of these ask memes ever ask you about it?: she/they icon.....

[fog-cryptid]

Something In The Fog

Hello! I’m Oliver Wade, but you can call me Ghost or Fog. I’m an amateur and self-taught cryptozoologist and paranormal researcher. I decided to make a tumblr to document my findings. Needless to say, it appears that something weird is going on in my town, Carmel, Indiana. I saw something in the fog a month ago. It was big, hairy... it almost looked like a rhinoceros’ head. I have no idea what it was... I made a sketch (which is also my current icon) of what the thing looked like. I’m going on a hunt to find this thing.  

[netbros]

[dropcap style=”font-size: 60px; color: #9b9b9b;”] M [/dropcap]ount Parnassus is a mountain of limestone in central Greece that towers above Delphi, north of the Gulf of Corinth, and offers scenic views of the surrounding olive groves and countryside. Mount Parnassus is named after Parnassos, the son of the nymph Kleodora and the man Kleopompus.

According to Greek mythology, this mountain was sacred to Dionysus and the Dionysian mysteries; it was also sacred to Apollo and the Corycian nymphs, and it was the home of the Muses. The mountain was also favored by the Dorians. As the home of the Muses, Parnassus became known as the home of poetry, music, and learning.

It is suggested that the name derives from parnassus, the possessive adjective of the Luwian word parna meaning house, or specifically temple. So the name effectively means the mountain of the house of the gods.

So that would make Grass of Parnassus the lawn at the house of the mythological gods. Imagine walking barefoot through acres of these stunning white and green wildflowers.

Regardless of whether any of this is true or just myth, it’s fun to consider. What is true is that the significant biodiversity, both in flora and in fauna, led authorities to the establishment of the National Park of Parnassus in 1938. The slopes of Mount Parnassus are composed of two ski sections, Kellaria and Fterolakka, which together make up the largest ski center in Greece.

Grass of Parnassus, also known as bog stars, occur in arctic and alpine habitats, as well as in dune systems and fens, swamps, wet meadows, open seepage areas, and moist woods. In the Southern Appalachians they tend to be found in the high country, above at least 5,000 feet.

I’ve encountered these rare late summer blooms a couple of places: high on Mt. LeConte in the Smokies, and along the Blue Ridge Parkway. The North Carolina variety is Parnassia caroliniana, and is considered imperiled. Therefore I’m somewhat coy about exact locations. Poachers and all. If you study my photos below you can get some hints.

Feel free to leave your comments below the gallery.

  Cradle of Forestry

Pounding Mill curve

Blue Ridge Mountains

Between the spruce

Rolling ridges

Fog climbing the forest

Five white petals

White petals, green veins

They grow in groupings

5 stamens with false nectaries

Attractive to pollinators

Sneaky spidey

Micro garden

We are family

Their pal, St. Johns wort

  [author] [author_image timthumb=’on’] https://internetbrothers.org/images/author.jpg [/author_image] This post was created by Jeff Clark. Please feel free to use the sharing icons below, or add your thoughts to the comments. Pack it in, pack it out. Preserve the past. Respect other hikers. Let nature prevail. Leave no trace. [/author]

  Mythology Makes the Search for Grass of Parnassus More Fun - A Photo Essay M ount Parnassus is a mountain of limestone in central Greece that towers above Delphi, north of the Gulf of Corinth, and offers scenic views of the surrounding olive groves and countryside.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #274

“now i can hear the marching feet / they’re moving into the street”

What color was the last swimsuit you wore? I only have a black one. Is your dream job attainable? I mean define “dream job.” I’d ideally be a meerkat biologist if I was willing to live in Africa and could handle even mild heat, but I can’t/won’t do either of those, so it’s not obtainable to me. I’d also love to be a paleontologist if I could travel and handle heat once more, but again, I can’t. My only *attainable* dream job is being a photographer, which I am aiming for. I’d LIKE to focus on nature/wildlife photography, but that’s unlikely to be able to support me, so. Do you have to go to school or work tomorrow? N/A Have you slept for longer than usual today? Yes, but only because of my nightmares. I tend to take at least two (though sometimes one) hour-long naps during the day because if I wake up once during the night, as I usually do, I’m fucked because I’m very likely to have an intense nightmare. It seems like the medicine I’m on wears off with consciousness, I guess. I only allow myself to sleep an hour at daytime because my mother has noticed if I have a nightmare, it’s usually no earlier than one hour into sleep. Even then I still have them occasionally. Have you ever taken classes for a musical instrument? Recorder in elementary school was necessary for whatever stupid reason, and then I played the flute for years. Out of school, I took guitar lessons for a while. I got semi-decent (at best I could do the intro to “Crazy Train” at normal speed, I think), but it didn’t last because it was annoying/time-consuming to build up the calluses that make playing painless, I was really bad at overthinking where my fingers were, and I just wasn’t invested quite enough. I’ll tell you, it gave me mad respect for guitarists, that shit isn’t easy by any means. Have you ever been on vacation with someone other than your family? Yes, though it was brief. I was a kid (okay, pre-teen, w/e) still in my separation anxiety from Mom phase and it was literally because of me we had to go home. I still feel shitty about it, though no one seemed upset at me. How old do you think you’ll be when you move out on your own? Who the fuck even knows anymore. Do you have a job? If so, where do you work? If not, do you want one? No; N/A; yes ultimately but no at the current moment because I have to keep watch over Mom. If you wear make-up, which brand of foundation/powder do you use? N/A Would you call yourself a “people” person? Nope. What is one change you need to make in your life this month? Just one??? What’s been tugging on your heart lately? My PTSD plus self-image has been very, very bad. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Mom had to clean up my cat’s projectile vomit even though she’s supposed to stay away from this kinda stuff through chemo. I literally cannot fucking touch vomit, never mind what came out of him that night. I felt like absolute fucking shit and I still do because WOW I’m a great adult right!! Do you have any physical traits that are bothering you lately? Like, everything. What kind of dog is your favorite? I’m biased to beagles. What was the last thing you received in the mail? A book. What is the last thing you wrote? Like, physically? My signature at the doctor’s office. Do you still care about the person you first kissed? Way fucking more than I should. Do you require a lot of private time? Definitely more than most people. Do you have any songs currently stuck in your head? I haven’t listened to it in forever for ~reasons~, yet “The Mortician’s Daughter” is stuck in my head badly and really needs to fuck off. What was the last song you downloaded? I dunno, I went on a download binge a while back. Have you ever read a really funny book? I remember at least one. “Bite Me” by IDR-Who. Some vampire satire. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? Never reached the point of being drunk. How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? fuckin YIKES I am NOT attractive rn go away Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? HAHA my mom has always had the decency to knock, not so much his mom a;lwkejrewoei but the answer’s still no. What electronics are in your room? (DVD player, CD player, etc) This laptop, my phone, a Nintendo DS, my iPod… Do you have a box anywhere with special items you'll to keep forever in it? Yes, actually. Grew up calling them “treasure boxes.” Do you have any pictures of yourself on your bedroom walls? Lol no, I’d definitely prefer to not see myself as much as I can. That sounds melodramatic, but I’m being serious. It either depresses me or makes me angry. Does your dad collect anything? The Cleveland Browns’ football team stuff, for one. Maybe Carolina Hurricane stuff, too? Idk. I don’t live with him and don’t go in his “man cave” at his house often ha ha. What's better, a desktop or laptop? Explain. A laptop. Portable; that’s all the explanation ya really need. Do your parents still hide chocolate eggs around on Easter for you? Nah. What do you typically do on Easter Day? We go to my sister’s house to watch the kids do their egg hunting and open their gifts, then we usually go to Ashley’s in-laws’ for dinner. Is there anyone you literally need to exist? Apparently not. Thought so. Never let yourself into that state of mind. What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand-written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? Oh, a hand-written poem would wreck me, yeesh. Or a drawing. But any would be very sweet. Do you remember why you made the last mistake you did? I don’t know the most recent mistake, but probably because I’m just in general a terrified person who second-guesses or overanalyzes everything. Did you check how many calories the last thing you ate had? Yes. I’m back on my calorie-counting obsession again. Are your nails long or short? Short, always. I can’t keep them long. What is your favorite kind of cookie? Just the ordinary chocolate chip is fine. What was the last compliment you received? I don’t know. Who will be the next person you kiss? I normally delete this question because the answer should be so obvious, but I feel like just pointing it out that no one fucking knows who they’re gonna kiss next. It’s a dangerous mindset. Don’t make assumptions about what you’ll have even tomorrow. Have you ever made your own icon? Yeah, on many sites. They’re just about always just edits, though, not truly original work. What color is your computer mouse? It’s black. Have you ever been sung to on your birthday in a restaurant? Yes. Do you like black olives? I don’t like olives period. Do you actually think there will be a zombie apocolypse? Personally, no. I do think it’s scientifically possible, we already see this in insects, but I just don’t imagine it happening to humans before we’re our own downfall. Do you like the person you’ve become over the past years? Fuck no. Have you ever gone to church just to get a significant other? … No…? Have you ever punched a wall out of complete anger? No, that shit is terrifying. Are you really ticklish? YES don’t fucking touch me. How do you decide what you're going to eat each day? I just follow what I’m craving that day. How are you similar to your siblings? Different? Compared to Ashley and Nicole at least, I can’t think of any real similarities off the top of my head. They’re intelligent, motivated, outgoing, successful, yada yada, then there’s me. What's your favorite type of non-fiction literature? Autobiographies by people I’m actually interested in. Do you believe in souls? Soulmates? Souls, absolutely. Soulmates, no. It’s fairytale ideation to think your soul has a perfect match with another, hate to break it to ya. Favorite soundtrack? BITCH don’t make me choose between Shadow of the Colossus and Silent Hill 2. Fucking masterpieces. Pianos or guitars? *shrugs* Depends on the music and my mood. Did an animal ever bite you? Never seriously. How many languages do you speak? Only English fluently. I’m poor at German by now. Wiggly worms or bumble bees? Worms gross me out, bees are Good Boys. Religion? I don’t really identify with any. I just believe there’s some form of ultimate intelligence and essences beyond just the body, and that’s all I even pretend to know. Fog, thunder, or rain? Fog gives me that Silent Hill Vibe *Italian kiss* What regret keeps coming back to haunt you daily? The way I treated Jason after the breakup. If you could cure yourself of one allergy, what would it be? Damn pollen. Do you know anyone else with your name? Yeah. What would you be most afraid of happening if you were to visit Africa? Viruses or botflies. Where are you tempted to move to sometimes? I very legitimately want to live in Canada by now, but I won’t because I’m not moving that far from family. Who seems like they have the perfect life? I try not to make that assumption of anyone. Do you ever take pictures of negative moments? Does taking pictures of roadkill count???? lmao probably Do you think it would be a good idea to post photos of negative moments as well as positive? Well… I guess it depends. Like ngl, the pictures some people share of them having panic attacks to just show how fucking real they are definitely touch you, as do those depicting poverty, etc., BUT I really do think there are limits and also differences in motivations. What time zone are you in? EST. Would you ever post a picture of yourself crying on social media? Wow, speaking of. No. ^Why or why not? I am an UGLY cry-er, my man. But I also just don’t want people to see that, and it’s definitely not on my mind to take a picture during a breakdown. What was the last thing you cried about? My life. Have you ever held a newborn baby? Yes. Do you know anyone who has twins? Yes. Where do you buy calendars from? I don’t. Do you shop at the dollar store often? Not *often*, but we’ll stop by for a snack or something sometimes. Are you following in the career path of any family members? No. Do you feel you missed out on a lot as a kid? I guess in some ways. Who was that best friend you ever had? Sara. What color is your laptop? Black. What are five careers you think you’d be good at? My work history has shown I can’t do shit right. Are you thriving in your life right now? lmao no one is in 2020. Who do you have moral support from? My family, doctor, and a few friends. Who encourages you to go after your dreams? The same as above. Do you have people in your family who want you dead? Wow, I hope not. Do you have a walk-in closet? No, but my room at the new house will. :’) Not that I need one, it’s just pretty cool. How do you feel about people like Elon Musk, Bill Gates, and Jeff Bezos having so much power and control in the world? Do you believe that any one person should have so much power? Let’s be real, in our current world, money is power, and no one should have that much control of the world, especially if your intentions are bad. NOW I don’t know jack shit about any of those are far as morals go, but just saying. It’s dangerous. Has your anxiety alone ever prevented you from doing something you wanted to do? This is ACTUALLY the story of my fucking life. Do you enjoy reading stories and novels that are heavily stylistic, poetic, or unconventional or do you prefer your prose to follow a familiar grammatical structure? Okay, I LOVE those, like Johnny Got His Gun and The Handmaid’s Tale that’s kinda like, run-on writing. Just letting a train of thought go. Those are two of the most powerful books I’ve ever read and they’re both written in a unique fashion. Have you ever fallen for any sort of Internet-based hoax? (e.g., fake celeb death, satire news article…) I’m sure at some point, especially as a kid. Do you tend to read reviews before you watch a movie or read a book? What do you hope to get out of doing so? NO. I don’t wanna have any precognition. When you go to a concert, how far must you travel for the most usual venues you visit? Most are on the other end of the state, and NC is long, so. We’re lucky if they come to Raleigh. Do you rent movies frequently? I never do, really. What is your favorite thing to do outside? Take pictures or swim. What’s your favorite meal to cook? I don’t cook. What movie has been taken WAY too far, as far as sequels go? Oh, I’m sure there are some, but none immediately come to mind. I’m not that into movies. Do you refuse to eat certain foods because of what they look like? Yes. I am VERY poor at getting past how a food looks. What are you listening to? NSP’s cover of “Don’t Fear The Reaper.” It’s fuckin gorgeous. How much homework do you have tonight? N/A Are you wearing any bracelets? Yes; one that Sara got me as well as an ovarian cancer awareness one. What's physically wrong with you right now? JINKIES I just feel really lethargic like always. Do you take any medications daily? Ha ha thanks for actually reminding me I need to now. When was the last time you moved to a new house? Two years ago, and now we’ll be moving to a much better place by the end of this month/early September, finally. When it comes to relationships, are you the jealous type? Nah. Which gift cards do you have in your wallet? Idk actually. It’s not like I use it a lot. Can you remember the last time you felt ill? What was wrong with you? A few nights ago. I was extremely hot, dizzy, and pretty nauseated. I was fine, though. If you wear make-up, do you take it with you, to reapply throughout the day? Does your make-up stay for a long time after you first apply it, or do you find that you need to reapply often? Are you wearing any make-up atm? I pretty much never wear makeup so have never really had a reason to reapply it. I’m definitely not wearing any now. Does your kitchen have a theme? No. Do you like ice cream sandwiches? GIRL yes. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds. They’re more comfortable imo but more importantly block out exterior noise very well. Are you a fan of any independent films? ngl, I don’t know exactly what that is and I don’t feel like looking it up. Could you possibly write a successful novel? I very genuinely think some of the RP stories I’ve taken part in are novel-worthy, yes. I wanted to make them books when I was younger, but now I no longer do mainly because there are areas that are just way too fucking dark that I don’t wanna put out there but play massive parts in the stories, so like… Do you regularly watch the news? I never do. Facebook is my “news” source lmao. Who was the last person you video-chatted with? I don’t remember for sure, maybe some doctor? What do you want the theme of your wedding to be? I don’t really think about this, seeing as my mind has changed enough, and it also depends on what my partner wants, too. Have you ever been caught passing a note in class? Noooo, I absolutely hated passing notes because I was genuinely a good student. I only did so very, very rarely if another friend started it. Have you ever had dandruff? I have dandruff AND a dry scalp. It’s a wonderful mix. Have you ever gone through a phase of crushing on EVERYONE? Definitely not. Do you have any clothes with spikes/studs on them? I have a spiked choker, and I might still have gloves with studs? Can you remember what you last clapped for? My mom’s birthday! :’) Have you ever given a pet to someone else? Yes, with cats; we had to do that quite often when I was a kid because we had so many cats, none which we could afford to fix. Then we’ve done it with two dogs we just couldn’t handle. Oh yeah, I gave my iguana away too because he was too high maintenance for me, but also because he DESPERATELY needed a much bigger terrarium, which we couldn’t afford. I absolutely could not watch him in that tiny tank. I miss him a LOT, but he went to a wonderful home! The lady who adopted him sent me pictures upon pictures months after taking him in. Do you know anyone named Walter? No. What's your least favorite ice-cream flavor? Strawberry is fucking disgusting. And that’s coming from someone whose favorite fruit is strawberries. What's your least favorite song by your favorite artist? I’m not sure. There’s a handful that just don’t grab my attention that I don’t even remember them. What was the last good news you heard? I can FINALLY talk to my psychiatrist tomorrow. Who’s your favorite singer of all time? Probably Freddie Mercury. What airline do you fly most? Idk, I don’t really pay attention. I haven’t flown very often though anyway. Do you have a dog that is destructive? I don’t have a dog. What’s one TV series you’ve seen every episode of? Meerkat Manor is the most obvious, ha ha. Maaaaany times. Assuming you have Facebook, who last left you a wallpost? Probably my friend Sammi. Assuming you have hair, how are you wearing it today? It’s too short for me to “wear” it any particular way. It’s just… there lmao. Assuming you're not homeless, what kind of living arrangements do you have? I live with my mom in a house she’s renting. Have you or have you ever considered messing around with the same sex? I’m bisexual so you can guess I’m not opposed to it. Are you particular about any brands of food you will or will not eat? Are there any restaurants you refuse to go to? Brands, no. I don’t eat Chick-fil-a because they’re run by fucking homophobic bigots that monetarily support conversion therapy and other anti-LGBT projects. I’m not giving you any fucking money. What was the most current dream you can remember about? Do you generally dream every night, or hardly at all? It was actually last night, when I dreamed about accidentally running into Jason where I last knew he worked, and he was really hostile. If I don’t take my medicine, I always have nightmares when I sleep.